Miss Delemere, theatrical dress-maker and one of the salt of the earth, motherly to me, woke me to say that since day-break there had {been} a mob forming in the street and it was now very large and growing turbulent; that a bushel of letters had been taken in for me, &c. and, “would I excuse her for calling me.” She was really frightened.

That was the way the news came to me of the action of the Park Commission the night before. And I asked myself:- “How can I get hold of Waring? He is the only man I can depend upon.”

Do you remember the bigger mob—That is the word—before the Wagstaff house; the militia at the Arsenal with howitzers; the old Yorkville judge standing in a wagon, holding up a rope and pointing to a limb over head and shouting as I passed: “necessity knows no law?”

Do you remember the first gang that you set at work and the first [888]man to whom you offered a spade saying: “If John Clancey thinks he is going to pay me off in this way he is damnably mistaken.” Do you remember that half the gang failed to appear at roll-call next morning? And all that. Do you remember?

You must know your real enemy and how tremendous his strength is. Can you go down with your flag flying? Dare I hope any greater success for you? If you can even do this for a few months, (keep your flag up) you will deserve better of your country than any other man of the time. I have been confidentially informed by a great expert that it is impossible to do anything except by astute manipulation of patronage. Oh! if you can but demonstrate that he is mistaken how well you will deserve of the republic!

My Dear Waring, I know the difficulties of the position better than most of your friends. It is a forlorn hope. You can only deserve success, and it is not {profitable} success that is most {important.} I am {gratefully} Yours