Garstang, between Lancaster and Preston, at that time enjoyed the peculiar distinction of having a Mayor and capital burgesses without its having been constituted a borough. Here he was entertained at a sumptuous repast, and the streets were full of people, the church scholars, drawn up in line, cheering the flag and its bearer as they passed. The streets of Preston were lined with spectators; at Chorley cheers were given for the Queen and President Grant; and at Bolton the flag-bearer was presented with a pair of clogs, and given a live turtle-dove to take back with him to the American President. He was almost carried by an eager, applauding crowd along Bradshawgate on his way to Manchester, and the _Bolton Evening News_ of the 14th of November, 1872, records that “there was more hand-shaking than we have ever seen bestowed on any person. Far from insult, every respect was shown to the flag of the great Republic, and,” the newspaper facetiously adds, “if the bearer is rewarded all along his journey as he was at Farnworth, his pockets will be filled with the metal that makes the mare to go.” CHAPTER XXI Sergeant Bates’s journey finishes in London amid a remarkable demonstration--His gift to Madame Tussaud’s. In this chapter we conclude the story of the gallant sergeant’s historic march with the American flag from Gretna Green to London. At Bolton he was presented with a piece of silver-plate, and a pedestrian gave him a pocket-knife; but this gift was followed immediately afterwards by a letter in which the writer said that as the giving of a sharp instrument was regarded as a bad omen and portended to cut friendship, he asked Sergeant Bates to forward a penny stamp in the enclosed envelope in order that the knife might be _sold_ and not given. The penny stamp was sent. Five miles from Cottonopolis Bates was met by a man who had been a lieutenant in the 24th Massachusetts Volunteers during the Civil War, who took off his hat and said, “God bless our flag.” Manchester was reached on the 14th of November, and here the flag had an immense reception, the crowd in Market Street being so dense that the open carriage which the sergeant was obliged to enter could scarcely make headway. Lodged at the Royal Hotel, he was presented with a Union Jack, and was pestered by several enterprising showmen, one of whom offered him as much as £60 a night for five weeks if he would only consent to lend himself and the flag; but this he resolutely declined to do. From Manchester to Macclesfield he met with a repetition of the same hearty ovations. The crowd kept slapping him on the shoulders, shaking hands, slipping money into his pockets, hurrahing, singing, and even dancing with joy before the glorious old flag.