grocer are troubling him. Were we within a yard of that round-shouldered man from the country, we should smell leather; for he works on his bench, and his unmarried. Here comes an atheist, who is a joker, and stubborn as a mule. There goes a man of no business at all: very probably it is the best occupation he is fitted for, as he has no concentrativeness. The schoolmistress crossing the street is an accomplished teacher, is very sympathetic, and has great love of approbation. That lawyer is a bachelor, and distrusts his own strength. This merchant should give up the use of tobacco, and pay his notes before dinner, else he will become a dyspeptic. Here comes a man of wealth, who despises the common people and is miserly and hypocritical; and next to him is a scamp. I think it is Burke who says, When the gnawing worm is within, the impression of the ravage it makes is visible on the outside, which appears quite disfigured by it' and in that young man the light that was within him has become darkness, and how great is that darkness !'" payment for his loss, so far as my observation | his tricks. The affairs of this kind-hearted extended, he seemed to have been governed by no other purpose in life than the extermination of that great gang of robbers which he subsequently discovered. Add to these incentives and capacities his extraordinary perceptive faculties and power of analytical observation, together with his wonderful patience, and it must be granted that he was qualified to discover in any incident connected with his pursuits more of its component parts than all other beholders, and had greater opportunities than almost any other man by which to be informed how it is that "the heart of a man changeth his countenance." If I remember rightly, it was some two years after our acquaintance commenced that I became aware of Mr. Sidney's proficiency as a physiognomist, and it was then communicated, not so much by his choice as by a necessity, for the accomplishment of one of his purposes. The object of Mr. Sidney's visit to the city of L-, at that time, was nothing less difficult than the discovery and identification of an individual of whom no other knowledge or description had been obtained than what could be extracted from the inspection, in another city, of a single specimen of his handwriting in the superscription of a letter. So much from so little. Within three days thereafter, with no other instrumentalities than that were suggested by Mr. Sidney's expertness in deciphering character in handwriting and his proficiency as a physiognomist, the result was reached and the object happily attained. In the prosecution of the enterprise, it was important, if not essential, that I should believe that the data were sufficient by which to arrive at a correct conclusion, and that I should confide in Mr. Sidney's skill in order that there might be hearty co-operation. My office was so situated, that from its windows could most advantageously be observed. and for a considerable distance, the vast throng that ebbed and flowed, hour after hour, through the great thoroughfares of the city. For the part of three consecutive days I sat by Mr. Sidney's side, watching the changing crowd through the half-opened shutters, listening incredulously, at first, to the practical application of his science to the unsuspecting individuals below, till my derition was changed to admiration, and I was thoroughly convinced of his power. As my friends of both sexes passed under the ordeal, it was intensely bewitching. Hour after hour would he give, with rapidity and correctness, the occupation and peculiarity of character and condition of almost every individual who passed. This was not occasional, but continuous. The marked men were not singled out, but all were included. He was a stranger, and yet better acquainted with the people than any of our citizens. And this was the manner of his speaking: "That physician has a better opinion of himsalf than the people have of him: he is superficial, and makes up in effrontery what he lacks in qualification. The gambler yonder, with a Loothpick in his mouth, has of late succeeded in Of some qualities of mind he would occasionally decline to speak until he could see the features in play, as in conversation. Some occupations he failed to discover, if the arms were folded, or the hands in the pockets, or the body not in motion. It is not my purpose to specify any of the rules by which he was governed, though they differed materially from those of Lavater, Redfield, and others, nor the facts from which he drew his conclusions, but simply to give results. I selected from the crowd acquaintances of marked character and standing, and obtained accurate descriptions of them. Of one he said, "He is a good merchant, and has done and is doing a large business. He carries his business home with him at night, as he should not. He has been wealthy, and is now reduced in circumstances. His disaster weighs heavily upon him. He has a high sense of honour, a keen conscience, and is a meek, religious man. He has great goodness of nature, is very modest and retiring, has more abilities than he supposes, and is a man of family and very fond