THE JOURNEY TO LIVERPOOL."Like a bark upon the sea, Life is floating over death; Above, below, encircling thee, Danger lurks in every breath. Parted art thou from the grave Only by a plank most frail; Tossed upon the restless wave, Sport of every fickle gale. Let the skies be e'er so clear, And so calm and still the sea, Shipwreck yet has he to fear, Who life's voyager will be."Rückert.The early trains for Liverpool, on Monday morning, were crowded by attorneys, attorneys' clerks, plaintiffs, defendants, and witnesses, all going to the Assizes. They were a motley assembly, each with some cause for anxiety stirring at his heart; though, after all, that is saying little or nothing, for we are all of us in the same predicament through life; each with a fear and a hope from childhood to death. Among the passengers there was Mary Barton, dressed in the blue gown and obnoxious plaid shawl.Common as railroads are now in all places as a means of transit, and especially i
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