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Title: Young Americans Abroad

Editor: John Overton Choules

Release date: February 19, 2007 [eBook #20625]

Language: English

Credits: Produced by Frank van Drogen, Ralph Janke and the Online
Distributed Proofreading Team at,
from images generously made available by gallica
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Cathedral Church of St. Gudule, Brussels Cathedral Church of St. Gudule, Brussels









With Illustrations.






























One evening last winter a few private pupils were sitting in the study of their instructor, when he stated his intention to pass the spring vacation in Europe, and his wish to have two or three of his young friends as his travelling companions. An earnest and joyous desire was expressed by each lad to enjoy the gratification, and in the course of a short period the arrangements were made which afforded him the pleasure to assure three boys that they should accompany him. The ages of the young travelers were twelve, fourteen, and sixteen. Their attention was immediately directed to a course of reading adapted to prepare them for the beneficial use of the proposed tour; and during its progress each boy kept a journal, which was useful as a reference in the correspondence kept up with friends and families at home. A companion in study, left behind, and prevented by duty from joining the party, wished to have constant advices of the movements of his friends; and the letters of the young travellers to a lad of sixteen are, at the advice of many friends, now submitted to the perusal of those at that age. No similar work is known to the authors of these letters; and at the forthcoming gift season it is hoped that the young of our country may be amused and gratified by these reminiscences of other lands.

j.o. choules.

Newport, R.I., Nov. 25, 1851.




Arrival at New York.


Going on board Steamer. — Arctic. — Weather. — Passengers. — Loss of Life and Burial at Sea. — Icebergs. — Sabbath at Sea. — Land. — Excellence of Collins Line. — Adelphi Hotel.


Liverpool; Its Public Buildings, Docks, &c.


Birmingham. — Arrival in London. — Strand. — Temple Bar. — Fleet Street. — London Exchange. — London Coffee House. — Omnibuses.


United States Minister in London. — His kind Attentions. — Crystal Palace. — London of other Days. — Monument. — The Bridges.


Villages. — Camberwel. — Accidents and Murders in England as common as in America. — Greenwich Fair. — Gypsies.


Great Western Railroad. — Swindon. — Bristol. — Scenes of early Life. — Ancient City. — Clifton and Hot Wells. — Redcliffe Church. — Chatterton.


Bristol Cathedral. — Monuments and Inscriptions. — Butler. — Mason. — Southey. — Cloisters. — Mayor's Chapel. — Dundry. — Vine Prospect. — School attended in Boyhood.


Clifton. — Avon. — Hot Wells. — Vincent's Rocks. — Robert Hall. — Sublime Scenery. — Leigh Court Picture Gallery.


Bath. — Royal Crescent. — Queen Square. — Cathedral. — Hot Baths. — Bradford. — Trowbridge. — Devizes. — Cricket.


Tower of London; its History. — Horse Armory. — Antiquities and Curiosities. — Executions. — Regalia, &c.


Thames Tunnel. — New Houses of Parliament. — House of Lords described. — Fresco Paintings. — St. Stephen's Hall. — House of Commons. — Westminster Hall; its Associations, festive and criminal.


British Museum; its fine Galleries, Pictures, Library, Autographs, and MSS. — The Place to study. — Lord Campbell. — Servant who resorted to it.


Woolwich. — Naval Arsenal and Dock Yard. — Ships of War. — Yard. — Twenty Thousand Cannon. — Greenwich. — Blackheath. — Lee Grove. — Golden Cross and its Host. — Mr. Lawrence's Soirée. — Duke of Wellington.


Exhibition. — Season Tickets. — Wet Weather. — One May fine. — City Streets. — Throng around Palace. — Arrival of the Queen. — Opening Scenes. — Procession, &c.


Fine Equipages. — Appearance of the Palace. — Walk through the Exhibition. — American Contributions. — Greek Slave, &c. — Mediæval Court. — Kohinoor Glass Window. — Austrian Furniture. — Amazon of Kiss. — Crusaders. — Galleries. — Transept. — Glass Fountain. — Sculpture. — Veiled Vesta. — Machinery. — Models. — Model of Liverpool. — Plate Glass. — Taunton Cabinet — Steam Power, &c.


Royal Polytechnic Institution. — Lectures. — Egyptian Hall. — Panorama of Overland Route to California. — Exeter Hall Sermons. — Wyld's great Globe. — Zoölogical Gardens. — Christ's Church Hospital; its Boys.


Windsor Castle; its History. — Interior of the Palace. — Pictures. — Waterloo Chamber. — St. George's Chanel. — Royal Tombs. — Edward IV. — Henry VIII. — Charles I., Discovery of his Body in 1813, Account of the Appearance, &c. — Terraces of the Castle. — Eton College. — Datchett. — Great Park. — Long Walk. — Celebrated Trees. — Virginia Water. — Cumberland Lodge. — Frogmore.


Sir John Soane's Museum, House, Antiquities, Pictures. — Hogarth's "Rake's Progress," and the "Election." — Wonderful Economy of Room, &c. — Greenwich; Hospital, Chapel, Paintings, and Statuary. — Queen's Stables; Horses, Harness Room, State Carriage. — Soyer's Symposium; Description of its Rooms. — Dinner there.


The Temple Church and its historical Associations. — Steamboat on Thames. — View of St. Paul's from River. — St. Paul's Cathedral; its Dome. — Statues: Johnson, Howard, Reynolds, Heber, West, Nelson. — Ascent of the Dome and Cross. — View of London.


Westminster Abbey. — Early History. — Associations. — Poet's Corner. — Chapels. — Monuments and Effigies. — Coronation Chairs. — Stone of Scone Statuary. — Sermon in Abbey by Lord John Thynne.


Hyde Park. — St. James's and Green Park. — Regent's Park. — Squares of London. — Northumberland House. — Sion House. — St Margaret's Church. — St. Martin's in-the-Fields.


Mission House. — Lord Mayor's Day. — Royal Exchange. — Bank of England. — London Docks. — Covent Garden Market.


Rev. Dr. Murray. — Dover Castle. — Passage across the Channel. — Calais. — St. Omer. — Douai. — Arras. — Amiens. — Clermont. — Paris. — Hotel Windsor. — A Mistake, and Loss of a Dinner.


Gardens and Promenades. — Gayety. — Flowers. — Wrong Drawing-room. — Notre Dame. — Interior. — Sacristy. — Robes and Relics. — Hotel de Ville. — Louvre shut. — Paris by Moonlight.


Palais Royal. — Garden. — Gay Scene. — Passage d'Orleans. — House opposite to which Henry IV. was assassinated by Ravaillac. — Molière. — Marat and Charlotte Corday. — Palace of the Luxembourg. — Paintings. — Gardens. — Statuary. — Chapel.


Hotel de Cluny; History, Associations, Interior, wonderful Contents. — Julian's Palace of the Baths. — Mr. George Sumner. — Church of St. Sulpice. — Statuary. — Ecclesiastical Fountain. — Bibliothèque St. Geneviève. — Church of St. Etienne du Mont. — History. — Monuments of Racine and Pascal. — Christening an Infant. — Church of St. Germain des Pres, (oldest in Paris); its Restoration going on. — Tombs of Descartes, Mabillon, Montfaucon, &c.


Jardin des Plantes; Situation, History. — Cedar of Lebanon and Palm-trees. — Menagerie. — Cuvier. — Museum of Comparative Anatomy, &c. — Paris owes much to Henry IV., Louis XIV., Napoleon, and Louis Philippe. — Pont Neuf. — St. Bartholomew's Massacre. — Bastile. — Column.


An amusing Fellow-countryman. — Père la Chaise. — Monuments. — Abattoir. — Consul's Office; his numerous Calls.


Cirque. — Amusements. — Champs Elysées. — Hippodrome. — Arabs. — Sabbath kept in Parlor.


Pleasant Company. — Railroad to Brussels. — Jemappes. — Mons. — Brussels; History. — Hotel de Ville. — Cathedral Church of St. Gudule; its Monuments. — First Communion. — Park. — Palace. — Hon. Mr. Bayard.


Lacework. — Money Matters. — An uncivil Banker. — Museum. — Paintings. — Burgundian Library. — Manekin. — Botanical Garden.


Excursion to Waterloo. — Hongomont. — Relics. — Belgian Mound and Lion. — Ivy from Waterloo for Mr. J.P. Hall. — Church. — King Leopold.


Laeken. — Vilvorde. — Mechlin, or Mallnes. — Antwerp; History. — Place Verte. — Statue of Rubens. — Cathedral of Notre Dame. — Interior Pulpit. — Pictures by Rubens. — Tower of the Church. — Quentin Matsys's fine old Houses.


St. James's Church. — Tomb of Rubens. — Paintings by Rubens and Jordaens. — Vandyke. — Mount Calvary. — Monk of La Trappe. — Museum. — Chair of Rubens; his Pictures. — Other great Works of Art. — St. Andrew's Church. — Bourse. — Mr. Vesey, U.S. Consul.


Dock Yards at Antwerp. — Steamboat Passage on the Scheldt. — Dort. — Lost Villages. — Bergen op Zoom. — Van Speyk. — Rotterdam. — Erasmus. — Delft. — Hague. — Hon. George Folsom; his Kindness. — Scheveningen. — Museum. — Japanese Curiosities. — Historical Curiosities. — Gallery of Pictures. — Rembrandt, Paul Potter, Gerard Dow, &c. — King's Palace. — Brimenhoff. — De Witt. — Bosch. — John Adams's House.


Dunes. — Leyden; History. — Harlem. — Church of St. Bavon; Organ. — Coster. — Flower Gardens. — Palace of late King. — Picture Gallery. — Exhibition of Pictures by living Artists. — Amsterdam.


Mr. J.G. Schwartze. — Stadhuis. — Churches. — Jews. — Picture Gallery. — Dutch School. — Columbus before the Council. — Artists' Club.


Utrecht. — Lobith. — Ruhrort. — Meet with Americans on Return from the East. — Cologne; History. — Cathedral. — Three Kings. — Relics. — St. Peter's Church. — Crucifixion of Peter, by Rubens. — Champagne for America.


The Rhine. — Bonn. — Drachenfels. — Godesberg. — Rolandseck. — Oberwinter. — Okenfels. — Castle Reineck. — Neuwied. — A Raft. — Castle of Sain. — Ehrenbreitstein. — Coblentz.


Coblentz. — The Moselle. — Excursion to Stolzenfels. — Curiosities. — Fine View. — Boat up to Mayence. — The Brothers. — Rheinfels. — Lurley Rock. — Seven Sisters. — Pfalz. — The Rheingau. — Falkenberg. — Rheinstein. — Assmanshausen. — Ehrenfels. — Mausetherm. — Bingen. — Geisenheim. — Johannisberg. — Erbach. — Biberich. — Mayence. — John Guttemberg's Statue — Austrian Troops. — An English Nobleman.


Frankfort. — The Römer; its Portraits of the Emperors. — Mr. Bethman's Gallery of Statuary. — Ariadne. — Jews' Quarters. — Darmstadt. — The Bergstrasse. — Heidelberg. — Castle. — Baden. — Kehl. — Strasburg.


Cathedral; Its History; Interior Clock. — St. Thomas's Church. — Kleber's Tomb.


Vosges Mountains. — Vineyards. — Colmar. — Mühlhausen. — Basle. — Black Forest. — United States Consul, Mr. Burchardt. — Cathedral. — Tomb of Erasmus. — Chapter House. — Holbein Gallery. — University. — Library. — MSS. — St. Jacob. — Tea Party.


Moutiers Valley. — Sublime Scenery. — Domach. — Arch. — Roman Antiquities. — Berne. — Mechanical Clock. — Cathedral; Organ, Choir, Bears. — Lausanne.


Mountain Scenery. — Hotel Gibbon. — Episcopal Church. — Signal. — Hotel de Ville, and its kind Inhabitants. — Cathedral; its History. — Steamboat to Vevay. — Castle of Chillon. — St. Martin's Church and the Regicides. — Geneva. — Cathedral. — Museum. — Calvin's MBS. — D'Aubigné. — Gaussen — Malan. — Evangelical Association; its Anniversary. — Count George. — Soirée. — Mr. Delorme. — The Salève. — Savoy. — Rousseau's Island.


Diligence for Dijon. — Fine Scenery. — Dijon; History. — Railroad to Paris. — Sens. — Cathedral. — Fontainebleau.


Methodist Chapel. — Madeline. — Pantheon. — Louvre, open. — Statuary and Paintings. — Versailles. — Statuary. — Series of National Paintings. — Portraits of distinguished Men. — Apartments. — Gardens and Fountains. — Grand and Petit Trianon. — Passy. — St. Cloud.


Glass Depot — American Friends. — Good Intentions. — Hospital des Invalides. — Garden of the Tulleries; its Scenery. — Triumphal Arch. — Chapel of St. Ferdinand. — National Library. — A Tradesman's Memory.


Calais; its Recollections. — Rough Passage of the Channel. — Dover. — Mr. Peabody's Entertainment on the Fourth of July described. — Company. — A patriotic Act.


Entertainment at the Belgian Minister's. — Young Nobility. — A noble Boy. — Craven Chapel. — Slavery. — Exhibition. — Pauper Labor. — Need of a Tariff.


Kind Friends at Bristol, — Weston Super Mare. — Museum of Baptist College. — Highbury Chapel. — Old Houses of Bristol. — Fine Churches.


River Avon. — Wye. — Chepstow. — St. Aryan's. — Wynd Cliff. — Glorious Scenery. — Tintern Abbey; its History. — Ragland Castle; Appearance. — Marquis of Worcester. — Chopstow Castle. — Henry Marten. — Defence of the Parliamentary Party. — Severn River. — Old Passage. — Henbury. — Blaize Castle. — Birthday Lines.


Leave Bristol. — Berkeley. — Cheltenham. — Birmingham; Manufactories. — Rev. John Angell James. — Mr. Vanwart. — Liverpool. — Chester; its Antiquity. — Cathedral. — Rows and Pillars. — Englishmen and Americans have much in Common. — Royal Agricultural Exhibition at Windsor.


Passage Home in the Steamer Atlantic. — Claims of the Collins Line. — Lessons taught by Travel in other Lands. — Our Comforts. — Excellent Character of many of the English Nobility. — Queen Victoria and Prince Albert. — Prospect of Affairs in Europe. — Popery as seen in her proper Territories.

Young Americans Abroad.

Letter 1.

Astor House, New York, April 1, 1851.

Dear Charley:—

I have just arrived at this place, and have found my companions on hand, all ready for the commencement of the long-anticipated voyage. We regret the circumstances which render it your duty to remain, and we all feel very sorry for the disappointment of your wishes and our hopes. You will, however, feel happy in the thought that you are clearly in the path of duty; and you have already learnt that that path is a safe one, and that it always leads to happiness. You have begged us all to write to you as frequently as we can, and we have concluded to send you our joint contributions, drawing largely upon our journals as we move from place to place; and, as we have for so many years had pleasant intercourse in the family circle, we wish to maintain it by correspondence abroad. Our letters will, of course, be very different in their character and interest, because you will bear in mind that out ages are different; and we shall write you from a variety of points, some having a deeper interest than others. I trust that this series of letters will give you a general view of our movements, and contribute to your gratification, if not to your instruction. The weather is delightful, and we are anticipating a fine day for leaving port. It is to all of us a source of pain that we are deprived of your sunny smile; and while we are wandering far away in other lands, we shall often, in fancy, listen to your merry laugh; and I assure you, my dear fellow, that, wherever we rove, it will be amongst our pleasantest thoughts of home when we anticipate the renewal of personal intercourse with one who has secured so warm a place in our affections.

Yours truly,


Letter 2.

Adelphi Hotel, Liverpool, April 14.

Dear Charley:—

It is but twelve days since we parted, and yet we are actually in the old world, and the things which we have so often talked over on the rock-bound shore are really before me. Yes, we are on the soil of Old England, and are soon to see its glories and greatness, and, I fear, its miseries, for a bird's eye view has already satisfied me that there is enough of poverty. You know we left New York in a soaking rain, and the wind blowing fresh from the north-east. We all felt disappointed, as we had hoped to pass down the bay, so celebrated for its beauty, with the bright sunshine to cheer our way; but we had to take comfort from the old proverb, that "a bad beginning makes a good ending." James, George, and I had made up our minds to a regular time of sea-sickness, and so we hastened to put our state room into order and have all our conveniences fixed for the voyage. As soon as we had made matters comfortable, we returned to the deck, and found a most formidable crowd. Every passenger seemed to have, on the occasion, a troop of friends, and all parts of the immense steamer were thronged. The warning voice of "all on shore" soon caused a secession, and at twelve o'clock we had the great agent at work by which we hoped to make headway against wind and wave. The cheering of the crowd upon the wharf was hearty as we dropped into the river, and its return from our passengers was not lacking in spirit. The Arctic, you know, is one of the Collins line of steamers, and I was not a little surprised at her vast size and splendid accommodations, because I had only seen the Cunard boats in Boston, which are very inferior, in size and comfort, to this palace and tower of the ocean.

We all anticipated a hard time of it, from the severe storm which raged all the morning, and I, in common with all the passengers, was delighted to find it any thing but rough water outside the Hook. We kept steaming away till we lost sight of land with the loss of daylight, and yet the sea was in less commotion than it frequently exhibits in Newport Harbor. The next morning, at breakfast, we had quite a fair representation at table, and I think more than two thirds presented themselves for duty. We boys were all on hand, and passed for "able-bodied men." The routine of life on board was as follows: We breakfasted at eight, lunched at twelve, dined at four, took tea at half past six, and from nine till eleven gentlemen had any article for supper they saw fit to order. This is quite enough of time for taking care of the outer man, and any one careful of his health will be sure to intermit one or two of these seasons. All the meals were excellent, and the supplies liberal. The tables present a similar appearance to those of a first-class hotel. In regard to our passengers, I think I can say, with confidence, that a more agreeable set of persons could not well have been gathered together. It really was a nicely-assorted cargo. We numbered one hundred and thirty, and the various parts of our country were all represented. Philadelphia sent the largest delegation; from that city we had more than twenty. I liked the looks of the passengers at the first glance, and every day's intercourse heightened my estimate of their worth and pleasantness. Amongst the company we had Professor Haddock, of Dartmouth College, going out to Portugal as chargé d'affaires. He was accompanied by his lady and son. Then, too, we had the world-renowned Peter Parley, with his accomplished family circle. Mr. Goodrich, after a long life of labor for the youth of his country, for whose reading and instruction he has done so much, has been honored by the government of the United States with an appointment as consul at Paris. Mr. Goodrich resided there for two or three years, and was in Paris during the revolution of 1848. He seems fond of the company of young people, and we spent a great deal of time on board with him, listening to his stories, some made up for the occasion, and narrations of the events in February at Paris, and some capital anecdotes about the last war with England, during which he served his country in the army. The Hon. George Wright, of California, and her first representative in Congress, was also one of our party; and his glowing descriptions of the auriferous regions kept groups of audience for many an hour. The Rev. Arthur Cleveland Cox, of Hartford, favorably known as the author of some pleasant rhymes and sonnets, Mr. Cunningham, a southern editor, and several retired sea captains, all contributed to enhance the agreeableness of the voyage. I am sorry to tell you that, three days out, we had a sad occurrence in our little world. Just as we were sitting down to lunch at eight bells, the machinery stopped for a moment, and we were informed that William Irwin, one of the assistant engineers, was crushed to death. He accidentally slipped from his position, and was killed instantaneously. In less than half an hour he was sewed up in canvas, and all hands called to attend his funeral services! The poor fellow was laid upon a plank covered with the American flag, and placed at the wheel-house. The service was performed by Mr. Cox, in full canonicals; and I can assure you that the white-robed priest, as he issued from the cabin and ascended the wheel-house, really looked impressively. At the close, he was committed to the deep. What food for thought was here! A man in health and at life's daily task,—alive,—dead,—and buried,—all these conditions of his state crowded into thirty minutes! The poor man had a mother who was dependent upon him. Dr. Choules drew up a subscription paper for her benefit, and nearly five hundred dollars were at once raised for her relief. This unhappy event, of course, gave a sad damper to the joyous feelings which existed on board, and which were excited by our fine weather and rapid headway. On Sunday we had two sermons in the cabin to large congregations, all the passengers attending, with the officers and many of the crew. The morning service was by Dr. Choules, and the evening one by Mr. Cox.

Four Positions of an Iceberg, seen 6th of April. Estimated Height, 300 feet. Lat. 43.04; long. 53.11; at Noon. Four Positions of an Iceberg, seen 6th of April. Estimated Height, 300 feet. Lat. 43.04; long. 53.11; at Noon.

Icebergs seen from the Steamship "Arctic," on the Voyage from New York to Liverpool, April 6, 1851. Icebergs seen from the Steamship "Arctic," on the Voyage from New York to Liverpool, April 6, 1851.

In the afternoon, April 6, we had the gratification to see a magnificent iceberg. We were in lat. 43° 4', lon. 53° 11' at twelve o'clock, and at three the ice appeared at about ten miles' distance. The estimated height was about three hundred feet. One if the passengers took a sketch. I also made one, and have laid it aside for your inspection.

The berg had much the appearance of the gable end of a large house, and at some little distance there was another, of tower-like aspect, and much resembling a light-house. The effect of the sun upon it, as we saw it in various positions, was exceedingly fine. On Monday, the 7th, we saw a much larger one, with several small ones as neighbors. This was probably one mile in length, and about two hundred feet high.

We saw several whales frolicking at the distance of a mile, and distinctly saw them spout at short intervals.

After having had all reason to hope for a ten-day passage, we were annoyed for four or five days with head winds, materially retarding our headway. The evenings of the voyage were generally spent on deck, where we had charming concerts. Seldom have I heard better singing than we were favored with by eight or ten ladies and gentlemen. One universal favorite was the beautiful piece, "Far, far at sea." On Sunday, the 13th, just after morning service, conducted by Mr. Cox, we made Mizzen Head, and obtained a magnificent view of the north coast of Ireland, which was far more beautiful than we had expected. The coast is very bold, and the cliffs precipitous, in many places strongly reminding us of the high lands of the Hudson. A more exquisite treat than that which we enjoyed all the afternoon in looking on the Irish coast I can hardly imagine. At night we had a closing service, and Dr. Choules preached. Every one seemed to feel that we had cause for thankfulness that we had been brought in safety across the ocean, and under so many circumstances of enjoyment We have made acquaintances that are truly valuable, and some of them I hope to cultivate in future life. One of the great advantages of travel, Charles, seems to be, that it enables us to compare men of other places than those we live in with our former acquaintances. It brings us into intercourse with those who have had a different training and education than our own; and I think a man or boy must be pretty thoroughly conceited who does not often find out his own inferiority to many with whom he chances to meet. On board our ship are several young men of fine attainments, who, engaged in mechanical business, are going out to obtain improvement and instruction by a careful study of the great exhibition. A number of gentlemen with us are young merchants, who represent houses in our great cities, and go to England and France twice and three times every year. Some of these are thoroughly accomplished men, and, wherever they go, will reflect credit upon their country. In no country, perhaps, do young men assume important trusts in commercial life at so early a period as in America. I have heard one or two Englishmen on board express their surprise at finding large business operations intrusted to young men of twenty and twenty-one; and yet there are some such with us who are making their second and third trips to Manchester, Leeds, Paisley, and Paris, for the selection of goods.

I ought to tell you that, on the last day of the voyage, we had a great meeting in the cabin, Mr. Goodrich in the chair, for the purpose of expressing the satisfaction of the passengers with the Arctic, her captain, officers, and engineer. Several good speeches were made, and some resolutions passed. This has become so ordinary an affair at the termination of a passage, as to have lost much of its original value; but as this ship had an unusual number of passengers, many of them well known to their fellow-countrymen, and as great opposition had been displayed, on both sides of the ocean, to this line of steamers, it was thought suitable to express our views in relation to this particular ship and the great undertaking with which she is identified. Every man on board was satisfied that, in safety, these ships are equal to the Cunard line; while in comfort, accommodation, size, and splendor they far surpass their rivals. It really seems strange to us that Americans should think of making the ocean trip in an English steamship, when their own country has a noble experiment in trial, the success of which alone depends upon the patriotism and spirit of her citizens. The English on board are forced to confess that our ship and the line are all that can be asked, and I think that pretty strong prejudices have been conquered by this voyage. Every one left the ship with sentiments of respect to Captain Luce, who, I assure you, we found to be a very kind friend, and we shall all of us be glad to meet him again on ship or shore.

On Monday, the 14th, at three o'clock, we took our pilot, and at eight o'clock we anchored off Liverpool, and a dark-looking steamtug came off to us for the mails, foreign ministers, and bearers of despatches. As we came under the wing of one of the last-named class of favored individuals, we took our luggage, and proceeded straight to the Adelphi Hotel. I ought to say that James was the first to quit the ship and plant his foot on Old England. It was quite strange to see it so light at half past eight o'clock, although it was a rainy evening. I shall not soon forget the cheerful appearance of the Adelphi, which, in all its provisions for comfort, both in the coffee-room and our chambers, struck me more favorably than any hotel I had ever seen. Although our state-room on board the Arctic was one of the extra size and every thing that was nice, yet I long for the conveniences of a bed-chamber and a warm bath. I am quite disposed to join with the poor Irish woman who had made a steerage passage from New York to Liverpool in a packet ship; and when landed at St. George's pier, and seated on her trunk, a lady who had also landed, when getting into her carriage, said, "Well, my good woman, I suppose you are very glad to get out of the ship?" Her reply was, "And indeed, my lady, every bone in my body cries out feathers!"

Yours truly,


Letter 3.


Dear Charley:—

Well, we have fairly commenced our travel, and yet I can scarcely realize the fact that I am here in Old England, and that, for some months at least, I shall be away from home and the occupations of the school-room. The next day after landing we went to the custom-house to see our fellow-passengers pass their effects, and really felt glad to think of our good fortune in landing every thing at night and direct from the ship. It was an exciting scene, and I was not a little amused to observe the anxiety of the gentlemen to save their cigars from the duty imposed, and which amounts to nine shillings sterling per pound. All sorts of contrivances were in vogue, and the experiences of men were various, the man with one hundred, perhaps, being brought up, while his neighbor with five hundred passed off successfully, and, as he cleared the building, seemed disposed to place his finger on the prominent feature of his face.

I quite like the appearance of Liverpool. After walking through the principal streets and making a general survey of the shops,—no one speaks of store,—I think I can testify to the extraordinary cleanness of the city, and the massiveness and grandeur of the public buildings.

Our attention was first directed to the cemetery which had been described, you remember, to us one evening in the study. It is on the confines of the city, and is made but of an old quarry. I liked it better than any cemetery I ever saw; it is unlike all I had seen, and, though comparatively small, is very picturesque, I may almost say romantic. The walls are lofty, and are devoted to spacious tombs, and the groundwork abounds in garden shrubbery and labyrinth. Some of the monuments are striking. The access to this resting-place is by a steep cut through the rock, and you pass under an archway of the most imposing character. At the entrance of the cemetery is a neat chapel, and the officiating minister has a dwelling-house near the gate.

I wish you could see a building now in progress, and which has taken twelve or fourteen years to erect, and from its appearance will not, I suppose, be finished in four or five more. It is called St. George's Hall. The intent is to furnish suitable accommodations for the various law courts, and also to contain the finest ball-room in Europe. It is in a commanding position. I know little of architecture, but this building strikes me as one of exquisite beauty. We obtained an order from the mayor to be shown over it and examine the works, and we enjoyed it very much. The great hall will be without a rival in England. The town hall is a noble edifice, and the people are quite proud of it. The interior is finely laid out, and has some spacious rooms for the civic revelries of the fathers of the town. The good woman who showed us round feels complacently enough as she explains the uses of the rooms. The ball-room is ninety feet by forty-six, and forty feet high. The dining and drawing-rooms are spacious apartments. On the grand staircase is a noble statue of George Canning, by Chantrey, whose beautiful one of Washington we have so often admired in the Boston State House. In the building are some good paintings of the late kings; one or two by Sir Thomas Lawrence. The Exchange is directly behind the hall, and contains in the centre a glorious bronze monument to Lord Nelson, the joint production of Wyat and Westmacott. Death is laying his hand upon the hero's heart, and Victory is placing a fourth crown on his sword. Ever since I read Southey's Life of Nelson, I have felt an interest in every thing relating to this great; yet imperfect man. You know that illustrated work on Nelson that we have so often looked at it contains a large engraving of this monument. As Yankee boys, we found our way to the top of the Exchange, to look at the cotton sales-room. This same room has more to do with our good friends at the south than any other in the world. The atmosphere would have been chilly to a Georgian planter, as cotton was down—down.

The Necropolis is a very spacious burying-place, open to all classes, and where persons can be interred with the use of any form desired. The gateway is of stone, and not unlike the granite one at Mount Auburn; and on one side is a chapel, and on the other a house for the register. Not far from this we came to the Zoölogical Gardens, kept in excellent order, and where is a good collection of animals, birds, &c. The Collegiate Institution is an imposing structure in the Tudor style.

St. George's Church, which stands at the head of Lord Street, occupies the position of the old castle, destroyed, I believe, more than one hundred and fifty years ago, and is a very graceful termination to one of the best business avenues of the city. Several of the churches and chapels are in good style. But one of the best buildings is—as it should be, in a city like this—the Sailor's Home, not far from the Custom House. This is a highly-ornamented house, and would adorn any city of the world.

The Custom House is thought to be one of the finest buildings in the kingdom. It occupied ten years in its erection. It is composed of three façades, from a rusticated pavement, each having a splendid portico of eight Ionic columns. The whole is surmounted by a dome, one hundred and thirty feet high, and the effect of the building is excellent. The glory of Liverpool is her docks, and a stranger is sure to be pointed to the great landing stage, an immense floating pier, which was moored into its present position on the 1st of June, 1847. This stage is five hundred and seven feet long, and over eighty feet wide. This mass of timber floats upon pontoons, which have to support more than two thousand tons. At each end is a light barge.

In the Clarence dock are to be found the Irish and coasting steamers, and to the north are the Trafalgar, Victoria, and Waterloo docks; the Prince's dock, and the Great Prince's dock basin. On the outside of all these is a fine parade, of about one half a mile, and which affords one of the most beautiful marine promenades in the world, and gives an interesting view of the Cheshire shore, opposite the city. The Prince's dock is five hundred yards long, and one hundred broad. Vessels, on arriving, discharge on the east side, and take in cargo on the west. Besides all these there is the Brunswick dock, Queen's dock, Duke's dock, Salthouse dock, &c.

The Royal Liverpool Institution is a great benefit to the inhabitants. It has a good library, fine collections of paintings, and a good museum of natural history. Many of these paintings belong to the early masters, and date even before the fifteenth century. We were interested to find here a complete set of casts of the Elgin marbles. The originals were the decorations of the Parthenon at Athens, and are now in the British Museum. As we shall spend some time in that collection, I say no more at present about these wonderful monuments of genius. The Athenæum and the Lyceum are both fine buildings, and each has a good library, lecture, and news rooms.

We were disappointed at finding the Rev. Dr. Raffles, the most eloquent preacher of the city, out of town. He was the successor of Spencer, who was drowned bathing in the Mersey, and his Life by Raffles is one of deep interest. The great historical name of Liverpool is William Roscoe, the author of the Lives of Leo X. and the Medici. I must not omit to tell you that, during our stay, the town was all alive with a regiment of lancers, just arrived from Ireland, on their way to London. They are indeed fine-looking fellows, and are mounted on capital horses. I have watched their evolutions in front of the Adelphi with much pleasure, and have been amused to notice a collection of the most wretched-looking boys I ever saw, brought together by the troops. There seems to me more pauperism this week, in Liverpool, than I ever saw in New York in my life.

Truly yours,


Letter 4.


Dear Charley:—

Does it not seem strange that I am here in London? I can hardly tell what to write about first. I stand at the door of our hotel and look at the crowds in the streets, and then at old King Charles, at Charing Cross, directly across the road, and when I think that this is the old city where Wat Tyler figured, and Whittington was lord mayor, and Lady Jane Grey was beheaded, and where the Tower is still to be seen, I am half beside myself, and want to do nothing but roam about for a good month to come. I have read so much concerning London, that I am pretty sure I know more about it than many of the boys who have heard Bow Church bells all their lives. We left Liverpool for Birmingham, where we passed an afternoon and evening in the family of a manufacturer very pleasantly, and at ten o'clock took the express mail train for London. We are staying at a hotel called the Golden Cross, Charing Cross. We have our breakfast in the coffee-room, and then dine as it suits our convenience as to place and hour. We spent one day in riding about the city, and I think we got quite an idea of the great streets.

The Strand is a very fine business street, perhaps a mile long. It widens in one part, and has two churches in the middle of it, and a narrow street seems built inside it at one place, as nasty, dirty a lane as I ever saw, called Hollowell Street. I was very much delighted at the end of the Strand to see old Temple Bar, which is the entrance to the city proper, and which divides Fleet Street from the Strand. It is a noble archway, with small side arches for foot passengers. The head of many a poor fellow, and the quarters of men called traitors, have been fastened over this gateway in former times.

Dr. Johnson was once walking in Westminster Abbey with Goldsmith, and as they were looking at the Poet's Corner, Johnson said to his friend,—

"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis."

When they had walked on to Temple Bar, Goldsmith stopped Johnson, and pointed to the heads of Fletcher and Townley, hanging above, and slyly remarked,—

"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis."

I suppose you remember that the great dictionary man was a Jacobite in his heart.

The present bar was put up in 1670, and was designed by Sir Christopher Wren. The statues on the sides, which are towards the city, are those of Queen Elizabeth and James I.; and towards the Strand, those of Charles I. and Charles II. They stand in niches.

Whenever the monarch passes into the city, there is much ceremony takes place at the bar. The gates are closed, a herald sounds a trumpet and knocks for entrance, the gates are opened, and the lord mayor of London presents the sword of the city to the sovereign, who returns it to his lordship. The upper part of the bar is used by Messrs. Childs, the bankers, as a store room for their past account books.

Fleet Street is thronged with passengers and carriages of all sorts. Just a few doors from the bar, on the right-hand side, is a gayly-painted front, which claims to have been a palace of Henry VIII. and the residence of Cardinal Wolsey. It is now used as a hair-cutting shop, up stairs. We went up and examined the panelled ceiling, said to be just as it used to be. It is certainly very fine, and looks as if it were as old as the times of bluff Harry. Of course we had our hair cut in the old palace.

We followed through Fleet Street, noticing the offices of Punch and the London Illustrated News, till we came to Ludgate Hill,—rather an ascent,—which is the direct way to the Cathedral Church of St. Paul's. It stands directly in front of Ludgate Hill, and the churchyard occupies a large space, and the streets open on each side, making a sort of square called Paul's Churchyard, and then at the rear you go into Cheapside. We looked with interest, I can tell you, at Bow Church, and, as the old bells were ringing, I tried to listen if I could hear what Whittington heard once from their tingling—"Turn again, Whittington, lord mayor, of London." At the end of this street, on the right hand, is the lord mayor's house, called the Mansion House, and directly in front of the street, closing it up, and making it break off, is the Royal Exchange; whilst at the left is the Bank of England. All these are very noble-looking buildings, and you will hear about them from us as we examine them in our future walks. We went to the counting-house of Messrs. Baring & Co., the great merchants and bankers for so many Americans, and there we found our letters and got some money. Mr. Sturgis, one of the partners, told us to take the check to the bank, No. 68 Lombard Street, and informed us that was the very house where the great merchant of Queen Elizabeth's time—Sir Thomas Gresham—used to live. He built the first London Exchange, and his sign, a large grasshopper, is still preserved at the bank. On Good Friday we had bunns for breakfast, with a cross upon them, and they were sold through the streets by children, crying "One a penny, two a penny, hot cross bunns." We took a carriage and rode to Camden town to visit a friend; thence we took the cars, to Hackney, and called on the Rev. Dr. Cox, who some fifteen years ago made the tour of the United States, and wrote a volume on our country. We then returned to London, and took our dinner at the London Coffee House, Ludgate Hill. This has been a very celebrated house for one hundred years, and figures largely in the books of travellers fifty years ago. It has a high reputation still, and every thing was excellent, and the waiting good. You cannot walk about London without observing how few boys of our age are to be seen in the streets, and when we asked the reason, we were told that nearly all the lads of respectable families were sent to boarding schools, and the vacations only occur at June and December; then the boys return home, and the city swarms with them at all the places of amusement. We seemed to be objects of attention, because we wore caps; (here boys all wear hats;) and then our gilt buttons on blue jackets led many to suppose that we were midshipmen. The omnibuses are very numerous, and each one has a conductor, who stands on a high step on the left side of the door, watching the sidewalks and crying out the destination of the "bus," as the vehicle is called. There is a continual cry, "Bank, bank," "Cross, cross," "City, city," &c. I must not forget to tell you one thing; and that is, London is the place to make a sight-seeing boy very tired, and I am quite sure that, in ten minutes, I shall be unable to do what I can now very heartily, viz., assure you that

I am yours, affectionately,


Letter 5.


Dear Charley:—

After passing a day or two in a general view of the city, and making some preliminary arrangements for our future movements, we all called upon Mr. Lawrence, the minister of our country at the court of St. James, which expression refers to the appellation of the old palace of George III. Mr. Lawrence resides in Piccadilly, opposite the St. James's Park, in a very splendid mansion, which he rents from an English nobleman, all furnished. We were very kindly received by his excellency, who expressed much pleasure at seeing his young countrymen coming abroad, and said he was fond of boys, and liked them as travelling companions. I handed him a letter of introduction from his brother. Mr. Lawrence offered us all the facilities in his power to see the sights, and these are great, for he is furnished by the government of England with orders which will admit parties to almost every thing in and about London. Amongst other tickets he gave us the following admissions: to the Queen's stables, Windsor Castle, Dulwich Gallery, Woolwich Arsenal, Navy Yard, Sion House, Northumberland House, Houses of Parliament, and, what we highly valued, an admission to enter the exhibition, which is yet unfinished, and not open to inspection.

After leaving the minister, we paid our respects to Mr. Davis, the secretary of legation, and were kindly received. We walked on from Piccadilly to the Crystal Palace, passing Apsley House, the residence of the Duke of Wellington, and soon reached Hyde Park, with its famous gateway and the far-famed statue of "the duke." As we shall go into some detailed account of the palace after the exhibition opens, I would only say, that we were exceedingly surprised and delighted with the building itself, and were so taken up with that as hardly to look at its contents, which were now rapidly getting into order. The effect of the noble elms which are covered up in the palace is very striking and pleasing, and very naturally suggests the idea that the house would, by and by, make a glorious green-house for the city, where winter's discontents might be almost made into a "glorious summer." A poor fellow was killed here, just before we entered, by falling through the skylight roof. He was at work on a plank laid across the iron frame, and that tipping up, threw him on to the glass, and his death was instantaneous. We are more and more pleased at having so central a domicile as the Golden Cross, for time is every thing when you have to see sights; and here we can get to any point we desire by a bus, and obtain a fly at any moment. Very much that we desire to see, too, is east of Temple Bar, and our Mentor seems determined that we shall become acquainted with the London of other times, and we rarely walk out without learning who lived in "that house," and what event had happened in "that street." I fancy that we are going to gather up much curious matter for future use and recollection by our street wanderings. A book called "The Streets of London" is our frequent study, and is daily consulted with advantage. To-day we dined at the famous Williams's, in Old Bailey, where boiled beef is said to be better than at any other place in London. It was certainly as fine as could be desired. The customers were numerous, and looked like business men. The proprietor was a busy man, and his eyes seemed every where. A vision of cockroaches, however, dispelled the appetite for a dessert, and we perambulated our way to the Monument. This has a noble appearance, and stands on Fish Street Hill. The pillar is two hundred and two feet high, and is surmounted by a gilt flame. The object of the Monument is to commemorate the great fire of London in Charles II.'s reign.

It had an inscription which ascribed the origin of the fire to the Catholics; but recently this has been obliterated. It was to this inscription and allegation that Pope referred in his lines,—

"Where London's column, pointing to the skies, Like a tall bully, lifts its head, and lies."

There are few things in London that have impressed us more than the fine, massive bridges which span the Thames, and are so crowded with foot passengers and carriages. Every boy who has read much has had his head full of notions about London Bridge; that is, old London Bridge, which was taken down about thirty years ago. The old bridge was originally a wooden structure, and on the sides of the bridge were houses, and the pathway in front had all sorts of goods exposed for sale, and the Southwark gate of the bridge was disfigured with the heads and quarters of the poor creatures who were executed for treason.

The new bridge was commenced in 1825, and it was opened in 1831 by William IV. and Queen Adelaide. The bridge has five arches; the central one is one hundred and fifty feet in the clear, the two next one hundred and forty feet, and the extreme arches one hundred and thirty feet. The length, including the abutments, is about one thousand feet, its width eighty-three feet, and the road for carriages fifty-five feet.

The great roads leading to London Bridge have been most costly affairs; and I was told that a parish and its church had been destroyed to make these approaches. The men of different generations, who, for almost one thousand years, looked at the old bridge, would stare at the present one and its present vicinity, if they were to come back again. Southwark Bridge was commenced in 1814, and finished in 1819. It has three arches, and the central arch is two hundred and forty feet, which is the greatest span in the world. In this bridge are five thousand three hundred and eight tons of iron. Blackfriars Bridge was commenced in 1760, and opened in 1770. It has nine elliptical arches, of which the middle one is one hundred feet in width. Recently this bridge has been thoroughly repaired. I think this is my favorite stand-point for the river and city. Nowhere else have I obtained such a view up and down the river. Here I have a full prospect of the Tower, St. Paul's Cathedral, Somerset House, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and perhaps twenty-five other churches! But the great bridge of all is the Waterloo one, commenced in 1811, and opened in 1817, on the 18th of June, the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. Of course, the Duke of Wellington figured upon the occasion. At this point the river is one thousand three hundred and twenty-six feet wide; and the bridge is of nine elliptical arches, each of one hundred and twenty feet space, and thirty-five feet high above high water, and its entire length two thousand four hundred and fifty-six feet. It is painful to hear the sad stories which have a connection with this magnificent structure. It seems the chosen resort of London suicides, and very frequent are the events which almost justify its appellation—"the Bridge of Sighs." I love to walk this and the other bridges, and look at the mighty city, and think of its wonderful history and its existing place in the affairs of the world; and I cannot help thinking of the reflection of the wise man—"One generation passeth away, but the earth remaineth." I have never felt my own insignificance so much, Charley, as when walking in one of these crowded streets. I know no one; I am unknown; I am in solitude, and feel it more, perhaps, than I should if alone upon a mountain top or in a wilderness. I am sure I have told you enough for once, and perhaps you are as tired of my letter as I was in going over the places I have written to you about; so I will relieve your patience.

