us, I believe, than any other. Ahem! when you told me
of those rocks in the foundation of the house, you did not expect this
"sermon in stones.". . .

To William Cullen Bryant.

SHEFFIELD, May 13, 1854.

DEAR EDITOR,--Are we to have fastened upon us this nuisance that is
spreading itself among all the newspapers,--I mean the abominable smell
caused by the sizing or something else in the manufacture? For a long
time it was the "Christian Register" alone that had it, and I used to
throw it out of the window to air. Now I perceive the same thing in
other papers, and at length it has reached the "Post." Somebody is
manufacturing a villanous article for the paper-makers (I state the fact
with an awful and portentous generality.) But do you not perceive what
the nuisance is? It is a stink, sir. I am obliged to sit on the windward
side of the paper while I read its interesting contents, and to wash my
hands afterwards--immediately.

But, to change the subject,--yes, toto aelo,-for I turn to something as
fragrant as a bed of roses,--will [234] not you and Mrs. Bryant come to
see us in June? Do. It is a long time since I have sat on a green bank
with you, or anywhere else. I want some of your company, and talk, and
wisdom. The first Lowell Lecture I wrote was after a talk with you
here, three or four years ago. Come, I pray, and give me an impulse for
another course. Bring Julia, too. I will give her my little green room.

I shall be down in New York on business a fortnight hence, and shall see
you, and see if we can't fix upon a time.

With all our loves to you all,

Yours as ever,

ORVILLE DEWEY.

Mr. Dewey's father died at the very beginning of his son's career, in
1821, and early in 1855 he lost also his mother from her honored place
at his fireside. He was, nevertheless, obliged to leave home in
March, to fulfil an engagement made the previous autumn to lecture in
Charleston, S. C.

To his Daughter Mary.

CHARLESTON, March 16, 1855.

I HAVE been trying four hours to sleep. No dervish ever turned round
more times at a bout, than I have turned over in these four hours.
I dined out to-day, at Judge King's, and afterwards we went to the
celebrated Club 3 and, whether it is that I was seven consecutive hours
in company, or that I drank a cup of coffee,

The reason why, I cannot tell, But this I know full well, [235] that
here I am, at three o'clock in the morning, venting my rage on you.

It would do your hea