There, side by side with speculations
on the eastern question, and conjectures with regard to the secret and
revealed will of the Emperor of Russia, news from her majesty's most
sacred retreat at Osborne, and the last debates in Parliament, comes
my brown silk dress! The Times has omitted the color; I had a great
mind to send him word about that. But you may tell the girls--for
probably the news will spread through the American papers--that it is
the brown Chinese silk which they put into my trunk, unmade, when I
was too ill to sit up and be fitted.
Mr. Times wants to know if Mrs. Stowe is aware what sort of a place
her dress is being made in, and there is a letter from a dressmaker's
apprentice stating that it is being made up piecemeal, in the most
shockingly distressed dens of London, by poor, miserable white slaves,
worse treated than the plantation slaves of America.
Now, Mrs. Stowe did not know any thing of this, but simply gave the
silk into the hands of a friend, and was in due time waited on in her
own apartment by a very respectable woman, who offered to make the
dress; and lo, this is the result! Since the publication of this
piece, I have received earnest missives, from various parts of the
country, begging me to interfere, hoping that I was not going to
patronize the white slavery of England, and that I would employ my
talents equally against oppression under every form.
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