CHAPTER XV.
MR. TARBOX IS OBSTINATE.
Early on Wednesday morning, eleven days from the date of sailing, the good steamer which bore our hero as passenger, steamed into the harbor of Liverpool. As may readily be supposed, Frank was on deck, gazing with eager expectation at the great city before him, with its solid docks, and the indications of its wide-spreading commerce.
"Well, Frank, we are almost there," said Colonel Sharpley.
"Yes, sir. Isn't it glorious!" exclaimed our hero, with enthusiasm.
"I don't see anything glorious," said a voice at his side.
The speaker was Mr. Tarbox, of Squashboro', State o' Maine.
"Don't you like it, Mr. Tarbox?" asked Frank.
"Liverpool ain't a circumstance to New York," said the Yankee, with patriotic pride. "New York's bigger and finer than this town ever will see."
"I don't care whether it's bigger or not," said Frank. "It's jolly being here. What a splendid time I mean to have."