The rain had been falling heavily through the night. It was raw and
gusty, and thick clouds were sailing wildly overhead, as I went to
the first train for Preston. It was that time of morning when there
is a lull in the streets of Manchester, between six and eight. The
"knocker-up" had shouldered his long wand, and paddled home to bed
again; and the little stalls, at which the early workman stops for
his half-penny cup of coffee, were packing up. A cheerless morning,
and the few people that were about looked damp and low spirited. I
bought the day's paper, and tried to read it, as we flitted by the
glimpses of dirty garret-life, through the forest of chimneys,
gushing forth their thick morning fumes into the drizzly air, and
over the dingy web of Salford streets. We rolled on through
Pendleton, where the country is still trying to look green here and
there, under increasing difficulties; but it was not till we came to
where the green vale of Clifton open out, that I became quite
reconciled to the weather. Before we were well out of sight of the
ancient tower of Prestwich Church, the day brightened a little. The
shifting folds of gloomy cloud began to glide asunder, and through
the gauzy veils which lingered in the interspaces, there came a dim
radiance which lighted up the rain-drops "lingering on the pointed
thorns;" and the tall meadow grasses were swaying to and fro with
their loads of liquid pearls, in courtesies full of exquisite grace,
as we whirled along. I enjoyed the ride that raw morning, although
the sky was all gloom again long before we came in sight of the
Ribble.

I met my friend, in Preston, at half-past nine; and we started at
once for another ramble amongst the poor, in a different part of