is country is fast swelling to
infinitude. These, dear sir, are some of my dreams, I fear I must call
them, rather than waking thoughts. It seems to me not a little to know
the age and country we live in. I think, and think, and think that
something must be done, and often [138] I feel, and feel, and feel that
I do nothing. What can we do to make ourselves and others aware of our
Christian duties and of the signs of this time?

There is one comfort,--Unitarianism will succeed just as far as it is
worthy of it,--and there are some forms of practical Unitarianism that
ought not to meet with any favor in the world. If the whole mass becomes
of this character, let it go down, till another wave of providence shall
bring it up again.

But enough of this preaching: you think of all these things, and a
thousand more, better than I can say them. I turn to your letter. Elder
H., for whom you ask, is a very good man,-very friendly to me; but le is
a terrible fanatic. He has Unitarian revivals that might match with
any of them. It is a curious fact that the Christians, as they call
themselves, Unitarian as they ire, form the most extravagant, fiery,
fanatical sect in this country.

Mrs. Dewey desires very friendly regards to Mrs. Ware, of whose
continued illness we are concerned to lean Let my kind remembrance be
joined with my wife's, and believe me very truly,

Your friend and brother,

ORVILLE DEWEY.

To the Same.

NEW BEDFORD, Feb. 14, 1824.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--I cannot repress the inclination to offer you my
sympathy. I have often thought with [FN: Mrs. Ware died in the
interval between those two letters she was the daughter of Dr. Benjamin
Waterhouse, of Cambridge, Mass. In 1827 Mr. Ware was again married to
Miss Mary Lovell Pickard.] [139] pain of what was coming upon you; and
I fear, though long threatening, it has come at last with a weight which
you could hardly have anticipated. May God sustain and comfort you!
You are supported, I well know, while you are afflicted, in every
recollection of what you lave lost. Surely the greatness of your trial
argues the Kindness of Heaven, for it proves the greatness of the
blessing you have enjoyed.

But, my dear sir, I will not urge upon you words which are but words,
and touch not the terrible reality that occupies your mind. You want not
the poor and old sayings of one who knows not--who cannot know--what you
suffer. You need not the aids of reflection from me. But you n