ations from
the Odyssey; the blank verse is so simple, clear, and exquisite, so I
think.

To Miss Catherine M. Sedgwick.

SHEFFIELD, May 5, 1864.

MY DEAR FRIEND,--Dear B. did you no wrong, and me much right, in giving
me to read a letter of yours to her, written more than a month ago,
which impressed me more and did me more good than any letter I have read
this long time. It was that in which you spoke of Mr. Choate. It was
evidently written with effort and with interruptions,--it was not like
your finished, though unstudied letters, of which I have in my garner
a goodly sheaf; but oh! my friend, take me into your [273] realm, your
frame of mind, your company, wherever it shall be. The silent tide is
bearing us on. May it never part, but temporarily, my humble craft from
your lovely sail, which seems to gather all things sweet and
balmy-affections, friendships, kindnesses, touches and traits of humanity,
hues and fragrances of nature, blessings of providence and beatitudes of
life--into its perfumed bosom.

You will think I have taken something from Choate. What a strange,
Oriental, enchanted style he has! What gleams of far-off ideas, flashes
from the sky, essences from Arabia, seem unconsciously to drop into it!
I have been reading him, in consequence of what you wrote. It is strange
that with all his seeking for perfection in this kind he did not succeed
better. But it would seem that his affluent and mysterious genius could
not be brought to walk in the regular paces. He was certainly a very
extraordinary person. I understand better his generosity, candor,
amiableness, playfulness. I understand what you mean by the resemblance
between him and your brother Charles. With constant love of us all,

Yours ever,

ORVILLE DEWEY.

To Mrs. David Lane.

SHEFFIELD, Sept. 3, 1864.

DEAR FRIEND,--. . . Mrs. __ reported you very much occupied with
documents, papers, letters, and what not, on matters connected with
the Sanitary. I should like to have you recognize that there are other
people who need to be healed and helped besides soldiers; and that there
are other interests beside public ones to be looked after. Are not all
interests individual interests in [274] the "last analysis," as the
philosophers say? But I am afraid you don't believe in analysis at all.
Generality, combination, is everything with you. One part of the human
race is rolled up into a great bundle of sickness, wounds, and misery;
and the other