craft that touched at Plymouth, and now great swelling agnostics
bring you to London itself. Still, Liverpool remains the greatest
port of entry for our probationers, who are bound out to the
hotels and railroad companies of all Europe till they have
morally paid back their fare. The superstition that if you go in
a Cunarder you can sleep on both ears is no longer so exclusive
as it once was; yet the Cunarder continues an ark of safety for
the timid and despairing, and the cooking is so much better than
it used to be that if in contravention of the old Cunard rule
against a passenger's being carried overboard you do go down, you
may be reasonably sure of having eaten something that the
wallowing sea-monsters will like in you.

[Illustration: THE LIVERPOOL DOCKS]

I have tried to give some notion of the fond behavior of the
arriving Americans in the hotels; no art can give the impression
of their exceeding multitude. Expresses, panting with as much
impatience as the disciplined English expresses ever suffer
themselves to show, await them in the stations, which are
effectively parts of the great hotels, and whir away to London
with them as soon as they can drive up from the steamer; but many
remain to rest, to get the sea out of their heads and legs, and
to prepare their spirits for adjustment to the novel conditions.
These the successive trains carry into the heart of the land
everywhere, these and their baggage, to which they continue
attached by their very heart-strings, invisibly stretching from
their first-class corridor compartments to the different luggage-
vans. I must say they have very tenderly, very perfectly imagined
us, all those hotel people and railroad folk, and fold us,