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the world is permanent ? However, I have long ceased to reg-ard the metamorphoses of nations. They are neces- sary, like all other metamorphoses, and, if mankind ever attain wisdom, they will not contend about them. The history of the United States presents to my mind a picture, not so much of greatness, as of very great thrift, at least, and probably of less real happiness than is en- joyed by any other civilized nation. In it the poor thrive only because labor is not over-abundant. This thrift might have continued, if Massachusetts and South Caro- lina could have been tied together neck and heels, and forced to fight the war out by themselves. But I hurry from this to say a few more words on the subject that haunts me.

Stanley was not difficult to understand. No one easier. But, though very social, he was reserved except with people with whom he sympathized. I have seldom seen so much sensibility and vigor united. His will and his affections were ever struggling together — a beautiful strife ! Though in many other ways well endowed, I have never known any one more magnanimous, at one and the same time just, generous, and genial. He possessed an easy yet noble good-nature, was confiding yet cautious, impulsive yet calm. Courteous by nature, humor and good sense were mingled in him in so just a proportion that the country people, wherever I took him, were charmed with it, and, when I repeated alone my journey to the north, autumn before last, everybody at whose house we had stopped remembered him. Says Goodwin at the Glen, " Where is the little fellow .-• Why have you not brought him .■* " Says the old landlady at Bethel, " Pray why did not your young friend come with you .'' " And says Judge Ingalls at Shelburne, " Your son " (for so he thought him) "is now, I suppose, at Harvard

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