EN, who celebrated his
80th birthday by a dinner at the Cranbourne Hotel. Among those present
were Thornton Hunt, son of Leigh Hunt, and one of the Editors of "The
Leader;" Gen. Houg, an exile from Germany from Freedom's sake; Mr.
Fleming, Editor of the Chartist "Northern Star;" Mons. D'Arusmont and his
daughter, who is the daughter also of Frances Wright. Mr. Owen was of
course present, and spoke quite at length in reiteration and enforcement
of the leading ideas wherewith he has so long endeavored to impress the
world respecting the absolute omnipotence of circumstances in shaping the
Human Character, the impossibility of believing or disbelieving save as
one must, &c. &c. Mr. Owen has scarcely looked younger or heartier at any
time these ten years; he did not seem a shade older than when I last
before met him, at least three years ago. And not many young men are more
buoyant in spirit, more sanguine as to the immediate future, more genial
in temper, more unconquerable in resolution, than he is. I cannot see many
things as he does; it seems to me that he is stone blind on the side of
Faith in the Invisible, and exaggerates the truths he perceives until they
almost become falsehoods; but I love his sunny, benevolent nature, I admire
his unwearied exertions for what he deems the good of Humanity; and,
believing with the great Apostle to the Gentiles, that "Now abide Faith,
Hope, Charity: these three; but the greatest of these is Charity," I
consider him practically a better Christian than half those who,
professing to be such, believe more and do less. I trust his life may be
long spared, and his sun beam cloudless and rosy to the last.

VII.

LONDON--NEW-YORK.

LONDON, Monday, May 15, 1851.

I have now been fifteen days in this magnificent Babel, but so much
engrossed with the Exhibition that I have seen far less of the town than
I otherwise should. Of the City proper (in the center) I know a little;
and I have made my way thence out into the open country on the North and
on the West respectively, but toward the South lies a wilderness of
buildings which I have not yet explored; while Eastward the metropolitan
districts stretch further than I have ever been. The south side of Hyde
Park and the main line of communication thence with the City proper is
the only part of London with which I can claim any real acquaintance.
Yet, on the strength of what little I _do_ know, I propose to say
something of Londo