Year: 1878

MY last letter was begun and
finished on the sea, in order to get
it off by the earliest ocean mail.
Six days of continuous storm had
made me long for the sight of land,
and I felt perfectly content to leave
the unstable footing and exhilara-
ting air Of the ocean to those ro-
mantle young ladies and gentlemen
who delight in


! "A life on the ocean wave


! ''The cry of Land !! sent a thrill
through the passengers and crew,
and all crowded forward to catch a
glimpse Of Holyhead, and the grim
Welsh mountains which guard the
western coast of Albion. The day
was raw and chilly; the fierce east
erly storm, which had met us as we
were parting from the American
coast, followed us into the chops Of
the Channel and up the Mersey,
even to the docks of Liverpool.
The debarkation was quickly made !;
courteous Custom House Officers
completed their task with as little
delay as possible. The inspection
passed, I jumped into hanson
(cab), and in few minutes was
comfortably quartered in the North
western Hotel. Liverpool has a
dark, smoky look, which is in a
measure relieved by the dazzling
brightness Of the gin-shops. Squa-
lid misery, hopeless poverty, wretch
edness unspeakable, meet you
everywhere; it is not only in the
by-ways and the slums, but on all
the great thoroughfares. You pass
tattered men, women and children,
with starvation cleaning from their
eyes. They look as though they
always had been poor, and there is
about them a pale, chalky sort Of
look, wherein you can trace the
history Of the gin'shop, with all the
terrible associations made immortal
by the pencil of Hogarth. On
every hand are the evidences Of
opulence and imperial power. Ships
from every cline cram her store
houses with the costliest treasures
of the earth. At Birkenhead, across
the Mersey, the roar Of blazing fur
naces and the thunder Of Titanic
hammers seem to shake the very
earth, as they build those gigantic
steamers which are the wonder and
admiration Of the world. Miles
and miles of solid masonry form
the great docks which have no pa
rallel on the face Of the globe.
Magnificent public buildings sur
round you, but they look dark and
grim and sooty, completely de-
stroying the sense Of beauty which
would otherwise attach to them.
The magnitude and solidity OF
everything astonishes you; in the
bridges and archways and tremen-
dous walls of masonry the work
looks as though it might have been
performed by race of Titans long
since extinct, instead of the Pigmies
you see laboring by the wayside.
From Liverpool to London the
railway runs through a country
which gives you the impression OF
being entirely fnished-it seems as
if there was nothing more to do.
The fields are all prepared, the
lawns are all moved, the hedges
are trimmed, all the little bits OF
straw and hay have been picked up
from the road and the wayside, and
there is nothing left for anybody to
do. There were but few people
visible in the country; all were
huddled in the towns. Disembark-
inc at the Victoria Station, I found
my way to quarters just back Of
the Strand, and only a short dis


tance from Waterloo Bridge and
Somerset House. Within sight
was the building where the traitor
Benedict Arnold died. My OWL
quarters were once the abode Of the
7agabond Earl of Rochester. The
room I occupied had an air o:
; faded gentility, Of the gloomy ano
grand order; and as the gay Ear
| is not considered a model by the
good people Of Exeter Hall, it was
, perhaps, as well for my sweet peace


of mind that I knew no more OF ltE


history; but as I blew out the light


and jumped into bed, the red glare
from the CRATE lit up the face OF {
! grand cavalier in high ruff anc