Congress! Of a truth then would the Congress of the United States become a magnificent drama, a spectacle worthy of Gods and men!
July 25th.—A cordial good-morning to you, my sweet Agatha, from a wonderfully lovely country-seat, with a view commanding the outlet of the river Patapscos into Chesapeak Bay near Baltimore. I am here with Miss Dix, a guest at General S.'s, on my way to Philadelphia. My host is a lively, cordial, clever, loquacious officer, whose wife is a beautiful quiet woman, the happy mother of ten young children; they are evidently a happy married pair, with a good and happy home. I feel such immediately on entering the house.
Having taken the kindest leave of my hearty, good and kind entertainers at Washington, and of my beloved Quakeress friend, I set off with Miss Dix, and an agreeable friend of the Downings, Mr. William R.: but it was a difficult and fatiguing day's journey, in the great heat and from many delays, in consequence of the road being broken up by the floods. I was enabled, however, to see some beautiful views of the Susquehanna river.
Late in the evening I sate in the most beautiful moonlight alone with Miss Dix, on the balcony of General S.'s Villa, looking out upon the gleaming river, the broad Chesapeak Bay, and listening to the story of her simple but extraordinary life's destiny. Among all the varying scenes of my life in this country, this was not one of the least interesting. I asked Miss Dix to tell me what it was which had directed her into the path which she now pursues, as the public protector and advocate of the unfortunate. I will tell you more of her narrative by word of mouth; now merely the words with which she replied to my question regarding the circumstances which had decided her career.
“It was,” said she, “no remarkable occurrence, nor change in my inner or outer life, it was merely an act
