rigade (Augur's) is sent down towards Brash-ear City. . . .
Now, when we shall hear of C. I do not venture to anticipate, but
whenever we do get any news, that is, any good news, you shall have it.

If these horrid New York riots had not lifted up a black and frightful
cloud between us and the glorious events in Pennsylvania and
the Southwest, we should have burst out into illuminations and
cannon-firings all over the North. But the good time is coming FN We
shall be ready when Sumter is taken. I hardly know of anything that
would stir the Northern heart like that.

I have not seen Mrs. Kemble's book yet. Have you read Calvert's
"Gentleman"? It is charming. And "The Tropics," too. And here is
Draper's book upon the "Intellectual Development of Europe" on my table.
I augur much from the first dozen pages.

With kind remembrances to Mr. Lane, and love to the girls,

Yours as ever,

ORVILLE DEWEY.

[265] To Rev. Henry W. Bellows, D.D.

SHEFFIELD, Aug. 15, 1863.

MY DEAR BELLOWS,--Such a frolic breeze has not fallen upon these
inland waters this good while. Complain of heat! Why, it is as good as
champagne to you. Well, I shan't hesitate to write to you, for fear of
adding to your overwhelming burdens. A pretty picture your letter is,
of a man overwhelmed by burdens! And weigh a hundred and eighty! I
can't believe it. Why, I never have weighed more than a hundred and
seventy-six. Maybe you are an inch or two taller; and brains, I have
often observed, weigh heavy; but yours at the top must be like a glass
of soda-water! Nature did a great thing for you, when it placed that
buoyant fountain within you. I have often thought so.

But let me tell you, my dear fellow, that with all the stupendous share
you have had in the burdens of this awful time, you have not known, and
without knowing can never conceive, of what has weighed upon me for the
last nine months. . . . I thank you most heartily for your sympathy with
C. After all, my satisfaction in what he has done is not so great as in
what his letters, all along, show him to be. . . .

Always and affectionately your friend,

ORVILLE DEWEY.

To Mr. and Mrs. Lindsey.

SHEFFIELD, Nov. 28, 1863.

MY DEAR FRIENDS,--I received your letter, dated 20 September, two days
ago. I am very sorry to see that you are laboring under the mistaken
impression that I [266] have lost my son in the war. Something you
misapprehended in-'s letter. You seem to suppose that it was Charl