204 WINTER SUNSHINE 



IV 



FROM LONDON TO NEW YORK 



I HAD imagined that the next best thing to see 

 ing England would be to see Scotland; but, as 

 this latter pleasure was denied me, certainly the 

 next best thing was seeing Scotland's greatest son. 

 Carlyle has been so constantly and perhaps justly 

 represented as a stormy and wrathful person, brewing 

 bitter denunciation for America and Americans, that 

 I cannot forbear to mention the sweet and genial 

 mood in which we found him, a gentle and affec 

 tionate grandfather, with his delicious Scotch brogue 

 and rich, melodious talk, overflowing with reminis 

 cences of his earlier life, of Scott and Goethe and 

 Edinburgh, and other men and places he had known. 

 Learning I was especially interested in birds, he 

 discoursed of the lark and nightingale and mavis, 

 framing his remarks about them in some episode of 

 his personal experience, and investing their songs 

 with the double charm of his description and his 

 adventure. 



"It is only geese who get plucked there," said 

 my companion after we had left, a man who had 

 known Carlyle intimately for many years; "silly 

 persons who have no veneration for the great man, 

 and come to convert him or change his convictions 



