while he fled for life, and the freed slaves sang hymns of joy to God. I saw the roads, five miles wide, level, barren, and crossed with ruts, where Northern and Southern armies had marched, and where villages and plantations had once been. I saw countless friends or acquaintances, who had once smiled with pitying scorn at me, or delicately turned the conversation when Abolition was mentioned in my presence, become all at once blatant "nigger-worshippers," abundant in proof that they had always had "an indescribable horror of slavery"--it was, in fact, so indescribable that (until it was evident that the North would conquer) none of them ever succeeded in giving anybody the faintest conception of it, or any idea that it existed. I can still recall how gingerly and cautiously--"paw by paw into the water"--these dough faces became hard- baked Abolitionists, far surpassing us of the Old Guard in zeal. I lived to see men who had voted against Grant and _reviled_ him become his most intimate friends. But enough of such memories. It is characteristic of the American people that, while personally very vindictive, they forgive and forget political offences far more amicably--very far--than do even the English. However, in the case of the Rebellion, this was a very easy thing for those to do who had not, like us old Abolitionists, borne the burden and heat of the day, and who, coming in at the eleventh hour, got all the contracts and offices! It never came into the head of any man to write a _Dictionnaire des Girouettes_ in America. These late converts had never known what it was to be Abolitionists while it was "unfashionable," and have, as it were, live coals laid on the quivering heart--as I had a thousand times during many years--all for believing the tremendous and plain truth that _slavery_ was a thousand times wickeder than the breach of all the commandments put together. It was so peculiar for any man, not a Unitarian or Quaker, to be an _Abolitionist_ in Philadelphia from 1848 until 1861, that such exceptions were pointed out as if they had been Chinese--"and d---d bad Chinese at that," as a friend added to whom I made the remark. So much for man's relations with poor humanity. My old friend, B. P. Hunt, was one of these few exceptions. His was a very strange experience. After ceasing to edit a "selected" magazine, he went to and fro for many voyages to Haiti, where, singular as it may seem, his experiences of the blacks made of him a stern Abolitionist. He married a connection of mine, and lived comfortably in Philadelphia, I think, until the eighties.