Yet I believe now again, I shall. It is
called _Leaves of Grass,_--was written and printed by a
journeyman printer in Brooklyn, New York, named Walter Whitman;
and after you have looked into it, if you think, as you may, that
it is only an auctioneer's inventory of a warehouse, you can
light your pipe with it.
By tomorrow's steamer goes Mrs. --- to Liverpool, and to
Switzerland and Germany, by the advice of physicians, and I
cannot let her go without praying you to drop your pen, and shut
up German history for an hour, and extend your walk to her
chambers, wherever they may be. _There's_ a piece of
republicanism for you to see and hear! That person was, ten or
fifteen years ago, the loveliest of women, and her speech and
manners may still give you some report of the same. She has
always lived with good people, and in her position is a centre of
what is called good society, wherein her large heart makes a
certain glory and refinement. She is one of nature's ladies, and
when I hear her tell I know not what stories of her friends, or
her children, or her pensioners, I find a pathetic eloquence
which I know not where to match.
Pages:
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319