shake. This morning, my dear friend, this very morning, which,
passing by without bringing news from England, would have seen us on our
way to St. Louis (via Cincinnati and Louisville) with sad hearts and
dejected countenances, and the prospect of remaining for at least three
weeks longer without any intelligence of those so inexpressibly dear to
us--this very morning, bright and lucky morning that it was, a great
packet was brought to our bedroom door, from HOME. How I have read and
re-read your affectionate, hearty, interesting, funny, serious,
delightful, and thoroughly Forsterian Columbia letter, I will not
attempt to tell you; or how glad I am that you liked my first; or how
afraid I am that my second was not written in such good spirits as it
should have been; or how glad I am again to think that my third _was_;
or how I hope you will find some amusement from my fourth: this present
missive. All this, and more affectionate and earnest words than the
post-office would convey at any price, though they have no sharp edges
to hurt the stamping-clerk--you will understand, I know, without
expression, or attempt at expression. So, having got over the first
agitation of so much pleasure; and having walked the deck; and being now
in the cabin, where one party are playing at chess, and another party
are asleep, and another are talking round the stove, and all are
spitting; and a persevering bore of a horrible New Englander with a
droning voice like a gigantic bee _will_ sit down beside me, though I am
writing, and talk incessantly, in my very ear, to Kate; here goes again.

"Let me see. I should tell you, first, that we got to Pittsburgh between
eight and nine o'clock of the evening of the day on which I left off at
the top of this sheet; and were there received by a little man (a very
little man) whom I knew years ago in London. He rejoiceth in the name of
D. G.; and, when I knew him, was in partnership with his father on the
Stock-Exchange, and lived handsomely at Dalston. They failed in business
soon afterwards, and then this little man began to turn to account what
had previously been his amusement and accomplishment, by painting little
subjects for the fancy shops. So I lost sight of him, nearly ten years
ago; and here he turned up t'other day, as a portrait-painter in
Pittsburgh! He had previously written me a letter which moved me a good
deal, by a kind of quiet independence and contentment it breathed, and
still a p