I am yours always,


Letter 6.


Dear Charley:—

All round London there are the most exquisite villages or towns, full of charming retreats, boxes of wealthy tradesmen, and some very fine rows of brick and stone residences, with gardens in front. I am amused to see almost every house having a name. Thus you find one house called, on the gateway, Hamilton Villa, the next Hawthorne Lodge, whilst opposite their fellows rejoice in the names, Pelham House, Cranborne Cottage; and so it is with hundreds of neat little domiciles. I think the road up to St. John's Wood is one of the prettiest I have seen; and there are in it perhaps two hundred habitations, each having its sobriquet. Since writing to you last we have been to Camberwell, a very pretty place, two or three miles from the city. We called on a gentleman who had a party that night, and we were politely invited, and spent an agreeable evening. The supper was elegant, and the ladies were quite inquisitive as to our social manners. One gentleman present had a son in Wisconsin, and he seemed to fancy that, as that state was in the United States, it was pretty much like the rest of the country. We told him that Wisconsin was about as much like New York and Massachusetts as Brighton, in 1851, was like what it was one hundred years ago. When we talk with well-educated persons here, we are much amused at their entire unacquaintedness with American geography and history. I think an importation of Morse's School Geography would be of great service. We very often lose our patience when we hear about the great danger of life in America. I find very intelligent and respectable persons who fancy that life is held by a slight tenure in the Union, and that law and order are almost unknown. Now, the first week we were in London the papers teemed with accounts of murders in various parts of England. One newspaper detailed no less than eleven oases of murder, or executions on account of murders. Poison, however, seems just at present the prevailing method by which men and women are removed.

As to accidents in travel, we, no doubt, have our full share; but since our arrival in England the railroad trains have had some pretty rough shakings, and the results in loss of life and limb would have passed for quite ugly enough, even had they happened in the west. I very much wish you could have been with us on Easter Monday, when we passed the day at Greenwich, and were at the renowned Greenwich Fair, which lasts for three days. The scene of revelry takes place in the Park, a royal one, and really a noble one. Here all the riff-raff and bobtail of London repair in their finery, and have a time. You can form no notion of the affair; it cannot be described. The upper part of the Park, towards the Royal Observatory, is very steep, and down this boys and girls, men and women, have a roll. Such scenes as are here to be witnessed we cannot match. Nothing can exceed the doings that occur. All the public houses swarm, and in no spot have I ever seen so many places for drinking as are here. The working-men of London, and apprentices, with wires and sweethearts, all turn out Easter Monday. It seems as though all the horses, carts, chaises, and hackney coaches of the city were on the road. We saw several enormous coal wagons crammed tightly with boys and girls. On the fine heath, or down, that skirts the Park, are hundreds of donkeys, and you are invited to take a halfpenny, penny, or twopenny ride. All sorts of gambling are to be seen. One favorite game with the youngsters was to have a tobacco box, full of coppers, stuck on a stick standing in a hole, and then, for a halfpenny paid to the proprietor, you are entitled to take a shy at the mark. If it falls into the hole, you lose; if you knock it off, and away from the hole, you take it. It requires, I fancy, much adroitness and experience to make any thing at "shying" at the "bacca box." At night, Greenwich is all alive—life is out of London and in the fair. But let the traveller who has to return to town beware. The road is full of horses and vehicles, driven by drunken men and boys; and, for four or five miles, you can imagine that a city is besieged, and that the inhabitants are flying from the sword. O, such weary-looking children as we saw that day! One favorite amusement was to draw a little wooden instrument quick over the coat of another person, when it produces a noise precisely like that of a torn garment. Hundreds of these machines were in the hands of the urchins who crowded the Park. Here, for the first time, I saw the veritable gypsy of whose race we have read so much in Bòrrow's Zincali. The women are very fine looking, and some of the girls were exquisitely beautiful. They are a swarthy-looking set, and seem to be a cross of Indian and Jew. Those we saw were proper wiry-looking fellows. One or two of the men were nattily dressed, with fancy silk handkerchiefs. They live in tents, and migrate through the midland counties, but I believe are not as numerous as they were thirty years ago. You will not soon forget how we were pleased with the memoirs of Bamfield Moore Carew, who was once known as their king in Great Britain. I wonder that book has never been reprinted in America. I am pretty sure that Greenwich Park would please your taste. I think the view from the Royal Observatory, and from whence longitude is reckoned, is one of the grandest I have ever seen. You get a fine view of the noble palace once the royal residence, but now the Sailor's Home. You see the Thames, with its immense burden, and, through the mist, the great city. As to the Hospital, we shall leave that for another excursion: we came to Greenwich at present merely to witness Easter Fair, and it will not soon be forgotten by any of us.

Yours, &c.,


Letter 7.


Dear Charley:—

As we had a few days to spare before the exhibition opened, we proposed to run down to Bristol and Bath, and pass a week. We took the Great Western train first-class ears, and made the journey of one hundred and twenty miles in two hours and forty minutes. This is the perfection of travelling. The cars are very commodious, holding eight persons, each having a nicely-cushioned chair. The rail is the broad gage; and we hardly felt the motion, so excellent is the road. The country through which we passed was very beautiful, and perhaps it never appears to more advantage than in the gay garniture of spring. We left Windsor Castle to our left, and Eton College, and passed by Beading, a fine, flourishing town; and at Swindon we made a stay of ten minutes. The station at this place is very spacious and elegant. Here the passengers have the only opportunity to obtain refreshments on the route; and never did people seem more intent upon laying in provender. The table was finely laid out, and a great variety tempted the appetite. The railroad company, when they leased this station, stipulated that every train should pass ten minutes at it. But the express train claimed exemption, and refused to afford the time. The landlord prosecuted the company, obtained satisfactory damages, and now even the express train affords its passengers time to recruit at Swindon. This place has grown up under the auspices of the railroad, and one can hardly fancy a prettier place than environs the station. The cottages are of stone, of the Elizabethan and Tudor style, and are very numerous; while the church, which is just finished, is one of the neatest affairs I have yet seen in England. The town of Swindon is about two miles from the station, and I expect to visit it in the course of my journey. You know, my dear Charley, how long and fondly I have anticipated my visit to my native city, and can imagine my feelings on this route homewards. We passed through Bath, a most beautiful city, (and I think as beautiful as any I ever saw,) and then in half an hour we entered Bristol. The splendid station-house of the railroad was new to me, but the old streets and houses were all familiar as if they had been left but yesterday. The next morning I called on my friends, and you may think how sad my disappointment was to find that a dangerous accident had just placed my nearest relative in the chamber of painful confinement for probably three months. It was a pleasant thing to come home to scenes of childhood and youth, and I was prepared to enjoy every hour; but I soon realized that here all our roses have thorns. Of course, in Bristol I need no guide; and the boys are, I assure you, pretty thoroughly fagged out, when night comes, with our perambulations through the old city and neighborhood.

Bristol has claims upon the attention of the stranger, not only as one of the oldest cities in England, but on account of its romantic scenery. The banks of the Avon are not to be surpassed by the scenes afforded by any other river of its size in the world. This city was founded by Brennus, the chieftain of the Gauls and the conqueror of Rome, 388 B.C., and tradition states that his brother Belinus aided him in the work. The statues of these worthies are quaintly carved on the gateway of John's Church, in Broad Street, and are of very great antiquity. In the earliest writings that bear upon the west of England—the Welsh Chronicles—this city is called Caër oder, which means the city of the Chasm. This the Saxons called Clifton. The Avon runs through a tremendous fissure in the rocks called Vincent's Rocks; and hence the name given to the suburbs of the city, on its banks—Clifton. Of this place we shall have much to tell you. Another Welsh name for the city was Caër Brito, or the painted city, or the famous city. Bristol, like Rome, stands on seven hills, and on every side is surrounded by the most attractive scenery. It has made quite a figure in history, and its castle was an object of great importance during the civil wars between Charles I. and his Parliament. This city stands in two counties, and has the privileges of one itself. It is partly in Gloucestershire and partly in Somersetshire. The population of Bristol, with Clifton and the Hot Wells, is about two hundred thousand. My first excursion with the boys was to Redcliffe Church, which is thought to be the finest parish church in England. This is the church where poor Chatterton said that he found the Rowley MSS. No one of taste visits the city without repairing to this venerable pile. Its antiquity, beauty of architecture, and the many interesting events connected with its history, claim particular notice. This church was probably commenced about the beginning of the thirteenth century; but it was completed by William Cannynge, Sen., mayor of the city, in 1396. In 1456, the lofty spire was struck by lightning, and one hundred feet fell upon the south aisle. The approach from Redcliffe Street is very impressive. The highly-ornamented tower, the west front of the church, its unrivalled north porch, and the transept, with flying buttresses, pinnacles, and parapet, cannot fail to gratify every beholder. The building stands on a hill, and is approached by a magnificent flight of steps, guarded by a heavy balustrade. In length, the church and the Lady Chapel is two hundred and thirty-nine feet; from north to south of the cross aisles is one hundred and seventeen feet; the height of the middle aisle is fifty-four, and of the north and south aisles, twenty-five feet.

The impression produced on the spectator by the interior is that of awe and reverence, as he gazes on the clustered pillars, the mullioned windows, the panelled walls, the groined ceilings, decorated with ribs, tracery, and bosses, all evincing the skill of its architects and the wonderful capabilities of the Gothic style.

The east window and screen have long been hidden by some large paintings of Hogarth. The subjects of these are the Ascension, the Three Marys at the Sepulchre, and the High Priest sealing Christ's Tomb.

On a column in the south transept is a flat slab, with a long inscription, in memory of Sir William Penn, father of William Penn, the great founder of Pennsylvania. The column is adorned with his banner and armor.

The boys, who had so often read of Guy, Earl of Warwick, and of his valorous exploits, were greatly pleased to find in this church, placed against a pillar, a rib of the Dun cow which he is said to have slain.

You may be very sure that we inquired for the room in which Chatterton said he found old Monk Rowley's poems. It is an hexagonal room over the north porch, in which the archives were kept Chatterton's uncle was sexton of the church; and the boy had access to the building, and carried off parchments at his pleasure. The idea of making a literary forgery filled his mind; and if you read Southey and Cottle's edition of the works of Chatterton, or, what is far better, an admirable Life of the young poet by John Dix, a gifted son of Bristol, now living in America, you will have an interesting view of the character of this remarkable youth.

Thomas Chatterton. Thomas Chatterton.

At the east end of the church is the Chapel of the Virgin Mary. A noble room it is. A large statue of Queen Elizabeth, in wood, stands against one of the windows, just where it did thirty-seven years ago, when I was a youngster, and went to her majesty's grammar school, which is taught in the chapel. I showed the boys the names of my old school-fellows cut upon the desks. How various their fates! One fine fellow, whose name yet lives on the wood, found his grave in the West Indies, on a voyage he had anticipated with great joy.

I am glad to say that a spirited effort is now making to restore this gorgeous edifice. It was greatly needed, and was commenced in 1846. I do wish you could see this church and gaze upon its interior. I have obtained some fine drawings of parts of the edifice, and they will enable you to form some faint idea of the splendor of the whole. We have to dine with a friend, and I must close.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 8.


Dear Charley:—

You have so often expressed a desire to see the fine cathedral churches and abbeys of the old world, that I shall not apologize for giving you an account of them; and as they are more in my way, I shall take them into my hands, and let the lads write you about other things. The next visit we took, after I wrote you last, was to the cathedral. This is of great antiquity. In 1148, a monastery was dedicated to St. Augustine. This good man sent one Jordan as a missionary in 603, and here he labored faithfully and died. It seems, I think, well sustained that the venerable Austin himself preached here, and that his celebrated conference with the British clergy took place on College Green; and it is thought that the cathedral was built on its site to commemorate the event. The vicinity of the church is pleasing. The Fitzhardings, the founders of the Berkeley family, began the foundation of the abbey in 1140, and it was endowed and dedicated in 1148. The tomb of Sir Robert, the founder, lies at the east of the door, and is enclosed with rails. Some of the buildings connected with the church are of great antiquity, and are probably quite as old as the body of the cathedral. A gateway leading to the cloisters and chapter-house is plainly Saxon, and is regarded as the finest Saxon archway in England. The western part of the cathedral was demolished by Henry VIII. The eastern part, which remains, has a fine Gothic choir. This was created a bishop's see by Henry VIII. It is interesting to think that Secker, Butler, and Newton have all been bishops of this diocese, and Warburton, who wrote the Divine Legation of Moses, was once Dean of Bristol. The immortal Butler, who wrote the Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion, lies buried here, and his tombstone is on the south aisle, at the entrance of the choir. A splendid monument has been erected to his memory, with the following inscription from the pen of Robert Southey, himself a Bristolian:—

to the Memory of
twelve years Bishop of this Diocese,
afterwards of Durham, whose mortal remains
are here deposited. Others had established
the historical and prophetical grounds of the
Christian Religion, and that true testimony of Truth
which is found in its perfect adaptation to the heart
of man. It was reserved for him to develop its
analogy to the constitution and course of Nature;
and laying his strong foundations
in the depth of that great argument,
there to construct another and
irrefragable proof; thus rendering
Philosophy subservient
to Faith, and finding
in outward and
visible things
the type and evidence of those within the veil.
Born, A.D. 1693. Died, 1752.

We noticed a very fine monument by Bacon to the memory of Mrs. Draper, said to have been the Eliza of Sterne. We hastened to find the world-renowned tomb of Mrs. Mason, and to read the lines on marble of that inimitable epitaph, which has acquired a wider circulation than any other in the world. The lines were written by her husband, the Rev. William Mason.

"Take, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear;
Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave.
To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care
Her faded form; she bowed to taste the wave,
And died. Does youth, does beauty read the line?
Does sympathetic fear their breasts alarm?
Speak, dead Maria; breathe a strain divine;
E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm.
Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee;
Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move;
And if so fair, from vanity as free,
As firm in friendship, and as fond in love,—
Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die,
(Twas e'en to thee,) yet, the dread path once trod,
Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high,
And bids the pure in heart behold their God."

In the cloisters we saw the tomb of Bird the artist, a royal academician, and a native of Bristol. We were much interested with a noble bust of Robert Southey, the poet, which has just been erected in the north aisle. It stands on an octangular pedestal of gray marble, with Gothic panels. The bust is of the most exquisitely beautiful marble. The inscription is in German text.

Robert Southey,

Born in Bristol,

October 4, 1774;

Died at Reswick,

March 21, 1843.

Robert Southey Robert Southey

The cloisters contain some fine old rooms, which recall the days of the Tudors. Here we saw the apartments formerly occupied by the learned and accomplished Dr. Hodges, now organist of Trinity Church, New York. This gentleman is a native of Bristol, and is held, we find, in respectful and affectionate remembrance by the best people of this city.

Opposite to the cathedral, and on the other side of the college green, is the Mayor's Chapel, where his honor attends divine service. In Catholic days, this was the Church and Hospital of the Virgin Mary. This edifice was built by one Maurice de Gaunt in the thirteenth century. Under the tower at the east front is a small door, by which you enter the church, and on the north another, by which you enter a small room, formerly a confessional, with two arches in the walls for the priest and the penitent. In this room are eight niches, in which images once stood. The roof is vaulted with freestone, in the centre of which are two curious shields and many coats of arms. In 1830, this chapel was restored and beautified. A fine painted window was added, and the altar screen restored to its former beauty, at the expense of the corporation. The front of the organ gallery is very rich in Gothic moulding, tracery, crockets, &c. It is flanked at the angles with octagonal turrets, of singular beauty, embattled, and surmounted with canopies, crockets, &c. The spandrils, quatrefoils, buttresses, sculptures, and cornices are exceedingly admired. The pulpit is of stone, and the mayor's throne, of carved oak, is of elaborate finish. Here are two knights in armor, with their right hands on their sword hilts, on the left their shields, with their legs crossed, which indicates that they were crusaders.

In every excursion around Bristol, the boys were struck with the fact that an old tower was visible on a high hill. The hill is called Dundry, and it is said that it can be seen every where for a circle of five miles round the city. Dundry is five miles from Bristol, and fourteen from Bath, and it commands the most beautiful and extensive prospect in the west of England. We rode out to it with an early friend of mine, who is now the leading medical man of Bristol; and when I tell you that we went in an Irish jaunting car, you may guess that we were amused. The seats are at the sides, and George was in ecstasies at the novelty of the vehicle. When oh the summit, we saw at the north and east the cities of Bath and Bristol, and our view included the hills of Wiltshire, and the Malvern Hills of Worcestershire. The Severn, from north to west, is seen, embracing the Welsh coast, and beyond are the far-famed mountains of Wales. The church has a fine tower, with turreted pinnacles fifteen feet above the battlements. We rode over to Chew Magna, a village two miles beyond Dundry. Here I went to a boarding school thirty-eight years ago, and I returned to the village for the first time. It had altered but little. The streets seemed narrower; but there was the old tower where I had played fives, and there was the cottage where I bought fruit; and when I entered it, Charley, I found "young Mr. Batt"-a man of eighty-six. His father used to be "old Mr. Batt," and he always called his son his "boy," and we boys termed him "young Mr. Batt." I came back and found him eighty-six. So do years fly away. I called on one old school-fellow, some years my junior. He did not recognize me, but I at once remembered him. We partook of a lunch at his house. I was sadly disappointed to find the old boarding school gone, but was not a little relieved when I heard that it had given place to a Baptist church. I confess I should have liked to occupy its pulpit for one Sabbath day. To-morrow we are to spend at Clifton, the beautiful environ of Bristol, and shall most likely write you again.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 9.


Dear Charley:—

Clifton and the Hot Wells are the suburbs of this city, extending along for a mile or two on the banks of the Avon. One mile below the city the Avon passes between the rocks which are known as St. Vincent's on the one side, and Leigh Woods upon the opposite one. These rocks are amongst the sublimities of nature, and the Avon for about three miles presents the wildest and sweetest bit of scenery imaginable. These cliffs have been for ages the admiration of all beholders, and though thousands of tons are taken from the quarries every year, yet the inhabitants say that no great change takes place in their appearance. The Avon has a prodigious rise of tide at Bristol, and at low water the bed of the river is a mere brook, with immense banks of mud. The country all around is exquisitely attractive, and affords us an idea of cultivation and adornment beyond what we are accustomed to at home. In these rocks are found fine crystals, which are known every where as Bristol diamonds. We obtained some specimens, which reminded us of the crystals so frequently seen at Little Falls, on the Mohawk. The great celebrity of the Hot Wells is chiefly owing to a hot spring, which issues from the rock, and possesses valuable medical qualities.

This spring had a reputation as early as 1480. It discharges about forty gallons per minute, and was first brought into notice by sailors, who found it useful for scorbutic disorders. In 1680 it became famous, and a wealthy merchant rendered it so by a dream. He was afflicted with diabetes, and dreamed that he was cured by drinking the water of this spring. He resorted to the imagined remedy, and soon recovered. Its fame now spread, and, in 1690, the corporation of Bristol took charge of the spring. We found the water, fresh from the spring, at the temperature of Fahrenheit 76°. It contains free carbonic acid gas. Its use is seen chiefly in cases of pulmonary consumption. I suppose it has wrought wonders in threatening cases. It is the place for an invalid who begins to fear, but it is not possible to "create a soul under the ribs of death." Unhappily, people in sickness too seldom repair to such aid as may here be found till the last chances of recovery are exhausted. I have never seen a spot where I thought the fragile and delicate in constitution might pass a winter, sheltered from every storm, more securely than in this place. Tie houses for accommodation are without end, both at the Hot Wells and at Clifton. This last place is on the high ground, ascending up to the summit of the rocks, where you enter on a noble campus known as Durdham Down. This extends for some three or four miles, and is skirted by charming villages, which render the environs of Bristol so far-famed for beauty.

I never wished to have your company more than when we all ascended the height of St. Vincent's Rocks. The elevation at which we stood was about three hundred and fifty feet above the winding river which, it is thought, by some sudden convulsion of nature, turned from the moors of Somersetshire, its old passage to the sea, and forced an abrupt one between the rocks and the woods; and the corresponding dip of the strata, the cavities on one side, and projections on the other, make the supposition very plausible. A suspension bridge over this awful chasm is in progress.

The celebrated pulpit orator, Robert Hall, always spoke of the scenery of this region as having done very much in his early days to form his notions of the beautiful. In one of his most admirable sermons, preached at Bristol, when discoursing upon "the new heavens and the new earth," he indulged in an astonishing outbreak of eloquence, while he conducted his audience to the surpassing beauties of their own vicinage, sin-ruined as it was, and then supposed that this earth might become the dwelling-place of the redeemed, when, having been purified from all evil, it should again become "very good." Here, on these scenes of unrivalled beauty, Southey, and Lovell, and Coleridge, and Cottle have loved to meditate; and the wondrous boy Chatterton fed his muse amid these rare exhibitions of the power and wisdom of the Godhead. A Roman encampment is still visible on the summit of the rocks. We were all sorry, to see such havoc going on among the quarries, where, to use Southey's language on this subject, they are "selling off the sublime and beautiful by the boat load."

Samuel Taylor Coleridge. Samuel Taylor Coleridge.

Our favorite walk is on the downs. George seems really penetrated with the uncommon beauty of the region, and wants to stop as long as possible, and does not believe any thing can be more beautiful. We look over the awful cliffs—gaze on the thread of water winding its devious course at an immense distance below—watch the steamers from Wales and Ireland shoot up to the city, and the noble West Indiamen, as they are towed along. The woods opposite are charming, and contain nearly every forest-tree belonging to the country. Dr. Holland, in his travels through Greece, refers to this very spot in the following language: "The features of nature are often best described by comparison; and to those who have visited Vincent's Rocks, below Bristol, I cannot convey a more sufficient idea of the far-famed Vale of Tempe than by saying that its scenery resembles, though on a much larger scale, that of the former place. The Peneus, indeed, as it flows through the valley, is not greatly wider than the Avon, and the channel between the cliffs irregularly contracted in its dimensions; but these cliffs themselves are much loftier and more precipitous, and project their vast masses of rock with still more extraordinary abruptness over the hollow beneath." We devoted a morning to visit Leigh Court, the residence of Mr. Miles, a wealthy merchant and member in Parliament for Bristol. This is regarded as one of the finest residences in the west of England. The mansion has an Ionic portico, supported by massive columns. The great hall is very extensive. A double flight of steps leads you to a peristyle of the Ionic order, around which are twenty marble columns, supporting a lofty dome, lighted by painted glass. The floor is of colored marble. This residence has been enriched with the choicest treasures from Wanstead House, and Fonthill Abbey. To us the grand attraction was the Picture Gallery, which has few superiors in the kingdom. A catalogue, with etchings, was published a few years ago. You may judge of the merits of the collection, and the nature of our gratification, when I tell you that here are the Conversion of Paul, by Rubens; the Graces, by Titian; William Tell, by Holbein; Pope Julius II., by Raphael; Ecce Homo, by Carl Dolci; Head of the Virgin, by Correggio; St. Peter, by Guido; St. John, by Domenichino; Creator Mundi, by Leonardo da Vinci; Crucifixion, by Michael Angelo; Plague of Athens, by N. Poussin; three Seaports, by Claude; and a large number by Rembrandt, Salvator Rosa, Paul Potter, Parmegiano, Velasques, Gerard Dow, &c. This has been a most gratifying excursion, and our visit here will be a matter of pleasant recollection. I forgot to say that at Clifton, and at various places near the rocks, we were beset by men, women, and children, having very beautiful polished specimens of the various stones found in the quarries, together with minerals and petrifactions. Of these we all obtained an assortment.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 10.

Dear Charley:—

We have while at Bristol made two journeys to Bath, and I am sure we are all of opinion that it is the most elegant city we ever saw. A great deal of its beauty is owing to the fine freestone of which it is chiefly built.

We were much pleased with the Royal Crescent, which consists of a large number of elegant mansions, all built in the same style. Ionic columns rise from a rustic basement, and support the superior cornice. These houses are most elegantly finished. All the city is seen from the crescent, and no other spot affords so grand a prospect. Camden Place is an elliptical range of edifices, commanding an extensive view of the valley, with the winding stream of the Avon, and the villages upon its banks. One of the principal features of Bath is its hills and downs, which shelter it on every side. The sides on these downs are very fine, extending for miles, and you see thousands of sheep enjoying the finest possible pasturage. Talking of sheep, I am reminded how very fine the sheep are here; it seems to me they are almost as big again as our mutton-makers.

Queen Square, in Bath, pleases us all, as we are told it does every one. It stands up high, and is seen from most parts of the city. From north to south, between the buildings, if is three hundred and sixteen feet, and from east to west three hundred and six feet. In the centre is an enclosure, and in that is a fine obelisk. The north side of the square is composed of stately dwellings, and they have all the appearance of a palace. The square is built of freestone, and is beautifully tinted by age. The first thing almost we want to see in these fine towns is the cathedral, if there be one. I never thought that I should be so pleased with old buildings as I find I am. Old houses, castles, and churches have somehow strangely taken my fancy. The Cathedral, or, as they here call it, the Abbey Church, is a noble one. It was begun in 1495, and only finished in 1606, and stands on the foundation of an old convent, erected by Osric in 676. It is famous for its clustered columns, and wide, elegantly arched windows. The roof is remarkable for having fifty-two windows, and I believe has been called the Lantern of England. You know that the city takes its name from its baths. The great resort of fashion is at the Pump-room and the Colonnade. This building is eighty-five feet in length, forty-six wide, and thirty-four high. This elegant room is open to the sick of every part of the world. An excellent band plays every day from one till half past three.

The King's Bath is a basin sixty-six feet by forty-one, and will contain three hundred and forty-six tuns. I have been much pleased with Dr. Granville's works on the Spas of England, and there you will find much interesting matter respecting Bath.

We made some pleasant excursions in the vicinity of this beautiful city. We have visited Bradford, Trowbridge, and Devizes. Trowbridge is a fine old town, and we looked with interest at the church where the poet Crabbe so long officiated. His reputation here stands high as a good man and kind neighbor, but he was called a poor preacher. Here, and in all the neighboring places, the manufacture of broadcloths and cassimeres is carried on extensively. Devizes is a charming old town. We were greatly interested with its market-place, and a fine cross, erected to hand down the history of a sad event. A woman who had appealed to God in support of a lie was here struck dead upon the spot, and the money which she said she had paid for some wheat was found clinched in her hand. This monument was built by Lord Sidmouth, and is a fine freestone edifice, with a suitable inscription.

Roundaway Down, which hangs over this ancient town, was famous in the civil wars of Charles I. Here, too, are the relics of an old castle. Devizes has two great cattle fairs, in spring and autumn; and the market day, on Thursday, gave us a good idea of the rural population. We have rarely seen finer looking men than were here to be seen around their wheat, barley, and oats. We have been pleased to see the great English game of cricket, which is so universally played by all young men in this country. It seems to us that the boys here have more athletic games than with us. Prisoners' bass seems a favorite boys' amusement, and ninepins, or, as we call it, bowls, are played by all classes freely, and it is not regarded as at all unministerial. We are going to London this week, and shall commence sight-seeing in earnest. Above all, we are to be at the exhibition. When I have seen the lions, I will write you again.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 11.


Dear Charley:—

The story goes that Mr. Webster, when he first arrived in London, ordered the man to drive to the Tower. Certainly we boys all wanted to go there as soon as possible. I do not think that I ever felt quite so touch excitement as I did when we were riding to the Tower, I had so many things crowding into my mind; and all the history of England with which I have been so pleased came at once freshly into my memory. I wanted to be alone, and have all day to wander up and down the old prison and palace and museum, for it has been all these things by turns. Well, we rode over Tower Hill, and got directly in front of the old fortress, and had a complete view of it.

In the centre stands a lofty square building, with four white towers, having vanes upon them. This is said to be the work of William the Conqueror, but has had many alterations under William Rufus, Henry I., and Henry II. In 1315, the Tower was besieged by the barons who made war on John. Henry III. made his residence in this place, and did much to strengthen and adorn it. About this time the Tower began to be used as a state prison. Edward I. enlarged the ditch or moat which surrounded the Tower. In the days of Richard II., when the king had his troubles with Wat Tyler, the Archbishop of Canterbury was beheaded on Tower Hill, or, rather, massacred, for it said that he was mangled by eight strokes of the axe. When Henry V. gained his great victory at Agincourt, he placed his French prisoners here. Henry VIII. was here for some time after he came to the throne, and he made his yeomen the wardens of the Tower, and they still wear the same dress as at that day. The dress is very rich,—scarlet and gold,—and made very large; the coat short, and sleeves full. The head-dress is a cap.

We went in at what is called the Lion's Gate, because some time back the menagerie was kept in apartments close by. The kings of other days used to have fights between the beasts, and James I. was very fond of combats between lions and dogs in presence of his court. All these animals were moved several years ago to the Zoölogical Gardens. We passed through strong gates, defended by a portcullis, and on our left we saw what the warden called the Bell Tower, and which was the prison of Bishop Fisher, who was beheaded for not acknowledging Henry VIII. to be the head of the church. I wanted to see the Traitor's Gate, and found it was on the right hand, having a communication with the Thames under a bridge on the wharf. Through this passage it was formerly the custom to convey the state prisoners, and many a man in passing this gate bade farewell to hope.

There is, just opposite to this gate, the bloody tower where Edward V. and his brother were put to death by the monster Richard, who usurped the throne. I would have given a great deal to have explored the Tower, but the things and places I wanted to look into were just what you are not let see. The old Tower of English history you look at, but must not go through. Still I have been delighted, but not satisfied. We found the spot where the grand storehouse and armory were burnt in 1841, and, if I recollect rightly, the warden said it was three hundred and fifty feet long, and sixty wide. Here, I suppose, was the finest collection of cannon and small fire-arms in the world. We saw some few fine specimens that were saved. Of course, we were curious to see the Horse Armory. This is a room one hundred and fifty feet in length, and about thirty-five wide. Some one has said that here is "the History of England, done in iron." All down the middle of the room is a line of equestrian figures, and over each character is his banner. All the sides of the apartment are decorated with trophies and figures in armor. I was much gratified with the beautiful taste displayed in the arrangement of the arms upon the walls and ceiling. Some of the suits of armor were very rich, and answered exactly to my notions of such matters. Here I saw, for the first time, the coat of mail; and I think the men of that day must have been stronger than those of our time, or they never could have endured such trappings. I was much pleased with the real armor of Henry VIII. This suit was very rich, and damasked. And here, too, was the very armor of Dudley, Earl of Leicester, who figured at the court of Elizabeth. It weighs eighty-seven pounds; and close by it is the martial suit of the unfortunate Essex. He was executed, you know, at this place, 1601. Among the most beautiful armors we saw were the suits of Charles I. and a small one which belonged to his younger brother when a lad. I think one suit made for Charles when a boy of twelve would have fitted me exactly; and wouldn't I have liked to become its owner! King Charles's armor was a present from the city of London, and was one of the latest manufactured in England.

I do not think I ever was in a place that so delighted me. I cannot tell you a hundredth part of the curiosities that are to be seen s all sorts of rude ancient weapons; several instruments of torture prepared by the Roman Catholics, at the time of the Spanish Armada, for the conversion of the English heretics. One of these was the Iron Collar, which weighs about fifteen pounds, and has a rim of inward spikes; and besides, we saw a barbarous instrument, called the Scavenger's Daughter, which packed up the body and limbs into an inconceivably small space. We looked with deep interest, you may imagine, Charley, on the block on which the Scotch lords, Balmerino, Kilmarnook, and Lovat, were beheaded in 1746. The fatal marks upon the wood are deeply cut; and we had in our hands the axe which was used at the execution of the Earl of Essex. I shall read the history of this country, I am sure, with more pleasure than ever, after walking over the yard and Tower Hill, where so many great and good, as well as so many infamous, persons have suffered death. Only think what a list of names to be connected with the block—Fisher, More, Queen Anne Boleyn, Queen Catherine Howard, Margaret, Countess of Salisbury, Cromwell and Devereux, both Earls of Essex, the Duke of Somerset, Lady Jane Grey and her husband, the Duke of Northumberland, Sir Walter Raleigh, Strafford, Laud,—all perished on the Tower Green or on the Tower Hill. The spot is easily recognized where the scaffold was erected.

The regalia, or crown jewels, are kept in an apartment built on purpose to contain these precious treasures. Here are the crowns that once belonged to different sovereigns and heirs of the throne. At the death of Charles I., the crown in use, and said to be as old as the times of Edward the Confessor, was broken up, and a new one made at the restoration of Charles II. The arches of this crown are covered with large stones of different colors, and the cap of the crown is of purple velvet. The old crown for the queen is of gold, set with diamonds of great cost, and has some large pearls. There is a crown called "the Diadem," which was made for James II.'s queen, adorned with diamonds, and which cost just about half a million of dollars. The crown of the Prince of Wales is plain gold.

As for orbs, staffs, and sceptres, I can't tell you half the number. One I noticed called "St. Edward's Staff," of gold, four feet seven inches long. At the top is an orb and cross, and a fragment of the Savior's cross is said to be in the orb. Here, too, are all kinds of swords—called swords of justice and mercy—and vessels to hold the oil for anointing the monarch at coronation, and a saltcellar of gold which is used at the same time, and is a model of the Tower. I thought all this very fine; but I was most pleased with seeing such splendid specimens of precious stones. Such diamonds, pearls, amethysts, emeralds, &c., &c., we Yankee boys had never seen, and probably may never see again. I was very much delighted with a large silver wine fountain, presented by Plymouth to Charles II., and which is used at coronation banquets; and also with the font, of silver gilt; used at the baptism of the Queen. It stands about four feet high. Over all this show that I have told you of is the state crown made for Victoria. This is very brilliant, and in the centre of the diamond cross is a sparkling sapphire, while in front of the crown is a large ruby which was worn by the Black Prince. Well, Charley, my boy, I would rather go to Washington and look at our old copy of the Declaration of Independence than gaze for a whole day at this vast collection of treasure. There is more to be proud of in that old camp equipage of Washington's up in the patent office than in all the crown jewels of England—at least, so I think, and so do you.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 12.


Dear Charley:—

George has said his say about the Tower, he tells me; and I assure you it was a time that we shall often think of when we get back. On our return, the doctor proposed that we should visit the Thames Tunnel, which was not far off; and so we went through a number of poor streets, reminding us of the oldest parts of Boston round Faneuil Hall. The tunnel connects Rotherhithe and Wapping. This last place, you know, we have read about enough in Dibdin's Sea Songs, our old favorite.

Several notions about this great idea have been entertained in past years; but in 1814, Brunei, the great engineer, noticed the work of a worm on a vessel's keel, where it had sawn its way longitudinally, and he caught an idea. In 1833, he formed a "Thames Tunnel Company," and in 1825 he commenced operations, but it was not opened till 1843 for passengers. There are no carriage approaches to it, and it is only available to foot travellers. The ascent and descent is by shafts of, perhaps, one hundred steps. I think I heard that the great work cost the company, and government, who helped them, about half a million sterling. The passages are all lighted up with gas, and in the way you find raree shows of a dioramic character, and plenty of music, and not a few venders of views and models of the tunnel. After leaving this river curiosity, we went to see the new Houses of Parliament, which run along the banks of the river, in close neighborhood to Westminster Abbey. I felt disappointed at the first view, it is altogether so much like a very large pasteboard model—such a thing as you often see in ladies' fairs for charity. To my notion, the affair wants character; it is all beautiful detail. The length is about oho thousand feet. The clock tower is to be three hundred and twenty feet high. It is vain to describe the building, which is far too immense and complicated for my pea. I never was so bewildered in a place before. As I think you would like to have a correct idea of the House of Lords, I will quote from the description which was handed us on entering, but even then you will fail to understand its gorgeous character.

"Its length is ninety feet; height, forty-five feet, and width the same; so that it is a double cube. It is lighted by twelve windows, six on each side, each of which is divided by mullions into four, these being intersected by a transom, making eight lights in each window, which are made of stained glass, representing the kings and queens, consort and regnant, since the Conquest. The ceiling is flat, and divided into eighteen large compartments, which are subdivided by smaller ribs into four, having at the intersection lozenge-shaped compartments. The centre of the south end is occupied by the throne, each side of which are doors opening into the Victoria Lobby. The throne is elevated on steps. The canopy is divided into three compartments, the centre one rising higher than the others, and having under it the royal chair, which is a brilliant piece of workmanship; studded round the back with crystals. The shape of the chair is similar in outline to that in which the monarchs have been crowned, and which is in Westminster Abbey, but, of course, widely different in detail and decoration. On each side of this chair are others for Prince Albert and the Prince of Wales. At the north end is the bar of the house, where appeals are heard, and the Commons assemble when summoned on the occasion of the opening of Parliament. Above the bar is the reporters' gallery, behind which is the strangers', and round the sides of the House is another gallery, intended for the use of peeresses, &c., on state occasions.

"At the north and south ends of the house, above the gallery, are three compartments, corresponding in size and shape to the windows, and containing fresco paintings. Those at the north end are 'the Spirit of Religion,' by J.C. Horsley; 'the Spirit of Chivalry' and 'the Spirit of Justice,' by D. Maclise, R.A. Those at the south end, over the throne, are 'the Baptism of Ethelbert,' by Dyce; 'Edward III. conferring the Order of the Garter on the Black Prince,' and 'the Committal of Prince Henry by Judge Gascoigne,' by C.W. Cope, R.A. Between the windows are richly-decorated niches and canopies, which are to have bronze statues in them. In casting the eye round the whole room, it is almost impossible to detect scarcely a square inch which is not either carved or gilded. The ceiling, with its massive gilded and decorated panels, presents a most imposing and gorgeous effect, and one of truly royal splendor. The St. Stephen's Hall is ninety-five feet long, thirty feet wide, and sixty feet high; the roof is stone-groined, springing from clustered columns running up the side of the hall. The bosses, at the intersections of the main ribs, are carved in high relief, with incidents descriptive of the life of Stephen.

"This hall leads through a lofty archway into the central hall, which is octagon in plan, having columns at the angles, from which spring ribs forming a grand stone groin finishing in the centre, with an octagon lantern, the bosses at the intersections of all the ribs elaborately carved. The size of this hall is sixty-eight feet in diameter, and it is sixty feet to the crown of the groin."

The House of Commons, which is now in the course of completion, is quite a contrast to the splendor of the House of Lords. Its length is eighty-four feet; width, forty-five feet; and height, forty-three feet. An oak gallery runs all round the house, supported by posts at intervals, having carved heads, and spandrills supporting the main ribs. The strangers' gallery is at the south end, in front of which is the speaker's order gallery. At the north end is the reporters' gallery, over which is the ladies' gallery—being behind a stone screen. The libraries are fine rooms, looking out on the river. I have no time to tell you of the beautiful refreshment rooms, excepting to say that the one for the peers is one hundred feet long. I must not forget to say that in the tower is to be a wondrous clock, the dial of which is to be thirty feet in diameter! We went to see these buildings by an order from the lord chamberlain. The total cost is estimated at between eight and ten millions of dollars. It certainly is very rich, and looks finely from the river; but it is unfortunately too near to the abbey, and wants force. After leaving the Houses of Parliament, we went to Westminster Hall, which has some of the finest historical recollections connected with any public building in England. Really, I felt more awe in entering this hall than I ever remember to have experienced. I cannot tell you the size of it, but it is the largest room in Europe without a support, and the span of the roof is the widest known. The roof, of chestnut, is exceedingly fine. Only think, my dear fellow, what events have transpired on this spot. The following trials took place here: Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, for high treason, 1521; Sir Thomas More, 1535; Duke of Somerset, for treason, 1552; Thomas Howard, Duke of Norfolk, for his attachment to Mary, Queen of Scots; Robert Devereux, Earl of Essex, 1601, and Earl of Southampton; Guy Fawkes and the Gun-powder Plot conspirators; Robert Carr, Earl of Southampton, and his countess, for murder of Sir Thomas Overbury, 1616; Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, 1641; Archbishop Laud; Charles I., for his attacks upon the liberties of his country, 1649; the seven bishops, in the reign of James II.; Dr. Sacheverel, 1710; in 1716, the Earls Derwentwater, Nithisdale, and Carnwath, and the Lords Widdington, Kenmure, and Nairn, for the rebellion of 1715; Harley, Earl of Oxford, 1717; the Earls Cromartie and Kilmarnock, and Lord Balmerino, 1746, for the rebellion of 1745; Lord Lovat, 1747; William Lord Byron, for the death of William Chaworth in a bloody duel, 1765; Lord Ferrers, for the murder of his steward; the infamous Duchess of Kingston, for bigamy, 1776; and Warren Hastings, for cruelty in his office as Governor of India, 1788.

And besides all this, here have been the coronation feasts of all England's monarchs, from William Rufus, who built it in 1099, down to George IV., 1820. Sad times and merry ones have been here. We stepped from the hall into the courts of law, which have entrances from this apartment, and we saw the lord chancellor on the bench in one, and the judges sitting in another. The courts were small, and not very imposing in their appearance.

Yours truly,


Letter 13.


Dear Charley:—

O, we have had a noble treat; and how I longed for your company, as we spent hour after hour in the British Museum. The building is very fine, but the inside—that is every thing. The entire front is, I think, about four hundred feet, and I reckoned forty-four columns forming a colonnade; these are forty-five feet high. The portico is now receiving magnificent sculpture in relief; and when the whole is finished, and the colossal statues surmount the pediment, and the fine iron palisadoes, now erecting, are completed, I think the edifice will be among the finest in the world. The entrance hall is most imposing, and the ceiling is richly painted in encaustic. The staircases are very grand, and their side walls are cased with red Aberdeen granite, brought to an exquisite polish. To describe the British Museum would be a vain attempt. In the hall are several fine statues. Especially did we admire the one of Shakspeare by Roubilliac, and given by Garrick. We soon found our way to the Nineveh Gallery, and were wide awake to look after the relics of Nineveh dug up by Layard on the banks of the Tigris. Here is a monstrous human head, having bull's horns and ears, many fragments of horses' heads, bulls, &c., &c. The colossal figure of the king is very grand, and discovers great art. There is also a fine colossal priest, and the war sculptures are of the deepest interest. Then we went to the Lycian Room. The sculptures here were found at Xanthus, in Lycia. These ruins claim a date of five hundred years before Christ. Here are some exquisite fragments of frieze, describing processions, entertainments, sacrifices, and female figures of great beauty.

