I have been in a wearing state of perplexity for eight or ten days, now, never knowing quite knowing whether I might venture to write you I was coming or not. However Ⓐemendation This was all on account of the President’s condition. But on Sunday the news was so good, & so very promising for the future that I judged everything was safe; so I wrote a telegram saying I was coming, & then finished loading myself up with my speech. We are away up here on a mountain-top, some miles from the town. I sent down my telegram in the morning, & away it went; but not by telegraph; for it was found that the wires do not reach to Ashfield. I ordered a sleeping-section for Albany in to-night’s train, & made other preparations. And then, of course bad news began to come from Washington again; so bad, indeed, & so utterly hopeless, that we began to look, hourly, for the President’s death. This house, like all others in the land, became a house of mourning. The idea of making a light & nonsensical speech to possibly appear in print in the midst of columns of heartbreak walled in from top to bottom with the black bars of mourning for the head of the nation, was appalling. I had to annul my program—there was no other way. And besides, if this dreary uncertainty continued, even though the President still lived, I knew I should have no heart to talk nonsense, or nor the people to listen to it. And for me to appear there in Ashfield & conform myself to the sorrowful circumstances, with a speech framed in unison with them, would have added a simply be to add the one pang more than the people could bear,—I just felt that.

So I sent that second dispatch down, last night, begging you to let me remain absent—with orders to date it this morning & send it unless the news from Washington should be very good & reassuring—which it was not, so they sent it along without inquiring further of me. I hope it reached you; I did my very best; for I ordered that it be sent as near to you as the telegraph could carry it, & then be hurried the rest of the way by private messenger on a swift horse. I sent it by way of Hartford because I knew the Western Union people there would do their level best in the matter.

This world is a world of perplexities. Supposing I was going to Ashfield, I made some business appointments in Hartford & Boston, which I shouldn’t otherwise have made; & I have got to keep them, I suppose, whether or no.

I hope you & Mr. Curtis will try to forgive me; for I never would have failed of my promise for what I deemed an insufficient reason, I do assure you.