Your dispatch of July 26th reached me on the 22nd August as follows:

“You are chosen General Secretary American Freedmen’s Aid Union salary seven thousand (7,000) Bellows and Godkin advising answer.”

The line was not working through for sometime afterwards and when its business was resumed was occupied several days with accumulated dispatches. Under these circumstances, being then in San Francisco, I thought it best to wait until the arrival from Bear Valley of my letters by the following steamer’s mail, before replying. On the 30th having heard nothing further from you, I telegraphed as follows: “I decline.”

I have today received your favor of July 27th.

None I think can estimate at a higher value, the honor and the opportunity, to a competent man, of usefulness presented in the office you offer me. But I do not think that its duties should be undertaken without strong and inspiring confidence of a good acquittal of the responsibility involved, and I do not think myself able to engage in them with this confidence. For this and for other reasons, unnecessary to be enumerated, I feel compelled to decline the very generous proposition of the Union.

I regret exceedingly that the interruption of the telegraph will have occasioned so long a suspense of final action in regard to the office.

A proposition from the Editor of the Nation is associated with that of the Union. I regard the promise of the Nation as one of the happiest signs of the increased disposition to think thoroughly, calmly, fairly and courageously to which our countrymen have been brought by the Slaveholders Rebellion. Its influence in giving practical coherence to the convictions of thoughtful but busy men, is already perceptable even in California. The enterprise commands my highest interest, respect, and confidence and I shall be most happy if I can serve it in any manner.

I have just recevd yours of the 9th and am exceedingly sorry to hear of yr disappointment.

I take it the most important fact in your condition is this: that you have a diseased nervous impulse to activity of the brain. This grew out of a prolonged excessive demand upon your brain & nervous power. It amounts to a habit of mental intemperance. You have a pleasure in this excessive action and are constantly under temptation to indulge yourself in it. Your cure is to come by reversing the conditions in which it originated as much as possible, and leaving your “constitution” fair play to work it off. That is, besides reversing mental conditions; avoiding temptation &c, you want to give your digestive apparatus &c every advantage. All this you can see plainly enough. But the disease affects your will, also, and you are under constant temptation to reason falsely—fallaciously—upon the detail of the conditions; to pretend to yourself that you are resting, when you are indulging your intemperate proclivity: that you are trying to rest, when you are really trying to beat the devil round the stump. You are under temptation also to underrate the strength of the disease, and the radicalness of the remedies required for it.

All the above is my preface and intended to prepare you to admit that if you don’t see your recent experience as I do, it may be oweing to your disease.

My wife and I have talked about you a good deal & had, before your letter came, agreed that you were hugging a snare & delusion if you [441]supposed that such a journey as you made across the continent; in such company; in such haste, with such diet; with such regular irregularity; with constant recall to the very subjects (and their sequelae) upon which your brain has been hardest set for years, having no leisure & even writing editorial letters; scarcely ever able to yield even to such feeble inclination to rest and leisure & tranquility as your diseased will is yet capable of—& all that you know when you think of it better than we do—I say it was a snare and delusion if you made yourself think you were pursuing a remedy for your disease. And if you did cheat yourself with this notion, of course you must suffer for it. And if you are not a good deal worse for so disappointing yourself you may thank your stars that you have at least proved yourself to have a good strong constitution, which, given fair play, under really favorable circumstances, will be likely to bring you back to a good average working condition in a few years.

About the will & the self—deception—do you remember how Leech died? His physician insisted that he shouldn’t work. He wanted to make a cartoon for Punch and persuaded himself & his physician that it would be an amusement to him—merely a little recreation—no work & an hour of this amusement (really indulging the weakest & most overworked part of his brain) carried him past the point where recovery was possible & so he died.

I know this is just my case, and I suspect it is yours. If I was in your place, I know that I could get over it. But mine? Oh! you don’t know. Perhaps you could get right in my place easy enough though I don’t believe it. But I do know that I ought to be sent to an inebriate Asylum—and I do try to treat myself a little as a drunkard ought to treat himself. But the moment I find myself getting on pretty well—gaining or where I think myself gaining or likely to gain—I prove my weakness, by discounting my prospects. Don’t you?

What I mean is, it seems to me you’ve no ground to be disheartened except you find you are not disheartened. You must repent before you can be converted. And unless you are worse for this little deceptive self indulgent travelling cure, you may as well make up your mind that your disease is a very mild one, & so take heart.—See it?

Thanks for your suggestions about Califra domestic architecture—I will think of the project. But don’t you know the architects never have done anything in the line you refer to. The architect’s education seems to unfit him for anything of that sort just as a theological training unfits a man to be a pastor. What you say Cala wants seems to me quite as much wanted everywhere else. The prettiest houses I have ever seen are old fashioned low-roofed, verandahd, cottages, repaired and extended with some elegance of detail and neatness and fitness of supporting circumstances, the new work carefully toned down, & half covered with mystifying foliage.—An effect which can’t be put on paper or clearly and [442] exactly planned out—& which an architect, therefore, whose business it is to be exact & complete—to see exactly what is before him,—is incapable of enjoying in imagination. Thus architects can’t lead but must follow the requirements of the people—like Statesmen, lawyers and editors. If two men could actually be incorporated & work as one—Vaux & I might do it.

I have heard nothing of consequence from New York since you left. We [are] nearly through with our packing & expect to move to San F.°, in course of a week, & to take steamer on the 13th or 18th Octr.

Please give my kind & grateful regards to Mr Allen.