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Page 45
The speed of our train, after passing Stirling, brought before us, in
quick succession, a number of fine valleys and farm houses. Every spot
seemed to have been arrayed by Nature for the reception of the cottage
of some happy family. During this ride, we passed many sites where the
lawns were made, the terraces defined and levelled, the groves
tastefully clumped, the ancient trees, though small when compared to our
great forest oaks, were beautifully sprinkled here and there, and in
everything the labour of art seemed to have been anticipated by Nature.
Cincinnatus could not have selected a prettier situation for a farm,
than some which presented themselves, during this delightful journey. At
last we arrived at the place of our destination, where our friends were
in waiting for us.
As I have already forwarded to you a paper containing an account of the
Dundee meeting, I shall leave you to judge from these reports the
character of the demonstration. Yet I must mention a fact or two
connected with our first evening's visit to this town. A few hours after
our arrival in the place, we were called upon by a gentleman whose name
is known wherever the English language is spoken--one whose name is on
the tongue of every student and school-boy in this country and America,
and what lives upon their lips will live and be loved for ever.
We were seated over a cup of strong tea, to revive our spirits for the
evening, when our friend entered the room, accompanied by a gentleman,
small in stature, and apparently seventy-five years of age, yet he
appeared as active as one half that age. Feeling half drowsy from riding
in the cold, and then the sudden change to a warm fire, I was rather
inclined not to move on the entrance of the stranger. But the name of
Thomas Dick, LL.D., roused me in a moment, from my lethargy; I could
scarcely believe that I was in the presence of the "Christian
Philosopher." Dr. Dick is one of the men to whom the age is indebted. I
never find myself in the presence of one to whom the world owes so much
as Dr. Dick, without feeling a thrilling emotion, as if I were in the
land of spirits. Dr. Dick had come to our lodgings to see and
congratulate Wm. and Ellen Craft upon their escape from the republican
Christians of the United States; and as he pressed the hand of the
"white slave," and bid her "welcome to British soil," I saw the silent
tear stealing down the cheek of this man of genius. How I wished that
the many slaveholders and pro-slavery professed Christians of America,
who have read and pondered the philosophy of this man, could have been
present. Thomas Dick is an abolitionist--one who is willing that the
world should know that he hates the "peculiar institution." At the
meeting that evening, Dr. Dick was among the most prominent. But this
was not the only distinguished man who took part on that occasion.
Another great mind was on the platform, and entered his solemn protest
in a manner long to be remembered by those present. This was the Rev.
George Gilfillan, well known as the author of the "Portraits of Literary
Men." Mr. Gilfillan is an energetic speaker, and would have been the
lion of the evening, even if many others who are more distinguished as
platform orators had been present. I think it was Napoleon who said that
the enthusiasm of others abated his own. At any rate, the spirit with
which each speaker entered upon his duty for the evening, abated my own
enthusiasm for the time being. The last day of our stay in Dundee, I
paid a visit, by invitation, to Dr. Dick, at his residence in the little
village of Broughty Ferry. We found the great astronomer in his parlour
waiting for us. From the parlour we went to the new study, and here I
felt more at ease, for I went to see the Philosopher in his study, and
not in his drawing-room. But even this room had too much the look of
nicety to be an author's _sanctum_; and I inquired and was soon informed
by Mrs. Dick, that I should have a look at the "_old study_."
During a sojourn of eighteen months in Great Britain, I have had the
good fortune to meet with several distinguished literary characters, and
have always managed, while at their places of abode, to see the table
and favourite chair. Wm. and Ellen Craft were seeing what they could see
through a microscope, when Mrs. Dick returned to the room, and intimated
that we could now see the old literary workshop. I followed, and was
soon in a room about fifteen feet square, with but one window, which
occupied one side of the room. The walls of the other three sides were
lined with books. And many of these looked the very personification of
age. I took my seat in the "_old arm chair_;" and here, thought I, is
the place and the seat in which this distinguished man sat, while
weaving the radiant wreath of renown which now in his old age surrounds
him, and whose labours will be more appreciated by future ages than the
present.
I took a farewell of the author of the "Solar System," but not until I
had taken a look through the great telescope in the observatory. This
instrument, through which I tried to see the heavens, was not the one
invented by Galileo, but an improvement upon the original. On leaving
this learned man, he shook hands with us, and bade us "God speed" in our
mission; and I left the philosopher, feeling I had not passed an hour
more agreeably, with a literary character, since the hour which I spent
with Poet Montgomery a few months since. And, by-the-bye, there is a
resemblance between the poet and the philosopher. In becoming acquainted
with great men, I have become a convert to the opinion, that a big nose
is an almost necessary appendage to the form of a man with a giant
intellect. If those whom I have seen be a criterion, such is certainly
the case. But I have spun out this too long, and must close.
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