acknowledged the enlightenment. Indeed, before we had left the shores of England, we concluded that the English people, to this good day, were as loyal, from lord to lackey, as in the days of old, when mail-clad forms were couched, with lance in rest, if but one breath of calumny should assail the heaven-anointed monarch. The English are still devoted to their Queen, not so much by personal love and attachment, but as the embodiment of a principle to which they are wedded.

About 4 o'clock, P. M., we left the Crystal Palace, and strolled out upon the green-sward of Hyde Park, along the bank of the Serpentine, a small winding lake, but more like a river, that meanders through this handsome space of field and forest. Pedestrians with their sagacious dogs, male and female equestrians on their handsome horses, and elegant equipages, containing the fashionable and noble, were to be seen in all directions. History and fiction have alike rendered Hyde Park a subject of interest to everybody, but especially to the young and imaginative mind. As we roved over the soft turf, and rambled through its quiet retreats, we thought how many a tale of love had been told beneath those wide-spreaking oakshow many a heart had thrilled with sweetest joy, and alas how many, too, had been deceived. How many an unknown story of love, of treachery and broken hearts, had those ancient trees been the silent witness-an unrecorded drama in the history of each suffering spirit. Earth was pillowed upon the bosom

of night-toil had rocked her softly to rest-silence hung like a heavy mantle over her slumbers, while the starry firmament above, flung out like some broad banner from the battlements of heaven, curtained in her couch. Naught else heard or spoke, save the wind, as it wooed the dim old woods, and the rustling leaves as they whispered the tale about.

But away with musing for just now a "still, small voice" was whispering that we had passed the day-without our dinner. Being thus admonished, we were off in a trice for this indispensable item of life, and while cozily seated at our table, our reflections were something in this wise-"Well, London is, upon the whole, quite a pleasant place—provided your shillings are abundant, but if you have not a superfluity of cash, why then you have no business in this vast metropolis. Money is here a friend on whom you may safely rely, while you have him in possession, but one who 'will leave and forsake you' at every turn."

Just here we were about to give an order, but involuntarily hesitated, when, on looking up, we discovered, instead of Sir Ebony, a gentleman “in cloth," with white vest and white cravat, meekly awaiting our commands.-But our democratic scruples soon vanished before the returning thought that we were still master so long as the potent shilling rested in our purse, and so suffered the elegant waiter to obey our behest, without discountenance, and in his own subservient way.

Having dined, our next query was "in what manner should we spend the evening?" Taylor was fatigued, and positively swore he would not stir forth that night; so, per necessity, we must go it alone. Sallying out under the blazing glare of the gas-light, we strolled up the Strand, and turned in at the Lyceum, where "Only a Clod," "Court Beauties," and "King Charming" were performed. We were much pleased with the evening's entertainment-the scenic effect in the last play being superior to anything of the kind we had yet witnessed. To add to the attractions of the bill, twenty-four young girls, charmingly dressed in light floating gauze, appeared in the ballet, with eight banners in their hands, representing eight several nations, under which they successively danced the national dance of each country represented. Among the flags shone conspicuous "the stars and stripes." "Yankee Doodle" was the air, and something which we supposed the "pigeonwing" was the dance attributed to America.

How it causes the heart of the stranger to swell with untold emotions, to hear the national air of his own dear land, while wandering over foreign shores, especially, too, with the well-loved banner of his country before his eyes. One thus situated can never have those feelings erased from his memory, though the snows of many winters may whiten his brow, and the tide of many years strive to pour forgetfulness over the scenes of his early youth. And we would ask no stronger current of cherished memories to

come sweeping over the bending heart, than to hear, as we have heard, the sweet notes of some favorite song, oft heard from beauty's lips at home, suddenly to greet the ear, where many a weary mile, and many a restless billow, intervene between the pilgrim and the home of his fathers. It chains the very spirit into stillest mood, and wakes the "key-note of the saddest dirge that fancy ever played to melancholy."

CHAPTER V.

A STROLL through St. James' Park serves as an excellent antidote to the "noise and confusion of the Strand. Buckingham Palace, the Queen's city residence, fronts down the Park, and is quite a royal building. Standing in front of the Palace, and looking down the Park, you see the lofty towers of Westminster peeping over the tree-tops to the left, while just to the right of the Abbey, rises the unfinished tower of the new House of Lords. St. James' Palace, where the Queen holds her Court, lies over to the right, fronting up St. James-street, at the foot of Pall Mall, and presents a queer old face to your view, with its time-stained walls and peaked towers. Just outside the high iron fence, that fronts Buckingham Place, promenade the stiff English sentinels, in their blood-red coats, snow-white pants, and high conical fur hats. Lolling about over the soft sward, may be seen the city-bred Londoners, rolling over the green grass, as if the very contact did their souls good. Swans and ducks paddle unmolested about in the Park lake, and seem well content with their pension.