it can, and as far as it can, and casting off to a future period what it cannot now entirely work out. "I resume my letter which has been in my portfolio unfinished for more than a week. A current of affairs suddenly struck me, and swept me on so incessantly that I have not before been able to return to it. You must not infer, however, that I affect any special industry, or that I am ordinarily so busy. My life has vibrated between a leisure in which I amused myself with books, and the greatest activity in pubic and private affairs; and, if the last few months have been as engrossingly occupied as any part of it with professional and personal business, I do not expect or desire it to be generally so hereafter. What has most exacted attention was temporary and occasional, and has, as yet, produced, and may produce nothing to me or to others, though lest such a confession excite too much pity for me I will add that in the mean time what has cost me comparatively little trouble has been sufficiently fruitful. My disposition is not to permit merely private business to engross me, nor to be in any of an unprofessional nature which creates anxiety. I have never been accustomed to surrender to it my inner life, or to allow its cares to fill those little interstices between actual occupation which are instinctively given to, and which characterize our ruling habits of thought and feeling. There no doubt is danger, as the relations of business multiply around us and our enthusiasm for public objects is qualified or weakened and our sympathies often come back upon us as the chilled blood returns from the extremities to the heart, that what furnishes occupation to our activity without the trouble of seeking it and without making us inquire whether we choose it, will grow too much upon our attention. But I desire to reserve something to better purpose--something to friends and to myself, and possibly, if hereafter I can recall the enthusiasm of early years, with a share of its former strength and steadiness, something to consecrate life by a sense that it has not been wholly given to objects so selfishly egotistical as are most of those which we pursue. It is time for me to stop; for I am moralizing, when I began merely to exclude a possible inference that I have not leisure to care for the wishes and interests of my friends, and to assure you that I am always happier if I can serve them, and glad to talk with them, as I now do, even if it be at such a frightful distance as, in this age of ocean steamers, railways, and telegraphs, to put a quarter of a year between question and answer.