Anna Dickinson
General Correspondence
Johnson, Oliver
1864-88Anti-Slavery Office,
New York, 22 Sept. 1864
My Dear Friend,
I am going off for a
month to New England, to recruit
my strength, impaired by the
labor of the summer. I cannot
leave without sending you a line
of congratulations in view of your
letter to the Independent, which
you saw I copied as speedily
as possible. Where will you 
“stump” during the campaign?
For, I take it for granted that
you have many applications.
I see you are set down for a
lecture in the maternity coursenext month. Will you want to
speak in New York on your way
to or from Boston? I am sorry I can’t
be here to manage for you, unless
you can defer your appearance
till after the 20th of Oct., when
I shall have returned. The hall
might be engaged in my absence
by my Clerk, W. H. Leonard, acting
in my name. If you want to come earlier, Gould will
perhaps undertake to make
the arrangements, though he has
always depended on me.
All this talk is purely
hypothetical, of course. I merely
inferred that you might want
to speak here before or after

doing so in Boston; but perhaps
you have other prospects. Wherever
you go, you have my best
wishes.
How splendid is our prospect
now! It looks as if Old Abe
would carry all the states
but Kentucky, and perhaps
New Jersey, by majorities greater
than those he had in 1860.
Well, he is not the man I wish
he were, but we shall worry
through with him I am sure.
The worst of it is. The Radicals
(too many of them) have wasted
their power in foolish, factions
and abortive ways, so that they
will not have this due influenceover Lincoln during his last term.
Of all political abortions the Fremont
movement has turned out
the worst. He has killed himself
out too fast. It’s all very well for
Greeley to flatter him with soft
words in order to get him entirely
out of the way, but he can never
have the confidence of the Abolitionists
as in the past.
Mary Anne is getting along
famously. Some weeks ago she went
to Boston for special treatment, and
got so much better that she was able
to spend a fortnight at the seaside,
and now she is the New Jersey Pine,
feeding on peaches! She’ll be home
soon. If she were here, she would
send love to you.
Yours, always,
Oliver JohnsonFriday, 24 Feb., 1865
My Dear Anna,
Enclosed are the results of
your Brooklyn lecture. It is not quite
what I hoped, but it is not bad for
all that. I have had some vexations delay
in making the collections, making the bills, etc.,
and was not able to wind up the affair
till last night. — I have heard but one
opinion of the lecture. Depend upon
it, you made a great hit; and the
more I think of it the more I am
inclined encourage you to
repeat the lecture at the Cooper Institute.
As that hall is often engaged
a good while in advance,
I wish you could fix at once
a time to come, lest somebody else
should be in your way.
Theodore, blessed boy, has
written a beautiful notice ofthe lecture for the next Independent,
which I will copy.
All as usual at home,
and send you love.
Yours, faithfully,
Oliver Johnson

Anna E. Dickinson’s Lecture
In Plymouth Church, Brooklyn,
Feb. 21, 1865
Receipts: — — — — $452.50
Expenses:
Rent of Church,  $75.00
Sexton — — — —   5.00
Advertising — —  35.95
Printing tickets —   8.00
Doorkeepers — —  6.00
Ticket sellers — — 4.00
Ushers — — — —  3.00
Incidentals — — — 1.25
Carriage — — — —5.20
Fare to Phil — — —3.00
$206.40
Check for balance—246.10Anti-Slavery Office,
New York, 20 April, 1865
My Dear Anna,
I am sorry not to be
able to say anything definitely when
the night of your purposed
new lecture; but the Cooper
Institute is closed,
[*Yesterday was the funeral—to-day is the State fast. All business is suspended.*]
and I can
find out nothing before to-morrow.
Honestly, I have no vision
to discover or judge what is wise
in the premises. The excitement
of the last week has utterly
exhausted me, and I hardlyfeel as if I had brains adequate
to my daily routine. In
this mood I am apprehensive
that a lecture at the time proposed
would strike the popular
feelings in a moment of weariness
and reaction from over excitement,
and so fail to attract
a large audience, especially
as the season for lectures is
now over for this year. And
yet, in spite of all my fears,
it might take finely. I was
never so doubtful before on
a question of this sort. To-morrow
I will find out if the Cooper

Hall can be had and write
you again.
Yours, ever,
Oliver JohnsonThe Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
No. 5 Beckmann St., New York.
July 6, 1865.
Dear Anna,
I see by the papers that
you are home from your
wanderings, and you may
infer what I am doing from
the place whence I date. Theodore,
Dr. Leavitt and Bowen are all
absent, and I am, for the nonce,
Captain of this ship. It is uncertain,
as yet, whether my engagement
will prove temporary or
permanent.
I hope you have been
having a good time, and gaining
knowledge and experience forfuture use. As for myself, I keep
as well as the hot weather and
constant work will allow.
I have a friend, a niece
of Miss McAdam, who is in
the autograph stage, and I
must beg you to do me the
favor of writing you name
over some brief sentiment, in
prose or verse, and sending it to
me. I believe it is the first
time I ever asked such a favor
of you; so pray be a good
girl, and comply promptly.
Mary Anne is in Ohio,
and the latest information encourages
the hope that she is getting

better. Mrs. Savin is at Providence,
I hope to see them both at home
before the end of this month.
Yours, always,
Oliver JohnsonThe Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
No. 5 Beekman St., New York.
Sept. [27] 26, 1865.
Dear Anna,
The enclosed article
from the Tribune of today is
vial, and lest it should
escape your eye, I send it
to you. Greeley has put
your case in a strong light,
and given your enemies
“[?]”.
Come to the tin wedding.
Theodore says if you
don’t come to his, he won’tgo to yours.
What day have you
substituted for Dec. 5 as
the time of your seasonal
lecture here? Let me
know, that I may the
referral right on the
books at the Cooper
Institute.
Yours,
Oliver Johnson1855. Tin Wedding 1865.
Of
Mr. & Mrs. Theodore Tilton.
Monday Evening, October 2nd, 1865 from 8 to 11 o’clk.
18 Livingston St. Brooklyn90 East 12th St.,
New York, 30 March, 1866.
Dear Anna,
Since writing you this morning,
I have been to the Cooper Institute,
and found the Hall engaged
Tuesday evening for Freedmen’s meeting,
Wednesday evening for Temperance,
and Thursday evening for Fred
Douglass. I have the refusal
of it Friday evening, the [?] for you,
and wait your order to enage
it fully. Might have had it for
Monday evening, but this is too
early (before the arrival of countryfriends), while Friday will be
later then I could wish. On the
whole, I think the last best. If
somebody else does not take the 
hall for Monday night before
I can hear from you, you
may have your choice.
Let me hear from you
at once. All here send love.
Yours,
OliverThe Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
No. 5 Beekman Street, New York.
May 14, 1866.
My Dear Puss,
     I enclose a letter, just
received through Mr. Thompson, from
his son-in-law, Mr. Frederick W.
Chesson, giving the reasons why,
in his judgement, the present is
not a favorable time for you
to go to England. I think those
reasons will impress you as
weighty if not conclusive.
     I also enclose a letter directed
to you at this office, in
the expectation, probably, that
you were coming to the anniversaries.
There is a book here also—at least I judge it to be a book
from the shape and appearance of the parcel-
which awaits your order. What
shall I do with it?
Why didn’t you come to
the Anniversaries? Were you
displeased with me that I did
not, in the face of your own
doubts, appoint a lecture for
you? In that matter I did
what I thought was for the
best, and have seen no reason
to change my opinion. But
you know, my dear Anna, that
I am always happy to serve

