Meanwhile, in his own town, as people with moist eyes and glad hearts listened to the bells of freedom, they said one to another: Whittier is writing a poem! Thus was “Laus Deo!” born. XXII When George MacDonald came to America upon his lecture tour and brought with him his wife and son, he consented to give his lecture in Amesbury, although the lecture committee there could by no means pay him his price. But the fact that Whittier had invited him while in Amesbury to be his guest more than compensated for the meagerness of financial rewards. In truth, it was often the case that the hospitality of the poet compensated for the poverty of the lecture bureau, and the Amesbury lyceum had speakers of far higher ability than its own funds could have supplied. MacDonald’s lecture was most interesting, and simply delivered in his fascinating Scottish accent. In the evening a deputation from the Scottish Club of Amesbury came to him in the poet’s home, bringing Whittier’s complete works to present to the poet and novelist of their native land. Whittier’s welcome and the Scottish poet’s delight made the event a “red-letter day” to the Club. But when the two poets were at last alone together, they must have spent a memorable time; they had in common an untraveled world of sympathy; yet they were different. The spiritual world is MacDonald’s world and his heroes are ideal rather than weighted with the weaknesses and foibles of human nature. But Whittier tells us of reality--the reality in the natural and in the spiritual world, for in both of these he lived. His poems are no dreams, but actualities seen upon the heights of life. His men and women are those whom we daily meet, but with the veil which for most of us is upon their hearts drawn aside, giving us wonderful glimpses into the holy of holies. It was not strange that the two poets had much to say to each other, and that afterward Whittier remarked of his guest; “There is no man in England whom I should have been more glad to meet than George MacDonald.” * * * * * In connection with this visit occurred an incident characteristic both of Whittier and of his niece, afterward Mrs. Pickard, who herself told it to the writer. The poet received many very beautiful gifts, some of which this niece while keeping his house would put about in the rooms, that visitors also might enjoy them. But Whittier’s native abhorrence of ostentation, together with his Quaker simplicity, did not approve of this display, and the gifts would be relegated to their hiding-places. Over and over would she try the experiment, and always with the same result, although occasionally, her uncle would not immediately notice the ornaments and so they would hold their own for a few days; but only to disappear in the end. Thus the game would go on and neither would mention the subject to the other.