I spoke in my note from Halifax of Mr. Crampton, and a gentleman whom
I thought his attached Mr. Crampton we lost at Halifax, but the
supposed attache remained; and I was glad, for he was the most
interesting person in the steamer. We in vain tried to discover his
name, but at last found it to be Field Talfourd, brother of Sir Thomas
Talfourd, author of "Ion." I had very charming conversations with him.
He was a perfect gentleman, with an ease of manner so fascinating and
rare, showing high breeding, and a voice rich and full. Whenever he
spoke, his words came out clear from the surrounding babble and all
the noise of the ship, so that I could always tell where he was. He is
one of the primitive men, in contradistinction to the derivative (as
Sarah Clarice once divided people). He seemed never at a loss on any
subject soever; and when the passengers were trying feats of skill and
physical prowess to pass the time, I saw Mr. Talfourd exhibit
marvelous power as a gymnast in performing a feat which no one else
would even attempt. His education was all-sided, body and mind,
apparently; and, with all, this charm of gentlemanliness,--not very
often met with in America. It seems to require more leisure and a
deeper culture than we Americans have yet, to produce such a lovely
flower. . . .
July 19. We all have colds now, except Mr. Hawthorne, with whom
earth's maladies have nothing to do. Julian and Una are homesick for
broad fields and hilltops.
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