Who the good souls were that were thus
watching for us through the night, I am sure I do not know; but that
they were of the "one blood" which unites all the families of the
earth, I felt.
At Glasgow, friends were waiting in the station-house. Earnest, eager,
friendly faces, ever so many. Warm greetings, kindly words. A crowd
parting in the middle, through which we were conducted into a
carriage, and loud cheers of welcome, sent a throb, as the voice of
living Scotland.
I looked out of the carriage, as we drove on, and saw, by the light of
a lantern, Argyll Street. It was past twelve o'clock when I found
myself in a warm, cosy parlor, with friends whom I have ever since
been glad to remember. In a little time we were all safely housed in
our hospitable apartments, and sleep fell on me for the first time in
Scotland.
The next morning I awoke worn and weary, and scarce could the charms
of the social Scotch breakfast restore me.
Our friend and host was Mr. Bailie Paton. I believe that it is to his
suggestion in a public meeting that we owe the invitation which
brought us to Scotland.
After breakfast the visiting began. First, a friend of the family,
with three beautiful children, the youngest of whom was the bearer of
a handsomely bound album, containing a pressed collection of the sea-
mosses of the Scottish coast, very vivid and beautiful.
All this day is a confused dream to me of a dizzy and overwhelming
kind.
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