Early in August, 1869, Mr. Peebles embarked in the steamer "City of Brooklyn," from New York to Liverpool. "Adieu, sweet native land!" "Adieu!" is the shout of parting friends in the midst of waving handkerchiefs. On board this nautical social palace were Sir John Barrington, ex-Lord Mayor, of Dublin; Judge Field, together with various artists, poets, actresses, and philosophers — a literary world in miniature. The passage was not especially notable, though sufficiently rough to cause the passengers to hie away to their berths; but our voyager gloried in the ocean's revelry, and escaped the seasick contagion.

On the 18th of August, the "Brooklyn" touched at Queenstown, Ireland, and in a few hours more landed at Liverpool, the solid city that largely dictates the food-prices of the world.

Letters sent from the Old Country by our brother are so admirably descriptive of his experiences there, we publish them almost entire. These letters were penned to his friend, J. O. Barrett:

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'LIVERPOOL, Aug. 23, 1869. "DEAR BROTHER,- Am safely in the old world, yet feel new and fresh. Everything seems unique, substantial, and solid. Liverpool looks cold, stone buildings being large and dingy. Visited St. George's Hall, Birkenhead Park, planned by Sir Joseph Paxton. How magnificent! Mine host is James Wason, an eminent barrister; who has taken unwearied pains to show me Liverpool in its greatness and beauty, and Chester, an old walled city, abounding in ruins. The walls were laid in the time of Julius Cæsar. The Cathedral here interested me deeply. In it are the remains of distinguished personages, even the sarcophagus of Henry IV of Germany. English friendship is peculiarly attractive to Americans, as I find it in Judge Wason. Through his kindness, I was invited into the criminal court, where I saw judges and barristers attired in robes, wigs, and bands. Ancient, grave, they appeared, when spiritually sensed, as heartless as dignified. . . .

"Isn't it queer to be under the government of a woman? Wonder if I shall see the queen an English sister of

"MANCHESTER, ENGLAND, Aug. 27, 1869.

"MY AMERICAN FELLOW WORKER,-The railway journey to Manchester is through a garden of hedgegrows and flowers. English cultivation is admirable. Saw women in the harvestfields, women's rights! Traveling here is un-American: the engines are smaller, but more fleet. The English tunnel their hills and mountains. . . . Manchester is the Lowell of England. It numbers four hundred thousand. Its manufactures are vast; and its black-throated chimneys breathe out volumes of smoke, which, descending, cast a gloom over the city and its suburbs.

"A century gone, the religious authorities of this city persecuted Dr. Pohn Dee, permitted the rabble to indecorously treat John Wesley, throwing mud in his face, and imprisoned mother Ann Lee, the patron saint of the Shakers. . . . Yesterday, in company with Mr. Bailey, a poet and scholar, visited the pala

tial mansion of John Bright, of Rochdale,- name dear to every American. He is a rare man, perfectly easy, approachable, and agreeable; in fact, I find this is the case with all Englsh gentlemen. It is only snobs that put on airs. Our conversation was mostly upon peace,- the peace-movements of England and America. He intimated that the surest way to maintain peace, under the present status of civilization, is to maintain large standing armies. In this we differed. Standing armies imply readiness for war; and this incites the spirit of bloodshed. He spoke of American institutions in the highest terms. ... I have lectured in Manchester several times on Spiritualism but the mental soil seems hard and unimpressible. But few attended. Oh, how unlike those inspired meetings in America, where thousands gather under the green forests and on maple-shaded hills, to hear the angel's gospel. . . .

"I find Mr. John Hodgson a good Methodist minister, who preaches Spiritualism: when attacked by secularists, he manfully defended my positions. . . . My mind to-day turns continually upon Aaron Nite and Dr. E. C. Dunn. Wonder if I can certainly identify Aaron at Yorkshire? Knowing as I do, that there are obsessing spirits who assume false names for selfish ends, if I fail in this attempt, it will be the first time that I have doubted his individuality for many years. I shall go there, and thoroughly test the matter.". . .