In the Grand Saloon are numerous Roman remains of sculpture. In the Phigalian Saloon are marbles found at a temple of Apollo, near Phigalia, in Arcadia, in 1814. The Elgin Saloon is devoted to the magnificent marbles taken in 1804, from temples at Athens, by the Earl of Elgin, and were purchased by Parliament for thirty-five thousand pounds. They are chiefly ornaments from the Parthenon, a Doric temple built in the time of Pericles, B.C. 450, by Phidias. No one can fail to be impressed with the great beauty of these conceptions. The famous Sigean inscription is written in the most ancient of Greek letters, boustrophedon-wise; that is, the lines follow each other as oxen turn from one furrow to another in ploughing.

There are five galleries devoted to natural history, and are named thus: the Botanical Museum, Mammalia Gallery, Eastern Zoölogical Gallery, Northern Zoölogical Gallery, and the Mineral Gallery. The specimens in all these are very fine. Nothing can be finer than the mammalia. The preservation has been perfect, and far surpasses what I have been accustomed to see in museums, where decay seems to be often rioting upon the remains of nature. The department of ornithology is wonderful, and I could have enjoyed a whole day in examining the birds of all climates. In conchology the collection is very rich. I do not often get such a gratification as I had among the portraits which are hanging on the walls of these galleries. The very men I had heard so much of, and read about, were here lifelike, painted by the best artists of their day. I was much pleased with the picture of Mary, Queen of Scots, by Jansen; of Cromwell, by Walker; of Queen Elizabeth, by Zucchero; of Charles II., by Lely; of Sir Isaac Newton; of Lord Bacon; of Voltaire; of John Guttenburg; and of Archbishop Cranmer. As to the library and the MSS., what shall I say? The collection of books is the largest in the kingdom, and valuable beyond calculation. It amounts to seven hundred thousand. We looked at illuminated gospels, Bibles, missals, till we were bewildered with the gold and purple splendor; and then we walked from one glass case to another, gazing upon autographs that made us heart-sick when we thought of our juvenile treasures in this line. If ever I did covet any thing, it was some old scraps of paper which had the handwriting of Milton, Cromwell, Luther, Melancthon, Erasmus, and a long et cætera of such worthies. You know how much we love medals and coins; well, here we revelled to our heart's delight. Country after country has its history here, beautifully illustrated. The museum has two spacious rooms devoted to reading, and the access to these treasures is very liberal.

If I could stay in London one year, I should certainly propose to spend three or four months in study and research at the British Museum; nor do I imagine that it would be lost time. It seems to me that such a place must make scholars; but I know, by my own painful recollection, that opportunities for improvement are not always valued as they should be. I have been much struck lately with the thought that men of leisure are not the men who do much in literature. It never has been so. Here and there a rich man cultivates his mind; but it is your busy men who leave the mark upon the age.

While in the museum, we were shown Lord Chief Justice Campbell, the author of the Lives of the Chancellors, &c. He is a working-man, if there be one in England, and yet he finds time to elaborate volume upon volume. I feel ashamed when I think how little I have acquired, how very little I know that I might have understood, and what immensely larger acquisitions have been made by those who have never enjoyed half my advantages. There is a boy, only fifteen, who resorts to this museum, and is said to understand its contents better than most of its visitors; and a livery servant, some few years ago, used to spend all his hours of leisure here, and wrote some excellent papers upon historical subjects. If I have gained any good by my journey yet, it is the conviction, I feel growing stronger every day, that I must work, and that every one must work, in order to excel. It seems to me that we are in a fair way to learn much in our present tour, for every day's excursion becomes a matter of regular study when we come to our journal, which is now kept posted up daily, as a thing of course. We are trying, at all events, to make ourselves so familiar with the great attractions of London, that in future life we may understand the affairs of the city when we hear of them.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 14.


Dear Charley:—

Ever since we reached London, I have wanted to go to Woolwich, the great naval arsenal and dockyard, because I expected I should obtain a pretty good idea of the power of the British navy; and then I like to compare such places with our own; and I have often, at Brooklyn Navy Yard, thought how much I should like to see Woolwich. Woolwich is one the Thames, and about ten miles from the city. You can go at any hour by steamer from London Bridge, or take the railway from the Surrey side of the bridge. We were furnished with a ticket of admission from our minister; but unfortunately, we came on a day when the yard was closed by order. We were sadly disappointed, but the doorkeeper, a very respectable police officer, told us that our only recourse was to call on the commanding officer, who lived a mile off, and he kindly gave us a policeman as a guide. On our way, we met the general on horseback, attended by some other officers. We accosted him, and told our case. He seemed sorry, but said the yard was closed. As soon as we mentioned that we came from America, he at once gave orders for our admission, and was very polite. Indeed, on several occasions we have found that our being from the United States has proved quite a passport.

We had a special government order to go over all the workshops and see the steam power, &c., &c. I think I shall not soon forget the wonderful smithery where the Nasmyth hammers are at work, employed in forging chain cables and all sorts of iron work for the men-of-war. We went in succession through the founderies for iron and brass, the steam boiler manufactory, and saw the planing machines and lathes; and as to all the other shops and factories, I can only say, that the yard looked like a city.

We were much pleased with the ships now in progress. One was the screw steamer, the Agamemnon, to have eighty-guns. There, too, is the Royal Albert, of one hundred and twenty guns, which they call the largest ship in the world. Of course, we think this doubtful. It has been nine years in progress, and will not be finished for three more. It is to be launched when the Prince of Wales attains the rank of post captain. We saw, among many other curiosities, the boat in which Sir John Ross was out twenty-seven days in the ice. We went into an immense building devoted to military stores, and in one room we saw the entire accoutrements for ten thousand cavalry, including bridles, saddles, and stirrups, holsters, &c.

The yard is a very large affair, containing very many acres; it is the depository of the cannon belonging to the army and navy for all the region, and there were more than twenty thousand pieces lying upon the ground. Some were very large, and they were of all varieties known in war.

After a delightful hour spent in listening to the best martial music I ever heard played, by the band, we took steamboat for Greenwich, and, landing there, walked to Blackheath, where we had an engagement to dine at Lee Grove with a London merchant. Here we had a fine opportunity to witness the luxury and elegance of English social life. This gentleman, now in the decline of life, has an exquisitely beautiful place, situated in a park of some sixty acres. The railroad has been run through his estate, and, of course, has made it very much more valuable for building; but as it injures the park for the embellishment of the mansion, it was a fair subject for damages, and the jury of reference gave its proprietor the pretty verdict of eleven thousand pounds. At the table we had the finest dessert which the hothouse can furnish. Our host gave us a very interesting account of his travels in America more than forty years ago. A journey from New York to Niagara, as related by this traveller, was then far more of an undertaking than a journey from New Orleans to New York, and a voyage thence to England, at the present time.

In the evening, we took the cars for London, and reached our comfortable hotel, the Golden Cross, Charing Cross, at eleven o'clock. By the way, we are all very much pleased with the house and its landlord. Mr. Gardiner is a very gentlemanly man, of fine address and acquirements. He has been a most extensive traveller in almost every part of the world, and has a fine collection of paintings, and one of the prettiest cabinets of coins and medals I ever saw. He has a pretty cottage and hothouses four or five miles from the city; and his family resides partly there and at the hotel. The hotel is every thing that can be desired.

A few evenings ago, Mr. Lawrence had a splendid soirée. There were probably from two to three hundred present. Among the company were Sir David Brewster, Leslie the artist, Miss Coutts, the Duke of Wellington. "The duke," as he is called, is the great man of England. All the people idolize him, and he is known to be a great man. He has become more identified with the history of England for the last forty years than any other man. Of course, he was to us Americans the great man of the country. Whenever I have read of Napoleon, I have had Wellington in my eye, and to see him was next to seeing the emperor. I never expected the pleasure, but here it is allotted me. He is quite an old man in his bearing and gait. He was dressed in a blue coat with metal buttons, wore his star and garter, and had on black tights and shoes. He had been to the opera, and then came to this party. Every one pays the most deferential homage to the old hero. Waterloo and its eventful scenes came directly before me, and I felt almost impatient for our visit to the battle-field.

A gentleman who knows the duke told us that he spends from four to five hours every morning at the Horse Guards in the performance of his duties as commander-in-chief. Although he looks so feeble in the drawing-room, he sits finely on his horse; and when I saw him riding down Piccadilly, he seemed to be full twenty years younger than he was the day before at the party.

We shall always be glad that we came to England in time to see "the duke," and if we live twenty or thirty years, it will be pleasant to say "I have seen the Duke of Wellington."

Yours affectionately,


Letter 15.


Dear Charley:—

I know how curious you are to hear all about the royal exhibition, so I shall do my best to give you such an account of our visits to it as may enable you to get a bird's eye view of the affair.

Almost as soon as I arrived, I determined upon securing season tickets for the boys, in order that they might not only see the pageant of the opening on the 1st of May, but also have frequent opportunities to attend the building and study its contents before the reduced prices should so crowd the palace as to render examination and study nearly impracticable. However, there came a report through all the daily papers that the queen had abandoned the idea of going in person to inaugurate the exhibition, and the sale of tickets flagged, and it was thought prices would be reduced below the three guineas, which had been the rate. I left London for a few days without purchasing, and on my return I called for four season tickets, when, to my surprise, I was told that, just an hour before, orders had been given from the board to raise them to four guineas. I at once purchased them, although I regarded the matter as an imposition. A few days after, Prince Albert revoked the action of the board, and orders were issued to refund the extra guinea to all who had purchased at the advanced price. This was easily ascertained by reference to the number on the ticket, and registered at purchase with the autograph of the proprietor. Of course, we saved our four guineas.

For several days before the 1st of May all London, I may say all England, and almost all the world was on tiptoe. Every man, woman, and child talked of "the Crystal Palace, the great exhibition, the queen, and prince Albert."

For a week or two there had been a succession of cold rain storms. Winter had lingered in the lap of April. Men were looking at the 1st of May with gloomy anticipations of hail, rain, snow, and sleet. Barometers were in demand. The 30th of April gave a hail storm! The 1st of May arrives,—the day,—and lo!

"Heaven is clear,
And all the clouds are gone."

It was as though the windows of heaven were opened to let the glory from above stream through and bless Industry's children, who are about to celebrate their jubilee. The queen, it is said, has a charm as regards the weather. I heard many exclaim, "It is the queen's weather; it is always her luck." Such a sight as that day afforded was never before witnessed, and such a spectacle will probably never again be gazed upon. The streets were thronged early. Every westward artery of the great city pulsated with the living tide that flowed through it. From the far east, where the docks border the Thames, came multitudes, though not exactly stars in the hemisphere of fashion. Ladies in the aristocratic precincts of Belgravia rose at an early hour, and, for once, followed the queen's good, every-day example. The lawyers rushed from Lincoln's and Gray's Inns of Court. The Royal Exchange was so dull at ten o'clock that the very grasshopper on its vane might have been surprised. Holborn was crammed at when in olden time people pressed, and struggled, and strove to see Jack Sheppard, Joshua Wild, Dick Turpin, or any such worthies on their sad way to Tyburn. But it is no gibbet now allures the morbid multitude. They are gayly, gently, and gladly travelling to the home of industry. Among all the pleasant sights that every moment delighted us none were more pleasant than the happy family groups, who, on every side, "push along, keep moving." Just see that mechanic; he looks as proud as a lord,—and why shouldn't he be?—with his wife leaning trustingly, lovingly on his arm. He, good man, has thrown away the saw, or plane, or any other tool of handicraft, and now his little boy—O, the delight, the wonder in that boy's face!—is willingly dragged along. Well, on we go,—driving across what you would call impassable streets, and lo! we are wedged up in a crowd,—and such a crowd,—a crowd of all nations.

At length we reach the palace gates; and there, who can tell the press and strife for entrance. Long and nobly did the police struggle and resist, but at length the outward pressure was omnipotent, and the full tide of lucky ones with season tickets gained, entrance into, not the palace, but the enclosure. Then came order,—breathing space,—tickets were examined, and places assigned on cards, given as we entered into the palace itself. We all obtained good positions—very good ones. This was at eleven o'clock. At about a quarter to twelve, one standing near to us remarked, "She will be to her time; she always is." And he was right; for scarcely had he prophesied before a prolonged shouting told that the queen was coming. "Plumes in the light wind dancing" were the outward and visible signs of the Life Guards, who came gently trotting up. Then came four carriages,—the coachmen and footmen of which were so disguised with gold lace, and wigs, and hair powder, that their mothers wouldn't have known them,—and then the queen—not robed and tricked out like the queens in children's story books, so dreadful as to resemble thunderbolts in petticoats; not hooped, and furbelowed, and stomachered, and embroidered all over, as was Elizabeth; nor with a cap, like Mary, Queen of Scots; not with eight horses prancing before the queen's carriage, but in her private carriage, drawn by two horses. Off went all hats. I wish you could have heard the cheering as the queen entered the wondrous building. O, it was like "the voice of many waters." Such deep, prolonged, hearty cheering I never, heard. As Victoria entered, up went the standard of England, and never before did its folds wave over such a scene. The entrance of majesty was the signal for the organ to play; the vitreous roof vibrates as the sounds fly along the transparent aisles; and we had musical glasses on a large scale. It would require the pen of our favorite Christopher North to describe the magnificent scene when the queen ascended the throne, surrounded by all the elegance and nobility of her kingdom. Her husband reads an address; she replies; the venerable archbishop dedicates the Temple of Industry. The queen declares the palace opened, and the procession is formed to walk through its aisles. No small task this; but then thirty thousand persons are waiting to gaze on the queen and her court. A ludicrous sight it was to see two of England's proudest peers walking backward before the queen. The Marquis of Westminster and Earl of Breadalbane performed this feat, and glad enough must they have been when they received their dismission. The heralds, some twelve or fourteen, in black velvet, looked finely. The queen walked like a queen, and bore herself nobly and womanly. She is a small figure, fair face, light hair, large, full, blue eyes, plump cheek, and remarkably fine neck and bust. She leaned upon her husband's right arm, holding in her hand the Prince of Wales, while Prince Albert led the princess royal. I was sadly disappointed in the appearance of the Prince of Wales. He is altogether a feeble-looking child, and cannot have much mental force. The princess is a fine, energetic-looking girl. We stood within a yard of the royal party as it passed bowing along. Then came the members of the royal family; and then visitors from Prussia and Holland; the ladies and gentlemen of the queen's household; the cabinet ministers; the foreign ministers; the archbishop in his robe, and the members of the royal commission; the lord mayor of London, and the aldermen. There, too, was Paxton, the architect of this great wonder. It was his day of triumph, and every one seemed to be glad for his fortune. All these were in gorgeous court dresses. I have seen all sorts and kinds of show, but never did I witness such a spectacle as was this day afforded to the congress of the world. The Duke of Wellington, and his companion in arms, the Marquis of Anglesea, walked arm in arm, "par nobilis fratrum." It was Wellington's birthday. He is eighty-two, and Anglesea eighty-one. The Marquis walks well for a man of his age, and who has to avail himself of an artificial leg. They were most enthusiastically cheered in all parts of the house. In the diplomatic corps there was great splendor of costume, but no man carried himself more stately than did Mr. Lawrence, whose fine, manly figure admirably becomes a court dress. I do not think that I ever saw a collection of ladies so plain and homely as the court ladies of Queen Victoria, who walked behind her in procession. The Duchess of Sutherland has been renowned for her majestic beauty; but she is passe, and her friends are, I think, matchless for entire destitution of personal charms. But there was enough present to atone for the want of this in the royal circle. Some of the most exquisite faces I ever saw were there in those galleries, and forms of beauty that can hardly be surpassed. I was much surprised at noticing in the vast crowd, known to be about thirty thousand, that there were so few lads. I do not believe there were more than ten or fifteen in the palace; and, as we have already said, the absence of lads is owing to their all being at boarding-schools. Our boys, you may well suppose, are greatly pleased with having witnessed the greatest pageant of the age, and one that can never be surpassed. We shall soon be at the exhibition again, and apply ourselves to a careful survey of its interesting contents.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 16.


Dear Charley:—

Now that the excitement consequent on the opening of the Crystal Palace has in some degree subsided and curiosity to a certain extent satisfied, we are enabled to obtain more lucid ideas of this extraordinary building and its wondrous contents. The admission for several days was one pound, and at this high price the visitors were of the most fashionable character. We have been much pleased in looking at the very fine equipages that throng the roads around the park. The carriages, horses, end liveries are in the best possible taste. When we entered, the palace was no longer heightened in splendor by the presence of the sovereign and her brilliant court. The superb canopy which overshadowed the dais on which the gorgeous chair had stood, alone remained to indicate that there England's queen had performed the inaugural rites; but the great facts of the exhibition remained. The crystal fountain still played, the magnificent elms appeared in their spring garniture of delicate green beneath the lofty transept, and the myriad works of skill, art, and science lay around, above, and beneath us. I entered the building by its eastern door, and, immediately on passing the screen which interposes between the ticket offices and the interior, the whole extent of the palace of glass lay before me. Fancy yourself standing at the end of a broad avenue, eighteen hundred and fifty feet in length, roofed with glass, and bounded laterally by gayly-decorated, slender pillars. The effect was surpassingly beautiful. Right and left of this splendid nave were other avenues, into which the eyes wandered at will; for no walls, no barriers are to be found in the whole building; all is open, from floor to roof, and from side to side, and from the eastern to the western extremity.

Proceeding westward, I saw the compartments allotted to our own country. The first thing I noticed was a piece of sculpture,—the dying Indian,—a fine production, though perhaps a trifle overdone. Then came an American bridge, which painters were still at work upon; and then, backed by drapery of crimson cloth, that splendid creation of genius, the Greek Slave, which will immortalize the name of Hiram Powers. I shall not, I think, be accused of national partiality when I assert that this statue is, in sculpture, one of the two gems of the exhibition. Perhaps, if I were not from the United States, I should say it was "the gem." When I come to tell you of the Italian marbles, I shall refer to that production of art which can alone be thought to dispute the palm of superiority with it. Every one expresses the highest admiration at the Slave, and a crowd is constantly around the spot. One old gentleman, who was in an ecstasy over the sculpture, very sharply rebuked a person complaining of the paucity of the American productions, with "Fie, there is one thing America has sent, that all Europe may admire, and no one in Europe can equal." Turning aside from this "breathing marble," I examined the American exhibition of products and manufactures. I confess to you I felt mortified with the comparative meagreness of our show, because it contrasts poorly with the abundance exhibited by nations far inferior to us in skill and enterprise. Still, we have much to show; but the useful prevails over the beautiful. I am quite sure, too, that there are things here which will compel attention, and carry away calm, dispassionate approbation from the jurors. The United States exhibits numerous specimens of tools, cordage, cotton and woolen fabrics, shawls, colors, prints, daguerreo-types, silver and gold plate, pianos, musical instruments, harnesses, saddlery, trunks, bookbinding, paper hangings, buggies, wagons, carriages, carpetings, bedsteads, boots and shoes, sculls, boats, furs, hair manufactures, lithographs, perfumery, soaps, surgical instruments, cutlery, dentistry, locks, India rubber goods, machinery, agricultural implements, stoves, kitchen ranges, safes, sleighs, maps, globes, philosophical instruments, grates, furnaces, fire-arms of all descriptions, models of railroads, locomotives, &c. You may add to these fine specimens of all our produce, as cotton, sugar, tobacco, hemp, and the mineral ores—iron, lead, zinc, plumbago, tin, and copper, coals of all kinds, preserved meats, &c., &c.

I wish, Charley, you could go with me into a door south of the transept, over which, in oddly-shaped letters, are the words "MEDIÆVAL COURT." The very name reminds one of Popery, Puseyism, and Pugin. This mediæval court absolutely dazzles one's eyes with its splendors. Auriferous draperies line the walls; from the ceiling hang gold and silver lamps—such lamps as are to be seen in Romish chapels before the statues of the Virgin; huge candlesticks, in which are placed enormous candles; Gothic canopies and richly-carved stalls; images of he and she saints of every degree; crucifixes and crosiers; copes and mitres; embroideries, of richest character, are all here—things which the mother of harlots prizes as the chosen instruments by which she deceives the nations. And truly beautiful are many of these things as works of art; but it is only as works of art that any Christian can admire them. As I gazed on the rich tissues and golden insignia, I mourned for poor corrupt human nature, to which alone such gewgaws could be acceptable. How would Paul or Peter have stared, had they been required to don such glittering pontificals as are here to be seen! While I feel great respect for Pugin's ability as an architect and designer, I have profound pity for those who are deluded by these gorgeous symbols of a gloomy, cruel, and heartless creed.

There is a large golden cage, not altogether unlike a parrot's; and there is a press, indeed. What calls such attention from the multitude? I join the gazers, and see what at first appears to be three pieces of irregularly-shaped glass, white and glittering; one large piece, about the size of a walnut, and two others a little larger than marbles. What renders that bit of glass so attractive? Glass! no; it is "a gem of purest ray serene"—a diamond—the diamond of diamonds—the largest in the world. In short, it is the Kohinoor; or, as the Orientals poetically called it, "the mountain of light." Its estimated value is two millions sterling—enough to buy the Crystal Palace itself, nine times over. The history of this precious gem is romantically curious. It belonged to Runjeet Sindjb and is now an English trophy.

Let us enter that partially-darkened chamber, and stand before a painted glass window, the production of Bertini, of Milan. I can't describe this extraordinary production. It is illustrative of Dante, and, for brilliancy of color and harmony of combination, it is not surpassed by the much-vaunted specimens of past ages.

"From the sublime to the ridiculous," said Burke, "there is but a step;" and at not much greater distance from this Dantean window is a German toy stand. It is amusing to observe a big, "Tenbroek" sort of son of Allemagne, arranging tiny children's toys. The contrast between the German giant and the petty fabrics he is setting off to the best advantage, provokes a smile.

Let us join the throng rushing into the suite of rooms furnished by the upholsterers of Vienna. These rooms are indeed magnificent, and must afford a high treat to the lovers of wood carving. There is a bookcase, which is almost a miracle of art; the flowers seem to wave, and the leaves to tremble, so nearly do they approach the perfection of nature. Then there is, it is said by judges, the most superb bed in the world; it is literally covered with carvings of the most costly and delicate description. Since the time of the famous Grinling Gibbons, the English carver, nothing has been seen like it. These Austrian rooms are among the great guns of the show, and will repay repeated visits.

Here stands the glorious Amazon of Kiss, of Berlin. This group, of colossal proportions, represents a female on horseback, in the act of launching a javelin at a tiger which has sprung on the fore quarter of her affrighted steed. This is a wonderful work of art, and places its author in the first rank of sculptors. Nothing can surpass the lifelike character of the Amazon's horse and the ferocious beast. As a tribute to the genius of Kiss, a grand banquet is to be given to him by the sculptors and artists of England. Well does he deserve such an honor.

Close by the Amazon is a colossal lion in bronze. This is the softest piece of casting I ever saw; the catlike motion of the paw is perfectly lifelike. I turn back again to that Amazon. I could gaze on the agony of that horse for hours, and think I should continue to discover new beauties.

The Crusader, a colossal equestrian statue of Godfrey of Bouillon, is also very imposing. The entire floor is covered in the centre of the avenue, from east to west, with beautiful statues, models, &c.

We ascended to one of the galleries for the purpose of taking a bird's eye view of the gay, busy scene; and a most splendid scene was thrown open to our gaze. Far as the eye could reach, the building was alive with gayly-dressed people, who, amidst statues, and trophies, and trees, and fountains, wandered as in the groves of some enchanted land. As I strolled onwards, I came to where a tiny fountain sent up its silvery jet of eau de Cologne, and an assistant of Jean Marie Farina, from a little golden spoon, poured on my handkerchief, unasked, the odoriferous essence. Then we lingered to witness two of the noblest cakes, the sight of which ever gladdened the heart of a bride. Gunter, the great pastry cook, was the architect of the one which was a triumph of taste. The other was adorned with Cupid and Psyche-like emblems. Then came wax flowers, beaded artfully with glass, so as to appear spangled with dewdrops. Then we inspected Cashmere shawls, on which I saw many a lady cast looks, of admiration, and, I almost fancied, of covetousness.

Down again, and we are beneath the transept. Beautiful, head, far higher than the tops of the huge elm-trees, is a crystal arch which spans this intersecting space. Around are marble statues, which gleam lustrously amid the foliage of tropical plants, which, shielded from the chilling air without, seem to be quite at home here. And in the midst up rises Osler's crystal fountain—a splendid affair, twenty-seven feet in height, and consisting of four tons of cut glass. So exquisitely is it arranged that no metal, either of joint or pipe, can be seen. It is "one entire and perfect chrysolite." From its lofty summit issues forth a dome of water, which separates, and falls in prismatic showers into a spacious basin beneath. There are three other fountains, but this is the monarch of all. On either side of this beautiful production of a Birmingham manufacturer are two equestrian statues of the queen and Prince Albert, about which I cannot speak in admiration. Groups of figures line the sides of the transept, and there is a Puck which I would like all friends to look at. O, he is alive with fun, and there marble speaks and laughs.

We have been greatly delighted with the English room of sculpture. There is a fine portrait statue of Flaxman, from the chisel of Franks; a very clever statue of John Wesley; but if I were to chronicle all the sculptures here, I may as well write a catalogue at once. But before I quit the subject of marble, let me just allude to the Italian gallery. There the specimens are indeed exquisite, and remind us that the genius of art yet loves to linger in the "land of the cypress and myrtle"—in that beautiful country

"Where the poet's eye and painter's hand
Are most divine."

Among the gems of marble is one which I told, you was the only possible rival of Powers's Greek Slave. This lovely production is "the Veiled Vesta." It represents a young and exquisitely-formed girl, kneeling and offering her oblation of the sacred fire. Her face is veiled; but every feature is distinctly visible, as it were, through the folds which cover her face. So wonderfully is the veil-like appearance produced, that myself and others were almost inclined to believe that some trick of art had been practised, and a film of gauze actually hung over the features. It was not so, however; the hard marble, finely managed, alone caused the deception. Raffael Monti, of Milan, is the illustrious artist of "the Veiled Vesta."

One of the most interesting machines in the whole exhibition is the envelope machine of Messrs. De la Rue & Co., of London. In its operations it more resembles the efforts of human intellect than any thing I have seen before in machinery. It occupies but a small space, and is worked by a little boy. In a second, and as if by magic, a blank piece of paper is folded, gummed, and stamped, and, in fact, converted into a perfect envelope. As soon as finished, a pair of steel fingers picks it up, lays it aside, and pushes it out of the way in the most orderly manner possible. These envelopes, so made, are given to all who choose to accept them. Opposite to this machine is the stand of Gillott, of steel pen celebrity. Here are pens of all sizes, and of various materials. One monster pen might fit a Brobdignagian fist, for it is two feet long, and has a nib one quarter of an inch broad; and there are others so small that no one but a Liliputian lady could use them. Between these extremes are others of various dimensions, arranged in a very tasteful manner. Something must be got out of this branch of business, for it is only a month or two since Mr. Gillott purchased an estate for ninety thousand pounds sterling. Here, too, is a novelty—the model of St. Stephen's Church, Bolton, Lancashire. The model and the church itself are both composed of terra cotta. This material was also employed in the construction of the principal fittings, such as the screen, pews, organ gallery, pulpit, &c. This is a new adaptation of terra cotta. The spire severely tests its capabilities, as it is of open Gothic, or tracery work.

A large model of Liverpool is beautifully constructed to scale, and must be the result of immense labor. It is twenty-five feet long, and exhibits at a glance a bird's eye view of the town, the docks, the River Mersey, and the adjacent places. Hundreds of miniature vessels, amongst them the Great Britain, crowd the docks; fleets of merchantmen are seen on the Mersey, sailing to and from the port; and in the busy streets, so minutely delineated that any particular house may be distinguished, numerous vehicles are seen, and hundreds, too, of pygmy men and women are observed walking in the public ways. In short; it is Liverpool in a glass case, and no mean exhibition in itself.

The Thames Plate Glass Company exhibit the largest plate of glass in the world; its dimensions are eighteen feet eight inches by ten feet. There is not a blemish on its brilliant surface, and it is as "true" as possible. It is placed in such a position that it reflects the whole length of the main avenue of the Crystal Palace, and the effect produced is superb. A Catholic bookseller from Belgium makes quite a display of his editions of devotional works for every country under heaven; and there, too, are the effigies of Cardinal Boromeo, Thomas à Becket, and the late Archbishop of Paris, all arrayed in full pontificals. Their crosiers are very richly jewelled. If the apostles of Christ could revisit the earth, they would never fancy that these were their successors in the work and patience of the gospel.

Few things have impressed me more than the exquisite carvings and elaborate work of the cabinet ware; and I must, Charley, try to describe one piece of furniture which excites universal praise. It is a cabinet made by John Stevens, of Taunton. It was prepared at great cost, and is the gem of the carved work in the exhibition. The wood of which it was composed was a walnut-tree, which, not long ago, flourished near Taunton. In order that you may not suppose, I praise every thing too highly, and without sufficient ground for admiration, I shall give you a particular description of this incomparable piece of furniture. It represents, in four beautifully carved male figures, executed after the style of Gibbons, the periods of Youth, Manhood, Maturity, and Old Age, whilst other four (female) figures, beautifully brought up in good relief, are representative of the Passions. Here there was an opportunity for displaying some fine needlework; and Miss Kingsbury, a lady of the town, who has received from the hand of royalty a reward for her talents, has turned the opportunity to good account, and produced some appropriate work, displaying a skill truly astonishing. This is not the least attractive portion of the cabinet, and, as we shall again, have to advert to it in its order, we leave it for the present. The carved figure of the Youth represents him at twenty years of age. The countenance is finely wrought, and marks the innocency and candor of the young heart; the open brow, the love-lighted eye, all exemplifying characteristics of that period of life, untrammelled with care or anxious thought. In his hair, well brought out from the solid wood, is intertwined the violet, the primrose, and the cow-slip, emblematical of the season—being the spring time of life. In the right hand of the figure is attached a portion of a festoon of carved flowers, which connects it with the other four figures. The left hand is extended, pointing to Manhood. This figure denotes the period when forty summers have ripened the man, and brought the noblest work of God to that stage of his more powerful intellect, his keener judgment, stronger frame, and more lasting energy. These characteristics are most admirably depicted. In his locks are carved the rose, the lily, the pink, and the carnation, the strawberry and the gooseberry—emblematical of the summer time of life. In the right hand the figure receives the festoon of flowers from Youth, and in the left it supports the frame of the cabinet. The festoon is carried on to Maturity, which represents the time when sixty years bring him to the period of decline. Its right hand assists, with the left of that of Manhood, in supporting the cabinet. Encircling his brow are corn ears and wine cups, together with barley, wheat, grapes, and hops, the whole of which are most elaborately and finely chiselled. The hand of Maturity points downward to Old Age. The furrowed brow, the sunken cheek, the dim and glassy eye observable in this figure, conveys the mournful intelligence that the sand of life is fast approaching its last little grain. The bent form and the thoughtful brow tell that Time, the consumer of all things, has also ravaged a once erect and powerful frame. The contemplation of this figure, beautifully executed as it is, intuitively inculcates a serious consideration of the value and blessings of a temperate; and well-spent life; it induces a thoughtful reflection that a life of goodness alone insures an end of peace. The holly, the mistletoe, the ivy, the acorn shell, the leafless branch, and the fruitless vine encircle the brow-fit emblems of the period which marks an exchange of time for eternity. All the figures are rendered complete by a carved lion's foot, at the bottom of each, and above the feet is a connecting frame, to make that portion of the stand perfect. Between the figures of Spring and Summer are carved flowers and fruit in great profusion, emblematical of the seasons, and forming a fine piece of work; it represents the all-important fact that time flies, by an hourglass borne on the wings of a splendidly-carved eagle, and suspending from the bird's beak are the letters, curiously wrought, forming Tempus Fugit. This rests on a globe, representative of the earth, which is half sunk in a shell of water, overflowing the wheel of time, and shedding on fruit and flowers its refreshing dew. The space between the figures of Autumn and Winter is filled with carvings of the chrysanthemum, holly, ivy, and autumn fruit, intertwined with consummate skill and taste. The garland, or festoon, which is carried through, and sustained, as before stated, by each of the four figures, is composed of every flower indigenous to this part of the land, and introduced emblematically to the time in which they severally bloom.

Above the figures, and resting on their heads, is a stand or frame to receive the top part, containing the drawers, doors, &c., and is constructed in a peculiar manner on the bevel, that the eye may easily rest on some beautiful lines from Thomson's Seasons. Over the head of Youth, in this frame, is a basket of strawberries, cherries, raspberries, and early fruit, surrounded with leaf work, enclosing a panel of needlework, covered with bent plate glass, and the motto,—

"——— Chief, lovely Spring,
In these and thy soft scenes the smiling God is seen."

Then follows the carved figure representing Summer. Over the head of it is a basket, containing currants, strawberries, gooseberries, apples, pears, peaches, and other fruits, enriched with leaf work, the lily and the rose completing the centre. Between the Summer and Autumn baskets and a panel are the following mottoes, each season having one:—

"Child of the sun! refulgent Summer comes,
In pride of youth;
While Autumn, nodding o'or the yellow plain,
Comes jovial on."

Then follows the Autumn basket, containing grapes, pears, filberts, &c., surrounded with leaf work. The panel of needlework next appears for Winter, with these lines:—

"See! Winter comes to rule the varied year,
Sullen and sad;"

and over the head of the Winter figure is placed a basket of walnuts, medlars, &c. Here is the frame of the cabinet, which contains about eighty drawers in fine walnut wood, enriched with fuschia drops in silver, and coral beads for drop handles; the wood work is relieved with silvered plate glass; also small doors with plate glass for needlework, in wild flowers. This completes the interior of the frame.

The exterior represents three carved doors, in fine relief: over Spring and Summer is the convolvulus, entwined round the frame; then follows the centre door, in fine relief—the grape vine, full of fruit, being very prominent. The door over Autumn and Winter is enriched with carvings of barley and hop vine. Between each of these doors are pilasters, forming four female figures, holding in their hands the emblems of the seasons, and a newly-invented glass dome head, in an elegant form, for the protection of knitted flowers in Berlin wool. The wood work is tastefully arranged, springing from each group of flowers over the heads of the female figures, with mouldings to receive the bent plate glass, and is enriched with fine carvings of fruit and flowers. At the extreme top of this glass dome stands a beautiful figure of Peace, with extended wings, bending over the globe, holding in one hand the olive branch, and with the other pointing to the Deity.

Having thus given a description of the carvings of this splendid cabinet, let me turn your attention to the enrichments in needlework, worked on black velvet, from nature, by Miss Kingsbury. The mottoes in frame for the different seasons are worked in floss silk of various colors; the inside doors—five in number—with wild flowers; and in front are rich specimens of raised embroidery, extending to the inside, and protected with plate glass. Miss Kingsbury is a young lady of Taunton, who has made this kind of work her peculiar forte.

Above the doors, also, are knitted flowers in Berlin wools, which fill the dome head, and are protected with bent plate glass. Almost every flower, as they bloom, are to be distinguished in these rich bouquets, with which the honeysuckle and passion flower are beautifully entwined.

Now, what think you of such a cabinet as this? Well, Charley, there are scores and scores of objects as much deserving a full description as this.

The department of machinery and steam power is entirely beyond my ability to speak of in proper terms. I have little mechanical genius, and I never am more out of my element than When surrounded by fly wheels, cylinders, and walking beams.

If our friend Ike had been here, lie would have been perfectly at home; and his pleasure and profit in this department would have surpassed any I could experience. I have only glanced at a few of the wonderful things in this wonderful place, and yet I have far exceeded the bounds of an ordinary letter.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 17.


Dear Charley:—

One evening this week we spent very pleasantly at the Royal Polytechnic Institution for the advancement of the arts and sciences in connection with agriculture and manufactures. There is a large theatre, where all sorts of lectures are delivered, at various hours, upon philosophical and other subjects. Lecturers occupy the theatre in succession, and take up about half an hour. These are generally men of respectable abilities. The building is full of curiosities. We saw the model of the human ear, about one hundred and forty times larger than the natural organ. We saw a diving bell in the great hall, which is frequently put into action, and visitors are allowed to descend. That evening several made the experiment. The interior of the bell is lighted by thick plate glass. A very large number of models are to be seen, and there is much to interest the spectator. We heard a fine lecture respecting the experiment of Foucault, by which the diurnal rotation of the earth is said to be rendered visible to the eye. Foucault is a young Parisian, who, whilst engaged in some investigations with a pendulum in his mother's cellar, made this discovery, as he claims it to be. We saw the experiment repeated here on the same scale as it has recently been shown at the Pantheon at Paris. A brass sphere, weighing about five pounds, was suspended from the lofty ceiling by a piece of music wire, and made to vibrate in one plane over a table graduated into degrees. After a few vibrations, the direction of the pendulum appeared to be changed, as though the table had moved round on its owns axis.

We passed an hour at the Egyptian Hall to see the opening of the American Panorama of the Overland Route to California. It bids fair to make a hit in London. Last Sunday, "great exhibition" sermons were abundant in London. Exeter Hal, the largest place in London, holding about five thousand persons, is to be used for three months for the performance of divine service, to accommodate the strangers who crowd the city. We all went, Sunday evening, and heard the Rev. Thomas Binney, who has quite a reputation. The hall was as full as it could be, but we did not think the discourse as good as it might be. It was rather declamatory.

You no doubt remember how much our curiosity was excited by hearing that Mr. Wyld was about to place a model of the globe, of gigantic dimensions, in the great exhibition. Well, he was unable to obtain the space required, and so he has erected a spacious building in Leicester Square. This building is circular, with projecting entrances at the four cardinal points of the compass. From the centre rises a graceful dome. Here is placed the model of the earth, fifty-six feet in diameter. The scale is about ten miles to an inch. The arrangement before used in the construction of globes is reversed in this case, and the continents, islands, and seas are seen on the inner surface. This seems like turning the world, not upside down, but inside out. The mountains and land are elevated to a scale. The spectators travel round the globe on winding staircases, at the distance of a few feet from the surface. I went the other morning to the model, but was far less interested than I expected. The rest of the party were not present, and are willing to take my report. I heard that Mr. Wyld has spent twelve thousand pounds upon his undertaking.

We selected a fine afternoon to visit the Zoölogical Gardens in the Regent's Park, and, of course, had a treat. I did not think much of the gardens as far as the horticulture was concerned; but the collection of animals was far beyond any thing I had before witnessed. There are more than sixteen hundred specimens. The animals are finely housed, and their habits consulted in the arrangements of their homes. We had the pleasure to see the young elephant, only six months old, which had just been received. It was about the size of a donkey. A hippopotamus had recently been added to the collection, and we were sadly vexed not to see it. It was shut up at six o'clock, just as we reached its house. George had his luck, and obtained a glimpse of the retiring quadruped. We have been greatly amused with the sight of hundreds of boys about town, dressed in blue gowns, or long coats with belts, short knee breeches, yellow stockings, and shoes with tackles, but wear no caps or hats. In all weathers they are bareheaded. I find that they are the boys belonging to Christ's Hospital, a school founded by Edward VI., in 1553, and generally known in London as the Blue Coat School. The scholars generally range from one thousand to twelve hundred. The education, is said to be of the best character, and many of the boys belong to families of high respectability, and it is quite a matter of desire to obtain scholarship here. They look very funny in their old-fashioned rig. Each boy wears bands like a clergyman. The school is in Newgate Street, and is a fine modern edifice in the Tudor style. The front is flanked by towers, and has eight noble windows, which are separated by buttresses. Over one of the galleries of the hall is a fine picture, by Holbein, of Edward VI. granting the charter to the Hospital, as it was then called. Some of the best scholars of England were educated here; and we remembered particularly Coleridge and our special favorite, Charles Lamb.

To-morrow we are to have a treat of the highest kind. We are to spend the day at Windsor. I feel pretty well acquainted with its history and associations, but I shall spend the evening with George in brushing up my information. There is nothing more unpleasant than to find yourself in the presence of things and places of which you painfully feel an entire ignorance. If ever we meet again, how much we shall have to chat over on our favorite topics!

Yours always,


Letter 18.


Dear Charley:—

It was a fine, clear morning when we started for Windsor by railroad, a distance of twenty-one miles. The country is fine; but our thoughts were on the castle. At Slough we took an omnibus, and rode into the town. It is a pretty, quiet place, of about ten thousand inhabitants. There are some six or seven streets, and they present but few attractions. The castle is every thing. You know this has been the favorite residence of most of the English monarchs, and the scene of many a tournament in the days of chivalry. The castle was the work of William the Conqueror. John lived at Windsor while Magna Charta was extorted from him by his barons at Runnymede. Henry III. did a great deal to the castle, but Edward III. invested it with its great glory. This was his native place. The architect he employed was the famous William of Wykeham, Bishop of Winchester, a man of great genius. He built the noble round tower. This was in 1315. Wykeham built him a palace worthy of the hero and his noble son, the Black Prince. Edward IV. built St. George's Chapel, and Henry VII. and Henry VIII. both made important additions to the fortress. Young Edward VI. resided here, and did not like its retirement and gloom. Elizabeth made the terrace and other improvements. When Charles II. was restored, he brought a foreign taste to the improvement of the castle, and a great deal of elegancy was attempted, but which poorly harmonized with the Gothic, baronial style of Wykeham's works.

George IV. was a man of exquisite taste, and he employed Sir Jeffry Wyatville to carry out the plans of Edward III. and his architect. This was in 1824, and his immense labors have been successful. These improvements cost two million pounds sterling. I ought to say that Windsor Castle was the favorite home of George III., who died here. This palace stands on a lofty chalk hill, and commands the valley of the Thames. Around it is the finest, terrace in the world, the descent from which is faced with a rampart of freestone extending about seventeen hundred feet. The whole building occupies about twelve acres.

