you what," said Mr. Slick, "I heerd an old critter to Halifax once
describe 'em beautiful. He said he could tell a man's politicks by his
shirt. 'A Tory, Sir,' said he, for he was a pompious old boy was old
Blue-Nose; 'a Tory, Sir,' said he, 'is a gentleman every inch of him,
stock, lock, and barrel; and he puts a clean frill shirt on every day.
A Whig, Sir,' says he, 'is a gentleman every other inch of him, and
he puts an onfrilled one on every other day. A Radical, Sir, ain't no
gentleman at all, and he only puts one on of a Sunday. But a Chartist,
Sir, is a loafer; he never puts one on till the old one won't hold
together no longer, and drops off in, pieces.'"

"Pooh!" said Mr. Hopewell, "now don't talk nonsense; but as I was
a-goin' to say, I am a plain man, and a straightforward man, Sam; what I
say, I mean; and what I mean, I say. Private and public life are subject
to the same rules; and truth and manliness are two qualities that
will carry you through this world much better than policy, or tact,
or expediency, or any other word that ever was devised to conceal, or
mystify a deviation from the straight line. They have a sartificate of
character, these consarvitives, in having the support of the Tories; but
that don't quite satisfy me. It may, perhaps, mean no more than this,
arter all--they are the best sarvants we have; but not as good as we
want. However, I shall know more about it soon; and when I do, I will
give you my opinion candidly. One thing, however, is certain, a change
in the institutions of a country I could accede to, approve, and
support, if necessary and good; but I never can approve of either an
individual or a party--'_changing a name_.'"

CHAPTER X. THE NELSON MONUMENT.

The following day being dry, we walked out to view the wonders of this
great commercial city of England, Liverpool. The side-paths were filled
with an active and busy population, and the main streets thronged with
heavily-laden waggons, conveying to the docks the manufactures of the
country, or carrying inward the productions of foreign nations. It was
an animating and busy scene.

"This," said Mr. Hopewell, "is solitude. It is in a place like this,
that you feel yourself to be an isolated being, when you are surrounded
by multitudes who have no sympathy with you, to whom you are not only
wholly unknown, but not one of whom you have ever seen before.

"The solitude of the vast American forest is not equal to this.
En