Marshfield, July 23, 1851.
MY DEAR SIR, — I
thank you for giving me an opportunity of reading Kossuth's warm-hearted and
admirable letter.
Having despatched
Mr. Benjamin late last evening, I rose quite early this morning and went out
upon the sea. The day has been delicious, and the sea air seems to give me new
life and strength. I ate more dinner on board the boat (cold salted beef and
bread) than I have eaten any day since I left Capon Springs. Fishing for cod,
haddock, and halibut is a common and coarse amusement, which the connoisseurs
in angling reject. I like it, however, as it gives me occupation while we are
out for the benefit of the air and the ocean. I caught thirty codfish to-day,
weighing from eight to twelve pounds each, and as the boatmen were also
fortunate we brought home a fare which astonished our neighbors. They
represented fish as very scarce at this season, as they retire in hot weather
into deep water. I told them that I thought I should know where to look for
fish.
I never saw
Marshfield look so well as it does now; the crops are heavy, the lawns and
pastures perfectly green, and the trees remarkably bright and glossy. There are
several hundred thousands of trees here, which I have raised myself from the
seeds; they are all arranged in avenues, copses, groves, long rows by the roads
and fences, and some of them make beautiful and impenetrable thickets on hills
which were mere sand hills when I came here. The herds and flocks are in fine
order. Llamas from Peru feed in the pastures with the sheep. We have a little
fresh-water lake, which is frequented not only by the ordinary ducks and geese,
but by beautiful Canada geese or wild geese, which breed in retired places, but
will always join their kindred in their emigrations, spring and fall, unless
their wings are kept cropped. We have also China geese, India geese, and in
short, the same birds from almost every quarter of the world. As to the poultry
yard, there is no end to the varieties which my man has collected. I do not keep
the run of half the names and breeds.
The situation of
this place is rather peculiar. Back of us, inland, rises a large forest, in
which one may hide himself, and find as odorous an atmosphere as among the
pines of Maine. In front of us, a mile distant, is the sea, every mast visible
over the beach bank, and all vessels visible, hulls as well as masts, from the
chambers of the house. A drive of one mile and a half, almost entirely over my
own farm, brings us to what is called Duxbury beach, a breadth of clean, white,
hard sand, seven miles long, which forms at low water a favorite ride or drive
in hot weather.
These, my dear Sir,
are all trifles, and of course without much interest to any one but myself;
but, I confess, that to me Marshfield is a charming place; perhaps one reason
is that so many things about it which now appear handsome, are the result of my
own attention. I sometimes try to read here, but can never get on, from a
desire to be out of doors.
In. truth, I read
nothing but my correspondence, and such official papers as it is my duty to
peruse. I have found time to prepare the despatch to Mr. Severance,
commissioner at the Sandwich Islands, and also a private letter of
instructions.
When I left Boston
yesterday, Mr. Allen was reported to be better, but there is no probability of
his being able to return to his post for some time. When I say that the papers
are prepared, I ought to have said that there remains in them one hiatus, to
fill which I must wait for a paper from Washington. My dear Sir, you must have
much leisure as well as patience, if you can get through this letter.
SOURCE: Fletcher
Webster, Editor, The Private Correspondence of Daniel Webster, Vol.
2, pp. 452-4
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