though rather conservative on some points, were not aggressive in pressing their opinions on others.  Their hospitality was charming and generous, their homes the beau ideal of comfort and order, the cuisine faultless, while peace reigned over all.  The quiet, gentle manner and the soft tones in speaking, and the mysterious quiet in these well-ordered homes were like the atmosphere one finds in a modern convent, where the ordinary duties of the day seem to be accomplished by some magical influence.

Before leaving London we spent a delightful day in June at the home of Samuel Gurney, surrounded by a fine park with six hundred deer roaming about—­always a beautiful feature in the English landscape.  As the Duchess of Sutherland and Lord Morpeth had expressed a wish to Mrs. Fry to meet some of the leading American abolitionists, it was arranged that they should call at her brother’s residence on this occasion.  Soon after we arrived, the Duchess, with her brother and Mrs. Fry, in her state carriage with six horses and outriders, drove up to the door.  Mr. Gurney was evidently embarrassed at the prospect of a lord and a duchess under his roof.  Leaning on the arm of Mrs. Fry, the duchess was formally introduced to us individually.  Mrs. Mott conversed with the distinguished guests with the same fluency and composure as with her own countrywomen.  However anxious the English people were as to what they should say and do, the Americans were all quite at their ease.

As Lord Morpeth had some interesting letters from the island of Jamaica to read to us, we formed a circle on the lawn to listen.  England had just paid one hundred millions of dollars to emancipate the slaves, and we were all interested in hearing the result of the experiment.  The distinguished guest in turn had many questions to ask in regard to American slavery.  We found none of that prejudice against color in England which is so inveterate among the American people; at my first dinner in England I found myself beside a gentleman from Jamaica, as black as the ace of spades.  After the departure of the duchess, dinner was announced.  It was a sumptuous meal, most tastefully served.  There were half a dozen wineglasses at every plate, but abolitionists, in those days, were all converts to temperance, and, as the bottles went around there was a general headshaking, and the right hand extended over the glasses.  Our English friends were amazed that none of us drank wine.  Mr. Gurney said he had never before seen such a sight as forty ladies and gentlemen sitting down to dinner and none of them tasting wine.  In talking with him on that point, he said: 

“I suppose your nursing mothers drink beer?”

I laughed, and said, “Oh, no!  We should be afraid of befogging the brains of our children.”

“No danger of that,” said he; “we are all bright enough, and yet a cask of beer is rolled into the cellar for the mother with each newborn child.”