Rosine Amé-Draz to Frederick Douglass, March 24, 1864

Bournemouth

Hampshire

March 24^th/ 64

My very dear Friend Your kind letter enclosing the dear Carte—which I had so long wished for, came safely to cheer me in this—my new abode—I thank you, with my heart's best thanks, for these new tokens of your affectionate kindness I need not say that both the letter and the dear portrait have been my comfort since I am here among strangers—in a strange place, where I know no one. And am unknown to all. Your words, my beloved friend—are always words of consolation and of encouragement to me—and your counsels as ever, very sacred & highly valued

I like the portrait very much—You are not at all altered my dear friend. I only perceive deeper shades of sorrow on that dear face from which I pray God soon to efface all traces of grief and care. This is my earnest fervent prayer whenever I look at it. I thank you for the previous words which make the Carte doubly dear. With this treasure ever with me—near me—known alone to me—I cannot be unhappy.

I have been here nearly two months. Mr Coote is a kind—liberal man, who hates slavery and every kind of oppression. I hope this is a great cause of thankfulness to me—

Dear Friend—I expect no rest. I look for no home upon Earth. Labor, cares—trials, have been my lot since I can remember. The clouds which have overshadowed my life from the very beginning seem to become more threatening as I travel on but I do not dread them as formerly. You have taught me to weather the storm of life—by your own noble example. The thought that my life has some resemblance with yours, beloved friend, often makes me happy in the midst of tribulation. I like to tread the same path you are treading. I would not have a resting place where those I love have none.

When happiness and rest shall be your portion. I shall be thankful and satisfied—whatever may be my own circumstances. I know all that is going on in America—Miss Wigham kindly sends me the Principia I am so disappointed not to find your own dear words of power in its columns. M^rs. Carpenter has sent me the number of the Tribune with your lecture on the Mission of the War—Oh that I could sometimes hear your voice! I think of the thousands who have daily that privilege. How I should prize it. Were it only once in the year! But I must not dwell on my privations—it would only embitter my lot. Since it is God's will that I should be alone oh so alone! Separated from that most dearly beloved by me—I must bow under the decree! I am endeavoring not to feel too much settled here—as it seems I am called to be a pilgrim here—in the true sense of the word. I must ever be ready to remove my tent—painful as I find it whenever called to do so.

I still cherish the hope that I may end my days among your dear people—though I cannot see how it can be brought to pass—How much God has done for them. My beloved friend since we were at dear Wincobank together! They are nearly saved. Nearly across the Sea—The Lord will bring them safely

through the wilderness and into the land of promise and Liberty—Oh how your people will bless and love you—Millions will bless your name, your memory will be honored and precious revered by generations to come—What an abundant harvest of love the highest, purest love of deepest gratitude from freed hearts is in reserve for you here—besides the rich reward the God of the oppressed shall bestow upon you in that world where dwelleth justice!—I love to contemplate this your sure portion. Oh how happy I shall be in your happiness!—

Dear friend I am trying to interest people in for I shall not be hated as I have been in Plymouth—on account of my sympathy for the oppressed—Yet I begin to see that mine will not be a path without thorns here—As usual with English children brought up at home those are excessively difficult to manage—Oh! You have no idea, dear friend, how intensely miserable these English girls—so amiable and gentle to Society can and do make their teachers—no affection—no patience—no desire to make them happy. on the part of their Governess—seems to touch their hearts.

They see her alone in the family far away from her friends

from her country. They know that their parents will ever be ready to listen to their tales and complaints—and of course ever willing to believe them faultless. They are also quite sure that if they desire it their parents will dismiss the teacher, who does not quite suit them—Therefore they become young tyrants in the school room—How many of my poor young compatriots have had their hearts broken in this country—God only knows but we all have dear ones at home, dependent on us—this makes us bear much which otherwise would be insupportable

From April— T. Cootes Esq^r. Fen Stanton S^t. Ives Hunts

God bless you my very dear friend Yours for ever affectionately & devotedly.

R. Amé Draz