I began to think so, too, as the afternoon went on--for he puzzled me greatly. All of these young men are being educated at Harvard College, yet they did not appear to regard their opportunities as unusual, and their references to the professors were not respectful. Edward H. inquired whether I read French and on my saying yes, he at once asked me if I had a good pony--and I told him I did not ride on horseback at all, which seemed to amuse them greatly, and Anna afterward explained that a _pony_ was a translation--a key of the whole lesson which the teachers do not expect them to use, but which nearly the entire class possess. We talked about the matter a little, and I said I should not think one could learn anything thus, and Edward H. replied “_That_ is not what we go to Harvard for!” How strange it sounded! And yet it was not so distressing to me as the discovery that these young men have absolutely no interest in anti-slavery movements. They talked about Garrison and Phillips as fanatics, and said “This meddling with other people’s concerns is a very dangerous business.” I ventured to ask “And was it not ‘meddling’ to throw the tea overboard.” But they said I was getting too deep for them. And then F. A. told me that only a very insignificant part of Boston people respected the Abolitionists. This new party they admitted has an anti-slavery wing, but that it must be clipped or we shall have trouble. “Trouble” I cried--and I admit, mother dear, that I talked perhaps, more than I ought--“how can a man rest easy without troubling the public conscience about the poor slaves.” A. tried to show me that the best way to eradicate slavery is to be on good terms with the slaveholders, and have no concern for the black man, who is only an animal--I think he said--after all, and when it proves itself a failure in a business sense, as he admitted it must be, then slavery will die out! Not a spark of humanity about him, not a thought of God’s suffering children, only a fear of disturbing business relations with a rich section! My heart stood almost still with astonishment. Here in Boston, where I had looked for the broadest humanity and the clearest intelligence, here on the lips of the descendant of a great patriot were words of cowardice and self-seeking! When at last the boat turned about, and the young men gave Anna W. and myself lessons in rowing, we came again to the little landing, and there on the bank stood aunt in search of us. I felt mortified, and would have explained only that I could not reproach others, and I expected her to reprimand me, but lo! she only shook her finger and said: “Well, girls will be girls, and even a pretty Quakeress is not proof against temptation.” How I wanted to tell the whole story! But, mother dear, I did not. Was I wrong? And the young men went away and my cheeks burned as aunt called after them, “I know you will want to see those roses again.” Good-night dear, dear mother.