LETTERS FROM THE OLD WORLD.

Number XII.

DUNDEE, Jan. 12th, 1856.

MY DEAR FRIEND:—I cannot commence the first letter of the year 1856, without wishing you and your readers a "happy new year," although the usual time for these friendly greetings and reciprocal good wishes has passed away; and already twelve days of the "glad new year" have rolled by to join their predecessors of the years that are gone.

I am, as you will perceive, at "bonnie Dundee"—in the midst of as vigorous, lively, intelligent, and flourishing a community of Anti-Slavery friends as you would desire to see, on either side the Atlantic. I had engaged to meet the Dundee Ladies' Anti-Slavery Committee last Wednesday; but greatly to my disappointment, I was too unwell to travel on the previous day—so had to remain in the care of my ever kind Glasgow friends during Tuesday; their good nursing and the quiet combined to render me more able for the journey on Wednesday. As the day was extremely clear, the scenery thro' which I passed, for the most part very fine, and new to me, and the sun shining brightly on all things, I could not resist the cheering influence of the beautiful pictures that were, in rapid succession, presented to my vision, especially when BEN LOMOND, and his lofty attendants, appeared in sight, crowned with a "diadem of snow." Although centuries have passed since the memorable battle was fought, by the Scots, for freedom—and the "" no longer makes "the harvest grow" finer on the field of BANNOCKBURN, I confess that (silly as some may think it) my heart beat faster when we came to the "Bannockburn station," and I found myself within two miles of the battle site—for space seemed peopled with those gallant heroes of old, whose patriotic deeds have been the theme of songs that will last until love of country shall cease to exist. Soon came we to the town of Stirling, with its Castle-crowned heights—

thence to ""—and onward, through Dunblane, to the beautiful town of Perth. I would feign have explored some of the points of interest in these classic spots; but the , under whose rule I was, proved inexorable to the appeals of romance, and onward was the word—"" was not awaiting me, and the fair Ladies of Dundee were—and soon after two o'clock I was among them, receiving as warm a welcome to their bonnie town and to their homes as you can imagine. People say, "the Scotch are ." "I do not find them so," is my reply.

A quiet afternoon enabled me to enjoy the society of a large company of friends, invited to meet me in the evening. Among them was your old friend, the celebrated Rev. GEORGE GILFILLAN, of whom I have heard you speak so often, and at whose house I had the pleasure of breakfasting this morning. I listened to a Lecture from Mr. Gilfillan in Glasgow, a few weeks ago, which almost electrified me, and gave me a more earnest desire to meet this distinguished man in the social circle—so it was with no small gratification that I heard his name announced as one of the earliest at the party on the first night of my arrival at Dundee. Mr. Gilfillan is as strong an Anti-Slavery man now, as he was when he lent you his church to do battle in some ten years ago. He made many kind enquiries after you, and begged me to remember him kindly when I should be writing to Rochester. I had a pleasant visit with the venerable Christian philosopher, Dr. DICK, on Thursday. He still lives at his old home at Broughty Terry, three miles from Dundee. The weather has been most propitious for a winter traveller, and I much enjoyed my drive along the Banks of the Tay, to Dr. Dick's residence, which stands on the heights, overlooking the expanding Frith of Tay. The infirmities of age are fast coming on the venerable doctor. He is very deaf, and his eye sight is becoming defective. His memory appeared to

me good. He showed me a fine edition of "Webster's Dictionary," recently sent him from the States, and an American edition of his own works. He told me to say to you, that, he "had been looking after you, with much interest, ever since you were in Dundee, and that, he wished you and your cause much prosperity."

On Thursday evening, the Ladies of the Anti-Slavery Society here had a Ladies Soiree, and, at the same time, held the Annual Meeting of their Association. No gentlemen were to be admitted; but so brisk and lively are the Dundee ladies, that I had no fear of Pharaoh's chariot wheels dragging heavily, the absence of the lords of the creation.

