only ferry that then existed on the Mersey.

At a dinner at Mr. Bramley Moore's a little while ago, we had a
prairie-hen from the West of America. It was a very delicate bird, and a
gentleman carved it most skilfully to a dozen guests, and had still a
second slice to offer to them.

Aboard the ferry-boat yesterday, there was a laboring man eating oysters.
He took them one by one from his pocket in interminable succession,
opened them with his jack-knife, swallowed each one, threw the shell
overboard, and then sought for another. Having concluded his meal, he
took out a clay tobacco-pipe, filled it, lighted it with a match, and
smoked it,--all this, while the other passengers were looking at him, and
with a perfect coolness and independence, such as no single man can ever
feel in America. Here a man does not seem to consider what other people
will think of his conduct, but only whether it suits his own convenience
to do so and so. It may be the better way.

A French military man, a veteran of all Napoleon's wars, is now living,
with a false leg and arm, both movable by springs, false teeth, a false
eye, a silver nose with a flesh-colored covering, and a silver plate
replacing part of the skull. He has the cross of the Legion of Honor.


March 18th.--On Saturday I went with Mr. B---- to the Dingle, a pleasant
domain on the banks of the Mersey almost opposite to Rock Ferry. Walking
home, we looked into Mr. Thorn's Unitarian Chapel, Mr. B----'s family's
place of worship. There is a little graveyard connected with the chapel,
a most uninviting and unpicturesque square of ground, perhaps thirty or
forty yards across, in the midst of back fronts of city buildings. About