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 the day, when he thought I was in a more suffering state, giving me the most fatherly advice, and finally furnishing me with medicines and rules and regulations, as regards diet, for the whole of my journey; and when I offered to pay him for the trouble he had taken, he would not hear of such a thing, shaking his head, and saying, in his deep serious voice, that it was one of the happiest circumstances of his life, that he could in any measure contribute to the re-establishment of my health. “One thing, however, I beg of you,” wrote he, in his fatherly farewell letter, “and that is that you will sometimes write to me, and tell me about your health, and what you are doing and enjoying; because I hear a great deal about human suffering and sorrow, but very seldom about human happiness.”

Yes, my sweet Agatha, I cannot tell whether I rightly know the American character, but of this I am certain, that what I do know of it is more beautiful and more worthy to be loved than any other that I am acquainted with in the world. Their hospitality and warm-heartedness, when their hearts are once warmed, are really over flowing, and know no bounds. And as some travellers see and make a noise about their failings, it is very well that there should be somebody who, before anything else, becomes acquainted with their virtues. And these failings of theirs, as far as I can yet see their national failings, may all be attributed principally to the youthful life of the people. In many cases I recognise precisely the faults of my own youth,—the asking questions, want of reflection, want of observation of themselves and others, a boastful spirit, and so on. And how free from these failings, and how critically alive to them are the best people in this country! America's best judges and censors of manners are Americans themselves.

March 5th.—You thank me for my letters, my sweet Agatha; but to me they seem so wretched and so few. I meant to have written you better letters; but