you, and that nothing pleases
me better than your success.
But you must come to
our Progressive Yearly Meeting on
the 7th, 8th, & 9th of June. Tilton
has engaged to go, & Garrison
& Thompson authorise me to
advertise them as “expected.”
Then I have written to Dr. Furness,
and hope he will preach
for us once or twice. You
know our friends here all
love you, and will be very
sorry if you don’t come.
Your “dear old man,”
Oliver JohnsonThe Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
No. 5 Beekman Street, New York.
May 21, 1866.
My Dear Anna,
By Theodore’s request
I enclose for your reading an
article from “Every Saturday.”
It will be sent to six or eight
women, in whose moral, intellectual
and critical judgement
he has great confidence.
He requests that you will
read it carefully, and
write to him (at your
leisure) your opinion as to
the truthfulness or untruthfulnessuntruthfulness of its statements. He
has a literary purpose to
serve by the information
which he hopes thus to elicit.
He trusts you will not regard
this request as a bore.
There is here a book
for you, from L. G. Wheeler,
Stanford, Cp. Shall I send
it to you by express?
Don’t forget the Prog.
Y. M., to be held on the 7th,
8th, 9th, & 10th of June. Go up
to Jerusalem and have a
good time.

Mary Anne is just getting
over a cold which frustrated
her for two weeks. The rest
of our folks well.
Yours, truly,
Oliver Johnson.The Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
No. 5 Beekman St., New York.
June 15, 1866.
My Dear Friend,
I have just learned
that you, with your mother,
sister and brother, are coming
to New York on Monday, on
your way eastward, and
that you propose to stay
here till Wednesday. Now,
Mrs. Savin has gone this
night to Providence, and
our house is “left [?] as
desolate.” Aunt Maria,
with the two servant girls,will be the only occupants
By day, with Miss Whiting
and myself added at
night. Carrie is at Staten
Island. Mrs. Savin bids
me say that her house
is open to your whole
party, and she will be
glad if you will come
and occupy it. As for
meals, we can promise
you nothing very fine from
Aunt Maria’s supervision,
but we will do our
best, and if there should

be a partial failure, why
the “Maison Dore” is not
far off. There’s no use,
with our good house
open, in your going to
a hotel. So, pray come,
me and all, and let
us have the pleasure of
serving you. You shall
be free as all, and go
and come as you please.
Yours, affectionately,
Oliver Johnson.The Independent.
Editorial Rooms.
No. 5 Beekman Street, New York.
Sept. 1, 1866.
My Dear Anna,
Yours of the 29th came
yesterday, and I thank you for
it, for I wanted to hear from
you and to learn how you
had passed the summer. It
is delightful to be assured
that you have been thriving
as the sea air, and that you
have body to sustain the
action to be demanded
of the intellect and the heart
in the great conflict now
opening.
As for myself, I had
a grand time in the mountains,
and am the better for
It, though suffering as nasal
at this season from corilationcorilation for the throat and nasal
passage. Mary Anne has been
getting better in the normal time.
She is now writing relatives
in the Granite State, and
will hardly be home before
October.
Mrs. Savin returned
yesterday, with Carrie &
Harry, from a trip to the
country. The old house
has been furbished up
this summer and now
looks very nice. You
must come and see it
and us.
The day you name
for a lecture here is good,
but ought you not to

come here earlier?
There’s no doubt about
the Cooper Hall, since nobody
has engaged it so long
time ahead.
How does it happen
that you are going through,
on your way home,
without giving us a call?
it’s too bad. My kindest
regards to your mother,
Susan and brother.
Your ever faithful friend,
Oliver Johnson.The Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
No. 5 Beekman Street, New York.
Sept. 11, 1866.
Dear Anna,
I argue with Theodore
in thinking you ought to
speak here in October. When
I go up town this afternoon
I will call and ask when
you can have the hall,
and write you again tomorrow.
Yours, ever,
Oliver Johnson.Independent Office,
New York, 12 Sept., 1866
Dear Anna,
I have engaged for
you the Cooper Institute for
Thursday evening, Oct. 9. Now
send me in due season,
the title of your lecture, that
I may know how to advertise
you.
Mr. Nichols has been here
for a few days, but left this
morning for the country, to
fulfil some professional engagements.
He’s is in good health
and spirits. Mrs. Johnson has left
the mountains, and is now
visiting among her relatives in
Southern New Hampshire. Sheis much better than she was last
Spring, and will be home the last of
this month. Mrs. Savin has returned
from her country jaunt,
and Miss Larned will be home
in a few days. The house has been
undergoing some repairs, which have
greatly improved its appearance.
The household all send you love.
Remember me cordially
to your mother, sister & brother,
and believe me, Anna.
Yours, always,
Oliver JohnsonThe Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
No. 5 Beekman Street, New York.
Oct. 10, 1866.
My Dear Anna,
Enclosed find check
for Two Hundred and ninety-one
40/100 ($291.40), with
statement of account. The
result is not quite what I
hoped it would be, but
I learn from this who
made careful observation
of the vacant seats (mainly
At the southern end of the
Hall, where they were least
conspicuous from the platform),
that the cash received
was undoubtedly the precise
equivalent of the number of
the audience, minus some
40 dead-heads off the platform.
That hall is alwaysoverrated, as I know from
the experience of other managers.
I we had a decent
good hall, above ground,
and in the proper location,
where the fashionable would
consent to go, I could easily
double your audiences,
and more too. Last night
you were in competition not
only with all our theatres
(now crowded nightly), but
with a half-score of political
meetings, each one of local
importance and requiring the
attention of many who would
gladly have heard you. On
the whole, therefore, and considering
the apparently impending
storm, I think you did
well. $291 is not bad pay
for an evening’s work and

