but an active and unceasing philanthropy
can prevent any city from becoming so.

_Aug. 22._--I have now been six days in London, and by making good use
of my feet and eyes, have managed to become familiar with almost every
object of interest within its precincts. Having a plan mapped out for
the day, I started from my humble lodgings at the Aldgate Coffee House,
where I slept off fatigue for a shilling a night, and walked up
Cheapside or down Whitechapel, as the case might be, hunting out my way
to churches, halls and theatres. In this way, at a trifling expense, I
have perhaps seen as much as many who spend here double the time and
ten times the money. Our whole tour from Liverpool hither, by way of
Ireland and Scotland, cost us but twenty-five dollars each! although,
except in one or two cases, we denied ourselves no necessary comfort.
This shows that the glorious privilege of looking on the scenes of the
old world need not be confined to people of wealth and leisure. It may
be enjoyed by all who can occasionally forego a little bodily comfort
for the sake of mental and spiritual gain. We leave this afternoon for
Dover. Tomorrow I shall dine in Belgium!

CHAPTER VII.

FLIGHT THROUGH BELGIUM.

_Bruges._--On the Continent at last! How strangely look the century-old
towers, antique monuments, and quaint, narrow streets of the Flemish
cities! It is an agreeable and yet a painful sense of novelty to stand
for the first time in the midst of a people whose language and manners
are different from one's own. The old buildings around, linked with many
a stirring association of past history, gratify the glowing
anticipations with which one has looked forward to seeing them, and the
fancy is busy at work reconciling the _real_ scene with the _ideal_; but
the want of a communication with the living world about, walls one up
with a sense of loneliness he could not before have conceived. I envy
the children in the streets of Bruges their childish language.

Yesterday afternoon we came from London through the green wooded lawns
and vales of England, to Dover, which we reached at sunset, passing by a
long tunnel through the lofty Shakspeare Cliff. We had barely time
before it grew dark to ascend the cliff. The glorious coast view looked
still wilder in the gathering twilight, which soon hid from our sight
the dim hills of France. On the cliff opposite frowned the massive
battlements of the Castle, guarding the town, which