Freedom lives hence, and banishment is here. Shakespeare.
Have stooped my neck under your injuries, eating the bitter bread of banishment. Shakespeare.
The letter referred to and similar correspondence follow:
THE WAIL OF AN ACHING HEART
Glen Echo, Maryland,
January 13, 1904.
My dear Mr. Young:
It is a blessing to your friends that you have a good memory. Otherwise, how should you have carried the recollection of poor me, all these weary months running into years and, through friends all unknown to me, sent such tribute of respect.
I waited, after receiving the notices from you, to be sure of the arrival. I have directed the acknowledgement to be made to Mr. and Mrs. Canfield, but words tell so little; you will, I am sure, thank them for me.
You will never know how many times I have thought of you, in this last, hard and dreadful year to me. I cannot tell you, I must not, and yet I must. So much of the time, under all the persecution it has seemed to me I could not remain in the country, and have sought the range of the world for some place among strangers and out of the way of people and mails—and longed for some one to point out a quiet place in some other land; my thoughts have fled to you, who would at least tell me a road to take, outside of America, and who would ask of the authorities of Mexico if a woman who could not live in her own country might find a home, or a resting place, in theirs.