of his children." Another he accurately describes thus: "He is a mechanic, of a good mind, who has succeeded so well that I doubt if he is in active business. Certainly he does not labour. He is very independent and radical, can be impudent, if occasion requires, gives others all their rights, and pertinaciously insists upon his own." Here the mechanic took his hands from his pocket. "Hold! I said he was a mechanic. He is not, he is a house-painter." I desired to be informed by what indications he judged him to be a painter. He replied, that he so judged from the general appearance and motions, and that it was difficult to specify. I insisted, and he remarked that "the easy roll of his wrists was indicative." After obtaining similar correct descriptions of men well-known to me, I spied one whom I did Q not know, and who was dressed peculiarly. I inquired his occupation, and Mr. Sidney, without turning a glance towards me, and still gazing through the half-opened shutters, replied, "Yes! you never saw him before yourself. He is a stranger in town, as is evident from the fact of his being dressed in his best suit, and by the manner of his taking observations. Besides, there is no opportunity in these parts for him to follow his trade. He is a glass-blower. You may perceive he is a little deaf, and the curvature of his motions also indicates his occupation." Whether this description was correct or not I failed to ascertain. Mr. Sidney contended that any man of ordinary perceptive faculties need never mistake a gambler, as the marks on the tribe were as distinct as the complexion of the Ethiopian,that, of honest callings, dealers in cattle could | be most easily discovered, that immorality indicated its kind invariably in the muscles of the face, that sympathetic qualities, love, and the desire of being loved, taste and refinement, were among the most perspicuous in the outline of the face. A man of very gentlemanly appearance was approaching, whom Mr. Sidney pronounced a gambler, and also engaged in some other branch of iniquity. His appearance was so remarkably good that I donbted. He turned the corner, and immediately Mr. Sidney hastened to the street and soon returned, saying he had ascertained his history: that he was in the counterfeiting department, that his conscience affected his nerves, and consequently his motions, that he was a stranger in town, and was restless and disquited, that he would not remain many hours here, as he had an enterprise on hand, and was about it. I remarked, that, as the contrary never could be proved, he was perfectly safe in his prophecy, when Mr. Sidney rose from his chair, and, approaching me, slowly said, with great energy : he was offered a premium on the bills he had collected. At St. L- he obtained known genuine bill of the bank in question, and in company with a broker proceeded to examine the two with a microscope. The broker pronounced the supposed counterfeits to be genuine. In the meantime the gambler had left the city. Two days after Mr. Sidney had overtaken him. So great were his excitement and vexation that he could scarcely eat or sleep. In a fit of desperation, without law and against law, he pounced upon the suspected man and arrested him. He beat a parley. It was granted, and the two went to the gambler's apartments in company. In a conversation of several hours, Mr. Sidney extracted from him the most valuable information relating to the gang he was so pertinaciously prosecuting, and received into his possession forty-seven hundred pounds in counterfeits of the aforesaid bank, some of which I now have in my possession, and which have been pronounced genuine by our most skilful experts. It would be gratifying to all lovers of science to be informed that the practical knowledge acquired by Mr. Sidney had been preserved, and that at least the elementary principles of the arts in which he became so nearly perfect had been definitely explained and recorded. I am not aware, however, that such is the fact, but am persuaded that his uniform policy of concealment has deprived the world of much that would have been exceedingly entertaining and instructive. That this knowledge has not been preserved is owing mainly to the fact that he considered it of little importance, except as a means for the accomplishment of his purposes, and that those purposes would be most effectually achieved by his withholding from the common gaze the instrumentality by which they were to be attained. That he intended at some future period to make some communication to the public I am well assured, and some materials were collected by him with this view; but the hot pursuit of the great idea that he never for an hour lost sight of would not allow sufficient rest from his labours, and he deferred the publication to those riper years of experience and acquirement from which he could survey his whole past career. "I will follow that man till it is proved." The next day but one I received a note from Mr. Sidney, simply saying, "I am on his track." He followed the supposed counterfeiter to R, where he ascertained that he had passed bills of the bank of Mr. Sidney It may be comforting for all rogues to know obtained the