the travel and expense incident
merits. Still, I wish it were a
$500 check that I am sending
you.
As for the lecture itself,
it gives one great pleasure
to say that I think it was grand
alike in matter and manner.
I am delighted to see how
you grow. You know I am
incapable, my dear Anna,
of writing or speaking on word
of flattery to you; I simply utter
what I deeply feel, for I love
to encourage you to do your
best and I rejoice in your 
every success almost as much
as if I were your father or
“elder brother.” God bless and
keep you, my dear child, and
enable you to do still better
and higher things.
Yours, always,
Oliver JohnsonThe Independent,
Editorial Rooms,
Oct. 10, 1866
Statement
Receipts: — —  $501.50
Expenses:
Hall — — —         $75.00
Advertising —        41.40
Ticket-sellers, etc. 12.50
Tickets -                   8.00
Management          50.00
Carriage-hire          23.00
                            $209.90
Check for balance $291.40
O. Johnson90 East Twelfth St.,
New York, 6 Jan., 1867
My Dear Anna,
Has it seemed strange to you that,
since the first announcement of your illness, you have
not had from me one word of affection or sympathy?
Silence under such circumstances, does seem discreditable
to myself; but, my dear child, I am sure you will
make generous allowance for me in view of the
burden of care that has fallen upon me since
Theodore left home. From the moment that I heard
of your illness until the news reached us of your
assured convalescence, you were the object
of my tenderest anxiety; and if I had seen how
I could do anything to aid you, I should have done
it eagerly and joyfully. I am delighted to hear
that you are now so far restored to health that
you are engaged to speak not many days hence
in Philadelphia, and that you are likely to find
strength to fulfil your engagements at the East.
To have been thus stopped in your prosperous
career at the West was a serious calamity, in

[*This household all send you love. You are often remembered as we
are gathered at our
meals, or playing
[?] at the Centre
[?] as one table.
Love also to your mother &
Susan.
O.J.*]a pecuniary sense; but I trust that, with
good health in the future, you will speedily recover
from it.
What shall I say of the family at no. 90? In
the first place, Mrs. Johnson is quite as well,
perhaps a little better, than she was when you were
last here. She is enduring the cold and excitement
of the winter better than I feared. Mrs. Savin, I am sorry
to say, is far from well; indeed I am seriously
anxious on her account, lest in spite of her fine natural
constitution, she should break down utterly. The Captain
came home more than two months ago, and left
only a fortnight since. Many circumstances
have conspired to fill her with anxiety and
to aggravate her load of cares. She has been
imprudent to the very verge of presumption,
in respect to her health, for three years past, to
go no further back. Now she has a fearful cough,
and other symptoms far from pleasant. She
would surely get well if she would give herself
half a chance; but when she begins to feel a little
better, she is sure to do some terribly imprudent 
thing to make herself worse again; and thus it
goes, from week to week and month to month.
She has an indomitable will, and is full of all
manner of generous impulses to work not only
for her own family but for others; and



she seems unwilling to acknowledge even to herself
that she has less strength for work than she had
formerly. It is fearful to think what a calamity her
death would be to her children and friends, and we
are all doing what we can to restrain her
from killing herself by over-exertion. Capt. Savin has
Been very unfortunate in being shipwrecked, thereby losing
a large share of his property; and this has added
greatly to Mrs. S.’s anxiety. She is seeking now to
find a lodger for her extension room to increase
her income. I fear, dear Anna, that she would be almost
displeased if she knew how freely I am speaking
to you; but you seem almost like one of our family,
so often and so familiarly have you been under our roof;
and I am sure I can depend upon your discretion 
in using the facts I have mentioned.
As for myself, I have not been so well for
years. Since the first of September I have had medical
treatment, three times a week, in the form of animal magnetism,
supplemented occasionally by the use of the
magnetic battery. I was in a bad plight when I
began, my nervous system being worn from years of too
close application to work. Asthma was getting hold of
me. I saw that I must do something, and I was
Providentially led to try animal magnetism. From
the first I began to improve, and I am stronger
than at any time within ten years. I hope, before
long, to be brought up to a condition of almost
perfect health, and to send Asthma to the dogs.
If I had not been so fortunate as to find just thetreatment I needed, I know not how I could have
endured the labor that has fallen upon me since
Theodore left.
One week ago last Friday night Mrs. Savin
brought to the house a lovely company of friends
to celebrate my birthday. The parlors were
beautifully trimmed, and the occasion was one of
great pleasure to all. I embrace a copy of a poem
that was read on the occasion, and which, I
learn, will shortly appear in the Tribune. How I wish,
dear Anna, that you [cold] could have lent the occasion
the charm of your presence.
Mrs. Tilton has almost made up her
mind to visit her husband at the West and
travel with him for a few days. She has asked
Mrs. Johnson to go over to Brooklyn and see to
the house and children in her absence, and
perhaps she will do so.
I take for granted that you will come
Feb. 19 and give your “Something to Do.” I
will do all I can for you. Oh, I almost forgot to tell
you we all (Mrs. Savin, Miss Larned, Mrs. Johnson, Carry & myself)
went up to Dr. Taylor’s on Thursday evening to their weekly
“hop,” where I met a dear friend of yours, who treated me with
sweet cordiality for your sake. It was Alice Hooker. It
was delightful to hear her talk about you. She’s a dear good
girl. I had the honor of leading her out in the “Lancers.”
Think of that, Anna! The Bishop of the Progressive Friends
and the Editors of the Independent dancing with a grand daughter
of old Dr. Beecher, and two or three persons looking on!
Arn’t the “old fellow” getting frisky?
Yours, lovingly, Oliver.128 (Old No. 90) East 12th St.,
New York, 10 May, 1867.
My Dear Anna,
I was sorely disappointed
that I did not even see your face while
you were here at the beginning of this week.
You know why I couldn’t go to the anti-slavery
meeting, and I had only heard where
you were stopping, when lo! you were gone.
But I know you would have been glad
to see me if you had only had time and
opportunity to do so. Theodore told me
you would come to the office on Thursday,
and I waited for you two hours, but in
vain. By yesterday’s World I learn that
the champions of suffrage for women
found a rough road in the anti-slavery meeting,
and that you and Mr. Foster were
pronounced out of order for introducing
the topic! The report made me laugh;
for it seems to me utterly ridiculous, to
[?] if woman has a right to theballot, and it is the duty of the anti-slavery
society to protract its existence
for the purpose of securing the ballot
to the emancipated blacks, to pretend that it
can excuse itself for not [advocating] claiming
suffrage for black women. The only
ground on which we have resisted
the President’s plan of [restriction] reconstruction is,
that it does not secure “a republican
form of government” to the rebel
states, the negro being excluded purely
from the ballot box. If this argument
is anything better than a sham,
we ought [also] to claim the ballot
for the black woman as well as the
black man. From what I hear, I
infer that upon this question there is
an open breach between W. P. and
many of his friends and admirers;
and you must forgive me if I say
that I think it “a very pretty quarrel
as it stands.”
I hear that Beecher made



