Let me say, while I think of it, how much I was pleased
with the GREAT WESTERN. That upper saloon with the air passing
through it was a great comfort to me. The captain, the servants,
the table, are all excellent. Everything on board was as nice as in
the best hotel, and my gruels and broths beautifully made. One of
the stewardesses did more for me than I ever had done by any servant
of my own . . . Your father and Louisa were ill but three or four
days, and then your father read Tacitus and talked to the ladies,
while Louisa played with the other children.
The Adelphi, my first specimen of an English hotel, is perfectly
comfortable, and though an immense establishment, is quiet as a
private house. There is none of the bustle of the Astor, and if I
ring my bedroom bell it is answered by a woman who attends to me
assiduously. The landlord pays us a visit every day to know if we
have all we wish.
LONDON, Sunday, November 1
Here I am in the mighty heart, but before I say one word about it I
will go on from Wednesday evening with my journal. On Thursday,
though still very feeble, I dined at Green Bank, the country-seat of
Mr. William Rathbone. I was unwilling to leave Liverpool without
sharing with your father some of the hospitalities offered to us and
made a great effort to go. The place is very beautiful and the
house full of comfortable elegance.
The next morning we started for Birmingham, ninety-seven miles from
Liverpool, on our way to London, as I am unable to travel the whole
way in a day. On this railway I felt for the first time the
superiority of England to our own country. The cars are divided
into first, second, and third classes. We took a first-class car,
which has all the comforts of a private carriage.
Just as we entered Birmingham I observed the finest seat, surrounded
by a park wall and with a very picturesque old church, that I had
seen on the way. On enquiring of young Mr. Van Wart, who came to
see us in Birmingham (the nephew of Washington Irving), whose place
it was, he said it was now called Aston Hall and was owned by Mr.
Watt, but it was formerly owned by the Bracebridges, and was the
veritable "Bracebridge Hall," and that his uncle had passed his
Christmas there.
On arriving here we found our rooms all ready for us at Long's
Hotel, kept by Mr. Markwell, a wine merchant. The house is in New
Bond Street, in the very centre of movement at the West End, and Mr.
Markwell full of personal assiduity, which we never see with us.
