old age and retirement his words could yet have
power and receive approbation.

Rev. J. W. Chadwick wrote a delightful review of the book in the
"Christian Register;" and, supposing that the notice was editorial, my
father wrote to Mr. Mumford, then editor, as follows:

SHEFFIELD, Nov. 22, 1876.

MY DEAR SIR,--It is taking things too much au serieux, perhaps, to write
a letter of special thanks for your notice of my volume in last week's
"Register." If I ought to have passed it over as the ordinary editorial
courtesy, I can only say that it did not seem to me as such merely, but
something heartier,--and finer, by itself considered. I was glad to have
praise from such a pen. You will better understand the pleasure [337]
that it gave me, when I tell you that I set about the publication of
that volume with serious misgiving, feeling as if the world had had
enough of me, and it would be fortunate for me to be let off without
criticism. And now, you and Bellows and Martineau (in a private letter)
come with your kind words, and turn the tables altogether in my favor.

I once wrote a review of Channing, and, on speaking with him about it, I
found that he had n't read the praise part at all. His wife told me that
he never read anything of that sort about himself. Well, he was
half drowned with it; but for me, I think it is right to express my
obligation to you, and the good regard with which I am,

Very truly your

ORVILLE DEWEY.

To Rev. Henry W. Bellows, D.D.

ST. DAVID'S, Jan. 16, 1877.

DEAR FRIEND,--A New Year's word from you should have had an answer
before now, but I have had little to tell you. Unless I tell you of our
remarkable snow season, snow upon snow, till it is one or two feet deep;
or of the woodpeckers that come and hammer upon our trees as if they
were driving a trade; or of our sunsets, which flood the south mountain
with splendor, and flush the sky above with purple and vermilion, as if
they said, "We are coming, we are coming to bring light and warmth and
beauty with us." You can hardly understand, in your city confines, how
lovely are these harbingers of spring. And see! it is only two months
off. And withal we are ploughing through the winter in great [338]
comfort and health. No parties here, to be sure; no clubs, no oysters
and champagne, but pleasant sitting around the evening fire, with loud
reading,--Warner's "Mummies and Moslems" just now, very pleasantly
written. . . . Have you seen Hui