traits of character we are led to expect from her books
for children. Her husband is full of the same agreeable information,
communicated in the same lively yet precise manner we find in his
books; it was like talking with old friends, except that now the
eloquence of the eye was added. At their house I became acquainted
with Dr. Southwood Smith, the well-known philanthropist. He is at
present engaged on the construction of good tenements calculated to
improve the condition of the working people. His plans look promising,
and should they succeed, you shall have a detailed account of them. On
visiting him, we saw an object which I had often heard celebrated,
and had thought would be revolting, but found, on the contrary, an
agreeable sight; this is the skeleton of Jeremy Bentham. It was at
Bentham's request that the skeleton, dressed in the same dress he
habitually wore, stuffed out to an exact resemblance of life, and with
a portrait mark in wax, the best I ever saw, sits there, as assistant
to Dr. Smith in the entertainment of his guests and companion of his
studies. The figure leans a little forward, resting the hands on a,
stout stick which Bentham always carried, and had named "Dapple";
the attitude is quite easy, the expression of the whole quite mild,
winning, yet highly individual. It is a pleasing mark of that unity
of aim and tendency to be expected throughout the life of such a mind,
that Bentham, while quite a young man, had made a will, in which, to
oppose in the most convincing manner the prejudice against dissection
of the human subject, he had given his body after death to be used in
service of the cause of science. "I have not yet been able," said the
will, "to do much service to my fellow-men by my life, but perhaps I
may in this manner by my death." Many years after, reading a pamphlet
by Dr. Smith on the same subject, he was much pleased with it,
became his friend, and bequeathed his body to his care and use, with
directions that the skeleton should finally be disposed of in the way
I have described.

The countenance of Dr. Smith has an expression of expansive, sweet,
almost childlike goodness. Miss Gillies has made a charming picture of
him, with a favorite little granddaughter nestling in his arms.

Another marked figure that I encountered on this great showboard was
Cooper, the author of "The Purgatory of Luicides," a very remarkable
poem, of which, had there been leisure before my departure, I sh