The rain, to be sure, was quite
sufficient to damp any joyous ebullition of feeling; but the next day,
when the rain had ceased, and when the streets were still thronged with
people, there was the same heavy, purposeless strolling from place to
place, with no more alacrity of spirit than while it rained. The English
do not know how to rejoice; and, in their present circumstances, to say
the truth, have not much to rejoice for. We soon came home; but I
believe it was nearly, if not quite, eleven.
At Mrs. Blodgett's, Mr. Archer (surgeon to some prison or house of
correction here in Liverpool) spoke of an attorney who many years ago
committed forgery, and, being apprehended, took a dose of prussic acid.
Mr. Archer came with the stomach-pump, and asked the patient how much
prussic acid he had taken. "Sir," he replied, attorney-like, "I decline
answering that question!" He recovered, and afterwards arrived at great
wealth in New South Wales.
November 14th.--At dinner at Mr. Bright's, a week or two ago, Mr.
Robertson Gladstone spoke of a magistrate of Liverpool, many years since,
Sir John ------. Of a morning, sitting on the bench in the police court,
he would take five shillings out of his pocket and say, "Here, Mr. Clerk,
so much for my fine. I was drunk last night!" Mr. Gladstone witnessed
this personally.
November 16th.--I went to the North Hospital yesterday, to take the
deposition of a dying man as to his ill treatment by the second and third
mates of the ship Assyria, on the voyage from New Orleans.
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