Rosine Amé-Draz to Frederick Douglass, July 5, 1864

Fenstanton

n^r. St. Ives

Hunts

July 5^th /64

My very dear Friend

Your welcome letter of the 1^st of June reached me safely. I thank you for it. You were well. You exist God be praised. I was very anxious fearing you might be ill, or gone to the Wars—Oh if you cannot write, My dear friend, let dear Rosa send me a few lines. A little oftener just to tell me how you are I should be so grateful to her I cannot help being anxious when months elapse without tidings of you—I know how you labor night and day—How little you care for yourself. I fear

you neglect your health. And that at last you will sink under the heavy burdens you are perpetualy bearing. Your faith and patience are tried indeed! How long you have to wait for the day of deliverance! Oh! I know how disheartened how perplexed you must feel at times! God only whose chosen instrument you are—for the breaking of your people's chains can sustain you—and give you strength to survive the deep trials through which you have been passing of late! Dear, dear friend - take courage you will not be disappointed Sorrow may endure for a night, but

joy shall come in the morning. Oh that I could be near you—hear you—to share your troubles and anything to serve you as a sister together with your wife and daughter! I know it cannot be. You have always said so- and I believe all you say. I completely confide in you and all your counsels are sacred to me—It is my joy and consolation to act according to them. Each and all are treasured up in my heart. I do not murmur at being separated from friends dearer to me than life. Yet I cannot help wishing that I might be near those I love. I cannot tell you all I would but you know that I long most

earnestly to be of some use to you. You know how happy it would make me. As it is, I can not give you all the affection and sympathy of which my heart is capable.

In a few days I shall go to Switzerland but only for a short time. I think I shall be there about five weeks. I must be back in England on the 23^rd of August. My poor old father will be very unhappy to see me return so soon. These people for whom I have worked very hard during the last six months seem to grudge me even these few weeks of rest—They did not wish me to have any vacation! Yet they would not bear even six months separation from their own children.

I have been thinking so much of your sons. Could they not come over here? To Glasgow, or Newcastle where you have so many friends—they would surely find plenty of employment. Those who love you in this country would of course delight in helping them. Oh that I had a house where they could come at once—and be cared for! I do wish they would come—do you not think it would be well to try? In Scotland there is more real sympathy for the North than in England. Yet here there are some who are true hearted still It is most grievous to see how much sympathy there exists for those execrable Slaveholders