"cut his weazand," that he cut our company, which he did with the remark," they won't pay any more.' How comfortably every thing is conducted in these English hotels. We have our own parlors, and our own meals. It looks so cosey to see our own good company presiding at the tea-urn, and dispensing the Johnsonian beverage. Of course, the modes here strike us strangely. But as we started out to admire all that is admirable, we must commend the English mode of hotel keeping, with its private parlors and private meals. Every object, even the go-carts, strike a stranger queerly at first. Omnibuses, with nobody inside, and crowded a-top, dash past our windows. Cabs as big as our carriages, like a streak of lightning, dash by with one horse. Horns musically quiver in the fresh morning air. The tall dark houses and clean white paves of Liverpool surround us, while on every side green foliage and twittering birds betoken that love of rural life which the English bring even into their cities. One thing in-doors is noticeable. The sedulous zeal displayed in curtaining out heaven's sun light. It would seem that, with the prodigality of gloomy weather in this isle, as much of the light as possible would be admitted, more especially as a heavy window tax is assessed. But no such thing. Why? Is it a phase of that habitual exclusiveness and love of domestic ease which form so prominent a trait in the English character? We have viewed the city. Its Corinthian elegance of architecture, illustrated especially in the Exchange; excellent police; above all, its magnificent docks, by which the shipping is brought into the city and preserved afloat, notwithstanding the tides bespeak for Liverpool the encomium of the traveller. There are two provisos. The first, beggars, I have named. The other is, the apparent sacrilegious treatment of the buried dead. Would you believe it? The pave to several of the first churches here is over and upon the tombstones of the buried. scriptions are being effaced by the feet of the passenger. Nurses The in with children, men, women, and boys, indiscriminately, tread over the ashes of the departed. In our walk, we noticed Roscoe street-a reminder that Liverpool was the home of the Historian of the Medici. It recalled his splendid descriptions of that age, when Scholarship and Art were beginning to burst the barriers of the dark ages, to herald the new-born civilization which is ours to-day. It also recalled Irving's elegant tribute to the merchant litterateur. You remember how Irving first saw him, entering the Athenæum, with his venerable air-a fine illustration of “ a chance production" disappointing the assiduities of Art, and working out of the busy mart of traffic the glory and the genius of the great Tuscan era. You remember, too, how nobly he bore the loss of his books, and what a noble consolation he found in the closing words of his sonnet, "Mind shall with mind direct communion hold, And kindred spirits meet to part no more." The country lying adjacent to the great railway between Liverpool and London, presents a perfect succession of rural beauties: one sweet continuous garden, divided off into elegant compartments, and dotted with residences of the most exquisite. taste. After passing out of the tunnel from Liverpool, which is cut through the solid rock, and which we performed for a mile and a quarter up an inclined plane, drawn by a stationary engine; after we struck the daylight and the country, a bright greenish green, so green as almost to be yellow, saluted our eyes, albeit unused to any other than sea-green. The meadows all along seemed indeed a carpet, into which were inwoven snow-flakes of daisies, buttercups in profusion, and pansies large and plentiful! Yet the land here is naturally sterile, having a reddish tinge, and as we approach nearer the great metropolis it displays a chalk formation. We are at one moment moving in sight of a beautiful tower upon the hill, surrounded with walks and embowered in leafiness; then past a succession of ivy-covered cottages, thatched with straw, and in themselves, with their streams and parterres, forming a rural landscape. The high gothic chimneys, and the very red of the bricks, give to the towns along the way a very picturesque effect. Nature seems like Cowper's rose, as if just washed in a shower; and so bright, yellow almost, and many-shaded, is the green, that it pleases the eye like an autumnal forest in Ohio. The churches are all perfectly neat; some, elegant gothic buildings. Now and then, a still, hallowing sense of antiquity hovers around these churches and their grave-yards, which we look for in vain at home. How pleasing to see, peeping from their verdurous coverts, these little minsters of heaven! From these, notwithstanding the marriage of Church and State-which cannot be too much abominated-have emanated those salutary influences which are illustrated by the surrounding practical works. From these chapels, honored by a LATIMER, a JEREMY TAYLOR, a HOOKER and a BERKLEY, in the elder time, came forth the power which has transformed the naturally poor soil of England into a garden of cultivation. They have made the ever-sweet hedges, and have constructed these roads which seem like elegant winding garden paths, extending as far as the eye can penetrate, like lines of light in a vast panorama of verdure. We did not observe in all this journey a single sign of poverty. Comfort is impressed every where. In every village and cottage, Plenty appeared rejoicing in her stewardship. In the manufacturing districts through which we passed, the same rural air of neat exactitude and repose was apparent. You could only distinguish these districts by huge piles of coal near the railroad, and the tall chimney stacks lifting themselves out of the level against the sky, and topped with wavy streamers of smoke, which in the distance reminded us of our Liberty poles and flags. Each railway station is a pretty piece of architecture, with its elegant surrounding grounds. There does not seem to be a thing neglected or out of place. As the car dashed from point to point, our surprise was increased. Never through our minds played the like. It resembled a fairy dream, in which each scene seemed "picked out as an example for the best." But while lost in admiration, I have forgotten that the cars have been ruralizing toward the valley of the "royal toward Thames." Our outstretched necks have discerned its winding mist already. Already is the eye peopled dim, with figures of Westminster, the Tower, the Parliament Houses, and above all, the Palace of Crystal! Sure enough here we are in the Depot; and not yet out of the country;-in London, but still it is rus in urbe. We are flanked by terraced gardens and foliage. Robins and thrushes make music, while we rumble to our stopping point. The charms of the day cling like good genii to the last as if determined to impress into our deepest hearts the adoration of England's Bard of Olney, who attuned, years ago, our own spirit. as he sung of him, who looked abroad upon the varied fields, the mountains, the valleys, and the resplendent views of Nature, and by virtue of his filial confidence in the Creator of this delightful scenery, could call it all his own, with a propriety which none could feel, but he who could "Lift to heaven an unpresumptuons eye, And smiling say, 'My Father made it all.'" III. The Brittle Wonder, and a Royal Chase. "A wilderness of building, sinking far And self withdrawn, into a wondrous depth, Wordsworth. HE morning of the 21st of May found us in London, amid THE its coaches, drays, dog-carts, phaetons, choked roads, its whirl of wheels and its war of confused noises. Never was there such a horse and vehicle-loving people as the English; judging by the manifold and multiform vehicles which crowd and clog the thoroughfares. Not alone in Picadilly, the Fleet, Cheapside, and the neighborhood of St. Paul's, where streets have recently been cut through great blocks of houses to give passage to the throngs; but in the less compacted parts of the city, and just now in the neighborhood of Hyde Park, near the Crystal Palace, is there to be found involutions of wondrous perplexity, consisting of cab and carriage, horse and footman, go-cart and poney; but all moving and winding with the precision of machinery, under the unostentatious power of an efficient police. Without that power, what a complexity would London be to a stranger? With it, access is made easy to every point worth seeing. Our first venture abroad was toward the Crystal Palace. Upon our way thither, we passed the famous Apsley House of Wellington, and the great equestrian statue of the Iron Duke. But the one great ornament;-the desire to view which, prompted our journey hitherward, was the Crystal Palace. Well,―our eyes have seen it. But how shall we reproduce its |