NAWSA GENERAL CORRESPONDENCE Glazier, W.B. Hallowell Maine May 19. 1854 My dear friend. If I supposed that among the many that have known you longer who have a thousand claims upon your memory where I have but one I have been thought of as neglectful of promises or forgetful of you I should make excuses. But I think I know you well enough to know that excuses must be distasteful -- they are mere sophisms and always were. Shall it not be enough that on this wet dreary morning to whose utter wretchedness no term is Saxen and strong enough to be applied the only pleasant thing I could think of was writing you. So, already there is some sunlight. For the pleasant memories of the pleasant time when you were here beleaguer my heart and fill it with the hottest summer and the purest air. You will not I know think me insincere or bold if I speak simply as I think. Shall I tell you what impressions you left on one heart at least, none but those the farthest away from worldly vexations and selfish care. My life is in the world, my profession is a heart hardening one and it is very seldom that I get one of the charmed ring and think wholly and solely of Love and Faith and the better things of Life and Nature. But when I knew you, when I saw the example of your perfect life, when I felt the earnestness of your faithful soul, when I knew the true and sacred purpose which dwelt with you by night and by day - the crust upon my heart was broken and I felt as I might have felt years ago when there was no world beyond a mothers arms or the walls of home. And whenever your name is mentioned or whenever the thought of you arrives in my soul, I feel the same pleasant emotion, left by the knowledge of one whom I faithfully believe to be so good, so catholic in affection, so pure as you. Of course you would not have expected that all your peculiar tenets could at once grapple hold of the conviction of one whose life had been so far away from them as mine. I will not discuss them here & now. I can say though that no human being ever appealed so forcibly to my beliefs & mind as you did in a thousand ways. I can say that my ideas of the mission, the aim, the position of woman are completely reversed since I knew and heard you - perhaps they would have been before if I had ever thought upon the matter. But somewhere in the far future I hope to speak with you more upon these things. I have watched your course about the land, as gleams of it came to me through the brief paragraphs of newspapers, and it has been very pleasant to me to know that everywhere you have been successful, I might say charming. Yes - charming - not perhaps as we apply the word were most frequently, but in casting a spell a glamour over all hearts and eyes. The last witch was not burnt in England or hung at Salem. Those that you know here - the Lincolns, and my own family & friends are all well and happy and would join in a thousand kind and loving wishes and remembrances to you if they knew I was writing to you. They never tire of speaking of you and that too in the warmest and fondest terms. And no day would be dearer than the one which should bring you here again. Then you could see this land in its summer vestments; exceedingly green and beautiful. Then there should be pulled for you the blackest or reddest of cherries as you chose - the fairest roses. "The coming musk-rose full of dewy wine the murmurous haunt of flies on summer eves." And let me say what their lines urge me to say. Read of a summers noon in some shaded place Keats’ Ode to a Nightingale - so delicate and sweet. As for me, I have been going around steadily in the mill. I was up late last night writing & preparing papers and my eyes are dim and my brain dizzy this morning. If it were only sunny out of my dingy office - but I see nothing but falling raindrops and a leaden sky, with the tawny turbid swollen river running by. The great rains, and the great masses of snow melting have kept the Kennebec in a perfect fever for weeks, making it behave in a riotous and unseemly manner. Then - do you remember our Spirit-Rapping Talk, and the demonstrations. In performing at our home we were unfortunate enough to break my mothers best pier table which has stopped all such innovations there. I trust & hope that you will visit us this summer. It is no meaningless wish. I need but say how delighted and pleased I shall be to get an acknowledgement of this poor letter which bears with it the warmest & truest regards of Your faithful friend W. B. Glazier Miss Lucy Stone W. B. Glazier W. B. Glazier to Lucy Stone Hallowell, Maine, May 19, 1854 My dear Friend. If I supposed that among the many that have known you longer and have a thousand claims upon your memory, when I have but one, I have been thought of as neglectful of promises, or forgetful of you I would make excuses. But I think I know you well enough to know that excuses must be distasteful, -- they are mere sophisms and always were. Shall it not be enough that on this wet dreary morning, to whose utter wretchedness no term is Saxon and strong enough to be applied. The only pleasant thing I could think of was -- writing you. So, already there is some sunlight. For the pleasant memories of the pleasant time when you were here [?beleagner?] my heart and fill it with the softest summer and the purest air. You will not, I know, think me insincere or bold if I speak simply as I think. Shall I tell you what impressions you left on one heart at least. None but those the farthest away from worldly vexations and selfish care. My life is in the world. My profession is a heart-hardening one and it is very seldom that I get out of the chained ring and think wholly and solely of love and Faith and the better things of life and Nature. But when I knew you, when I saw the example of your perfect life, when I felt the earnestness of your faithful soul, when I knew the true and sacred purpose which dwelt with you by night and by day -- the crust upon my heart was broken and I felt as I might have felt years ago, when there was no world beyond a mother's arms or the walls of Home. And whenever your name is mentioned, or whenever the thought of you arises in my soul, I feel the same pleasant emotion, left by the knowledge of one whom I faithfully believe to be so good, so catholic in affection, so pure as you. Of course you could not have expected that all your peculiar tenets could at once grapple hold of the conviction of one whose life has been so far away from them as mine. I will not discuss them here and now. I can say though that no human being ever appealed so forcibly to my belief, and never as you did in a thousand ways. I can say that my ideas of the mission, the aim, the position of women are completely reversed since I knew and heard you, -- perhaps they would have been before if I have ever thought upon the matter. But somewhere in the far Future I hope to speak with you more upon these things. I have watched your course about the land, as gleams of it came to me through the brief paragraphs of newspapers, and it has been very pleasant to me to know that everywhere you have been successful, I might say charming. Yes, charming, not perhaps as we apply the word most frequently, but in casting a spell, a glamour over all hearts and eyes. The last witch was not burned in England or hung in Salem. Those that you know here -- the Lincolns, and my own family and friends are all well and happy and would join in a thousand kind and loving wishes and remembrances to you, if they knew I was writing to you. They never tire of speaking of you, and that too, in the warmest and fondest terms. And no day would be dearer than the one which should bring you here again. Then you could see this land in its Summer vestments, exceedingly green and beautiful. There then should be pulled for you the blackest or reddest of cherries as you chose, -- the fairest roses. "The coming musk-rose full of dewy wine The numerous haunt of this on summer eves." Now let me say what these lines urge me to say. Read of a summer's noon in some shaded place Keats' "Ode to a Nightingale" - so delicate and sweet, before me. I have been going around steadily in the mill. I was up late last night writing and preparing papers and my eyes are dim and my brain dizzy this morning. If it were only sunny out of my dingy office, -- but I see nothing but falling rain-drops and a leaden sky, with the tawny turbid stream running by. The great rains, and the great masses of snow melting have kept the Kennebec in a perfect fever for weeks, making it behave in a riotous and unseemly manner. There -- do you remember our Spirit Rapping Talk, and the demonstrations. In performing at our home we were unfortunate enough to break my mother's best pier table which has stopped all such innovations there. I trust and hope that you will visit us this Summer. It is no meaningless wish, I need not say how delighted and pleased I shall be to get an acknowledgment of this poor letter which bears with it the warmest and truest regards of Your faithful friend W. B. Glazier. Transcribed and reviewed by contributors participating in the By The People project at crowd.loc.gov.