LETTERS FROM THE OLD WORLD—NO. VI.

CHEETHAM HILL, Sept. 22nd, 1855.

MY DEAR FRIEND:—I am again in the midst of a circle, composed of some of your warmest English friends—and of some of the most devoted and indefatigable friends of the Anti-Slavery cause. You will already have anticipated me, in my reference to the family of MORRIS; for you will remember that, in their drawing-room, the Manchester Anti-Slavery Society was formed. You will also readily imagine the warmth of the welcome that awaited me here, and how fast we all talked round the fire on the first night of my arrival in Manchester! I left our much-loved friends at Duffield on Monday last, having spent a most delightful week with them in their sweet retreat on the banks of the Derwent. If I had had time at command, I should have given more of it to exploring the beauties of Derbyshire, as well as to the enjoyment of the highly congenial society there. We had driving excursions, riding

excursions, and walking excursions. We climbed the glorious hills, and descended into the fertile valleys; and many times we wished you could have joined us in these charming expeditions. One day I drove our dear invalid friend, M. E., seven miles in a poney chaise; her devoted husband bearing as company on foot, lest any mischief should befall us. This beloved friend feels keenly her inability to make active exertions on behalf of her Anti-Slavery newspaper; (need I name it?) and her sweet little girl (one year old) sends six pairs of beautiful silk socks for the Rochester Bazaar. I am enclined to think she will be the contributor. I went to the pretty little village church of Duffield on Sunday, and greatly enjoyed the service; but the sermon (from the text, ") was neither in accordance with my taste, nor my principles. One day, while I was staying at Duffield, a "," from Philadelphia, dined with us. Of course, he professed to be AntiSlavery; but sorely was I grieved to hear him advocate MILLARD FILLMORE, as a fitting man for the next President. I bit my lips, and listened to the eulogy, until I could hold my peace no longer; and then out came a sermon—text "The Fugitive Slave Bill." If I were rude, I really could not help it; it was most painful to me to see a kind-hearted and intelligent man, wearing a chess which is a badge of philanthropy the world over, standing forth the champion of him who, at one time, held the destinies of unoffending thousands in his hand, and who signed an edict, which surrendered them to the

fell grasp of the destroyer.

It would have been very hard work to say good-bye to my Derbyshire friends, but that I have promised to visit them again, on my way from the north.

"Sweet valley of Duffield! how calm could I rest
In thy bosom of shade, with the friends I love best,
Where the storms that we feel in this cold world
should cease,
And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in
peace."

My journey to Manchester was extremely agreeable. Instead of going by railroad, I was advised, by my friends, to travel outside the mail coach, which passes through Matlock, Bakewell, and Buxton, and amid the finest scenery of Derbyshire. Indeed, the ride is called the finest in England. The weather was charming, (,) though in the early morning, the hills were partially obscured by mists; towards noon, these rolled away, and I saw "the Heights of Abraham," and "the High Tor," without a shadow. We passed near old Haddon Hall, of which I had an excellent view. The meandering kept us company for many miles—and then the was our travelling companion, ( the famous , but a less known Eastern brother.) At the most romantic part of our journey, one of my travelling companions opened a case, and drew forth a newly invented musical instrument, called the "," and for some hours I listened to some of the sweetest music I ever heard. You will not wonder that amidst such scenes and sounds the journey did not seem a long one; that the

dingy, manufacturing town of Stockport came upon us even before we expected it; and that we were in the heart of the city of Manchester, loyal Manchester, with its hundreds of flags flying, and banners waving, at the close of a short day's ride. It was as I entered Manchester, that I first and that SEBASTOPOL WAS TAKEN. The week is flying rapidly, and on Monday I am bound for Glasgow. I heard of a death last night that I did not expect to hear. The great "North of England. and Manchester Anti-Slavery League," (I really forget all its titles,) is no more!! I have not yet learned of what complaint it died, nor what its age was, nor how many mourners it had, nor to whom it left its property. Suffice it to say, all the flourish of trumpets at its inauguration, it "sleeps in the shade."

LANGSIDE, ,

Yes! I am really in Scotland, and can now, for the first time, sing, bail, "" You, who are such an ardent admirer of Burns, will fully sympathize with me in the mental excitement I was in, when I crossed the dividing stream which separates England from Scotland, and found my foot pressing, for the first time, the native earth of Wallace, and of "Bruce of Bannockburn"—of Burns and Campbell—of the gude Sir Walter Scott and Wilson—of Chalmers and Wardlaw. I do not wonder the ardent love of country that burns so vividly in the bosom of every worthy son of Scotia— for would not be proud of a country—a country, that has sent forth

some of the most brilliant lights of the world—a country, whose theologians, philosophers, historians, poets, and novelists, stand in the foremost ranks of their kind—have rarely been equalled, and excelled—a country, the achievements of whose mighty dead, tell of her struggles for independence and liberty, and whose living voice has ever testified against oppression.

