declared myself to be a friend of war, of a good righteous war, when, at least, peace cannot have a great and prolonged life on earth. But what is now the state of the world during a long peace? Do not thousands of little dwarfs stick up their heads and fight with pins or pen-points, sticking and scratching from right to left, calling up petty-mindedness, selfishness, bitterness, causing petty affronts, wretched gratification, idle tales and endless vexation in every quarter? Is not society broken up into a thousand little quarrels and little contentions? If now a serious, honourable war occurred, like the giants who crush the dwarfs. People would then forget their petty contentions for great common interests. In these they would again become brothers: and after the giants come the gods, and with them the renovation of life.[1] Mankind must evidently grow in heart and in intelligence; and the community must perfect its work before they talk about universal peace. This must proceed from within.
Among the questions which were this evening put to me was this:—“What do you think of so many people coming to see you?”—“I wish that I were handsomer!” replied I, simply, and with truth.
Our host was a man of agreeable person, frank and kind as a true American, his wife was a graceful, agreeable woman, with the stamp of peacefulness and refinement which I have frequently observed in the Quaker women, and which makes them particularly charming to me. She had lost an only child; and had now adopted as her own a little boy, who loved her as a mother, and who scarcely could be happy when away from her.
We spent the forenoon of the following day in visiting several small homes, many of them belonging to families of Quakers, which were all distinguished by their order
- ↑ As Translator I beg to dissent considerably from these views of Miss Bremer.—M. H.
