1

The Princess Park is filled with trees and flowering shrubs. There were many beautiful azalias, and the golden laburnum, the California of flowers, and the broom, and snowball.

Around Liverpool are numerous elegant country seats. The rich people fly the misery and toil and struggle of the city life, for the bright green fields of the country.

At every turn we met policemen, those polite "guardians of the law." We could but think, how wicked the people must be to require such a surveillance by night and day. Save in the Havanas, I had never seen a watchfulness like this. There the thickset Spanish soldier is encountered in every street.

Our delightful evening ended by a long drive amid the environs of Liverpool.

CHAPTER II.

Ar ten o'clock we left Liverpool, and, after passing through a dark tunnel, emerged into a beautiful country. It was like a grand mosaic, or like one of those exquisite quilts of myriad pieces, made by the dear hands of my aged grandmother. Each field was encircled by a well-cut hedge, and trees planted on the hill-tops. The narrow winding roads were also shaded by them, in rows on either side, forming a sweet, quiet walk. The country was entirely cultivated, even to the slip of ground along the railway. The fields were brightly green, intermingled with white, red, and yellow flowers. The ground, in a state of preparation for planting, seems to have been pulverized by some machine; it looks as smooth as brown ochre.

The railway does not pass through the great towns, but only near them. At the different stations are refreshmenthouses, but only three minutes allowed for stopping.

The sky of pale
from the sun.

blue, with a The air was

The day was delightful. few fleecy clouds to shade us pure, fresh, and life-giving. The calm, quiet beauty of the scenery realized precisely the descriptions of rural England, so sweetly and truthfully portrayed by Chaucer, by Spenser, and by Wordsworth.

We looked upon the thatched cottage, half covered with rose-vines in full blossom,-the fields of new-cut hay, where the women and children were tossing it into great highwheeled carts, the far-off castle with turrets, the little lakes, where the cows calmly stood in the placid waters,-the myriad sheep upon the hills,-the stalwart peasants at their daily toil; and they seemed pictures we had looked upon in some other period of existence, all were so familiar to our eyes.

The railway carriages are entirely comfortable, each containing six persons. Then the delightful security which is felt during the journey. Within sight of each other, stand men with flags, which are unfurled to signify danger or safety. If it be the red, some obstacle exists; if the white, nought impedes the onward progress.

From Liverpool to London, it was like a swift-unfolding panorama, constantly revealing new beauties to the eye. Perfectly was I repaid for all the discomforts of the voyage by this day of new and joyous existence. By the increased speed we found we were approaching London, and soon reached the station. There was no bustle or confusion. A cab was quietly called, and we drove into mighty London. Words cannot even give a shadow of the emotions which thrilled me as I passed along. All the romances, all the histories I had ever read, crowded upon my memory, and I felt like one wandering in dreams conjured up by wild imagination.

After driving to several hotels, we came to Fenton's, St. James's street, one of the most fashionable hotels of London. We have a charming parlor on the street, with a balcony, where I am now seated, writing, or, rather, I am striving to write, for the animated scene calls away my attention every

moment.

THE STREET-SWEEPER.

It is just seven o'clock. The sun is high in the heavens. Multitudes of carriages are dashing by, with servants in gorgeous liveries, with knee-breeches, velvet coats, and powdered wigs. The ladies, en grande toilette, are reclining in their elegant equipages, which are all of the barouche form, thus displaying the superb dresses. On the front seat is often a dainty little lap-dog, quietly gazing out upon the two liveried footmen, who stand behind the carriages, holding on to the long tassels.

To-day the Queen held her drawing-room; hence the unusual display of splendor in the costumes of the fair occupants of these carriages.

In front of me, at the crossing of the street, stands an old woman, with snow-white hair; in her hands she has an ancient-looking broom, with which she "sweeps the crossing," and puts forth her hand for charity. No one gives her any-yes! one person has dropped a copper in her hand. There seems a spell about some objects; for, though my eyes are enchanted by the gay and gorgeous scene, they irresistibly wander back to the old woman. It is another revelation of London life. Wealth and luxury dash proudly by, while poverty holds out its hands for the charity which does not come. A sad, sad feeling stole over me, and involuntarily I exclaimed, "Thank God, I have never seen this in my own country!"

Night has come at last. It is not darkness, but a soft, gray twilight. I must lay aside my pen. My eyes are wearied with the many objects which have passed before them this long, long day of June.

June 24th.-We dispatched all our letters ere we slept last night. This morning brought us many visitors; among them, one valued and dear friend, who had known me in the bright days of my life. He came with genial, cordial words, VOL. I.-1*

How like sweet sunlight

to welcome me to his native land.

it was to be greeted thus!

All to whom we sent letters came at once. They did not meet us, as though we were strangers. They received us like friends, and they invited us to their homes with a warm, frank manner, enchanting in its perfect sincerity.

"Mati

A beautiful and noble lady, to whom these kind friends had mentioned my arrival, sent me an invitation to a née dansante." At three o'clock I made a carriage toilette, and drove with them to her mansion, near one of the splendid parks of London. The house was magnificent. Every window was filled with rare plants and flowers. Four rooms were opened for dancing, and in the fifth there was a concert, where Bosio and Gardoni sang. As Bosio made her first reputation in America, she was to me particularly interesting. She is a slight, delicate-looking woman. Her voice is of pure and delightful quality, and her vocalization perfect. Gardoni is exceedingly handsome, and very young. His voice is soft and velvet-like. It falls upon the ear

"As gently as snow upon the sea,

And sinks into the heart as instantly."

It must have been a great effort to sing in the full light of day, before a wondrously cold audience.

The orchestra was admirable, and the polkas, redowas, and schottisches, were danced with infinite spirit, though the ladies were in bonnets and mantillas. The style of dancing was rather different from ours. It was not so affectionate, neither did the lady's head so gently recline upon her chevalier's shoulder, as it is wont to do in the New World.

There were many people of the aristocracy present, and a distinguished general who served with Wellington at Waterloo. A sumptuous breakfast ended the festivities of "the