P. S. Pa says he is going to telegraph to
St. Louis to find out about Phoenix’s “ antece
dents.” just to please Aunt Slocum. I wish he
wouldn’t; it looks so distrustful, but you know
if Pa gets anything once in his head, there’s
no arguing the point. I shall take this letter
in my pocket to the Fair to-dny, so as to add
anything new and interesting that may turn up
there. The Fair, by the way, is a great suo
eess. Among other things they publish a
newspaper there every day called the Daily
Fare. It’s so entertaining that I shall send
you a copy every day it comes out.
P. S. 1 o’clock, heavens, Amelia, what do
you think! Pa’s just got a telegram from
St. Louis in these words, “P. F. is a humbug
—no such firm here as Ketchum, Contract &
Ketchum.” 0 dear, 0 dear, what shall I do?
But I don't believe a word of it, nor will I allow
my own dear Phoenix to be torn from me in
this way. in an awful rage and swears
revenge! iffb says P. F. won’t show his face
again, and he owes him $5O borrowed money
and the stable bill!
P. S. 8 o’clock, another telegram as follows
just received by pa: “P. F. is a swindler. He
has a wife living here whom he deserted three
years ago.”
P. S. 3J P. M., Third telegram. “P. F. has
another wife in Kentucky and four children!”
0! 0! what shall I do! what shall I do!
Yours distractedly, Fanny.
UNPUBLISHED LETTER BY JOHN ADAMS.
Quincy, May 25th, 1816.
To Judge Vander Kemp:
Reverend, Honorable, Learned, Venerable, and
Dear Sir: As I stand in great need of a Casu
ist in Philosophy, Morality and Christianity,
to whom should I apply but to you, whom I
consider as the best qualified of all my friends.
The Stoicks, the Christians, the Mahome
tans and the North Amerioan Indians, all
agree, that oomplaint is unmanly, unlawful,
and impious. To bear Torment without a mur
mur, a sigh, a groan, or a distortion of Face
or Feature, or a Wryth or contortion of the
Body, is consummate Virtue, Heroism, and
Duty. Mr. Lear has, compleated the glory of
great,.and good Washington, by informing us
that he suffered great distress without a
sigh or a groan. Jepthah’s Daughter Aga
memnon’s Iphigenia, the Hindoo Widows, who
roast, boil, and, fry with their Husband’s
Bones, probably utter no Shrieks. The son of
Aoknomaek never complained. Brissot and
some of his Colleagues are said to have pro
nounced Vive “la Repub" when the Guileo
tine had cut off the head, which hopping, and
bouncing, and rolling, articulated the Syl
lable, “ lique” after it was sundered from the
shoulders.
I oan almost believe all this. The history of
the Christian Martyrs and the French Clergy
Otje ID-A-iij-sr Pabe.
on the 2d of September, seems to render it
credible. Indeed, in the course of my strange
life, I have had at times, some Feelings of a
like kind, but I do not give so much Weight
to all these, as to the cool declaration of our
excellent and blessed, tho’ our passionate, Dr.
Chauncey, that he had found by Experience,
that a Man could lye all night on his Pillow,
under the most excrutiating Torment of
Toothache, Headache, Rheumatism or Gout,
unable to sleep a wink, without uttering one
Groan, Sigh or Syllable.
Now Sir, please to tell me what Virtue is
there in all this ? A common Man, as I am
informed, was lately asked, what he meant by
the word Resignation ? His answer was “ I
cannot help it.” Could Socrates have given
a better answer ?
Resignation is our own affair—What good
does it do to God ? Prudence dictates to us
to make the best of inevitable evils. We may
fret, and fume, and pule, and scold, and rave,
but what good does this do ? It hurts our
selves, and may hurt our Neighbours by the
weak, silly, foolish example, but does no good
in the Universe that I can imagine.
As I have alluded to Washington I may
quote Franklin.
