PARIS, _August 23_.

After a pleasant sojourn of three weeks in Ireland, I took passage in
one of the mail steamers for Liverpool, and arriving there was soon on
the road to the metropolis. The passage from Dublin to Liverpool was an
agreeable one. The rough sea that we passed through on going to Ireland
had given way to a dead calm, and our noble little steamer, on quitting
the Dublin wharf, seemed to understand that she was to have it all her
own way. During the first part of the evening, the boat appeared to feel
her importance, and, darting through the water with majestic strides,
she left behind her a dark cloud of smoke suspended in the air like a
banner; while, far astern in the wake of the vessel, could be seen the
rippled waves sparkling in the rays of the moon, giving strength and
beauty to the splendour of the evening.

On reaching Liverpool, and partaking of a good breakfast, for which we
paid double price, we proceeded to the railway station, and were soon
going at a rate unknown to those accustomed to travel on one of our
American railways. At a little past two o'clock in the afternoon, we saw
in the distance the out-skirts of London. We could get but an indistinct
view, which had the appearance of one architectural mass, extending all
round to the horizon, and enveloped in a combination of fog and smoke;
and towering above every other object to be seen, was the dome of St.
Paul's Cathedral.

A few moments more, and we were safely seated in a "Hansom's Patent,"
and on our way to Hughes's--one of the politest men of the George Fox
stamp we have ever met. Here we found forty or fifty persons, who, like