The following Sabbath I attended the chapels of the Wesleyans at Woodstock and Bladen, and in the evening had the pleasure of saying a word to my old Bladen associates, in the prayer-meeting. After receiving the utmost kindness, hospitality and evidences of friendship from my family and friends, I took leave of them forever. Many of the neighbors, with my mother, accompanied me to Woodstock. There I wished her adieu, and when the coach whirled away, she stood following us with her eyes, the last of the company, until a projection of the park wall hid us from each other. Who could forbear a tear in such a moment? I could not, and therefore suffered the big drops to roll down my cheeks at will. There is a luxury in such grief. That evening beheld us rolling through Hyde Park into the city of London, where I tarried a few days with my brother, by whom I was very cordially entertained. Here also I found several cousins, in prosperous circumstances whose kindness contributed not a little to my enjoyment. Having visited St. Paul’s, the Museum, Madame Tussaud’s magnificent collection of wax figures, and other curious and remarkable places, I took a trip to Walthamstow, the former residence of my aunt Turner. This good lady was dead, and almost forgotten by the people; her twenty-two children were all either dead or wandering, the neighbors knew not whither. Alas for the mutations of time! A walk of two miles farther on, brought us to Wanstead, my birth-place. Here everything seemed natural, though great changes had passed over the people since I lived there, a thoughtless child. My common school teacher and my Sunday school teacher had gone to their spiritual destiny. My aunt was yet alive. My brother asked her if she knew me. Peering through her spectacles, and summoning up the imagery of the past, she at length called to mind her former protégé, and clasped me to her arms, with evident gratification. It occasions melancholy feeling to see the ravages of time on the persons and places one has not visited for years! After a hasty visit to that noble home for the worn-out sailor at Greenwich, and a glance at the arsenal at Woolwich, I returned to London.