and an old legend has it, that the first 'squatters' frightened a bird from the midst of the waters, called a Liver; more imaginary than real, it is presumed. However, this is its derivation; and the coat of arms is yet this bird, bearing a laurel in its mouth. There is but very little pride evidenced by the citizens in dress, dwellings or manners; and to an American, accustomed to any society at home, every thing wears a 'commonality' quite below par. The tradesmen as well as all the middle class dress more than plain, if I may be allowed the expression, arising on one part from individual closeness, and on the other from dire necessity. At the hotels you find nothing savoring of show; and although you have all real wants supplied, still it is done by measurement, and extras, which are entirely unknown in the States. Does the appetite call for a second roll of bread, a dish of butter, a strong potation, the former articles are 'extra,' while the latter is particularly measured out to you. In all public houses, women, generally young, are your attendants in the bar, and to your room; a selection and a custom as well for economy as policy, at times.

CHAPTER II.

LIVERPOOL.: ITS LIONS: OIN-HOUSES: BEGGARS WORK-HOUSES: DRIVERS: REMARKS.

THE Ocean had been traversed, and I stood upon monarchical ground, a land with which I had been conversant through history from early boyhood: a land of kings and princes, immortal bards and brave knights-merry England! I wished a pleasanter introduction to this famous kingdom than that of Liverpool; but this was our landing port, and from it I could diverge when circumstances permitted. There are a few public buildings worth the attention of a stranger, and but a few. St. George's Hall, of recent construction, and erected for public purposes, is perhaps the one of most note. Her Majesty QUEEN VICTORIA honors the town with her presence in a few months to 'open' it; a ceremony much like laying a cornerstone in America. Figures carved from stone, and the size of life, ornament the front of the building, a group more to keep alive the ancient rule of sculpturing than for modern modesty. However, this is but a fault in the eyes of a few, and it may not become me to condemn it. In Exchange Square stands a monument to Nelson, of iron. Its design is as beautiful as it is just to the memory of a brave officer. Upon a pedestal Nelson is represented as falling; and while Victory above is crowning him with a wreath of laurel, Death, concealed beneath, stretches his bony arm without, and places his hand upon the breast and heart of the Admiral. At the base you read the words that all know - those living, imperishable words the last uttered in the agonies of death: England expects every man to do his duty.'

A park in the suburbs, called The Prince's Park,' is the lung of Liverpool. It is yet in an unfinished state, but has all the natural advantages to make it quite attractive. The Theatre Royal is the only decent, respectable place of amusement; while on the other hand you have the Amphitheatre, a resort for all the commons of the town; and singing-balls and ring-fights without number. Like all large towns, the floating population seek the common places, and one needs but a visit to cure him of all curiosity to look in again.

The gin-houses, although not so extensive as those of London, are still

man.

a very good miniature of those dire, death-dealing establishments. You enter by one door, and there in turn are men, women with infants, boys and girls, arranged at the bar, despatching or eagerly waiting for the nauseous, unwholesome draught, and by another door they make their egress. It is a sad sight to see to what a complexion debased appetites will reduce There are some houses still more sad in the display of vice; the resort of street-beggars, prigs or thieves, etc. Here you find the disabled sailor, maimed landsmen, or whoever begs for charity, throwing away their long faces, showing two legs and two arms, instead of one, as at the moment before; revelling half maudlin in poisonous liquors, and exulting in the clever tricks they have imposed upon the passers-by. Although in our own midst we have all classes of vices, yet to speak from observation, I should give the old country the preference as to perfection in this matter. ception seems more abundant among the lowest. The post-boy will cringe to you for his expected shilling; but, if disappointed, your feelings are very apt to descend into the region of your toes, causing them to jump forward toward the stern of the retiring craft. Curiosity or inquisitiveness, so rife in the States, is an element very little evidenced here. The better and intelligent portion are either indifferent, or their pride does not allow them to uncover their ignorance, while the ignorant and unlearned do not know, and can scarcely be taught. It is surprising to meet so much illiberality of sentiment, such ridiculous and intolerable ignorance, as stare you in the face wherever you go. I say this not in a spirit of animosity or uncharitableness, but as the truth, so far as experience in observation goes. I would not advise strangers to make their début in England at Liverpool.

The work-horses will surprise any one unaccustomed to such valuable auxiliaries. Their size is immense, and the weight they drag is quite as much so. Great and ridiculous is the comparison between these giant beasts and the poor little donkeys seen laboring under enormous loads, and goaded on by their unfeeling Irish masters. The former are bred in

Lancashire, and fed on beans and Swedish turnips, food conducive to mettle as well as to a good condition; and the latter is an Irish way of 'getting on.' Aside from the dray or float horses, this valuable animal meets with no favor; I mean the common cab or car-horse. Urged to their utmost speed, they tear along through the streets like mad; a speed forced by the wicked driver more for his extra sixpence than a desire to accommodate the passenger. The above said 'extra' you might give at once, or subject yourself to a despicable jaw with the 'jarvey, who will haunt you so long as there is a prospect of obtaining it; another way of begging, which a true American would never follow, were he as poor as Sambo's hat.

