saint himself--a terror to all dragons--just before it. It is gray,
many columned, wide stepped, vast in its proportions. Do you care for
its measurement? Having seen that, you are ready to depart; and, indeed,
there is nothing to detain one here beyond a day of rest, a moment to
regain composure after the tossing of the sea. There are some
substantial dwellings,--for commerce has its kings,--and some fine
shops,--for commerce also has its queens,--and one fine drive, of which
we learned too late. The air of endurance, which pervades the whole
city, as it does all cities in the old world, impresses one greatly, as
though they were built for eternity, not time; the founders having
forgotten that here we are to have no continuing city. In the new world,
man tears down and builds up. Every generation moulds and fashions its
towns and cities after its own desires, or to suit its own means. Man is
master. In the old world, one generation after another surges in and out
of these grim, gray walls, leaving not so much as the mark the waves
leave upon the rocks. Unchanged, unchanging, they stand age after age,
time only softening the hard outlines, deepening the shadows it has cast
upon them, and so bringing them into a likeness of each other that they
seem to have been the design of one mind, the work of one pair of hands,
and hardly of mortal mind or hands at that. They seem to say to man, "We
have stood here ages before you were born. We shall stand here ages
after you are forgotten." They must be filled with echoes, with ghosts,
and haunting memories.

Bold Street, a tolerably narrow and winding way, in which many are found
to walk,--contrary to all precedent,--boasts the finest shops. Here the
Lancashire witches, as the beauties of the county are called, walk, and
talk, and buy gewgaws of an afternoon. It was something strange to us to
see long silken skirts entirely destitute of crinoline, ruffle, or
flounce, trailed here through mud and mire, or raised displaying low
Congress gaiters, destitute of heels. For ourselves, if we had been the
king of the Cannibal Islands, we could hardly have attracted more
attention than we did in our plain, short travelling suits and
high-heeled boots. It grew embarrassing, especially when our expression
of unqualified benevolence drew after us a train of beggars. They
crossed the street to meet us. They emerged from every side street and
alley, thrusting dirty hands into our faces, and repe