bills the gambler had passed to that he left behind him no note of that vast compare with the genuine. Failing, however, to amount of statistical knowledge which he find any of the same denomination, he presented possessed, whether appertaining to crimes or the supposed counterfeits to a broker skilled in criminals in general or particular, and that with detecting bad bills, and was surprised to be him perished all knowledge of this organized band informed that they were genuine. At B-he of robbers, etc., and the names of all the repeated the inquiry at the counter of a well-parties therewith connected. They also have the known banker relative to other similar bills, and received the same response. So again in WD. C-, and several other cities whither he had followed the suspected man, and invariably the reply of the cashier would be, "We will exchange our bills for them, sir." In some cities consolation, if there be any, of knowing that he was sent prematurely to his grave by a subtle poison, administered by unknown hands and in an unknown manner and moment, and that he died in the firm faith of immortality. THE SECOND CITY IN THE LAND. BY JOHN CHURCHILL BRENAN. I said I would go to Liverpool. But at that time I might as well have ordered the captain of the royal yacht to steam me up the Nile, or have sent for Mr. Macgregor's little "Rob Roy" canoe to take me a voyage round the world; or chartered the Cremorne balloon on an excursion to the man in the moon. It is easy enough for a poor mortal to say he will do a thing: doing it is rather more difficult. Circumstances will go against him, In any case "circumstances" meant health, money, and opportunity. I am not a slave, nor a pauper, nor a bed-ridden individual; and yet these three things, sometimes by turns and sometimes altogether, ordained that I should stay at home. When I had been less extravagant than usual, and was able to afford a journey, I found that I I could not get away; and when my time happened to be my own, bodily ills were sure to pay me a visit. In their case it was useless to say "Not at home." But notwithstanding all this, I gave it out wherever I went that I was going to Liverpool; and I was much amused at the remarks my assertion provoked. A city friend said that I ought certainly to see Liverpool, and make South Castle-street my point of observation. "There are men there, sir, worth half-a-million, who commenced life by sweeping the office floor." I told my intention to a child of Thespis, who had been playing Richard and Macbeth in the provinces, but soon found himself amongst the general utilities when he was engaged at a London theatre. He was enthusiastic about the city on the Mersey. "No hiding talent under a bushel. Managers give a fellow a chance. True, they generally come to grief; but what matters the bankruptcy of a manager, if the public get a chance of seeing genius in a leading part." A seafaring acquaintance tried to give me some idea of the Docks, but he found the subject too vast for description. "See 'em yourself, my boy. Saint Katha rine's, the London, and the Commercial Docks all joined together would be nothing in comparison." And, lastly, a wicked friend hinted that I wished to see the Lancashire Witches. Why did I wish to go? Well, it was not a very great many years ago that I became really acquainted with the First City in the Land; for, though London-born and bred (snobs would be ashamed of owning themselves Cockneys; not being a snob I glory in the honour), my youth was spent in the suburbs, and fourteen years had glided peacefully over my head (as I should say were I writing a novel) before I was familiar with the streets that are paved with gold. True, I had often been "taken" to the Modern Babylon on visits to friends and relations, but though not quite so ignorant as a friend who thought Cheapside the West End, and took the Duke of York's Column for the nothing to do but grin and bear it. Happily we then reached Rugby Junction, and I was able to get out and promenade the platform for half an-hour, whilst our train was shunted off somewhere to allow the express to pass. Next time I got into a smoking carraige. My companions were three fishermen, laden with the spoils of the briny. They told me they made the journey two or three times a week; but as their business was merely to hawk fish about the streets of Liverpool, how they made it pay seemed to me a mystery. We stop in the midst of a large station, full of life and bustle, and I get occasional glimpses of Birmingham: we fear through the Black Country, where the furnaces, glowing in the darkness, look like so many earthly pandemoniums; we halt for a few minutes at Wolverhampton; and at last, when it seems as if I had been at least three days sitting in a railway-carriage, we reach our journey's end, and I find myself on the platform of the Lime-street Station, Liverpool. People in want of a new sensation should enter a large city, long after dark, being perfectly unacquainted with the place, and having no particular destination. Such was my case. Happily on quitting the Lime-street Station you find yourself in the very centre of the town, in what I may call the Trafalgar Square