A FAVORABLE INTRODUCTION: ITS RESULT: DUBLIN: WHAT I SAW THERE

Ir is very pleasant in a foreign land to meet those who possess kind hearts, giving one the assurance that although Satan has tempted all mankind, there are yet those who despise his ways and scorn the proffered crown. I had resolved to visit Dublin, and with a friend made my way

to the royal mail-steamer 'Iron Duke,' which runs to Kingston, some twelve miles from the city. The usual introduction through, I pressed my friend's hand; the steam was up, the hauser slipped, and we puffed down the Mersey. For awhile the captain's duties detained me from conversation; but this was but for a little time, after which I was invited on deck to consummate our acquaintance. We soon found that we were bound, each to the other, by the mystic tie' of Masonry; and although this fact might in part have biased Captain Christie, still his native gentlemanly conduct could not be too much warped by such a discovery. Be it from the former or the latter, I discovered myself in kind and generous hands, and the best of comfort and luxury the steamer could produce was mine. The captain was a gentleman, perfectly liberal in his views; and I would not attribute it wholly to his having visited the States, albeit he knew the Americans well, and the same kindness he found from home, he seemed determined to distribute at home. That night upon the Irish sea I shall always remember with pleasure, and I trust the humanity shown me by a foreigner and a stranger I may follow as an example hereafter. We made Kingston, Ireland, in the morning, and with the captain as my willing guide, we booked ourselves for Dublin. A beautiful part of Ireland it is between Kingston and Dublin; and although it was mid-winter, yet the grass was green, and the agriculturist was improving the forwardness of the season. It was my first visit to Ireland, and a very favorable impression it gave me. However, my surprise was much greater on entering Dublin; a fine, beautifully pleasant city, upon the Liffey, with spacious streets, and quite clean, reminding me of New-York, as well in the style of building as in its general aspect. With another favorable introduction to a brother Mason-poor fellow! he has since 'slipped his moorings'- we perambulated the city, and in a few hours had seen many of its 'Lions.' St. Patrick's Cathedral, built A.D. 700, is worth a long pilgrimage to look upon. The touch of Time' is visible without; but within, although antique, it is yet perfect, and must remain so for ages to come. Dean Swift, his wife Stella, and his servant, lie buried beneath, while the quaint busts and epitaphs tell you of the 'nat. et obiit' of the same, above. High above the head hang the banners of extinct families of nobility, covered with the dust and mould of centuries; and a strange feeling it begets to look thereon. Long since have they figured upon the great stage of life, and long since have they passed away; and the only evidence of their having existed is the motheaten banner above. "Out, out, brief candle!' has Shakspeare truly said. We live but to die. Could this expressive truth be always regarded, our actions would savor of more wisdom than the natural thoughtlessness of man allows.

The Bank of Ireland occupies a portion of the building called the Four Courts, in which, it is said, poor Emmet made his immortal speech previous to his condemnation. In this room is a statue of George the Third, the finest specimen of sculpture I ever saw. It is said his unworthy son, George the Fourth, wept when he saw it, for the inanimate representation of a worthy sire almost spoke to him with the tongue of reproach.

THIS is a mistake. The Bank of Ireland is in the Old Parliament House, in College-Green, nearly a mile distant from the Four Courts.- COMPOSITOR.

Trinity College is another 'sight,' having the finest room in any building in all Europe, occupied by the library. It is about three hundred and fifty feet long by forty-five broad, without a pillar to support it. Each side, in alcoves, are arranged the volumes, while the front of each alcove is decorated by the bust of some eminent man, from Socrates' time down to more modern days.

A park, called Phoenix Park, just out of the city, is also one of the attractions to a stranger. Her Majesty's troops here stationed perform their drills on this ground. Unfortunately, my day in Dublin was not the one to secure me the sight.

They have a funny way of riding in Dublin. The vehicle is called a jarvis or jarvey. Over the wheels each side is the seat, back to back, while your feet are liable to be 'carried away' by another passing machine of the same style. The driver or jarvey, in front, puts his horse into a full trot, and it is somewhat difficult to keep anchored. I wonder some true Yankee does not introduce the custom in New-York, a city so famous for novelties.

The old part of the town looks like old Jewry: narrow streets and very filthy. It is properly called 'The Slums.'

Although I expected to see a vast amount of poverty and beggary in Dublin, yet I noticed but one wretched being, and he, I should suppose, was the King of Misery. I turned from him as one too wretched and loathsome even to look upon. Nay, you will see more of Irish poverty in England's than in Ireland's large towns; at least this has been my observation. I attribute it to the vast emigration that is adrift. Not a packet leaves the town of Liverpool without a nest of these poor wretches swarming the deck. They are bound for happy, free Ameriky,' where they expect to pick up sovereigns in the streets, and gather garments from the trees.

There is also in Dublin a fine statue of Nelson, elevated some seventyfive feet; and also one of William the Fourth. The former is marble, while the latter is iron. Both stand in the centre of the town, near the arched bridge; a spot, by the way, from which can be seen nearly all the public buildings of the town.

But the day was waning, and with it I must accompany my captain friend back to Kingston: and the next morning I awoke in Liverpool.

I would here pay a humble tribute of memory and regard to Captain Christie of the Iron Duke,' for his gentlemanly behavior and brotherly kindness toward me on this flying trip to Dublin.