a grand speech in the Equal Rights
Meeting to-day. It is a thousand
pities that the anti-slavery society
did not wind up two years ago,
and that its members did not then concentrate 
themselves harmoniously
in a new organization upon the broad ground of suffrage
for all, irrespective of sex or color.
The Equal Rights Association stands
upon the true ground, and I should
have been in it from the first if it had
not been managed in the interest of
a clique, and made a sort of bob
to Phillip’s Kite. Now that he has
virtually repudiated it, perhaps
some of his partizans will get
cured of their blind folly.
I don’t know why I have written
all of this to you, who, very likely, differ
widely from me. The fact is it wrote
itself, and therefore I let it stand.
And now I come to the only
subject for which I took up my pen,
viz: to congratulate you upon theclose of your lecturing for the present
season, and the excellent condition of
your health, for every body says you
looked splendidly; and also to remind
you of our yearly meeting on the 6th of
June, when we are to have with us
that fine-hearted friend, Robert Collyer,
of Chicago, to say nothing of other
notables hoped for. You know the spirit
in which I ask you to be with us and
of us, in our gatherings, where [all are] each one is free
to speak or to be silent. You know I
love to have you come, and that I will do
all I can to protect you from annoyance
through prying curiosity and indelicate
importunity. I hope the Lord
will send you, to give us at least the
magnetism of your presence, and incline
you to open your mouth if the spirit
gives you anything to say.
With kind remembrances to your
mother & Susan, believe me, dear Anna,
Your ever faithful friend,
Oliver Johnson.Independent Office,
New York, 5 Dec., 1867.
Dear Anna,
I see by the Philadelphia
papers that your dear brother
has passed away. I need not
say how tenderly I sympathise
with you and all the other
members of your family in
this trying hour. If I could
leave the office, I would go
to you, and be with you
to-morrow, when you will
look at his face for the
last time this side of the
spirit world. How unspeakably
previous, at sucha time, is the truth that God
is our Father, and that his
tenderness for us is only
family symbolized in the
affection of a mother for the
infant at her breach. Every
trial with which we are
visited is meant for our
good, and he is as beneficial
to us in death as in life.
Yours, lovingly,
Oliver Johnson.Independent Office,
New York, 2 Dec., 1867.
Dear Anna,
I presume this letter
will find you bereaved of the
brother you loved so well.
May God support and help
you, and all the rest of your
household, in this trying
hour.
I write to say that
the hall is engaged for next
Tuesday evening, the 10th.
Yours, lovingly,
Oliver Johnson.128 E. 12th St. (Old No. 90),
June 2, 1867
Dear Anna,
I expect to leave home with a
few friends on Wednesday on the 10 a.m.
train. We shall lunch at the restaurant 
opposite Independence Hall, and afterwards
take the 4:50 p.m. train for
Longwood. Can’t you come and lunch with
me? Should be delighted to see. Of course
you know how happy it would make
me to see your face in the meeting; but
you also know that I can’t urge you
to go unless you are inwardly drawn. I
hear that we are to have Mrs. Mott with
us. With her, and Collyer, and Chadwick,
and such other aid as we are likely to
have, we can hardly fail of a goodmeeting. But your presence would give
great pleasure to many besides
Your “old boy,”
Oliver Johnson.Independent Office,
New York, 12 May, 1868.
My Dear Anna,
It is due to candor
that I should say that after hearing
that you had been twice or three
times in New York of late, without
so much as calling to see me, your
long-time friend and agent, or
calling at the home where you had
as long been on terms of great intimacy,
as well as greatly beloved,
I could not help feeling that your
conduct was very strange, and
fearing that I had somehow, unconsciously,
given you offence. Then
came your letter from Philadelphia,which, though it did not fully explain
what had seemed to me
as very strange, yet manifested
the old feeling of friendship. But
when the tickets you promised
me in that letter failed to come
(an omission rendered doubly
strange by the fact that Mr. Tilton,
though he lives in Brooklyn, was
not forgotten), I was more puzzled
and grieved than ever. I
find it quite impossible, in view
of all the antecedent circumstances,
and of my intimacy with you
for so many years, to understand
the sudden change in your
conduct toward me. If I have
wronged or offended you in any
particular, I hope you will say
so frankly.

I recognize without hesitation
your right to employ other agents
to manage your lectures here.
It has always given me pleasure
to serve you, but I would not
have you feel under the slightest
obligation to employ me as your
manager a moment longer than
you wish to do so. I trust I
am not so small as to take
offence on such ground as this.
But the manner of your action
surprizes and puzzles me.
I am sure that, if our circumstances
had been reversed,
I could not have so acted toward
you.
Pardon me for speaking
this frankly, and at the sametime rest assured that
I shall always rejoice to hear of
your success, whether in New
York or elsewhere.
Yours, sincerely & truly,
Oliver Johnson.

