After the service was over I went into the vestry, and was introduced to Mr. Noel.  The congregation of the established church, to which he ministered during his connection with it, are still warmly attached to him.  His leaving them was a dreadful trial; some of them can scarcely mention his name without tears.  C. says, with regard to the church singing, as far as he heard it, it is twenty years behind that in Boston.  In the afternoon I staid at home to nurse Mr. S. A note from Lady John Russell inviting us there.

Monday, May 9.  I should tell you that at the Duchess of Sutherland’s an artist, named Burnard, presented me with a very fine cameo head of Wilberforce, cut from a statue in Westminster Abbey.  He is from Cornwall, in the south of England, and has attained some celebrity as an artist.  He wanted to take a bust of me; and though it always makes me laugh to think of having a new likeness, considering the melancholy results of all former enterprises, yet still I find myself easy to be entreated, in hopes, as Mr. Micawber says, that something may “turn up,” though I fear the difficulty is radical in the subject.  So I made an appointment with Mr. Burnard, and my very kind friend, Mr. B., in addition to all the other confusions I have occasioned in his mansion, consented to have his study turned into a studio.  Upon the heels of this comes another sculptor, who has a bust begun, which he says is going to be finished in Parian, and published whether I sit for it or not, though, of course, he would much prefer to get a look at me now and then.  Well, Mr. B. says he may come, too; so there you may imagine me in the study, perched upon a very high stool, dividing my glances between the two sculptors, one of whom, is taking one side of my face, and one the other.

To-day I went with Mr. and Mrs. B. to hear the examination of a borough-school for boys.  Mrs. B. told me it was not precisely a charity school, but one where the means of education were furnished at so cheap a rate, that the poorest classes could enjoy them.  Arrived at the hall, we found quite a number of distingues, bishops, lords, and clergy, besides numbers of others assembled to hear.  The room was hung round with the drawings of the boys, and specimens of handwriting.  I was quite astonished at some of them.  They were executed by pen, pencil, or crayon—­drawings of machinery, landscapes, heads, groups, and flowers, all in a style which any parent among us would be proud to exhibit, if done by our own children.  The boys looked very bright and intelligent, and I was delighted with the system, of instruction which had evidently been pursued with them.  We heard them first in the reading and recitation of poetry; after that in arithmetic and algebra, then in natural philosophy, and last, and most satisfactorily, in the Bible.  It was perfectly evident from the nature of the questions and answers, that it was not a crammed examination, and that the readiness of reply proceeded not from