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"Compiled From Her Letters and Journals by Her Son Charles Edward Stowe"


The next day was appointed to leave Liverpool. A great number of
friends accompanied us to the cars, and a beautiful bouquet of flowers
was sent with a very affecting message from a sick gentleman, who,
from the retirement of his chamber, felt a desire to testify his
sympathy. We left Liverpool with hearts a little tremulous and excited
by the vibration of an atmosphere of universal sympathy and kindness,
and found ourselves, at length, shut from the warm adieu of our
friends, in a snug compartment of the railroad car.
"Dear me!" said Mr. S.; "six Yankees shut up in a car together! Not
one Englishman to tell us anything about the country! Just like the
six old ladies that made their living by taking tea at each other's
houses!"
What a bright lookout we kept for ruins and old houses! Mr. S., whose
eyes are always in every place, allowed none of us to slumber, but
looking out, first on his own side and then on ours, called our
attention to every visible thing. If he had been appointed on a
mission of inquiry, he could not have been more zealous and faithful,
and I began to think that our desire for an English cicerone was quite
superfluous.
Well, we are in Scotland at last, and now our pulse rises as the sun
declines in the west. We catch glimpses of Solway Frith and talk about
Redgauntlet. The sun went down and night drew on; still we were in
Scotland.


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