r writing my name, but that appeared to me and
others then to be a matter of no consequence compared to the work in
hand. So the _Bulletin_ became Republican; Messrs. Cummings and Peacock
seeing that that was their manifest destiny.

From that day terrible events began to manifest themselves in American
politics. The South attempted to seize Kansas with the aid of border
ruffians; Sumner was caned from behind while seated; the Southern press
became outrageous in its abuse of the North, and the North here and there
retaliated. All my long-suppressed ardent Abolition spirit now found
vent, and for a time I was allowed to write as I pleased. A Richmond
editor paid me the compliment of saying that the articles in the
_Bulletin_ were the bitterest and cleverest published in the North, but
inquired if it was wise to manifest such feeling. I, who felt that the
great strife was imminent, thought it was. Mr. Cummings thought
differently, and I was checked. For years there were many who believed
that the fearfully growing cancer could be cured with rose-water; as, for
instance, Edward Everett.

While on the _Bulletin_ I translated Heine's _Pictures of Travel_. For
it, poetry included, I was to receive three shillings a page. Even this
was never paid me in full; I was obliged to take part of the money in
engravings and books, and the publisher failed. It passed into other
hands, and many thousands of copies were sold; from all of which I, of
course, got nothing. I also became editor of _Graham's Magazine_, which
I filled recklessly with all or any kind of literary matter as I best
could, little or nothing being allowed for contributions. However, I
raised the circulation from almost nothing to 17,000. For this I
received fifty dollars (10 pounds) per month. When I finally left it,
the proprietors were eighteen months in arrears due, and tried to evade
payment, though I had specified a regular settlement every month. Finally
they agreed to pay me in monthly instalments of fifty dollars each, and
fulfilled the engagement.

Talking of the South, I forget now at what time it was that Barnum's
Museum in Philadelphia was burned, but I shall never forget a droll
incident which it occasioned. Opposite it was a hotel, and the heat was
so tremendous that the paint on the hotel was scorched, and it had begun
to burn in places. By the door stood a friend of mine in great distress.
I asked what was the matter. He replied th