a group of rosy-cheeked lassies at Gretna. Near the witching time of night, half a dozen of them groped their way into the garden to pull cabbage-stalks. But a description of the ceremonies would be too long for the end of a sketch already prolix, and if any of my readers are curious to revive their recollections on the subject, they have only to recur to the graphic poem of Burns:

"Some merry, friendly countra folks,

Together did convene,

To burn their nuts and pou their stocks,
And haud their Halloween

Fu' blythe that night."

LETTER XXX.

RETURN TO LIVERPOOL--LANCASTER--PRESTON-RIDE TO

STAFFORDSHIRE--NEWCASTLE-UNDER-LINE-ETRURIA-

PORCELAIN MANUFACTORIES-LICHFIELD-REMINISCENCES OF DR. JOHNSON-BRACEBRIDGE HALL-BIRMINGHAM.

November, 1825.-On the 4th, we left Gretna Green in a post-chaise for Kendal, where we arrived the same evening at eight o'clock. Nearly the whole distance had been traversed on our way to Scotland, and the country had been examined with so much attention, as to occasion not a moment's delay on our return. The hills and lakes and streams were recognized as old acquaintances, although they had assumed a very different garb from that which they wore at the time of our departure. The tops of the mountains around the English lakes were mantled with snow, and the foliage of the forests had been tinged by the frosts of au

tumn.

Next morning we took the coach for Liverpool. The distance is seventy-two miles; but the route presents few objects of much interest to the traveller-fewer perhaps than the same distance in any part of England. It leads through Lancashire, which is a substantial but heavy county. Glimpses of the Irish sea, along which the road runs for the whole distance, the banks of the Lon and Ribble, two pretty streams which fall into it, and a curious rock, said to bear a striking resemblance to that of Gibraltar, are almost the

only interesting features in the scenery. The country is uniformly flat, with marshes and long tracts of sandy beach alternately bordering upon the coast. Some of the land is good, and the most is made of it by an industrious agricultural people.

Burton, Lancas

The towns are as dull as the country. ter, Preston, and Ormskirk are all considerable places, but possess few attractions either in point of architectural beauty, or moral association. Even the Castle of Lancaster, which crowns a picturesque eminence upon the banks of the Lon, from a proud residence of feudal chivalry and regal ambition, has been converted into halls for the administration of justice, and the dark cells of a prison. A circuit judge now dispenses law with the scales, where John of Ghent used to expound it with his sword. The town of Lancaster is built of a dark coloured stone, with contracted and gloomy streets, which give it an antique appearance. It seems to have little trade of any kind, and is in all respects a dull, unpleasant place.

At Liverpool we remained a few days, entirely absorbed in business, with the exception of one evening, which was both usefully and pleasantly passed in dining with an intelligent friend, residing a mile or two from town. The extent of his mercantile relations has rendered him familiar with the commercial interests of England, and his hours of leisure, employed in reading and observation, have supplied an intimate knowledge of the political state of the country, as well as of public characters, from the king downward. Wide as had been the sphere of our inquiries since parting with him in July, his disquisition over a surloin of beef and a bottle of generous port was not less instructive than agreeable. To the many favours which had been experienced at his hands since our first acquaintance, he added the gift of a volume of Essays, containing an interesting biographical sketch of Mr. Canning, with a collection of the early productions of his pen, while he was yet a student at Eton School. The juvenile lucubrations of the Secretary gave promise of the talents, which he has since displayed in the cabinet.

Having satisfactorily accomplished our errand to Liverpool, on the 11th we took seats in the coach for Newcastleunder-Line, a distance of fifty-six miles. Our ride to-day extended across the counties of Lancaster, Chester, and a

part of Stafford, through Prescot, Warrington, Knutsford, and Congleton, which are large manufacturing towns, offering no temptations to induce the traveller to linger. Between Liverpool and Prescot, we passed a handsome white monument, erected at the public expense, to the memory of William Pitt. At Warrington the road crosses the Mersey, and runs for some distance along its banks. Near this place we rode under an aqueduct on the Duke of Bridgewater's Canal, and saw boats navigating the channel over our heads. Thanks to the enterprise of our own country, there was nothing new in the picture, which is in all respects much less interesting than may be witnessed at a dozen places between the Hudson and Lake Erie. At 7 o'clock in the evening we reached Newcastle. This town is situated in a vale, and its brilliant gas-lights were observed from the hills of Lime several miles beyond.

Next morning, we walked to the village of Etruria, two miles from Newcastle, for the purpose of examining the Porcelain Manufactory, belonging to a son of the celebrated Wedgewood, inventor of an ingenious pyrometer for measuring high degrees of heat. His wares are known the world over. The manufactory is situated upon the bank of a canal, which communicates with London and Liverpool. Immense quantities of porcelain of the finest quality are here made and sent to the metropolis. Five hundred persons are employed in the business.

