In the House of Commons, which we visited several times, we met Sir Henry M. Stanley.  I talked with him about Africa and its relation to the American Negro, and after my interview with him I became more convinced than ever that there was no hope of the American Negro’s improving his condition by emigrating to Africa.

On various occasions Mrs. Washington and I were the guests of Englishmen in their country homes, where, I think, one sees the Englishman at his best.  In one thing, at least, I feel sure that the English are ahead of Americans, and that is, that they have learned how to get more out of life.  The home life of the English seems to me to be about as perfect as anything can be.  Everything moves like clockwork.  I was impressed, too, with the deference that the servants show to their “masters” and “mistresses,”—­terms which I suppose would not be tolerated in America.  The English servant expects, as a rule, to be nothing but a servant, and so he perfects himself in the art to a degree that no class of servants in America has yet reached.  In our country the servant expects to become, in a few years, a “master” himself.  Which system is preferable?  I will not venture an answer.

Another thing that impressed itself upon me throughout England was the high regard that all classes have for law and order, and the ease and thoroughness with which everything is done.  The Englishmen, I found, took plenty of time for eating, as for everything else.  I am not sure if, in the long run, they do not accomplish as much or more than rushing, nervous Americans do.

My visit to England gave me a higher regard for the nobility than I had had.  I had no idea that they were so generally loved and respected by the classes, nor that I any correct conception of how much time and money they spent in works of philanthropy, and how much real heart they put into this work.  My impression had been that they merely spent money freely and had a “good time.”

It was hard for me to get accustomed to speaking to English audiences.  The average Englishman is so serious, and is so tremendously in earnest about everything, that when I told a story that would have made an American audience roar with laughter, the Englishmen simply looked me straight in the face without even cracking a smile.

When the Englishman takes you into his heart and friendship, he binds you there as with cords of steel, and I do not believe that there are many other friendships that are so lasting or so satisfactory.  Perhaps I can illustrate this point in no better way than by relating the following incident.  Mrs. Washington and I were invited to attend a reception given by the Duke and Duchess of Sutherland, at Stafford House—­said to be the finest house in London; I may add that I believe the Duchess of Sutherland is said to be the most beautiful woman in England.  There must have been at least three hundred persons at this reception.  Twice during the evening the Duchess sought us out for a conversation, and she asked me to write her when we got home, and tell her more about the work at Tuskegee.  This I did.  When Christmas came we were surprised and delighted to receive her photograph with her autograph on it.  The correspondence has continued, and we now feel that in the Duchess of Sutherland we have one of our warmest friends.