The kindness of Mr. Sherman had assembled here a very
agreeable company, among whom were Farquhar Tupper, the artist
Cruikshank, from whom I received a call the other morning, and Mr.
Pilatte, M. P. Cruikshank is an old man with gray hair and eyebrows,
strongly marked features, and keen eyes. He talked to me something
about the promotion of temperance by a series of literary sketches
illustrated by his pencil.
I sat by a lady who was well acquainted with Kingsley, the author of
Alton Locke, Hypatia, and other works, with whom I had some
conversation with regard to the influence of his writings.
She said that he had been instrumental in rescuing from infidelity
many young men whose minds had become unsettled; that he was a devoted
and laborious clergyman, exerting himself, without any cessation, for
the good of his parish.
After the company were gone I tried to get some rest, as my labors
were not yet over, we being engaged to dine at Sir Edward Buxton's.
This was our most dissipated day in London. We never tried the
experiment again of going to three parties in one day.
By the time I got to my third appointment I was entirely exhausted.