Capitally did the Soiree go off—that is, every part that was performed by myself. One hundred ladies were there; after tea, and the usual accompaniments, preliminaries, &c., the Secretary and Treasurer read the Report, in a clear and distinct voice, and wound up all accounts for the past year, announcing donations, &c.—and then I was requested to address them, which I did, to the best of my ability, for about an hour—then fruit, and other refreshments, were introduced—after which I received a hearty shake of the hand and kind word from every lady present—and the meeting separated. For those of us who retain our European prejudices against "Woman's Rights," I think these Ladies' soirees excellent things—that is, when they are managed. The President, Treasurer and Secretary of the Dundee Ladies' Society are all in the cause of the Slave—and while many, who, undoubtedly, to do well in this cause, are hesitating, and deciding, and re-thinking the matter, 'tis done at Dundee in a twinkling, and done, too, in a business-like, systematic manner, and when the voices of the majority of the Committee concur in opinion. Although the gentlemen of Dundee were excluded from the Soiree, it is due to them to state, that I

have, , in Scotland, met more thorough, earnest, and warm-hearted friends of the Slave among the gentlemen, than in bonnie Dundee; and of this they have given me practical proof —indeed the sun has shone on me daily since I entered this brisk and busy little town on the Banks of the Tay; and I would not quit it this evening for the modern Athens itself, but that I have an especial engagement there for Monday morning. I am here the guest of the Rev. Mr. Borwick. To him, and to Mrs. Borwick, I shall always feel grateful, not only for their kind hospitality, but for their ceaseless endeavors to further the especial object of my visit.

I have made so many new friends at Dundee, and received so many kindnesses, that it would be in vain to enumerate. Yet I cannot pass by the United Presbyterian Church without saying that, , as elsewhere, I find the ministers of that Church, and their families, first and foremost in their proffers of sympathy and co-operation in any efforts I am making to advance the cause of the Slave. "Do justice, though the heavens fall," is a fine old motto; and I will give heed to any rumors of the hesitation, of indirectness of any of the ministers of the United Presbyterian Church on this matter of Slavery, until I myself have weighed them in the balances and found them wanting.

EDINBURGH, January 16th,

I have been three times in this beautiful city since I last wrote you—each time my visit has been brief—for on each occasion, engagements in Glasgow (which city is, in truth, my Scottish home) have taken me quickly back there, I met the Committee of the "Edinburgh Ladies' Emancipation Society" on the 3rd January.—I regretted extremely the absence of your old and excellent friend, the President of the Society, who was away from the city, at the deathbed of a beloved sister—and another much

valued and steady friend of yours was absent, from illness in her home. The former lady (Mrs. John Wigham, of Salisbury Road) has now returned to Edinburgh—and a most pleasant visit I had with her and Mr. Wigham yesterday. I hope to see them again soon; but illness in the family is yet keeping them very anxious; and the remembrance of a departed, lovely daughter, who is "," still dims the mourning and sweet mother's eyes with the tear of sorrow. My engagements in Edinburgh have been so many, and my introductions so numerous, that I have not yet seen more than the of Holyroad Palace. The week before last we had three days incessant rain here, and I ascended Carlton Hill, for the first time, in the midst of it.— As I sat in the drawing room windows of Carlton Terrace, I could only imagine the view must be on a clear, bright day—for in truth, we had a Glasgow, rainy fog outdone! I went to Glasgow on the 4th to see the presentation of the freedom of the city to the Earl of Elgin.

The ceremony took place in the City Hall, at one o'clock. The Hall was crowded in every part by a highly respectable audience. The Lord Provost occupied the chair, and read a good address, (evidently prepared with great care for the occasion.) containing a review of Lord Elgin's public life, commencing with his Governorship of Jamaica, and closing with a sketch of his administration in Canada.

At the close of this speech, "the Burgess Ticket" (as it is called) was read by the Town Clerk; it was then placed in a beautifully chased silver box, and handed to the Earl by the Lord Provost.

When Lord Elgin rose to reply he was well nigh overwhelmed with applause—indeed, there was every appearance of his being a very popular man in Glasgow. His speech was an able one—nay, more than that, it was a masterly production; but time and space will not permit me to to tell you about it. His Lordship has a clear and sonorous voice, and he was heard in every part of the large Hall, and applauded rapturously, ever and anon. Before closing, he "," (as my American friends say,) in regard to Eastern affairs.— "My opinion," said he, "I can easily state, and I have no hesitation in avowing it. I say, that now we are in the war, we must fight it out, like men. I don't say throw away the scabbard to begin with, because I dislike all violent measures; but say, that, having drawn the sword, we must not sheathe it, until the purpose for which it was drawn is accomplished." The war is still very popular with the masses.— "Wait till the comes," (said a lovely "" lady to me yesterday,) "and see whether it will continue popular then."

The fine organ in the City Hall pealed forth "," and "," by turns, in due martial style. So closed the presentation of the freedom of Glasgow to the noble benefactor of Canada—and the same evening I was at a party in Edinburgh. How rapidly these railroads permit us to flit about!