I shall not describe all the towers, for there are some dozen or fifteen. The round tower of Edward III. is the chief one. Here he revived the round table of King Arthur, and established the Order of the Garter. From the battlements of this strong fortress you gaze upon no less than twelve counties. Prince Albert is constable of this tower. This was the old prison, or donjon of the castle. Here James I. of Scotland was a prisoner, and here he wrote his sweet verses and celebrated Nature's beauties and the praises of his lady-love, Jane Beaufort. Here, too, Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, long suffered, and sung the sweetest lays. We had a ticket to see the state apartments. Suffice it to say that we went through the Queen's Audience Chamber, the Vandyke Room, the Queen's State Drawing Boom or Zuccharelle Room, the State Ante-Room, the Grand Staircase and Vestibule, the Waterloo Chamber, the Grand Ball Room, St. George's Hall, the Guard Chamber, the Queen's Presence Chamber. All these are very, very beautiful. I was delighted with the Vandyke Room. Here are twenty-two undoubted productions of this greatest of portrait painters. Charles I. and Henrietta were favorite subjects with the artist. Here are several of them and their children, and they are to be found elsewhere. The equestrian portrait of Charles I. is a truly grand picture. You know the beautiful old copy, of a cabinet size, which we have in the study at home: it will please me more than ever, since I know how faithful it is. That queen of Charles's who made him so much trouble with her Popery and temper was a wonderfully beautiful woman. I should not soon be weary looking at her portrait. She was daughter of Henry IV. of France. Her fortune was hard, to lose a father by an assassin, and a husband by the executioner. The Gobelin tapestry, illustrating the life of Esther, in the Audience Room, is very rich. In the State Ante-Room are the most wonderful carvings of fowl, fish, fruit, and flowers, by Grinling Gibbons. They are thought to be unsurpassed in this department of art. On the Great Staircase is a noble colossal marble statue, of that excellent sovereign, but bad man, George IV. It is by Chantrey. The Waterloo Chamber is adorned with thirty-eight portraits of men connected with Waterloo, and twenty-nine of them are by Sir Thomas Lawrence. St. George's Hall is two hundred feet long, thirty-four wide, thirty-two high, and contains some fine portraits of sovereigns by Vandyke, Lely, Kneller, Gainsborough, and Lawrence. On twenty-four shields are the arms of each sovereign of the Order of the Garter, from Edward III. to William IV. The Guard Chamber is a noble room, eighty feet in length. Immediately on entering, we were struck with the colossal bust of Nelson by Chantrey, A piece of the mast of the Victory, shot through by a cannon ball, forms its fitting pedestal. Here, too, we saw the busts of the great Duke of Marlborough by Rysbach, and the Duke of Wellington by Chantrey, and their two banners, by the annual presentation of which to the reigning sovereign, on the anniversaries of Blenheim and Waterloo, they hold the estates of Blenheim and Strathfieldsaye. There are figures in armor representing the Duke of Brunswick, 1530; Lord Howard, 1588; Earl of Essex, 1596; Charles I., when Prince of Wales, 1620; and Prince Rupert, 1635. These suits of armor are the genuine ones which were worn by these characters in their lifetime. One thing greatly delighted me—it was the gorgeous shield, executed by Benvenuto Cellini, and presented by Francis I. to Henry VIII. at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. The workmanship is entirely beyond anything I had imagined possible for delicacy of finish. I hardly wonder that kings used to quarrel for the residence of this artist.

I know, Charley, you are impatient to hear about St. George's Chapel, of which you have so often expressed your admiration, when we have looked at the beautiful engravings of its interior, at home. It is very fine, and should be seen to be comprehended. It is of what is called the perpendicular Gothic style. The interior is divided by a screen and organ gallery, into the body of the church, and the choir. These have side aisles, and in these are five separate little chapels. Two of these make up the place of transepts, and the other three, and the chapter house, form abutments at each angle of the chapel. Now, I think, you can't fail to get an idea of the building.

The choir is filled with the stalls and banners of the knights of the garter. Each knight has his banner, helmet, crest, and sword.

The great pointed window was designed by our countryman, Benjamin West. The altar-piece was painted by West. Here is the tomb of Edward IV., 1483. He lies under a slab of black marble. In 1789, some workmen discovered his lead coffin, and it was opened, and the skeleton was in good preservation, and measured seven feet in length. Horace Walpole obtained a lock of his hair at this time. Here are the graves of Henry VI., and of Henry VIII. and his queen, Jane Seymour. Also of Charles I.

Lord Byron says of Henry VIII.'s tomb,

"Famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties,
By headless Charles, see heartless Henry lies"

On the 1st of April, 1813, the coffin of Charles I. was found in Henry VIII.'s tomb; and I think you will be pleased with an account of what, transpired. I shall, therefore, copy a paper which is authentic:

"On completing the mausoleum which his present majesty has built in the Tomb House, as it is called, it was necessary to form a passage to it from under the choir of St George's Chapel. In constructing this passage, an aperture was made accidentally, in one of the walls of the vault of King Henry VIII., through which the workmen were enabled to see, not only the two coffins which were supposed to contain the bodies of King Henry VIII. and Queen Jane Seymour, but a third also, covered with a black velvet pall, which, from Mr. Herbert's narrative, might fairly be presumed to hold the remains of King Charles I.

"On representing the circumstance to the Prince Regent, his Royal Highness perceived at once that a doubtful point in history might be cleared up by opening this vault; and, accordingly, his Royal Highness ordered an examination to be made on the first convenient opportunity. This was done on the 1st of April last, 1813,—the day after the funeral of the Duchess of Brunswick,—in the presence of his Royal Highness himself; who guarantied, thereby, the most respectful care and attention to the remains of the dead during the inquiry. His Royal Highness was accompanied by his Royal Highness the Duke of Cumberland, Count Munster, the Dean of Windsor, Benjamin Charles Stevenson, Esq., and Sir Henry Halford.

"The vault is covered by an arch half a breadth in thickness; is seven feet two inches in width, nine feet six inches in length, and four feet ten inches in height, and is situated in the centre of the choir, opposite the eleventh knight's stall, on the sovereign's side.

"On removing the pall, a plain leaden coffin, with no appearance of ever having been enclosed in wood, and bearing an inscription, 'King Charles, 1648,' in large, legible characters, on a scroll of lead encircling it, immediately presented itself to the view. A square opening was then made in the upper part of the lid, of such dimensions as to admit a clear insight into its contents. These were an internal wooden coffin, very much decayed, and the body carefully wrapped up in cerecloth, into the folds of which a quantity of unctuous or greasy matter, mixed with resin, as it seemed, had been melted, so as to exclude, as effectually as possible, the external air. The coffin was completely full, and, from-the tenacity of the cerecloth, great difficulty was experienced in detaching it successfully from the parts which it developed. Wherever the unctuous matter had insinuated itself, the separation of the cerecloth was easy; and when it came off, a correct impression of the features to which it had been applied was observed in the unctuous substance. At length the whole face was disengaged from its covering. The complexion of the skin of it was dark and discolored. The forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of their muscular substance. The cartilage of the nose was gone, but the left eye, in the first moment of exposure, was open and full, though it vanished almost immediately; and the pointed beard, so characteristic of the reign of King Charles, was perfect The shape of the face was a long oval. Many of the teeth remained, and the left ear, in consequence of the interposition of some unctuous matter between it and the cerecloth, was found entire. It was difficult at this moment to withhold a declaration, that, notwithstanding its disfigurement, the countenance did bear a strong resemblance to the coins, the busts, and especially to the picture of King Charles I. by Vandyke, by which it had been made familiar to us. It is true that the minds of the spectators of this interesting sight were well prepared to receive this impression; but it is also certain that such a facility of belief had been occasioned by the simplicity and truth of Mr. Herbert's narrative, every part of which had been confirmed by the investigation, so far as it had advanced; and it will not be denied that the shape of the face, the forehead, an eye, and the beard, are the most important features by which resemblance is determined. When the head had been entirely disengaged from the attachments which confined it; it was found to be loose, and without any difficulty was taken up and held to view. It was quite wet, and gave a greenish-red tinge to paper and linen which touched it. The back part of the scalp was entirely perfect, and had a remarkably fresh appearance—the pores of the skin being more distinct, as they usually are when soaked in moisture, and the tendons and ligaments of the neck were of considerable substance and firmness. The hair was thick at the back part of the head, and, in appearance, nearly black. A portion of it, which has since been cleaned and dried, is of a beautiful dark-brown color. That of the beard was of a redder brown. On the back part of the head it was about an inch in length, and had probably been cut so short for the convenience of the executioner, or, perhaps, in order to furnish memorials of the unhappy king. On holding up the head to examine the place of separation from the body, the muscles of the neck had evidently retracted themselves considerably, and the fourth cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its substance transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided portions perfectly smooth and even; an appearance which could only have been produced by a heavy blow, inflicted with a very sharp instrument, and which furnished the last proof wanting to identify Charles I. After this examination, which served every purpose in view, and without examining the body below the neck; it was immediately restored to its situation, the coffin was soldered up again, and the vault closed."

This state of things precisely tallied with the account which Herbert, the faithful servant of Charles, had given as to the place of his sepulture.

In this chapel, too, is the cenotaph of the late Princess Charlotte, who was wife to Leopold, now King of Belgium. I do not much admire it.

The exquisite beauty of the windows, and the gorgeous splendor of the roof, will always make this place live in my memory. The terraces are very beautiful walks; and from Queen Elizabeth's terrace you have a noble view of Eton College. Of course, we were pleased to see "the distant spires and antique towers" which are so celebrated in the lines of Gray. The college looms up finely, and greatly adds to the prospect. Eton was founded in 1440, by Henry VI. The number of scholars is about eight hundred and fifty. This college has produced some of the greatest men in England, and the young nobility are generally educated here. The college has two quadrangles, and the chapel is a fine Gothic building. All this region is beautified by the Thames winding through the valley. Here is the gem of villages, Datchett, where Sir Henry Wotton and Izaak Walton used to enjoy the rod and line. No one who has any taste can come to Windsor and not think of the immortal bard who has made so much capital out of this place. At all events, we wanted to see Herne's Oak.

We took a carriage and passed the day in riding through the great park, and took our way through the well-known avenue, called the Long Walk. This is three miles in length, and has a double row of magnificent elms. It is directly in front of the south side of the castle, and terminates in a colossal equestrian statue of George III., standing on an immense pedestal of blocks of granite. Nothing can exceed in beauty the beeches of this park, which contains three thousand acres. Immense herds of deer are seen under the trees. Nowhere have I seen such fine old trees. Here is a beech-tree thirty-six feet round, seven feet from the ground! One oak of similar size is called William the Conqueror's Oak. We went to Virginia Water, the largest sheet of water—that is, artificial—in Great Britain. We saw the little cottage where George IV. passed so much of his time. It is a pretty place, but it only shows that the mind is more likely to be pleased with the simple than the grand.

The gardener at the cottage—which I think is called Cumberland Lodge—showed us through the conservatory. We did not much admire the Fishing Temple, or the floating miniature navy. The scenery is charming, and worthy of Poussin. The walk by the water, to the tavern, cannot be surpassed. On our return we passed Frogmore, the residence of the Duchess of Kent; it seems a pretty, unpretending place.

Nothing would repay the tourist better than to pass three or four days, in this vicinity. Village after village, and villa after villa, claims the admiration of the traveller; and perhaps England has no more beautiful rural scenery than may here be found. We had seven or eight hours of perfect delight upon our ride; and when we reached the White Hart, at Windsor, we were well prepared for doing justice to an excellent dinner. Our pleasure at Windsor was much increased by the company of a gentleman of high literary reputation, and who is distinguished as the author of several successful works.

Affectionately yours,


Letter 19.


Dear Charley:—

We are just returned from a most pleasant visit to Sir John Soane's Museum. This gentleman was an architect, and a most determined antiquary; and when he died he left his wonderful collection to the nation, having obtained an act of Parliament for preserving it and endowing its maintenance. We obtained a government order, and went to the house which was Sir John's private residence, in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Never did I behold such a sight. The house is spacious, but every nook and corner—and it is full of unimaginable ones—is filled up with precious matters. Here are Roman and Grecian relics; fragments of vases from Herculaneum; and the far-famed Egyptian sarcophagus brought over by Belzoni. The latter is made of one piece of alabaster, nearly ten feet long. It is inscribed all over with hieroglyphics, and cost Sir John a large sum. I shall see nothing in all Europe that will take my fancy as much as this museum, I am sure. There are twenty-five distinct apartments; and if you can find a square foot in the house not occupied, you would do more than I was able to. The catalogue of this museum I shall value highly, and that will give you a better idea than I can of its contents. I had no common pleasure in finding here the original paintings of the Rake's Progress, by Hogarth, the engravings of which we have so admired. These pictures were painted in 1734, and were bought by Sir J. Soane, in 1802, for five hundred and seventy guineas. And here, too, are Hogarth's great paintings of the Election—a series of four pictures. These unrivalled works of comic art were bought of Garrick's widow by Soane, in 1823, for sixteen hundred and fifty guineas! The collection of paintings is by no means despicable, and we saw a few pictures not soon to be forgotten. The Views of Venice, by Canaletti, are very fine; and there are some gems by Reynolds, Danby, Turner, Hamilton, Lawrence, and Bird. I must tell you how they have economized room in the apartment devoted to pictures. The ceiling is very richly adorned with ornaments, forming arched canopies. On the north and west sides of this room are cabinets, and on the south are movable planes, with space between for pictures. So, in a room of thirteen feet eight inches by twelve feet four inches, there are as many pictures as could be placed on the walls of a gallery of the same height, forty-five feet long and twenty broad. In the crypt is an ancient tomb, and models, in cork, of tombs, at Capua.

There are some precious souvenirs of Napoleon to be seen,—as portraits, miniatures, pistols, &c.,—a fine collection of painted glass, and a countless lot of antiques, intaglios, autographs, and watches. If ever you find yourself in London, I charge you, get to this same place for a long morning. In the afternoon we took steamer and Went to Greenwich, five miles from town, to see the Hospital for Seamen. Charles II. built this place for a royal palace,—and a noble one it is,—but William and Mary gave it up to the use of old and worn-out seamen; and as England owes every thing to Jack Tar, it seems fit that, when old and crazy, his last days should be made comfortable. A very large income arises from the exhibition of the fine picture gallery here to be seen. Here is quite enough to please any one who is curious, and to gratify boys amazingly; and this you will credit when I tell you some things that we saw. The coat and waistcoat worn by Nelson when he was killed, on the Victory, at Trafalgar; models of celebrated ships; original painting of Sir Walter Raleigh; Sir Cloudesley Shovel, who was lost, with all his crew, on the Scilly Islands, in Queen Anne's reign; Admiral Kempenfeldt, lost in the Royal George, 1782; Lord Nelson; Lord Collingwood; and almost all the great naval commanders of Great Britain. Then, too, there are large paintings of the great sea fights. One of Trafalgar, by Turner, is very fine, and so is a large one of Nelson's death.

There is a room besides all I have alluded to, called the Nelson Room, and which illustrates all his history; and there are, all about the rooms, some exquisitely fine colossal busts, executed by Flaxman, Bailey, and Westmacott. The chapel is thought to be one of the most beautiful in England. The entire of this great national glory is kept in the cleanest manner; and the only thing to complain of is a want of politeness in the guides. This is in contrast to other places; for we have found the guides very kind and civil at all other places. We have recently visited the Queen's stables, by order from Mr. Lawrence. Every thing was very clean and spacious. Some of the horses were exceedingly beautiful. The harness-room made a display. The cream-colored horses belonging to the state carriage are noble animals. I believe they are brought from Hanover, or came originally thence. The state carriage is an immense lumbering affair, made of carvings and gold. It must be of great weight. The sides are richly painted. It is never used but at the opening of Parliament and similar occasions. The queen's carriages which are ordinarily used are numerous and very elegant, but in good taste. One of our number—you may guess who it was—sadly wanted a hair from the tail of the queen's favorite riding horse. The riding school is spacious, but not much better than a private one that we know in New York.

We took dinner one day at Soyer's Symposium, at Gore House. Soyer is the great master of ceremonies in London for all matters of the cuisine. Gore House was once the home of Wilberforce and Lord Rodney, but is better known as the residence of the late Countess of Blessington. It is now a hotel. The grounds are extensive, and the trees are some of the finest around London, and I have never seen a lovelier spot of the same size. It is alive with blackbirds, thrushes, linnets, and goldfinches. As you enter, you find a vestibule, which is called the cupola of Jupiter Tonans. Through this you pass to "the hall of architectural wonders," then to "the Blessington Temple of the Muses." This apartment leads to "the Transatlantic Ante-Chamber," which is adorned with all sorts of American emblems. Then there are, in succession, "the Alcove of White Roses," "the Birth of Gems," and other rooms of great gorgeousness. One room is the "Palace of the North," which is apparently made entirely of ice, and out of the wall of which is issuing a polar bear. In the pleasure grounds is a "baronial hall," one hundred feet long, fifty broad, and thirty high; and besides this an enormous tent, called "the Encampment for all Nations." Here, at a table four hundred feet long, fifteen hundred persons can be dined at a cheap rate. A table-cloth for this affair cost Soyer two hundred pounds sterling. We had a very pleasant dinner with the Rev. Dr. Harris, President of New College, whose works are so well known in America. The room we occupied was "the Alcove of White Roses." The Symposium stands near to the Crystal Palace, and accommodates the strangers admirably. That dinner was two days ago, however; and I am reminded that another is necessary today, and must leave off to prepare for it.

I am yours truly,


Letter 20.


Dear Charley:—

Yesterday we visited the two great ecclesiastical edifices of the metropolis,—St. Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey,—and I will endeavor to convey to your mind some idea of the impression which they left upon my own. These structures are by name familiar to you, and you have seen engravings of the mighty dome of St. Paul's and the double towers of the Abbey. I had often gazed on these pictured representations, but I find that they did not convey to my mind any adequate notions of the originals. Like the Pyramids, or our own Niagara, they must be seen to be understood. In so vast a place as London, it is absolutely necessary for sight-seers to adopt something like system in their arrangements; so we agreed to devote one day to the examination of the metropolitan Cathedral Church, and of the ancient edifice in which the monarchs of England are crowned. We quitted our hotel at nine o'clock, and, pushing our way through the hurrying crowds of the Strand, speedily arrived at Temple Bar. We then turned down a dingy, narrow passage, on our right hand; this led us to the Temple, which is like a little town of itself, and is almost exclusively inhabited by lawyers. It was amusing enough to notice the gentlemen in powdered horse-hair wigs and flowing black robes, like a clergyman's, who every now and then emerged from some open door, and flitted across the courts, each having a bundle of papers tied with red tape, or a book under his arm. Whilst occupied in observing these Templars of modern times, the tones of an organ fell on my ear, for we were close to the Temple Church, one of the most beautiful sanctuaries in the world. The early morning service was not concluded so we entered without ceremony. Externally, the building has little in the way of architectural decorations to recommend it. It is low, destitute of tower or steeple, and surrounded by gloomy-looking lawyers' offices. But no sooner had we crossed the threshold than a scene of surpassing beauty burst upon us. I should here tell you that this edifice, which is intended for the exclusive use of members of the Temple, is very ancient. The church formerly belonged to the Knights Templars. It was built in 1185, and the choir was added in 1240. For years and years the building was neglected by the legal gentlemen; but in 1839 it was proposed to restore the former glories of the place, and the outlay of seventy thousand pounds has caused it to stand out in all its pristine beauty. The form of the church is octagonal. The ceiling, sides, and altar are all decorated in the mediæval style. The pipes of the organ dazzle you with their purple and golden splendors. The floor is of encaustic tiles. On the walls are displayed the names and coats of arms of those members of the Temple who have been raised to the dignity of judges. On all these objects the sunshine, streaming through superbly-painted windows, produced quite a kaleidoscope effect. The coup d'œil was almost too dazzling, and strikingly contrasted in my mind with the primitive simplicity of our New England churches. In this church I found that some great men had been buried. The learned Sir John, Selden, the author of "Table Talk;" Howell, whose old letters we have so much enjoyed together; Gibbon the historian, and Oliver Goldsmith, lie just outside the church. The preacher of this church is called the master of the Temple, and the great Hooker once held this post. Having gratified our curiosity by an inspection of this gem of church architecture, we quitted the building, and, after a pleasant stroll through the Temple Gardens,—a sweet spot, and spoken of by Shakspeare as the place where the distinction of the Red and White Roses was first seen,—embarked on one of the river steamboats, which rapidly conveyed us to Blackfriars Bridge.

The finest view of St. Paul's Cathedral is, unquestionably, from the Thames. When seen from the streets, only portions of its colossal magnitude can be observed. On all sides it is hemmed in by houses, which, pygmies though they be, prevent an uninterrupted view of the architectural giant. But from the middle of the Thames, the cathedral is seen in all its glory; towering above the surrounding marts of trade, it stands out the grand point of attraction.

St. Paul's Cathedral. St. Paul's Cathedral.

Here may be observed, to advantage, the surpassing beauty of the great dome, which dwarfs the towers and steeples of the surrounding churches almost into nothingness. The general aspect of the cathedral is said to resemble St. Peter's, at Rome, but the symmetry of the dome of the latter is acknowledged to be less beautiful than that of its London rival.

We landed at Blackfriars Bridge Stairs; and, after ascending Ludgate Hill, arrived at the great northern door of the cathedral. In reply to the rap of our knuckles at the huge portals, it slowly swung back on its hinges, and a grim, surly-looking face appeared. The figure which belonged to the face was clad in a rusty and seedy black robe, from beneath which a hand was thrust forth, and the words, "two-pence each," sounded harshly on our ears. Two-pence each was accordingly paid, and then the surly janitor, or verger, as he is called, admitted us within the building. In a moment afterwards, we were beneath the dome of St. Paul's. If this part of the edifice has appeared imposing when viewed from without, how much grander did it seem now that we stood on the marble pavement below, and gazed upward into the vast concave which the genius of Sir Christopher Wren had designed. The scene to my mind was most impressive, and the impressiveness was heightened by a continuous dull roar, which never ceased for a moment. This ceaseless noise was produced by the numerous carriages passing and repassing without. The concavity of the dome, I suppose, condensed the sound into a subdued thunder, like that which one hears at a short distance from the Falls of Niagara. Against the huge pillars, and in various niches, were the statues of eminent men; some of them erected by the nation, as a commemoration of naval or military services, and others as tributes to great personal worth, or to public benefactors. Among the statues of the men of peace, that of Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great lexicographer, particularly interested me. The celebrated moralist is represented seated. One hand holds a scroll, the other rests upon a pedestal. The likeness is said to be well preserved. The sculptor was Bacon. There was the capacious forehead, the thick bushy eyebrows, the large mouth, the double chin, the clumsy person, and the thick, ungainly legs, which had been rendered familiar to me through the portraits which I had seen in the Johnsonia. As I gazed on that marble tribute to genius and worth, I could not but remember, Charley, how Johnson had frequently walked the streets of London all night, because he had not the wherewithal to pay for a lodging. Near to Johnson's monument was that of Howard the philanthropist. We noticed a very fine one to Sir Joshua Reynolds; also statues to Bishop Heber, Abercrombie, Cornwallis, Sir John Moore, Sir Astley Cooper, Sir Thomas Lawrence, and Benjamin West.

Dr. Samuel Johnson Dr. Samuel Johnson.

But the greatest attraction of St. Paul's is the sarcophagus, in which repose the remains of England's greatest naval hero, Lord Nelson. Situated immediately beneath the centre of the great dome is a diamond-shaped tablet, which marks the spot beneath which rests, after his career of glory, the hero of the Nile and Trafalgar. His body rests in a sarcophagus in the vaults below. Exactly beneath the tablet lies the huge coffin, with the name "NELSON" engraven on its side. No epitaph, no labored panegyric, no fulsome praise; and Englishmen, I think, were right in supposing that the simple name of their hero was enough for fame. This sarcophagus was made by Cardinal Wolsey; and here Nelson was placed, in a coffin made out of the mainmast of the French ship, L'Orient.

The grim verger recommended us to ascend to the dome, and, after paying fresh fees, we mounted an enormously long and steep-winding staircase, which led us to the base of the dome. Here was a circular gallery, surrounded with a railing. Scarcely had we entered this gallery, when the attendant purposely slammed the entrance door, and immediately a loud peal, as of thunder, reverberated through the vast building; then he requested us to listen whilst he whispered against the smooth wall directly opposite to us. The effect was startling; every word was as distinct as though the speaker's lips had been close to my ear. This is known as the Whispering Gallery, and is one of the great lions of the place.

We now prepared to ascend still higher, and, after a tedious journey, arrived at the gilded gallery, which surmounts the dome. From hence we enjoyed a magnificent view of London, for, fortunately, the atmosphere was comparatively clear, and the everlasting canopy of smoke which overhangs London was not so dense as usual. Spread out before us lay the great wilderness of brick and mortar, through which the shining Thames, like a huge snake, pursued its sinuous course, spanned at intervals by bridges, and bearing, on its broad bosom the gathered treasures of many a far-distant nation. The streets, diminished to mere lanes, looked alive with Lilliputians; miniature horses and carriages appeared like so many German automaton toys which had been wound up and set a-going. Far away to the westward patches of green, studded with trees, denoted the parks, in one of which glittered the glass roof and sides of the Crystal Palace; and still more remote were glimpses of the free, fresh, open country, along which, at intervals, would rush railway trains, bearing hundreds of passengers to various parts of England. Above my head glittered, in the brilliant sunshine, the ball and cross which, at a height of four hundred and four feet, stands proudly over London, and may be seen from various parts of the metropolis. Another fee secured our passage to the interior of this globe of gilded copper, and which is about six feet in diameter, and will hold several persons. To reach it, I had to ascend a ladder and creep through an aperture at the bottom of the sphere. This was not worth the labor, but then we could say we had attained the highest point of the cathedral. I hear that ladies sometimes venture into the ball; if so, their timidity is insufficient to baffle their curiosity. This accomplished, we retraced our steps, and visited the portion of St. Paul's in which divine service is performed. About a dozen boys, dressed in white surplices, were chanting sweetly; a dull-looking clergyman read the service indifferently; and a score of poor people, with one or two well-dressed persons, formed the congregation. We then departed for Westminster Abbey, which must form the subject of another letter.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 21.


Dear Charley:—

What shall I tell you about Westminster Abbey? I hope I may be able to say enough to make you long to see it, and determine you to read all you can about it. By the way, I have satisfied myself that I can learn the best things about such places by carefully reading good histories and examining the best engravings. This abbey claims to have been built, in 616, by a Saxon king. It was enlarged by Edgar and Edward the Confessor, and was rebuilt as it now appears by Henry III. and Edward I. In this church all the sovereigns of England have been crowned, from Edward the Confessor down to Victoria; and not a few of them have been buried here. The architecture, excepting Henry VII.'s Chapel; is of the early English school. Henry's chapel is of the perpendicular Gothic. The western towers were built by Sir Christopher Wren.

We entered at the door leading to the Poet's Corner. We gazed with interest on the monuments of Chatham, Pitt, Fox, and Canning, Prince Rupert, Monk, Chaucer, Spenser, Beaumont, Fletcher, Ben Jonson, Cowley, Dryden, Dr. Watts, Addison, Gay, Sheridan, and Campbell. Here, too, are tablets to Barrow, South, Garrick, Handel, Clarendon, Bishop Atterbury, Sir Isaac Newton, and old Parr, who died at the age of one hundred and fifty-two.

Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey. Poets' Corner, Westminster Abbey.

The associations of this building are every thing to the stranger. I will just give you a list of names of the kings and queens buried here—Sebert, Edward the Confessor, Henry III., Edward I., Queen Eleanor, Edward III. and his queen, Philippa, Richard II. and his queen, Henry V., Henry VII. and his queen, Ann of Cleves, queen of Henry VIII., Edward VI., Bloody Mary, Mary, Queen of Scots, Queen Elizabeth, James I. and his queen, Queen of Bohemia, Charles II., William III. and Mary, Queen Anne, George II. and Queen Caroline.

We took the circuit of the chapels, beginning with St. Benedict. Here many eminent churchmen have been interred. The next is St. Edmond's, which contains twenty monuments; the monument of the Earl of Pembroke, brother of Henry III.; he died 1298. Here, too, are tombs of children of Edward II. and Edward III. I noticed a very fine brass monument, which represents a Duchess of Gloucester in her dress as a nun, dated 1399. There is, too, the effigy of the Duchess of Suffolk, mother of poor Lady Jane Grey. The third is St. Nicholas's Chapel, where is seen Lord Burleigh's monument. The fourth is the Virgin Mary's Chapel, called Henry VII.'s Chapel, and the ascent to which is by twelve or fourteen steps. This glorious room consists of a central aisle, with five small chapels and two side aisles. Here you see the stalls and banners of the Knights of the Bath, who were formerly installed in this chapel. The altar tomb of Henry VII. is truly beautiful; Lord Bacon said, "It is one of the costliest and daintiest tombs in Europe." Here are tombs of his mother, and the mother of Lord George Darnley, and Mary, Queen of Scots, and the Duke of Buckingham, Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Mary. Here, too, is a sarcophagus, which is supposed to contain the remains of Edward V. and the Duke of York, discovered in the Tower in the seventeenth century, in a box. Charles II., William and Mary, and Queen Anne are in a vault on the south aisle. George II. and his queen, Caroline, lie together, a side being taken out of each coffin. The fifth chapel is St. Paul's. The most striking object here is a colossal portrait statue of James Watt, the great steam-engine perfecter, if not inventor. This is by Chantrey, and cost six thousand pounds, and seems quite out of place. Archbishop Usher lies in this chapel. The sixth chapel, called Edward the Confessor's, pleased me greatly. In the centre is the shrine of the monarch saint; it is rich in mosaic adornments. The altar tomb of Henry III. is very grand, and there is a noble bronze statue of the king. Edward I. is here, and in 1774 his body was found almost entire. Edward III. and Philippa, his queen, have tombs. Here, too, was Henry V., the hero of Agincourt, Richard II. and queen. We were delighted with the two coronation chairs; in one is the old stone of Scone, on which the early Scotch kings used to be crowned. Edward I. carried it off, and it has ever since figured in English coronations. It is a large piece of red and gray sandstone, and claims to have been the veritable pillow on which Jacob slept. The seventh chapel is that of St. Erasmus, and leads to the eighth, which is John the Baptist's. Here rest the early abbots of the church. It contains a very fine monument to Lord Hunsdon, chamberlain to Queen Bess. Just outside, in the aisle, we found the noble monument to General Wolfe, and the celebrated work of Roubilliac in memory of Mrs. Nightingale, where death is seen throwing his dart at the wife, who falls into her husband's arms.

All over this noble abbey did we wander again and again in repeated visits, and admire the finest statuary we have ever seen. Roubilliac was a wonderful genius, and his monument to Sir Peter Warren is exquisite. The works of Bacon, Flaxman, Nollekins, Chantrey, and Westmacott have made me in love with statuary; and I long to see the great works which are to be seen on the continent.

Many of the tablets and statues are only honorary, as the persons commemorated were not buried here; as Shakspeare, Southey, Thomson, Goldsmith, Dr. Watts, &c. I could spend hours looking at Roubilliac's monument for the Duke of Argyle and his statue for Handel.

We attended divine service one Sunday afternoon, and heard a very fine sermon from Lord John Thynne. The abbey was crowded; the music the best I ever heard in a church; the preacher was quite eloquent; and Dr. C. observed that it was the most evangelical sermon he had heard in England. The subject was on justification by faith:

I may forget many things that I shall see on our travels, but I think that this abbey will never vanish from my recollection. I shall always remember the very position of these great works of art and genius; and I am more than repaid for all the labor of a voyage.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 22.


Dear Charley:—

No one comes to London without being told by every one to go and see the parks; so we have been to see these fine breathing places. Hyde Park is about four hundred acres, and has as many as half a dozen great entrances. Its position is high, and it is the great drive of the people of fashion. If you want to see London, you must come here on a fine summer day in June, at about four o'clock, and you will gaze on the finest and gayest equipages of England. A very pretty piece of water is in this park, which is called "the Serpentine River." The best skating of London is to be seen here, we are told, in hard winters. The entrance from Piccadilly is by a fine threefold arch. Here is the great Achilles of bronze, in honor of Wellington, made out of the cannon which the duke captured in Spain. St. James's and the Green Park: this is the oldest in London, and was made by Henry VIII. A fine arch affords entrance from Piccadilly, having a bronze colossal equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington. You get grand views of the Abbey towers, Buckingham Palace, the York Column, and other objects of interest. The two parks are about one hundred and fifty acres. Regent's Park is one of the most attractive spots in this great city. Here are villas of the finest kind. Some of the prettiest terraces and rows of houses about London are here to be seen. This park contains nearly five hundred acres, and, among other attractions, the Botanical and Zoölogical Gardens, and the Coliseum. Victoria Park, near Bethnal Green, is a new one, of about three hundred acres; but we did not visit it.

Besides these, there are more than thirty squares, some of which are very beautiful, and are finely planted and adorned. Belgrave Square is exceedingly rich in its appearance; the houses are built in the Corinthian order.

Northumberland House, at Charing Cross, is the city residence of the Duke of Northumberland. This, externally, has no great beauty, but is surmounted by the lion of the Percy family. It was built in 1605. This noble mansion has been politely opened by its proprietor to the visits of the foreigners who are here at the exhibition. It is a princely mansion; and, although we had recently been to Windsor, and seen the royal residence, yet we thought this palace home almost regal in its splendor. The staircase is splendid, and the apartments are very magnificent. The hall and drawing-rooms are quite equal, in decorations and paintings, to the rooms at Windsor. We were much pleased with two large pictures—a fox and deer hunt, by Snyders; but there were so many, that it is difficult to single out those we admired. There are some beautiful paintings of Napoleon, and exquisite carvings in ivory. In one of the saloons we were all struck with a large Sevres china vase, presented to the Duke of Northumberland by Charles X., at his coronation, at which occasion the duke was present as ambassador extraordinary, and made a most astonishing display of English wealth and liberality.

Sion House, near Brentford, is another palace belonging to the duke. This noble mansion is on the banks of the Thames, and is composed of freestone. It is very gorgeously furnished, and the hothouses and conservatories are not much, if any, inferior to Chatsworth. This mansion has also, been opened to visitors from abroad, and we received orders from the minister.

One of the sweetest features about the metropolis, to my taste, is the vast number of charming villages that surround it. Go where you may, you fall in with cottages, villas, and mansions, that convey to the mind the ideas of comfort, elegance, and wealth.

I find from Weld that he forgot to tell you that we went to St. Margaret's Church, which stands only a few yards off from Westminster Abbey. This is a very old building, and said to be of the days of Edward I. In this very building the celebrated fast-day sermons of the Long Parliament were preached, and I felt much interest in thinking how often Cromwell, Pym, Peters, and Harrison had worshipped God in that house. In this church, too, the Assembly of Divines worshipped, and also the Scotch commissioners, and took the covenant. This church boasts a painted window of exquisite beauty, which came as a present, from Holland, to Henry VII.; and the historical associations of this window are very curious, and well worth your reading about. The monuments of this sanctuary are far from being devoid of interest. I may name, among others, those to Caxton, Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir James Harrington, author of the great book, "Oceana," the wife of Milton, the mother of Cromwell, all of whom are here interred.

While I am speaking of churches, let me tell you that, close by our hotel, is a very fine one, that pleases me exceedingly. It is called St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, but is at present quite central as it regards the metropolis. I think the portico is to my eye equal to any piece of architecture in London. It was built in 1726. A church stood here for many centuries; and in 1680, Baxter said that forty thousand people of the parish could not get into the church; and he adds that they "lived like Americans, without hearing a sermon for many years." This church has an exquisite chime of bells, and they very much amused me every morning.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 23.


Dear Charley:—

I have not written you for some time. But today I have seen a number of things which I am sure you would be pleased with, and so I will tell you about them. Early in the morning we went to see the Mansion House. This is the dwelling-house of the lord mayor of London. It is a fine-looking building, but has a queer upper story, with small windows, which look badly, over the noble pillars and portico. The great room used for public occasions is the Egyptian Hall, for what reason does not appear from any thing about it. Here the lord mayor has his great feasts. I should like to be in London on the 9th of November, which is his day of inauguration; and this is the great day for Londoners. He rides in a large carved gilt carriage. I believe he goes to Westminster by water, in a splendid barge, and comes back in his coach. The salary is eight thousand pounds; but the expenses are beyond this amount, and some persons refuse to serve, and pay a fine of five hundred pounds; but this is a rare case, and enough are ready to pay for the honor. In the city the mayor ranks before the royal family. The title of "your lordship" ceases at the expiration of his office.

Our next visit was to the Royal Exchange, a very noble quadrangle, which was finished in 1844. It stands finely between the Bank of England and the Mansion House, and in front there is a sort of open space, or widening of the streets. This is the third building which has occupied the same spot—the two earlier ones were both burnt down. The original Exchange was built by Sir Thomas Gresham, and opened by Queen Elizabeth in 1570. It was copied from the famous Burse at Antwerp, which still stands. It is singular that, in the great fires of 1666 and 1838, the statue of Sir Thomas Gresham escaped uninjured. The Exchange is built of Portland stone, and already has acquired, from the smoke of London, a venerable tinge. The portico, I am told, is the largest in the kingdom; but the one at St. Martin's Church I like better. Crossing over the road, we were at the Bank of England. This is a truly immense affair. The walls measure fourteen hundred and sixty feet. It wad built in 1734, but has had many alterations and additions, and now covers four acres. We did not go into it.

The docks of London are among the attractions of the place. They are called St. Catharine's, London, East India, West India, Commercial, &c. These are tar too great an affair for me to describe; and to look at them, and then think of writing an account, is very much like a small boy opening a book of mathematics and trying to understand it. What do you think of the tobacco warehouse, at the docks covering five acres? Then the tea in bonded warehouses was worth twenty-five millions of dollars; and there are ten millions of pounds of pepper, six millions of gallons of wine, and other things in proportion. I inquired about the shipping, and was told that there were about four thousand seven hundred and fifty vessels, and eighty thousand seamen, employed in the foreign commerce of the city; and beyond all this, twenty-one thousand coasting vessels, averaging five or six men to each craft. Nothing in London amazes us like these docks. Here you see Malays, Turks, Lascars, Chinese, Russians, Portuguese, Dutch, French, Negroes, and men of all nations.

We went several times to walk through Covent Garden Market, and to see it to advantage you must go very early in the morning. The supply of fruits and flowers is perfectly astonishing, and the perfume is very fine. You little imagine, Charley, the prices that early vegetables and fruits fetch. A cucumber and onion, wrapped up in grape leaves, will, in February, March, and early part of April, find purchasers at two, three, and four dollars. Strawberries, peaches, and pines are sold in early season at what we should think "awful" prices. The hothouse grapes are very beautiful, and the vegetable productions are more carefully raised, and in greater variety, than with us. If you want to know all about Covent Garden Market, you must read Mayhew on London Labor—a nice book.

We boys had a treat the other day at an autograph collector's. His collection was large and rare, but his prices very high. I have saved a catalogue for you.

To-morrow we are off for the continent, and we are very busy in making our arrangements; so I must close. Our next will be from La Belle France.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 24.


Dear Charley:—

On a fine morning we left London, by rail, for Dover, in company with the Rev. Dr. Murray, of New Jersey, and Dr. Chetwood, who made quite a pleasant addition to our party. On reaching Dover, we were gratified with the commanding position of the castle, which stands upon the white chalky cliffs so celebrated by Shakspeare. The town lies in a charming valley. Dover boasts of high antiquity. The Saxons and Romans both left enduring memorials of their residence. Its importance was felt at a very early day, on account of its being the best and authorized port to carry on intercourse with France. Dover Castle was a strong fortification when William the Conqueror landed. We found a steamer ready to start, and in a few minutes were all on board. The Straits of Dover are but twenty-one miles wide; and yet, in this short passage of barely two hours, we all suffered sadly from sea sickness. The boat was small, the passengers were numerous, and all were thankful to plant their feet upon the soil of the republic. The examination of our passports, and refreshment at the station-house, occupied about half an hour, and we again entered on our journey by the rail. I shall say nothing of the place, at present, as we fully intend to pass a day here, on our return, to examine this interesting old city. We found the cars good, the railroad excellent but every thing looked strange. No farms laid out in fine fields, and divided off by hedges, as in England; or fences and stone walls, as with us. We every where noticed women working in the field. We passed through St. Omer, a fortified town, of twenty thousand inhabitants. This is a town where many English Catholics have been sent for education. We then came to Lille, which looked like a large city. It has about seventy thousand inhabitants. The fortifications look very strong, and were constructed by the great Vauban. This place has been besieged several times—once by the Duke of Marlborough, for three months, when it surrendered under Marshal Boufflers. We were amazed at the vast number of windmills—amounting to hundreds—every where to be seen around the town; and the tall chimneys in the town tell plainly that this is a great manufacturing place. The windmills are employed in preparing flax for linen.

Douai was our next town. It has about eighteen thousand inhabitants, and has a foundery for ordnance. The Theological Seminary here has been famous, and most of the Catholic clergy of England and Ireland were formerly educated here. Arras is a town of about twenty-five thousand population, and is celebrated as the birthplace of Robespierre. It is said to be a very beautiful place, but we saw little of it. The cars next passed through Amiens, a city of about fifty thousand inhabitants. It was at this city that a treaty of peace was made between France and England, in 1802. Clermont is a very neat little town, of about five thousand inhabitants. It has a fine old castle, and every thing looked lively and prosperous. Pontoise, on the River Oise, is a small town; and I should think that, from the upper part of the town, the prospect is very beautiful.

We reached Paris in about eleven hours and a half from London. Really, this seems very strange, that I should breakfast in London and dine at Paris. After having our luggage examined at the station, by the police, we repaired at once to the Hotel Windsor, on the Rue Rivoli. This was the hotel where Dr. C. had his quarters, fifteen years ago; and is it not strange that we have the same suite of rooms that he then occupied? We have a fine drawing-room, a dining-room, and three good chambers. Our hotel is exactly opposite the gardens of the Tuileries, and is in the pleasantest part of the city. James, you know, was once here for three months; and he has quite a knowledge of the city, and seems perfectly at home. We take our breakfast in our apartments or the coffee-room, as suits us best, at about nine o'clock; our dinners in some good café, in various parts of the city, or at the table d'hôte, at Meurice's Hotel, which is just next door to us. In calling on one or two persons, we found them in old apartments, but quite noble rooms, as high up as four and five stories; and we hear that many families live in the same building, and that many very respectable people live in the sixth, and even seventh story. This I should never like. Whenever we go out, we leave our key with the concierge or his wife, who live in a snug little apartment just inside the great gate, which opens into a well-paved court. We have determined not to engage a guide in Paris, because it is often annoying to have a coarse, vulgar mind disturbing you, when all you ask is silence and your own reflections. It is quite a mistake to suppose that you cannot get along without a valet de place—for in every hotel, and almost every large establishment, there are persons to be found who speak English. We paid our respects to our good friend the consul, and found him very comfortably settled down in his office, and residing in excellent style. A pleasant evening with his family made us all think of our old times on board the Arctic. The day after we arrived was James's birthday, and he was to give us a dinner, and had invited the consul and his son to dine with us. Well, at five we met at the consulate, and we boys walked ahead with Mr. G., Jr., leaving the doctor and the consul to bring up the rear. He supposed that his father understood where he proposed to take us, and so we went on speedily. In the Rue Vivienne they lost sight of us; we arrived at the Café Vachette, on the boulevards, and ordered dinner for the party. The gentlemen, however, kept walking the street for two hours. At last they gave up the matter as a bad case, and took refuge for a late dinner by themselves in a neighboring café. At nine we all met, sadly disappointed. The pleasant occasion had been quite disarranged, and some hard jokes passed upon our want of tact in not sending out scouts to search the Rue Vivienne, with the geography of which the doctor declares he is now perfectly acquainted—having tramped it for two hours with the consul. Of course, we all have to take their jokes upon our defrauding them of a fine dinner. We have dined since at the Trois Frères Provençaux, which has the reputation of being one of the best cafés in Paris. Our room commanded a perfect view of the quadrangle of the Palais Royal, and the spectacle was highly interesting. The accommodations of the room we occupied were very fine; and nothing could surpass the beauty of the table linen, plate, &c. We are about to commence the sights of the city in earnest, and are this evening to arrange our plans.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 25.