of Liverpool. Opposite, across an immense stone-paved square, is St. George's Hall, one of the finest buildings in England. To the right and left are several wide, well-lighted streets; so that, having studied the map, I understood where I was at once. To find an hotel was an easy thing in a city which is always full of travellers; and I was not sorry to find myself seated in a well-furnished coffee-room, which looked immensely cheerful after sitting all day in the train. If good cooking, moderate charges, and quick attendance are necessary to dining, then the Liverpool hotels are model houses of entertainment; and here I must mention something, trifling in itself, but still one of the "customs of the country." At one end of the coffee-room was a glass-door, leading to a smaller apartment. -on that door was painted "Smoke Room." The same expressian was used all over Liverpool. In London we say smoking-room; but in Wales that particular chamber is called "The Smoky." The beer-language of the North is rather apt to confuse a Southerner. Stout is an unknown word; neither have they London porter at twopence a pint, their only black beer being porter at twopence a glass, equal, if not superior to our best stout, and with a "cauliflower" on the top, such as is seldom seen except in those wonderful paintings of bread, cheese, and beer generally hanging up in the parlour of a Kentish country-inn. The Liverpool ale has a head" with a slight strawberry flavour, and, though it is generally threepence a glass, no one can grumble at the extra penny; for on tasting it I was able to imagine what the beverage was like that Hebe handed round to the jolly Olympian deities. Before quitting such a very low subject as beer, I must relate one more circumstance, A large brewing firm has hit upon quite a novel and picturesque form of advertisement. Hanging in front of their customers' public-houses are large barrels, painted many colours, and with gas-jets inside. As there are dozens of these barrels on each side of all the principal streets, the effect at night-time is quite Oriental, and gives the town the appearance of a gigantic Cremorne, specially illuminated for the proprietor's benefit. After dinner I read the local papers, and made myself acquainted with what was "going on" in the town. Then I wandered out, across the stone-paved Square, past Saint George's Hall, and into Whitechapel-not to be compared with our Eastern High-street, but more like the Haymarket-cafés here, cafés there, and cafés everywhere. Where there are not cafés there are public-houses. The cafés are of two sorts. The better sort are showy-looking places with plenty of looking-glasses and gilding, and refreshment served in a style that even Spiers and Pond could not improve upon. Here meet the fast young men of the town. Liverpood, it must be remembered, has no aristocracy; and the yesterday nobodies, to-day large merchants, are the principal men of the place. They work hard, make money fast, and spend it faster; for there is much of the American element about them. To see well-dressed young gentlemen going Tommy Dodd for bottles of champagne may not be a very intellectual sight, but that is what I saw. The lower cafés were much more amusing, if less refined. Generally kept by Germans, there was a certain order and respectability about them, which, alas! we only expect to see in foreign places of amusement. With real Frauleins behind the bar, drawing the ale of Vienna or the beer of Bavaria; with Lüdwig or Johann politely attending upon the customers; and with a quadrille-band playing the dreamy waltzes of Strauss and Gung'), it wanted very little imagination to fancy ourselves in Fatherland. The café chantant is chiefly frequented by sailors; and the specimens I saw were very different from the conventional Jacks ashore. Quiet, sober men, silently playing at cards or dominoes, smoking cigars, and sipping lemonade, were certainly an improvement upon the rackety Jacks which Nelson commanded and Captain Marryat immortalized. There were also cafés dansante, where Bill Bowling and Ben Bunting danced polkas and redowas (sailors only dance hornpipes on the stage now) with Poll and Sue; but as those young ladies would just as soon bite off Jack's ear as mix his grog, and were more likely to pawn his clothes than mend them, the less said about them the better. For it seems hard that Jack, whose only idea of "shore" is a place where he can be jolly, should become the prey of a set of tigresses, who only leave him when his last penny is spent and his last rag pawned; though until lately such was his certain fate; but now there is a Sailors' Home in Liverpool, where Jack is well taken care of; and it is by no means an unusual thing for him to set out on a fresh voyage with Sitting in one of these cafés late at night, I get a sermon on fast life far more telling than many preached from a pulpit. It is furnished like a drawing-room-Brussels carpet, elegant chairs and sofas, pictures, mirrors, and gaslight in abundance. There is no stage; but the lady and gentlemen professionals sing standing by the piano. At a first glance everybody seems to be overflowing with happiness; but all is not