On our return we saw the celebrated Charter Oak. The early settlers of this place had obtained from the second Charles, and that in the very year in which 2,000 ministers were ejected from the Church of England, a most favourable charter--far more so than the Colonial Office in the present day would grant. Charles, however, repented having granted it, and in 1687 sent over Sir Edmund Andross, under some pretence or other, to demand it back. It was night, and the Legislative Assembly were convened on the subject, when suddenly the lights were extinguished, and the charter was missing. For a long time it was not known, except to the initiated, what had become of it. When, however, the danger was past, the Charter was forthcoming. It had been concealed in the hollow of this old oak, which still survives. I was gratified in seeing the document carefully preserved in the office of the Secretary of State. It is dated 1662, and "in the fourteenth year of our reign," though in reality Charles had then reigned but two years. LETTER XXXIII. The "Retreat"--Introductions to the Insane--Piety and Profanity --Service in the Fourth Church--Memorials of the Pilgrims--Dr. Bushnell and his Opinions--The Mother Church and its Burying-Ground --The New Cemetery--Prejudice against Colour--Mrs. Sigourney--Departure from Hartford--Worcester and Elihu Burritt--Boston--The Rev. Seth Bliss--The Cradle of Liberty--Mr. Garrison--Bunker's Hill. Having seen the Charter Oak, let us proceed in company with the Rev. Mr. Gallaudet to the "Retreat for the Insane," of which he is chaplain. The place is delightfully situated, and severity of treatment carefully avoided. As we pass from room to room, we are very gravely and formally introduced, as strangers in the country, to the inmates. Here we are introduced to a tall muscular old lady, who has her cap fantastically trimmed with bits of ribbon of various gaudy colours. With an air of assumed politeness and dignity, she asks me if I have been to Washington. On receiving a reply in the negative, she expresses great regret, and inquires if I have seen "Dan Webster," and, without waiting for an answer, hurries on, "Fine fellow Dan,--some solid timbers about Dan,--indeed, the Yankees altogether are not to be sniffed at." I nodded the most entire assent to all she said. We enter another room, and are introduced to a curious groupe. One woman has tied her mouth up with a handkerchief, to prevent her talking too much. She tells us that at first she had tied it over her ears, to prevent her hearing another woman's voice, who is constantly talking to herself, and making her head ache; but that she found her own tongue then going faster than anybody else's. She had therefore adopted the _wise_ plan of tying her own mouth. She is eloquent in the praises of the institution, and calls it "A blessed Retreat--a blessed Retreat."