Dear Charley:—

I like this city very much—every one seems so happy out of doors. Not only the poor, but the wealthy, are fond of the open air; and a great deal of time is spent in the gardens and on the boulevards. Every place seems to have provision made for the enjoyment of the people. Ices and lemonade are to be found wherever you go. The appearance of the streets in Paris is much gayer than those of London. You see a much greater number of women walking out, and they are generally very neatly dressed. But the streets do not look as substantial as they do in London. If there is more that is imposing, there is less that keeps up your wonder. I do not feel able to think that the people here have much business to do, for every one seems to be engaged in pleasure; and yet there are great concerns going on, and the fine manufactures of this city are only to be done by labor and attention. Nothing, at our first glances at the city, have pleased us more than the profusion of flowers every where to be seen. It is quite common to see men with a rose in the button hole, or a beautiful carnation. The roses are my admiration. I never saw such beauties before; and whether it is owing to the climate, or to scientific cultivation, I know not, but certainly I never have beheld such variety or perfection. In the flower shops you will find very large bunches of rosebuds, each bunch made up exclusively of buds of one size, from the dimensions of a pea in all gradations up to the diameter of a half dollar—not a leaf opened, simply a bouquet of rosebuds, and the whole embowered in a delicate sheet of white paper. I reckoned the contents of one, and found two hundred and sixty-seven buds not larger than a common pea, and the price was only a franc. The moss roses are beyond all my conceptions of floral beauty; and, go where I may, I find every niche of ground adorned with standard roses of various hues, and the walls and windows are beautified with brilliant geraniums, which are evidently great favorites.

We had a funny affair yesterday. We all went to make a call upon Mr. D——, and found his residence in a splendid part of the city; but, instead of being ushered into his drawing-room, we were brought into the saloon of no less a personage than the Lord Bishop of Jamaica! He politely directed us to the next apartment, where we spent an agreeable hour with the family, and found that similar mistakes occur almost daily.

Our first tramp for a sight was to Notre Dame; and I shall never forget, Charley, my first view of this cathedral. The exterior is more striking than any church edifice that I have yet seen. No engraving can afford a fair idea of its grandeur to one who has not seen it, though it will help my mind, to recall its beauties whenever I see the picture. You are so well read about Paris, that I hardly need tell you that eight centuries have rolled away since Notre Dame was built. It is regarded as the noblest Gothic pile in France, and is the pride of Paris. The front is one hundred and twenty feet wide, and the richness of the carvings upon the exterior is wonderful. I am really glad to see that great pains are taking to restore and adorn this church. The decayed stones are taken out, and new ones replaced, and the carvings also are renewed where necessary, so that future ages may see what so delights us. The two towers are forty feet square and two hundred high, and you ascend by a staircase of four hundred steps. The form of the church is that of the Latin cross. Its dimensions inside are four hundred feet by one hundred and forty, and the height is one hundred feet. All through the cathedral is a line of Gothic arches supported by columns, and, as you enter the great door, you see the entire edifice. The walls look bare to my eye, in spite of the paintings. We were much pleased at seeing the spot where Napoleon was crowned; and George was in ecstasies, for you know how thoroughly he goes in for his beau ideal of the hero. Here are, the splendid candelabra which the emperor gave on the occasion. We heard mass, but the service was very formal, and the priest might have been a real downeaster, for he had a horrid nasal twang, and his "sanctissime" was "shanktissime." The history of these churches is strange, and I think a pretty good book might be written on the romance of church architecture. The portal of the north aisle of the choir was erected by a vile assassin, the Duke of Burgundy, who murdered his cousin, the Duke of Orleans, in 1407. This, of course, was his penance, and fully expiated his crime. The great bell weighs thirty-two thousand pounds, and was baptized in presence of Louis XIV., and is called Emanuel Louise Therese, after his queen. I cannot attempt to describe the beauties of this building, inside or out. The exterior is all flying buttresses, crocketed pinnacles, and sculpture. Inside you see chapel after chapel; and as to windows of painted glass, they are studies for hours. The rose windows are exquisite.

We repaired to a small chapel used as a sacristy, or treasure-house of the church. Here we saw the coronation robes of Napoleon, and splendid capes and embroideries, in gold and silver, given by Charles X. and Louis Philippe; and here, too, is the vertebræ of the late Archbishop of Paris, who was killed in the revolution of 1848. The bone has a silver arrow tracing the course of the bullet, which lies beside it. This is in time to be a saintly relic, but it seems to me a filthy sight, and in wretched taste. But Popery knows well what to do with dead men's bones. For a minute description of this church, I would refer you to three volumes, called the "History of Paris," published by Galignani. On our return we went to the Hotel de Ville, and had the company of M. O——n, whose kindness did much for us on several occasions. The Hotel de Ville stands in the Place de Grève, where so much blood has been shed in other days. Here the martyrs of the Protestant faith have been put to death. Here it was that Dubourg was strangled and burnt by order of Francis II. Dubourg was a noble character. His last words were, "Father, abandon me not; neither will I abandon thee."

This noble pile was begun in 1533, and only completed in 1841, and in the modern improvements fifteen millions have been expended. The whole now forms an immense quadrangle. The front is Corinthian, with pillars and niches between the windows. A vast number of statues adorn the front, and others are in preparation.

It was at the doorway in the centre that Lamartine, "the noblest Roman of them all," so gloriously withstood the mob in February, 1848, declaring that the red flag should not be the flag of France. I wish you could see this palace, for such it is, though occupied by the city authorities. London has nothing to approach it in splendor. The staircases are gorgeous, and are so rich in sculpture that only a sculptor could properly speak of them. We saw the room where Robespierre held his council and attempted suicide, and also the window where our Lafayette embraced Louis Philippe, and presented him to the mob in 1830. It is the same window where poor Louis XVI. addressed the savages, when he wore the cap of liberty. By the way, I hate the sight of that cap, which always reminds me of the lamp-post executions of the French capital in 1792-3. Its prevalence in our happy country is owing to the French mania which once possessed the people, and has very much died out. The apartments are regal, and some of them, I think, quite superior to those of Windsor Castle. In this building is a fine library, and here are deposited the vast collection of American books obtained by Vattemare, whom, you recollect, we saw at Washington.

I cannot tell you how sorely vexed we are to find the Louvre shut up for repairs and decoration; every week they say it is to be reopened, but I fear we shall leave Paris ere it happens.

How much we would all give to have you here; for, though we are glad to tell you what we see, we feel there are scores of objects which interest us that we have to pass over, but which would make your eyes glisten, if you could gaze upon. Well, my dear fellow, stick to your business, make your fortune, and then come and look at the beautiful and fair in the old world; and who knows but perhaps we may yet chat cosily together in Paris? O, I do love to wander through this city by moonlight, and gaze upon the bright, lofty buildings as they loom up so gloriously in the mild lustre of a silvery night. God bless you.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 26.


Dear Charley:—

We have been to dine at the Palais Royal, at the Trois Frères Provençaux, of which I suppose the boys have told you; and I shall only speak about the fine building, so renowned all over the world. The Palais Royal is to Paris what Paris is to France. Its history is briefly this: Cardinal Richelieu built it for himself; but the king, Louis XIII., was jealous, and the wily old priest gave it to the monarch, and, after Richelieu's death, he moved into it. In 1692, it fell into the hands of Philippe, Duke of Orleans, as a gift, or marriage portion, from Louis XIV., and here the great Orleans collection of paintings was gathered, and which was sold in 1789, at the breaking out of the great troubles. In 1814, Louis Philippe obtained it as his inheritance, and lived there till 1831. The garden is very fine, and is about seven hundred and fifty feet by three hundred, and has beautiful rows of lime-trees, trimmed into shape, as are most of these trees in Paris. In the centre are flower gardens and a basin of water, with a fine fountain. In this open space are beautiful bronze and marble statues. One I admired exceedingly; it is Eurydice, stung by a snake. In this garden are hundreds of persons under the trees, on chairs, which are hired, where they read and take refreshments. Under the arcades which surround the area are the most tasty shops of Paris, and where you may get any thing you please. A gayer sight than this same Palais Royal, or, as they now call it, Palais National, cannot be seen in this world. I shall not attempt to tell you about the apartments of the palace, and which you can read of at your leisure. What a loss it was to the world when, in February, 1848, six hundred thousand engravings, all classified by Louis Philippe, and making one hundred and twenty-two enormous folios, were destroyed by the mob, and the queen's own library also!

We lounged about from one shop to another, and made purchases of some pretty things, which we hope may serve to show friends at home that we did not quite forget them.

The Passage d'Orleans will never die out from my memory, nor shall I ever forget the Café d'Orleans, with its mirrors, walls, and ceilings, all radiant with a thousand lights. We find at every few steps the magazine for the Indian weed, and all varieties of pipe, from the commonest en bois to the elegantly carved ecume de mer, which would cost two or three hundred francs. Here, too, are the Theatres Français and Palais Royal, and other places of amusement.

In our walks about the city we are sure to have all the notable places pointed out; and one morning, just after I had obtained a Henry IV. silver coin, in fine preservation, we were taken home by a long walk through the Rue St. Honore. The house No. 3, in this street, is the one in front of which Henry IV. was assassinated by Ravaillac. A bust of the king stands against the second story, with an inscription. In the Rue Vivienne, No. 34, we saw the house where Molière died, on which is a marble tablet, with this inscription: "Molière est mort dans cette maison, le 17 Février, 1673, à l'âge de 51 ans." At the corner of the same street, where a small passage way branches off, is a fine monument to the memory of the great poet and the noblest comic writer of France. The statue is of bronze, in a sitting posture; on each side are figures,—one humorous, the other serious,—both looking at the statue. At the foot of the monument is a basin to receive water, which flows from three lions' heads. This work was put up in 1844, with public services, on which occasion the first men of France took a part. Another morning's walk led us to the Rue de l'École de Médecine, and in this street Marat lived, at No. 20, and here it was, in a small room, that he was stabbed, while bathing, by Charlotte Corday, in 1793. And in this same street was held the old club of the Cordeliers.

When I see the places of which I have heard so often it seems very interesting, and will forever identify the scenes with my future reading.

We all enjoyed a visit to the palace of the Luxembourg. This edifice was begun in the sixteenth century, and the present palace was chiefly built early in the next one, by Marie de Medicis, in imitation of one at Florence. Bonaparte used it when chief consul. The old senate held its sessions there till its dissolution, in 1814. I never saw a building whose proportions appeared to me so elegant. The court is a parallelogram of three hundred and sixty by three hundred feet. The front consists of two pavilions, joined by terraces, and in the centre rises a cupola, around which are statues. In such a palace fine rooms are to be expected, and here they are in great number. The Senate Chamber or Chamber of Peers, is very suitable for its purpose. The library is good, and contains about fifteen thousand volumes. The picture gallery is large, and at present principally filled with pictures of living artists, and at his death the picture of each one is removed to the Louvre. All the great paintings of Napoleon's battles are gone to Versailles; so we shall see them in the series. The chapel is an exquisite gem: it has, beyond all comparison, the most devotional air of any thing I have seen of the sort.

The gardens are fine, and have some noble terraces, adorned with plenty of statues, some of which are quite old; but a great many new ones, by living artists, are rapidly taking their places. The balustrades of the terraces are beautified with groups of children, athletæ, &c. Here are some fine old orange-trees, which were throwing out their blossoms most fragrantly; and I must not forget the noble clusters of chestnut-trees which are on the sides of the walks. The garden is a lovely spot, and I saw hundreds of old and young, who seemed to enjoy themselves highly. I am half surprised to find myself more delighted in Europe with the completeness and splendor of the gardens and public grounds than with the palaces and their internal gorgeousness. If I could carry back to my own beloved country any thing from England or France, it should be their gardens, their walks, their libraries and museums. As to the comforts and elegances of life, we have enough of them for our good. The Musée d'Artillerie is quite a place of interest, and here are seen some fine suits of ancient armor. The arrangement is good, and an hour's attention is well repaid.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 27.


Dear Charley:—

This has been a great day for enjoyment, and has made us all in love with Paris. We have seen, this morning, that which has pleased me more than all else I have looked at in Europe. We spent several hours at the Hotel de Cluny, in the Rue des Mathurins. I am surprised that so many Americans come to Paris and never see this castle of curiosities. To understand our gratification, I must bore you a little with its history, and then you will see what a treat we enjoyed. This venerable pile was erected on the site of the Palais des Thermes, formerly the dwelling-place of the Roman governors of Gaul. Here Julian lived when he was made emperor of Rome, in 360. Of the extraordinary remains of this palace I shall tell you by and by. On this spot, then, in 1480, an abbot of Cluny commenced this building, and it was completed in 1505. This magnificent monastery—the city residence of the monks of Cluny—was often made the residence of royal and distinguished visitors. Here for two years lived Mary, the daughter of Henry VII. of England, and widow of Louis XII. of France, who, while here, married the Duke of Suffolk. Her chamber still exists, and we saw it in high preservation. This marriage, you will remember, laid the foundation for the claim of Lady Jane Grey to the crown. Here, too, for a season, the excellent abbess and the nuns of Port Royal found a refuge. Some forty years ago, it came into the hands of M. Sommerard, a man devoted to antiquarian pursuits, and here he expended a large property in forming a vast collection of all sorts of relics he could gather belonging to the medieval ages. A few years ago, he died, and then the government wisely purchased the hotel and its unrivalled museum for half a million of francs; and additions are constantly made to it of every curiosity that can illustrate the habits and manners of the early history of France and Europe. The building is very striking in its first aspect. It has several Gothic turrets, and very rich windows, and the court yards and garden are all in keeping. What good times those old abbots, and monks must have had in their visits to Paris, in such a palace as this was! You pass from room, to room, all filled with the antique, till you get leg-weary. The floors are exquisitely beautiful—some in fine old black oak, let in, in patterns; others are bricks and tiles, in mosaic. Then the old mantel-pieces are wonderfully fine. We saw plenty of tapestry, old as the hills; and one set of hangings was the history of David and Bathsheba. Some of the bedsteads are very curious. One belonged to Francis I. Perhaps the largest and most valuable collection of carved Wood furniture in the world is here to be seen. Such cabinets, chairs, tables, chests, I never imagined. The work is of the most delicate and complicated character. Then you find a wonderful collection of glass and earthen ware—cups and goblets belonging to men of note of every age in French history. One room is full of ancient armor, another of gems, enamels, &c., another of pictures of the most curious kind; and as to mirrors and looking-glasses, they are in great plenty; and china enough to make some ladies in America whom I know break the commandment.

You can fancy, Charley, what sort of a place this must be, when I tell you that the catalogue of this collection is a volume of two hundred and forty octavo pages, and embraces eighteen hundred and ninety-five particulars. I have the catalogue, and can assure you that it includes some queer antiquities, of which we cannot speak particularly at present.

A word or two about the ruins of Julian's Palace of the Baths. Here is still a vast hall, which was doubtless the place for cold baths. The dimensions are sixty feet by thirty-five. In the cellars are the evident remains of the warm baths. The walls are of immense thickness, and will probably last as long as the earth on which they rest. This hall is the place of deposit for any Roman sculpture that may be found in the excavations of the city.

I am sure that, next to the Crystal Palace, this has been our greatest treat. We enjoyed this morning the more, because we had the company of Mr. George Sumner, who has lived in Paris so long that he is perfectly familiar with every object of interest. I never met with any one who appeared to have so much local knowledge as he possesses. He knows the history of every thing, and he seems at home on all names, dates, and facts of other ages. Whenever we read up, after a walk with him, we find that he knows all that is known; and in truth he talks like a book, but better than most books. The attention of this gentleman has been very great to us boys, and he seems never tired when doing us kindness. But if Mr. S. knows places well, he is no less intimate with men; and probably no American has ever enjoyed his opportunities to cultivate the acquaintance of the best and greatest men in Paris.

We have visited the Church of St. Sulpice, which was begun in 1655, and only completed late in the last century. The portico is very grand, and is a double row of Doric pillars, forty feet high. It has two towers, which are over two hundred feet high, and on which are telegraphs. The church forms a cross, and is four hundred and thirty-two feet in length, one hundred and seventy-four in width, and ninety-nine in height. The organ is finely carved, and is more elaborate in its work than any I have seen yet. The statuary, both in bronze and marble, here, is beautiful, and the candelabra are greatly admired. As to pictures, I can only say they are many and fine. The marble monument and statue to Languet de Gergy, the former curé of this parish, and who mainly contributed to its erection or completion, is much admired, and on this tomb is the most elegant inscription of modern times. But I cannot insert it here. Directly in front of the church, in an open square, is a very fine fountain, which partakes of the ecclesiastical in its style—having in four niches the statues of Bossuet, Massillon, Fléchier, and Fénélon.

In our walk we were all struck with an immense wooden pile, which we found was the Bibliothèque St. Geneviéve. The front is very chaste, and has very many arched windows. The library is more than three hundred feet in length, and is covered on the exterior with the names of all the great authors of every age and nation. We saw the names of many of our countrymen—Washington, Franklin, Rumford, Clinton, Cooper, Prescott, Irving, &c. We were unable to enter, as repairs were in progress, but were told that the library has two hundred thousand volumes, and several thousand MSS.

We have all been much gratified with the Church of St. Etienne du Mont. It boasts an antiquity that dates back to 1131, and its tower and turret are known to be as early as 1222. The exterior is remarkable for a strange mixture of architecture, and some of the details are very beautiful. The interior cannot fail to interest a thoughtful person, I think. The pictures are very fine indeed, and some of the marbles are of the highest excellence. We went into the little Chapel of St. Genevieve, the patron saint of Paris, where is the tomb of the saint. The tomb was literally stuck over with small tallow candles, and looked like a piece of meat larded. The room was filled with worshippers, all on their knees; and two women had as much anguish in their faces as I ever saw. All the people kneeling at this tomb seemed far more intent and in earnest than the hundreds at grand mass in the church proper. Just as we stepped outside this chapel, we found on the wall the monuments of Racine and Pascal, who are both buried in this church. The church was full of people, and in one little chapel the priest was baptizing an infant. We went in and looked on. It was the first time I had ever witnessed this monstrous mummery in the Catholic church; and I called in the Dr. and Mr. S., who were looking at some statuary. The priest was hardly decent at his work. He did it all in a hurry,—put oil and something else on the child, fore and aft,—and how men and women could stand and let the stupidity take place on their children, I cannot understand. After seeing Pascal's grave, and thinking of his immortal works, it was poor preparation for the mountebank exhibition, and awkward work of making Christians, that we witnessed. You know, Charley, that I am not a lover of Romanism, but I never felt so thankful as on that day for being a Protestant.

The pictures of this church are very well worthy of careful notice—especially two, said to have been given by the city to the saint, who caused a famine to stay its ravages, and restored a sick king by intercession.

Now, pray, do not think me church mad if I carry you once more to another old one. I am sure, if you had seen it, that it would cause you to talk about it often. Well, it is the Church St. Germain des Pres. This is regarded as the oldest in Paris, and was originally an abbey. There was a church here as early as 560. This was probably built about the middle of the ninth century, and its completion was in the twelfth; for it was consecrated by Pope Alexander III. In this church was the tomb of Childebert, the founder of the first edifice. The abbey had a refectory, cloisters, &c., was surrounded by a moat, and had been fortified. A large open field, close by, was the resort of duellists, and many a bloody affray has there occurred. Casimir, King of Poland, was an abbot of this church. The revolution was sadly injurious to this fine sanctuary, and it was for a time converted into a saltpetre manufactory. Charles X. repaired it, and after him Louis Philippe carefully superintended its restoration. The inside of the church is a cross, with a circular choir; and the arches are semi-circular, and indicate great antiquity. The restoration of the nave and choir has been most carefully done, at immense expense. The roof of the choir is painted deep blue, with stars. The capitals of the columns are richly gilt, and the shafts are painted in red stripes—exact copies of the old devices. Nothing can be finer than the marble altar and the carved stalls of the choir. Nor does the church lack for historical names among its dead. Here are the tombs of Earl Douglass, Descartes, Mabillon, Montfaucon, and Casimir of Poland, who died, abbot, in 1672. Every thing here in ecclesiastical architecture is so different from all that we have in our country, that I examine these noble relics with great pleasure, and do not know but I shall soon become as antiquarian in my taste as-you know who.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 28.


Dear Charley:—

On a fine morning we rode over to the Jardin des Plantes, accompanied by Mr. R——, whose long residence has made him very familiar with this lovely spot. I think we all looked forward to this excursion with great anticipation, because we knew that this was the most famous garden in Europe; and then, in connection with it, are the richest cabinets in the world of natural history, mineralogy, geology, and a noble collection of living animals from all countries. Ever since 1635, the world has been placed under contribution to enrich this spot. The greatest botanists and naturalists of Europe have labored here. Buffon himself was the great man of the place in his day. Even revolutionary fury spared this retreat and treasury of Nature. Bonaparte made it his pet, and when the troops of Europe were at the walls of Paris, they agreed to respect and preserve the spot so dear to science. This establishment is on the banks of the river, and there are many portals by which entrance may be obtained. The gardens are very large, but I cannot speak of their exact size. They are in the neatest order. Every shrub and flower, plant and tree, is labelled, so that reference is easy. I was delighted to see, on a lofty eminence, the cedar of Lebanon. It is a glorious tree, and was planted here in 1734, and is now about twelve feet round at its base. We also saw some palm-trees which were given by Louis XIV. They were, I should think, nearly thirty feet high.

The Menagerie has long been famous, and is most admirably laid out in walks and enclosures, so that the animals have plenty of room for exercise and pasture. Since the days of Noah's ark, I suppose there never was such a collection of animals, clean and unclean. The bears, elephants, lions, and tigers are all what are called first-rate specimens.

We were pointed out the house where the celebrated Cuvier lived, and which was his favorite residence. Here was his life's labor, the Zoölogical Cabinet, which he arranged according to his system. Only fancy a house about four hundred feet long, having three stories, and all filled up with nearly two hundred thousand specimens; and the preparations are almost as fine as the animal was in life.

The Museum of Comparative Anatomy, also, was the labor of Cuvier. The collections of mineralogy and geology are very extensive; but I did not have much time to examine them, nor are they as much in my line as some other things. The specimens of precious stones were curious, and I was pleased to see amber containing perfect insects, perhaps antediluvian insects. And so we employed three hours upon what I should have liked to pass three whole days. But it would take years of diligent study to understand what is here to be seen.

If a person walks about Paris and inquires much as to the history of the city and its improvements, as we Americans say, he will soon find that Paris has been chiefly indebted for her grandeur to Henry IV., Louis XIV., Napoleon, and Louis Philippe. Bridges, places, arches, and fountains show how much Paris owes to these rulers. Of fountains there are, I should think, nearly a hundred in the city, and some are exceedingly fine. The Seine is not much of an affair. With us, it would be only a muddy brook. Some of the bridges that span it are fine. I have seen nothing in Paris more picturesque than the prospect from the Pont Neuf. It is my favorite stand point. Off to the right are the towers of Notre Dame, and the long line of old houses which tell of centuries upon centuries since they were built; and on the left of the river are the Hotel de Ville, St. Germain L'Auxerrois; and some of the most venerable streets. From the bell tower of St. Germain the signal was rung for the infamous massacre of the Protestants, on St. Bartholomew's eve, 23d of August, 1572. In the Rue de l'Arbre sec, at No. 14, was Admiral Coligny murdered on that occasion. It was formerly known as the Hotel Ponthieu, but is to be demolished in a few weeks, to make way for improvements. We felt a desire to see the spot where the Bastile formerly stood, and which was destroyed by the mob in July, 1789, and the key of which is now at Mount Vernon, having been sent as a present to Washington. This was the theatre of the greatest resistance made by the insurgents in June, 1848; and here, too, it was that the Archbishop of Paris met with his death. On the site of the Bastile, Louis Philippe laid the foundation of a column which commemorates the revolution of 1830. This column is of bronze, and is one hundred and sixty-three feet high, in addition to the pedestal of white marble, supported by immense granite blocks. The diameter of the column is, I believe, twelve feet, and it cost about twelve hundred thousand francs. There is no masonry in the interior. The staircase is suspended, and the whole concern vibrates with the passing breeze. I did not ascend, you may be sure. The Corinthian capital, over which is a gallery with rails, is very beautiful, and is the largest casting in bronze that is known—or, rather, was, for I think that the Amazon at the London Exhibition will take the palm for size. On the globe which surmounts the pillar stands a colossal gilt figure, which represents Liberty. On the bands which encircle the pillar are the names of those who were killed in the three days of July, amounting to fire hundred and four. All around and beneath are interred the remains of these patriots.

Colonne de Juillet. Colonne de Juillet.

We are going to take the Cemetery at Père la Chaise for to-morrow's excursion; and the rest of the day I must devote to letters home, as the packet day is close at hand.



Letter 29.


Dear Charley:—

This morning, as we were taking a very comfortable breakfast at the coffee-room of our hotel, and as I was reading Galignani's daily paper, I found a person at the next table addressing me, in nasal twang, "Stranger, is this fellow Galignani a reliable chap?" I assured him that he passed for an authority. Laying down his paper on the table, he pathetically described the tramp which the programme for the sight-seeing of yesterday's paper had given him, and declared his inability to keep up with the instructions for that day. Finding that he was a character, I carried on the conversation; and he talked most edifyingly to all in the room, as he spoke loud enough to be heard at the very end. I inquired if he had been to London. His reply was, "I reckon I have; why, I come on purpose to see the Crystial Palace." "Well, sir," I said, "and how did you like it?" "O, that exhibition is some!" "And pray, sir, what did you think of the Greek Slave?" "There, now, stranger, I takes it that where she were raised cotton was dreadful scarce." This, was too much and too good; and I think it is by far the best thing I have heard about the exhibition. How the boys managed to keep quiet, I know not; but they did as well as could be expected. The room was thoroughly awake, and I resigned our countryman to other hands.

After breakfast, we rode to the Cemetery of Père la Chaise. This spot has for centuries been celebrated for its beauty; and, for a period of more than one hundred years, the Jesuits had a country residence here. They had it early in the sixteenth century, or, perhaps, at the close of the fifteenth. Louis XIV. made his confessor, Père la Chaise, the superior of the society; and in 1705 it was the head-quarters of Jesuitism in France.

The present cemetery was consecrated in 1804; and the entire grounds are walled in, and they are very nearly two hundred acres. You know how much I admire Greenwood and Mount Auburn. Well, I still prefer them to this Golgotha. The walks are some of them fine, but the tombs are too thick. There is no regularity. It looks as though there had been a rain storm of tombs and monuments, and they lie as they fell. This is the very metropolis of death. Some of the monuments are elegant indeed, but often their beauties are hidden. The most attractive spot to us was the resting-place of "the bravest of the brave." Ney yet has no monument. The tombs of Casimir Perrier, the Countess Demidoff, Abelard and Héloise, General Macdonald, Lavalette, Gobert, Foy, Molière, Laplace, and Junot are some that pleased us most, and are exquisite specimens of art. Many of these tombs have small rooms, with altars and glass doors. Opposite the altar is a chair, and we saw several mourners in devout attitude at the shrine of affection. I have heard from a Parisian of great intelligence, and who has been connected with the city government, that very nearly, if not quite, thirty millions of dollars have been spent upon this cemetery. Of course, the expense of sculpture here has been enormous, as the best talent of Europe has contributed to adorn the spot, and perpetuate the memory of the departed.

On leaving this charnel-house of mortality, we drove to the Abattoir de Popincourt, which is the largest in the city, and occupies six hundred and forty-five feet by fire hundred and seventy. On entering, we found four slaughter-houses, each standing alone. Here, too, are sheds for four thousand sheep, and stables for four hundred oxen. There are also four melting-houses. We also noticed a large building called the Triperie, for preparing tripe and the feet of animals. The week we were there the statistics of slaughter were as follows: Eight hundred and seventy-two oxen, three hundred and fifty-six cows, seven hundred calves, and two thousand eight hundred and seventy-five sheep. Nothing of the sort can be kept cleaner than this establishment. The water ran down every channel, and very little blood could be seen, or effluvia noticed. When will New York have its abattoirs? No city in the world needs such an auxiliary to health and comfort more than she does. Perhaps the good people will call for one after a few more visitations of cholera. There are four other similar establishments in Paris.

We had a nice ride home round the boulevards, and, stopping at the consul's office, found a famous budget of letters and papers, and with great pleasure we addressed ourselves to their contents. I am amused to see how various are the demands made upon the time and services of a consul. He needs to have the patience of Job; and if he answers satisfactorily and authoritatively the questions which I have heard propounded, he ought to have in his library the acts of every state legislature in the Union. Marriage, death, removal of deceased relatives from their places of sepulture, rates of interest, value of stocks, condition of railroads, and statistics of all sorts have been topics which I have heard laid before him for advice and opinion. Very few men, however, possess more general knowledge of the United States than our consul—Mr. Goodrich—does; and his kindness will lead him to do all he can to satisfy the querist.

Yours, as ever,


Letter 30.


Dear Charley:—

Yesterday we went to the Cirque, in the Champs Elysées. It is a very large building, with sixteen sides, and behind is another spacious one for the horses. The intention of the builder was to represent a Moorish hall; and the pillars of iron are, with the panellings of the walls, gilt and frescoed. The roof is very elegant, and the largest chandelier in Paris is in the centre, blazing with I cannot tell you how many gas lights. The circus will accommodate about six or seven thousand people, and when we were there it was very nearly full. We paid two francs each, and had the best seats. The performances were very good, and some quite beyond any thing I had before seen. There was one feat that was really great. They placed planks upon supporters, from the centre of the circus up to the edge of the gallery, making an angle of about fifty feet. Well, Charley, a fellow walked in with a ball, about three quarters of a yard in diameter, and on this ball he trotted about on the ground for perhaps two minutes; then he marches it to the foot of this plank, still standing on it, and up he goes,—yes, he totes and coaxes the ball under his feet, up, up,—till at last he stands on it on the gallery; and then, did not the place ring again with applause? But then it is not over; for down he comes the selfsame way—and that is the tug of war; but he did it. This he did backwards, also, each way. I never saw any thing before that would equal this, and I want to see him do it again before we leave Paris. The horsemanship was very good. But there was one fellow who threw himself into the very oddest attitudes you can fancy. He looked, as he moved about on the earth, like any thing but a human. We were all much amused with the audience. Entire families were there. You could see parties coming in where there was no mistake about grandfather and grandmother, father, mother, and all the children. It seems that all classes here have a taste for amusement, and pursue it with much earnestness. The audience behaved very well—every thing was quiet. I noticed a great many well-dressed women who carried round crickets to the ladies, for their feet, and for this they got a few sous.

As we returned, we found, in the grounds through which we walked, scores of establishments for juvenile amusement—stalls where there are exhibitions of moving figures, and at which you may shoot with bow and arrow by paying a small price. Not far from the Cirque we met with an out-door concert, in a very tasty garden—the performers all occupying a fine orchestra. The audience were seated at tables in the garden, taking ice cream, lemonade, coffee, &c. Now and then one of the singers would pass round and take up a collection.

This day we went to the Hippodrome, which is a very large enclosure, nearly opposite the Triumphal Arch. This is no less than three hundred and eighty feet in diameter, and will seat all of ten thousand persons, who are under shelter, but the course-ground is open to the heavens. This place is open from three to five during the warm weather, and is under the same management as the Cirque. Our great object in coming was to see the ball feat again, and also the skirmishes of some twenty Arabs, who are here exhibiting their tactics. I never saw a more reckless, savage-looking set of fellows than they were. Only one looked like a venerable Arab—he did look patriarchal. They had several sham attacks, and rode about shooting helter skelter, looking as if they would enjoy the real thing much better. These fellows are said to be some of the Algerine captives brought over by the French. Our friend Mr. Hodgson, who lived so long in Turkey, and speaks Arabic, talked with them, much to their surprise.

We have determined to leave Paris this week, and commence our journey through Belgium, Holland, go up the Rhine, and take Switzerland on our return to Paris—and perhaps we may leave to-morrow. I ought not to omit saying that we have had a very pleasant Sunday in our own parlor here. We did not feel much like going to the French church that morning; and the doctor invited the Rev. Dr. Murray, Dr. Chetwood, Rev. Mr. Darling, Judge Darling, Rev. Mr. Hovey, Mr. King, and some other friends to join us, and have a religious meeting. It was a very interesting one, too. Dr. Murray spoke about the state of France, the need the French had of our Sunday, and how they could not be a free and happy people, and get along without soldiers, till they had it. All the ministers took part; and I shall not very soon forget that day; and then I think we all thought a good deal about home, as each minister talked and prayed for our families.

Our next letters will, I suppose, be from Brussels.

Yours, &c.,


Letter 31.


Dear Charley:—

The fine weather, and the advantage of having pleasant company, has induced us to leave Paris and pursue our journey, leaving many things to see in the great metropolis when we return. I forgot to tell you that in Paris I had the pleasure to meet an English clergyman, a relative of mine, who was there passing the honey-moon. This gentleman and his lady joined our party; and we are now to go together as far as Antwerp, certainly. We took the rail from Paris direct to Brussels,—a distance of two hundred and thirty miles,—and passed through Amiens, Arras, Douai, Valenciennes, Quievrain, St. Jemappes,—here King Louis Philippe, with General Dumourier, in 1792, gained a battle over an Austrian army, and so gained Belgium to France, little thinking that his son-in-law would be its king,—Mons, Bruin le Compte, Halle, and so to Brussels. At Quievrain we found the custom-house of Belgium, and the little river, called Aunelle, is the boundary of the republic. Mons is a fine-looking place, fortified strongly. The region is one entire coal field, and there are many pits in operation. Ten miles from Mons Marlborough fought the battle of Malplaquet, in 1709. When we passed, the town was in great commotion with the trial of Count Bocarmé and his wife for the murder of her brother. She was by some means acquitted, but he was convicted and executed by the guillotine.

As soon as we entered Belgium, we were struck with the improvement of the lands. The small towns look remarkably thrifty, and every place seems to speak of manufactures and industry.

At Brussels, we put up at the Hotel Bellevue, in the Place Royale. The situation is good. In a large square, and in front of our hotel, is the magnificent statue, in bronze, of Godfrey, Duke of Boulogne, the cast of which we so admired as the Crusader, in the exhibition. In this square Leopold was inaugurated King of Belgium.

Every traveller enters Brussels with expectation of pleasure. He has heard that it is Paris in miniature; and then Byron has thrown around it his witchery of song. I can see but a dull and dim resemblance to Paris. Brussels, with its suburbs, which are quite large, has only a population of one hundred and thirty thousand. The town is very clean, looks cosy, and has some very beautiful edifices. But you come here full of fancy about "Belgium's capital," "her beauty and her chivalry," and the "windowed niche of that high hall," and you see at first only a plain, good, comfortable town. However, there is quite enough of romance, after all, in this same place; and when you traverse it thoroughly, you find enough to call out deep interest; and before you leave it you are much gratified, and, in all probability, feel desirous to see it again. I like to be in places that have a history; and this Brussels has. Let me tell you about this place. It stands on the brow of a high bill, and the upper and lower towns are different affairs entirely. The summit is covered with palaces, public buildings, boulevards, parks, &c., and the lower part is in the valley of the River Senne. Brussels was a city in 709. In 976, the Emperor Otho held his court there; in 1044, it was fortified and had seven gates; in 1405, a fire destroyed fourteen hundred houses; and in 1549, it suffered from two earthquakes. But still it grew and flourished under the dukes of Burgundy, and became famous for tapestry, lace, and fire-arms. In the days of Charles V., the city of Brussels was at its zenith. Philip II., his son, and his infamous general, the Duke of Alva, ravaged this city and vicinage. The people were fanatical, and the rulers cruel. In 1695, the city was besieged, and four thousand houses destroyed by the bombardment. In 1794, Belgium was annexed to France. After the battle of Waterloo, the Prince of Orange was proclaimed sovereign of Belgium. In 1830, the revolution displaced the Orange dynasty, and Belgium broke off from Holland; and in 1831, the people chose Leopold for their king. The first thing I wanted to see was the Hotel de Villa, which, many years ago, pleased me exceedingly; and I think all our party have been delighted with it. This is the noblest civil building in Belgium; it stands in a fine square, and is a glorious specimen of the Lombardy Gothic school. The spire is of open fretwork, and the sun shines through it. It has long been esteemed as one of the most precious works of architecture in Europe. The extreme height is three hundred and sixty-four feet, and it was erected in 1444. On the spire is a gilt statue of St. Michael, seventeen feet high, which turns with the wind. In front of this town hall Counts Egmont and Horn were executed, under the eye of Alva; but they were nobly avenged by William of Orange. At the head of a very steep and narrow street stands a most imposing structure. It is the Cathedral Church of St. Gudule. The foundation was laid in 1010. The front view is very much like that of Notre Dame, at Paris. This church is occasionally called St. Michael's in old writers, as it had a double consecration to the archangel and Gudule. The interior of this cathedral is very impressive, although the architecture is simple. The pillars supporting the roof are massive, and must receive the admiration of all spectators. There are brackets attached to them, on which stand finely-executed figures of the Savior, the Virgin Mary, and the Apostles, executed by the following renowned sculptors: Vandelyn, Quellyn, Tobias, and Duquesnoy. The pulpit is regarded as the finest in Europe, and is the most elaborate composition of sculpture in wood that is extant. It is the work of the great Verbruggen, and was originally executed for a Jesuit society at Louvain, in 1699. The art is exquisite, and far superior to the taste which is exhibited. The pulpit represents the expulsion of Adam and Eve from paradise by the angel. Death is seen in pursuit of the guilty fugitives; and on the extreme summit is the Virgin Mary, bruising the serpent's head with a cross. On the steps and balusters are various beasts and birds; the owl, ape, and peacock are conspicuous. We found preparations for a great church holiday, to be observed the next day; and the Virgin Mary was gayly decked out in embroidery, lace, and jewelry.

A monument to Count Merode, in a chapel, is a most exquisite production, and was executed by Geefs. Here Charles V., in 1616, held a chapter of the Golden Fleece. The restoration of this beautiful church has been carefully attended to lately, and the new windows of painted glass are very fine; but some of the old windows, by Weyde, are grand indeed.

In this church the famous sacramental wafers are placed away as relics of inestimable value. Perhaps you recollect the story of the Jews who purloined them, and profanely stuck the consecrated bread with knives; when, lo, a miracle! blood came from the incision, and the unbelievers were smitten down. Of course, they were taken, and tormented, and burnt. This was at the close of the fourteenth century. The great celebration of this Popish imposition of a miracle is kept up in July every year.

All one side of this noble building is a set of mean, low, one and two-story shanties, which deface the appearance of the venerable pile.

While in the church, we saw vast numbers of boys and girls, who had come to make their confession and prepare for their first communion, to take place next day. We often saw in the streets of Paris and Brussels girls dressed in white, with wreaths of flowers, and boys, with dresses that looked as if they were bound to a wedding; these were young people going to communion. The poor children in this church looked as funny on the occasion, sitting and chatting, waiting for their turn to confess, as the priest looked tired and indifferent.

We spent much of our leisure time walking in the noble park and gardens. O, when shall we have in America such care taken of our few green spots, in our great cities, as is here displayed? No lady can be more chary of the order of her drawing-room than are the authorities at Brussels of these beautiful promenades. Then, too, here are avenues of trees that make you in love with the city as you enter it. I do wish all our towns would raise committees of public-spirited men, who should undertake, by voluntary contributions, or town action, to plant the roadsides that form the entrances to these places. I was delighted, some months ago, to hear that a few gentlemen at Haverhill, in Massachusetts, had banded together for this purpose. Charley, if you live to take an active share in the business of life, try and do something for the place you live in that shall appear after you have gone; make the spot of your residence better, because you have once lived in it. We are too selfish; we do not fulfil our duty to those who are to come after us; we do not, even in the matters of this present state, live up to the great law of our being—"No man liveth to himself."

Leopold's Palace is exceedingly plain and unpretending for a royal residence. It was originally composed of two wings, through which a street ran its course; but they are now united by a central building, with a handsome portico, having for its support six Corinthian pillars. The edifice is about three hundred and ninety feet in length; and, while the front is on the Park, the rear opens on an extensive garden. At the opposite side of the Park is the Chamber of Representatives. In the Park, and near to the Palace, is the prettiest glen and bit of miniature wood I know of.

We found our accomplished representative, the Hon. Mr. Bayard, kind and attentive. He lives in a charming part of the city; and his position must be a pleasant one, having good society in the place, and near to Paris.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 32.


Dear Charley:—

I like this city very much—it is so clean. The buildings in the upper part of the town are new, and in pleasant contrast to the lower portion, which looks so very old. I think, from walking about a great deal, that there must be many English people here; for they carry their country in their dress and manner. We spent a morning at the various shops, and principally at the lace and print stores. We purchased some very beautiful engravings, lithographs, and illustrated works, which will remind us of our pleasant days in Brussels, and which I hope may amuse our friends. The lacework executed here is uncommonly rich, and, you know, is very famous; but, I am sorry to say, also very expensive. A person may soon get rid of large amounts of money here. We made some purchases for the ladies at home; but no doubt, if they had been with us, the bills would have been heavier than they were.

The way we manage for getting money while we are travelling is by a circular letter from Baring & Brothers. On this we are introduced to houses in the great cities through which our route lies, and the letter states our credit at London; then from these houses we obtain what we need, and have each house indorse the amount; so that, as we go from place to place, our financial position in London still appears. In Brussels we found the banker, or, at least, his agent,—for whether the banker or his clerk we did not know,—a perfect specimen of vulgarity and rudeness. He was the most uncivil fellow that we have yet seen in Europe. His most pleasant words were grunts, and his motions and attitudes were almost threats. He looked like a Jew, but he acted like a wild Arab; and his manœuvres would have been a godsend to the comic Dr. Valentine, if he had witnessed their display. His gray hairs did not command respect; and what made his rudeness so hard to bear, was the fact that nothing occurred to call it out. We probably met him at an unhappy moment.

The Museum is in the old palace of the Spanish governors of the Low Countries, and long before their day it was the ducal residence of the Brabants. The building was begun in 1346, and completed in 1502.

