Almost every day, while he was lecturing in America, he would send off little notes exquisitely written in point of penmanship, and sometimes embellished with characteristic pen-drawings.  Having attended an extemporaneous supper festival at “Porter’s,” he was never tired of “going again.”  Here is a scrap of paper holding these few words, written in 1852.

    “Nine o’clock, P.M.  Tremont.

    “Arrangements have just been concluded for a meeting somewhere
    to-night, which we much desire you should attend.  Are you equal to
    two nights running of good time?”

Then follows a pen portrait of a friend of his with a cloven foot and a devil’s tail just visible under his cloak Sometimes, to puzzle his correspondent, he would write in so small a hand that the note could not be read without the aid of a magnifying-glass.  Calligraphy was to him one of the fine arts, and he once told Dr. John Brown of Edinburgh, that if all trades failed, he would earn sixpences by writing the Lord’s Prayer and the Creed (not the Athanasian) in the size of that coin.  He greatly delighted in rhyming and lisping notes and billets.  Here is one of them, dated from Baltimore without signature:—­

“Dear F——­th!  The thanguinary fateth (I don’t know what their anger meanth) brought me your letter of the eighth, yethterday, only the fifteenth!  What blunder cauthed by chill delay (thee Doctor Johnthon’th noble verthe) Thuth kept my longing thoul away, from all that motht I love on earth?  Thankth for the happy contenth!—­thothe Dithpatched to J.G.K. and Thonth, and that thmall letter you inclothe from Parith, from my dearetht oneth!  I pray each month may tho increathe my thmall account with J.G.  King, that all the thipth which croth the theath, good tidingth of my girlth may bring!—­that every blething fortune yieldth, I altho pray, may come to path on Mithter and Mrth.  J.T.  F——­th, and all good friendth in Bothton, Math.!”

While he was staying at the Clarendon Hotel, in New York, every morning’s mail brought a few lines, sometimes only one line, sometimes only two words, from him, reporting progress.  One day he tells me:  “Immense hawdience last night.”  Another day he says:  “Our shares look very much up this morning.”  On the 29th of November, 1852, he writes:  “I find I have a much bigger voice than I knew of, and am not afraid of anybody.”  At another time he writes:  “I make no doubt you have seen that admirable paper, the New York Herald, and are aware of the excellent reception my lectures are having in this city.  It was a lucky Friday when first I set foot in this country.  I have nearly saved the fifty dollars you lent me in Boston.”  In a letter from Savannah, dated the 19th of March, 1853, in answer to one I had written to him, telling him that a charming epistle, which accompanied the gift of a silver mug he had sent to me some time before, had been stolen from me, he says:—­