an hardly bear to think of you at home sometimes. Dear Winnie
and Asahel, our images rise up and lie down with me. Asahel
must study hard every minute of time he can get. And Winnie,
you must study too every minute that it does not tire you, and
when mother does not want you. And write to me. That will do
you good, and it will do me good too.

"Give my love to Karen.

"Yours all, faithfully,

"Winthrop Landholm.

"P. S. -- I have seen nobody yet but Mr. Herder."

When Winthrop went to put this letter in the post, he drew out
the following:

"To Winthrop Landholm, Esq.:

At Mr. George Inchbald's,

"Cor. Beaver and Little South Sts., Mannahatta.

"I am so tired, Governor, with the world and myself to-night,
that I purpose resting myself at your expense, -- in other
words, to pour over all my roiled feelings from my own heart
into yours, hoping benevolently to find my own thereby
cleared. What will be the case with yours, I don't like to
stop to think; but incline to the opinion, which I have for
many years held, that _nothing can roil it_. You are infinitely
better than I, Governor; you deserve to be very much happier;
and I hope you are. The truth is, for I may as well come to
it, -- I am half sick of my work. I can see your face from
here, and know just what its want of expression expresses. But
stop. You are not in my place, and don't know anything about
it. You are qualifying yourself for one of the first literary
professions -- and it is one of the greatest matters of joy to
me to think that you are. You are bidding fair to stand, where
no doubt you will stand, at the head of society. Nothing is
beyond your powers; and your powers will stop short of nothing
within their reach. I know you, and hug myself (not having you
at hand) every day to think what sort of a brother I have got.

"Governor, I have something in me too, and I am just now in a
place _not_ calculated to develope or cultivate the finer part
of a man's nature. My associates, without an exception, are
boors and donkeys, not unfrequently combining the agreeable
properties of both in one anomalous animal yclept a clown.
With them my days, for the greater part, are spent; and my
nights in a series of calculations almost equally
extinguishing to any brightness of mind or spirit. The
consequence is I feel my light put out! -- not hid under a
bushel, but absolutely quenched in its proper existence. I
felt so when I began to write this let