The pictures of Europe are one of my great objects of interest, and here we begin to find them. We have left the London and Paris collections for examination as we return. From the catalogue, we found there were about six hundred pictures here, and some statuary. The chief attraction of this gallery is found in the few early Flemish paintings which it boasts. I think a Gerard Dow will long be remembered by me. It is an interior, and the effect of the light in the room is admirable. Many of the paintings are styled Gothic; that means they were painted previous to the time of Van Eyck. An interior of the Antwerp Cathedral, by Neefs, is very fine; and I was much pleased with some large pictures by Philippe Champagne, some' of whose portraits I have seen in New York. Here are four pictures by Paul Veronese. No. 285 is the Marriage of Cana. I think I never saw a picture in which I was so impressed with the magnificence of the coloring. The table is richly spread, and the light appears on it, coming down the columns; the rich colors of the fruits contrasting strongly with the white table and gay dress of one of the figures. The management of light, by introducing various colors in the dresses, is wonderful, and the blue sky produces the happiest effect. I never before understood how much a picture depended on the arrangement of color. The drapery of this composition struck me greatly; and although I know little of great paintings, yet I do know what I like, and this picture, as a whole, seems to me wonderfully fine.

In 1695, when this town was bombarded by the French, fourteen churches were destroyed, some of which contained the best pictures of Rubens, Vandyke, and other great painters of that century. I observed here a good portrait of Henrietta, queen of Charles I., who seems to have been a favorite with painters. I have seen a score of her faces by Vandyke at Windsor, Paris, and elsewhere. This was by Mignard. All make her very beautiful.

The Adoration of the Magi, by Van Eyck, the inventor of oil painting, is curious; and a Descent from the Cross, by Hemling, who flourished about 1450, interested me. Amongst the pictures by unknown masters I saw some good ones. I thought the portraits in this class very spirited. One of Bloody Mary was quite a picture.

In this building, too, the doctor found a treat in the great Burgundy Library, where are nearly twenty thousand MSS., some of which are the most richly-illuminated vellums that are known. Some of the miniatures of the early fathers and saints are of exquisite beauty. This precious collection has twice, I learn, been stolen by the French, as were also the best pictures. The library consists of about two hundred thousand volumes. I saw some glorious specimens of Russian malachite.

You would, I am sure, Charley, hardly forgive me if I had had so little of your love of the curious as to go away from Brussels without a look at the world-renowned fountain—the Manekin. One day, when upon a tramp, we inquired it out. The dirty dog is a little bronze figure, made by the famous Duquesnoy in 1648. It stands at the corner of the Rue du Chêne and the Rue de l'Etuve. He still maintains his ground; and there seems no danger of his losing his occupation.

The Botanical Garden lies on the side of the hill leading from the city towards Antwerp, and is apparently kept in fine order. It is about six hundred and fifty yards long, and I should think nearly two hundred wide.

To-morrow we are to spend at Waterloo; and George is well nigh distracted. We have heard very little from him, since we reached Brussels, but about Napoleon, Wellington, Ney, and Grouchy. The last-named marshal finds no favor at his hands, as he regards him as a traitor to the emperor at the critical moment. One thing is certain; he knows more about the battle than most persons, and will feel quite at home when he once makes out his stand-point. We all anticipate his transports with interest. We are to start early; so good-night.



Letter 33.


Dear Charley:—

I am thoroughly tired out with a day at Waterloo; and, though I should be glad to retire at an early hour, yet, as to-morrow's mail takes all letters for the next steamer, we are all hard at the duty and pleasure of correspondence with our friends. I shall give you but a hurried account of our visit to the great battle field of Europe. We were all up early in the morning, and, after an excellent breakfast, we engaged a carriage and pair of horses for the day. The distance is about twelve miles. After riding about two miles, we found the road touched the Forest of Soignies, so well known in consequence of Byron's description of the march of the army from Brussels to Waterloo. On the way we met several guides, who commended their services to our notice, backed up by testimonials of former travellers. We selected Pirson, and he took his place beside the driver, and we arrived in two hour at the village. Passing by what is called a museum, we addressed ourselves at once to a survey of the field. There are no signs of the past, excepting in monuments and houses that are famous for their being occupied by the hostile parties during the battle. We turned our attention first to the Château of Hougomont, because, from our knowledge of the transactions of the great day, we regarded it as the grand point of attraction, and the central one for our observations. This farm is an old-looking affair, with out-buildings—a small chapel, twelve or fifteen feet long, and the garden and orchard, having a strong stone wall around them. This was the strong point of the British army; and if Napoleon could have gained it, he would have turned the flank of the enemy. To this he directed all his power, and the marks of the conflict are yet very apparent. All day the attack was made, upon the farm by thousands, under the command of Jerome Bonaparte. The wall was pierced with loopholes, and through these the English Coldstream Guards kept up a most destructive fire upon the French troops. The exterior of the wall still shows what a terrific onset was made. We went into the house, obtained some refreshment, bought some relics, and, among other things, a neat brass crucifix, which hung against the wall. We then, went to look at the farms La Belle Alliance and La Haye Sainte—the famous mound where the dead were interred, and which is surmounted by the Belgic lion. This is an immense work, two hundred feet high; and from the summit we saw the entire field. Of course, we all had our feelings excited at standing on a spot where the two greatest soldiers of Europe measured swords, and had a continent for spectators of the conflict.

When the French army marched through Waterloo, on their way to Antwerp, in 1831, they looked savagely at the Belgian monument, and one man fired his musket at the lion, and the mark is still visible upon his chin.

We were much gratified at the farm-house of Hougomont; and the hour we spent in its orchard and gardens will long be remembered by us all. I have read an account of the attack upon the house, which says, "The Belgian yeoman's garden wall was the safeguard of Europe, whose destinies hung upon the possession of this house." The garden wall is covered on the inside with ivy; and here we secured several roots of the plant, and, having bought a basket at the farm-house, we planted them in earth taken from beside the grave of a British officer, who fell in the orchard; his tombstone bears the name of J.L. Blackman. These plants will give us trouble to carry; but Dr. Choules has determined upon carrying them home for Mr. Hall, whose stone house needs ivy on the walls, and he intends obtaining roots from various places of interest in Europe, to serve as mementoes of other lands.

The church is a small affair, but is full of the testimonies of love and affection from fathers, mothers, brothers, sisters, wives, children, and friends, to those who fell in the bloody conflict.

We were annoyed by urchins, who beset our steps, eager to sell us genuine relics of the field, which are likely to increase in number as long as there is a demand for them. George, of course, was in his element, and he did little but plant the different sites in his memory, for the purpose of comparing notes, by and by, with Gleig, Headley, &c., &c.

I do not attempt to give you any thing like a description of the place, or an account of the battle, as you have books which are devoted to these points.

It is a circumstance worthy of notice that, in 1705, the Duke of Marlborough came very near fighting a battle with the French, on this ground, but was prevented by the Dutch commissioners who were with him.

We obtained some good engravings of the buildings that are famous for their connection with the battle, but they are nothing like as fine as the folio illustrated volume of colored engravings which we have so often looked over with interest. I tried to get a copy in London at any price, and would have given any thing in reason; but the work is out of print and the market, and can only be gotten at the sale of a collector.

On returning to Brussels, and enjoying our dinner at a late hour, we passed the evening in the Arcades, where we saw some beautiful goods exposed for sale, and again examined some lacework. You will smile at the idea of pocket handkerchiefs which cost from one hundred to one thousand dollars each. The embroidery of letters upon lacework is costly; and we saw single letters which had required a week's work.

We like this city, and, if time allowed us, should certainly pass a week here. I should not forget to say that we saw the king in the Park, near to his palace. He looks like a man of fifty-five, and, I thought, had a melancholy air.



Letter 34.


Dear Charley:—

In company still with our friends from Bristol on a wedding tour, we took the rail for Antwerp. The arrangements of the railroad in Belgium seem to me as perfect as they can be made. All is order, civility, and comfort. On starting for this place, we had the curiosity to inquire as to the number of passengers, and found thirteen first class, seventy-one second class, and one hundred and three third class. The road we took lay through a level country, but cultivated to a great degree; and the produce was chiefly clover, beans, potatoes, grain, and turnips. On leaving Brussels, we noticed the fine botanical gardens on our right, and the Allée Verte, a noble avenue of trees which reaches to Laeken, a pretty village, dating as far back as the seventh century, and containing a fine palace, where Leopold frequently resides. Napoleon once occupied this palace, and here it is said that he planned his Russian campaign. The park is spacious, and the village has a celebrated cemetery; and here Madame Malibran reposes. The first stopping-place is at about six miles from Brussels, at Vilvorde—a very ancient town, having a population of not quite three thousand. It is known in history as Filfurdum, and was a place of some consequence in 760. It was here that Tindal, who was the first translator of the New Testament into English, suffered martyrdom, in 1536, being burnt as a heretic. The Testament was a 12mo. edition. It was published in 1526, and probably was printed at Antwerp, where he then resided. Fifteen hundred copies were printed, and they were mostly bought up by Bishop Tonstall, and destroyed. The only copy known to exist is in the library of the Baptist College at Bristol. This copy belonged to Lord Oxford, and he valued the acquisition so highly that he settled twenty pounds a year upon the person who obtained it for him. Both Tindal's assistants in this great work—Fryth and Roye—suffered martyrdom before his death. I am sorry to find, by history, that Sir Thomas More employed one Phillips to go over to Antwerp and decoy Tindal into the hands of the emperor. The last words of the martyr were, "Lord! open the King of England's eyes." Sir Thomas More was a bitter persecutor, and he was "recompensed in his own ways." Not far from Vilvorde are the remains of the chateau of Rubens; and in the same vicinity is the house where Teniers is said to have lived. Mechlin, or Malines, is a fine-looking town, with twenty-five thousand inhabitants, and it is spelt by early writers ways without number. The railroad just touches on its skirts, and, of course, we could only look at it. Its cathedral church loomed up; and we longed to see its interior, where Vandyke's greatest picture—the Crucifixion—is found in the altar. The tower shows well at a distance. The other churches have some pictures of great merit, by Rubens. After passing Mechlin, we saw at our right a large town, lying, perhaps, two miles off, and then a still smaller one to the left, and a fine old castle, which looked in good preservation. The road led us through some fine country residences; and, just before entering Antwerp, we passed Berchem, a sweet little village. And I would not omit to say that the small place called Vieux Dieu, before we came to Berchem, is famous for being one of the last places where heathenism retained its hold in this port of Europe, and here was formerly an idol.

Antwerp—or, as the French write it, Anvers—is a noble city on the River Scheldt, and is about twenty-seven miles from Brussels. The population is rather more than eighty thousand. The city is laid out in the shape of a bow, and the river forms the string. The river here is one hundred and ninety yards wide. The tide rises about fifteen feet. This place is of very ancient origin, and its legends are mixed up with the fabulous. Early in the sixteenth century it was an important town. It was fortified, and became one of the chief places of trade for the north of Europe. In 1520, the population was over two hundred thousand. Five hundred vessels daily came into and left the port, and two thousand others were always lying in the river and basins of the port. The death blow to this place was the treaty of Munster, which stipulated that every vessel entering the Scheldt should discharge her cargo in Holland, so that it had to be conveyed to Antwerp by land. The abolition of the Spanish power was severely felt at Antwerp. You know, I suppose, that this is regarded as one of the strongest fortifications in Europe, and has been the scene of repeated sieges. The last and most celebrated one was in 1832, when it was captured by the French, after a brave defence of two months.

You cannot easily fancy what a charming old city this is; but I shall try to give you some account of it and our employments here. We put up at the Hotel St. Antoine, in the Place Verte, nearly opposite the cathedral, and it certainly is one of the best houses we have seen any where. The court yard is spacious, and has fine orange-trees around it. Our rooms are very elegant, and on the first floor. The coffee-room is admirably attended, and the table d'hôte is the best we have yet set down to. A large part of our anticipated pleasure arose from the fact that here are the great works of Rubens; and in the city of Rubens, Vandyke, Teniers, Jordaens, and Quentin Matsys, we felt that we could not be disappointed. In the Place Verte we find a colossal statue of Rubens by Geefs; and passing on a few steps, at the corner we come to the Cathedral of Notre Dame, which is so celebrated all over Europe as one of the grandest specimens of the Gothic order of architecture. There is much dispute as to the exact date of this church, but the evidence is in favor of 1422, and it is known to have been finished in 1518. This church is four hundred and sixty-six feet high, five hundred feet long, and two hundred and fifty wide. The nave is thought to be the most superb in Europe; and the side naves are double, forming two hundred and thirty arches, supported by one hundred and twenty-five magnificent pillars, and some of these are twenty-seven feet in circumference. Here Philip II., in 1555, held a chapter of the Golden Fleece, at which nineteen knights and nine sovereign princes were present. In 1559, Paul IV. made this church a cathedral; but, in 1812, Pius VII. issued a bull by which it was made dependent on the diocese of Malines. The effect of the evening sun upon the painted windows is the production of a glory which no pen can describe. Charles V. was once an actor here, for he stood godfather at the baptism of the great bell. The pulpit is carved work, and done by Verbruggen. It represents the four quarters of the world, and, though elaborate, is not as beautiful as the one in St. Gudule, at Brussels. The glory of the church is the "breathing scroll" of Rubens, so often seen upon the walls of its solemn aisles. Here is Rubens's great picture,—the Descent from the Cross. To this picture pilgrimages have been made by all the lovers of art from other lands, and all concede the grandeur of idea and the simplicity of the style. There is quite a story about this picture, in which Rubens and the crossbow-men of Antwerp both figure, but which I have no time to tell you at present. Nearly opposite is the Elevation of the Cross. The Savior's face and figure are not to be forgotten by any one who carefully gazes on this canvas. Both these pictures were carried off by the French, and also the Assumption of the Virgin, which is the high altar-piece, and were restored by the allied sovereigns in 1815. This last-named picture is said to have been executed in sixteen days, and his pay was one hundred florins a day. I like it exceedingly; and the figure of the picture is more spiritual than any other I have seen of the Virgin. Its date is 1642. I advise you to read Sir Joshua Reynolds's Lectures, where you will find a critical description of these immortal pictures.

The steeple or tower is regarded as unrivalled, and is one of the highest in the world. It is four hundred and sixty-six feet high; and from the top we could see Brussels, Ghent, Malines, Louvain, and Flushing, and the course of the Scheldt lies beautifully marked out. I hardly dare tell you how many bells there are. Our valet said ninety-nine; one local book of facts says eighty-eight; but I suppose there are eighty or ninety; and every fifteen minutes they do chime the sweetest music: Charles V. wished the exquisite tower could be kept from harm in a glass case. The tracery of this tower is like delicate lacework, and no one can imagine half its beauty. After we came down, we examined, at the base, the epitaph of Quentin Matsys, once a black-smith, and then, under the force of the tender passion, he became a painter. The iron work over the pump and well, outside the church, is his handiwork.

All round the cathedral are the finest old gabled houses I ever saw, Charley. I never tire in looking at them. They were the great houses of the time when the Duke of Alva made Antwerp the scene of his cruel despotism, and when the Inquisition carried death and misery into men's families. The oppressions of the Spaniards in this city sent many of the best manufacturers from the Low Countries to England; and Queen Elizabeth received them gladly.

Yours, &c.,


Letter 35.


Dear Charley:—

I believe the lads have told you what they have seen in Belgium; and as they are just now busily employed, I shall endeavor to tell you our doings and enjoyments for the last day in this noble old city. We have been to see St. James's Church, where the great attraction is the tomb of Rubens. The altar is exquisitely fine, and was the work of Duquesnoy. Rubens brought it from Italy. Over the tomb is the famous Holy Family, in which Rubens has introduced himself as St. George, his father as Jerome, his wives as Martha and Magdalene, his grandfather as old Time, and his son as the Angel. This wonderful creation of art was carried off by Napoleon to the Louvre, but was restored to the church in 1815. From hence we repaired to St. Paul's Church. It was built in 1679. It has a noble appearance, and retains its cloisters. In this building we noticed the Flagellation, by Rubens; Jesus bearing the Cross, by Vandyke; the Crucifixion and Resurrection, by Jordaens; and the Adoration of the Shepherds, by Rubens. As we left the church, we visited the Calvary, which is at the entrance, or, rather, off from it, at the right. It is meant to represent the place of Christ's death. There are several statues of prophets and apostles, and a sort of grotto. At the end is Mount Calvary, and the summit is the scene of the Savior's crucifixion. Beneath is the tomb, the body, and the stone rolled away; and at the left are bars and flames, and poor creatures in purgatorial fires. A more wretched-looking burlesque was never placed in the vicinage of art and the productions of genius. Popery employs such trickery unblushingly in Papal countries, but withholds their exhibition from the common sense of England and America, waiting till our education shall fit us for the simple, unalloyed system of delusion.

We find the number of priests in Belgium much greater than in France. We see them in the cars, at the stations, and in every street. At one station, on our way to Antwerp, we saw a most strangely-dressed man. He wore a cloak, and the cape formed a sort of hat. His head was shaved, and his feet were bare. We learnt that he was a monk of La Trappe. He was as noble a looking man as I have seen in Europe.

We devoted the morning to the Museum, which is so famous for containing the richest productions of Rubens, Vandyke, Jordaens, and a host of other great Flemish artists. As we entered, we saw, with interest, the chair of Rubens, which he used in his studio. It bears his name, and the date of 1638. It is in a glass case. Rubens has sixteen pictures here, of high character, and Vandyke several. We were all delighted with No. 215—a Dead Christ on a stone table, and the Virgin mourning at his side. No. 212 is a wonderful composition—Christ crucified between the Thieves. The look of the dying penitent at his Savior is not to be forgotten. The Magdalene of this picture is a creation of beauty indeed. I have purchased a fine engraving of this picture, and several others by Rubens, and I hope, by looking at them long, to retain the impression I had made on my mind as I gazed upon the originals. No. 221—the Trinity—is a profane and ungracious representation of a Dead Christ in the arms of a stern old man, who is intended for the Father. This picture is wonderfully fine, as regards the foreshortening of the dead body; and I never saw such an exhibition in this respect. No. 218—- Christ showing his Wounds to Thomas—is fine; but the picture has suffered from damp.

Quentin Matsys has several of his productions here, and we looked with interest at a fine Sir Thomas More, by Holbein; the Flight into Egypt, by Memling; Mater Dolorosa, by Albert Durer; and many interiors, by Flemish artists. I was greatly pleased with No. 382—the Death of Rubens, by Van Brée, who died in 1839. This is large, and I think a most effective picture. The two sons, the priest, the wife fainting, and the two scribes, are admirably disposed; and the open window, through which the cathedral spire is seen, seems to me exceedingly clever; but I fancy I admired it more than artists have done. On leaving this noble collection, we stopped at St. Andrew's Church to see a portrait of Mary, Queen of Scots, over a monument to the two Ladies Curl, one of whom waited on her at her execution at Fotheringay Castle. After dinner we sallied out to see the Exchange, or Bourse, and from which the first London one was copied. Of course, this gave it an interest to us, as we could fancy we saw the royal building in which Queen Bess made such a display, and of which Gresham had so much reason to be proud. It is a piazza of iron arches and granite pillars, surrounding a square two hundred feet long by one hundred and sixty wide. It was built in 1531.

On returning home, we accidentally met with Mr. Vesey, the American consul. He invited us to his drawing-room, and we had a very pleasant half hour. But when he found we were to leave next day, he insisted on taking us to the outskirts and showing us the citadel and fortifications. In a few minutes he had us in a carriage, and became our kind and efficient guide till the loss of daylight rendered it useless to look around. I think we shall never forget the very great attention and friendship which we all met with from this gentleman; and I was gratified to hear him say that here, in Europe, nothing seemed to interest him in relation to mere party strife at home; while the honor and union of the country seemed to him all and every thing. Mr. Vesey has a good library and some fine paintings. He is a man of taste, and marked by energy of character; and is just such a representative of his country as she needs at such points as Antwerp and other large cities.

Yours truly,


Letter 36.


Dear Charley:—

I assure you we felt sorry to leave Antwerp; it is such a thoroughly fine old place, has so much of old Spanish history still bound up with its present aspect, and is so decidedly foreign in its appearance, language, &c. I have only time left to say a word about the docks of Antwerp, which were a favorite project of Napoleon Bonaparte. They were constructed at an enormous outlay; and the emperor expected to make this place the great rival of London. At the peace of 1814, the dock yards were demolished; but the great basins still exist, and are used for purposes of commerce. They are useful in winter, to preserve vessels from the ice which floats in the Scheldt.

It was a lovely morning when, having parted with our English friends, who proceeded to Bruges, we entered on board an iron steamer for a passage of about eight hours to Rotterdam. The boat was neat and clean, though small, and the cabin was adorned with baskets and pots of flowers of various kinds. The view of the city and its fortifications was fine, as the boat receded from the shore. On our way we passed Dort, one of the finest towns of Holland, and from appearances, I think, one of much trade. Its population is twenty thousand. Here, in 1618, was held the famous Synod of Dort, the great labor of which was to settle the claims of the rival systems of Calvin and Arminius. At this synod, Bishop Hall was a delegate from the English church; and he, good man, never dreamed of denying the validity of the ordination of his brethren in that council. We felt interested, as we sailed along this town, in remembering that here, in 1421, seventy-two villages and more than one hundred thousand persons were drowned by the incursion of water from the dike. The river stretches far away, and looks much like a lake.

If any one looks at the face of the country, he will at once understand why these regions have been termed the Low Countries. We passed, as you may see on the map, Gravendeel, Willeinstadt, and the far-famed fortress of Bergen op Zoom, which is one of the strongest places in Holland. You know that Antwerp stood a long siege in 1831, when it suffered severely; and, as we passed Fort St. Laurent, we were pointed out the spot where a most gallant occurrence happened at that time. A gun boat, belonging to Holland, got on shore, and the Belgians hastened to capture her, when her captain, a young man named Van Speyk, rushed into the magazine, put his cigar upon an open keg of powder, and, in the explosion, perished, with twenty-eight of his crew out of thirty-one. He was an orphan, who had been educated at Amsterdam. He has a fine monument next to Admiral De Ruyter's, and a fine ship of the Dutch navy bears his name. On board our boat we found two young gentlemen, of about fifteen or sixteen, belonging to Rotterdam, who were going home for vacation.. They are pupils at a boarding school in Brussels. They spoke English very well, and gave us a great deal of pleasing information. The dinner on the boat was very excellent. On reaching Rotterdam, we merely rode through it to take the cars for the Hague. It is a fine-looking town, has seventy-five thousand inhabitants, and some noble East Indiamen were lying at the wharves. Many of the houses were like those at Antwerp, and told a Spanish origin. I here noticed looking-glasses at the windows, so that any one in the parlor can see the reflection up and down the streets. I was glad to be able to see the bronze statue of Erasmus, who was born here in 1467. We were delayed by the absence of the authorities to sign our passports, but were in time to reach the ears, and then started for the Hague, which is thirteen miles from Rotterdam; and we were forty minutes on the way. The road is excellent. We passed through Delft, and here we could not fail to admire the gardens and country-houses. It was dark as we entered the town; and we took up our quarters at the Doelen, which is a name indicating that archers have resorted thither. Whoever goes to this house will be sure to do well. We obtained capital rooms. Early next morning we called on Mr. George Folsom, our chargé d'affaires. This gentleman is an old friend of mine; and he gave us a most cordial welcome, taking entire possession of our party for the day. Mr. Folsom resides in very handsome style upon the Voorhout, the best street of the city, and which, like every other part of the place, is adorned with noble trees. It seems strange to call this place a city, it is so thoroughly rural in its appearance. It hardly shows like a town of sixty-five thousand people on account of being concealed in shrubbery, cut up by canals, and overshadowed with forest-trees.

Very early in the day we were kindly provided with carriages, and taken to Scheveningen, a village about three miles off. Our road lay through a fine avenue of trees. This is a great fishing-place, and a great watering-place. It has a large hotel, which we went to for lunch. It is the great rendezvous of the fashionable part of society in Germany during the heat of summer. We could not help drawing a contrast between Scheveningen and Newport, and not much to the advantage of the Dutch beach. This spot has some celebrity, as the port whence Charles II. embarked for England at his restoration. On our way back we saw the residence of the queen dowager, sister to the Emperor of Russia, and of whom Mr. Folsom speaks highly, as a very excellent and sensible lady. Mrs. Folsom and the ladies of our party had visited the queen the day before. The house looked quite snug, and very unpretending. On returning, we at once repaired to the Museum, which is supposed to be, in many respects, the finest in Europe. Here, too, is the famous picture gallery, in which are the best productions of the Flemish and Dutch schools. You are aware that Holland has had extensive trade with China and Japan, through her colonies; hence the richness of this museum, which, so far as Japan is concerned, is unrivalled. I have a catalogue of this wonderful collection, and to that I must refer you; for, as to description of what I saw, it would be impossible to tell you a hundredth part. The Oriental curiosities are very rich and fine. A plan of Jeddo, the capital of Japan, is very curious—made by natives. The historical treasures are rich and numerous. Here we saw the armor of De Ruyter, and that of Van Tromp, well scored with bullets; the sword of Van Speyk; a part of Czar Peter's bed; the dress of William of Orange when he was murdered at Delft; the pistol and bullets by which he fell, &c., &c. We all expected much pleasure from the gallery of paintings, and I believe we experienced no disappointment; and how could we, with such treasures of art and genius? Here we noticed with most interest Rembrandt's Surgeon and Pupils dissecting a dead Body. This is No. 127. The body is admirable, and the legs are thrown into shadow. The portraits are lifelike. The portraits of Rembrandt's wives are fine specimens of coloring. No. 123 is the world-renowned Bull, by Paul Potter. The glory of this work is its minute adherence to nature. The leaves and plants, and every appearance of vegetation, impresses the spectator with the idea of reality. This was carried off to the Louvre, although the Dutch offered twenty thousand pounds sterling to redeem it. I liked the pictures of De Ruyter and Van Tromp; but the treat of all to me was the show of small Dutch pictures, by Gerard Dow, thirty-five in number; a Battle Field and Hay Cart, by Wouvermans, and many others from his studio; Flight into Egypt, by Vanderwerp; Fruits and Flowers, by Breughels; Interiors of Cottages, by A.V. Ostades; a Kitchen, by Teniers; and a very large Hunting-piece by Snyders, whom I greatly admire. As to portraits, they are in any number, and some are very fine. One of Laurence Coster, by Durer, is curious.

We went to see the late King's Palace, and here we found only the relics of the splendid gallery which was once to be seen. An auction had recently disposed of more than half the paintings. The late monarch was a man of taste, but had sadly involved himself in its gratification. Many of the paintings here are exceedingly fine, and will be disposed of in a public sale next October. After leaving this palace, we went with Mr. Folsom to see the Brimenhoff. This is the place where the Dutch parliament meets. We went into the second chamber and heard the debates, which were not very edifying. The appearance of the members was very much like that of a New England assembly of legislators.

The fine Gothic Hall here is said to be the oldest building in the city. It was on a scaffolding in front of it that Barneveldt, the grand pensionary of Holland, was beheaded, in 1618, at the age of seventy-two. We also saw the gateway of the tower in which Cornelius De Witt was confined, in 1672, on the ridiculous charge of conspiracy against the Prince of Orange. The populace feared his acquittal, and they by a manœuvre induced his brother John De Witt, the grand pensionary, to visit him in prison. They then broke in, dragged them forth, and tore them to pieces under the gateway. We went to look at De Witt's residence, which is plain and unpretending.

I do wish you could have been with us in our ride through the Bosch, a fine park of forest-trees near to the town. The forest never looked more pleasant to me than here. May is a sweet month, and especially when, with all her verdant beauty, she is just about to rush into the arms of June. We all talked of you in the charming drive, and Mr. Folsom made kind inquiries after you. On reaching home, we went with our kind guide to see the house which was occupied by John Adams when he was at this court negotiating a treaty with Holland in aid of our independence.

We are to spend to-morrow and next day at Harlem, on our way to Amsterdam; and the boys will tell you what we see there.

Affectionately yours,


Letter 37.


Dear Charley:—

In order that we might enjoy an opportunity to hear the great organ at Harlem to advantage, Mr. Folsom advised us to spend a Sabbath day there, which we did, in company with his family. We took the rail to Leyden, ten miles. Here we saw the Dunes, or Sand Hills, which guard the Dutch coast, and which are from one to four miles in width, and are from thirty to fifty feet high. These immense piles would soon be scattered by the strong winds if they were not regularly sown with reed grass, the roots of which often spread from twenty to thirty feet, binding the banks, and the decayed vegetation furnishing good soil for potatoes. The existence of Holland and its population is only insured by perpetual strife maintained against the sea and winds of heaven. We could not look at Leyden and forget that the Pilgrim Fathers of New England were once exiles at this place. They called it a "goodly and pleasant city," and here they spent twelve years; and we looked at the scenery with interest as we thought of their wanderings, and how much preparation was expended in establishing the glorious foundations of our own New England. The city has about forty thousand inhabitants. Its University is still famous, and the hall of the institution is rich in portraits of the great and good. The Museum of Natural History is very large, and is quite curious in Oriental and Egyptian relics. In Japanese curiosities, the Dutch museums are far more affluent than any others of Europe, as they maintain almost exclusive traffic with Japan.

The history of Leyden is very interesting. In 1573-4, this town suffered an awful siege from the Spaniards for four months, and lost more than five thousand inhabitants by war and famine. At last the elements conspired in their favor, and an incursion of the sea destroyed the Spaniards and brought succor to the Dutch. Rembrandt the painter was born at Leyden, in a wind mill. By the way, there are literally thousands of wind mills in this country, and some of them are very pretty objects. The sails of these mills are immensely large, and I think I saw some that were quite one hundred feet long. Many of the best men of England have studied at Leyden; and if you read the lives of Evelyn and Goldsmith, you will find they were much attached to this place. Boerhaave, the great physician, was a professor here, and go were Arminius and his rival Gomarus. Gerard Dow or Douw, Jan Steen, and Vandervelde, the artists, were born here. Near Leyden the Rhine enters the sea, by the aid of a canal and sluice gates; and here are great salt works, carried on by evaporation. From Leyden we took the rail to Harlem, eighteen miles; and we found the road very good, and the first-class cars perfectly luxurious. We noticed on our right hand the Warmond Catholic Seminary for Popish priests, and saw the young men in large numbers, walking about. The road runs through a sandy tract of country, and much of it is made land. Approaching Harlem, we found the cottages and country-houses very numerous and exceedingly pretty; and we were pointed to the castle of the unfortunate Jacqueline, whose history, you know, has been so charmingly written by our friend Mr. T.C. Grattan. We made our home at the Golden Lion, and found the place comfortable and very thoroughly Dutch. The landlady is a brisk, bustling body, and speaks English tolerably well. Harlem has about twenty-fire thousand inhabitants. On Sunday morning we went to the Church of St. Bavon. We found a large congregation, and they sung most heartily. The dominie had a cocked hat hanging up behind him in the pulpit; and he was, beyond doubt, a very eloquent man. The great organ, built in 1738, was long deemed the organ of Europe, but is now supposed to be excelled at Friburg. We heard it during service several times, and in a voluntary. It unquestionably is an instrument of great sweetness as well as power. It has five thousand pipes. The church is lofty, and looks plain enough after what we have seen in Antwerp. Of course, we went to see the statue of Coster, who is said to have been the inventor of printing in 1420-28, twelve years before Guttemberg made his experiments. The Dutch are strong advocates for their inventor; but I think evidence in favor of metal type lies with the man of Mayence.

You may be sure that, when we were so fortunate as to be here early in June, we did not fail to go into the nurseries and gardens, and see the hyacinths, tulips, narcissuses, anemones, ranunculuses, &c. We went to the extensive grounds of Mr. Krelage, the first florist of Holland, No. 146 Kleine Houtweg; and here we were greatly delighted. The tulips were exceedingly fine, and under cover they receive as much attention as if they were babies. The hyacinths surpassed in beauty and variety any thing we are accustomed to. I noticed a double blue, called Gloria Mundi; Van Speyk, L'Importante, same color; Goethe, double yellow; L'Eclair, crimson; and Emicus, white, which were particularly beautiful. But we were all, perhaps, most pleased with the extensive beds of anemones and ranunculuses, which rarely do well in our hot climate, and here flourish in a humid atmosphere. Certainly they are the prettiest flowers I ever saw; but they lack perfume. Here we saw them by thousands. The exquisite order and condition of these large gardens pleased us much. The young gentleman who kindly devoted three hours to us spoke English well, and was very courteous and attentive. I have brought away a catalogue of the flowers, with the prices. The soil of Harlem is every where a deep sand, and every thing appears to flourish.

The vicinage of this place is very pleasant; and we rode for two hours through a noble wood, fringed with sweet villas, and made a visit to a palace built by the great banker, Hope, of Amsterdam, and which was the residence of King Louis Bonaparte. It is now a picture gallery, and contains some good historical pictures, and many fine small ones, of the best artists of Holland. I think the boys forgot to tell you that, at the Hague, we found the annual exhibition of paintings by the living artists of Holland, just opened, and the treat was very great. It is quite clear that the art is not lost here, and that rare excellence is still to be found among the Dutch painters. We were all delighted with a picture of Charles IX. of France, and his surgeon, Ambrose Paré. The time is just before the Bartholomew massacre; and Catharine is in the room, plotting with her wretched son. Some of the portraits were remarkable productions, and evince a power rarely seen in this department. Some of the interiors of houses and churches were quite in the style of Ostade, Neefs, and Gerard Dow. A picture of the Virgin, and Jesus and John, by Schwartze, of Amsterdam, received general praise. Of this artist I shall have more to say.

The great Lake of Harlem, which is thirty miles in circumference, is to be drained; and for several years operations have been in progress to this end. The immense works employed for this purpose are worthy of notice.

After leaving Harlem, and taking leave of our kind friend the minister at the Hague, with his amiable family, we again entered the cars, and, after riding twelve miles, reached Amsterdam. The chief feature on the way was the everlasting wind mill, employed here to grind wheat, &c. We went to the Hotel Doelen, and found it all that Mr. Folsom had said. This is a great city, of two hundred and twenty-five thousand inhabitants. The canals are immense affairs, and the ships and vessels of all sorts give it a very active appearance. All round the city is a wide fosse; and there are four great canals inside, with many minor cuts. Some of these canals are more than one hundred and twenty-five feet wide, and are edged with very fine houses; and the intercourse of the city is kept up by some two hundred and fifty bridges. The city is about eight miles round. Every one seems actively employed.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 38.


Dear Charley:—

The next morning after reaching this fine, but queer city, we called on the American consul, and he gave us a very friendly reception. He is quite a young man, but seems to be full of energy. At his house we met a Mr. J. G. Schwartze, a native of Philadelphia, but who came to Holland very young, and has made this city his residence. He is highly distinguished as an artist; and we saw a fine production of his at the exhibition at the Hague. Mr. Schwartze is a charming companion—full of enthusiasm; and when he found that I was fond of pictures, he at once volunteered to be our guide to the galleries here; and in all our movements here our kind friend has been with us. The most imposing building here is the Stadhuis, or Palace. It was finished in 1655, and used to be the seat of the town councils. Louis Bonaparte used it as his residence; and the king occupies it when he comes here. The marble hall is esteemed one of the noblest rooms in Europe, and is one hundred and twenty feet long, fifty-seven wide, and nearly one hundred feet high. From the top of this building you get a capital view of the town, cut up into artificial islands by the intersection of canals, &c. In this building is much fine statuary, and a few historical paintings.

The churches are large, but look barn-like. The organ of the old church is very rich in its decorations; and here, as at Harlem, men sit in church with their hats on, if they choose. The clergy wear a short, black cloak, and deep white ruffs on the neck. The Jews are quite numerous, and have several synagogues. They live mostly in one part of the city. I do not think we shall any of us forget our visit to the picture gallery at Amsterdam. Our attention was directed by Mr. S. to the best paintings, and the particular merits of the artists were kindly explained to us. The sight of a great picture is an event; and I think that the day on which I first saw Rembrandt's Night Watch will long be regarded by me with pleasurable feelings. It is a company of archers, who are going out with their captain. The lights and shades are wonderfully introduced. The City Guards of Amsterdam, by Vanderhelst, is a large picture, with twenty-five portraits, and is esteemed as the finest portrait picture in the world. But my favorite here is a small picture called the Night School, by Gerard Dow. I would cheerfully go a hundred miles on foot to see such a picture. The management of the lights upon the interior and figures is beyond any thing I have imagined. His Hermit and Crucifix is another gem. The picture of Officers plundered by Peasants, by Wouvermans, and several landscapes of his, are still in my mind's eye; and several pictures by the two Ostades, Teniers, and Both are quite sufficient to make me understand how it is that some men have found such fascination in collecting a gallery. The best specimens of Jan Steen are in this city, and his Fête of St. Nicholas would take wonderfully well with our good old Knickerbockers at home. A Landscape, with cattle and figures, by Albert Cuyp, is strikingly beautiful; and how I wish you could see a Fat Boy, the son of a burgomaster, by Bartholomew Helst, dated 1648. Vandyke, whose portraits have never been equalled, has some of his best in this museum; and his Burgomaster of Antwerp, Vander Brocht, is as bold a picture as you could wish to gaze at.

Hondekoeter's flowers and fruits, and Snyder's game pieces, are among the best of their kind in the world. Some of the finest things I have seen in Holland, in the way of painting, are the little gems descriptive of life as it lay about the artist—interiors of domestic abodes, and out-door scenes at the roadside. These, the patient, plodding Dutchmen have worked up most elaborately. One or two of Nicholas Maes's pictures are wonderful. I saw one in a private collection, and it was a glorious thing, though only a Kitchen, with two or three figures. O, how poor are the things we often hear spoken of as fine pictures! The eye, it seems to me, obtains its education rapidly in such a gallery as this. I am sure I shall look at works of art in future with new feelings.

There was a most beautiful Jew boy, about eleven years old, that used to stand at our hotel door to sell matches, who regularly beset us with his wares. His face was as striking as any fancy picture you can meet with, and his beauty and impudence made him a pretty successful merchant.

Mr. Schwartze took us to a noble mansion belonging to a merchant prince, to see his great picture of Columbus before the Council explaining his theory. This is a first-class execution. The coloring is very fine, and the drawing good; and we all felt pride in seeing such a picture from the easel of our countryman. I wish we had some good painting of his in America. His portraits are excellent, and one of his wife has earned him his high reputation in Holland. Through the kindness of this gentleman we were introduced to the Artists' Club, and spent our evenings there in very pleasant society. The artists belonging to it are probably about fifty, and the other gentlemen who mainly support it are about two hundred. I was much surprised to find nearly every gentleman we were introduced to speaking excellent English. We met here a very gentlemanly and accomplished lawyer, Mr. Van Lennep, whose father is a man of great wealth. His attentions were very friendly. While here, James was quite poorly with some slight attack of fever; and both our friends and the consul were unremitting in their services.

The water is very poor; rain water is valuable indeed. The best drinking water is brought from Utrecht in stone demijohns. The bad water is often used, however, flavored with Schiedam. We saw several of the floating-houses, in which whole families reside, and carry articles from place to place. The herring fishery, in its season, is a great matter in the commerce of Amsterdam. Every thing here impresses the stranger with the idea of activity, wealth, and great comfort; and I fancy that a person would very soon become attached to the city as a place of residence. To-morrow, if James is better, we resume our journey, and start for Cologne.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 39.


Dear Charley:—

We are strangely favored with weather; every day is fine; and we begin to think that the climate has been abused, for we have had an uninterrupted spell of bright, sunny weather. We started, after breakfast, for our journey to Cologne, and took the oars for Utrecht, which is twenty-three miles from Amsterdam. Our road was not one of much interest, beyond the pretty gardens of the suburban residences. Breukelen and Maarsen we thought pleasant little places. Utrecht is a large town, and has, I think, nearly sixty thousand inhabitants; and of these, one half are Catholics. It is rather on an ascent, and so is unlike any other place we have seen in Holland. The place is famous for the treaty of 1713. Here is a university, and some very fine private residences; and the fortifications have been laid out in fine walks. The Mall, or public walk, is a noble avenue of trees,—limes, I think,—and they are in six or eight rows. In this place is a cathedral, which we only saw. From its tower is the best view of the country; and it is said you can see more than twenty towns from it.

From Utrecht we continued, by railroad, to Arnheim, a distance of thirty-three miles; and we saw more forest-trees than we had before noticed. In the cars were several Catholic priests, who smoked incessantly. Arnheim is on the banks of the Rhine, and is a pretty little place, of about sixteen thousand inhabitants. We were, of course, reminded by Dr. C. that here Sir Philip Sidney died, in 1586, of his wound received in the battle of Zutphen. The entire vicinity seemed to us a delightful spot, and we have seen no place where the houses appear so English and American. The scenery is very attractive; and we would have liked to stay over a day, but the steamer for Ruhrort was ready to start, and we had only time to get our tickets and go on board. We found a neat, comfortable boat, and met pleasant society. The Rhine here is bounded by flat shores, and has no points of interest, and affords no promise of what it is so soon to be. We entered Prussia at Lobith, and had a very thorough examination of our trunks by officers who came on board. At Wesel—a town, I think, of some twelve thousand inhabitants, and having a very strong fortress—we stopped half an hour, and a crowd came round the boat. Rapin, who wrote the History of England, lived here while engaged in the task. How singular it is that all the histories of England, of any note, have been written by men not born in England! They have been French, Scotch, Irish, &c. We reached Ruhrort in the afternoon, and left the boat. This is the great central depot where the coal of the Ruhr is deposited. Here we crossed in a ferry boat, rode a mile or two in an omnibus, and then took the cars for Cologne, after waiting some hour or two, in consequence of a delay—the first we have met with on any railroad on the continent. It was dark when we passed through Dusseldorf; and we felt sorry not to stay here and see the water-color drawings that remain in this collection, once so famous; but we were told at Paris that the best of the drawings and pictures have gone to Munich. In the cars we met a gentleman and his lady who were evidently Americans. We entered into conversation, and found they were from Nashville, Tennessee. They bad been travelling very extensively in Europe, and had been through Egypt, crossed the desert, and visited Syria and the Holy City. I quite respected a lady, Charley, who had travelled hundreds of miles upon a camel. The journey had been very beneficial to her health. We reached Cologne at about ten o'clock, after crossing over a bridge of boats fourteen hundred feet long, and went to the Hotel Holland, on the banks of the river, and found it a very good house, with a grand view of the Rhine; and the chambers are as good as can be desired. Few places are more fruitful in the reminiscences which they furnish than this old city. Cologne has a Roman origin, and was settled by a colony sent by Nero and his mother, who was born here, in her father's camp, during the war. It still retains the walls of its early fortifications, built as long ago as the twelfth and thirteenth centuries. In Cologne Caxton lived, in 1470, and learnt the new art of printing, which he carried to England and introduced there. Its present population is about ninety thousand, having increased latterly, and, no doubt, will rapidly increase, in consequence of its connection with Paris, Strasburg, Berlin, Antwerp, and other cities, by railroads.

