Wolverhampton is a go-ahead city (I note a strong Scotch element there). A fine park, recently acquired and laid out with taste, shows that the physical well-being of the people is not lost sight of. The administration of our friend ex-Mayor D. is to be credited with this invaluable acquisition. Mr. D. took the most prominent part in the matter, and having succeeded he can consider the park his own estate. It is not in any sense taken away from him, nor one of its charms lessened, because his fellow-citizens share its blessings. Indeed as I strolled through it with him I thought the real sense of ownership must be sweeter from the thousands of his fellows whom we saw rejoicing within it than if he were indeed the lordly owner in fee and rented it for revenue. This whole subject of meum and tuum needs reconsideration. If Burns, when he held his plough in joy upon the mountain-side and saw what he saw, felt what he felt, was not more truly the real possessor of the land than the reputed nominal landlord, then I do not grasp the subject. There are woeful blunders made as to the ownership of things. Who owns the treasures of the Sunderland or Hamilton libraries? and who will shed the tears over their dispersion, think you, chief mourner by virtue of deepest loss, the titled dis-graces, in whose names they stand, or the learned librarian whose days have been spent in holy companionship with them? It is he who has made them his own, drawn them from their miserable owners into his heart. I tell you a man cannot be the real owner of a library or a picture gallery without a title from a much higher tribunal than the law. Nor a horse either, for that matter. Who owns your favorite horse? Test it! I say the groom does. Call Habeeb or Roderick. So slow their response! I won't admit they don't know and like me too. John knows my weakness and stands out of sight and lets me succeed slowly with them; but after that, see at one word from him how they prick up their ears and neigh, dance in their boxes, push their grand heads under his arm, and say as plainly as can be, "This is our man." I'm only a sleeping partner with John in them after all. It's the same all through; go to your dogs, or out to your flocks, and see every sheep, and even the little lambs, the cows with their kind, glowering eyes, the chickens, and every living thing run from you to throng round the hand that feeds them. There is no real purchase in money, you must win friendship and ownership in the lower range of life with kindness, companionship, love; the coin of the realm is not legal tender with Trust, or Habeeb, or Brownie, nor with any of the tribe.
Sister Dora.
Let us not forget to chronicle a visit paid to Walsall, the scene of Sister Dora's labors. It is only seven miles from Wolverhampton in the very heart of the black country. Dr. T. drove us out to the crowded smoky town, and we followed him through the hospital and heard from the officials many interesting stories of that wonderful woman. Our friend the Doctor also knew her well. She has been known to rush through a crowd and separate brutal men who were fighting. The most debased of that ignorant mining and iron manufacturing population seemed under her influence to an incredible degree; but then her sympathy and her tender devotion to every human being in distress were no doubt the secret of her power. A desperate case was brought into the hospital late one night. The physicians pronounced his recovery hopeless, but Sister Dora was not satisfied; indeed, she seemed to feel instinctively that the man had still a chance. She told the physicians to leave him, as she felt that they could do little good after they had given up hope, and took charge of the case herself. She told the poor wretch that she was going to stand by him all night and bring him through; and having faith herself she inspired it in the patient, and the result was that she actually saved the man's life. Here is the very material for a saint. Had this occurred a few generations ago, or were it to occur in some parts of Italy to-day, Saint Dora would surely be added to the calendar, and why not! Let us dispute over the miraculous and supernatural as we may, who will deny that the faith of this noble woman and the faith transmitted from her sympathetic heart to the poor sufferer were the foundation upon which his recovery was built up?
This incident gave rise to a discussion upon the coach one day as to the influence of faith in one's ability to do certain things affecting the result. The man who goes in to win may win: the one who goes in to lose can't win. So far all were agreed. Some of our party were disposed to lament the lack of faith which characterizes this age. "There are no Abrahams now-a-days," said one. "What would you do, Tom, if you should receive a message commanding you to offer up your son upon the altar?" "Well," said Tom, who was a telegraph operator in his early days, "I think I should first ask to have that message repeated." All right. So would we all of us. Still there is a wide province for faith. If it does not exactly remove mountains now a days, it at least enables us to tunnel them, which is much the same thing as far as practical results are concerned.
English Hospitality.
We can tell you nothing of the hotels of Wolverhampton, but the fourteen of us can highly recommend certain quarters where it was our rare privilege to be honored guests. Whether the English eat and drink more than the Americans may be a debatable question, but they certainly do so oftener. The young ladies quartered at Newbridge reported this the only bar to perfect happiness; they never wanted to leave the garden for meals nor to remain so long at table. As the Prima Donna reported, they "just sound a gong and spring luncheons and teas and suppers on you." The supper is an English institution, even more sacred than the throne, and destined to outlive it. You cannot escape it, and to tell the truth, after a little you have no wish to do so. There is much enjoyment at supper, and in Scotland this is the toddy-time, and who would miss that hour of social glee!
Mention must be made of the private theatricals at Merridale and of the amateur concert at Clifton House, both highly creditable to the talented performers and productive of great pleasure to the guests. I find a programme of the latter and incorporate it as part of the record:
Clifton House, Wolverhampton,
June 29th, 1881.