by a mortal tongue, to its rapturous emotions as it ascended through the ethereal blue to the abode of eternal bliss. There, it is firmly believed, she has found an everlasting rest in the bosom of her God, where she will feel no more sorrow, no more pain, where the only thought that made death bitter. that of her children is turned into joy by beholding how completely they are in the hands of that Being who does no wrong, and bereaves and afflicts his poor creatures for some good and benevolent end.

Her mortal remains were carried to Jefferson County, where they were buried beside her dear father, whom, in her sickness, she once said she should" see shortly." Before her interment, an excellent discourse by the Rev. Mr. Holman had spread comfort in the hearts of her relations and friends.

CHAPTER X.

THE light in Mr. Kendall's household had gone out. A dark shadow clouded the bright visions of his youth and opening manhood. A widower with four small children, he deliberately forecasts the future. Self-reliant, resolute, and always hopeful, he determines to devote himself more assiduously than ever to his editorial duties.

National and State politics, education, morality, and religion constituted fields in which his mind delighted to range. His lucid and terse style, his cogent reasoning, and his exhaustive arguments, attracted attention, and soon won for their author a national reputation. Few journalists have so suddenly become famous. His appeals were to the intellect; he sought to convince men by force of argument. He always had a powerful ally in the consciousness that he was laboring in the cause of truth and right. Resting on high moral principle, incapable of suppressing the truth, fearless in the exposure of duplicity or falsehood, he was able to do valiant service in whatever cause he engaged in. Rarely descending to the use of blackguardism in his paper, he employed ridicule and satire as frequent weapons, but handled them with wise discrimination.

Engaged as he often was in acrimonious controversy,—for in those days Kentucky politics were of an aggressive and personal nature, compelled to pass most of his time in his editorial sanctum, annoyed with pecuniary claims, physically weak, and anxious for the education of his children, he felt keenly the want of that sympathy and domestic happiness which for five years had been

his.

Mr. Kendall's second marriage took place on the 5th of January, 1826, when he led to the altar Miss Jane Kyle, a lady twenty

years his junior, whose parents then resided in Georgetown, Kentucky.

The sun again shone upon his household. However boisterous the outer world might be, at his hearthstone all was peace. No important change occurred in his domestic affairs till after the election of General Jackson in 1828.

As a correspondent, Mr. Kendall had few equals. Frank and honest in expression, mindful of the minutest details, choice in the use of words, he invested his epistolary style with grace and vigor hardly surpassed by the most eminent classical writers. It is doubtful if finer specimens of letter writing adorn the pages of English literature, even in its golden age, than the products of his ready pen.

Subjoined are a few letters written to his second wife:

TO HIS WIFE.

CLEVELAND, OHIO, October 25, 1827.
We have had rain

MY DEAR WIFE, I am here weather-bound. more or less for five days successively. Last Sunday was the first of it. That day I rode twenty-nine miles; on Monday came twenty-two; on Tuesday, twelve; yesterday I travelled forty. I have been wet several times, though not very much. Yet I have taken no cold, and am in excellent health.

The distance I had to travel is much greater than I supposed. According to my memorandum of distances, I have travelled three hundred and seventy-three miles, and it is upwards of six hundred from this place to my father's. The whole distance is not less than one thousand miles. Of course the time taken to travel it is much greater than I calculated. I have now been from home nearly two weeks, and it will take about three more to reach my father's. This will carry me to the middle of November. Then, if I stay with my parents two weeks, it will be the last week of November before I shall start back. Then, if I spend a week in Washington, it will be about Christmas before I can see you. The time I have been from you seems long already; but what will it be before I get back? I am sorry I took the children to their grandmother to stay until I come back, for I did not wish to trouble her so long with the care of them; I wish they were with you.

