In the last of April, when the wildflowers were in their glory, Mrs. Mellen and her lovely daughter, Daisy, came down to our home at Basingstoke to enjoy its beauty.  As Mrs. Mellen had known Charles Kingsley and entertained him at her residence in Colorado, she felt a desire to see his former home.  Accordingly, one bright morning, Mr. Blatch drove us to Eversley, through Strathfieldsaye, the park of the Duke of Wellington.  This magnificent place was given to him by the English government after the battle of Waterloo.  A lofty statue of the duke, that can be seen for miles around, stands at one entrance.  A drive of a few miles further brought us to the parish church of Canon Kingsley, where he preached many years, and where all that is mortal of him now lies buried.  We wandered through the old church, among the moss-covered tombstones, and into the once happy home, now silent and deserted—­his loved ones being scattered in different quarters of the globe.  Standing near the last resting place of the author of “Hypatia,” his warning words for women, in a letter to John Stuart Mill, seemed like a voice from heaven saying, with new inspiration and power, “This will never be a good world for women until the last remnant of the canon law is civilized off the face of the earth.”

We heard Mr. Fawcett speak to his Hackney constituents at one of his campaign meetings.  In the course of his remarks he mentioned with evident favor, as one of the coming measures, the disestablishment of the Church, and was greeted with loud applause.  Soon after he spoke of woman suffrage as another question demanding consideration, but this was received with laughter and jeers, although the platform was crowded with advocates of the measure, among whom were the wife of the speaker and her sister, Dr. Garrett Anderson.  The audience were evidently in favor of releasing themselves from being taxed to support the Church, forgetting that women were taxed not only to support a Church but also a State in the management of neither of which they had a voice.  Mr. Fawcett was not an orator, but a simple, straightforward speaker.  He made one gesture, striking his right clenched fist into the palm of his left hand at the close of all his strongest assertions, and, although more liberal than his party, he was a great favorite with his constituents.

One pleasant trip I made in England was to Bristol, to visit the Misses Priestman and Mrs. Tanner, sisters-in-law of John Bright.  I had stayed at their father’s house forty years before, so we felt like old friends.  I found them all liberal women, and we enjoyed a few days together, talking over our mutual struggles, and admiring the beautiful scenery for which that part of the country is celebrated.  The women of England were just then organizing political clubs, and I was invited to speak before many of them.  There is an earnestness of purpose among English women that is very encouraging under the prolonged disappointments reformers inevitably suffer.  And the order of English homes, too, among the wealthy classes, is very enjoyable.  All go on from year to year with the same servants, the same surroundings, no changes, no moving, no building even; in delightful contrast with our periodical upheavals, always uncertain where we shall go next, or how long our main dependents will stand by us.