Last Years. ^yj 



Brooklyn, November 2, 1882. 



My dear Youmans: All of Saturday is free to Mr. 

 Spencer. I will ride with him, talk with him, be silent with 

 him, eat with him, or do anything except commit suicide 

 with him. 



We dine at one o'clock. If he will, he shall have oysters 

 or lobsters, beef or mutton, game or fish, or all of them; 

 tea, coffee, or wine — and if the latter, I will give him better 

 port than New York can produce; or he shall have Madeira 

 or sherry or claret or champagne ; or if the British blood 

 calls for beer, he shall have that — English ale, brown stout 

 of the finest, German beer, lager beer; and such is my wish 

 to please him that I will even give him cold water. He shall 

 have all these, or, if he prefer, he shall not have any of them. 

 If I had had him in Peekskill yesterday he would have seen 

 such a glory of colour as would have made him exclaim, 

 '' This is the gate of heaven ! " 



I have a complete set of his works, and he may read 

 them if he likes, though I have several bushels of old ser- 

 mons which might edify him, perhaps, more. 



Of course you are expected to come also, and, unless on 

 a doctor's prescription, you will not be expected to take any 

 intoxicating beverage ! Faithfully yours, 



Henry Ward Beecher. 



p, S. — November 3d, at your office. I learn that Spencer 

 is on his back at Newport. That ends it. All viands and 

 all wines are banished, and strict asceticism resumes its 

 sway. 



The winter of i882-'83 I spent in London and Law 

 much of Spencer, whose health was then too poor for 

 him to do much work. We were beginning to feel 

 anxious about Youmans's health, as appears in the fol- 

 lowing letter: 

 17 



