I repeat to you the things which I hear floating of the public characters of England, and you can attach what degree of credence you may think proper.  As a general rule in this censorious world, I think it safe to suppose that the good which is commonly reported of public characters, if not true in the letter of its details, is at least so in its general spirit.  The stories which are told about distinguished people generally run in a channel coincident with the facts of their character.  On the other hand, with regard to evil reports, it is safe always to allow something for the natural propensity to detraction and slander, which is one of the most undoubted facts of human nature in all lands.

We left Dundee at two o’clock, by cars, for Edinburgh.  In the evening we attended another soiree of the working men of Edinburgh.  As it was similar in all respects to the one at Glasgow, I will not dwell upon it, further than to say how gratifying to me, in every respect, are occasions in which working men, as a class, stand out before the public. They are to form, more and more, a new power in society, greater than the old power of helmet and sword, and I rejoice in every indication that they are learning to understand themselves.

We have received letters from the working men, both in Dundee and Glasgow, desiring our return to attend soirees in those cities.  Nothing could give us greater pleasure, had we time and strength.  No class of men are more vitally interested in the conflict of freedom against slavery than working men.  The principle upon which slavery is founded touches every interest of theirs.  If it be right that one half of the community should deprive the other half of education, of all opportunities to rise in the world, of all property rights and all family ties, merely to make them more convenient tools for their profit and luxury, then every injustice and extortion, which oppresses the laboring man in any country, can be equally defended.

LETTER VIII.

DEAR AUNT E.:—­

You wanted us to write about our visit to Melrose; so here you have it.

On Tuesday morning Mr. S. and C——­ had agreed to go back to Glasgow for the purpose of speaking at a temperance meeting, and as we were restricted for time, we were obliged to make the visit to Melrose in their absence, much to the regret of us all.  G——­ thought we would make a little quiet run out in the cars by ourselves, while Mr. S. and C——­ were gone back to Glasgow.

It was one of those soft, showery, April days, misty and mystical, now weeping and now shining, that we found ourselves whirled by the cars through this enchanted ground of Scotland.  Almost every name we heard spoken along the railroad, every stream we passed, every point we looked at, recalled some line of Walter Scott’s poetry, or some event of history.  The thought that he was gone forever, whose genius