‘A.  I. NOEL BYRON.’

I found Lady Byron in her sick-room,—­that place which she made so different from the chamber of ordinary invalids.  Her sick-room seemed only a telegraphic station whence her vivid mind was flashing out all over the world.

By her bedside stood a table covered with books, pamphlets, and files of letters, all arranged with exquisite order, and each expressing some of her varied interests.  From that sick-bed she still directed, with systematic care, her various works of benevolence, and watched with intelligent attention the course of science, literature, and religion; and the versatility and activity of her mind, the flow of brilliant and penetrating thought on all the topics of the day, gave to the conversations of her retired room a peculiar charm.  You forgot that she was an invalid; for she rarely had a word of her own personalities, and the charm of her conversation carried you invariably from herself to the subjects of which she was thinking.  All the new books, the literature of the hour, were lighted up by her keen, searching, yet always kindly criticism; and it was charming to get her fresh, genuine, clear-cut modes of expression, so different from the world-worn phrases of what is called good society.  Her opinions were always perfectly clear and positive, and given with the freedom of one who has long stood in a position to judge the world and its ways from her own standpoint.  But it was not merely in general literature and science that her heart lay; it was following always with eager interest the progress of humanity over the whole world.

This was the period of the great battle for liberty in Kansas.  The English papers were daily filled with the thrilling particulars of that desperate struggle, and Lady Byron entered with heart and soul into it.

Her first letter to me, at this time, is on this subject.  It was while ‘Dred’ was going through the press.

’CAMBRIDGE TERRACE, Aug. 15.

’MY DEAR MRS. STOWE,—­Messrs. Chambers liked the proposal to publish the Kansas Letters.  The more the public know of these matters, the better prepared they will be for your book.  The moment for its publication seems well chosen.  There is always in England a floating fund of sympathy for what is above the everyday sordid cares of life; and these better feelings, so nobly invested for the last two years in Florence Nightingale’s career, are just set free.  To what will they next be attached?  If you can lay hold of them, they may bring about a deeper abolition than any legislative one,—­the abolition of the heart- heresy that man’s worth comes, not from God, but from man.

’I have been obliged to give up exertion again, but hope soon to be able to call and make the acquaintance of your daughters.  In case you wish to consult H. Martineau’s pamphlets, I send more copies.  Do not think of answering:  I have occupied too much of your time in reading.

’Yours affectionately,