We turned our steps very early to the Cathedral, and here we expected nothing less than a treat; but much as we had heard of it, and often as the doctor had described it, we found it far beyond all our anticipations. The church was commenced in 1248, and is still far from completed. It is always thought to be one of the grandest Gothic piles in the world. The name of the architect is not known. Gerhard is the earliest builder whose name is associated with this church, in 1252. The plan was to build the two towers five hundred feet high; but the loftiest has only attained the height of about one hundred and eighty-five feet. Much of the external work is in decay; but great pains and cost have been given to repair the stone work, and the work is going on with vigor and success. It is supposed that it will require three millions of dollars to carry out the design. The form of the church is a cross, and "the arches are supported by a quadruple row of sixty-four columns; and, including those of the portico, there are more than one hundred. The four columns in the middle are thirty feet in circumference, and each of the one hundred columns is surmounted by a chapiter different from the others." On one tower still exists the old crane which raised the stones that came from Drachenfels. The only part of the cathedral yet finished is the choir. This is one hundred and sixty-one feet high; and, whether you look at it outside, or gaze on its interior, you are lost in admiration. The stained windows are really beyond all others I have seen. All round the choir stand colossal statues of the Apostles, the Virgin, and the Savior. In a chapel not far from the altar is the renowned shrine of the Three Kings, or Magi, who came from the East with gifts to the infant Savior. These bones once rested at Milan; but Frederic Barbarossa, in 1162, gave them to an archbishop of Cologne. So here they are in a case, silver gilt, and arcades on pillars all round; and, inside the pillars, little gold prophets and apostles. The jewelry at this shrine has been formerly valued at six millions of francs; but in some of its transportations in troublous times, it has met with spoliations; but it is still radiant with gold and pearls, and gems of all descriptions. The restoration of the shrine is going on, and costly offerings are frequently made in aid of the undertaking. The skulls of these worthies are crowned with gold, and look ghastly enough, in spite of diamonds and rubies. Their names are Caspar, Melchior, and Balthasar. We paid a heavy fee to see the rare show; but it is well enough to understand the mummery that there is in the world. We went the entire round of the little chapels, and saw some fine monuments to the great ones of church and state. I was much pleased with a bronze statue of Archbishop Conrad, of Hocksteden, who died in 1261, and some exceedingly old paintings. We also saw the library and sacristy, and the sacred vestments, some of which were splendid enough. Here we saw a bone of St. Matthew some saint's shrine in silver, and the state cross of the archbishop, with several of the very finest ivory carvings that we have fallen in with. A look at the vast workshop where the stone carvings for restoration are made was quite interesting.

While wandering through the aisles of the Cathedral, we met with a very pleasant family from New York; and, after introduction, we agreed to make the passage of the Rhine together; and, as there are young people in the party, this will be very agreeable to us. We have rather a limited time to pass here, and so have concluded to neglect the Virgin's bones, at St. Ursula's Church, of which we have read all the legends. Men and women trained up to worship these odds and ends are the people who are flocking by thousands to our country; and there is a great deal for such folks to learn before they will value and understand our privileges. We next turned our steps to St. Peter's Church, where Rubens was baptized; and we saw the brass font, which is still there, and also his father's tomb. It was to this church that the great painter presented his famous Crucifixion of Peter, which he thought the best he ever painted; but artists differ with him in this estimate. The picture now exposed to view is only a copy, which was made in Paris when the original was in the Louvre; but the man in charge turns the picture, which is on a pivot, and you have the original before you. Peter's head is very fine, and much more striking than the rest of the body. The little garden in the cloisters of this church is very sweet, and there are some good bits of sculpture. The beautiful Church of the Apostles we could not see, excepting outside, and its appearance is quite singular. The styles of architecture I thought strangely mixed up. Of course, we got some cologne water at the genuine fountain head in Julich's Place; and in the evening we made an examination of a curiosity shop, where we found a fine old engraving of Rubens's head, and two excellent engravings of Ostades's interiors. They are gems in their way, and, though very old, are perfect. We saw the house where the unfortunate Queen of France died, in 1644, respecting whose last days so interesting a fiction has been written; and we were told that it was also the very house in which Rubens was born. At all events, it is a very plain establishment for such celebrity as it possesses. We have also seen a military review here; but the discipline was poor, and only the music good.

A gentleman here from America, engaged in the wine trade, has amused us all by his facts in relation to champagne, which is here manufactured in large quantities, and is fabricated from a mixture of some ten or twelve different wines. A very superior brand is the result, which the good people of America will pay well for, with an appropriate brand duly furnished to order.

On the roof of our hotel is a sort of room, or garden, called the Belvedere. In it are a variety of fine plants, in healthy condition. The roses were very fragrant. The view across the river from this place is charming; and the village of Deutz looks prettily, with its large hotel and plenty of smaller houses of resort. To-morrow we go up the Rhine; and we are all hoping for a fine day, and then we expect a pleasant one.

Yours truly,


Letter 40.


Dear Charley:—

It was on the Rhine that we all wanted you with us, and other friends, too, who were far away. This is no common, every-day stream, but one whose name and renown have been associated with ten thousand pages of history, song, and legend. We have read of the Rhine, listened to its songs, drank its wines, dreamed of its craggy, castled banks,—and at last we found ourselves upon its waters, rushing down from their homes in Alpine steeps and regions of eternal snow. The deposits of this river have made Holland what she is; and the rich plains of the Low Countries have been formed by the alluvial deposits of this noble river. The enthusiasm of the Germans towards this stream is well known. They call it Father Rhine, and King Rhine; and well may they be proud of its beauty and its historic fame. We took our passage in a fine steamer, on a lovely morning, and it took us about eight hours to reach Coblentz. Leaving Cologne, we passed an old tower on the edge of the river, and, for some miles, the prospect was every day enough; and it was not till we approached Bonn that we were much impressed with the banks. We passed several villages, which appeared to have pleasant localities. I name only Surdt, Urfel, Lulsdorf, and Alfter. Bonn is an old city, of Roman date, and has figured largely in the wars of the Rhine. Its population is about sixteen thousand. Bonn has a minster, which shows itself finely to the voyager on the river, and is a Gothic structure of the twelfth century. The University here is famous for its library, and the great names formerly associated with this institution—Schlegel and Niebuhr. Both filled chairs in the college. Prince Albert was educated at this place. Beethoven was born here. If we could have spent a day at the Seven Mountains, I should have been glad; but we were only able to look at them. They vary in height from one thousand and fifty to fourteen hundred and fifty-three feet. The most picturesque of the group is Drachenfels; and the beautiful lines of Byron you will recollect, where he speaks of "the castled crag of Drachenfels." From this place the stone was taken for the Cathedral at Cologne. The summits of these seven mountains are crested with ruined castles. Their sides are well wooded, and around them are spread fruitful vineyards. You know how famous they are in the legendary lore of the Rhine. The view from Drachenfels is said to be one of the finest on the river. After leaving Bonn and the ruins of Godesberg, we soon came to Rolandseck, a lofty eminence, where are the remains of a baronial fortress and a celebrated ruin of an arch. I should judge that the access to this place was by a charming road. The ruins of Rolandseck are immortalized by the ballad of Schiller. Tradition relates that the castle was destroyed by the Emperor Henry V., in the twelfth century. At the foot of the mountain is the sweet little Island of Nonnenwörth, of about one hundred acres, and the ruins of a convent. The rock here is basaltic, and the production of volcanic action. Never did Nature present a fairer picture than we gazed upon at this spot. The villages around are pictures of happiness and content, and the scenery such as only the Rhine can exhibit. Passing by the charming, rural-looking Oberwinter, we soon came upon a woody height, where stands the Gothic Church of St. Apollinarisberg. Here is, or was, the saint's head; and it was formerly a shrine of great resort. Close by is the little tower Of Remagen, and opposite are basaltic rocky heights of six or eight hundred feet, on the sides of which are vineyards—the vines growing in baskets filled with earth and placed in the crevices of the rocks. No square foot of soil seems to be wasted; and, to improve the ground, you will find the plots for vines laid out like potato patches,—some running this way, and others that,—making the sides of the hills and banks look very much like basket work.

We now came, on our left hand, to the ruins of Okenfels and the pretty town of Linz. The ruins are very dark, and look as if they were past redemption; whereas, some of these castles retain fine outlines. The red roofs of the town are in pleasing contrast with the green woods. This town seemed quite a business place; and I noticed several sloops and queer-looking vessels at the piers. On the opposite side the Aar falls into the Rhine. Just back is a town called Sinzig, and story tells that here Constantine and Maxentius fought the battle which resulted in the downfall of paganism. Here it was that, the evening previous, Constantine saw in the heavens the figure of a cross, with the inscription, "Εν τουτω νικα." But other legends give the battle place on the banks of the Tiber.

We were all pleased with a beautiful, modern, castellated building, erected out of the ruins of an ancient castle, of which a single venerable tower remains at a small distance. The name is the Castle of Reineck. It was built for Professor Bethman Holweg, of Bonn, and he reads his lines in pleasant places. It must have cost much money to rear such an edifice. Nearly opposite are the ruins of Hammerstein Castle, where, in 1105, Henry IV. found an asylum. We next came to Andernach. This is an ancient city, and here you see towers and ruins standing amidst a wide amphitheatre of basaltic mountains. The place is spoken of by various old historians, and under several names. The great trade of the place is in millstones, which find their way even to America. Here is a celebrated Roman arched gate; but the lancet form would indicate a later date. On our left, we came to a pleasantly-situated town, called Neuwied, with some five thousand inhabitants. The streets lie wide; the houses looked bright, and very much like those in an American town. Here is a Moravian settlement. On our right is a cheerful little place, called Weisenthurm, and an ancient tower stands near it. It is said that here the Romans first made the crossing of this river. This was the spot where General Hoch passed in 1797; and on a height, at this village, is a monument to celebrate Hoch's achievement. Here we met with an enormous raft; and I assure you, Charley, it was a sight. We had seen two or three small ones before, but here was a monster. These rafts come from the woods on the tributary rivers—the Moselle, Neckar, Maine, &c. These prodigious flotillas are bound to Dordrecht, and are there broken up. This one looked like a town. It had at least twenty-five huts, and some of them tolerably large shanties; and I should think there were all of three hundred and fifty persons upon it. On the raft were women, children, cows, pigs, and sheep. This one was thought to be seven hundred feet long and two hundred wide, at the least. On our left, as we ascended the river, we now saw Sain and Mühlhofen, just at the point where two small rivers enter the Rhine; and on a hill top are the ruins of a castle of the Counts of Sain. Farther up is the quiet-looking hamlet of Engers; and we pass the islands of Niederwörth and Graswörth. On the former is a ruined convent, founded in 1242, and a population of nearly seven hundred. They seem to have a fine old church. I very much admired the village of Kesselhein, and I think it must be a charming spot. Close by it is the Palace of Schönbornhest, where the Bourbon family retreated at the revolution in the last century. It is now sadly dilapidated. Just as we were looking at Nuendorf, on our right, we were all called, by a bend in the river, to gaze on the giant rock of Ehrenbreitstein, bristling to its very summit with fortifications. O, how it towers up, and smiles or frowns—which you please—upon Coblentz, sweetly reposing on the banks of the Rhine and the Moselle! I think the view from the deck of the steamer, up and down the river, and on each side, is the noblest panoramic view that I have seen. Just before us is a bridge of boats, which connects the fortress with Coblentz; and, looking up the Moselle, is a fine stone bridge. We had our dinner on the deck of the boat—a good arrangement, because we lost none of the scenery. This dinner was about midway between Cologne and Coblentz; and it would have amused you to have noticed the order of the various courses—soup, boiled beef, raw fish, ducks, roast pork, fowls, pudding, baked fish, roast beef, and mutton. Every thing was well cooked, and I never saw people appear more disposed to do justice to a meal. There was not half the hurry and indecorum that you so often see in an American boat. One thing I observed—and that was, that no one used the left hand for the management of his knife. If any thing annoys me, it is to see persons carve and eat at table with this wretched habit. I always imagine that they were so unhappy as to have grown up without father or mother to watch over them. This may be my weakness; but I cannot help it. We went to the Trois Suisses, a fine house on the river bank, and from our windows are looking, by moonlight, on the glorious fortress.

Yours truly,


Letter 41.


Dear Charley:—

We had no more pleasant day in our excursion than from Cologne to Coblentz. It would be long before I grew tired of the scenery at that fine old place. We walked about, in the evening, with our New York friends; and, though some parts of Coblentz are very filthy, there are some exquisite plots in it, and all the vicinage is beautiful. We took a pleasant stroll to the bridge which spans the blue Moselle with fourteen arches. The city stands on a point of land formed by the two rivers, and hence was known to the Romans by the name of Confluentes. Drusus fortified this place and Ehrenbreitstein thirteen years before Christ. Its population is short of twenty thousand; but there are also four thousand five hundred Prussian troops at the fortress. This is one of the strongest military posts in Europe. Its fortifications have been the labor of long years; and the works here, united with those across the river, are deemed impregnable. I believe Ehrenbreitstein is called the Gibraltar of Germany. It mounts four hundred cannon, and the magazines will contain provisions for eight thousand men for ten years. The former Electoral Palace is now the Government House, and presents a very noble appearance from the river. It is either stone, or stuccoed, with an Ionic portico; and, with its wings, is five hundred and forty feet front. All round this city, the heights are strongly fortified; and, look where you may, you see means of defence.

We here determined upon an excursion to Stolzenfels, which is about four miles from Coblentz, and our party went in two carriages—the family of Mr. B. in one, and ourselves in the other. The ride was very pleasant along the banks of the Rhine, and through orchards and vineyards—the heights towering away over us all the way. We came to the village of Capellen, which is a poor little hamlet at the base of the lofty mountain on which stood the noble ruins of Stolzenfels Castle, which has been most admirably restored, and is now the summer palace of the King of Prussia. The ascent is very steep, but the road is admirable. Carriages are not allowed to go up, and travellers are supplied with donkeys, of which we found plenty in waiting. Our party all obtained these patient beasts of burden, and I assure you that we made a funny cavalcade. I do think it would have amused you to see ladies, gentlemen, and boys, all escorted by ragged urchins, mounting the hill. The road has been made at immense expense, and winds along in the most romantic manner—giving you, at every turn, the finest views and catches of the river, up and down; while the walls are frequently at the edges of precipices, from fifty to two hundred feet over the ravines below. The woods were in all their glory, and I never saw a finer day. On arriving at the castle, we rang a bell, and the servant in livery appeared—a fine, civil fellow he was. On entering, we were all furnished with felt slippers, so that, in walking through the apartments, we might not injure the polished oak floors. This castle was the residence of Archbishop Werner, who, at the close of the fourteenth century, was devoted to alchemy. The old tower is an immense affair, and still remains, and is likely to remain for ages. The new parts of the palace have all been restored with constant reference to the original architectural style. We wandered from one apartment to another, perhaps going into twenty or thirty apartments, none of which were very large, and many of them quite small and cosy. We saw the bed-room of the king. Every thing was plain, and the furniture generally made of oak or black walnut. His study table had pen and ink and paper upon it, just as if he had stepped out of the room. The queen's apartments were very elegantly plain, and her oratory is as pretty a little thing as you can imagine. In all these apartments are fine pictures, and one is superbly frescoed with allegory and history. The room in which the Queen of England and Prince Albert lodged, in 1845, was shown us, and the state bed was still in it. The dining hall was finely ornamented with carvings, old armor, &c. But a room devoted to antiquities pleased us the best of all. Here were cups, bottles, and glass goblets of the earliest dates,—some as far back as the twelfth and thirteenth centuries,—which had belonged to emperors and electors whom I cannot recollect, they were so many. On the walls were the most precious mementoes; and here we saw the swords of Marshal Tilly, Napoleon Bonaparte,—the one used at Waterloo,—Blucher, and Murat, and the knife and fork belonging to the brave Hofer, the Tyrolese patriot, who was shot at Mantua. From all the windows of this gem of a palace we had the finest views of the river, and could see, from the gateway and platform, Coblentz, Ehrenbreitstein, and eleven different ruins of castles and convents. Directly in front of us, on a bend of the river, almost making a peninsula, was Lahnstein and its ruined castle; off to its right, Braubach, and the Castle of Marksburg and Martin's Chapel; and, on our own side, the pretty village of Rheus, where was once "the royal seat," and where the electors of the Rhine used to meet, to elect or depose the emperors of Germany. All round the castle of Stolzenfels are the choicest flowers and shrubs; and I wish some of my horticultural friends could have seen the moss roses and fuchias in such luxuriance. We were sorry to leave the place; but the steamboat on the Rhine is as punctual as a North River boat; and we had to resume our donkeys, descend to the carriages, drive briskly, and were just in time to get on board a boat bound to Mayence. In going up the river, we saw the palace again to great advantage; and, whatever else I forget, this locality I shall keep in memory, I assure you. We again looked at Lahnstein, and the ruins of St. John's Church, built in 1100, and saw a curious ferry, from the mouth of the Lahn over to Stolzenfels. It is made by five or six boats anchored off, and the ferry boat goes over, wafted by the tide. We then came upon Bopart, an old place, but strongly fortified, and having three or four thousand inhabitants. A gentleman on board, who had been there, said it was quite an interesting place. Nearly opposite we were delighted with the ruined towers of the Brothers, as Sternberg and Liebenstein are called. They occupy the two summits of a rock, every inch of whose sides is sacred to vines. The story of the brothers who lived here you are acquainted with. Our next point of interest was the ruin of Thurnberg, or the Mouse; while not far above is another, called the Cat. The view here grows more sublime, and the river grows narrower; and we had a fine prospect of Rheinfels and the town of St. Goar. Rheinfels grows up from the river's edge, and is, indeed, the rock of the Rhine. The fortifications were immense, and this is the most wonderful ruin on the river. A confederacy of German and Rhenish cities broke up this fortress at the close of the thirteenth century, and long afterwards it was made a modern defence. Here the river seems pent up, almost; and just above St. Goar there rises from the water a lofty precipice, called the Lurley Rock. Nearly opposite, a man lives, who, when the boat passes, fires a pistol, and a very singular echo follows, as we can testify. Not far above are seven rocks, seen at low water, called the Seven Sisters. The legend says that they were hard-hearted girls,—the Ladies Schonberg,—who trifled with the affections of nice young men, and so got their deserts by being turned into stones. Still, at the right, we came to Oberwesel, and we all thought it among the sweetest spots of the river. Salmon are caught in nets here, from the rocks. A bend in the river shows us Schonberg, a fine ruin. This was the family spot whence the Marshal Schomberg, of the Boyne, originated. Just over the river is the noble Gutenfels. It was spared by the French, and occupied till 1807, but is now roofless. Caub, on the left, is the place where Marshal Blucher crossed the river with his army, January 1, 1814. In the centre of the river is a castle called Pfalz, built about 1320, which was used as a toll-house by the Duke of Nassau. I think it has been used as a state prison. On our right lies Bacharach, with its many towers, and the fine old ruins of Stahleck Castle. Off this place is a large rock, the Altar of Bacchus; and when the rock is exposed, it is thought to be the pledge of a good vintage. The region is celebrated for its wines; and the grapes of the slaty rocks have a highly musky perfume. A gentleman told me that Bacharach resembles Jerusalem in its aspect. Of course, it must be in miniature that the resemblance exists. Here we noticed St. Werner's Church, a most superb ruin of the florid Gothic. Those lancet-arched windows are the admiration of all who pass by. Lorchausen is a small place, and just away from it are the ruins of the Castle of Nollingen. On the other side, or right bank, are the ruins of the old Keep Tower of Fürstenberg, destroyed in 1689. Here we enter on the region where the best Rhenish wine is produced. The Rheingau, or valley of the river, is divided into upper and lower departments; and from about Lorch, on the left bank, up to Biberich, are the choicest vineyards. On our right lay the ruins of Heimberg, and the restored Castle of Sonneck. Then comes old Falkenberg, and near to it is the splendid Gothic Church of St. Clement. All these fortresses were the abodes of wholesale highwaymen, and then might made right. Most of them became such nuisances that, at the close of the thirteenth century, they were hurled down, and their places made desolate. Here, too, is Rheinstein, on the very bank of the river. Its early owner was hanged by the Emperor Rudolph. One of the Prussian princes has fitted up the fortress in magnificent style; and I learn that there is no palace in Europe that can boast of such mediæval splendor. Every thing that can serve to illustrate the dark ages is carefully collected for this charming spot, which seems a rival to Stolzenfels.

Just across, on the opposite bank, is Assmanshausen, famous for hot baths and red wine. Here you see terrace upon terrace, up to the summits of the hills; and some of these, the guide books say, are one thousand or twelve hundred feet. You will often see fifteen or twenty of these terraces supported by brick and stone fences, and the terrace is often not more than six feet wide; and the soil and manure have all to be carried up on the shoulders of the vine-dressers. The value of this region-arises from its aspect, owing to the bend of the river, which gives this left bank, as you ascend, a direct exposure to the sun at midday.

The vintage of the Rhine, I am told, is generally gathered in during October and November, but it is put off as late as possible. Grapes were introduced here by the Romans.

We now came to Ehrenfels, in its venerable decay, the beautiful tower of Rosel, and the ruins of Bromseberg; while on our right are the ruins of Vautsberg, and just beyond we come upon "Bingen of the Rhine," at the mouth of the Nahe; and close by is the celebrated Mausetherm, or Mouse Tower, said to have been built by Hatto, the Archbishop of Mayence, in the tenth century. Southey's fine ballad has immortalized the legend. Never did town present sweeter aspect than Bingen, at the foot of a pyramidical hill, which is crowned by the ruined Castle of Klopp. In a church here lies Bartholomew of Holshausen, who prophesied the fatality of the Stuarts and Charles II.'s restoration, warning him not to restore Popery. Bingen has, I think, some five or six thousand inhabitants, and has a great trade in wine, which is collected here from all the vineyards around. Rudesheim lies on the other bank, and its famous wine comes from grapes growing close to Ehrenfels. Next comes Geisenheim, also famous for wine, and soon comes the renowned village and vineyard of Johannisberg, or Mountain of St. John. Here the river is wide again,—perhaps two thousand fire hundred feet,—and we begin to see fine meadows. This is where Prince Metternich has his seat, where once was a priory, and various have been its vicissitudes. In 1816, it was given to Metternich by the Emperor of Austria. The mountain contains only seventy-five acres, and the choicest wine comes only from vines growing near the castle, on the crown of the bill. The wine of the village is very inferior to that of this estate. The place has but few inhabitants—say five or eight hundred. The house is white, and not very castle-like. The grape is called the Riesslingen.

VINEYARD ON THE RHINE.—Pp. 175. Vineyard on the Rhine.—Pp. 175.

Here we found several islands. Erbach and Hattenheim are both famous for vineyards, and between them grows the famous Marcobrünner; and the Steinberg vineyard, a fortune to the Duke of Nassau, lies upon a slope of the hill close to the convent, of Eberbach or Erbach. This convent was founded in 1131, but is now a lunatic asylum. The churches here are very fine. Opposite the shore lies Rhine Island, and forms a noble park. Walluff, with few inhabitants, is regarded as the commencement of the Rheingau, or wine district, along which we had coasted. Biberich, on the duchy of Nassau, now comes upon our view; and the noble château of the duke presents one of the finest mansions on the river. Here some of our passengers left for Frankfort, and took the rail; but we wished to see Mayence, and so went in the boat. The city looks finely, and its red towers and steeples make quite a show. This city belongs to the Duke of Hesse Darmstadt, and is garrisoned by Austrians and Prussians, in equal force, generally eight or ten thousand. Exclusive of these, the population is nearly forty thousand. We walked about, and looked at the fine Cathedral, which was sadly shut up by houses and shanties. It was too late to enter it. You may be sure, Charley, that we found out the monument to John Guttemberg, the inventor of movable types. It is of bronze, and was designed by Thorwaldsen, and stands in front of the Theatre, once a university. After perambulating the town till weary, we came to the bridge of boats, sixteen hundred and sixty-six feet long, and which connects Mayence with Cassel, a strongly fortified place, where the railroad depot is located. At this bridge are several boat mills, or tide mills, where grain is ground by the tidal action. They look strangely, but work well. On the bridge we met many Austrian officers in rich uniforms, most of them young, and, I thought, very aristocratical in their bearing. Our dinner on board the boat was as profuse as the day before; and I must not forget to tell you that we had an English lordling, son of a former premier, on board, with his lady, on their matrimonial tour. He was the worst-mannered young man that I have seen in Europe; and when he had ogled the company sufficiently with his glass, and manifested his contempt pretty plainly, he and his betook themselves to the interior of his carriage. He was quite young, and may grow better behaved. We took the ears at dark, and after riding twenty-two miles found ourselves at Frankfort, having passed through Hochheim, where the vineyards are so costly that the railroad company had to pay well for the passage-way. Here we put up at the Hotel Angleterre. Forgive this long letter; but I could not well shorten it, and I want you to know just what we saw.

Always yours,


Letter 42.


Dear Charley:—

James's long letter gave you a pretty correct view of our passage from Coblentz to Frankfort. You will recollect that we went up the Rhine, which gave us more time to look about; but I fancy that in going down stream the shores would show to better advantage, if possible, than in the ascent. From Coblentz to Mayence the river is narrower than before; and every rock more precipitous than its neighbor, has a castle. How some of these towers were built, or could be got at, seems a mystery. I had no idea of the number of these robbers' nests, for such they were. Much as I love the Hudson, yet I cannot help saying that the Rhine is the river of the world, so far as I have seen the watery highways. Frankfort is one of the free towns of Germany, and lies on the Maine. It has about sixty-five thousand inhabitants, of whom seven thousand are Jews. I like the city much, and think a residence here would be very agreeable. Some of the modern streets are very handsome, and the dwellings are fine. The old part of the town is old enough. At our hotel we found a sentinel on guard, in honor of an Austrian general staying at the house. The house is a capital one, like all the other great hotels we have yet seen on the continent. We all went to see the Römer, or Town Hall, which was built about 1425, and which is quite famous for its historical associations. Here the German emperors were formerly elected and inaugurated. We saw the great hall where they were entertained and had crowned heads for waiters. Here, on its walls, are all the portraits of the series of emperors from Conrad I. to Francis II., and each emperor has his motto underneath. Some of these are quaint enough. Directly in front of this building is the Römerberg, or Market-place, in which the carousing incident to coronation used to occur; and it is large enough to accommodate a vast assembly. We rode along the banks of the river, to see a pretty little palace belonging to Duke Somebody, and especially to see the grounds and hothouses. They were exquisitely beautiful. As we were here upon a holiday of the church, the Museum was closed, and we lost the sight of some good pictures. We were much pleased with a visit to the garden of Mr. Bethman, a banker, where we saw a pretty little collection of statuary, the gem of which is Dannecker's statue of Ariadne. The building in which these are placed is neat. We, of course, went to see No. 74 in the Hersch-Graben, where Goethe was born, in 1749. In the corner house of the Dom Platz, Luther once dwelt We rode through the Jews' quarters; and, of all the wretched-looking streets, I think the worst and filthiest is that in which Baron Rothschild was born. As we passed a Sabbath here, we attended the English Episcopal Church, a neat building. The service was well read by the chaplain, and an excellent sermon was preached by a stranger. After service I spoke to the chaplain, who was quite anxious to hear about the prospects of Popery in America. He seemed to have very just views of the system, and anxiously deprecated its influence in our Country.

We visited many shops, and found the richest collections of curiosities and antiquities. Here we met with several American friends upon their tour; and at Frankfort we took leave of our New York friends, whose kindness and agreeable company we had been favored with for a few days.

We took the rail for Heidelberg, on our way to Strasburg. The whole of the first few miles was through a very flat-looking country, and our interest was not called out till we came to Darmstadt, a fine town, with thirty thousand inhabitants. We saw a tall column, but could not find out its historical allusion. This is the capital of the grand duchy of Hesse Darmstadt. In passing through Odenwald, we saw a tract of woody country; and off to our left we were quite sure that the scenery must be very beautiful. The hills in the distance form the boundary on the eastern part of the valley of the Rhine; and the mountain ranges are richly covered with vineyards and castles all the way, parallel with the railroad. This beautiful region is called the Bergstrasse, and I am sure a week or two on these hills would amply repay the pedestrian. It is in these wild regions of romance that the Castle of Rodenstein is found, some ten miles from Erbach; and not far from it Castle Schnellert, where the wild Jager is supposed to live, who haunts the forests and gives spectral forewarnings of battles. Off to our left there was a constantly shifting panoramic view of hill top and ruins.

Heidelberg is sweetly situated on the bank of the Neckar—a beautiful river, and one that I long to trace by its course through wood and hill. This town is famous for its university and castle. It has about seven hundred and fifty students. We could only see the castle, and admire its exterior. The college was founded in 1386, and is very distinguished as a law school. The library is very large and excellent. The barbarian Tilly is said to have provided litter for his cavalry from books and MSS. out of this then magnificent collection. The ruin of this glorious old castle dates from 1764, when it was burnt by lightning. It is built of red stone. If I live, I hope to visit this place again, and make a thorough exploration of this stupendous ruin. It is here, in a cellar, that the largest wine butt in the world is found, and it will contain eight hundred hogsheads. It has long been empty, however. I never longed to follow a river more than I do this same Neckar—it is so clear, and all my glimpses of it have been so filled up with quiet beauty and wild scenery. We saw a hill, near the town, which affords the finest view, we are told, in Germany, and even takes in Strasburg Cathedral spire, which is quite ninety miles off!

From Heidelberg we again took the cars for Kehl, about four miles from Strasburg, a distance of nearly ninety miles. The first-class cars are very luxurious and reasonable; second class, excellent, and very genteel-looking persons using them. Lord Cowley, father of Lady Bulwer, wife of the minister from England at Washington, was in the cars with us, and two of his children—one a beautiful little girl. They were going to Baden, and were accompanied by a governess.

We found no more of the extraordinary beauty that had made our morning ride so charming. Bruchsal seemed a dull place, as seen from the station; and Durlach had not much greater attractions. Carlsruhe is quite a place, has some repute for its baths, and is the capital of the grand duchy of Baden. Off to the south of this town we saw the skirts of the Black Forest. All around we saw a fine growth of poplars. Passing Etlingen and Muggensturm, we come to Rastadt—rather a pretty station, and the town is fortified. At Oos our passengers for Baden took a branch train, which, after three miles' ride, brought them into the famous Baden-Baden. We reached Kehl, which is a mere village on the Rhine, but has seen enough of war. Here we took an omnibus and started for Strasburg, distant some four miles. When we reached the French custom-house, over the river, we had quite a searching time; and even a flask of cologne was taxed some twenty cents. We were weary enough, and glad to get into quarters, which we established at the Ville de Paris, a very superior house, with excellent rooms and elegant furniture, while the cookery was perfect. To-morrow we have enough to see and to do. To-night we shall retire early; but, go where we may, we shall furnish you the promised account of our wanderings.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 43.


Dear Charley:—

Long before we entered this city, we obtained a fine view of its great glory, the Cathedral spire. What an object! It does not seem as if hammer and chisel had had any thing to do here. I can almost fancy that this spire was thought out and elaborated by mere intellect. It would be long ere I grew weary of looking at this wondrous work of man. The more you examine this edifice, the more you are impressed with its magnificence. Let me tell you about this same minster, as it is called. The spire is four hundred and seventy-four feet high—one hundred and forty feet higher than St. Paul's, and twenty-four feet higher than the Pyramids of Egypt. The architect was Erwin of Steinbach, and his plans survived him. He died in 1318, when the work was carried on by his son. The tower was not finished till four hundred and twenty-five years after the commencement of the building, and then Hültz, from Cologne, came to effect the undertaking. The tracery of this lofty pinnacle is inimitably beautiful. We ascended the spire, and I can assure you that the prospect amply repays the trouble. We saw the winding, silvery Rhine, the Black Forest, and the long line of the Vosges Mountains. I never felt more keenly my inability to describe a place than when I walked through this gorgeous sanctuary. You must see it, to form an adequate idea of its grandeur. The nave was begun in 1015, and completed in 1275. The choir is yet older, and is thought to belong to the times of Charlemagne. The large rose window, over the front entrance, is thought to be the finest specimen of stained glass now existing. The stone pulpit of 1486 is the grandest we have yet seen, and in better taste than some of the carved wood pulpits in Belgium. The columns are very massive. One of the chief attractions in this church is the mechanical clock, which occupies a large space at the left hand as you enter the building. The true time to see it is at twelve o'clock, when Death strikes the hour, the apostles all pass before you, a large cock up above flaps his wings and crows admirably three times, flags are waved, and the affair ends. Here, close by, is the architect Erwin's effigy, in stone.

We next went to St. Thomas's Church, to see the superb tomb of Marshal Saxe, which is a work of great merit. In a vault we saw the remains of a Count of Nassau and his daughter, who had been coffined down for—I forget how long, but I think more than two centuries. It was here that Guttemburg began his experiments in printing, which he perfected at Mayence. We made some purchases here of embroidery, which we thought very beautiful, and also cheap. General Kleber's tomb and monument are in the Place d'Armes. Of course, we did not visit Strasburg and forget that it furnishes pâté's des fois gras. We obtained some good engravings of the churches and other points of interest, and, on a fine afternoon, took the railroad for Basle.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 44.


Dear Charley:—

We took the cars from Strasburg in the afternoon for this place. The distance is eighty-six miles; and, owing to some twenty way stations, we were nearly five hours on the rail; but the beauty of the scenery reconciled us to a prolongation of the time usually spent on such a journey. The general route was over a flat country, with sundry bridges over small streams; but, off to our right, we were close to the Vosges Mountains, which kept us company nearly every mile of the journey. I suppose you know that Strasburg is very strongly fortified. We saw its works to great advantage when leaving the city by the train. We were much assisted in our knowledge of places on the mountains by a fine panoramic volume of engravings which we bought at Strasburg, and which really gives a capital idea of the entire scene of travel. I will just name the principal places that we passed by and through, that you may trace on the map and read about them, for some are important towns. St. Erstein is a place of four thousand inhabitants; Benfield is very pretty indeed; and close by is a fine-looking town, with a fine situation. We saw a noble spire off to our left. Schlestadt has ten thousand inhabitants, and is fortified. From it chimneys, we supposed it must be a manufacturing place. The view of the Vosges here is very imposing. They are generally with rolling summits; and upon some eminence, jutting out, stands a castle. The Hoher Königsberg is the largest castle of the range, and it was destroyed during the thirty years' war, in 1633. Here we saw fine vineyards. Colmar looks like a very prosperous place. Its manufactories make quite a show, and all around we saw well-built cotton factories; and the entire spot had a Rhode Island look. Dr. C. turned our attention to the village of Turckheim, about three miles off, where Marshal Turenne beat the Imperialists in 1675. Egnisheim and its three-towered castle is a small affair. Bolwiller is a perfect vineyard all around, and the wines of this region are excellent. Nothing, hardly, seems to be cultivated but the vine. Opposite to this place is the loftiest of the Vosges; and my panorama makes it four thousand seven hundred feet above the sea. Mühlhausen is a very active, busy-looking town, with a population of nearly thirty thousand. Here the fine cotton prints of France are fabricated. Much of the property is owned at Basle, we were afterwards told. This place has to obtain its cotton from Havre and Marseilles; and even coal has to come from a distance.

It was dark when we took an omnibus at the terminus; and, after riding over an old bridge, we were very soon established at a princely hotel known as the Trois Rois. This house is on the banks of the Rhine, and its windows command a very fine view. The historical reminiscences of Basle are interesting, and its position very commanding. Here the Rhine is bounded by the hills of the Black Forest and the Jura range.

Next morning we took a stroll to see the lay of the land; and we found ourselves on a terrace overlooking the Rhine, and forming a part of the cathedral ground. O, it was glorious to look at, Charley. There, stretched away on the other side, were the hills of the Black Forest, whose legends we have so often pored over. This terrace is finely-wooded with linden and chestnut-trees. We walked back to town, and called upon our consul, Mr. Burchardt, and found him very kind and friendly. He gave himself up to us for the entire day, and became our guide to all the objects of interest. He dined with us; and then we all went to his charming country-house, about one and a half miles from town, and took tea with his family. Our first object was the Cathedral. This is a red sandstone church, with two steeples, and was consecrated in 1019. The crypt, no doubt, is as ancient as this date. Here is the tomb of the empress, wife of Rudolph of Hapsburg. Here, too, we saw the tombstone of Erasmus, who died in 1536. In the cloisters, which are very noble, are the monuments of Œcolampadius, Grynæus and Myer, the reformers. This church is Protestant. It is plain, but venerable. In the chapter-house, which we visited, was held the Council of Basle, which lasted from 1436 to 1444. The room is just as it then appeared, and the very cushions on the seats are still preserved. Our next visit was to the Holbein Gallery, where the largest collection of paintings by this master is to be seen. Here we saw the fragments of the Dance of Death, but which some say are of an earlier date than Holbein's day. I liked his portraits better than his other pieces. One sketch of Sir Thomas More's family is very fine. We also saw the library, and a large collection of Roman antiquities. The portraits are very fine at the library; and we saw those of Euler and Bernouilli, the mathematicians. At the university we saw the building, and received polite attentions from the librarian and Latin professor. We also saw the professor of chemistry, renowned for his discovery of gun cotton. The collection of MSS. is very large and rich; and we had the gratification to have in our hands the handwriting of several letters by Melancthon, Calvin, Luther, Erasmus, &c., &c. I think this is a good place to live in for purposes of study. At Basle there is a large missionary seminary; and a great many of the best missionaries in India and Africa were educated here. We also visited the private reading-room of a club, and found a very good library there. On the table were several American papers—the New York Herald, Express, and the Boston Mercantile Journal. After dinner we took a carriage and repaired to St. Jacob, a quiet village, about one mile from Basle. Here we found a neat little church, and, at the junction of two roads, a Gothic cross, to commemorate the famous battle of St. Jacob, in 1444, when sixteen hundred Swiss fought the French army under the dauphin for a whole day. The French were over sixteen thousand strong. Only ten Swiss escaped the slaughter. Lest you should think me at fault upon the numbers in this battle, I would say that I know Watteville calls the Swiss twelve hundred, and the French thirty thousand; but I quote from Swiss historians, who are deemed good authority. We went into the little tavern and drank some red wine, which goes by the name of Swiss blood. We then ascended an eminence commanding a fine view of the city, the river, and the Jura Mountains. At the summit we found a church; and the parsonage next to it looked very cosy and comfortable. The pastor's children were running about, and were very noble-looking boys. We learnt that while the stipend of the pastor was very small,—as is the case in Switzerland,—yet he was a man of wealth.

We were quite amused with the market day here. Droves of country people were in the streets—the women in country costume; and on the ground there were vast collections of crockery, which seemed one of the chief articles of traffic.

A charming drive, late in the afternoon, took us to the consul's hospitable abode; and there, with his lady, we had a thoroughly Yankee tea-time. In the evening we walked back to the city, crossing the old bridge.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 45.


Dear Charley:—

We left Basle on a bright morning, at six o'clock, having places in the coupé of the diligence for Berne, a distance of seventy-six miles. We took this route in order to enjoy the remarkable scenery which marks the Moutiers Valley, which is the most romantic in the Jura Mountain range. This journey entirely takes the palm, for enjoyment, of any in our tour; and I think I am more surprised and gratified than I was on the Rhine. Certainly the prospect was more constantly grand and awe inspiring. We started with six horses,—three abreast,—and jogged on, at about six miles the hour, over as good roads as I ever travelled. They are, also, the cleanest you ever saw. All along, at intervals, we saw men with badges on their hats, who appeared to have charge of the highway. Every thing on the road is scraped up; and at every quarter of a mile, or less, there is at the wayside an enclosure for manure, into which every thing is turned. On all the line of travel in Switzerland, we were struck with the careful way in which heaps of manure are protected by large bands of corded hay, twisted around. Then, too, in the villages and towns we were all interested with the enormous stone troughs for watering cattle. Some of these appeared to me full twenty feet long, and two or three deep. On our way from Basle we passed the battle ground of St. Jacob; and some way farther on we saw the battle field of Dornach, at which place the Swiss obtained a victory over the Austrians in 1499. A little before reaching Tavannes we ascended a hill, and came to a wonderful archway across the road—perhaps natural. On it is a Roman inscription. The arch is, I should think, nearly fifty feet high and fifteen feet in depth. We then went on to Bienne; and a pretty-looking place it is. We left it on our right, and our road was very hilly, really mountainous, and the air was sharp. As we walked for two or three miles to help the horses, we found the wild strawberries offered for sale very pleasant. We reached Berne late in the evening; and the entrance to the town, through a noble avenue of trees called the Engæ, was very pleasant. We repaired to the Faucon, and enjoyed the repose of a long night.

Berne is a large town, with a population of nearly thirty thousand. It lies on the banks of the Aar, which goes almost round the city. The great elevation of the city—seventeen hundred feet above the sea—gives it quite an appearance on approaching it. Then the houses are all built upon arched pathways, and they form arcades, very much like the old city of Chester, in England. We noticed several watch towers, evidently very ancient; and one in the town, near our hotel, has a queer clock, which, like that at Strasburg, is mechanical. On striking, out comes a cock and flaps away with his wings, and then little images appear, and bears pass by a puppet, seated on a throne. Bears seem to be the guardian angels of the place, and are the arms of the town. We were very much pleased with an extensive prospect of the Bernese Alps, from a terrace overhanging the rapid river. I cannot tell you how many peaks we saw covered with snow. Our panorama, purchased here, enumerates more than a dozen; and among these are the Wetterhorn, Stockhorn, and Jungfrau. We greatly enjoyed a fine sunset from this spot. The Cathedral is a noble structure, built between 1421 and 1573, and from designs by the son of the architect of the Cathedral at Strasburg. Some of the work here is exceedingly fine. The great entrance is very imposing, and has rich sculptures. Here, too, are some beautifully-painted windows—one describing the pope grinding the four evangelists in a mill, out of which comes wafers, is very curious. The organ is very fine, and the case one of the richest in Europe. It has four rows of keys and sixty-six stops. The font is of black granite, and has the date of 1525, which is three years previous to the church reformation in this canton. It has some finely-sculptured images of the Trinity, Virgin Mary, and St. Vincent, the patron saint of the church. We were pointed out the communion table, of marble, which is an immense block, and before the reformation it was an altar at Lausanne. There are some fine monuments, having great antiquity.

