ed. I opened with a song in honor of Mrs. Bean,
our kind and efficient stewardess.

"God save our Mrs. Bean,
Best woman ever seen,
God save Mrs. Bean.
God bless her gown and cap,
Pour guineas in her lap,
Keep her from all mishap,
God save Mrs. Bean."

The company were invited to join in singing these lines, which were, of
course, a take-off on "God save our gracious Queen." I can still see in
my mind's eye dear old Madam Sedgwick, mother of the well-known jurist,
Theodore of that name, lifting her quavering, high voice to aid in the
singing.

Mrs. Bean was rather taken aback by the unexpected homage rendered her.
We all called out: "Speech! speech!" whereupon she curtsied and said:
"Good ladies makes good stewardesses; that's all I can say," which was
very well in its way.

Rev. Jacob Abbott was one of our fellow passengers, and had been much in
our cabin, where he busied himself in compounding various "soft drinks"
for convalescent lady friends. His health was accordingly proposed with
the following stanza:--

"Dr. Abbott in our cabin,
Mixing of a soda-powder,
How he ground it,
How did pound it,
While the tempest threatened louder."

I next gave the cow's health, whereupon a lady passenger, with a Scotch
accent, demurred: "I don't want to drink her health at a'. I think she
is the poorest _coo_ I ever heard of."

Arriving in London, we found comfortable lodgings in Upper Baker Street,
and busied ourselves with the delivery of our many letters of
introduction.

The Rev. Sydney Smith was one of the first to honor our introduction
with a call. His reputation as a wit was already world-wide, and he was
certainly one of the idols of London society. In appearance he was
hardly prepossessing. He was short and squat of figure, with a rubicund
countenance, redeemed by a pair of twinkling eyes. When we first saw
him, my husband was suffering from the result of a trifling accident.
Mr. Smith said, "Dr. Howe, I must send you my gouty crutches."

My husband demurred at this, and begged Mr. Smith not to give himself
that trouble. He insisted, however, and the crutches were sent. Dr. Howe
had really no need of them, and I laughed with him at their
disproportion to his height, which would in any case have made it
impossible for him to use them. The loan was presently returned with
thanks, but scarcely soon enough; for Sydney Smith, who had lost heavily
by American investments, published in one