This day has been a strange phenomenon to me. In the first place, I
have seen in all these villages how universally the people read. I
have seen how capable they are of a generous excitement and
enthusiasm, and how much may be done by a work of fiction so written
as to enlist those sympathies which are common to all classes.
Certainly a great deal may be effected in this way, if God gives to
any one the power, as I hope he will to many. The power of fictitious
writing, for good as well as evil, is a thing which ought most
seriously to be reflected on. No one can fail to see that in our day
it is becoming a very great agency.
We came home quite tired, as you may well suppose. You will not be
surprised that the next day I found myself more disposed to keep my
bed than go out.
Two days later: We bade farewell to Glasgow, overwhelmed with kindness
to the last, and only oppressed by the thought of how little that was
satisfactory we were able to give in return. Again we were in the
railroad car on our way to Edinburgh. A pleasant two hours' trip is
this from Glasgow to Edinburgh. When the cars stopped at Linlithgow
station, the name started us as out of a dream.
In Edinburgh the cars stopped amid a crowd of people who had assembled
to meet us. The lord provost met us at the door of the car, and
presented us to the magistracy of the city and the committees of the
Edinburgh Anti-Slavery Societies.
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