I hope to do something historical by and by, and perhaps an occasional article in the _North American Review_.

But anything like light writing I never can again turn to." * * * * * From a very long letter written on the 13th of May, 1841, I will give a, few extracts:-- * * * * * "MY DEAR AND VALUED FRIEND,--Your letter from Penryth [_sic_] without date, but bearing the ominous post-mark, 'April 1st,' has completely made a fool of me, in that sense which implies that nothing else can excuse a grey head and a seared heart for thinking and feeling that there are such things in the world as affection and sincerity.

Being fond of flying in the face of reason, and despising experience, whenever they lay down general rules, I am resolved to believe in exceptions, to delight in instances, and to be quite satisfied that I have 'troops of friends'-- you being one of the troopers--no matter how few others there may be, or where they are to be found.
"You really must imagine how glad we were to see your handwriting again, and I may say also, how surprised; for it passeth our understanding to discover how you _make_ time for any correspondence at all.

We have followed all your literary doings step by step since we left Europe, and we never cease wondering at your fertility and rejoicing at your success.

But I am grieved to think that all this is at the cost of your comfort.