We have either been greatly belied heretofore, or are the greatest hypocrites known." I inclined to the latter opinion, and told him so, and, as he entertained the same idea, we were of one way of thinking on that point.

The order of reception made it incumbent upon every shopkeeper, merchant, and manufacturer to close his establishment for the day so as to afford all classes an opportunity of welcoming Victoria to the city of spindles. The poor were anxious to appear in their best, and have a jollification on the occasion; and as the most of them had not means to spare, they crowded the pawnbrokers' shops to pledge goods for funds. Watches, trinkets, and even bedclothes were placed in pawn to supply a few shillings for pocket-money, and the two hours the queen was in town cost more misery than it is possible to estimate. The barefooted, the ragged, and the hungry were evidently as loyal as the wellclothed and wealthy, and their delight at the approaching advent of their sovereign proved the fact.

My stay was short; and on the morning of the day on which Victoria was to visit Liverpool, I left Manchester by an early train for that city. The rain fell in torrents, but the ardor of the people was unchecked. On the line between the two places preparations were in progress for the royal reception, and at the station near Worsley, at which place the queen was to be the guest of the Earl of Ellesmere, there was a magnificent triumphal arch over the railway, and a covered avenue reaching down to the canal, a distance of about two hundred yards, the entire length of which was carpeted with red velvet, while the station was hung with festoons of flowers, and banners from the "haughty scroll of gold," or royal standard, to the more familiar blood-red cross of St. George. From the housetops, along the line of the rail, flags were flying, and mottoes and devices ornamented the dwellings of some of the more patriotic and enthusiastic.

When I arrived at Liverpool, the rain was falling heavy and continuous. The streets were densely crowded with anxious humanity, and the houses presented as much scaffolding as those of Manchester. Barricades lined the streets, and thousands of policemen were stationed at convenient distances along the route to preserve order. Flags surged in the dull heavy breeze, and among the thousands hung along the line, I noticed several American, and one or two French. The concourse of spectators was composed of all classes, and the women faced the pelting storm with a determination to see "her Majesty" that was creditable to their loyal curiosity. All the stores were closed, all business suspended but that of the rumseller; and the patriotic found it convenient to wet the inner man at the same time the storm drenched the outer one. Poor miserable barefooted wretches stood in the cold rain for hours awaiting the approach of the sovereign. When at last Victoria arrived at a particular stand near where I was stationed, some of those on it cried out "Her Majesty nods-Her Majesty approves!" and the whole assemblage appeared to have lost their senses, and what little independence they once possessed. I positively believe they would have gone down on their knees to the queen had she requested them to do so, or even intimated a wish to that effect. Fortunately for the British nation, Victoria is a plain, sensible woman, and neither a tyrant nor lover of show, or affairs might be different from what they are. She exhibited an evident detestation of the fawning sycophancy to which she was an unwilling witness, and her countenance revealed her feelings. Public receptions are disliked by her, and she is well tired out of being conducted about the country and shown to her subjects by the fat aldermen of certain towns, or a designing few who seek popularity by publicly feasting her.

After the procession passed, the streets presented a scene of excitement and hilarity at once wild and bacchanalian. Patriotism gushed out in songs and cheers, and each of the drenched spectators of the queen's entrée into Liverpool was a sovereign in his own estimation, happy in the enjoyments of the day. Tired of the place, I departed for the old city of Chester, where I spent several days in quiet and to advantage. While resident in it, I visited "Eaton Hall," the princely mansion of the Marquis of Westminster, distant about three miles, in a romantic part of the country, on the banks of the Dee. My walk was full that extent through the grounds of the estate after passing the lodge-gate, a massive Gothic arch of exquisite design and workmanship, in which the lodgekeeper and family reside. The parks are in a comparatively uncultivated state, there being considerable underwood and more wildness than usual in such grounds. Numerous alterations were being made in the drives and hall, which is built in the pointed Gothic style, and turreted most beautifully. Large additions had recently been made to it, and when the alteration it is undergoing shall have been completed, it will exceed, in magnificence, any one of the royal palaces in the realm. The reception-room was shown me, and, as it was just from the artist's hand, it had an appearance truly gorgeous; and with its rich tracery and harmonious coloring, bright gilding, and Alhambrian scenery, presented the reality of what our imaginations lead us to suppose the interior of an ancient Moorish palace to have been. And to give greater effect to the noble edifice, a fine terrace stretches away in front, laid out in walks and beds of flowers; and adorned with statuary and vases, the whole of which is surrounded by a beautiful stone palisading, from which extends a lawn to the River Dee. The jagged and imposing ruins of Beeston Castle, with the bold form of the Welsh hills, constitute the distant horizon line, while the intervening space between them and the stream is a rich landscape, interspersed with farms and cottages, and thickly clustered with massy oaks and other noble trees. The owner of the palace occupies it but rarely; and with all its magnificence and extent, its wealth and costly keeping, it is only one of the many seats of its possessor. Next to Chatsworth, it may justly be considered the noblest edifice of its kind in the kingdom, and, without exception, the most superb modern Gothic structure for purely private use in England, or, perhaps, Europe.

