LONDON, June 27th, 1867.
—Nevy and I went to an S.P.G. service at the Abbey and heard Dean Magee again. It was a grand torrent of eloquence ; he stumbled over his words from the very overflow of them, and yet his burning thoughts seemed to outrun them. His gesticulation is so admirable that it makes his little ugly figure impressive ; he pushed the cassock-sleeves as far back as they would go as if to give himself freedom. His voice wonderful. Drove to Heal's to buy a washhand-stand for Charles whom we have actually encamped in one of the pretty bright rooms that we hoped to see gladdened with faces of our little children.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment