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Page 25
Few nations are more courteous than the French. Here the stranger, let
him come from what country he may, and be ever so unacquainted with the
people and language, he is sure of a civil reply to any question that he
may ask. With the exception of the egregious blunder I have mentioned of
the cabman driving me to the Elysee, I was not laughed at once while in
France.
LETTER VIII.
_Departure from Paris--Boulogne--Folkstone--London--Geo. Thompson, Esq.,
M.P.--Hartwell House--Dr. Lee--Cottage of the Peasant--Windsor
Castle--Residence of Wm. Penn--England's First Welcome--Heath Lodge--The
Bank of England._
LONDON, _Sept. 8th_.
The sun had just appeared from behind a cloud and was setting, and its
reflection upon the domes and spires of the great buildings in Paris
made everything appear lovely and sublime, as the train, with almost
lightning speed, was bringing me from the French metropolis. I gazed
with eager eyes to catch a farewell glance of the tops of the regal
palaces through which I had passed, during a stay of fifteen days in the
French capital.
A pleasant ride of four hours brought us to Boulogne, where we rested
for the night. The next morning I was up at an early hour, and out
viewing the town. Boulogne could present but little attraction, after a
fortnight spent in seeing the lions of Paris. A return to the hotel, and
breakfast over, we stepped on board the steamer, and were soon crossing
the channel. Two hours more, and I was safely seated in a railway
carriage, _en route_ to the English metropolis. We reached London at
mid-day, where I was soon comfortably lodged at 22, Cecil Street,
Strand. As the London lodging-houses seldom furnish dinners, I lost no
time in seeking out a dining-saloon, which I had no difficulty in
finding in the Strand. It being the first house of the kind I had
entered in London, I was not a little annoyed at the politeness of the
waiter. The first salutation I had, after seating myself in one of the
stalls, was, "Ox tail, Sir; gravy soup; carrot soup, Sir; roast beef;
roast pork; boiled beef; roast lamb; boiled leg of mutton, Sir, with
caper sauce; jugged hare, Sir; boiled knuckle of veal and bacon; roast
turkey and oyster sauce; sucking pig, Sir; curried chicken; harrico
mutton, Sir." These, and many other dishes which I have forgotten, were
called over with a rapidity that would have done credit to one of our
Yankee pedlars, in crying his wares in a New England village. I was so
completely taken by surprise, that I asked for a "bill of fare," and
told him to leave me. No city in the world furnishes a cheaper, better,
and quicker meal for the weary traveller, than a London eating-house.
* * * * *
After spending a day in looking about through this great thoroughfare,
the Strand, I sallied forth with letters of introduction, with which I
had been provided by my friends before leaving America; and following
the direction of one, I was soon at No. 6, A, Waterloo Place. A moment
more, and I was in the presence of one of whom I had heard much, and
whose name is as familiar to the friends of the slave in the United
States, as household words. Although I had never seen him before, yet I
felt a feeling akin to love for the man who had proclaimed to the
oppressors of my race in America, the doctrine of _immediate
emancipation_ for the slaves of the great Republic. On reaching the
door, I sent in my letter; and it being fresh from the hands of William
Lloyd Garrison, the champion of freedom in the New World, was calculated
to insure me a warm reception at the hands of the distinguished M.P. for
the Tower Hamlets. Mr. Thompson did not wait for the servant to show me
in; but met me at the door himself, and gave me a hearty shake of the
hand, at the same time saying, "Welcome to England. How did you leave
Garrison." I need not add, that Mr. T. gave me the best advice, as to my
course in Great Britain; and how I could best serve the cause of my
enslaved countrymen. I never enjoyed three hours more agreeably than
those I spent with Mr. T. on the occasion of my first visit. George
Thompson's love of freedom, his labours in behalf of the American slave,
the negroes of the West Indies, and the wronged millions of India, are
too well known to the people of both hemispheres, to need a word of
comment from me. With the single exception of the illustrious Garrison,
no individual is more loved and honoured by the coloured people of
America, and their friends than Mr. Thompson.
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