CHAPTER XXVII.

WALES-WALK TO MOLD AND ST. ASAPH-AN INCIDENT AT AN INN-BANGOR TUBULAR BRIDGE-SUSPENSION-BRIDGE-THE

WELSH NATIONALITIES.

WALES is a portion of the dominions of Her Britannic Majesty mainly visited in the summer season by the denizens of England for the purpose of enjoying the mountain air and scenery, and passing a few weeks in relaxation from the cares of business or the dissipations of fashionable life. Beaten routes are followed, and certain places visited, and the tourist returns with a pocket considerably lightened, and a vivid recollection of cloud-capped hills, rugged and sterile mountain sides, lowly valleys, and peasant women, who wear the hats of the sterner sex, and the rough coarse boots of country clowns. But few see the people in their dwellings, or examine into their mode of life, and none come home with a very favorable impression of Wales upon their minds. The language of the natives is a sealed book to the Englishman, and as there evidently exists a mutual detestation of each other between the present representatives of Edward the First, and the descendants of the Cambrian bards, there is but little intercourse between the two classes, and no sympathy in The visitor roams the land for pleasure and relaxation -the native entertains him for his money, and so far only do they render each other what may be called a mutual benefit.

common.

I set out from Chester to Mold, a town of considerable size in Flintshire, but saw so little to interest between the two places as scarcely to deserve notice. The farms differ greatly from those of England; the hedges were poor and thriftless, the land stony and of light soil, the houses small and mean; some of them being but little better than the thatched cottages of the Irish peasantry. The town of Mold cannot be said to be a place of consequence, and beyond its old church there are no buildings of note. The sacred pile is situate on a hill, and the space around devoted to burial purposes is large, and gives ample scope for viewing the edifice, which is one possessing several peculiarities not often seen in village churches. The tower is high and imposing, and there are battlements around the main portion of the building, and a curiously ornamented frieze under the cornices on which are sculptured figures of nearly every species of animals, from the stately lion and ponderous elephant to the agile monkey and slothful bear. The streets are paved oddly enough, the usual order of things being reversed, for the sidewalks are laid with rough rounded pebbles, while the carriage-ways are smooth and easy of travel. The surrounding country is hilly, and not much adapted for farming purposes. The turnpikes between Mold and Denbigh are good; but as they wind through valleys there is not much to be seen beyond the sides of the hills, and the whitewashed cottages of the peasantry, and not many of the latter. I walked nearly twenty miles to St. Asaph, but saw little on the entire route of interest, except the stupid rustics whom I met, and they were almost as dull and ignorant as the donkeys they drove. Nearly along-side of Mold, on a high point of a range of hills, stands an obelisk of considerable altitude, with the history of which I supposed every person in the vicinity was familiar, but found myself greatly mistaken, when I made inquiry of those I met. Not one, out of twelve or more to whom I spoke, could tell what it was, and I began to think that it would be useless to make any further exertions to learn, when an old man, who was breaking stone on the road-side, told me all he knew about it.

He was a grayhaired veteran, quite sociable and friendly, and appeared to take pleasure in being able to inform me what the pile was erected for, and its name. "It was built," said he, "when George the Third was king, to commemorate the fiftieth year of that sovereign's reign, and is a landmark to mariners, as well as an object of curiosity to travellers, and is called the Moel Famma." As I passed on, the lofty ruins of Denbigh Castle became visible, and their bald and jagged outlines were clearly