"YORK CITY, ENGLAND, Aug. 30, 1869. "MY TRANSATLANTIC BROTHER,- As I wrote you the other day, one all-absorbing thought has been on my mind. 'To Yorkshire' has haunted me. 'I must,' I said, 'see the ancient home of my spirit-brother, Aaron Nite.' And here I am. It seems to me a sacred city. Am I a spirit-worshiper? - Not worshiper, but admirer. Eleven years since, Aaron told me about these very scenes which are now before my eyes. How wonderful! Here the River Ouse; St. Mary's Abbey, in ruins; the Minster, the beautiful window-designs; the location of the Virgin Mary, with the serpent under her feet, the rocks and lawns where he played when a mere boy,- all exactly as he many times pictured them.

Accompanied by Robert Green, Esq., of Brotherton, I hunted to-day in the Annals of York,' but failed to get any clue of identity, until a venerable antiquarian directed us to the 'Will Office;' where, securing the services of the clerk in overhauling the records, I asked him to go back two hundred years, and search for the Knights,- a family famous for its clerical distinctions. He did so; and, to my joy and delight, he found the name of Rev. James Knight, the identical brother of Aaron. The test was perfect. Let me never doubt. He insists upon spelling his name in old Anglo-Saxon style, according to the sound,- Nite. The original name was McKnight; and the family was connected with the McKnights who commented on the Gospels. I procured a full copy of the original record, with this translation from the Latin,—

"Twenty-fourth of October, 1714, James Knight, A. M., was ordained deacon in the Savoy Chapel, London, and priest in the same chapel on the following Sunday.'- From the Institution Book in the Archi-episcopal Registry, York, England. "Oh, I rejoice in the fact that I have tasted of the ministry of angels!"...

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"GLASGOW, SCOTLAND, Sept. 1, 1869.

BROTHER OF THE WEST,- Am in Scotland,— dear old land of my ancestors. It thrills my soul with joy to tread these hills, pluck the heather, ramble these woods, reminding me of Burn's 'Cotter's Saturday Night,'- of the homeward cotter from his rustic toil. Reflecting upon the configurations of this country, I can well understand what made a Burns, a Wallace, a Bruce, a Marvelle, and a Hugh Miller, who, in a vain attempt to reconcile the book of Genesis with geology, became mentally unbalanced, and passed by his own hand to the better land. . . . My meeting on Sunday at Glasgow was a success: hall packed, Prof. J. W. Jackson in the chair. Stopping now with friend Nisbet. The Clarks, Browns, and Duguid, the spiritartist, have called upon me: they are all good, genial Scotch. I already love them. Wonder if I shall think as much of the Londoners. . . . Should like to describe to you the scenes and my emotions whilst passing up the Tweed to Berwick Castle,

and by the old town of Peebles, mentioned in Burns's poems, and rendered famous in Sir Walter Scott's novels. . . . Of Edinburgh, what a beautiful city!-it is truly entitled to the appellation of Modern Athens.' After repairing to the publishing house of William and Robert Chambers, I visited John Knox's house, one of the oldest buildings in the city. . . . Did I tell you that I was in Farnley Hall, seeing the paintings of Vandyke, Rubens, Turner, and other masters? They are superb. I saw Cromwell's broad-brimmed hat; the table at which he dined the day before the battle of the Moor, in 1644; the swords of that hero, and of Lambert and Fairfax. . . . Our Day Out' down the Clyde, among the lakes, nestling among the mountains, how beautiful, sunny, sweet! The scenery equals anything I have seen, though not on so magnificent scale. Queen Victoria was on the lake the same day; had a fine view of her majesty's highness. She is a good sister, a true mother, and, as ruler, exerts a good moral influence, and is dearly beloved by her subjects. I have written Mrs. Peebles all about this, descriptive of the heather hills that bore on their ragged bosoms the hearts of our progenitors, and particularly of the good queen.

"Ever thine,

Next we find him in London - the great world brain and heart of commerce. This London! which has had for us such a thrilling history since the generals of Julius Cæsar defeated Boadicea, the Queen of Britain at the time of the Roman Conquest. Here a portion of that wonderful history was enacted, which we associate with Alfred the Great; in the ninth century, with the termination of the Anglo-Saxon government under Harold; by William the Conqueror, in the eleventh century. Here the Magna Charta was forced from King John, in the thirteenth century. That London which witnessed the great English Reformation, under Henry VIII, which emancipated England from the domain of the papal yoke; then its return under Mary Tudor; and its final restoration to the Protestant world, under Elizabeth, early in the scventeenth century.