Rochester, Feb 13^th 1860

My Dear Friend Frederick Douglass

Last evening about nine o'clock my heart was made glad by the reception of a letter from thy hand, and I hardly knew how to let the night pass without improveing the privilege of replying to it, it seemed to me it had been long on its way, and I had been hopeing some time, that the time for the promised letter, was not much farther in the distance, the time seemed very long before we received the tidings of thy safe arrival in England and then I have been from home two months, and did not even have the privilege of reading thy letters in Frederick Douglass Paper, until some time after it were published, therefore after such a dearth, thee will not wonder that thy letter was especially welcome, and my heart-felt thanks may be understood by my immediate response, if in no other way. I am truly thankful to thee, dear friend for what thee said on the first sheet of they letter, But I do not know

what to say myself—only looking on the brighter side to say that I am so sorry, that we have lost five years of beautiful, joyous, friendship, and my strongest wish is, that thee may return just what thee was when we last parted. How dearly I love to recur to the many many pleasures of our friendship dear divine friendship—and especially to the few hours of charming holy hours of that day we spent last together—[there?] are several spots more thriling in the recollection than the rest—but I need not now name them. "The [one?] crowns all" is a solacing saying. I have been sad very sad over many errors of my life, but I believe them so mixed with good, that I am very hopeful but oh if I had as much good to look back upon—the result of my labours, as thou hast—and as few errors I should [think?] I had always been a blessing, dear Frederick as no more sad about all these scenes of the past, so unspeakably painful, we will all resolve to be unspeakably good, and happy again, when we meet. Well—when will thee be home? I never forget that high way of holiness, which I promised to help throw up for the safe footsteps on thy return, I assure thee if heaven will do anything toward it, it will be in readiness for thee in less than six months, try [illegible] time of absence, only think just half the time has passed, I sincerely hope there will be neither need, or desire on thy part to protract the time of thy visit, I presume thee watches with as much anxiety, and gets with the same accuracy, the proceedings at Washington—Virginia, &c as we do. Therefore I need only say that the signs, favouring thy safety, here, are hopeful. I am happy to hear of thy kind and cordial reception from thy old as well as new friends, of which—I have never had a doubt, for great and good people, generally find it easy to make friends, sometimes, even out of former enemies, but how is it that thy friend Foster should have been a Quaker, and not have discovered, that to be a peace man, being so much more happiness to the soul—I hope thee will be true to the promptings of thy own nature, and labour to shew him his error. I have no objection to your amuseing yourselves by [illegible] at a [one?] provided the mark, is not a man. Frederick, thee never saw my Father. I had hoped that thee would, but it is to late now he has passed beyond the vail. As soon as we received tidings of his increasing illness, I made haste to get to him, Willie and I took the first train, which left here at six o clock on the evening of the John Brown sympathy meeting, at which I was anxious to be present at but did not like to delay, but father had peacefully

closed his life here, two hours ere we could reach there I experienced no regrets, no sorrow for I knew he was happy in the change—but it brought a sad and lonely feeling to see both parental chairs empty—and the thought of hearing their paternal—loving, greetings no more sounding on my ear, produced many serious reflections, as well as recalled many joyous and interesting recollections, His age was ninety four years and four months he and our mother lived [64?] years together, and 5 lonely years he had passed without her—But now they have met to part no more. Jonas came down and spent two weeks and then left Willie and I in Jersey City, between which place and New York we spent three weeks, I stayed for the purpose of medical treatment, having been much out of health, previous to my Long Island visit—and I kept Willie for company; George Willetts and many others made affectionate enquiries for thee. I stayed most of my time at David Underhills, who has married the eldest daughter of the Fox family—she has a delightful home of their own, a good husband, with wealth and refinement. I never saw her as happy as now—She is not before the spiritual investigating public now, though her [medium?] ship is the same, now dont let me feel as if thee is [courting?] the life of unbelief, Through their

introduction I made one very agreeable, new acquaintance, a gentleman and his wife—living at New Rochelle—about 20 miles east of New York. We accepted an invitation to spend a day or two with them, and set out in a most dashing shower of blessed raine, but as the Locomotive waits for no one after set times,—and we were anticipating too much pleasure to be disappointed, we went on, trusting to the good sense of the gentleman to meet us in the Depot. & behold he was there with his fine sleigh and horse; and we were soon safely landed under their pleasant and hospitable shelter, every eye brightly beaming and childrens hands clasping with delight. In the night the raine ceased, and by mornings dawn the clouds had all dispersed, and every tree and shrub looked as if an Angel had passed by that way and left beautiful frost blossoms upon them all, but to be sure—in all this splendor, and icesickle glitter and driping, in a sunshine of almost summer [illegible], we took a charming sleigh ride—Oh! the highway and winding by ways

