vividly awakens, will
judge more calmly and clearly than myself. Yet to myself only can it be
known how small were the services of friendship that sufficed to rouse
all the sensibilities of this beautiful and noble nature. Throughout our
life-long intercourse it was the same. His keenness of discrimination
failed him never excepting here, when it was lost in the limitless
extent of his appreciation of all kindly things; and never did he
receive what was meant for a benefit that he was not eager to return it
a hundredfold. No man more truly generous ever lived.

His next letter was begun from "on board the canal-boat. Going to
Pittsburgh. Monday, March twenty-eighth, 1842;" and the difficulties of
rejection, to which reference has just been made, have been nowhere felt
by me so much. Several of the descriptive masterpieces of the book are
in it, with such touches of original freshness as might fairly have
justified a reproduction of them in their first form. Among these are
the Harrisburg coach on its way through the Susquehanna valley; the
railroad across the mountain; the brown-forester of the Mississippi, the
interrogative man in pepper-and-salt, and the affecting scene of the
emigrants put ashore as the steamer passes up the Ohio. But all that I
may here give, bearing any resemblance to what is given in the _Notes_,
are the opening sketch of the small creature on the top of the queer
stage-coach, to which the printed version fails to do adequate justice,
and an experience to which the interest belongs of having suggested the
settlement of Eden in _Martin Chuzzlewit_. . . . "We left Baltimore last
Thursday, the twenty-fourth, at half-past eight in the morning, by
railroad; and got to a place called York, about twelve. There we dined,
and took a stage-coach for Harrisburg; twenty-five miles further. This
stage-coach was like nothing so much as the body of one of the swings
you see at a fair set upon four wheels and roofed and covered at the
sides with painted canvas. There were twelve _inside_! I, thank my
stars, was on the box. The luggage was on the roof; among it, a
good-sized dining-table, and a big rocking-chair. We also took up an
intoxicated gentleman, who sat for ten miles between me and the
coachman; and another intoxicated gentleman who got up behind, but in
the course of a mile or two fell off without hurting himself, and was
seen in the distant perspective reeling back to the grog-shop where we
had found hi