plaintive, rhythmical chant, with as strong an unction of the nasal as
ever prevailed in a Quaker or Methodist meeting. I cannot exactly
understand why Episcopacy threw out the slur of "nasal twang" as one
of the peculiarities of the conventicle, when it is in full force in
the most approved seats of church orthodoxy. I listened to all in as
uncritical and sympathetic a spirit as possible, giving myself up to
be lifted by the music as high as it could waft me. To one thus
listening, it is impossible to criticize with severity; for, unless
positively offensive, any music becomes beautiful by the power of
sympathy and association. After service we listened to a short sermon
from the Rev. Mr. Villiers, fervent, affectionate, and evangelical in
spirit, and much in the general style of sermonizing which I have
already described.

Monday morning, May 23. We went to breakfast at Mr. Cobden's. Mr. C.
is a man of slender frame, rather under than over the middle size,
with great ease of manner, and flexibility of movement, and the most
frank, fascinating smile. His appearance is a sufficient account of
his popularity, for he seems to be one of those men who carry about
them an atmosphere of vivacity and social exhilaration. We had a very
pleasant and social time, discussing and comparing things in England
and America. Mr. Cobden assured us that he had had curious calls from
Americans, sometimes. Once an editor of a small village paper called,
who had been making a tour through the rural districts of England. He
said that he had asked some mowers how they were prospering. They
answered, "We ain't prosperin'; we're hayin'." Said Cobden,

"I told the man, 'Now don't you go home and publish that in your
paper;' but he did, nevertheless, and sent me over the paper with the
story in it." I might have comforted him with many a similar anecdote