almost canopied with these beautifully decked trees, leading to the Long Island Sound—and the many neatly ornamented and soon with neat and magnificent dwellings, made it a ride of more than common interest, when we arived at the grave of Thomas Paine we all alighted, so as to press our feet upon the soil this gifted man, so oft had trod, but I shall grow tedious, or I would tell thee of the superstition, after all sects refuseing to give him a burial, the purchaser of his farm, upon which he was buried; years after, refused to let friends pass over his land, to erect a monument to his memory, though the space was only three feet from the highway—so there stands the monument as near to the grave (as the highway) as they could place it. For it stands there a monument, not only of the genius of one man, but of the ignorance and superstition of many. Frederick, I wish thee could have been with us, but, at once I think, how many places of greater Cruelty— and more [illegible], thy feet will press—thy eyes behold—and thee emotions of thy soul enjoy—will, please remember them all and if I do not get the benefit of them previous to thy return, [illegible], live them over again, by repeating them to me—

Thy friend Susan Humphrey stayed here, through my absence and is still here, her friend from Chicago came last evening he is quite a dashing beau, elegant—and polished, just such an one as I should suppose would take her attention but whether he would continue to fill the void in her soul, Is the great problem to be solved—She says that altho thee did not mention her, she does not believe thee has forgotten her, and wished me to say that she often thinks of thee kindly & admiringly, and wishes thee a safe return. I have not seen our mutual fried Mrs Colman since about the mid of November, she has been busy, as thee anticipates, but I am sorry to say, not as thee supposes in the Anti Slavery ranks, but under the less desirable auspices of Wendall—Lucy—& Susan she is alone, at present I believe, but she so seldom writes either to me or her children, that we are left to wonder where she is—I believe she must have arived in Jersey City the very day I left there, she was there with thy German friend, the last letter from her announced, I was very sorry to miss of seeing her, and I thought too of trying to call upon Miss A—but did not feel my self [quite?] well enough acquainted, I assure thee I did smile [right?] joyously when I heard of Miss Remond, and thy self upon the [same?] platform, Ah, I hope it will make way for many other reunions, of old friend who never should have been separated. [Isaac?]
desires his love to thee, and says tell Frederick that it seems to him

as if he will not wish to stay very long away, and from all the evidence yet adduced thee can return with safety as soon as thee chooses, and he says tell thee that John Brown was a great man, viewing him from Moses, and his own standpoint but how is it, when compared with the life of Jesus? but I must not argue this question with thee now, but [illegible] dear what a hurry I am in to see this relick of barbarism pass away from some few minds, in the circle of my friends! Thee may tell thy friend Foster, that we had the honor of the company of William [illegible] under our roof some three weeks, when he was in this country—he was engaged in visiting the families of friends and [illegible] Monthly Meeting, I presume he was an Uncle of his. I will [illegible], that there ever would be any family [illegible] [e]xcuse me for classing thee as one of our family. I have had no opportunity to deliver thy message of love & to [illegible] [illegible], but I know they would wish to return a similar message to thee—William has spoken of his time spent at the Falls with thee as among the most pleasant of his life. They are all others amongst they [illegible] [illegible]are in usual health—[illegible] have called and wish me to come and spend a day with them this week, Cate Stebbins is [illegible] this week—I well know how to [illegible] [patience?] with her [illegible] the loss of their darling little daughter. Girty has just called and seems well and in fine spirits, though wishing much to see her mother. Please give my love to Mis Julia Croffts, tell her there is much which we have known, to make us love each other and the rest should be forgotten—I think thee will say when thee [opens?] this letter, well! here is a job, but I shall not feel bad about it, for I now thee knows better than to undertake to send it when thee is in a hurry. I hope I shall get more letters from thee if the[e] has not promised to write more than one Mary [illegible] dreamed last night, that thee was here in our parlour I have twice dreamed the same—I though thee said six weeks was long enough for thee to stay in England, Oh how much I want to say, but dear Frederick adieu, Thine always

They good son Lewis is the only one of the family that I have seen since my return they seem to be all well and as far as their honouring their father by well [doing?]—do write me again immediately, and I shall again be inexpressably grateful

I shall want to know if this come to the[e] safely