Do I not pleasantly remember the jolly haymaking, when old Jerdan, calling out, "More hay, more hay!" covered Grace Greenwood with a haycock overturned, and had greeted a sculptor guest appropriately and wittily enough with "Here we are, Durham, all mustered!" the "we" being besides others, Camilla Toulmin, George Godwin, and Francis Bennoch?
Do I not remember how much surprised we were at the melodies whereof an old piano was capable when touched by Otto Goldsmidt?
Can I forget, also, how marvellously a young Canadian, Joseph Macdougall, of Ottawa, extemporised on the same piano as only a genius can (Mr.Assher was another), and sent me afterwards, as a memory, a vast volume of American photographs, whereof he had munificently prepaid the enormous sum of L6, 18s.

for postage?
And was not our village stirred to its depths by the visit to Albury House of two black gentlemen and a blue,--all in evening dress?
It was President Roberts of Monrovia, attended by his secretary and chief minister; for they came cordially to return thanks to one who had helped a little in slave emancipation, under the influences of Elliott Cresson, Dr.Hodgkin Garrison, and others,--and, moreover, had given a gold medal for African literature, biennially to be competed for by emancipated slaves;--whereof I have heard very little, since (by the volunteered assistance of Mr.Taylor, the seal engraver) I gave it many years ago: the medal was as large as a crown piece.

President Benson, also of Liberia, a magnificent ebon specimen of humanity, visited me with his staff, not long before his lamented death--it was said, by murder.
Let me add now a word of kindly memory for some good friends long gone to a better world, but once welcome guests at Albury.

There was Benjamin Nightingale, the enthusiastic antiquary; there was his _fidus Achates_, Akerman, secretary to the Numismatic, whom I greatly pleased by enabling him to catch a trout near my carriage gate; there was Chief Baron Pollok, head of the Noviomagians: the eloquent Edwards Lester of America, whose speech at a Literary Fund dinner to which I had treated him was hailed by Hallam, Dickens, and others on the spot as _the_ speech of the Society: and the Warrens of Troy, N.Y., about whose casual visit this singular thing happened.

For the first and only time in life I had had the strange luck to catch at Netley Pond three perch of nearly a pound each, and a fine trout of about two: I little knew then the final cause thereof: in those days we could not easily get fish in the country, unless indeed we caught it: now my eminent Transatlantic stranger friends came on a Friday, and proved to be Roman Catholics: could any piscatorial luck have been more timely?
When a few days after I told of my sport to a neighbour (it was Captain Russell of the Cleveland family), a great angler, he, of course, without imputation of my veracity, hinted that he wished I might have such luck again, as he would then come and dine with me.