There was a gentle, subdued murmur of conversation all over the house,
the sociable clinking of teacups and teaspoons, while the
entertainment was going on. It seemed to me such an odd idea, I could
not help wondering what sort of a teapot that must be in which all
this tea for two thousand people was made. Truly, as Hadji Baba says,
I think they must have had the "father of all the tea-kettles" to boil
it in. I could not help wondering if old mother Scotland had put two
thousand teaspoonfuls of tea for the company, and one for the teapot,
as is our good Yankee custom.
We had quite a sociable time up in our gallery. Our tea-table
stretched quite across, and we drank tea in sight of all the people.
By _we_, I mean a great number of ministers and their wives, and
ladies of the Anti-Slavery society, besides our party, and the friends
whom I have mentioned before. All seemed to be enjoying themselves.
After tea they sang a few verses of the seventy-second psalm in the
old Scotch version.
_April_ 17. To-day a large party of us started on a small steamer
to go down the Clyde. It was a trip full of pleasure and incident. Now
we were shown the remains of old Cardross Castle, where it was said
Robert Bruce breathed his last. And now we came near the beautiful
grounds of Roseneath, a green, velvet-like peninsula, stretching out
into the widening waters.
Somewhere about here I was presented, by his own request, to a broad-
shouldered Scotch farmer, who stood some six feet two, and who paid me
the compliment to say that he had read my book, and that he would walk
sis miles to see me any day.
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