compliment to the anniversary of the king's coming to the throne. In our country, it would have been the discharge of cannon. But I prefer the merry bells. What a singular language of rejoicing is the thunder of those death-dealing engines! I suppose it is the noise that recommends this method; just as a barbarian king gets a great drum, or gong, to make a great noise, because he knows of no other way of testifying joy. How much fitter would it be, on a birthday anniversary, to have a band of musicians pass through the streets and in the public places, playing appropriate airs, martial or patriotic !

The thing I admired most in Liverpool was the new cemetery, with the chapel for the burial service. It was formerly a quarry of freestone; and was dug to the depth of a hundred feet I should think, so that it is quite retired and secluded, though streets and houses are around it. The chapel is on the elevated ground at the entrance, level with the street; and not far distant, is the parsonage or rectory occupied by the officiating clergyman, who enjoys a handsome salary from the board of aldermen.

The brick of which the city is mostly built, is of the ugliest description, resembling what we call fire brick, and is besides so begrimed with smoke,

that the city presents a very dingy and dismal

appearance.

One of the first things that strikes the American stranger as he lands on the shores of the Old World, is the attention and deference he receives from those classes of the people whose business it is to minister to his comfort-from innkeepers, proprietors, and drivers of coaches, waiters, porters, &c., servants of all descriptions-from those, in short, the breath of whose life is in the civility of their manners. It is a strong bond for civil behaviour doubtless, this necessity of getting a livelihood, and especially in countries where a livelihood is hard to come by; and it may cause civility to degenerate in servility: still were it not to be wished that something of the manner at least could be learned in our country? Not that any class among us should entertain a sense of its relation to any other class, that would be degrading to it; the very contrary. There is nothing that is more incompatible with a just self-respect, than the manners of a churl. No man really respects himself who is guilty of discourtesy to others. The waiter who brings me my dinner, and stands behind my chair while I eat it, very commonly shows in his frank and easy bearing, as much self-respect as I myself can feel. And the coachman who, when I ask him to give

me a seat on the box with him, touches his hat as he answers, seems to me a far more respectable person than the stage driver of our country, who often answers with a surly indifference, as if he did not care whether you sat there, or sat anywhere at all. Both the coachman and the waiter are looking to you for a gratuity, it is true, in payment for their attentions. But it is a fair compact; and degrading to neither party. And for my part, I am as willing to pay for civility as for my dinner. One would like to buy not only his dinner, but some reasonable chance of digesting it; and that is hard to do when one has to digest slovenliness, negligence, and ill manners besides.

CHESTER, JULY 2. It is so cold to-day, that I have ridden with a surtout and India-rubber greatcoat over it, and have been scarcely comfortable. To be sure, it was on the outside of the coach-the only side, for my part, that I ever wish to see. The hand of prescription is heavy upon many things in England, small as well as great; they do here as their fathers did, in far more respects than we do. At least this is the only reason I can see, why they build in the centre of the coach a small, confined, dark box, with the curtains obstinately fastened down, and cushioned indeed, so that they are never rolled up even in the hottest day of summer; and in

addition to this inconvenience, the only chance of seeing the country is a loophole view through the window.

There are few sensations more agreeable-I believe I am nearly repeating Johnson—than those with which one sets off on an excursion of a fine morning, seated on the top of an English stage coach; the horses clothed in plated harness, burnished to the brightness of gold; the guard, seated on the back part of the coach, taking all care of baggage off your hands, and at the same time regaling your ears with a lively strain of music from his bugle; and the coachman-truly he deserves a separate paragraph. No mortal charioteer ever gave one such a sense of security-such a well-fed, well-dressed, respectable-looking person is he, as he steps forth, amid attendant lackeys and horseboys, in his drab breeches, white-topped boots, and with the long and graceful whip in his gloved hand —but above all, a person of such corporeal weight and substance, of such a massive and compact frame, that as he takes his seat on the coach box, you fancy him saying to all obstacles and dangers,

"Come on, come all, this rock shall fly

From its firm base as soon as I."

Chester is an ancient town, with marks of an

tiquity in every structure and stone. The streets are channelled out of the freestone foundation basement story; which is

rock. This makes the

mostly used for shops. retreats back from the street, leaving a planked sidewalk, of six or eight feet wide, while the second story again comes forward to the line of the street, thus making a covered walk over the whole town. These recesses or piazzas are full, everywhere, of queer-looking little booths, or shops, not bigger than a nutshell. The town itself looks as if it were made for "hide and go seek," or something worse-full of corners and crannies, of a most suspicious appearance-full of narrow passages and blind alleys, leading away into darkness and obscurity.

The first story above this

A fine walk on the walls that surround the old town. I went to the tower on the wall, from which it is said that Charles I. beheld the rout of his army on Rowton Moor. I ascended those steps, which I imagined he went up that day, with eager and anxious hope, and which he came down, doubtless disappointed, dispirited, and foreboding evil; for this was a dark hour in the history of that unhappy monarch's fortunes. But how inconceivable it is, that a man, with his blood not frozen in his veins, could stand upon a wall and see his own

VOL. I.-C