The weather and scenery are usually splendid just now. Did I see you (in white frock and black silk apron) when I was in Ohio in 1835? Your sister I knew well, and I have a clear recollection of your father. I believe and hope you were the young lady in the black silk apron.
Do you know I rather dreaded reading your book! Sick people are weak: and one of my chief weaknesses is dislike of novels,--(except some old ones which I almost know by heart). I knew that with you I should be safe from the cobweb-spinning of our modern subjective novelists and the jaunty vulgarity of our “funny philosophers” --the Dickens sort, who have tired us out. But I dreaded the alternative,--the too strong interest. But oh! the delight I have had in “Dred!” The genius carries all before it, and drowns everything in glorious pleasure. So marked a work of genius claims exemption from every sort of comparison; but, as you ask for my opinion of the book, you may like to know that I think it far superior to Uncle Tom. I have no doubt that a multitude of people will say it is a falling off, because they made up their minds that