I came back to New York earlier than usual, worked steadily at my profession and with increasing success, and began to accept opportunities (which I had previously declined) of making myself personally known to the great, impressible, fickle, tyrannical public.  One or two of my speeches in the hall of the Cooper Institute, on various occasions—­as you may perhaps remember—­gave me a good headway with the party, and were the chief cause of my nomination for the State office which I still hold. (There, on the table, lies a resignation, written to-day, but not yet signed.  We’ll talk of it afterwards.)

Several months passed by, and no further letter reached me.  I gave up much of my time to society, moved familiarly in more than one province of the kingdom here, and vastly extended my acquaintance, especially among the women; but not one of them betrayed the mysterious something or other—­really I can’t explain precisely what it was!—­which I was looking for.  In fact, the more I endeavored quietly to study the sex, the more confused I became.

At last I was subjected to the usual onslaught from the strong-minded.  A small but formidable committee entered my office one morning and demanded a categorical declaration of my principles.  What my views on the subject were, I knew very well; they were clear and decided; and yet, I hesitated to declare them!  It wasn’t a temptation of Saint Anthony—­that is, turned the other way—­and the belligerent attitude of the dames did not alarm me in the least; but she! What was her position?  How could I best please her?  It flashed upon my mind, while Mrs. ——­ was making her formal speech, that I had taken no step for months without a vague, secret reference to her.  So, I strove to be courteous, friendly, and agreeably non-committal; begged for further documents, and promised to reply by letter, in a few days.

I was hardly surprised to find the well-known hand on the envelope of a letter, shortly afterwards.  I held it for a minute in my palm, with an absurd hope that I might sympathetically feel its character, before breaking the seal.  Then I read it with a great sense of relief.

“I have never assumed to guide a man, except toward the full exercise of his powers.  It is not opinion in action, but opinion in a state of idleness or indifference, which repels me.  I am deeply glad that you have gained so much since you left the country.  If, in shaping your course, you have thought of me, I will frankly say that, to that extent, you have drawn nearer.  Am I mistaken in conjecturing that you wish to know my relation to the movement concerning which you were recently interrogated?  In this, as in other instances which may come, I must beg you to consider me only as a spectator.  The more my own views may seem likely to sway your action, the less I shall be inclined to declare them.  If you find this cold or unwomanly, remember that