Be sure to write to me and let me know all about yourself. Do not distress yourself about me at all, for travelling makes me more healthy than the still life I lead at home. Since the second day after I started, I have not been the least unwell, and I think I look much better. I

have been looking at the lake this morning. It has been so rough for five days that no steamboat or anything else runs upon it. The wind blew almost a hurricane last night. It has much fallen; but the waves are nearly as high as ever. I went to the top of a hill, just at the water's edge, whence I could see, I suppose, thirty or forty miles up and down and directly in front, and there the lake seemed to meet the clouds. The whole was covered with foaming waves, tossing and roaring like a terrible storm in the woods. Below where I stood there was a beach of sand upon which the waves dashed up two or three rods. Some distance above, the shore appears to be perpendicular, and as the waves strike it they throw their foam ten or fifteen feet high. I then went down to the water's edge and amused myself with looking at the billows dashing up to my very feet. By to-morrow the lake will doubtless be calm, and then I shall start in a few hours for Buffalo.

Give my love to your mother and Elizabeth. You shall hear from me again as soon as I reach my father's, if not before. Probably I may write you again from Albany. I hope on this trip to do something which will be very beneficial to me hereafter. I cannot bear to be embarrassed in money matters, and if I can by any honest means extricate myself I shall not fail to do it.

TROY, N. Y., November 7, 1827.

DEAR JANE, You will perceive by this letter that I am yet in the land of the living, though not at the end of my journey. I wrote to you from Cleveland, Ohio, and I wrote to Mr. Johnston from Rochester, in this State, so that you already know that I came safely down the lake. I know not what day my letter to you was dated; but it was about ten o'clock on Sunday, the 27th October, that I went on board the schooner "Eclipse" for Buffalo, having been detained in Cleveland almost three days. The weather was still stormy, but the wind was fair, and we sailed, during the rest of that day, at the rate of ten miles an hour. The night was extremely dark, and the wind blew hard, with occasional rain, so that we were obliged to take in a part of our sail lest we should run upon some island coast in the darkness. In the morning there was an island right ahead, not far from the Canada shore. The wind blew harder than ever, and our vessel tossed up and down ten or fifteen feet upon every wave. I should have been alarmed, but I watched the captain and crew, and not perceiving that they were in the least moved I concluded there was no danger. They tacked ship and

stood out into the lake. It now began to rain so hard that I was obliged to quit the deck, where I had remained most of the time during daylight to avoid being sea-sick. I had not been long in the cabin when I began to get sick. As the day advanced the weather became more calm, and we landed at Buffalo about two o'clock on Monday, having sailed upwards of two hundred miles in little more than a day.

From Buffalo it was about twenty miles to the Falls of Niagara, and I intended to take the stage and visit them; but my sea-sickness had made me feel so disagreeably, and the weather was still so bad, that I determined to go on board the canal-boat and make the best of my way to Albany. I left Buffalo about dark on Monday the 28th of October, and arrived at Albany, a distance of three hundred and sixty-three miles, on Monday night last the 5th of November. This is the most comfortable way of travelling in the world. There is in the boats a small cabin with windows, benches, and chairs, in which about twenty persons may sit very comfortably, warmed in cold weather by a small stove. They sleep at night in berths hung up by the sides of the cabin, which will contain twelve persons. If there be more passengers, they sleep on the floor. The berths are hard and not very comfortable. The boat moves so gently that you cannot tell, as you sit or lie in the cabin, that it moves at all, unless you look out. We travelled about fifty miles in twenty-four hours; but the packet-boats, which carry nothing but passengers, travel seventy miles. I had pleasant company and a most agreeable passage, except that I had a terrible sick-headache one day, of which I was well the next.

On inquiry yesterday, I was told that my brother George had removed from Greenbush to Troy, which is six miles above Albany, and I came here in the stage. But on inquiry here I am told he has removed to Catskill, which is forty miles below Albany. If I were sure of finding him there I would go down; but my information is somewhat uncertain. I am in this difficulty by not finding any letter from my father in Albany.

TO HIS WIFE.

DUNSTABLE, November 15, 1827.

MY DEAR JANE, At last I have reached my father's house in health and safety. I have found my father and mother, brothers, and other relatives all well, but so altered by time that there are few of them whom I should now have known.

I wrote you, I believe, from Troy, N. Y. From that place I went to Albany, and after a day spent there went on board a steamboat for the city of New York. I arrived there, a distance of one hundred and fifty miles, in twelve hours. I found there an old classmate, and a gentle