ect acquaintance with their greatest benefactor, and I dare
say in England as large an experience would not end more honorably
to its subjects. So vast a treasure is left untouched, while men are
complaining of being poor, because they have not toothpicks exactly to
their mind.

At Stratford I handled, too, the poker used to such good purpose by
Geoffrey Crayon. The muse had fled, the fire was out, and the poker
rusty, yet a pleasant influence lingered even in that cold little
room, and seemed to lend a transient glow to the poker under the
influence of sympathy.

In Birmingham I heard two discourses from one of the rising lights of
England, George Dawson, a young man of whom I had earlier heard much
in praise. He is a friend of the people, in the sense of brotherhood,
not of a social convenience or patronage; in literature catholic; in
matters of religion antisectarian, seeking truth in aspiration and
love. He is eloquent, with good method in his discourse, fire and
dignity when wanted, with a frequent homeliness in enforcement and
illustration which offends the etiquettes of England, but fits him the
better for the class he has to address. His powers are uncommon and
unfettered in their play; his aim is worthy. He is fulfilling and will
fulfil an important task as an educator of the people, if all be
not marred by a taint of self-love and arrogance now obvious in his
discourse. This taint is not surprising in one so young, who has
done so much, and in order to do it has been compelled to great
self-confidence and light heed of the authority of other minds, and
who is surrounded almost exclusively by admirers; neither is it,
at present, a large speck; it may be quite purged from him by the
influence of nobler motives and the rise of his ideal standard; but,
on the other hand, should it spread, all must be vitiated. Let us hope
the best, for he is one that could ill be spared from the band who
have taken up the cause of Progress in England.

In this connection I may as well speak of James Martineau, whom I
heard in Liverpool, and W.J. Fox, whom I heard in London.

Mr. Martineau looks like the over-intellectual, the partially
developed man, and his speech confirms this impression. He is
sometimes conservative, sometimes reformer, not in the sense of
eclecticism, but because his powers and views do not find a true
harmony. On the conservative side he is scholarly, acute,--on the
other, pathetic, pictorial, generous.