The Aged Philosopher alighted from his
Coach at my door, at Auteuil, on an Invitation
to dinner. I never saw a more perfect picture
of Horror or Terror or Grief, than his Coun
tenance. I was Shocked with Surprise and
Compassion. He turned to his Coachman and
said, “ You need not come for me, I will walk
home” (to Passy about two miles.) He then
turned to me and said, “I will never enter
“the Door of a Coach again, at least if I can
“not find a Coachman who has the Stone.”
I believe he kept his Word. But was that
Complaint? I see nothing but Pride, Vanity
and Affectation and Hypocrisy in these pre
tended Stoical Apathies. I have so much
sympathy and Compassion for human Nature,
that a Man or a Woman may grunt and groan
shriek and scream, weep, cry, or roar as much
as Nature dictates under extream distress,
provided there be no affectation for there may
be Hypocrisy Even in these Expressions of
Torture. *****
(Signed) John Adams
LETTER EROK GENERAL MEADE.
The following letter from General Meade
was written in the field near the Rappahan
nock. As copies of it have done some service
through Trinity Church for the Sanitary Fair,
it has claim to a place among the records
of Our Daily Fare:
Headquarters, Army of the Potomac, 1
April Bth, 1864. /
Reverend and Dear Sir: I have the honor to
acknowledge the receipt of a copy of the elo
quent sermon delivered by you on the day of
National Thanksgiving, November 26, 1863,
and in behalf of the noble army under my
command, thank you most kindly for the grat
ifying mention made by you of the services it
rendered the country at Gettysburg, and for
your just appreciation of the great victory
won by its valor, under the favor of God, on
that memorable field.
I am, very respectfully, your obe’t servant,
Geo. G. Meade.
Major-General Com'ng.
Rev. David Washburne, Phil'a., Pa.
VICTORY!
BY KIKE O’DONNEL
Up to tho continent’s dome, to tho monument mountains
old;
Round by the ocean that rears round by our torrents of
gold;
Out from our commonwealths free, one shout, one acclaim
shall be given,
Nature’s one voice shall be ours, bearing Heaven’s mes
sage to Heaven I
Now the long peril is past—lo! in the battle the omen
victory! victory! rolled—rolled in the wreck of the
foemen!
Giant the triumph but long—long the fierce death-volley
rattles;
Bleeding, our legions press on, rounding the cycle of
battles.
Strong as tho forests they stood, gun to gun, shoulder to
shoulder,
Charged with their eyes to the fire—nevor our eagles
were bolder;
Then how they Bwooped on tho foe! Fallen his pride at
meridian,
Smote by the sword of the Lord—sword of the Lord and
of Gideou!
0! the ages shall hear, and be proud, how our yeomon
went into the onset;
Stormed hill, the red day was won, and with banners rode
into the sunset,
Glory of Israel theirs—theirs the promise of Canaan!
Charged with the thunders of Grant—charged with the
young Pennsylvanian!
But a marshal fell dead at his post, and midway in honor,
Wadsworth! thy noble white-head went down like a
banner!
Pity the wounds and the sweat—pity the sorrowful corsos
Cramped in the ashes of death, trampled down by the
horses!
Pell-mell and ovor the guns, prone and aghast unto
Heaven,
Lonoly and uncarossed—but sublime that they’ve striveu!
Oh! to be with them! or on, on with the legions unshaken,
Flush by the flag—one in the shout— Richmond is taken !
When tho long battle-march o’er, homeward the soldier
returning, .
Light shall his heart be; again, maiden’s bright eyes
Bhall be burning,
Loved of the land which he saved, prouder the step that
he marches!
Cheer him in triumph the way under the heaven’s blue
arches!
Joy to the victor again! Wido open the portal!
Scatter with roses the way. Hail to the hero immortal!
Patient we wait for the end! Sober and solemn the
praises;
Deeper than tumult the joy Freedom In homage upraises
Here from the granite hearts’-faith, strong with tip
truth that we offer,
Mighty and earnest to do, steadfast and silent to suffer.
O’er all the anguish and death rest benediction supernal;
Peace! spread thy gentle white wings, brooding etornal.