Independent Office,
New York, 22 May, 1868.
My Dear Anna,
I was glad to receive
your letter of explanation, though
it leaves some things still unexplained.
Before you came to New
York with your sites to lecture,
I had heard of your being here
twice, and once at least very
near the office, without calling.
This looked very strange to me; but
if, when you did come to lecture,
you had called either here orat the house, I should have
thought nothing more about it.
I think you will agree with me
[that], considering our long intimacy,
I had some reason to
feel hurt.
As to Mr. Rosenberg,
I never saw him, or had any
communication whatever from
him; and I should not know
him now if he were before
me. Nor did I receive any
messages, written or oral, from
anybody connected with your
lecture at Steinway Hall, except
the letter from yourself. Of
course, many people come to me

with inquiries about it and
yourself, supposing that I was
still your manager; but I
would only disclaim all connection
with the matter. A
four tickets came to Mr. Tilton,
directed to him in his own
name—not to the Independent—
[but] & not one to me. In such
circumstances we all (at our
house) felt that there was something
very mysterious in your
conduct, even if you did not
mean to cut us dead. We
had known you so long and been
on terms of such intimacy, that we
were wholly at a loss to account
for your conduct without imposingimposing that you had undergone
some change of feeling toward
us. Mr. Nichols was with us at
the time, and not less pained and 
mystified than the rest. Of course
we were not in the mood of going
to your lecture, and I’m sure you
can’t wonder at it.
     But it is wholly impossible for
me to cherish any unkind feelings toward
you. I could not do that even
if I knew you cared less for me as
a friend than you once did; still
less can I do it after your explanation.
    I hope you will meet me at
Longwood. I fear I can’t see you on
my way thither, as I shall only have in
West Philadelphia the time between the arrival
there of the train leaving New York (June 3d)
at 12 o’clock, and the [tr] departure of the
afternoon train for Chester Pa. If you can meet me
I shall be glad. Yours, ever,
Oliver Johnson.128 East Twelfth St.,
New York, 30 Sept., 1868.
My Dear Friend,
I must send you a
word of congratulations upon the
success of your book. Since not
one in twenty of all who seek
fame as writers ever succeed,
in winning it, you will not think
it strange if I frankly confess that
I opened your book with some
anxiety. I brought the advance
sheets at once to the house,
and have read the whole to
our assembled family, every
one of whom hoped and
prayed, in advance, that youhad achieved a grand success.
It gives one sincere pleasure
to tell you that our best anticipations
were more than realized.
My audience listened to every
page with eager interest and
with frequent and hearty applause,
in which no one
joined more earnestly than
myself. Having rejoiced at
every advancing step in your
career as a lecturer, I congratulate
you now that your
name will hereafter stand in
the list of successful American
writers. You had a high
and noble purpose—a grand
and earnest word to speak,
and you have spoken it
worthily. The book is a
powerful blow at the



Satanic spirit of Caste, and
is creditable alike to your
head and heart. I hope
it will have a large sale
and “put money in your
purse;” and then I hope
that you will have health
and strength to do something
still better. If I do not always
agree with you in opinion, I
none the less heartily rejoice in
your growing fame, and
bid you God-speed.
Mrs. Johnson is in Vineland,
growing fat on grapes.
She will go to Longwood, probably
next week for a short visit.
I have sent a copy of your
book to Dinah Mendenhall,
knowing how eager she would
be to see it. She and M. A. will
read it together.With kindest regards for
your mother and sister,
Yours, faithfully,
Oliver Johnson.Independent Office,
April 6, 1870
My Dear Anna,
I am very sorry I was
not at home last evening to use
your pass. The fact is that
when no tickets came, I concluded
to fulfil a duty to a beloved niece
far up town, and so had gone
before you arrived. I am sorry
the weather was so unpropitious,
& your manager so neglectful; but 
I congratulate you upon the
impression your lecture appearsto have made. I did think it
strange that no tickets came,
but your call removes all
"unpleasantness" felt on that account.
Indeed I knew the 
neglect was no fault of yours,
and if the purchase of tickets
would have "put money in thy
purse" instead of Pugh’s, I 
would have bought them,
for I wanted to hear you.
Yours, ever,
Oliver Johnson.128 East 12th St.,
New York, Jan. 1 1871.
My Dear Anna,
Your note from Pittston,
so unexpected, was very welcome.
To confess the truth, it touched me
deeply. I do love my friends, and to
hear from them in a crisis like that
through which I am passing is a great joy.
I was not obliged to leave
the Independent, for Mr. Bowen
would not have removed me;
but I felt sure that in his secret
heart he would like to put an
orthodox man in my place. Besides,
I was apprehensive thatI should be less free under the
new than I had been under the
old chief.
What may be my place
on the Tribune I hardly know,
but I hope it will be pleasant.
I was sorry not to be
able to hear you when you were
here last; but I was too tired
and miserable to leave the house.
I will hope for better luck next
time.
Our house is now more
crammed than in any former
year, the back parlor and extension
room being occupied by Mrs.
Kate B. Yale and her two noble
sons. Mrs. Yale once lived at
Philadelphia, and is a friend of the
Motts. She is one of the grandest
women I ever knew, and thinks


much of you. We enjoy [our] her society
highly. Mrs. Savin is much as usual.
Mrs. Johnson joins me in
wishing you and all in your
house a happy new year.
Your faithful friend,
Oliver Johnson.128 East 12th St.,
Jan. 29, 1871.
My Dear Anna,
Your letter of the 24th was a 
relief to me, for really I was afraid
you might misapprehend the reasons
for my course in regard to your lecture.
All that I said about my inability
to undertake any work out of the
office was more than tone; and yet
I really wanted to aid you.  My instinct,
from the start, was against your
plan, and the more I thought of it
the more unwise did it seem.  I
could not see any ground, save one,
for believing that you would have
an audience, and I thought youcould not afford to fail.  The chance
for an audience seemed to me to
be identical with the chance for a
mob; and my impression was and
is, that the Sun, and other dirty papers, immediately upon the 
advertisement of your purpose, would 
have stirred up the diabolism of
the crowd that cheered McFarland
for his crime. If our Police were in 
Republican hands as it was during
the war, we might hope to win a victory
over the Devils; but with that under
the control of Tammany, they could break
up any meeting obnoxious to themselves.
In view of all the circumstances, I could 
not advise you to go ahead, and in
consulting others, I found no one
who did not agree with me.
Mary Anne is better than
when you saw her, and joins
me in messages of love to mother

and Susan, and in the affectionateness
and confidence with which I subscribe
myself.
Your friend,
Oliver Johnson.128 E. 12th St.,
New York, Nov. 17, 1871
My Dear Friend,
Your “little pull” at my sleeve
was wholly effective, operating upon the brain
and nerves like a gentle shock from an
electric battery, and setting in play a
[whole] long procession of pleasant memories.
That for some years past you have given
me such “little pulls” but very, very rarely,
has indeed been cause [for] of regret, but [not] [has]
not of alienation. When, in 1865, you seemed
to my wife and myself to have averted
from us your loving, trustful face, I will
not deny that we were deeply pained;
but we did not lose faith in you, for we
well knew the spell that had fallen upon
you, and we were [perc] perfectly sure
that at bottom you were still your own

