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Travellers' Stories by Eliza Lee Cabot Follen
page 8 of 40 (20%)
stone house, surrounded by laurels, and roses, and fuschias, and
other flowers and flowering shrubs. The porch is all covered with
ivy. We found the venerable man in his low, dark parlor. He very
kindly showed us his study, and then took us over his grounds.

When we took our leave, I asked him to give each of us a leaf from a
fine laurel tree near him; this he did very kindly, and smiled as
kindly at my effort at a compliment, in saying to him something
about one who had received so many laurels having some to spare to
others. I thanked him for his goodness in giving me so much of his
time, and bade the venerable man good by, very much pleased with my
visit, and very grateful to the kind friend who had introduced me to
him, and insured me a welcome. I shall never forget that day.

Ambleside is a very fashionable place for travellers to visit in the
summer months, and we saw there many distinguished and agreeable
people.

I had a conversation with an intelligent lad of fourteen years of
age, which impressed me very much. He was talking with me about our
country, and finding faults with it of various kinds. While I could,
I defended it. He thought our revolution was only a rebellion. I
told him that all revolutions were only successful rebellions, and
that we bore with the tyranny of his country as long as we could. "I
don't like the Americans," said he; he blushed as he thought of the
discourtesy of saying this to me, and then added, "they are so
inconsistent; they call themselves republicans, and then hold
slaves, and that is so wicked and absurd." He went on to say all he
thought and felt about the wickedness of slavery. I heard him to the
end, and then said, "There is nothing you have said upon that
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