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II.

LIVERPOOL.

WE soon passed the custom-house, had our baggage examined, and were on our way to a hotel. Every thing was new and strange. I expected to have seen a crowd of jostling hackmen, a multitude of beggars, and a swarm of pickpockets, but was agreeably disappointed in finding the streets as quiet as our own, the police officers, with a neat distinguishing livery, ready to bestow any attention, and the people free from that idle gaze with which a person is received in an American city, if he chances to arrive at an unusual hour, or in an uncomely plight. As we moved on, the corners of the streets were seen covered with notices of religious meetings. This objectionable practice prevails all over England, and clergymen, on Saturday, have large placards pasted on the corners of the streets, and on public buildings, informing the people of the hour and the subject on which they will discourse. Some of these notices are several feet in length; and are worded so as to draw attention. One was headed, "POPERY MISREPRESENTED AND REPRESENTED; or, Which is which;" and below followed a notice that Rev. Mr. Somebody would preach on Popery at a given hour.

After dinner, I went out to find a religious service. I went to several chapels of our own denomination, but found them closed, the prevailing custom being to hold service in the morning and evening. St. David's Church

I found open. It would seat more than a thousand persons, and but twenty-four adults and thirty-one children were present. An elderly man was preaching from the words, "Wherefore gird up the loins of your mind," &c. The discourse was sound in doctrine, ably written, but drawled and jerked out in the most unpardonable manner. The children were at play, and the adults were asleep. On the evening of the same day, I wandered out to the church of the famous Hugh M'Neile, one of the best pulpit orators I heard in England. His church is far away from the noise and confusion of the city, in a beautiful park, and is a costly and elegant Gothic structure. Though so far removed from the mass of habitations and the crowded streets, it is always well filled with an aristocratic audience. On the evening in question, it was crowded. We entered after the service had commenced; a song of praise was sweetly sounding through the aisles, and echoing amid the arches overhead. As we passed up the aisle, we were at once recognized as strangers, and several pew doors were immediately thrown open to us an instance of genuine politeness seldom shown so promptly, and with such apparent cheerfulness, in England or America. Dr. M'Neile is apparently about sixty years of age, tall and dignified in his demeanor, erect and manly in his bearing, having a countenance full of life, and an eye flashing with the fires of genius and intellect. His tone is earnest, and his enunciation clear and distinct. His hair is gray, bordering on snowy whiteness, and is carefully arranged. His countenance ist one of the most expressive I have ever seen, and marks nim as a man of vigorous thought and energy. He has recently entered into the arena of theological discussion, as an opponent of the church of Rome; and

few men in England are feared more by the pope and his cardinals than Hugh M'Neile.

And yet, with all his abilities, he has committed follies which ordinary men could not survive. I was told by a member of his church, that, on one occasion, when Prince Albert was on a visit to Liverpool, he attended the service performed by this distinguished man. The preacher, carried away by his enthusiastic love of royalty, preached a discourse from that awful passage in the Book of Revelation, "Behold, he cometh with clouds, and every eye shall see him," and an application of this language was made to the distinguished visitor. The sermon which I was fortunate enough to hear was from the words of Paul-"That thou mayest know how to behave thyself in the house of God, which is the church of the living God, the pillar and ground of the truth." The introduction was very simple, and was devoted to an explanation of the word "church,” and the different ways in which it is applied in the New Testament. The "names given to the church" formed his subject. 1. The house of God. The earthly temple, with its smoking incense, its swelling anthems, its robed priests, its flaming altars, its shekinah, and all its glory, is God's emblem of his church. As a house is builded, so the church is built. As the rough stones are taken from the quarry, smoothed and pol ished, so the sinner is taken from the depths of sin, changed, purified, and put as a lively stone into God's house. Every disciple has some place there the place of a nail, or a brick, or a stone. 2. The church of the living God. Paganism is a dead religion; its forms, services, and ceremonies are dead. Papists worship a dead virgin, dead saints, dead relics all are dead. Christianity lives; is full of activity; God has

breathed into it his own living spirit. 3. The pillar and ground of truth. The proclamations of the ancient kings were written out, and hung upon pillars, that the people might read. The church, the minister, the Christian, are to be God's pillars, to hold up his truth, that dying men may read it.

During the delivery of this discourse, the preacher stood with a small Bible in his hand, and was unembarrassed with notes. The sermon was ingenious rather than profound, impressive rather than eloquent. It was followed by an extemporaneous prayer, offered in a subdued and melting tone, and seemed full of the true and unmistakable spirit of devotion.

On the following morning, I went out to see the city. Liverpool, you know, is the greatest commercial city in the world. The docks, its principal attraction, are of peculiar construction, and admirably adapted to their purpose. They are built between the river and the town, guarded from storms, and filled at high tide from the river. Many of them can be entirely drained at low tide, or kept full, as circumstances may require. These docks, built at an immense expense, are capable of protecting a vast number of vessels, and distinguish Liverpool from all other cities.

One would hardly select Liverpool as a place of residence, independent of business considerations. The streets are irregular, and filled with seamen and dock laborers of the lowest class; houses, stores, and workshops are strangely mixed together; and ignorance and poverty are more distinctly seen than in London. There are some fine public buildings, among which the stranger admires the Exchange, the new Sailors' Home, St. George's Hall, and several others. There are parks and cemeteries of great beauty. I wandered into St.

James's Cemetery, situated in a deep dell, surrounded by high hills, in which excavations are made for tombs. Almost the first object which meets the eye, on entering, is a Grecian oratory, in which are several monuments to the crumbling memory of the dead. On every side are statues and effigies, the poor memorials of once living, moving men. This burial-place is one of much rural beauty, and, from its picturesque situation in what was once a stone quarry, in the sides of which are several sculptured galleries of catacombs, draws the attention, and claims a visit from every stranger. The great object of interest, however, is the marble statue of the Rt. Hon. William Huskisson, formerly one of the most distinguished citizens of Liverpool. The statue stands in a circular oratory, and was made in Rome by an English artist. There are several other burial-places in Liverpool, but to the sacred groves of none of them did I find time to resort.

Perhaps the stranger's attention is arrested, in an English town, by nothing more than the heavy, massive, frowning appearance of the public and private buildings. The eye of an American, which has long gazed upon neat white dwellings and churches, enclosed in gardens of luxuriant freshness, soon tires with the dull monotony of a city all built of brick and stone, blackened by age and storms, and begrimed with the smoke of the chimney and the dust of the furnace. The buildings in Liverpool all look as if built to last through time. They seem to defy the heat of summer and the blasts of winter -the assaults of time, and the ravages of fire and sword. Among the churches is one of cast iron; and another for the blind, in which the singing is done by, and the congregation composed chiefly of, the poor, unfortunate inmates of the blind

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