This journal records the impressions of travel of O. S. Fowler, a young American machinist who travels from Liverpool to Leeds, Kirkstall, Pontefract and Skipton, West and North Yorkshire, and then to Ayr and Edinburgh in Scotland. Fowler is an intelligent as well as opinionated young American who records his impressions in often lively prose. He travels in company with two other friends and seems to be traveling mainly for pleasure although at one point he participates in a trial and demonstration of the "Eames Automatic Brake" on an English rail line. He describes the towns he visits, the ruins of Kirkstall Abbey, Pontefract Castle, providing lengthy descriptions of each site, he also relates incidents which occurred while traveling to these ruins, and comments upon the varying levels of service at the local inns and pubs, etc.

         "Armed with lunch, book and walking stick I set out for Kirkstall at 12 o'clock midday. The distance is only 3 ½ miles and I will foot it. The course lies through the smokiest and filthiest part of Leeds and I can see enough of rags, deformity and dirty children to satisfy me, though I see agreat deal of life that is new to me and many sights of interest. Here is a healthy, homely woman with arms bare to the shoulder, down on her hands and knees scrubbing the pavement. She progresses backwards with her knees in the thickest of the filth. Scattered promiscuously around the doorways are groups of bare-legged children, faces streaked with mud and all blissfully happy. Game urchins appear at intervals ragged pantaloons disappear around corners, shirt flaps float on the breeze. A strong healthy looking man confronts me and begs for a penny. A lean spinster with bare arms rattles by in a huge cart drawn by a diminutive donkey. As I get farther out the scene changes a little buildings are fewer, and a hedge is built by the road. Two men with a performing bear sit resting by the wayside. Farther on a woman overcome by whiskey, snuff or want of sleep lies dreaming by the side of the hedge, and the scenes glide by. Soon we come to Kirkstall town a little hamlet almost belonging to Leeds because of its juxtaposition. I see a building with a sign written in poetry it reads thus: "A Public house without the drink, where men may sit and read and think. Then safe at home return, a stepping stone this house you'll find, then leave at once strong drink behind. And truer pleasures learn." This sign is upon the library building. About a quarter of a mile beyond is the beautiful valley of the Aire..."        

        "...To an American machinist fresh from the land of modern improvements the mechanism and appearance of English rail road waggons [sic] and engines is a curious sight... It is said "only Americans & fools ride first class" Being proud of our nationality and desirous of keeping odd company, the three young men of our party took possession of a 2^nd class compartment. I said "took possession" because we had it to ourselves... a guard appeared at the door and gently put the insinuation "how bad would we like to have it private we answered to the tune of a shilling or two and were locked in..."

        " 'The Unicorn' is the title of an inn where we two weary travelers were to put up for the night... the edifice stands in the suburbs of the rock bound town of Skipton... The inn is worked conjointly as a drinking resort and as a post station under the proprietorship of mine host Gott who is a fussy red nosed, blear eyed, thick tongued Yorkshireman... Lord Gott is fond of talking politics and of taking a glass, He gives weight to his arguments by scriptural quotations...Lady Gott is almost the exact counterpart of her worser half and it is hard to tell which half is the heaviest or the grossest looking... She has two fair daughters and has no qualms about bringing them up as bar maids...This inn has three sitting or drinking rooms viz. 1^st the catchall or second class room for promiscuous and common drunkards 2^nd the select or first class room for the moderate drinkers and for the use of windy debaters and yarn spinning bores... the third room is across the corridor... and is frequented mostly by young sprigs and their girls..."

          Fowler then procceds on "A trip to the land of Burns," he visits Ayr and tours the locality of Burns' poems. He writes of Ayr: "I may say right here that a more besotted place I was never in than this town of Ayr where drunken men lie around like billets of wood..." He then proceeds to Edinburgh of which he is highly complimentary calling it the "Queen of British cities," and the "Modern Athens." However he also provides the following:

         "The fall of eve in the old town is the signal for the outpouring of the people for recreation in the street. Children play at hide and seek - at hop scotch or race around the corner young mothers bring their babes & sit in the doorways & promiscuous humanity sit in rows along the pavement with barefeet & dilapidated shoes protruding half across the walk for people to stumble over..."