such grace, such aspiration, such power, such harmony. O, it was
worth crossing the Atlantic, that first impression.

After the service, I took a guide and went all over this miracle of
beauty and genius, and read the inscriptions and saw the
curiosities.

During my second stay in Liverpool, my friend took me to Chester,
that wonderful old city, just on the borders of Wales. If you can
imagine the front rooms of the second story of a row of houses taken
out, and in their place a floor put over the lower story and a
ceiling under the upper story, and shops in the back rooms, you will
form some idea of Chester. All the streets, nearly, are made in this
way. The carts and horses go in the narrow streets between the
houses, but foot passengers walk in this curious sort of piazzas,
put into the houses instead of being added to them. The most elegant
shops are here in these back rooms, and you walk for whole long
streets under cover, with the dwellings of the inhabitants over your
heads and under your feet. Often the upper story shelves over the
third, so that you almost wonder why the house does not tumble over.

A friend, whom I had never seen, did me the honor to invite me to
her hospitable mansion in Manchester. It was indeed a great
privilege to be allowed to make a part of the family circle, and sit
with them by their fireside, and be made to feel at home so far from
one's native land; and this I experienced all the time I was in
England.

I was prepared for the appearance of Manchester. So I was not
astonished at the number of tall chimneys, nor at the quantity of