It was our pleasure and privilege, during our recent visit to Massachusetts, to pass a day and a night in "Uncle Tom's Cabin," at Andover. The house is known through the town by this designation. It was only necessary to inquire at the railroad station for "Uncle Tom's Cabin," to be at once directed to the door of Mrs. Stowe's dwelling—an edifice, by the way, bearing little resemblance to slave cabins, as we have seen them, either in the size, in the materials of which it was constructed, in the character of its architecture, or the style of its furniture; but it is just such a dwelling, in all these particulars, as befits the exalted genius which it shelters.

  The house is plain, large and substantial—built of solid granite, of sombre hue, and looks as if it might abide the blasts of ages. The site on which the dwelling stands is well chosen, fronting, as it does, the college buildings, and the beautiful public square, which is filled with trees, and must, in summer, be a charming spot.

  We have seen it when it was thronged with the youthful flowers of New England orthodoxy; young gentlemen sent hither to the school of the puritan prophets, to fathom the mysterious depths of the theology of their fathers.

  As we looked on "Uncle Tom's Cabin," and the grand old college, we could not help thinking that the cabin would, in history, outshine the college, illustrious though the latter may be. Already, the dazzling fame of "the Cabin" has transcended, and thrown into shade that of the college. The name of its occupant is known among nations, whose men of learning have not heard of Andover. How happens this? Here is the explanation. The word of Mrs. Stowe is addressed to the soul of universal humanity. That word, bounded by no national lines, despises the limits of Sectarian sympathy, and thrills the universal heart. God bless her for that word! The slave in his chains shall hear it gladly, and the slave-holder shall hear it; both shall rejoice in it, and by its light and love learn lessons of liberty and brotherhood.

  Our reception, at the Cabin, by Mr. and Mrs. Stowe, was free from all ostentation; and, though kindly, very quietly managed. No high sounding phrases of welcome to cover the lack of cordiality. Dr. Stowe himself was quite unwell, and the excellent authoress had to be master as well as mistress, of ceremonies, which, by the way, not being very complicated, cost very little effort.

  So much has been said and written about Mrs. Stowe, that it is hardly worth while for us to give our daguerrotype impression of her. Yet, everybody wants to know how persons of her eminence look; how they speak; how they act at home? Whether they're pretty or homely? Whether they are quiet or boisterous? Whether they are loquacious or reserved? We are all looking out for examples, and we look for them among the great ones; if we cannot imitate them in their great works, we can, at least, imitate them in their manners and bearing.

  Well, in respect to Mrs. Stowe, as might be supposed, she has a way and a manner of her own; having more points of resemblance, perhaps, with the sisterhood of American women than most persons; yet, peculiar, marked, original. Sitting at the window of a milliner's shop, no one would ever suspect her of being the splendid genius that she is! She would be passed and repassed, attracting no more attention than ordinary ladies. She would appear simply as a thoughtful, industrious manager of household affairs; nothing more.

  It is only when in conversation with the authoress of "Uncle Tom's Cabin" that she would be suspected of possessing that deep insight into human character, that melting pathos, keen and quiet wit, powers of argumentation, exalted sense of justice, and enlightened and comprehensive philosophy, so eminently displayed in the master book of the nineteenth century.

  The object of our visit was to consult with the authoress, as to some method which should contribute successfully, and permanently, to the improvement and elevation of the free people of color in the United States—a work in which the benevolent lady designs to take a practical part; and we hesitate not to say that we shall look with more confidence to her efforts in that department, than to those of any other single individual in the country. In addition to having a heart for the work, she, of all others, has the ability to command and combine the means for carrying it forward in a manner likely to be most efficient. She desires that some practical good shall result to the colored people of this country, by the publication of her book—that some useful institution shall rise up in the wake of "Uncle Tom's Cabin."—The good lady, after showing us, in the most child-like manner, any number of letters, in testimony of the value of her book, together with presents of various kinds, among the number the beautiful "BRONZE STATUE OF A FEMALE SLAVE," entered most fully into a discussion with us on the present condition and wants of "the free colored people."

  Her style of conversation is free from the slightest tinge of affectation; she makes little account of emphasis, accentuation, pronunciation or rhetoric. The words are, evidently, subordinate to the thought—not the thought to the words. You listen to her, rather than to her language. While engaged in carrying out any particular branch of an argument, her whole mind seems turned within, and she seems not to think of the presence of any. But when the thought or argument is completely expressed, there is a lighting up of all the features; the eyes flash with especial brilliance. The feeling with which her manner inspired us, is not unlike that experienced when contemplating the ocean waves upon the velvet strand. You see them silently forming—rising—rolling—and increasing in speed, till, all at once, they are gloriously capped in sparkling beauty. Thus, wave after wave rolls in from the ocean; the mind fastened upon the beauty of the one, until disengaged by the still greater beauty of those succeeding. We could not feel other than at home in the presence of Mrs. Stowe, notwithstanding our reverence for her genius. She who had walked, with lighted candle, through the darkest and most obscure corners of the slave's soul, and had unfolded the secrets of the slave's lacerated heart, could not be a stranger to us; nor could we make ourselves such to her.

  She was our friend and benefactress. Aye, and the friend of all mankind—one like BURNS or SHAKESPEARE, those favored ones of earth, to whom the whole book of humanity unfolds its ample pages, and from whom nothing is hid.

  We looked around, while here, to see if we could find anything like a counterpart to little "EVA," (a TOPSY we did not expect to find—that is a character for which we should look elsewhere—we think we have met with many in our day,) and lo! A dear little "Eva" stood at our elbow, in the person of a young daughter of Mrs. Stowe—a child from 8 to 10 years old, with a voice as tender and gentle, and eyes as soft, and as intensely spiritual as those which adorned the angelic creation in "UNCLE TOM'S CABIN." We said, "why you are little Eva!" the dear girl answered with a beautiful meekness, and a turn of seriousness far beyond her years, "Oh! No, I'm not so good as she!"

  Mrs. Stowe's plan for improving the condition of the free colored people will be made known in due season. For the present, it is sufficient to know that her attention is now most earnestly turned to this subject; and we have no question that it will result in lasting benefit to our class.