Mrs. Train called to see me before she went to town
[London], and Mr. Hawthorne and I went back with her to the Adelphi,
and walked on to see a very magnificent stone building, called St.
George's Hall. It is not quite finished; and as far as the mist would
allow me to see, it was sumptuous. . . . We have strawberries as large
as small peaches, one being quite a feast, and fine raspberries. The
head of the Waterloo House, Mr. Lynn, is a venerable-looking person,
resembling one's idea of an ancient duke,--dressing with elaborate
elegance, and with the finest ruffled bosoms. Out of peculiar respect
to the Consul of the United States, he comes in at the serving of the
soup, and holds each plate while I pour the soup, and then, with great
state, presents it to the waiter to place before each person. After
this ceremony he retires with a respectful obeisance. This homage
diverts Mr. Hawthorne so much that I am afraid he will smile some day.
The gravity of the servants is imperturbable. One, Mr. Hawthorne calls
our Methodist preacher. The service is absolutely perfect. Your
affectionate child,
SOPHIA.
The Brights, especially Henry Bright, appear frequently in the
"Note-Books," and their names occur very often in my mother's letters.
The young Oxford graduate I remember most distinctly. He was thin,
and so tall that he waved like a reed, and so shining-eyed that his
eyes seemed like icebergs; they were very prominent. His nose was one
of your English masterpieces,--a mountainous range of aristocratic
formation; and his far-sweeping eyebrows of delicate brown, his red,
red lips and white doglike teeth, and his deeply cleft British chin
were a source of fathomless study.
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