I was born at Edge Hill, Liverpool, in 1840--it gives some perspective to this date when we remember that the year 1839 witnessed the first publication of Bradshaw's Railway Guide, and the inauguration of the penny post. It was the year after the accession and marriage of Queen Victoria, and one of the last of the dark years of the fiscal policy of Protection in England; so that I may claim that my seventy years have witnessed a material progress on every side, which has been simply marvellous, and has eclipsed in the brilliancy of achievement any former period in the history of our country. The use of the steam-engine has been increased and extended until it has become the handmaiden of every industrial occupation; and following in its train we have seen the development of the spinning jenny, and the blast furnace. And to-day we see that steam is being dethroned from its high position by the electrical dynamo and the hydraulic ram, and the turbine is taking the place of the reciprocating engine. The internal combustion engine has been invented, and the motor-car is rapidly superseding the horse-drawn vehicle; while the biplane and monoplane have given a reality to aviation which never entered the most visionary dreams of a few years ago. My father's house at Edge Hill overlooked the grounds of Mount Vernon Hall and the gardens of the vicarage; to the east were open fields, with a few large villas dotted about. Fashionable Liverpool still dwelt in the large Georgian houses fringing Everton Hill, which looked down upon one of the loveliest views imaginable. In the foreground were the trees and woods which ran along what is now Netherfield Road; beyond these the river flowed; in the distance the Wirral peninsula stretched out, backed by the Welsh hills. But the town of Liverpool was pushing its way up to Everton, and San Domingo Road was ceasing to be fashionable; while Aigburth, Prince's Park, and Edge Lane were rapidly becoming the most popular suburbs of the fast-rising seaport. Soon after I was born my father removed to Marsh Lane, Bootle, and there were few more charming spots at that time. I remember the grand trees which encircled Bootle Hall and overarched Marsh Lane; here dwelt in sylvan retreats the Mathers, the Birches, and the Tyrers. The trees extended down to the sea-shore, where Miller's Castle stood sentinel--a modern building remarkable for its keep and battlemented walls. About half a mile nearer Liverpool there was a row of large houses, known as Fort Terrace; here one of my uncles lived. The garden ran down to the sea-shore, and we as boys passed out of the garden to bathe. The Canada dock is built on the site of Fort Terrace.