Such abuse of the good President as there is, is sickening. I hope those who vilify him for doing what he considers his duty have a quarter of his conscience and uprightness. He is a brave man. . . . He wrote Mr. Hawthorne that he had no hope of being popular during the first part of his administration at least. He can be neither bribed, bought, nor tempted in his political course; he will do what he thinks constitutional and right, and find content in it. . . . I wish our Senators had as good manners as the noble lords of Parliament. But we are perfect savages in manners as yet, and have no self-control, nor reverence. The dignity and serenity of maturer age will, I trust, come at last to us. . . . I never dreamed of putting myself into a picture, because I am not handsome enough. But I will endeavor that you have Mr. Hawthorne and Rosebud, some time or other. Mr. Hawthorne looks supremely handsome here; handsomer than anybody I see; every other face looks coarse, compared; and his air and bearing are far superior to those of any Englishman I have seen. The English say that they should suppose he were an Englishman--till he speaks. This is a high compliment from the English. They look at him as much as they can, covertly; as much as they can without being uncivil and staring, as if they wanted to assure themselves that he really were so wondrous handsome. He does not observe this; but it is nuts to me, and / observe it. The lofty, sumptuous apartments become him very much. I always thought he was born for a palace, and he shows that he was. We have had some delightful experiences, and have seen some interesting people, some literary celebrities, and beautiful English life within jealous stone walls, draped with ivy inside. We see why comfort is an essentially English word, and we understand Shakespeare and all the old poets properly now we are on the scene. CHAPTER X ENGLISH DAYS: II DOUGLAS, MONA, July 18.