A short time ago, in the evening, in a street of Liverpool, I saw a
decent man, of the lower orders, taken much aback by being roughly
brushed against by a rowdy fellow. He looked after him, and exclaimed
indignantly, "Is that a Yankee?" It shows the kind of character we have
here.
October 7th.--On Saturday evening, I gave a dinner to Bennoch, at the
Adelphi Hotel. The chief point or characteristic of English customs was,
that Mr. Radley, our landlord, himself attended at table, and officiated
as chief waiter. He has a fortune of 100,000 pounds,--half a million of
dollars,--and is an elderly man of good address and appearance. In
America, such a man would very probably be in Congress; at any rate, he
would never conceive the possibility of changing plates, or passing round
the table with hock and champagne. Some of his hock was a most rich and
imperial wine, such as can hardly be had on the Rhine itself. There were
eight gentlemen besides Bennoch.
A donkey, the other day, stubbornly refusing to come out of a boat which
had brought him across the Mersey; at last, after many kicks had been
applied, and other persecutions of that kind, a man stepped forward,
addressing him affectionately, "Come along, brother,"--and the donkey
obeyed at once.
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