gold that glitters. Next to me is a comic-singer, in the approved evening-dress, looking the pic ture of misery. Whispering together across a table are two would-be fast young men (ten years ago they would have been called boys), who seem anything but "jolly" to-night. And not far off are a couple of ladies," dressed a la Mabile, one of whom is drinking unlimited hot whisky and water, and telling her troubles to the other. The comic-singer makes me his confidant. He has not been able to sing for three weeks-something the matter with his throat; if he is not better by Saturday, he will lose his engagement. What will he do then? Perhaps end his troubles (?) by throwing himself into the Mersey. When the music grows faint I hear what the "boys" have to say. One has lost his situation-refused a character, owes money, and quarrelled with the "guvnor." The old story, betting and billiards. And yet his companion, instead of taking the warning, only boasts of his numerous acquaintances on the "turf" and amongst the "fancy." Then their conversation is drowned in the chorus-such a chorus ! "I swore I'd follow her everywhere, She'd cherry-red lips and pretty blue eyes, The "lady" calls for more whisky- and-water hot. "O, I love it," she says, draining the glass; "I've spent three fortunes in drink, and I'd spend three more if I had 'em." She went to the doctor that morning,—rapid consumption. Her rent is due, and her landlord threatens. "I have a little boy at home, such a sweet little fellow! His father says he will take it and bring him up like a gentleman if I promise never to want to see him again; but when he puts his little arms round my neck, and kisses me, I feel that I could do anything, anything sooner than part with him." And then they all sing about the "girl with the golden hair.' Well, if this is fast life, let me be the slowest of the slow. The streets are still crowded. A policeman tells me that the young men make a boast of never going to bed sober. At all events, they get inebriated, as the English are supposed to take their pleasures-very sadly. No Jolly Dogs, no Rollicking Rams, such as disturb the sleeping Londoners with their midnight choruses; but gangs of quiet men, who stand at bars as long as the publics remain open, and then loiter lazily home to bed. At my hotel everybody is up, though it is past one o'clock. The coffee-room full of night birds, of course all staying in the house. As I came to see Liverpool life, I join them. The room is decorated with real and artificial flowers; and on the sideboards I see every variety of red and green Bohemian glass. There is something particularly luxurious about coloured glass. In one respect the Liverpudlians show their sense, they smoke long clay pipes. In London this would be considered low; but now that every office-boy and barber'sclerk sports a cheap meerschaum, I cannot see why it should be so. Tobacco tastes much nicer in a clay, especially a long one; and the Liverpool long clays were the best I ever met with, nearly twice as long as those sold in London,and tipped with green sealing-wax. Seeing so many gentlemen smoking long pipes, gave the scene the appearance of one of Hogarth's pictures. During my stay in Liverpool I made good use of my time, and saw, I think, all that was worth seeing in the great northern city. I had two enemies, who did all in their power to prevent my getting about, the wind and the rain. It was not a wind that one could hear indoors, and take precautions against accordingly, neither was it a rain you could depend upon. When I went out in the morning there was every prospect of a fine day; but as soon as I found myself in an unsheltered spot, rude Boreas commenced cracking his cheeks, and Aquarius emptied his watering-pot. Scotland-road is about one of the longest roads up and down which I have wandered, beginning with large shops, such as we have in the Borough and Ludgate Hill (where the useful is more considered than the ornamental), and ending amongst the squalid dens of the poor Irish. Poor Irish, indeed! Whenever they manage to get a 66 quarter" at all it is sure to be in the lowest and least healthy part of the town. Here boots, shoes, and stockings, are evidently considered unnecessary luxuries, men, women, and children; going about barefooted. In fact I never entered a minor theatre or music-hall without seeing as many bare feet in the pit and gallery as I saw boots. But considering the ills we suffer from corns and bunions, to say nothing of our feet growing into different shapes from what nature intended, I think those people were rather to be envied than pitied. Scotland-road is one way to the docks; considered in Liverpool the eighth wonder of the world. Certainly such a number of ships, from every country in the world, are never seen together in one place. In "sweet summer-time" those docks must be a delightful lounging place, the walk along the outer basin, and the Mersey dashing against the walls, and the fine view up and down the river, being quite romantic; but as the wind seemed determined to blow me over the unprotected edge whenever I went near it, regard for personal safety overcame my love of the picturesque, and I was |