born in a land where no child could be bought or sold, they responded
with enthusiastic cheers--cheers which made me feel rather sad; but
still I could not quarrel with English people for taking all the pride
and all the comfort which this inspiriting truth can convey.

They had a hard enough struggle in rooting up the old weed of slavery,
to justify them in rejoicing in their freedom. Well, the day will come
in America, as I trust, when as much can be said for us.

After the children were gone came a succession of calls; some from very
aged people, the veterans of the old antislavery cause. I was astonished
and overwhelmed by the fervor of feeling some of them manifested; there
seemed to be something almost prophetic in the enthusiasm with which
they expressed their hope of our final success in America. This
excitement, though very pleasant, was wearisome, and I was glad of an
opportunity after dinner to rest myself, by rambling uninterrupted, with
my friends, through the beautiful grounds of the Dingle.

Two nice little boys were my squires on this occasion, one of whom, a
sturdy little fellow, on being asked his name, gave it to me in full as
Joseph Babington Macaulay, and I learned that his mother, by a former
marriage, had been the wife of Macaulay's brother. Uncle Tom Macaulay, I
found, was a favorite character with the young people. Master Harry
conducted me through the walks to the conservatories, all brilliant with
azaleas and all sorts of flowers, and then through a long walk on the
banks of the Mersey.

Here the wild flowers attracted my attention, as being so different
from those of our own country. Their daisy is not our flower, with its
wide, plaited ruff and yellow centre. The English daisy is