e church, in whose pew I sat, groaned aloud and gripped his
hands so that the nails left their mark. Others around him were
in the same frame of mind and spirit.

I saw there and then that the men who fought with Cromwell and won
the battle of Naseby had in modern England plenty of descendants.
They had changed only in outward deference to modern usages and
conditions. If there had been occasion, Mr. Spurgeon could have
led them for any sacrifice to what they believed to be right.
I felt the power of that suppressed feeling--I would not say
fanaticism, but intense conscientiousness--which occasionally
in elections greatly surprises English politicians.

Canon Farrar's sermon easily takes its place among the selected
books of the library. Spurgeon's address was straight from the
shoulder, blow for blow, for the needs of the hour.

One of the novel incidents of the generous hospitality which I
enjoyed every year in London was a dinner at the Athenaeum Club
given to me by one of the members of the government at that time.
He was a gentleman of high rank and political importance. There
were twenty-six at the dinner, and it was a representative gathering.

At the conclusion our host made a very cordial speech on more
intimate relations between the United States and Great Britain,
and then in a complimentary phrase introduced me, saying: "I hope
you will speak freely and without limit."

I was encouraged by a most sympathetic audience and had a good
time during my effort. No one else was called upon. My host was
complimentary and said: "Your speech was so satisfactory that
I thought best not to have any more."

Some time afterwards he said to me: "Many of my friends had heard
of you but never heard you, so I made up my mind to give them
the opportunity, and what was really a purely social affair for
every other guest, I turned into an international occasion just
to draw you out. However, the fraud, if it was a fraud, was an
eminent success."

No one in England did more for Americans than Sir Henry Lucy.
Every American knew all about him, because of his reputation, and
particularly because he was the author of that most interesting
column in Punch called the "Essence of Parliament."

At his luncheons he gathered eminent men in public life and in
the literary and journalistic activities of Great Britain. These
luncheons were most informal, and under the hospitable genius
of Lucy the guests became o