[*Reform demagogery will not win, but victory will perch at last upon your
fawners. I am at the end of my sheet, and I close with saying that we are
getting along well—that life
for us has many “sunny
patches.” Mary Anne
sends you love, and I am
Faithfully yours,
Oliver Johnson.*]dear self, and that in your heart of hearts
you recognized us, and would always recognize us, as your friends, faithful
alike in sunshine and in storm. Do not think,
dear Anna, that I make this allusion to the
past to reproach you or pain you; far, far
from it. It is only because we could not otherwise
be true to ourselves. From you, so far,
as these matters are concerned, we ask nothing,
for we do not accuse you in our hearts, or
require you to justify yourself. We have
always believed in you, in spite of what annoyed
and troubled us, and thoroughly respected
your right of independent judgement.
Having loved you so warmly, it did
make us sad to see you turn confidingly to 
one who, in his intercourse with me, had
been false and faithless, and sought, for
reasons wholly selfish, to tarnish my good
name. We said to ourselves, in quiet confidence,
“One of these days, the dear girl
will be disenchanted, and will learn that
the old love is better than the new.” When

we looked into your face lately in Steinway Hall,
and heard your brave lecture, we felt that all
that had been painful in the past was removed,
and that henceforth we should stand upon our
old footing. We were glad to see that with maturity
of years had come a larger wisdom, and
that you were no longer a girl, but a brave,
fully developed woman. Thus had you justified
our early faith in you, and our
prophecies as to your future. We have watched
your career from the very beginning with an
interest that could hardly have been deeper or more
sincere if you had been our own daughter;
and now it is a pure joy to congratulate
you upon your success. You are now one of
the accepted teachers of the nation, and your
utterances have great influence upon the public
mind. I must think it creditable to your
courage that you ventured to challenge
the principles and schemes of the Labor Reformers,
and to expose the demagogism of
some of their leaders. Among those who havelistened to you in past years, your present
position may not be popular; but your independence
will command the public respect,
and ere long your views will be generally
accepted. The men who get up and manage
Labor Reform Conventions are neither Laborers
nor the representatives of Laborers, but demagogues
[agongogues] who flatter themselves that they can
ride into office by exciting the poor against
the rich. As for the “silver tongued orator,” his impudence
is sublime. With a good fortune, inherited
from his father, and still more received
from his wife, all of which he has nursed
with genuine Yankee shrewdness and thrift,
and not in any degree impaired by superabundant
charity, on what ground has he the right to arraign
as sinners the men who, beginning their lives in poverty,
have made great fortunes by their great genius
for business? Why has not A. T. Stewart as good
a right to the dividends accruing from his
large estate as I have to those accruing from [to]
my small one? Depend upon it, this Labor



128 East Twelfth St.,
New York, March 8, 1872.
My Dear Friend,
Your very cordial letter, dated
at Corning, 5th inst., was received yesterday,
and I take the first opportunity
to reply. You need not make any apology
for calling me “dear old boy,” the salutation,
so far as the second adjective is concerned,
being true to fact, while the first adjective
and the noun together have a very
pleasant signification, when spoken or
written by you. I am glad to have inspired
in you the freedom, and, may I
not say the affection, that prompts such
a salutation. Your “paw,” even as a metaphor,
is something that I like to grasp;
though art quite equal to an actual contact
with the digital member itself, especially
when supplemented by a look into yourfriendly eyes and the hearing of your
familiar voice. So, here’s a hearty shake
for you, my old friend, and may
your shadow ne'er grow less!
I am glad to have a place
all my own in your thoughts, and to
live as a reality in your memory.
If among all your troops of friends, there
is one who takes a more genuine pride
and pleasure in your success than I
do, I must think you fortunate; and if
there is one among them all more just or
generous than myself, you are to be congratulated.
For, indeed, my dear Anna,
since the day we first met, when you were
as yet uncertain of your future, I have
felt the deepest interest in your welfare,
and have rejoiced in your every success
as  not only a fulfilment of your
own hopes but a vindication of my own
foresight; for the result has been only



what I expected. If a shadow did for
a moment fall between us, the sunshine
now is all the sweeter.
You ask about my work in The
Tribune, as compared with that on The Independent.
I answer, it is very different,
and on the whole less exhaustive. Making a
newspaper out of raw material is a
very different thing from making one out
of the already edited contents of a great
daily journal. The latter, if in a certain
sense, “hack-work,” is much the easiest of
the two to an old hand like myself.
Each Semi-Weekly I make out of the three
preceding Dailies, and the Weekly out of
the two preceding Semi-Weeklies. I do not
sit up o’nights with the Semies, or get up
for them at any unusual morning hour;
but on Wednesday morning, when the Weekly
goes to press, my alarm-clock wakes me
a little after one o’clock, when I dress andtake a Third Avenue car for the office. The
object of this is to get the very latest news
into the Weekly, or confirmed in the Daily of
that morning. To discriminate between what
should go in to the Weekly and the Semi-Weekly
and what may be omitted requires
a trained judgement, and often involves no
little responsibility. For the Editorial page
of the Semi, for instance, I have to select the best
things from the same page of three
Dailies, and for the Weekly the best of six.
Then there are stories and other
miscellaneous reading that do not go into
the daily at all, and that I must select.
For three days in the week my
task is hard enough; on the other three
it is much lighter. On the whole, I think,
I am less likely to overtax myself than I was
in the Independent; but on the other hand
the intellectual stimulus and satisfaction
is somewhat less. Mr. Greeley has been

very well satisfied with my work thus far,
and on his motion my salary was raised
at the beginning of this year. Mr. Reid’s course
on the Woman question hurts me because
it seems to me unjust in itself and injurious
to the paper. He and I have had
some “bouts” on the subject which have
been less pleasant than I could have
desired; but I hope that time will correct
this evil.
You ask about Theodore. He has
been at the West for some three or four
weeks, and during that time I have not
heard anything directly from him. His wife
is with him, and I hope they are doing
something to remove the unpleasant impressions
that preceded them. If he will
only let the Woodhull tribe alone, and
address himself conscientiously and
faithfully to the task of making his
paper what it should be, I think hehe will rise triumphant over all his
troubles. His course during the past
year has been reckless and foolhardy
(so it it seems to me) to an extent
that seems perfectly incredible. But
for this his paper would now, in
my judgement, be a perfect success;
as it is, I fear it will have a hard
struggle for life. As for Theodore my
fears are great, but my hopes for him
are greater. I have done what I could
to dissuade him from what seem to me
his follies, but, though he often tells me that
no one has such influence over him
as I have, it seems to me sometimes
as if I speak my breath for nought.
I cannot, I will not, give him up, for
at bottom I am sure he is noble, and
I cannot bear to think that genius
like his should go to ruin. My heart
yearns for him with more than a

