the rich mantle of the king, he trampled upon it saying, "thus I trample upon the pride of Alexander." "With greater pride, Diogenes," said the Macedonian king. This story took the good Friend's fancy, and pleased him immensely.

I had looked upon Franklin as a father of the American people, and expected to find in this city traces of him as numerous as his own cardinal points of morality. The last evening of my stay had come, and as yet I had seen nothing to remind me of him, except the Square called by his name, when "I drew a bow at a venture,” and asked a Quaker gentleman to show me the printer's house and grave. With ready courtesy he at once volunteered to go with me. The house stood in Franklin Square, near Hudson-Street. No traces of either home or printing shop now remain, but the spot can be pretty well identified. The present owner of the ground told me that when he came to build his mansion, he filled up an old well, and discovered a strong arched cave at the back of the wall. The old market-house in which Franklin used to address the citizens, is still standing, and is now a stable. His grave is in a church-yard at the corner of Arch and Fifth streets. The wall has been removed, and a railing put up in its place, so that people may see the plain grave-stone which simply records the name and age of him whose remains lie beneath. Some relatives of the name of Bache still live in Philadelphia, but the great man's name is extinct. By Americans, says my guide, Franklin is little known, and little enquired after. It is the old story of a "prophet without honor in his own country." Dilapidated Mount Vernon also proves this. The busy selfish world goes on, and in this city of Philadelphia, each one for himself, cares little or naught for the past. When thanking my guide for his courtesy, be remarked that his countrymen are not very ready to show

kindness to a stranger, but on my assuring him that I had been the recipient of manifold acts of kindness, he replied, "After all there is much in the way of accosting people !"

I had heard Lavine, a young American friend, tell of his adventures with London sharpers, but now I myself came very near being taken in by a Trans-Atlantic member of the fraternity. On Sunday afternoon there came into the pew in which I was sitting, a person with his arm in a sling. When service was over I held open the door for him to pass out, upon which he thanked me, saying that he bore a commission as Lieutenant in the United States navy, and had hurt his arm by a fall, while setting an example aloft to his seamen. The conversation was continued as we walked away from the church. The following are jottings of the story which he told me, given merely to show the ingenuity of these fellows. Though a great rogue, the deputy-Lieutenant was a clever man. He was a Briton by birth, of good Lincolnshire family, and educated at Oxford; having quarrelled with his father, he ran away to sea. In crossing the Atlantic he was fortunate enough to attract the Captain's notice. By him he was sent to the United States Academy, and then entered the navy. He is very proud of his profession-has been all over the world,—during the war was in 24 actions, and won Mr. Lincoln's gold medal. Pointing to one which was no doubt an imitation of the real medal, he said, "neither John Bull nor the United States have riches enough to buy it from me; it shall be by me transmitted to posterity as a precious heir-loom." The next step in this wonderful ladder was an attendance at our Queen's drawing-room. His sisters and brother recognised him at the Court Ball and came up to speak; one of his sisters fainted. Lieutenant Morgan has not written his family for 20 years and holds

no communication with them. He spoke of Admiral Farragut's European progress, and holds that the United States is the strongest power in the world; yet professes to respect me all the more for defending my own flag. He ridiculed the French line of Atlantic steamers, saying that with 10 of his blue jackets he would do the work, at sea, of 20 or 25 French sailors on the "Ville de Paris" in a storm. He wound up this remarkable story by asking me to go down to the Navy Yard on the morrow, when he would have a boat manned and show me round. A little fault in his replies when I pressed him for the name of his father's country seat in Lincolnshire, induced me before receiving further advances, to go down to the Navy Yard and trace the matter out. Arrived there, in the presence of the real officers, I found howThe greater glory doth out-dim the less, A substitute shines brightly as a king, Until a king be by.

Fine, manly fellows were the men who had won a right to wear Uncle Sam's uniform. By a careful examination of the service-lists, I found that Lieutenant Morgan was a myth, his story an imposture. The gentlemen in blue uniforms laughed heartily at the attempt that had been made to take in "Johnny Bull;" they said at once to me "You are an Englishman, ain't you"? and then, "have you lent him any money?" "for these Yankees will pull the teeth out of your head before you know it." This little by-play over, they showed me every kindness, and on leaving them, again warned me to be on my guard, "for your would-be friend is sure to turn up again, if you ain't on the alert."

I left the good Philadelphians in a most hospitable mood and in excellent countenance, for they were entertaining my countrymen, the "All England Eleven;" and the Saxons of both hemispheres were batting and bowling like a band of brothers.

MARYLAND.

E are not the first visitors to Maryland. Hither,

EU nearly two hundred and forty years ago, came

Lord Baltimore, and founded the city which bears his name. As the Huguenot families who flocked into Carolina have transmitted the old honoured names to American descendants, so you find in Maryland familiar names, which are held by English Catholic Gentry. You do not more surely find Ravenels and Vandaleurs, Remberts and Duboscs in the Palmetto State, than Vernons and Herberts in Maryland. Though the Catholic colony soon became "a land of sanctuary," and Protestant settlers came over its borders, the old faith is still held by its aristocratic families. Virginia is not prouder of its "F.F.V's" than Maryland of its "F.F.M's." While across the Potomac and eastward of the Shenandoah you find Randalls and Purcells, Raleighs and Fairfaxes, names which have the true ring of Elizabethan times about them; so at Baltimore and along the "Eastern shore" Nortons and Berkleys, L'Estranges and Temples are mingled with those of German and Swedish origin.

We know there are glades in the forest into which the sun never seems to penetrate; cool, leaf-screened grottos they are, in which we should not know how a meridian glory without is steeping the world in light, save for a