"Evelina," which his mother had read with delight shortly before his
birth.]

Yours forever and a day,

ORVILLE DEWEY.

To the Same.

NEW YORK, May. 2, 1837.

. . . A WEEK ago to-day I sat down at my desk, spread before me a sheet
of paper, grasped my pen energetically, and had almost committed myself
for a letter to you, when suddenly it occurred to me that Mrs. Schuyler
was in Boston, and would have told you just what it was my special
design to write; that is, all about the congregation of the faithful in
Chambers Street. Well, I suppose she has; but I shall have my say.
The congregation has certainly not improved, as you seem, in your
preposterous modesty, to suppose, but suffered by your leaving it. The
attendance, I should think, is about the same. . . . But I am afraid that
the society is gradually losing strength.

I have been preaching some Sunday-evening sermons to the merchants.
Have n't you heard of them? And if you have n't, do you pretend that
Brookline is a place? Take my word, Sir, that it is not to be found on
the map of the world,--not known either to the ancients or the moderns.
You are not in existence, Sir, take my word [162] for it, if you have
not heard of these crowded, listening, etc. assemblies at the Mercer
Street Church. Well, really, I have seen a packed audience there, and
even the galleries pretty well filled. I have thoughts of publishing the
discourses (only three, more than an hour long, however), and if I
could only write three more, I would; but my brain got into a pretty
bad condition by the third week, and I don't know whether I can go On at
present.

To the Same.

NEW YORK, March 27, 1837.

MY DEAR WARE,--I should like to know what you mean by not letting me
hear from you these three months. Do you not know that you are in my
debt for a letter at least twenty lines long, which it took me three
minutes to write? And three minutes and twenty lines, in this Babel,
are equal to one hour and two sheets in Brookline. Do you not know that
everybody is saying, "When have you heard from Mr. Ware?" Do you not
know that ugly and choking weeds will spring up on the desolation you
have made here if you do not scatter some flower-seeds upon it? Consider
and tremble. Or, respect this and repent, as the Chinese say.

Well, Dr. Follen is to be here for a twelvemonth, and we shall not get
you back again,--oh me!

Dr. Follen has quite filled the church at some evening lectures on
Un