While the Atlantic rolls between us, allow me, dear friend,1 to gratify my feelings, by addressing to you this little volume, as a testimony of that friendship which nearly twenty summers have ripened; and which, founded on a parity of mind and principle, and a sympathy of feeling, neither time nor distance will, I trust, weaken or destroy.

“Is it ought so fair,

In the birth eye of Hesper, in the morn,'

In Nature’s fairest forms—Is ought so fair

As virtuous friendship?”

1 Eliza Fenwick.