I am confident you will pardon the liberty taken in thus addressing you, when I tell you of my deep interest in you, and of my pleasure in listening to the great powers of voice which God has given you. My father is Gerrit Smith--being his daughter, how can I but hope that your efforts may be crowned with the most brilliant success. I have a few suggestions to make, respecting your dress. You were dressed with great modesty and with much simplicity; still there are some things it would be well for you to lay aside. Wear nothing in your hair, unless it be a cluster of white flowers in the back; never wear _coloured_ flowers, nor flowing ribbons. Let your dress be a plain black silk, high at the back of the neck, and open in front about half way to the waist: under this, wear a square of lace, tarltan, or muslin, doubled and laid in folds to cross over the breast. Wear muslin under sleeves, and _white kid gloves--always_. Dress very loosely. I would advise no whalebones, (but perhaps you are not prepared for that reform.) In case you should lay them aside, a sacque of the same material as the dress would be very pretty to conceal the figure. If you tire of the black silk, a steel colour would be a good change--but these two are preferable to all others. Your pocket handkerchief should be unfolded and somewhat tumbled, not held by a point in the centre; perhaps it would be better to have it in your pocket, quite out of sight--the piece of music is enough for the hands. I rejoice in the dignity of your deportment and in the good hours you keep. I have said this much in relation to your dress, because I know how important it is that, in the midst of all the prejudice against those of your colour, that your appearance should be _strikingly genteel_. A word or two about your singing: "Native Scenes" was particularly sweet, because sung with feeling. Let it be your aim to enter with your whole soul into the spirit of your words. In the "Last Rose of Summer," you sang "_senseless_" for _scentless_--it may have been owing to a printer's mistake--"_scentless_" is the true word. With sincere desires for your highest good, believe me, Your friend, E. S. M. Albany, Jan. 19, 1852--Daily State Register.