brother’s love, and I should be so happy to
see him taking once more his right place
in the world.
Mary Anne, you will be sorry to lean,
has been quite ill for a month, and though
mending now, is yet quite feeble. Her trouble
is something quite different from anything
that she has had before, and we hardly
know what it means. She sends you her
warmest love and blessing.
Of course I should like to
hear a “political hoot” from you very
much; but probably Mr. Reid, who is
more in the political field than I am,
can better judge as to the wisdom of
such an appearance. I do not see,
why your chance for a hearing
would not be good.
Yours, as of old,
Oliver Johnson.P.S. I forgot, before ending my letter,
to tell you of an effort I recently made
to keep off the wrinkles and make [j]
jolly. The “Sorosis,” having determined on
some theatricals for an evening’s amusement,
beset me to take the part of
“Henry Primrose” in the play of “Popping
the Question.” It was my “first appearance
on any stage,” but, considering
my youthfulness and inexperience,
they do say I made a “hit,” and
some of the compliments I received
almost made me suspect that in making
myself an editor I had spoiled
an actor! Wish you could have been
there to see. Now, remember me when
you become a “star” actress; your brilliancy,
set against the [Head] background of my awkwardness
and dullness, would be splendid.
Selah!128 East 12th St.,
New York, July 5, 1872.
My Dear Anna,
Your letter, received this morning,
is inexpressibly sweet and comporting,
and I hasten to thank you for it. The
terms in which you express your loving
appreciation of my dear wife give me
exquisite pleasure. In praising her, you
console me; for, strange as it may seem,
I am comported most when I think how
great is my love. For almost 40 years
we have lived together in the sweetest,
tenderest, and purest of all human
relations; and, of course, two lives thus
blended cannot be surrendered without
pain to the survivor. “The flesh will
quiver when the pincers tear.” And
yet, the dominant feeling in my breast
is a profound thankfulness that she was
spared to me for so long a time, and
that 40 years of a happy life arecrowded with memories of her. Few men
are ever more [blessed] blest in their wives than
I was in her. Her fine moral intentions, her
unwavering devotion, and her rare judgement
opened to me resources that were unfailing,
in whatever emergency. When she had
breathed her last, my first feeling was one of
exultation and joy, on her account; but
soon came the sharp, piercing sense of
irreparable loss, and a loneliness that
is simply indescribable. As I sit now
in the room consecrated by her death,
where every object that meets my eye reminds
me inevitably of her, what a tide
of emotions sweeps over me! How broken
and how bereft is my life! Ah, my
dear Anna, how I wish you were near
me, that I might sometimes sit down at
your side, your hand in mine, and talk
with you about her, and about the home
to which she has gone, and whither we
hope to follow in God’s good time! I am
sure that such opportunities would be good
for me, and you at least would
have the comfort of knowing that you



were giving [comfort] consolation to a sore and stricken
heart. Think of me sometimes, my friend,
and let your pen speak the sympathy
that fills your generous heart. I want
a place in the thoughts and affection of
all the women that knew and loved her, and
among them all few knew her better or loved
her more truly than yourself.
You will be interested in learning
that, after death, the face of my dear one
lost every trace of the suffering she had
endured, assuming an expression so
calm, so pure, so angelic, that her friends
lingered over it in surprise at the transformation.
She looked like a woman
of 35, asleep and dreaming a blissful
dream, rather than like one who, having
completed her more than threescore
years, had fallen a victim to a most
painful disease. Great as is my
loss, I would not call her back to
the scenes of earth, but seek rather to
win from my bereavement the lesson
it was intended to convey, and to prepare
myself to follow her in due time.The report of the funeral services
is in press, and within a day or
two I hope to mail you a copy. It
seemed to me to be due to her memory
that the report should at least be
printed for private circulation.
Frothingham and Garrison spoke well,
and the few words of Lucretia Mott
were a benediction; but the most felicitous
address was that of our dear 
Theodore.
I was disappointed that you did
not come to the Yearly Meeting, which was
one of the best we ever held. Mrs.
Livermore proved herself a host, and
as delightful in private as she was
powerful in public. What a splendid
woman she is!
Give my love to your mother
and sister, and believe me, dear Anna,
Yours, affectionately,
Oliver Johnson.



128 E. 12th St.
New York, July 28 1872
My Dear Anna,
Yours of the 23d reached me
just as I was leaving the city, to which
I returned last night. I have something
to say in regard to your entering
the campaign for Greely, but I
would much rather say it
face to face than write it in a
letter. I have half a reason for
going to Philadelphia already,
and if I learn that you are
to be at home on Friday morning,
I think I will go and see you.
My plan would be to go to Phil.
on Thursday evening, reaching there
at some time from 7 to 9. Ishould go to the Bingham house,
and if it should be too late to see
you Thursday evening, I would
call Friday morning. Please let
me know at once if you are
to be at home, and if a call
from me at the time named
would be agreeable.
I am very sorry to hear
of your dear mother’s illness;
hope she is better ere this.
Yours,
O.J.
[*[Oliver Johnson]*]128 E. 12th St.,
New York, Aug. 27, 1872.
My Dear Anna,
I found your letter from
Swampscott yesterday, on my return
from Long Branch, where I spent
the Sunday with—you can guess
whom—the grandest woman of 
those sandy shores. Didn’t your
ears tingle a little on that Sunday?
I have already written a “Personal,”
embodying what you want said in
relation to lecture arguments and
the new book. It will make its
first appearance in the Weekly
to-morrow, after that in Daily and
Semi.
I am in a fearful hurry
with work and preparations for myfortnight’s vacation, which begins
on Friday. I am going to my
native hills in dear old Vermont,
and from Springfield North am
to have the company (on Friday)
of Mrs. Bullard and Mrs. Moulton.
Wont that be jolly? If you get to
Littleton by the end of next week, I
may see you there for a day, but
can’t promise.
No time to say more, sure
that you are a darling, and that
I am, as ever,
Your attached friend,
Oliver Johnson.New York,
Sunday Eve, Oct. 20,
1872.
Dear Anna,
The Cooper Union folks, after
an eloquent (!) apology from me, “caved
in,” and said they would not exact
any money of you on account of your
engagement of the Hall. The enclosed
receipt will show what I did with
your $45.00.
At this moment I don’t know
the results of the effort to give you a
call for next Friday evening. On Saturday
Mr. Sinclair told me progress had
been made, and he hoped to have
things fixed to advertise to-morrow
morning. To save time, I wrote a letter
of acceptance for you, to be printed
as yours if the thing goes. It is in fewwords, less felicitous, perhaps, than you
would have need, but committing you
to nothing but a simple consent to
speak, and giving the title of your
lecture, “Is the War ended?” The plan
is to put the tickets at 50 cts., sell
what can be sold, and give the rest
away, and raise by subscription something
for you. I can’t be responsible
for the management of the affair,
but hope it will not be botched,
or made to worry you in any
way.
Yours, ever,
Oliver Johnson.8. 22. 74

