Yesterday (Saturday) Directly After
Breakfast We Went As By Appointment To Mr. Childs' Office; He Has A
Beautifully Fitted-Up
Room, filled with all kinds of curiosities, - Tom
Moore's harp, Washington's chair, Louis Napoleon's cup and saucer,
splendid clocks of
All kinds; one of them belonged to Lord Howe, which
he had to leave behind him when he was "obliged to run away from the
States in such a hurry!" Mr. Childs' seemed to think I must know all
about this, but I am afraid I had quite forgotten that humiliation. This
reminds me of a story I heard lately of an American lionizing an
Englishman about; they came within sight of Bunker's Hill, and the
American as delicately and modestly as he could announced: "_That_,
sir, is Bunker's Hill," the Englishman put up his glass and looked, and
then said: "And who was Bunker, and what did he do on his hill?" Imagine
the American's indignation at this gross ignorance! To return to Mr.
Childs' room; while there several ladies called, and among them Mrs.
Bloomfield Moore; she talked well and we made friends, and she proposed
to call for us and take us a drive, to which we agreed. After she had
gone Mr. Childs told me she was a poetess and a millionaire, and was
supposed to be engaged to Browning the poet. A man was then told off to
escort us over the building, and a wonderful place it is. All the
printing and editorial work and "job" work so beautifully arranged and
everything in such perfect order.
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