This Betsy you may remember to have heard mentioned near the name of
Natty Huntington, who died last December; and a very angel she was
too, I assure you. You see I speak of her in the _past_ sense, for she
has left us; and her friends are sure she is not less an angel _now_
than she was ten days ago. Very certain I am, that if a natural
sweetness of disposition can scale Heaven's walls, she went over like
a bird. But I believe we must leave _her_ and all the rest of our
departed friends to be sentenced by a higher Board.

"Transports last not in the human heart;
But all with transports soon agree to part."

If nature, in spite of us, did not take care of herself, we could not
but be perfectly wretched. Philosophy is the emptiest word in the
dictionary. And you may observe, wherever you find them, that those
persons who profess to place all their reliance upon it, under every
affecting circumstance of life, do but make use of the term as a mask
for an iron heart. "But" (as the devil said on another occasion) "put
forth thine hand, and touch his bone, and his flesh, and he will curse
thee to thy face." They have as little fortitude as anybody when
sufferings pinch home upon them.

Thus have I relieved a heart that perhaps felt a little too full; and
if it is at the expense of my _head_, I have nevertheless the
consolation that it will be received only as the overflowings of my
present feelings.

"When and where shall I see you again?" somebody once asked me. The
Lord only knows. Perhaps at the election at Hartford. If we can meet
_there_--there will be time for notice. But, happen as it may, be