Dear Oliver, - its all 
right about the papers
-- Reid will send 'em
to me.
How is all this 
going to affect Plymouth
Church & the Union?
I confess that I am 
more interested in the 
fate of the paper for
your sake than foranybody else's--because
as well as I know 
you have a very 
pleasant & satisfactory
place there.--Don't
condemn me for that.
For God's sake
why hasn't Mr. B
more courage.--If he
had fought at the 
outset the whole
thing would have
flown away into air.
Innocent or guilty
any man had



better fight than
temporize.--He has
been over cautious of
 a great fame, & has
ruined his treasure
by the means he has
taken to preserve it.
Am I harsh?  -- It is
only because I am 
fairly enraged at the 
harm he has done
himself.--The beings
who have assailed 
him could have
made little headway
if he had shown
a clinched fist to
begin with. -- Enough— So you are
going away with the
wife & baby. - My
best regards to them.
Peace & prosperity go
with you.
faithfully yours
Anna E. Dickinson
1326 Arch St. Phila.

Oliver JohnsonEDITORIAL ROOMS of the CHRISTIAN UNION,
No. 27 PARK PLACE,
HENRY WARD BEECHER, Editor.
J.B. FORD & Co., Publishers.
New York, Aug. 17, 1874
Strictly Confidential
Dear Friend,
The Weeklies have not yet had
time to comment upon the scandal in
the light of Mr. Beecher’s Statement.
They will do so this week. Of those
published here I can easily obtain
extra copies for you; but I am under
instructions to keep for our
own use the comments of our
exchanges, and of those not published
in New York I cannot well
undertake to find duplicates. If
I were not going away before
it would be possible for you
to return them. I might send2
you our copies; as it is, I don’t
dare to risk it. But perhaps
the N.Y. Weeklies are mainly
what you want, and those I
will send.
Mr. Beecher does not read
the papers. He hears quite enough
without that. In spite of it all
he is remarkably cheerful; he does
not weigh less by one once, nor is
his hair a bit whiter, on account of
the ordeal through which he has
passed. I used to think T.T.
had a case, bot now I believe
it has been a conspiracy from the
start. Even if B. should fall, it
would not lift T.T. from the pit
into which he has plunged headlong.
If I thought Mr. B. guilty,

3
I should still hold his accuser infamous.
Having, according to his
own story, condoned and forgiven
the offense, whatever it was, and
promised his word that he would
forever keep it secret from the
world, his promise was sacred
just in proportion to the injury
that would be done by its violation.
He has played a game of
treachery, perfidy and fully that is
without parallel. To gratify his
malignity toward Beecher, he
has dragged his wife and
children before the world to
befoul their names, and necessitated
revelations respecting
himself that stamp him with
infamy, and which, but for hisEDITORIAL ROOMS of the CHRISTIAN UNION,
No. 27 PARK PLACE,
HENRY WARD BEECHER, Editor.
J.B. FORD & Co., Publishers.
New York,                          187
4
own reckless wickedness, his
true friends would gladly have
concealed. I have warned him,
again and again, of the inevitable
consequences that would
follow his attempt to ruin B.,
and pictured to his conscience
the sacredness of the obligations
he had voluntarily assumed.
He withdrew from me and
from all sensible advisers,
and took counsel only of those who
administered to his vanity and inflamed
his passions.
There could be nothing more
outrageously false than the pretense
that Mr. B. furnished him provocation

5
provocation for his treachery. Mr. B. was
always kind, always glad of opportunities
to help him; and this attitude
on his part subjected him to
worse suspicion than everything
else put together. T.T. was always demanding
something of B. that he
could not do without compromising
himself. He was always
seeking to force him to do some
act that could afterwards be interpreted
as a confession of guilt.
He complained of what Dr. Bacon
wrote, and yet he knew that the
accused had no power over that
caustic pen, which he had himself
set going by his repeated acts of
treachery in dribbling the scandal
to Dr. Storrs and others, thus
bringing about the ecclesiasticalEDITORIAL ROOMS of the CHRISTIAN UNION,

No. 27 PARK PLACE,
HENRY WARD BEECHER,Editor}
J.B. FORD & CO., Publishers}

New York,..................187


6
council. Mr. B. did nothing but to
hold his tongue, taking with such
patience as he could the fruit of
T.T.’s perfidy. T.T. seems to me
both the fool and the knave of the
century. I say this without heat,
just as I would say a cabbage
is a cabbage, a spade a spade.
Yours, as ever,
Oliver Johnson.
Wife & baby well. Going to
Vermont & N. H. With them within
a week. Never got [your] a letter of
congratulation from you.81 Columbia Heights,
                                       Brooklyn, Sept. 18, 1888
Dear Anna Dickinson,
                              I am very glad
to be able to send you what
Governor Hammond of South
Carolina said in the United 
States Senate, in April, 1858,
as follows:

             "In all social systems
there must be a class to do the
mean duties, to perform the
drudgery of life -  that is, a
class requiring but a low order
of intellect and but little
skill.  Its requisites are vigor,
docility, fidelity.  Such a 
class constitutes the very 
mudsills of society and of political 
government .... We use
them for the purpose andcall them slaves ... I will not
characterise that class at the
North with that term, but
you have it - it is there, and 
it is everywhere, it is eternal...
In short, your whole class of
manual laborers and operatives, 
as you call them
are slaves."
          Wendell P. Garrison,
who found the passage
from the Alabama paper,
found this also in the Liberator
files, which he is searching
for materials for his father's
biography.
              Yours. faithfully,
                      Oliver Johnson