Was it not striking? Here are the Mathematics (Peirce), and Natural Science (Agassiz), and they easily understand each other, because the lecturer's principle is true. The three or four years which Mr. Dewey spent in Boston with his family were full of enjoyment to him; but in December, 1861, he withdrew finally to Sheffield, which he never left again for more than a few weeks or months at a time. To Rev. Henry W. Bellows, D.D. SHEFFIELD, July 26, 1861. MY DEAR BELLOWS,--God bless you for what you and your Sanitary Commission are doing for our people in the camps It goes to my heart to be sitting here in quiet and comfort, these lovely summer days, while they [258] are braving and enduring so much. And so, though of silver and gold I have not much, I send my mite, to help, the little that I can, the voluntary contribution for your purposes. Last Monday night [Alluding to the battle and rout of Bull Run, July 1861] was the bitterest time we have had yet some, even in this quiet village, did not sleep a wink. Confound sensation newspapers and newspaper correspondents that fellow who writes is enough to drive one mad. The "Evening Post" is the wisest paper. But it is too bad that that rabble of civilians and teamsters should have brought this apparent disgrace upon us. We have an immense amount of inexperience, and of rash, opinionated thinking to deal with; but we shall get over it all. If you are staying in New York, I wish you could run up and take a little breathing-time with us. Come any time; we have always a bed for you. We are all well, and all unite in love to you and E. Yours ever, ORVILLE DEWEY. To Miss Catherine M. Seagwick. SHEFFIELD, Feb. 5, 1862. My FRIEND,--I must report myself to you. I must have you sympathize with my life, or--I will not say I shall drown myself in the Housatonic, but I shall feel as if the old river had dried up, and forsaken its bed. I do not know how to set about telling you how happy I am in the old home. I feel as if I had arrived after a long voyage, or were reposing after a day's [259] work that had been forty years long. Indeed, it is forty-two years last autumn since I left Andover and began to preach. And I have never before had any cessation of work but what I regarded as temporary. Indeed, I have never before had the means to retire upon. And although it is but a modest competence,—$1,500 a year,—yet I am most devoutly thankful to Heaven that I have it, and that I am not turned out, like an old horse upon the common. To be sure, I should be glad to be able to live nearer to the centres of society; but you can hardly imagine what comfort and satisfaction I feel in having enough to live upon, instead of the utter poverty which I might well have feared would be, and which so often is, the end of a clergyman's life.{23} {FN 23: He had just received a legacy of $5,000 from Miss Eliza Townsend, of Boston}