On the following Monday, I attended a Committee at two, and went to Glasgow the same evening to be present at a party; but some of my wise friends think I have been flying about too rapidly—and I am inclined to agree with them, as I have been very unwell more than once of late—so I have resolved to take things more quietly. On reaching Glasgow last week, the sad news awaited me there of the death of another of my dearest and oldest friends—one who was as near perfection as fallible human nature can be, and whose "sun has gone down, while it was yet noon."

"Friend after friend departs;
Who hath not lost a friend?
There is no union here of hearts
That finds not here an end!"

"Thus star by star declines,
Till all are passed away;
As morning high and higher shines
To pure and perfect day;
Nor sink those stars in empty night,
But hide themselves in heav'n's own light."

I heard the closing sermon of the old year preached by the Rev. John Ker, who is considered by many to be the best preacher in Glasgow. "When a few years are come," (was the text,) "then I shall go the way whence I shall not return." It was a sermon that could not easily be forgotten—and most appropriate to the season, when the year is taking its flight, to join all that is past, and the year is yet on the threshold, stretching out into futurity, as it seems to some of us, to an almost interminable distance. A great many celebrated people departed this life during the year '55 —the good Sir William Molesworth—the honest and upright Sir Robert Harry Inglis—the musical Sir Henry Bishop—the financier Joseph Hume Lockhart, of the Quarterly—the gentle Miss Milford—the highly gifted Currer Bell— the eccentric Col. Sibthorpe—and the accomplished traveller, James Silk Buckingham, were among the number.

You probably remember that in Presbyterian Scotland, there is no regular keeping of Christmas. The shopes are not closed on Christmas day, and their is no holiday. Family parties, and presents, chiefly stand over to day, which is a very general holiday, and time of merry making. On old year's night, I tasted the famous Scotch dish, "," for the first time, and was present at a large and

merry party on New Year's day. We had Scotch music in abundance, and happy little children enjoying themselves to their heart's content, and laughing as merrily as I have seen children laugh in more Southern quarters of the world. It is a great mistake to call the Scotch a dull, cold, and phlegmatic people. They are nothing of the kind, and are only said to be so by those who, perhaps, have seen little of them, or who have imbibed a silly prejudice against them.

I had a great treat in Glasgow lately, in visiting of Pictures. A good friend of mine had several times told me I must see this gallery; but not knowing who the artists were, nor anything about the collection, I did not feel particularly eager to go, and was taken quite by surprise by the gems of art that met my view when I entered the three beautiful rooms that compose this Picture Gallery. One room is appropriated entirely to the Flemish and Dutch Pictures; the centre hall is occupied by Italian Pictures; and the third room is occupied by Spanish, Neapolitan and French Pictures. In addition to this magnificent collection, generously bequeathed by Mr. McLellan to the city of Glasgow, there are some exquisite paintings, belonging to the Earl of Elgin and to Sir Archibald Campbell, also on exhibition there; and my eyes feasted themselves on the works of , , , , , , ., so as they had not done since I visited the at Munich. A , by Guido, is one of the finest Pictures I ever beheld.

Thus far, and not a word about the Anti-Slavery Bazaar, held in Glasgow in December. As usual on these occasions, the weather was most unfavorable, The rain poured down in torrents most of the time, and consequently the visitors were not as numerous as they would have been under clearer skies.

This is a confused letter. It begins in Dun-dee, and ought to have been sent off by the last mail, but I had not time to finish it.

I regret to be compelled, ere I close, to speak of the grievous murdering of my 9th letter, by
the printers. I am made to say most ridiculous things, and and the are also sadly misrepresented. It is useless to make corrections so long after date—or I would say that the inscription on Knox's monument was written by a Glasgow , (not "")—that

"affection's semblance not,"

(instead of ";") and again, in the quotation from "the Cotter's Saturday night"—

"He who bore, the second name, Had not, on earth, whereon to lay his head,"

instead of the quotation,

"He who bore, , the second name,
Had not, on earth, whereon to lay his head."

I trust that my friends in Frederick Douglass' office, will be more careful, and not mortify me, and my friends here with a repetition of such blunders. "Thin foreign post paper," some of them may, perchance, cry out—but with such large writing as this, there can be no rea-sonable complaint on their part. In the hope of being able to write more promptly in future, I remain,

Yours, right truly,

JULIA GRIFFITHS.