into Liverpool by Mr. Rd. Rathbone, with his mother and Miss Hannah, and met Mr. Chorley by appointment, that we might make the respectful visits I owed. First to Edward Roscoe's, but saw only his charming wife; then to William Roscoe's. The venerable man had just returned from a walk, and in an instant our hands were locked. He asked me many questions about my publication, praised the engraving and the coloring. He has much changed. Time's violent influence has rendered his cheeks less rosy, his eye-brows more bushy, forced his fine eyes more deeply in their sockets, made his frame more bent, his walk weaker; but his voice had all its purity, his language all its brilliancy. I then went to the Botanic Gardens, where all was rich and beautiful; the season allows it. Then to Alexander Gordon's and Mr. Hodgson. Both out, and no card in my pocket. Just like me. I found the intelligent Swiss[1] in his office, and his "Ah, Audubon! Comment va?" was all-sufficient. I left him to go to Mr. Rathbone's, where I have spent every night except the last. As usual I escaped every morning at four for my walk and to write letters. I have not done much work since here, but I have enjoyed that which I have long desired, the society of my dear friends the Rathbones. Whilst writing this, I have often wished I could take in the whole at one glance, as I do a picture; this need has frequently made me think that writing a good book must be much more difficult than to paint a good picture. To my great joy, Mr. Bentley is going with me to London. With a heavy heart I said adieu to these dear Rathbones, and will proceed to London lower in spirits than I was in Edinburgh the first three days.
Shrewsbury, May 20. After all sorts of difficulties with the coach, which left one hour and a half late, we reached Chester at eleven, and were detained an hour. I therefore took a walk under the piazzas that go all through the
- ↑ Mr. Melly.
