August 12th.--J----- and I went to Birkenhead Park yesterday. There is a
large ornamental gateway to the Park, and the grounds within are neatly
laid out, with borders of shrubbery. There is a sheet of water, with
swans and other aquatic fowl, which swim about, and are fed with dainties
by the visitors. Nothing can be more beautiful than a swan. It is the
ideal of a goose,--a goose beautified and beatified. There were not a
great many visitors, but some children were dancing on the green, and a
few lover-like people straying about. I think the English behave better
than the Americans at similar places.
There was a camera-obscure, very wretchedly indistinct. At the
refreshment-room were ginger-beer and British wines.
August 21st.--I was in the Crown Court on Saturday, sitting in the
sheriff's seat. The judge was Baron ------, an old gentleman of sixty,
with very large, long features. His wig helped him to look like some
strange kind of animal,--very queer, but yet with a sagacious, and, on
the whole, beneficent aspect. During the session some mischievous young
barrister occupied himself with sketching the judge in pencil; and, being
handed about, it found its way to me. It was very like and very
laughable, but hardly caricatured. The judicial wig is an exceedingly
odd affair; and as it covers both ears, it would seem intended to prevent
his Lordship, and justice in his person, from hearing any of the case on
either side, that thereby he may decide the better.
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