t attach importance to the etiquettes, of Quakerism.

In Sheffield I saw the sooty servitors tending their furnaces. I saw
them, also on Saturday night, after their work was done, going to
receive its poor wages, looking pallid and dull, as if they had spent
on tempering the steel that vital force that should have tempered
themselves to manhood.

We saw, also, Chatsworth, with its park and mock wilderness, and
immense conservatory, and really splendid fountains and wealth of
marbles. It is a fine expression of modern luxury and splendor, but
did not interest me; I found little there of true beauty or grandeur.

Warwick Castle is a place entirely to my mind, a real representative
of the English aristocracy in the day of its nobler life. The grandeur
of the pile itself, and its beauty of position, introduce you fitly
to the noble company with which the genius of Vandyke has peopled
its walls. But a short time was allowed to look upon these nobles,
warriors, statesmen, and ladies, who gaze upon us in turn with such a
majesty of historic association, yet was I very well satisfied. It
is not difficult to see men through the eyes of Vandyke. His way of
viewing character seems superficial, though commanding; he sees the
man in his action on the crowd, not in his hidden life; he does not,
like some painters, amaze and engross us by his revelations as to the
secret springs of conduct. I know not by what hallucination I forebore
to look at the picture I most desired to see,--that of Lucy, Countess
of Carlisle. I was looking at something else, and when the fat,
pompous butler announced her, I did not recognize her name from his
mouth. Afterward it flashed across me, that I had really been standing
before her and forgotten to look. But repentance was too late; I had
passed the castle gate to return no more.

Pretty Leamington and Stratford are hackneyed ground. Of the latter
I only observed what, if I knew, I had forgotten, that the room where
Shakespeare was born has been an object of devotion only for forty
years. England has learned much of her appreciation of Shakespeare
from the Germans. In the days of innocence, I fondly supposed that
every one who could understand English, and was not a cannibal, adored
Shakespeare and read him on Sundays always for an hour or more, and on
week days a considerable portion of the time. But I have lived to know
some hundreds of persons in my native land, without finding ten who
had any dir