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For Frederick Douglass' Paper.

LETTERS FROM THE OLD WORLD.

Number XXXII.

THE DINGLE, LIVERPOOL, Oct. 21, '56.

MY DEAR FRIEND: —I am scribbling this in the sweet and shady retreat on the banks of the Rivery Mersey, known as the "Dingle," or "Dingle Bank." The readers of "Sunny Memories," will probably bring to mind Mrs. H. B. Stowe's sketch of this charming spot—the residence of the COOPER family. It is not in your delineations of the people you are visiting; and, therefore, I forbear saying much that I should have liked to tell my American friends, about my excellent host, and hostess, and the large and delightful family by whom they are surrounded. The beautiful grounds of the Dingle comprise (I am told) nearly twenty acres of plantation—shrubbery, pasture, and garden ground extending to the water's edge; walks of every variety traverse these grounds in all directions. Here the trees meet over your head, and the crisp, brown leaves of autumn fall beneath your feet. Here, in shady, pleasant nooks, you come upon pretty little summer-houses, rustic bridges, and romantic windings. Delightful is the Terrace by this side of the river. Here the rambler is fanned by the fresh breezes of the Mersey; he watches the white sails of the pretty vessels that are gliding by, I have just come in from a charming walk, through the Dingle. The weather is very lovely for England, and for this season of the year; and although our autumn foliage lacks the brilliant hues that color your American forests, our woods are just now very grand, arrayed in their dress of darker and more sombre russet brown. Among the most attractive ornaments of the Dingle, are the groups of lovely children that one meets in all directions, hounding hither and thither in full enjoyment of their liberty. Just now I came suddenly upon a pretty little summer (or winter) house by the water; and there I found two sweet little boys, sons of MATTHEW ARNOLD, Esq., the poet, and grandsons of our much beloved Dr. ARNOLD; and then I came upon another little boy, who is called DENMAN, after his grand-papa, the late Lord Chief Justice DENMAN. Time fails me to tell you of the rich plantations of trees, its choice evergreens, fine flower gardens and conservatories, and its three pretty English cottage residences, all so snugly located in the midst of the grounds.—As for the inmates—so good, so kind, so wise,

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