“Yes, oh yes!” he replied, with a half sigh; “but then I have wounded Mr. James!”
Afterwards he extended to me his hand, with his beaming smile, and said—
“We shall meet in the morning!”
But when comes that morning? We have now parted for a long time. But it is true, that if one ever meets a spirit like that of Channing, it must be felt like a meeting in the morning.
I recollect one evening party at the S.'s with especial pleasure. There were a sufficiency of space, air, flowers, and some remarkably agreeable people. A noble, handsome Miss S. recited a poem with much pathos of voice, but otherwise altogether quietly. She and her handsome sister wore real chrysanthemums in their hair. One most charming young girl played on the piano one of her own compositions, full of sweet feeling. Young C. sang. They danced also. It was a gay, agreeable party, where each performed some social duty, and where all seemed to enjoy life, and each other's society.
On Monday morning we set off, taking our way through Connecticut. I left New York and Brooklyn with many an unanswered letter of invitation, many unvisited schools and institutions coming speeding after me, as if to lay hold upon me! I had a bad conscience. I actually ran away from the battle of people. I could not do otherwise. If I had been two people I could not have answered all the invitations, calls, etc.,—and I am only one! But I shall return to New York. I must yet see something more of its best and of its worst; among the latter, that portion of the city which is called “Five Points,” from five streets coming together at one place, and where the lowest and the most dangerous population of the city has its abode. I asked Mr. D., in joke, whether he would go through the “Five Points,” with me. He answered decidedly, “No.” Ah! “Il bello è il buono”
