The national era. [volume] (Washington [D.C.]) 1847-1860, 1856-09-04
MIR. SUMMERS HEALTH.
.spondence of the New York Tribune.

SwIssvALE, august %, 1856.
With many thousands of Mr. Summers friends
in Western Pennsylvania, have long resisted
the spirit which impes US all to seek his presence
and offer tributes of respect; but it has beer
almost beyond human endurance to read the
| reports that are constantly circulated about him
His friends have been informing us that " 6
gentleman of our acquaintance" has visited Mr.
Sumner, and found him so and So" Then
ga celebrated physician of Philadelphia" ha.
said 80 and so. Next, "a well-known clergy
man" of somewhere, has been with him, and
thinks thus and so. One time he has been con
valescent, and will be about in a couple o.
weeks and next, there is great danger of his
intellect being forever extinguished. All this
sounded mysteriously, and the enemies of the
freedom of Congressional debate have taken
advantage of this mystery, to spread the impress
sion that there was some juggling about it
that he was made to appear ill for political
| effect. brutal attack upon him in the HoUi-
ddysburg Standard revealed the fact that he
was receiving visitors who were far from being
friends, and I resolved to 60 at once and see
what it all meant.
found him at the private residence of DR..
Jackson, whom, With his amable wife, / have
for some years claimed as personal friends
and remained with them two days, to find out
the secret of the conflicting accounts Of his
health. The Rev. Mr.. Furness, of Philadelphia,
is staying with him he has been his compan.
ion a greater part of the time since he left
Washington. He consulted DR.. Wistar, of Phil
adel phia, who gave it as his opinion that there
was serious danger of chronic congestion of
the brain, and recommended Cape May. He
went there, and returned to Phhiladephia moth
ing better, when DR.. Wistar insisted upon AL
lsghany Mountain air; and, wishing to avoid
the publicity of hotel, he took lodgings at DR..
Jackson's private residence. The Doctor is 8
Democrat and most accomplished surgeon, and
says he thinks there is blood now settled or
congested in the vessels of the mem Drane which
lines the brain-pan, but that with plenty of
mountain air, generous diet, and exercise it
will be gradually absorbed, and he be restored
to his full vigor.
For the two days was there, watched Mr.
Sumner closely, bringing to bear upon his case
thirty years experience of frequent and
sometimes long periods of nursing the sick,
and think there is ample room for the worst ap-
prehensions of his friends. He rides on horse
back, over the toughest mountain paths, twelve
Or fourteen miles day, and returns with a
good appetite for dinner but walk of q GUAR
to this injury, he was considered the best pedes
was only pleasant exercise to him.
He has all the impotence of ordinary men
in Illness, or in the prospect of restraint, and
assures everybody that he is doing very well,
feels very well, is quite strong, and will sure
ly be able to 90 to Washington in two weeks
Mr. Burlingame assures me, with tears in his
eyes, that this is what he always said. Ever
since his injury, he has been going to be quite
well in two weeks; but when he rises from his
chair, he takes hold of the table. His gait, at
first glance, appears that of a man of ninety
years of age; but, watching him while, ] felt
that it was the very kind of step one takes
when creeping through darkened chamber,
under the influence of paroxysm of nervous
headache; but he says, with kind of lofty, in
credulous scorn, that his head does not ache |
Sometimes he feels q pressure on the top of his
head, and it appears to hurt him when he walks !;
but he will be ready to 60 to Washington in
two weeks
1t is remarkable fact, that never saw a
sick man who was not either going to die iii
half an hour, or would not be ready to go to
Washington in two weeks.
Mr.. Burlingame came on Friday evening,
about six o'clock, in company with gentle
man and lady from Philadelphia. He had not
before seen Mr.. Sumner since the Brooks chal-
lenge, and we all sat together until after eleven
o'clock-there was SO much to be told said,
and explained. Without any personal resem-
blance, these two appeared together like father
and son; but could give no idea of their in
terview, even so much of it as the sacredness
of private conversation would permit to be
made public, in less than a column; and Mr..
Summer crowds everything from my thoughts
Just now. When his friends left, he had no
disposition to retire, and when he did, slept
but one hour. Next morning his pulse was
very rapid, but he took his usual morning ride
in company with Mr.. Burlingame, the Doctor,
and the ladies of the party who wished to 60.
They returned in great flow of spirits, and
after dinner the Senator from Massachusetts
was formally expelled from the library, by
vote of the house. He retired, but did not
sleep. BY a strong effort, denied myself the
qualification of spending Sabbath with him,
and came home in the night train, feeling very
sadly. ! tried to induce him to come down to
Swissvale, where the air is scarcely less pure,
and the scenery finer than on the mountains,
and where he would be as nearly out of the
world as he could well be, while near q railroad
and telegraph; but he Things he must 20 in
the other direction-the direction of his duties,
to Washington, to settle his affairs there, and
then to the stump, to labor in the campaign.
For the issue, the fearful issue, Freedom has
no advocate to spare He is resting now, and
will soon be strong-enioying idleness, refrain
ing from all intellectual labor, and recruiting
so fast. He only reads and writes about ten
letters a day, laying his hand every few mo-
ments, while absorbed at his desk, upon the
top of his head-creeping, with his unsteady