Mr. Wedgewood was not at home, but his agent conducted us through the manufactory, and explained the various stages, from grinding the materials to giving the last polish to the ware. The processes are very nearly the same, as in the large establishment of a similar kind at Derby, mentioned in a former letter. In some departments, I should think Mr. Bloor's manufactory superior to Mr. Wedgewood's. The materials for both are obtained in Cornwall. A steam engine of a twenty-eight horse power was here examined, which moves with such exactness as to regulate the hands of a clock. We saw several inventions in the useful arts, which were new to us, although they may not be to others. Among these was a churn, the piston or paddle of which is moved by a bow, like that used by a hatter in cutting fur, or by a watch-maker to turn his drill. But the improvement which appeared to me most worthy of imitation, was a new kind of steps for the exterior of buildings, made of cast

iron, with half of the superficies open, like wrought muslin, to let the rain through.

Having examined whatever there is worth seeing at Newcastle, which is a pleasant town, with a population of 10,000, we took a post-chaise for Lichfield, distant about thirty miles. The intermediate country is both rich and beautiful. Even

at this late season, the landscape was not without its charms. The fields were yet green, and large tracts of woodland retained a splendid foliage. As the road was as good as it possibly could be, and the day bright with a comfortable autumnal sun, our ride was unusually pleasant, embracing a sufficient variety of objects to make it interesting.

At the junction of the river Lyme with the Trent, the banks of which are fertile and picturesque, we passed the seat of the Earl of Stafford. In rural splendour, it will sustain a comparison with the finest in England. The beautiful eminences covered with forests of a large growth, and the stream flowing quietly by, render it a delightful retreat. A little island was observed, which, like another Delos, rose from the bosom of the water during the last summer—at the command of a more sordid divinity than Neptune. The seats of Lord St. Vincent and Lord Anson are in the same neighbourhood. In this vicinity there is also a Lunatic Asylum, which is charmingly situated, surrounded with woods, fountains, and jets d' eau, for the recreation of its unfortunate inmates. It is a private establishment, and the proprietor is said to make it profitable.

At 7 o'clock in the evening, we reached Lichfield, the birth-place of Dr. Johnson, who, following the etymology of the word and the authority of antiquaries, defines it in his dictionary "the city of the dead," adding by way of allusion to his nativity, "salve magna parens!" Although it hardly seemed to merit the epithet which his partiality bestowed, the streets were brilliantly lighted up, and the appearance of the town was by no means contemptible. We took lodgings at the George Inn, which was formerly kept by Harrison, alias "Boniface," and was the scene of the "Beau Stratagem," written by Farquhar while he was a recruiting officer at Lichfield. The waiter showed us into the very room which was occupied by the author, and gave us a glass of ale as smooth as that by which the former jolly landlord acquired his celebrity.

The day after our arrival, we attended church at the Cathe

dral, which is a magnificent and venerable pile of buildings, with three lofty steeples, one in the centre, and the other two at the south end. It covers a large area, standing upon an eminence, with handsome blocks of houses around it, placed however at such a distance that the edifice shows to good advantage. The principal entrance is finished with tabernacle work, and double rows of statues extend across the façade. Modern improvements are making bold innovations upon the simplicity of the ancient structure, rendered perhaps in some measure necessary by its great age and the inroads of time. The inside corresponds with the exterior in grandeur of design, and the richness of its ornaments. There are many sepulchral monuments, some of which are embellished by the chisels of the first masters.

In the service of the Cathedral there was nothing very peculiar, except that the young clergyman who officiated, chanted or sung out the conclusion of each prayer, in the manner of the Romish Church; and the responses were given in the same formal manner. A large audience appeared to be intent on the religious duties of the day. The music was remarkably fine, and the mellow tones of a powerful organ reverberated from the vaulted ceiling, and echoed through the long aisles.

The interest of Lichfield lies within a narrow compass, and depends almost entirely upon its literary associations. There is a cluster of houses about the Cathedral, consecrated by the residence of celebrated personages, the catalogue of whom is too long for enumeration. But the most sacred of the antique buildings is that in which Dr. Johnson was born, and which yet remains unaltered. It is an oldfashioned house, three stories high, with a projection in front supported by two pillars. The material was originally a light-coloured stone, which has grown dark with age. Its window shutters were closed, and the interior could not be visited, owing to the insanity of its present tenant, who is at times furious. We dined at the Three Crowns, the next door but one, in the room which Johnson and his friend Boswell occupied on their visit to the birth-place of the former. The hotel is kept by an old Frenchman, who came from the continent in the train of an English nobleman, and bound himself to Lichfield by the ties of marriage. He was personally acquainted with Dr. Johnson, and gave us a fund of anecdotes, besides a good dinner.