LETTER XXXIX.
Good morning, my beloved child, on this beautiful morning in the chief city of Virginia. I have just returned from a ramble in the park round the capital, from which I have seen the beautiful river, St. James, in the Indian tongue, Powkaton, with its foaming fall, and its calm water, bright as silver, winding on their way through verdant plains, and hills far, far away, into the country. A glorious view from this magnificent capital. I wished that the intellectual and moral view from the States' seat of government corresponded with it. But Virginia is a Slave State, and its views open, and its river of life flows, as in all other Slave States, for one half of its population only. We are reminded of this the moment we reach the gate of the park of the capital; for on the pillars of the gate is placed the announcement in large letters, declaring that any slave who ventures within these gates shall be liable to a punishment of thirty-nine lashes! One cannot enjoy or admire anything in the Slave States, without having one's pleasure disturbed by these lashes!
But in a material respect, how well watered is North America! Throughout all its states flow these beautiful navigable rivers, which, like great arteries, receive into themselves innumerable lesser streams and brooks, and convey to all places the life and the fruits of civilisation! I cannot contemplate these beautiful rivers without the hope that they will prepare the way for the noblest of all.
I parted from my kind Mrs. W. H., who had become
