It may be the better way.
A French military man, a veteran of all Napoleon's wars, is now living,
with a false leg and arm, both movable by springs, false teeth, a false
eye, a silver nose with a flesh-colored covering, and a silver plate
replacing part of the skull. He has the cross of the Legion of Honor.
March 18th.--On Saturday I went with Mr. B---- to the Dingle, a pleasant
domain on the banks of the Mersey almost opposite to Rock Ferry. Walking
home, we looked into Mr. Thorn's Unitarian Chapel, Mr. B----'s family's
place of worship. There is a little graveyard connected with the chapel,
a most uninviting and unpicturesque square of ground, perhaps thirty or
forty yards across, in the midst of back fronts of city buildings. About
half the space was occupied by flat tombstones, level with the ground,
the remainder being yet vacant. Nevertheless, there were perhaps more
names of men generally known to the world on these few tombstones than in
any other churchyard in Liverpool,--Roscoe, Blanco White, and the Rev.
William Enfield, whose name has a classical sound in my ears, because,
when a little boy, I used to read his "Speaker" at school. In the vestry
of the chapel there were many books, chiefly old theological works, in
ancient print and binding, much mildewed and injured by the damp. The
body of the chapel is neat, but plain, and, being not very large, has a
kind of social and family aspect, as if the clergyman and his people must
needs have intimate relations among themselves.
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