We tried to cheer him up, and my husband's serene philosophy seemed to do him good. He repeated to Paul Rajon his usual comparison of the events of life to a very good cup of coffee to which a pinch of salt is always added before we are allowed to taste it. "Your reputation and talent," he said, "make a capital cup of coffee; but your illness has seasoned it with rather a heavy pinch of salt."
The journey to England was got through without any serious accident to my husband's health, but we had to be very careful in adhering to our rules of slow trains and night travelling and frequent stoppages.
It was the first visit of our daughter to England, and her father watched her impressions with great interest. She spoke English timidly and reluctantly; but Mrs. Seeley was so kindly encouraging that she overcame her timidity.
Mr. Seeley received us in his pretty, newly built house at Kingston, which, being quite in the country and very quiet, suited my husband's tastes admirably. The proximity of a beautiful park was very tempting for rambles, and when at leisure we much enjoyed going all together for a stroll under its noble trees. Mr. Seeley and his friend sometimes went off to London together in the morning, but it was more desirable for my husband to go to town only in the afternoon, because he felt less and less nervous as the day wore on, and was quite himself in the evening.
We left Kingston to go and stay for a few days with Mr. and Mrs. Macmillan. The evenings after Mr. Macmillan's return from business were very animated with conversation and music.
Sometimes Mr. Macmillan gave us some Scotch and Gaelic songs with remarkable pathos and power; and invariably, after every one else had retired, he remained talking intimately, often confidentially, with my husband far into the night.
A pretty incident occurred before we left Knapdale. One afternoon we found Mrs. Macmillan very busy putting the finishing touches to an embroidered and be-ribboned baby's frock, intended as a present to her husband's first grandchild, on his first visit to Knapdale, which was to be on that very day. After dinner the little man made his appearance in the decorated frock, and took his place upon his grandfather's shoulders. Then we all formed a procession, headed by the still erect form of the grandsire supporting the infant hope of the family, and leading us—parents, relatives, and guests—to the cheerful domain of the cook. She proudly received the company, standing ladle in hand, by an enormous earthen vessel containing a tempting mixture, in which candied fruits, currants, and spices seemed to predominate. We were expected, every one, to bring this medley to greater perfection by turning over a portion of it with the ladle. It was duly offered first to the little stranger, whose grandsire seized and plunged it into the savory depths, whilst the tiny baby hand was tenderly laid upon his own.
The second part of the ceremony—tasting—had likewise to be performed by proxy, for the young scion of the house peremptorily refused to trifle with any temptation in the form of mincemeat. We all in succession performed the ancient rite, and my husband said to me afterwards what a capital subject for a picture of family portraits the scene would afford. The contrast in the attire of the cook and her maids with the toilettes of the ladies, together with the picturesque background of the bright kitchen utensils, made a subject in the style of an old Dutch master, with a touch of modern sentiment.
After seeing different places on the banks of the Thames we decided again for Kew, but this time we required larger lodgings—not only on account of Mary, but also for Miss Susan Hamerton and our cousins, Ben and Annie Hinde, whom we had invited to join us there. They had gladly accepted the invitation, and our meeting was happy and cheerful. We had been very fortunate in our lodgings, which were spacious, clean, and with a good view of the Green. Our landlady was a very respectable and obliging person, and she let us have, when we wished, the use of a chaise and a fast-trotting little pony, which greatly added to Aunt Susan's enjoyment of the country, for her nephew drove her to the prettiest places in the neighborhood, and through Richmond Park whenever the weather allowed it. The beautiful gardens received almost a daily visit from us, and were a most agreeable as well as a convenient resort for our aged aunt, as she could either walk in the open grounds when it was mild enough, or else visit the numerous hot-houses if she found the outside air too keen for her.
We had been fortunate in this choice of Kew for our temporary residence; not only did we like the place in itself, but we met with so hospitable and flattering a reception from several resident families, that they contrived to make us feel unlike strangers among them, and ever after, our thoughts turned back to that time with mingled feelings of regret, pleasure, and gratitude; and whenever we came to contemplate the possibility of moving to England, Kew was always the place named as being preferred by both of us.