Virgie's note. Poor afflicted child. I learn, however, by Henry's letter of this morning that she is much better. I hope to start this week for home, but may be prevented for a little longer, though I hope not. I am glad to hear you are well, but sorry enough to learn that the cold is so severe. You must not spare the fires, and let the winter slide as gently as possible. I hope our dear children are well; give them my best love, and regards to your father. It is so much easier to tell details than to write them, that I wait for particulars till I see you. All inquire for you, but say you did wisely, for a short session, in not coming. Much love. Affectionately yours, D. S. D. MR. JOHN R. DICKINSON TO MR. DICKINSON. BINGHAMTON, January 14, 1847. DEAR D. S.-I have just returned from Norwich, having left there at nine this morning. We had such word, Monday evening, that sister Lydia thought she must go at once. I thought she ought to go if possible; but Tuesday she was not able to start till afternoon. The weather was severe, and as she was so feeble I concluded to go with her, my anxiety about Virgie contributing also to my going. We fixed up a carriage comfortably as possible, and Julia and I went with her, with Manco to drive. Went to Greene that night, and next forenoon to Norwich very comfortably. Lydia stood the ride very well, and was better this morning when we left than when she started from home. We found Virginia better than I expected. She is very weak and sick; but from seeing her I have strong hope of her recovery, which, from all accounts, I before hardly dared entertain. She had a very bad day Sunday, but has been better since; she spoke cheerfully, and her eyes looked bright. I repeat, I have considerable hope. These favorable symptoms may change, but if she can be kept quiet, and treated just right, I think she will recover. Dr. Jackson has gone up to-day. I did not see him-passed him in the stage. You will have an account of her from him. Yours truly, J. R. DICKINSON. MR. DICKINSON TO MRS. DICKINSON. WASHINGTON, January 14, 1847. MY DEAR LYDIA-I have not yet heard from you since I came here. The snow is deep, deeper than I have ever seen it, and it was for two or three days as cold as it ever is in Binghamton. It is now more moderate, but the deep snow is yet with us. I found my presence here very necessary, and if you are not sick I shall feel as contented as I can. I had a letter from Henry last night, dated the 9th. Virginia was, if any change, better, but it seems there was not much change any way. The roads have been blocked up ever since I came here, and passengers have to wait at the Susquehanna river at Havre De Grace, two or three days before they can get away. My journey was a very hard one, but I was well, and, notwithstanding I was overturned in the stage, got here safely. I have not been out any since I came here. I found a great many letters, and have been busy in arranging and answering them. Very much love to our dear ones. Affectionately, D. S. DICKINSON. MR. JOHN R. DICKINSON. BINGHAMTON, January 15, 1847. DEAR D. S.-I regret exceedingly that Dr. Jackson's report of Virginia does not confirm the favorable conclusion I formed from her appearance when I was at Norwich, and which I communicated to you last evening. It seems her favorable symptoms were but temporary, and he thinks there is too much reason to apprehend a crisis, which we cannot contemplate with out the deepest emotions of sorrow. The doctor thinks she may continue in this way for some time, unless some new difficulty should intervene; in which case, in her weak state, she might run down very soon. I still cannot but hope, but it is best to prepare our minds for what we are compelled to apprehend. The children here are well. Mrs. Dickinson, Dr. Jackson says, is also as well as when we left her. I send a letter from the Doctor by this mail. Yours very truly, J. R. DICKINSON. Hon. D. S. DICKINSON. MR. DIX TO MR. DICKINSON. WASHINGTON, January 18, 1847. MY DEAR SIR-The telegraphic dispatch which you enclosed to me, with a note of your departure, gave my wife and myself the deepest pain. I write to assure you and Mrs. Dickinson of our heartfelt sympathy. We yet hope and pray that you may be spared the affliction with which you are threatened. Yours truly, JOHN A. DIX. more. MR. DICKINSON TO MR. ROGERS. BINGHAMTON, January 21, 1846. MY DEAR R.-I write you with a bleeding heart. That beloved and cherished child, whom I so dearly idolized, is no Her pure and sinless spirit is in Heaven, and all that is mortal of Virginia sleeps upon the banks of the Chenango, where she loved to wander when a child to hear the wild birds, and gather the carliest flowers of spring. O my God! and is it a reality? Would that it were one of those wild and fevered dreams, that pain the heart in moments of slumber, and depart again with waking. My love for that dear child was passing the love of woman. She was the pride and joy of her friends; a rosebud in the wreath of domestic hope. "You that have such, can only know my loss; you that have lost them or expect to lose, can only know my pangs." But one of the ties that has bound me too closely to earth is severed; that "silver cord is loosed, and the golden bowl is broken." "She will not return to me, but I shall go to her." Adieu, D. MR. CROSWELL TO MR. DICKINSON. ALBANY, January 23, 1847. MY DEAR SIR-Although we had already received the melancholy tidings of the death of your beloved daughter, it was not until this evening that the receipt of the Binghamton papers with your frank, assured me that you still remained with your family since the afflicting event. I write now, not to attempt consolation, for that must come from a higher source; but to assure you that your friends here and everywhere sympathize with you in your great affliction. Alas! how little, and how wisely, we are permitted to know of the future. That youth, on the threshold of life, with the fairest hopes and in the fulness of health, should be called away before those whom years and deep-seated maladies had seemed to mark out for earlier victims, is among the inscruta ble things which we may not desire to fathom. We all fear the effect upon Mrs. Dickinson's health; but she and you have the great consolation to know that the departed went not unprepared; that as she was beloved here, so is the offering the more acceptable beyond this transitory state of being; and that so far as there are other existences, it is incalculable gain to her. This, though it may aggravate the sense of loss and deprivation, is a consolation which time will enable you more fully to realize perhaps than now. My wife and family unite with me in affectionate condolence with Mrs. Dickinson, yourself, and family; and I remain, With sincere regards and regrets, Your friend, E. CROSWELL. MR. WASSON TO MR. DICKINSON. ALBANY, January 24, 1847. MY DEAR FRIEND-Before the receipt of the paper you had sent, the tear of sympathy had been shed in my family for your affliction. Although you had advised me under date of December 27th, that you had some serious apprehensions, and was going home, I saw by the papers your return to Washington, and heard nothing more until I read the account of your daughter's death in the Journal. I was struck as with an electric shock, and could not but say to myself, "It cannot be possible!" But alas! it is too true; and how feeble the combined wisdom of man in such cases! We stand amazed and can only say, "The Lord gave, and the Lord taketh away; blessed be His name." I know, my friend, from experience, how to mourn with you and your dear family on this occasion. You have the consolation of knowing that she rests with her Redeemer, and you have only to mourn her loss and pleasant company. What we know not now, we shall know hereafter. I hope Mrs. Dickinson will bear this severe affliction with fortitude and resignation, and remember that she has a duty to other dear children that are spared to her. If you return through this city, let me see you. JAMES D. WASSON, MR. ROGERS TO MR. AND MRS. DICKINSON. BUFFALO, January 25, 1847. MY DEAR FRIENDS-I have perused with profound grief your announcement of the death of your lovely and cherished daughter. How hardly can I realize that she whom I saw less than a year since, flushed with health, buoyant with hope, and for whom the future was so full of promise: that sprightly, intelligent, and lovely girl, now sleeps the sleep of death. How dif ficult is it to comprehend that all which was merely mortal of |