On reaching Liverpool, and partaking of a good breakfast, for which we paid double price, we proceeded to the railway station, and were soon going at a rate unknown to those accustomed to travel on one of our American railways.  At a little past two o’clock in the afternoon, we saw in the distance the out-skirts of London.  We could get but an indistinct view, which had the appearance of one architectural mass, extending all round to the horizon, and enveloped in a combination of fog and smoke; and towering above every other object to be seen, was the dome of St. Paul’s Cathedral.

A few moments more, and we were safely seated in a “Hansom’s Patent,” and on our way to Hughes’s—­one of the politest men of the George Fox stamp we have ever met.  Here we found forty or fifty persons, who, like ourselves, were bound for the Peace Congress.  The Sturges, the Wighams, the Richardsons, the Allens, the Thomases, and a host of others not less distinguished as friends of peace, were of the company—­many of whom I had heard of, but none of whom I had ever seen; yet I was not an entire stranger to many, especially to the abolitionists.  In company with a friend, I sallied forth after tea to take a view of the city.  The evening was fine—­the dense fog and smoke having to some extent passed away, left the stars shining brightly, while the gas light from the street lamps and the brilliant shop windows gave it the appearance of day-light in a new form.  “What street is this?” we asked.  “Cheapside,” was the reply.  The street was thronged, and every body seemed to be going at a rapid rate, as if there was something of importance at the end of the journey.  Flying vehicles of every description passing each other with a dangerous rapidity, men with lovely women at their sides, children running about as if they had lost their parents—­all gave a brilliancy to the scene scarcely to be excelled.  If one wished to get jammed and pushed about, he need go no farther than Cheapside.  But every thing of the kind is done with a degree of propriety in London, that would put the New Yorkers to blush.  If you are run over in London, they “beg your pardon;” if they run over you in New York, you are “laughed at:”  in London, if your hat is knocked off it is picked up and handed to you; if, in New York, you must pick it up yourself.  There is a lack of good manners among Americans that is scarcely known or understood in Europe.  Our stay in the great metropolis gave us but little opportunity of seeing much of the place; for in twenty-four hours after our arrival we joined the rest of the delegates, and started on our visit to our Gallic neighbours.