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DEAR FRIEND: -- Days and weeks have sped onward, each bringing its panacea of health and strength to aid the development of reason's power, yet in the Asylum of life I am a prisoner. Freedom will never be enjoyed till the age of gold is renewed to man, of which poets sing and philosophers reason. It is coming; its foretaste is given now, when we suffer patiently in our lot, and woman's lot "is patient smiles to wear in suffering's hour." Then comes help divine to the perfect work, glittering pinions hover around her; yes, and they bear her martyr spirit to its free home. But the martyr crown can never be won, unless we enter the battle-field of life. The soul, miring higher than nature's realm, proves its immoral birth and destiny. Then let her spirit soar and watch its opportunity to rise.

Our homespun adage is, "God helps those who help themselves," and many witness its truth in these halls, for whom pathways have opened in the dark wilderness, and dreams have flowed in the desert. Aids are proffered here on every hand. Reason is invited to take its place. Imagination is wooed and won from fantastic flights in airy regions, to enter the arena of the understanding, and with the speed of its swift coursers carry on the work of every-day life.

A few in these halls are so well fitted to the traces that the door is open for them in life out of Asylum. Among them, I am permitted, this evening, to join the crowd jostling into Mechanics' Hall to hear Henry Ward Beecher. It is a name of strength and strife, and has called out expectation. The house is so full we can scarce find a seat. The orator appears -- a fine form and physiognomy. His theme, this evening, is "Patriotism." Its element was found in home, and home was no ideal -- it was a substantial house, on a lot of land, which was paid for and stocked with all things necessary to a family living honorably and virtuously. This family was the source of good government, and formed the land qualification for voting. This was good ground, and invited my confidence in the orator. It was a common-sense view of man which I had not expected from one deemed a fanatic. I was well pleased to hear the race classed from the arena of a home lot into one brotherhood.

My home -- my country next --
And next, all human kind.

To this does the heart expand, which is nurtured where patient industry and steady habits have gathered a little store for the culture and perpetuation of a household. It is the reward due to industry, and it is the heritage of a just man. Reason, with its clear, calm tone, speaks from the voice of such, and in their councils the sovereignty of God is exalted among the nations. Thus far I knelt to the truth which flowed, as from a fount divine, from the lips of the orator. His graphic delineation of home-life touched a chord in every heart. He spoke to that which is Godlike in man, and he made one weep with the deep pathos of his own heart's tender flow, when from the land of strangers, whither he had travelled to gather lore and see the pride of art across the broad Atlantic, he turned to lift again the latch of his father's door, in old Connecticut. There he had enjoyed boyish pranks in the school-house -- in the meeting-house had sat with other Yankee boys, now figuring as men in the broad States, spreading their eagle banners onward to the Pacific coast, colonizing a family with homes, These earnest truths were followed by dangerous errors, proving the orator was still in the quicksands. He pointed to errors in the social system which all acknowledge. He would remove them, but not in the good old way. He would make our clergymen politicians. He ridiculed them in terms I will not repeat. I do not like to hear our teachers of heavenly wisdom degraded before the public wind. They are men of like passions as ourselves. Their vocation in this land calls for great self-denial. Set apart to sow seed divine, they may not enter the arena of political strife. But they inculcate principles which are manifessed in the secular concerns of life. They reach the legislative hall - the judge's bench. The understanding based on facts of eternal life is best fitted to judge in facts of temporal life. The government of earth should be in strict alliance with the government of heaven. But it is not so when selfish men are seeking selfish ends, and patriotism is but a name to cover deceit and fraud. We do need more Washingtons and mothers like Martha Washington, to sway our councils by the principles of a well governed home. I would not see a woman go to the polls, but I would have her spirit preside there. Already its influence is felt through fathers and sons, husbands and brothers, whose hearts have been trained by good principles to give good judgment.

This subject has been amply discussed this morning after the lecture. It was the topic of the breakfast-table. You see the life of the world is brought within our cloister hall. The few who have emerged therefrom, like summer bees, have brought back honey to the hive. The women are wide awake to the discussion of their rights to-day, and ably are the arguments pro and con canvassed. My good neighbor, Mrs. B., will not dismiss the question of a woman's vote. "If she has property, why not ?" Many names of note in the female world have wisely proved there is an exception to every rule -- and proved, what we all know, that woman has capacity for whatever the occasion calls for. It is this versatility of her nature which enables her to twine around the firm mind of man and bend him to her will. It seems as if from the beginning man and woman were formed to grace different spheres.