here," pointing to his chest. The progress of the fatal disease
was slow but sure. He had agreed with Dr. Howe that they should visit
South America together in 1860, when he should have attained his
fiftieth year. Alas! in place of that adventurous voyage and journey, a
sad exodus to the West Indies and thence to Europe was appointed, an
exile from which he never returned.

Many years after this time I visited the public cemetery in Florence,
and stood before the simple granite cross which marks the resting-place
of this great apostle of freedom. I found it adorned with plants and
vines which had evidently been brought from his native land. A dear
friend of his, Mrs. Sarah Shaw Russell, had said to me of this spot, "It
looks like a piece of New England." And I thought how this piece of New
England belonged to the world.

One of the most imposing figures in my gallery of remembrance is that of
Charles Sumner, senator and martyr. When I first saw him I was still a
girl in my father's house, from which the father had then but recently
passed. My eldest brother, Samuel Ward, had made Mr. Sumner's
acquaintance through a letter of introduction given to the latter by Mr.
Longfellow. At his suggestion we invited Mr. Sumner to pass a quiet
evening at our house, promising him a little music. Our guest had but
recently returned from England, where letters from Chief Justice Story
had given him access both to literary and to aristocratic circles. His
appearance was at that time rather singular. He was very tall and erect,
and the full suit of black which he wore added to the effect of his
height and slenderness of figure. Of his conversation, I remember
chiefly that he held the novels of Walter Scott in very light esteem,
and that he quoted with approbation Sir Adam Ferguson as having said
that Manzoni's "Promessi Sposi" was worth more than all of Sir Walter's
romances put together.

Mr. Sumner was at this time one of a little group of friends which an
ironical lady had christened "the Mutual Admiration Society." The other
members were the poet Longfellow, George S. Hillard, Cornelius Felton,
professor of Greek at Harvard College, of which at a later day he became
president, and Dr. Howe. These gentlemen were indeed bound together by
ties of intimate friendship, but the humorous designation just quoted
was not fairly applicable to them. They rejoiced in one another's
successes, and Sumner on one occasion wrote to Dr. Howe, aprop