In these gatherings we met the leading Quaker families and many other philanthropists of different denominations interested in the anti-slavery movement. On all these occasions our noble Garrison spoke most effectively， and thus our English friends had an opportunity of enjoying his eloquence， the lack of which had been so grave a loss in the convention.
We devoted a month sedulously to sightseeing in London， and， in the line of the traveler's duty， we explored St. Paul's Cathedral， the British Museum， the Tower， various prisons， hospitals， galleries of art， Windsor Castle， and St. James's Palace， the Zoö；logical Gardens， the schools and colleges， the chief theaters and churches， Westminster Abbey， the Houses of Parliament， and the Courts. We heard the most famous preachers， actors， and statesmen. In fact， we went to the top and bottom of everything， from the dome of St. Paul to the tunnel under the Thames， just then in the process of excavation. We drove through the parks， sailed up and down the Thames， and then visited every shire but four in England， in all of which we had large meetings， Mr. Birney and Mr. Stanton being the chief speakers. As we were generally invited to stay with Friends， it gave us a good opportunity to see the leading families， such as the Ashursts， the Alexanders， the Priestmans， the Braithwaites， and Buxtons， the Gurneys， the Peases， the Wighams of Edinburgh， and the Webbs of Dublin. We spent a few days with John Joseph Gurney at his beautiful home in Norwich. He had just returned from America， having made a tour through the South. When asked how he liked America， he said， "I like everything but your pie crust and your slavery."
Before leaving London， the whole American delegation， about forty in number， were invited to dine with Samuel Gurney. He and his brother， John Joseph Gurney， were， at that time， the leading bankers in London. Someone facetiously remarked that the Jews were the leading bankers in London until the Quakers crowded them out.
One of the most striking women I met in England at this time was Miss Elizabeth Pease. I never saw a more strongly marked face. Meeting her， forty years after， on the platform of a great meeting in the Town Hall at Glasgow， I knew her at once. She is now Mrs. Nichol of Edinburgh， and， though on the shady side of eighty， is still active in all the reforms of the day.
It surprised us very much at first， when driving into the grounds of some of these beautiful Quaker homes， to have the great bell rung at the lodge， and to see the number of livened servants on the porch and in the halls， and then to meet the host in plain garb， and to be welcomed in plain language， "How does thee do， Henry？" "How does thee do Elizabeth？" This sounded peculiarly sweet to me朼 stranger in a strange land. The wealthy English Quakers we visited at that time， taking them all in all， were the most charming people I had ever seen. They were refined and intelligent on all subjects， and 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朼lways 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."