"Yes! in that generous cause, for ever strong,
The patriot's virtue, and the poet's song,
Still, as the tide of ages rolls away,
Shall charm the world, unconscious of decay."

I pity the man whose spirit does not stir within him on entering Scotland.

I have now been in Glasgow (or rather at Langside) eight days; the weather has been quite too unfavorable for me to visit Loch Lomond, or any other of the neighboring beauties of scenery—only on two days have I seen the sun—and Scottish mist is far more prevalent than is desirable for a traveller. I am disappointed with the city of Glasgow, and much struck with the massive character of the buildings, both public and private; the stone fronts of the houses present an imposing appearance, and the architecture is, for the most part, fine. Glasgow, seen under a bright, blue, American sky, would look magnificent. Perhaps it is truly said of us, islanders of Great Britain, that, when , we are continually

grumbling at our climate, and when , we are always complaining of every thing else. I feel very self-complacent at grumbling at the climate just now, for I have a terrible attack of influenza—such an one as I never once knew during my six years' sojourn in the States.—This influenza is an attendant I could well have dispensed with, for I am out visiting, nearly all day and every day, and making an attempt to be agreeable, which is altogether impossible, when accompanied by such a string of evils as cold, cough, sore throat, hoarseness, face ache, &c., &c. My good friends at Langside bear with me beautifully, and make me so entirely one of the family, that it is difficult for me to believe I have not known them all my life.

I met "" on the 25th. It was particularly pleasant for me, not only to receive a cordial welcome to Glasgow from these new friends; but to meet my dear and much valued Toronto friends, Rev. Dr. and Mrs. Willis, with the Committee. I need scarcely say that, our being at the same time in Glasgow, renders my visit doubly agreeable. The Doctor has, most kindly, consented to deliver an anti-slavery lecture in the church of the

late Dr. Wardlaw, one evening next week.

In according to the wish, expressed by yourself and many other of my American friends, that I would give from time to time, a sketch of my journeyings, I desired to avoid all controversial matters; but as I have been asked, again and again, since I came to this city, whether I believe it right to work with those who are not for the abolition of Slavery? and as the same question was put to me in Manchester, I shall not hesitate, thus publicly, to state the ground on which I stand in this matter.

I hold myself ready, at all times, to co-operate with Jews, Hindoos, infidels, or heretics, for the abolition of Slavery—provided the members of the Society, composed of these diverse materials, consent, unanimously, to keep to the subject for which we unite, and to bring in their peculiar religious, or -religious opinions on the anti-slavery platform. Daniel O'Connell and Lord Brougham could unite there. No two men (I look upon it) ever did greater service to the cause of Freedom than they—no two men ever fulminated more fierce anathemas against oppression than they—they were never known (when pleading for the slave) to thrust before an anti-slavery audience their own peculiar views, about the , or transubstantiation, the authenticity of the Scriptures, or the Sabbath, although the former was known to be a rigid Roman Catholic, and the latter is known to have peculiar theological views. I have given this subject a great deal of attention, and feel perfectly satisfied that the conclusion at

which I have arrived, is as far removed from bigotry, as from latitudinarianism. It is not for us to arraign men for their religious opinions—"Who art that judgest another? to his own master he standeth or falleth"—but, on the other hand, while the great truths of Christianity are momentous as the truths of Anti-Slavery. I can give no countenance to those who seek, on the Anti-Slavery platform, to those great and glorious principles which, if carried into practice, would long, ere this, have regenerated the world, and have caused Slavery, and all its attendant wrongs and ills, to have passed away.

It was very pleasant to find so many trans-Atlantic letters awaiting me in Glasgow. My dear juvenile correspondents will please accept my thanks for their welcome letters, and expect a few lines by the next mail. The dear friends in Canada, New York, and Rochester, to whom I promised to write when I bade them farewell, must forgive my not having done so. I am travelling, visiting, and talking, perpetually, except when sleeping. I remember them all with affection.

I am ashamed of the haste manifested in this. I shall look anxiously for the results of the Colored Convention in Philadelphia. My best wishes attend the many dear and valued friends who will be then assembled.

Very truly yours,

JULIA GRIFFITHS.