It was on the morning of the 13th of July-in the early, misty morning. Looking afar we saw something like a low-lying cloud. They said it was Ireland. Then a little boat came dancing across the waves with "Cork Pilot" on her sails. Then there was something ahead that looked like a ship, but it did not move; the mist came down and shut it out, then lifted again, and there, like a great white uplifted finger, was Fastnet lighthouse standing on its gray rock in the midst of the waves. Then the curtain of mist was uplifted everywhere, and we glided along in full sight of the bold shores, purple and gray, crested with the green fields, bright indeed as any emerald, of Ireland. So we passed the bold "Old Head of Kinsale," and off the entrance of Queenstown harbor the ponderous engines of the Bothnia, for the first time in nine days, stood still. Again we heard guns, but this time it was the sullen roar of British cannon from the forts on the dark heights at the harbor's mouth. A tender came off and took some passengers and the mail. We could see little of Queenstown, and I remembered little of it, save that here is buried an obscure Irish clergyman, whose little poem, "The Burial of Sir John Moore," has stirred the hearts of two nations.

The tender moved off, and the great engines heaved and throbbed again. The next day at noon we saw a forest of masts; great docks; miles of frowning warehouses; giant steamers plowing to and fro, everywhere the marks of boundless wealth, iron courage, immense mechanical skill, tireless industry-this was Liverpool-this was England.

SOME FIRST IMPRESSIONS.

T is a solemn thing for a Kansas man to land in Liverpool

IT is

on a rainy day. Coming from an open country full of brightness and lit up by a cloudless sun, the bigness and blackness, the inner and outer darkness of Liverpool is well-nigh appalling. A turbid river, foaming and tossing like the sea; steamers black as midnight plowing to and fro; miles of low-lying warehouses, their slate roofs gleaming dimly in the rain; spires and chimneys looming up spectrally in the mist; docks that seem the work of giants, skirting the stream as far as the eye can reach; ships' masts like the trees of a girdled forest; ship-yards a maze of timbers; - these are the outlines of Liverpool as seen from the steamer's deck.

The American republican realizes, too, that he has, in our parlance, "struck" a new sort of government. The tugs that circle around bear such names as the "British King," the "Queen," the "Royal George," and the British lion ramps everywhere and in every color and attitude- with his head and tail up, and with both those extremities down; on four legs, and two legs; having his everlasting controversy with the unicorn, or "going it alone." He can be spread out in more shapes than the American eagle, and the British artists put him through more crookednesses than were ever attained by a circus contortionist.

But there are familiar things everywhere. Leaving the land

ing stage and turning into Water street, the first thing this writer saw was a poster announcing the virtues of Perry Davis's Pain Killer. Was it not a noble thought?-America stretching out her hand with a bottle of Perry Davis's Pain Killer to soothe the anguished bowels of England! Gen. Grant did not need to come to promote harmony between countries which cure the same kind of stomach-ache with the same medicine.

Walking along the streets, one is impressed with the enormous strength and solidity of everything - the pavements of great stones; the warehouses which look as if they had stood for all time and were ready for eternity; the plate-glass windows; the enormous amount of brass-work everywhere; and the big knockers on the doors, which would break in an American door. Everything is in the same proportion: horses as big as elephants, shod with high-corked shoes, hauling a load for a small locomotive, go clanking up and down the rocky ways; and omnibuses are rolling about, drawn by three great horses abreast; and the street car, lately introduced, is a huge, lumbering contrivance, with a circular stairway for the people to climb up on top - for English people love to ride outside in the rain.

The greatness of England extends even to these little things; but the fierce pride of this people, their unconquerable bull-dog courage in war, is commemorated everywhere in great works. The docks, the like of which exist nowhere else, bear the names of Waterloo, Trafalgar and Nelson. Wellington looks afar from the top of an enormous pillar, and Nelson is everywhere in stone and in bronze. Liverpool sprang from the sea, and the name of the greatest of England's sea fighters is naturally the most prominent. Next to Nelson and Wellington, the most frequent name is that

of the statesman Canning, who was a Liverpool man. It is odd, but a name quite as well known in America as any of these is that of Mrs. Hemans, who was born here, yet she has no monu

ment.

The public buildings are enormous, all of stone, and built to last forever. I should imagine that no sensible earthquake would presume to attack them. St. George's Hall, the Museum, the new Art Gallery, the Exchange, the City Hall-all huge and all black. Take, for illustration, the capitol at Topeka, make it four times as large, and then paint it all over with a mixture of equal parts of soot and rain-water, and you have some idea of Liverpool public architecture. I will not venture to go into details as to the expense of these things. It is safe to say that the cost of the public buildings of Liverpool is equal to the annual revenues of many a kingdom.

And yet they call this a new town. A Liverpool man apologizes for the youth and rawness of his town-it is only four or five hundred years old, and you must make allowances. It is not only a new town, but it is a growing town. Blocks on blocks of new buildings are being built on what but a few years ago were green fields.

American tourists do not, as a rule, I think, visit Liverpool. It is only a stopping-place, and yet it seems to me that the second city in the kingdom is well worth a prolonged visit. American commerce has been a great stay of this city, and the intercourse has left its trace. In my rambles about the town I met with Washington street, Maryland and Baltimore streets, and other traces of the influence of America. The American population must be considerable, and American goods are everywhere adver

There is much to see in Liverpool-more than at first sight would be suspected. I will now mention but one place of interest, the free library and museum.

The American idea is, that the nobility of a country are a nuisance-a relic of a barbarous time; that an aristocracy grinds down the people and wrings from them their hard earnings, and is generally and specially a curse. In England, however, I am inclined to think the people get their money back, and perhaps a little more; and the museum is a case in point. There was once a cock-fighting Earl of Derby-which you will understand is not Derby, but "Darby." This old rooster had a passion for all the fowl creation - beginning with game-cocks, and extending to everything that wore feathers. He ransacked the world for birds, and there is a story that when he was about to shuffle off this mortal coil, he requested that a couple of game-cocks be pitted on his bed where he could see them fight; and so he literally "died game." His immense collection of birds was bequeathed to the free library and museum of Liverpool, where it may now be seen. I am free to say that I have never seen its like, and that the Smithsonian collection at Washington is small in comparison. The museum is very extensive in other departments, but I would say to an American, don't forget to go to the museum and see the birds.

I visited, also, the free library in search of some information about the bloody British cavalryman, Banastre Tarleton, who made us so much trouble in the Carolinas during the Revolution, and who after the war returned to Liverpool, and for years represented the borough in Parliament. I found his own account of his campaigns, a straightforward, soldiery story enough, and quite complimentary to Gen. Washington; but could find nothing about