SECOND POSTSCRIPT 



eventually destined to be the Atlas of the British nation. His 

 faculty of relating anecdotes is amusing. Instances when we 

 meet. My impressions of Mr. Cobbett are, that those who 

 know him would like him, if they can be content to submit 

 unconditionally to his dictation. Obey me, and I will treat 

 you kindly ; if you do not, I will trample on you, seemed 

 visible in every word and feature. He appears to feel, in its 

 fullest force, the sentiment, 



I have no brother, am like no brother: 

 I am myself alone. &quot; 



1065. It is unlucky for this blade, that the parties are alive. 

 First let the &quot; English woman &quot; speak for herself, which she does, 

 in these words : 



1066. I remember, that, about a week after I came to Hyde 

 Park, in 1817, a man came to the house in the evening, when Mr. 

 Cobbett was out, and that he came again the next morning. I 

 never knew, or asked, what countryman he was. He came to 

 the back door. I first gave him a chair in a back-room ; but, as 

 he was a slippery-looking young man, and as it was growing late, 

 my husband thought it was best to bring him down into the 

 kitchen, where he staid till he went away. I had no talk with 

 him. I could not know what condition Mr. Cobbett found the 

 house in, for I did not come here till the middle of August. I 

 never heard whether the gentleman that lived here before Mr. 

 Cobbett, was an American, or not. I never in my life said a word 

 against the people or the country : I am very glad I came to it ; 

 I am doing very well in it ; and have found as good and kind 

 friends amongst the Americans, as I ever had in all my life. ,.; 



MARY ANN CHURCHER. 

 Hyde Park, 

 8th January, 1819. 



1067. Mrs. Churcher puts me in mind, that I asked her what 

 sort of a looking man it was, and that she said he looked like an 

 Exciseman, and that Churcher exclaimed : &quot; Why, you fool, 

 &quot; they don t have any Excisemen and such fellows here ! &quot; I 

 never was at a county court in America in my life. I was out 

 shooting. As to the house, it is a better one than he ever entered, 

 except as a lodger or a servant, or to carry home work. The path, 

 so far from being trackless, was as beaten as the highway. The 

 gentleman who lived here before me was an Englishman, whose 

 name was Crow. But only think of dirt, two feet deep, in a kitchen ! 

 All is false. The house was built by Judge Ludlow. It is large, 

 and very sound and commodious. The avenues of trees before 

 it the most beautiful that I ever saw. The orchard, the fine shade 

 and fine grass all about the house ; the abundant garden, the 

 beautiful turnip field ; the whole a subject worthy of admiration, 



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