From the top of the Round Tower I had a fine view of the surrounding country.  Stoke Park, once the residence of that great friend of humanity and civilization, William Penn, was among the scenes that I viewed with pleasure from Windsor Castle.  Four years ago, when in the city of Philadelphia, and hunting up the places associated with the name of this distinguished man, and more recently when walking over the farm once occupied by him on the banks of the Delaware, examining the old malt house which is now left standing, because of the veneration with which the name of the man who built it is held, I had no idea that I should ever see the dwelling which he had occupied in the Old World.  Stoke Park is about four miles from Windsor, and is now owned by the Right Hon. Henry Labouchere.

The castle, standing as it does on an eminence, and surrounded by a beautiful valley covered with splendid villas, has the appearance of Gulliver looking down upon the Lilliputians.  It rears its massive towers and irregular walls over and above every other object; it stands like a mountain in the desert.  How full this old palace is of material for thought!  How one could ramble here alone, or with one or two congenial companions, and enjoy a recapitulation of its history!  But an engagement to be at Croydon in the evening cut short my stay at Windsor, and compelled me to return to town in advance of my party.

* * * * *

Having met with John Morland, Esq., of Heath Lodge, at Paris, he gave me an invitation to visit Croydon, and deliver a lecture on American Slavery; and last evening, at eight o’clock, I found myself in a fine old building in the town, and facing the first English audience that I had seen in the sea-girt isle.  It was my first welcome in England.  The assembly was an enthusiastic one, and made still more so by the appearance of George Thompson, Esq., M.P., upon the platform.  It is not my intention to give accounts of my lectures or meetings in these pages.  I therefore merely say, that I left Croydon with a good impression of the English, and Heath Lodge with a feeling that its occupant was one of the most benevolent of men.

The same party with whom I visited Windsor being supplied with a card of admission to the Bank of England, I accepted an invitation to be one of the company.  We entered the vast building at a little past twelve o’clock to-day.  The sun threw into the large halls a brilliancy that seemed to light up the countenances of the almost countless number of clerks, who were at their desks, or serving persons at the counters.  As nearly all my countrymen who visit London pay their respects to this noted institution, I shall sum up my visit to it, by saying that it surpassed my highest idea of a bank.  But a stroll through this monster building of gold and silver brought to my mind an incident that occurred to me a year after my escape from slavery.