In these gatherings we met the leading Quaker families and many other philanthropists of different denominations interested in the anti-slavery movement.  On all these occasions our noble Garrison spoke most effectively, and thus our English friends had an opportunity of enjoying his eloquence, the lack of which had been so grave a loss in the convention.

We devoted a month sedulously to sightseeing in London, and, in the line of the traveler’s duty, we explored St. Paul’s Cathedral, the British Museum, the Tower, various prisons, hospitals, galleries of art, Windsor Castle, and St. James’s Palace, the Zoological Gardens, the schools and colleges, the chief theaters and churches, Westminster Abbey, the Houses of Parliament, and the Courts.  We heard the most famous preachers, actors, and statesmen.  In fact, we went to the top and bottom of everything, from the dome of St. Paul to the tunnel under the Thames, just then in the process of excavation.  We drove through the parks, sailed up and down the Thames, and then visited every shire but four in England, in all of which we had large meetings, Mr. Birney and Mr. Stanton being the chief speakers.  As we were generally invited to stay with Friends, it gave us a good opportunity to see the leading families, such as the Ashursts, the Alexanders, the Priestmans, the Braithwaites, and Buxtons, the Gurneys, the Peases, the Wighams of Edinburgh, and the Webbs of Dublin.  We spent a few days with John Joseph Gurney at his beautiful home in Norwich.  He had just returned from America, having made a tour through the South.  When asked how he liked America, he said, “I like everything but your pie crust and your slavery.”

Before leaving London, the whole American delegation, about forty in number, were invited to dine with Samuel Gurney.  He and his brother, John Joseph Gurney, were, at that time, the leading bankers in London.  Someone facetiously remarked that the Jews were the leading bankers in London until the Quakers crowded them out.

One of the most striking women I met in England at this time was Miss Elizabeth Pease.  I never saw a more strongly marked face.  Meeting her, forty years after, on the platform of a great meeting in the Town Hall at Glasgow, I knew her at once.  She is now Mrs. Nichol of Edinburgh, and, though on the shady side of eighty, is still active in all the reforms of the day.

It surprised us very much at first, when driving into the grounds of some of these beautiful Quaker homes, to have the great bell rung at the lodge, and to see the number of liveried servants on the porch and in the halls, and then to meet the host in plain garb, and to be welcomed in plain language, “How does thee do, Henry?” “How does thee do Elizabeth?” This sounded peculiarly sweet to me—­a stranger in a strange land.  The wealthy English Quakers we visited at that time, taking them all in all, were the most charming people I had ever seen.  They were refined and intelligent on all subjects, and