In the choir we were delighted with the old prebendal stalls, over which were figures of Christ and his apostles, and on the opposite side prophets, all in carved wood. One of the prophets was a capital likeness of Luther.

As we were leaving this noble edifice, we met a minister coming in; he wore a short, black gown, and had a deep white ruff on his shoulders.

The library of the town embraces about forty-five thousand volumes—and well assorted, too. What a reproach it is to us that, excepting in Providence, hardly any small city has what can be called a library!

The Museum we could not examine. I spoke of bears: well, the town keeps several of these fellows at a place called the Bärengraben.

Much did we long to take a trip into the Bernese Oberland, but it was not practicable; so we started for Lausanne by diligence, a distance of fifty-six miles, and were eleven hours on the way. We saw much fine scenery, but nothing that would compare with the Munster Thal or Valley of Moutiers, and which I think would pay any lover of nature to come from America to look at and travel through. The places we went through were Morat, famous for its battle in 1476; Avenches, the Roman Aventicum; Payerne, &c. The last few miles were of great labor in ascent; and as it was pitch dark for some miles, I cannot tell much about what is said to be beautiful.

At Lausanne we went to the Hotel Gibbon, and a lovelier spot than the rear of this mansion eye never rested upon. Again we were weary, and found good beds very inviting.

Yours, &c.,


Letter 46.

Lausanne And Geneva.

Dear Charley:—

We are staying in one of the most romantic and beautiful spots that I ever had the pleasure to visit. The population is seventeen thousand, and on the increase. It is the favorite resort of the English; and no wonder, for here are displays of the glory and of the power of the Creator rarely to be seen. The town stands on a mount, and descends gradually to the lake. On every side are most precipitous ravines; and the streets are the most break-neck-looking highways I ever saw. Putnam's Leap would be thought nothing of at Lausanne.

Our hotel overlooks Gibbon's garden, and we saw his trees and seat. Here he composed his eloquent work on the Roman empire. His portrait is in the hotel dining-room. The prospect surpasses in richness all that I had fancied. Before us lie the Alps, with snowy tops; between us and these is the glassy lake, and on its waters we notice a regatta, the boats all adorned with flags and the crews with ribbons. There are, I should think, from fifty to seventy-five boats in sight. Up in the Alps there is a fire in the woods; and the volume of smoke and flashing of flame form a fine addition to the scene.

The temperature of the climate is very favorable to health; and now, in June, it reminds us of our finest clear days at Newport.

On Sabbath morning we repaired to a charming little Episcopal church, near the lake; and the walk of a mile down hill was delightful. On both sides of the road were fine villas, and on the left one estate had its long wall defended by a hedge of roses in full bloom; such a hedge is rarely to be witnessed. We heard a prosy sermon from the old gentleman who has officiated there for some years. I noticed a lady and four sweet little girls who sat in the next pew to us, and was convinced that she was an English lady; and when we overtook her ascending the hill, on our return, I took the liberty to ask a question about the church. She very politely gave me the information, and a conversation commenced. She told me, as a stranger, what I ought to see; and when we were leaving her, she politely offered us an invitation to join her family in the evening, to take a walk to the mountain overhanging Lausanne, known as the Signal, and from whence, in olden time, the watch-fire used to be kindled when the cantons were called to arm for liberty, or danger was expected. This kindness we accepted; and when she gave me her address, I found I had to call at the Hotel de Ville. Well, at half past six, the lads and I repaired to the mansion, a very venerable pile, and we found that our kind friend was no less a personage than the wife of the syndic, or mayor of the city. We were most kindly received and introduced to his honor—a fine-looking, elderly gentleman, who spoke no English; but his family conversed generally in our language. We sallied forth, and took a walk up, up, up,—never will the boys forget that tramp; indeed, Charley, it was the hardest affair I ever went through; but after the ascent was achieved, the recompense was ample. Such a survey of lake, shore, Alps, city, villages, vineyards, cannot be enjoyed elsewhere. It was very cold in these upper regions; and as we descended, the shades of night were over us, and a beautiful moon made its appearance. When parting from our friends, they urged our joining them at seven o'clock to visit the Cathedral, with the mayor as our guide. I accepted the polite offer, but the boys were frightened at the thought of another ascent; for the minster is perched upon a cliff, and you ascend some hundreds of steps to reach the platform.

At seven we were on hand, and with the syndic and his sweet little girl we visited the finest Gothic pile in Switzerland, which was built in 1275, and consecrated by Gregory X. The form is that of the Latin cross. Formerly it had two towers; but one was destroyed by lightning, in 1825. Here are several fine monuments and tombs of interest; one an effigy in mail armor of Otho of Grandeson, and another of Pope Felix V., who resigned the papacy and became a monk, and a very beautiful one to the wife of Stratford Canning; the figures of which are eight in number, and two of them are by Canova; also the tomb of Bernard de Menthon, founder of the St. Bernard Hospice.

We returned to the Hotel de Ville and took breakfast with Madame Gadaud, for whom and her kind family we shall long cherish grateful recollections.

From Lausanne we took boat for Vevay. The port of Lausanne is the little village of Ouchy. I ought to tell you that John Philip Kemble, the great tragedian, is buried two miles from this place. We found the excursion on the lake very agreeable, and passed many pretty villages on the left shore till we came to Vevay, a sweet little town, of five thousand inhabitants, and is embowered in vineyards. It is about one mile and a quarter from the foot of the Alps. Here we had a view of the Castle of Chillon, and Byron was on our tongues at once. My great object in coming here was to see St Martin's Church, for here are buried Ludlow, the regicide, and Broughton, who read the sentence of Charles I. Charles II. could never get the Swiss to deliver these patriots into his hands. In the afternoon we took another boat and went to Geneva in about five hours, and stopped at Ouchy, Morges, Rolle, Nyon, and Coppet. At Morges is a fine old castle, in good condition. Nearly opposite Rolle we saw the hoary head of Mont Blanc, towering above the giant brotherhood of Alpine heights. We did not see Lake Leman in a storm, and though certainly beautiful in its adjuncts, not more so than Lake Erie. At Coppet was the residence of Madame De Staël.

We reached Geneva in the evening at seven, and went to the Hotel L'Eou. Here we were delighted to meet again with the Rev. Dr. Murray and Dr. Chetwood, and also to find the Rev. Mr. Chickering and Rev. Mr. Jacobus, with his family, and other valued friends.

The approach to Geneva from the lake is very imposing; but I was less pleased with the town itself than I expected to be. Its position is very grand. Its history is every thing, however. The Cathedral Church of St. Peter is a fine specimen of the Gothic of the eleventh century. The sounding board is the same under which Calvin preached.

The population is about forty thousand, including the suburbs, and thousands of tourists are every year residents for a few days. We had a pleasant morning at the Museum, where are some good pictures and many curiosities. In the library are Calvin's letters in MS., forty or fifty volumes of MS. sermons, &c. This same Calvin and this old town of Geneva have had much to do with our own blessed country; and we feel the agency of this man and this town in all our ten thousand joys and comforts.

I could not forget that here was the home of Merle D'Aubigné, the historian of the Protestant reformation, and that here, too, is the residence of the learned Gaussen, the author of Theopneusty, and of the venerable Cæsar Malan. Calling upon this last-named gentleman, I was delighted to find that the Evangelical Association of Geneva was in annual session. This is the great Protestant body with which the American Evangelical Union is in alliance, and for whose operations our friend Dr. Baird has awakened so lively an interest. I went to the church where the meeting was convened, and was introduced to Count George, a very pious Frenchman of fortune, who resides here and devotes himself to the cause of the Protestant religion. He is a Baptist, but is connected with the church which embraces several evangelical denominations. The count presided with great ability; he is a very elegant man, about thirty-four, I should imagine.

I had the pleasure to hear D'Aubigné give a report of his visit to Great Britain. He spoke for two hours. He is quite the orator, and had entire command of the audience, who wept and laughed as he proceeded. The historian is a very noticeable man, and strongly reminded us all of President Wayland, to whom his resemblance is very striking.

Dr. Murray made a few remarks on behalf of his brethren, and we were all invited to a soirée at the assembly-rooms in the evening. Perhaps two hundred and fifty ladies and gentlemen were present. Several addresses and prayers were made. I was announced for an address, but came late on the list; and having no fancy to be translated by a man at my elbow, I quietly withdrew at the fitting time. I was much pleased with Professor Gaussen, who is a very accomplished gentleman. He looks about forty-five, but told me he was very much older.

The clergy present at this convocation were from various parts of France and all the Swiss cantons, and I never saw a finer set of men in any clerical assembly. Pastor Malan is exceedingly venerable in his appearance. He is about sixty-eight years of age, his hair gray, and worn long in the neck, with a good deal of curl to it. His gait is quick, and he has much the manner of the venerable Dr. Beecher. This patriarch of Geneva is very cheerful, knows every one, and has a word for every one. He told me that he loved Americans, but that they had spoiled his habitation by stealing two of his daughters, who, he explained to me, were married to excellent clergymen in the United States.

We met with great kindness in this city from Mr. Delorme, a gentleman who once resided in New York. He invited us to accompany his family on an excursion to the summit of the Salève, a mountain in Savoy, which is three thousand one hundred and fifty feet above the lake. We went in two carriages, and stopped at a village on the mountain side, where we had cakes, coffee, and wine. Here, in a sweet little arbor, surrounded with roses, we gazed at Mont Blanc, and on a near summit could very clearly trace the profile of Napoleon. He looks "like a warrior taking his sleep." The illusion surpasses in accuracy of expression any thing that I know of that is similar; there are chin, nose, eye, and the old cocked hat, while the eternal vapor over the summit of the peak forms the feather.

We looked down in a ravine and saw the Aar with its icy stream. The carriages went round to meet the party, and the ascent was made. The mountain seems to hang over Geneva, though several miles off. We were greatly pleased with a few good houses, in fine positions; but Savoy is not Switzerland. Here Popery is rampant and pauperism evident. Beggars beset our carriages, and the people looked squalid.

Swiss Cottage. Swiss Cottage.

I forgot to tell you how much we were pleased with the cottages in Switzerland; they are quite cheerful looking,—some very fine affairs,—but many are not very unlike our western log-houses.

We returned to Geneva at about ten, and found at our friend's house a most sumptuous repast provided for our entertainment. I never sat down at a more elegant supper table. Every luxury seemed placed before us, including the richest wines of the Rhine.

The Roman salad, a peculiar kind of lettuce, which we saw in France, and here again, seemed to us all as quite different from our ordinary kinds; and I have at Genera obtained four or five varieties of the seed for home cultivation.

While at this city we procured some good specimens of wooden ware, Swiss cottages, &c., and the boys bought watches, jewelry, &c., for presents.

We were all delighted with a little island in the centre of a bridge which goes across the lake; it was a favorite retreat of Rousseau, and there is a statue to his memory.

Calvin's residence is still to be seen, No. 116 Rue des Chanoins. We saw the place where Servetus was burnt. The place and prospect were too beautiful for such a foul desecration. But Calvin's virtues were his own, and the faults he fell into belonged to the influence of the age. It was much so with those greatest and best of men, the New England Pilgrim Fathers. I know they had faults, but they were only spots upon the polished mirror. God reared them up, a rare race of men, for a rare purpose; and I do not like to hear them abused because they were not perfect. If Laud had come to Plymouth Rock instead of Brewster, Bonner instead of Carver, what kind of a community would have been established and handed down?

In Geneva, too, we had the pleasure to meet a valued friend, Mr. B., from Providence, who has been travelling extensively, and gathering up the treasures of other cities to enrich the one of his birth.

To-morrow we are off for Paris, and go by diligence to Dijon; thence by railroad.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 47.


Dear Charley:—

We started from Geneva in the diligence for Dijon, a long drag of one hundred and twenty miles. The weather was oppressively hot, and certainly the roads could not well be more dusty. We had two very gentlemanly companions, Swiss, who were going to London to visit the exhibition. We entered France about four miles on our way, and came to Ferney, where Voltaire so long resided. We passed Gex, and ascended the Jura; then to La Vattay. The view from the mountain of the lake and Mont Blanc, together with the Alpine range, is never to be forgotten by one who has the good fortune to see it. I feel that I am acquiring new emotions and gathering up new sources of thought in this journey, and that I cannot be a trifler and waster away of life in such a world as that I live in. I find in every place so much to read about, and study over, and think upon, that I now feel as if life itself would not be long enough to do all I should like to effect. One thing is certain, Charley; I cannot be indolent without feeling that, with the motives and stimulus of this tour pressing upon me, I shall be very guilty.

The scenery of this journey has set me thinking; and so I have written rather sentimentally, but truly.

At St. Laurent we came to the French custom-house, and a pretty thorough overhauling they made. I believe the fellows hooked some of our engravings, which they carried out of the room.

Still up, till we reached Morez, the Jura's greatest elevation. The last half was travelled in the night; so I cannot give you the line of march. We got to Dijon about eight in the morning, and only had time to get a hasty breakfast at the railroad station; but we had quite a look at the city before entering the cars for Paris.

Dijon is the capital town of the old Burgundy, and is a fine old place, with nearly thirty thousand inhabitants. Here is a great show of churches, and they seem built for all ages. The Cathedral is a noble-looking edifice. We had no time to see the old ducal palace, which has so many historical events connected with it. We saw some beautiful promenades, but only glanced at them. Bossuet was born here, and St. Bernard only a mile outside the walls, in a castle yet standing.

The new railroad had just been opened to Paris, and is one hundred and ninety-six miles and a half of most capital track. We went through Verrey, Montbard, Nuits, Tonnerre, La Roche, Joigny, Sens, Montereau, Fontainebleau, Melun, to Paris. Montbard gave birth to Buffon, the naturalist. Nuits is famous for the vintage of its own name, Romanée, and other choice wines of Burgundy. Near Tonnerre is the château of Coligny d'Audelot, brother to the admiral massacred on St. Bartholomew's night. Sens is famous for its Cathedral, which is apparently very splendid; and here are the vestments of Thomas à Becket, and the very altar at which he knelt, all of which I wanted to see. Fontainebleau is beautifully placed in the midst of a forest. Here is a palace, and at this place Napoleon bade farewell to the Old Guard, in 1814. This place is celebrated for its grapes, raised in the vicinity. Melun was known in Cæsar's time, and in 1520 was taken by Henry V., of England, and held ten years. We reached Paris on the evening of Saturday, and again occupied our old quarters at the Hotel Windsor. I went off to my favorite bathing-house at the Seine, and felt wondrously refreshed after the heat and dust of more than three hundred miles and two days' journeying.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 48.


Dear Charley:—

We have again arrived at this charming city, and hope to pass a few pleasant days, which will be chiefly devoted to purchases of clothing and some of the beautiful articles which are so abundant in the shops of this metropolis. Besides, we have some few places to visit before we return to England. On Sabbath day we went to the Methodist Chapel, near the Church of the Madeleine, and heard a capital sermon from Dr. Ritchie, the president of the Canadian Conference. In the evening I preached. The congregations were very good, and the preacher of the chapel seems a very gentlemanly and pleasant man. In the congregation I had the pleasure to meet with our eloquent countryman and my old friend, the Rev. James Alexander, D.D., of New York, and I announced that he would preach on Wednesday evening. We went into the Madeleine and spent nearly an hour. The house is very splendid; but it does not appear devotional, or likely to inspire suitable feelings. I prefer the Gothic pile, or a plainer temple. It is all painting, gilding, flowers, and form. Here Popery shows her hand, and outdoes every thing that she dares yet show in New England. The music was exquisite, and the voices of the boys very sweet. Many of the people seemed in earnest. The priests appeared to me devoid of interest. We went one morning to the Pantheon. This noble church was formerly known as St. Genevieve, and was rebuilt, in 1764, by a lottery under the auspices of Louis XV. The portico is an imitation of the one at Rome on its namesake, and consists of Corinthian columns nearly sixty feet high, and five feet in diameter. The interior form is that of a Greek cross. Every thing here is grand and majestically simple. Above the centre of the cross rises a dome of great beauty, with a lantern above. In this building are one hundred and thirty columns. The church is three hundred and two feet by two hundred and fifty-five. In this building are the tombs and monuments of some of the great men of France. Voltaire, Rousseau, Mirabeau, and Marat were here buried, but were taken up by the Bourbons, at the restoration. La Grange and Lannes also rest here. Here we saw seven copies of the famous frescoes of Angelo and Raphael, in the Vatican, and several pieces of statuary. The vaults extend beneath the church to a great length. I believe this is the highest spot in Paris. On leaving the place, I looked again at the dome, which greatly pleased me. It is three hundred feet above the floor of the church; and the painting, by Gros, is very fine. I think we have seen nothing of the kind that is so beautiful. It is principally historical; and among the figures are Clovis, Clotilda, Charlemagne, St. Louis, Louis XVIII., and the Duchess d'Angoulême, with the infant Duke of Bourdeaux; and above all these, as in heaven, are Louis XVI., Marie Antoinette, Louis XVII., and Madame Elizabeth.

We were all thankful enough to find that the Louvre is at last open. We walked there, looking with interest at the Tuileries, which I cannot help admiring, although some think it devoid of architectural merit. Its wide-spread pavilions of one thousand feet, looming up with time-darkened walls, always please me. The palace of the Louvre is an older edifice than the Tuileries; the newer portion was the work of the reign of Louis XIV. The quadrangle is very fine, and the proportions of the entire building admirable. Our business was with that part called the Musée Royal, and here are the paintings and statues which have given such a renown to Paris. You must recollect, my dear fellow, that we cannot tell you all about these pictures, for the gallery is nearly one third of a mile in length, and each side is filled up with canvas, and the rooms are lofty. There was a time when almost all that continental Europe thought exquisite in art was to be found here. Bonaparte levied contributions on all the capitals he conquered, and here he deposited his ill-gotten spoils. Once were seen in this place the great masterpieces of Raphael, Guido, Titian, Domenichino, Murillo, Rubens, Rembrandt, Potter, and a host of other artists who created beauty; but when right overcame might, these pictures were returned to their original owners. The catalogue we bought was a volume of five hundred pages, and was only of statuary; and what could we do but walk, wonder, and admire? To examine would be a task and pleasure for three months. The department of statuary is very large; and here we saw surprising fragments of the Grecian and Roman schools. The paintings by Rubens here are numerous, but by no means as fine as those we saw at Antwerp and in the museums of Holland. All the great masters are here, and their works are finely arranged. We saw some of Claude Lorraine's that were beautiful; and some pictures that I missed, since I was here in 1836, have been transferred, I learn, by Louis Philippe, to Versailles and other palaces. The gallery has been thoroughly painted and beautified; and I never saw a place more radiant with gilding and frescoes. The ceilings are very gorgeous.

We selected a fine day for an excursion to Versailles; and, that we might have our pleasure consulted as to sight-seeing, we preferred a private carriage to the railroad. Versailles is about twelve miles from Paris, and has some twenty-five or thirty thousand inhabitants. Henry IV. used to resort here for hunting. Louis XIII. had a lodge here for his comfort when following the chase. Louis XIV. turned the lodge into a palace, and began operations in 1664. In 1681, he removed with his court to this place. The Chapel was begun in 1699, and finished in 1710. The Theatre was inaugurated at the marriage of Louis XVI., in 1770. A new wing was built by Louis XVIII. Louis Philippe made great additions, and devoted the palace to the noble purpose of a national depot of all that is glorious in the history of France. What Louis Philippe did here you may imagine, when I tell you that on the restoration and improvement of Versailles he expended fifteen millions of francs. Why, Charley, the stables are like mansions, and fine ones, too. The grand court is three hundred and eighty feet wide, and the Place d'Armes, which leads to it, is eight hundred feet wide. The iron railings which divide these are very richly gilt. On either side the court are ranges of buildings intended for the ministers of the king; and here are sixteen colossal marble statues, which I well remember, at the Pont de la Concorde, in Paris. They are great names of old and modern renown. In the centre of the court is a colossal equestrian statue of Louis XIV. Now comes another court devoted to royalty; and north and south are wings and pavilions, one built by Louis XV., and the other by Louis Philippe. Next we see the Cour de Marbre, around which is the old palace of Louis XIII., crowned with balustrades, vases, trophies, and statues. South of the Cour Royale is a small court called Cour des Princes, and divides the wing built by Louis XVIII. from the main body of the southern wing. The Grand Commun is a vast square edifice, enclosing a court. It has one thousand rooms; and when Louis XIV. lived here, three thousand people lodged: in this building. The chapel is exceedingly beautiful. It is in Corinthian style, and is one hundred and forty-eight feet by seventy-five, and ninety feet high. The front of the palace is magnificent in the highest degree. "It presents a large projecting mass of building, with two immense wings, and consists of a ground floor, first floor of the Ionic style, and attic. The wings exceed five hundred feet in length. The central front is three hundred and twenty feet long, and each of its retiring sides two hundred and sixty feet. The number of windows and doors of this front are three hundred and seventy-five." To describe the paintings and statuary would require a volume. Let me say that here on the walls is all the history of France that conduces to her glory. Every battle by land or sea, that she ever won, is here; but not an allusion to her defeats. I looked hard for Agincourt and Cressy; to say nothing of later conflicts, but they were not to be seen. Some of these pictures have great merit, while others are coarsely designed and executed. The historical series begins with the Baptism of Clovis, in 495, and comes down to the present period, with the illustration of about eleven hundred subjects. Then there are about one hundred views of royal palaces, and series as follows: Portraits of the kings of France, of French admirals, of constables of France, and of marshals of France, to the number of some two hundred and fifty; of French warriors, of personages who became celebrated in different ways, which amount to nearly eighteen hundred; and here we found several Americans. We noticed the likeness of Mr. Webster, by Healy; but the canvas is too small, and the picture has faded. It is not equal to the noble painting by Harding, which we saw just before we left home. These last portraits afforded us a great treat; and here we saw fine likenesses of the great ones of the earth. All the old pictures have dates of death, and many of birth. The sculpture gallery is very rich. There are more than six hundred figures, some of them exceedingly expressive and beautiful. I should think that more than two hundred and fifty of the historical paintings relate to events and persons connected with the power of Napoleon.

A very conspicuous feature is the series illustrating the conquest of Algiers. These are four in number, and are immense as to size—I should think thirty or forty feet in length. They are by Horace Vernet, and are very effective. The apartments of the palace are perfectly regal. They quite come up to one's preconceived ideas of the days of Louis le Grand. I looked with interest at the door through which Marie Antoinette made her escape, and whence she was dragged by the mob. The chamber of Louis XIV. is just as it was in his time. Here the grand monarch died upon that bed. There is the balustrade which fenced off the bed of majesty. The ceiling of this room has the noblest painting in France. It is Jove launching his bolts against the Titans, and was done by Paul Veronese. Napoleon brought it from Venice. There seemed no end to the apartments. We saw those of Madame Maintenon, the royal confessional, and the dining-room of Louis XIV., which was the cabinet of Louis XVI. In this room Louis XIV. entertained Molière when he had been ill treated or neglected by his ministers and courtiers. "I am told that the officers of my household do not find that you were made to eat with them. Sit down at this table, and let them serve us up breakfast." This was his language to the great poet, when he had called him to his presence. The king then helped him to a fowl's wing, and treated him in the most gracious manner. He knew the worth of genius. The king could make a marshal, but he could not make a poet. All the innumerable rooms have beautiful paintings and works of art. One room, called the Saloon of the Crusades, was delightfully interesting; and the great pictures of that apartment did much to impress the events of the holy wars upon our minds.

George was in ecstasies with the souvenirs of his idol the emperor; and as we shall leave him for five or six months in Paris, I expect that, in addition to the vast amount of knowledge which he really possesses of the history of Napoleon, he will return home posted up with all the on dits of the worshippers of the emperor.

The Theatre is very fine. It is quite large, and would be admired in any capital. It was built by Louis XV., at the instance of Madame Pompadour. It was Used by Louis Philippe, and we saw his seat.

The gardens are world renowned; so we must admire them. They did not quite come up to my notions. The fountains, statuary, ponds, orange-trees, are all very grand; but I cannot say that I was as pleased as the boys were. Perhaps I was weary; I know I was anxious. I had an old and valued friend living in Versailles, and was unable to ascertain her residence.

We went to the Grand and Petit Trianon. The great Trianon is a palace with one story, and having two wings. The little Trianon has two stories. Here royalty has loved to loiter when tired of the splendors of the stupendous palace close by. Here are some exquisite paintings, brought by Louis Philippe from the Louvre.

We repaired to a good café close by the palace, had a satisfactory dinner with Mr. Hodgson and his family, and then took our carriage for Paris.

Our route to Versailles was through Passy, where our Dr. Franklin lived in 1788, at No. 40 Rue Bass. Beranger resides in this village. It seems a favorite resort for genius; for here have resided the Chancellor D'Aguesseau, Boileau, Molière, and Condorcet.

We passed through Sèvres, where the beautiful china is manufactured, and drove through the Park of St. Cloud, the palace being in sight.

On our return, we drove leisurely through the Bois de Boulogne. These woods afford a fine opportunity to the Parisians for exercise, either on horseback or in carriages, and it is to Paris what Hyde Park is to London and the avenues are to New York, and much pleasanter than either. Here have been fought most of the duels which, in other days, have been so numerous in Paris, but which, I am glad to say, are getting into disrepute. The boys will write you before we leave Paris.

Yours always,


Letter 49.


Dear Charley:—

Our stay here at our present visit will be several days longer than we expected. We have to get clothing and various articles which can be obtained here to more advantage than in England or at home. We have been to some large jewelry establishments and made selections of presents for our absent but remembered friends. One morning we spent very pleasantly at a celebrated depot of glass manufactures. The display was very large, and also brilliant, and we made some pretty selections. The taste of the French is very great, and a large part of this population must live by furnishing the rest of the world with mere matters of bijouterie.

We have had the pleasure to meet several of the doctor's acquaintances from America; and among others whom we have often met have been Rev. Dr. Alexander, Rev. Dr. Ritchie, Hon. H.J. Raymond, Mr. G.P. Putnam, Mr. Bunting, Mr. Herring, Mr. Howard, &c. I have been much gratified in getting acquainted with Mr. Raymond, whom I have met several times. He is quite a young-looking man for one who holds his important position of speaker of the New York House of Assembly. I should not think him to be more than twenty-six or twenty-seven, though perhaps he is thirty. Mr. Putnam is the author of my favorite book, "The World's Progress,"—the book of dates,—and one which I recommend you, Charley, always to keep on your table, within reach, for reference.

If I live to return home, I have much to do that never before appeared to me of so great importance. I want to become thoroughly conversant with English and French history; for, in a certain sense, these countries embody the history of the world. Not to know what happened before we were born, is always to be children; and if my journey has done me no other good, it has very clearly shown me how little I know, and how very much I ought to understand, and must, if I would take my place among intelligent, well-educated men. I am sure, too, that I have acquired on this journey a desire to make improvement. Every where I find the records of intellect and genius, and I cannot, for very shame, be willing to go through life and enjoy the means of improvement, without deriving profit. We have met with very kind attentions from Mr. Hector Bossange, the great bookseller, who invited us to dinner. He is a gentleman of great activity, and seems always engaged; and yet I have noticed that such persons seem to have time for every one and every thing. I have noticed this at home, as well as abroad. Some of these men who have so much to do, and so many persons to see and be polite to, must work very hard at times, or else they understand the way to get through business in a patent method. These busy men seem to have read every thing; and even in new books they keep up with the times. They must do it, I guess, by remembering our old copy, that "spare minutes are the golden sands of life."

George is going to stay here for four or five months, and the doctor is busy in finding him a suitable home and getting him an outfit.

You would perhaps like to hear a little about the Hospital des Invalides, where the old soldiers of France bring up when past labor. It is a vast building, and covers sixteen acres, which, however, enclose fifteen various courts. It is governed and managed by the senior marshal of France, a lieu tenant general, commandant of the hotel, a colonel major, three adjutant majors, three sub-adjutant majors, one almoner, two chaplains, one apothecary and ten assistants, twenty-six sisters of charity, and two hundred and sixty servants. There are about one hundred and seventy officers, and about three thousand fire hundred invalids in all. This is a truly magnificent building, both architecturally considered and in its interior arrangements. The council chamber is very fine, and here are some admirable portraits and the best statue of Napoleon that is extant. The dome is very grand, but is at present invisible, on account of the alterations going on to complete the tomb of Napoleon. This will be the grandest tomb, probably, in the world. The sarcophagus is to rest on a platform, to which the access is by steps of green marble.

Sarcophagus at Napoleon's Tomb, and Key Sarcophagus at Napoleon's Tomb, and Key

Here is a good library and some MSS. of the two prime ministers, Sully and Colbert; a good picture of Napoleon and Louis Philippe; the cannon ball which killed Marshal Turenne, and his equestrian statue in gold and silver.

My favorite stroll here is in the Garden of the Tuileries. I am never weary of this place. Here are the finest flowers, the best walks, the gayest company, the prettiest children, and the densest shade, if you please to go into it, in Paris. Then, too, there are groups of statuary, and fountains with lofty jet, and proud swans in the reservoirs. I would like to have you walking in that thick forest growth; there is no underbrush; I can see from one side to the other. After a long walk, you come to the noble portals, guarded by lions couchant, and just beyond is the spot where Louis XVI. was guillotined. I do not believe there is a nobler view in Europe than now opens to the spectator. There before me is the Obelisk of Luxor, which was brought from Egypt, and now stands in the Place de la Concorde, its history, its removal, its present position, all serve to delight me. In itself it is a noble object, and my eye ever rests on it with pleasure.

Just think, Charley, that you are at my side: turn round, and look at the gardens we have left. There, see the long, low Tuileries, the palace of the Bourbons, the home of Napoleon, the residence of the citizen king, and now the Palace National. Off to the right is the Seine and its long line of quays; here is the bridge; and just across it is the Chamber of the Assembly, with twelve Corinthian columns, I like this building exceedingly. To our left is a long, stately range, known as the Rue Rivoli, in which we reside; it has an arched arcade in front; for foot passengers, and some hundreds of columns to support and adorn it. At this end of it are public offices. Now turn and look at our left; and see, a street cuts through this noble row, and at its end you see the pride of the city, the Madeleine. There it is, all white, and its stately columns tell of Greece. Now, if you turn your back upon the Tuileries, you will gaze upon the open space of the Champs Elysées, and look down along through that splendid avenue, and there see the finest thing in France—Bonaparte's triumphal arch. One word about this arch. It is the work of the emperor, who ordered its erection in 1806, when the foundation was laid. In 1814 it was suspended, but in 1823 it was resumed in honor of the Duke d'Angoulême's victories in Spain. In 1830 its original intention was adopted, and in 1836 it was completed, and its cost was nearly eleven millions of francs. It is a vast arch, ninety feet high and forty-five feet wide, with entablature and attic. Its total height is one hundred and fifty-two feet, breadth one hundred and thirty-seven feet, depth sixty-eight feet. On the fronts are colossal groups, in which the figures are eighteen feet. All these are historical, and tell of the great man in his fields of glory. You ascend this wonderful work of art by two hundred and sixty steps, and get the best view of Paris. Close by is the Hippodrome, of which some of us have told you, I suppose, during our last visit.

At less than a mile from this place is the Chapel of St. Ferdinand, built on the spot where the Duke of Orleans died, by a fall from his carriage, in 1842. It is a small building of stone, fifty feet long, and is of Gothic style. Here are many interesting objects—the marble group descriptive of the dying prince, and at his head an angel in supplication; this angel was the sculpture of his sister, the Princess Marie. The painted windows are exquisite representations of the patron saints of the royal family. Behind the altar is the room in which the duke died, now used as the sacristy of the chapel. Here, too, is a picture of the death bed. I am glad that I saw this, as the rest of the party were not able to be there.

The great National Library is in the Rue Vivienne. The building is a dark-looking affair, five hundred and forty feet long and one hundred and thirty feet wide. Inside is a court three hundred feet by ninety, and that is flanked with buildings. The library is in five sections: first, manuscripts; second, printed books; third, engravings; fourth; medals, &c.; fifth, marbles. Perhaps the best collection of early printing that Europe can show is in this place. You will be surprised when I tell you that there are here one million five hundred thousand works. I cannot attempt to tell you the curiosities that are to be seen here—gems, cameos, antiques, swords, armors, models, portraits, busts; and then, as for autographs, why, a collector could not fail to break the tenth commandment when he looked at the letters of this collection in glass cases. The engravings alone are a study for months.

I have to see my tailor, Mr. Woodman, who is a capital one; and then I must go to Forr, the boot-maker, of whom let me tell you a story. The doctor went to be measured, when we first arrived, and the man told him it was not necessary, as he had his measure. "How so?" he inquired. "Why, sir," replied the man, "I remember you fifteen years ago, at the Hotel Windsor;" and taking down his book, showed him his name, number of his room, &c. This I think a pretty considerable proof of memory, and equal to what we are told of some of our American landlords, who are said never to forget a face.

These engagements discharged, and I am ready to pack up. We all feel sad at leaving George, who has been a kind and amiable companion; but we hope soon to see him again.

Let me tell you that we are to have a new teacher. Dr. C. has engaged M. Oudin, a graduate of the University of Paris, to return with us. This gentleman is married; and we are all pleased with him and expect, of course, to profit under his instructions.

M. Oudin has taken us to see a very curious manufactory of fruits, fishes, &c. They certainly are lifelike. Then, too, there is a branch of this establishment devoted to the preparation of medical representations of disease, and the skill exhibited is very great. Our next letter will, I fancy, be from Old England. I feel sad at leaving France, for I do like her capital; and then I cannot help a fear that she has dark days not very far off. She talks of liberty at all her corners, but she seems to have none in her conduct of the daily press. There are too many soldiers here to please an American. At home we have all the blessings of government, and do not see the machinery. We have no soldiers to keep us moving along. I shall always think with pleasure of our month in this city; and if I ever come again, I have work chalked out for three months, at least.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 50.


Dear Charley:—

We had a pleasant time from Paris to Calais; and here we determined to pass a day, and look at a city which has been so celebrated both in the history of France and England. We put up at Quillac's. The population is about thirteen thousand. The town is strongly fortified, and has very few external attractions. The gate built by Richelieu in 1685, and delineated by Hogarth, still stands. You know that England held this town from 1347 to 1558; and, as a result, you can find several specimens of English Tudor architecture, especially the Hotel de Guise. The walks upon the fortifications are fine, and afford commanding views of the cliffs of the south coast of England. The place generally has some three or four thousand English, many of whom are refugees on account of debt. At eleven at night we went on board a French steamer for Dover; and the instant that she got outside the pier, she jumped like a mad thing. O, Charley, that was a horrid night! We were all sick, very sick indeed. It took us about three hours to get over, and we were thankful to land and take refuge for three or four hours in the quiet of our bedrooms. At eight we took the cars for London, and were at the Golden Cross, quietly settled down in our old quarters, by twelve o'clock. I ought to tell you that we hurried over in order to be here at the great entertainment which Mr. George Peabody gives to his excellency Abbott Lawrence and his lady, on the evening of the 4th of July. We were invited, and felt anxious to be there; as, in addition to the other notable characters, "the duke" was to be present. All that day the subject of the evening was the great topic with Americans; and as more than nine hundred acceptances were received to invitations issued, it was expected that the party would be interesting, and that many, who failed to obtain tickets, would be disappointed. The entertainment was given at Almack's, Willis's Room, St. James's, and upon a scale of great magnificence. It consisted of a concert at half past nine, a ball at eleven, and supper at one. The idea of celebrating our national independence in London, under the peculiar circumstances which London presents at this moment, was a happy one; and though some wise men doubted the wisdom of the measure, yet the result proved the prudence and practical good sense of its originator; and perhaps few men possess more of this admirable quality than Mr. Peabody. The rooms at Almack's are very spacious, so that there was ample space for the one thousand who proved to be present. At one end of the room were seen the portraits of the queen and Washington, surrounded by the flags of England and the United States; and around were placed busts of her majesty, Washington, Prince Albert, Franklin, Webster, and other celebrated men of both countries. Each lady was presented, on her entrance, with a fine bouquet. At half past nine the seats for the concert were entirely filled. The programme de concert was as follows:—

Conductor, SIGNOR ALARY.
Glee,   Messrs. Lee, Geuge, Hill, Smith, and Howe.
Duo,   "Al perigli."   { Signor Gardoni, }   Donizetti.
Signor F. Lablache,
Solo,   Violin.     Signor Sivori,     Sivori.
Melodie,   "Jusqu'a toi."     Signor Gardoni,     Schubert.
Aria,   "Non più audrai."     Signor Lablache,     Mozart.
Romance,   "Ah, mon fils."     Miss C. Hayes,     Meyerbeer.
Duo,   "Ah t inebria nell' amplesso."   { Ma'mselle Cruvelli, }   Verdi.
Signor Gardoni
Trio,   "Qual volutta."   { Miss Hayes, }   Verdi.
Signor Gardoni,
Signor Lablache,
Aria,   "Nel dolce incanto."     Mademoiselle Cruveli     De Beriot.
Solo,   Violin.     Signor Sivori,     Sivori.
Serenade,   "Qual Suon."   { Miss C. Hayes, }   Alary.
Signor Gardoni,
Duo,   "Un Segreta."   { Signor Lablache, }   Rossini.
F. Lablache,
Trio,   "Zitti, Zitti."   { Miss C. Hayes, }   Rossini.
Signor Gardoni
Signor Lablache
Piano Forte,         Signor Alary.      

The glees and madrigals were by the first-named artists; and the pieces were, "Spring's Delight," "Come, let us join the Roundelay," "Foresters sound the cheerful Horn," and "The Winds whistle cold."

The band for the ball was Coote & Tinney's. The concert was very fine. I was most pleased with Miss Hayes,—and next with Lablache, whose voice is the finest I ever heard. The duke came just at the close of the concert, as the seats were being removed for the dancing. Mr. Peabody met him in the reception-room, and led him to the upper end of the ball-room, where he was cordially greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. The band struck up, "See, the conquering hero comes," and I really felt that such a reception to such a man, and under such circumstances, was something for an American boy to see; and, if I live thirty or forty years, it will be something to tell about. There were but few comparatively who danced. The company were in groups, in the different rooms, taking refreshments. At one, supper was announced on the ground floor of the house; and here the press was felt to be greater than up stairs. The tables were most gorgeously laid out with every delicacy that unlimited outlay of expense could secure. Perhaps you would like to know some of the company who were present, belonging to England, and who certainly were present for the first time to celebrate the anniversary of American independence. There were the Duke of Wellington, Marquises of Ely and Clanricarde, Lord Glenelg, Lord Charles Manners, Lord Charles Russell, Lord Mayor of London and Lady Mayoress, Viscount Canning, Lord and Lady Dormer, Lord Hill, Lord Stuart, Baron and Lady Alderson, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Lady Mary Wood; Mr. Justice and Lady Coleridge, the Governor of the Bank of England, Joseph Hume, M.P., and family, Lady Morgan, Miss Burdett Coutts, Admiral Watkins, the Countess of Eglinton, Countess Powlett, Lady Talbot Mala hide, and a very long et cetera. Mr. Peabody could not have served his country better than by affording an opportunity for the great and distinguished of England to meet a large party of his countrymen on an occasion dear to Americans, and especially dear when they are far away from their country, and feel that, under the broad flag of the stars and stripes they are every where as safe as if they were in New York or Boston. It was very clear that hostile feeling had ceased, and that the great Anglo-Saxon family can now meet any where and display the brotherhood which they ought ever to feel. Such a meeting could not have taken place twenty years ago; and perhaps this beautiful demonstration would never have been afforded, if the thought had not presented itself to our host, who had the means to carry out the idea with a nobleness that did honor to himself and his country. We left the rooms on a bright, starlight morning, just as day was opening her eye, and were soon comfortably housed at our pleasant home. I write in haste, for we have much to do before we leave London.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 51.


Dear Charley:—

We have had one of the most agreeable days that I have spent in England. We received a kind invitation from his excellency Baron Vanderweyer, the Belgian minister, to attend a party given by his lady to the young nobility. The invitations were for five o'clock. We found the finest collection of children and young people, from about four years old up to sixteen, that I ever saw gathered together. I should think there were two hundred and fifty. More beautiful children cannot probably be found; and they were dressed in fine taste, and some very richly. One little fellow, about six years old, was, I think, the noblest-looking boy my eyes ever rested upon. Dr. C. inquired of two or three persons whom he knew, who the lad was; and just then an elegant and fashionable-looking lady expressed how much she felt flattered by the kind things said of the little fellow, and told him that it was her son, the eldest son of the Marquis of O——d, and then called him out of the dance, and introduced the little Lord Ossory to him. Among the illustrious juveniles was the future Duke of Wellington, and grandson of the Iron Duke. He is now about four or five years old. I think the sight was one of the prettiest I ever had the pleasure to witness. A few of the parents and older friends of the children were present; and in the company was Mr. Bates, whose kindness to us has been very great.

One evening this week Dr. Choules preached at Craven Chapel, near Regent Street, where he had been requested to speak about America, and he took up Education—the voluntary principle—and Slavery. On the last topic he gave some truths that were probably very unpalatable. He stated that the good people here knew next to nothing of the subject; that its treatment amongst us could not be suffered by strangers; and that all interference with it by this nation was as impolitic, and in as bad taste, as it would be for an American to visit England and commence a crusade against the expenditures of the royal household, as a crying sin, while there was misery among the masses in many parts of the kingdom. He spoke of the extreme prejudice which he had met upon the subject, and the rudeness's into which he had found men fall, who seemed to have forgotten every courtesy of life. He gave them many facts, which, though perfectly correct, yet he said he supposed would be interpreted as a special plea on behalf of slavery—although nothing could be more untrue. The prejudice existing here is amusing. They seem to take it for granted that every American raises cotton, sugar, and tobacco, and, therefore, is a slaveholder. However, I find most persons of candor ready to acknowledge that it is questionable whether any good can possibly result from sending English agents to agitate the slavery question in the United States.

There are a great many things which we have seen in London that are less worthy of note than those we have written you about, and yet in themselves are very useful and interesting; and we hope the remembrance of them will be of service to us hereafter. I have been much struck with the prevalence of the same names in the streets as those which are so familiar to me on our signs and boards. We have most clearly a common origin, and there are no two nations in the world between whom there is of necessity so much sympathy on all great questions.

We have visited the exhibition several times since our return, with fresh pleasure on every occasion. In point of show and splendor, we are doing little in competition with the English, French and Belgian exhibitors; but we have a wonderful deal here that proves Jonathan to be a smart chap at invention, and no slouch at labor-saving operations. We cannot afford to spend the labor of freemen, who own their houses and farms and gardens, upon single pieces of furniture that would take six months to complete. Our time is too valuable for this. The pauper labor of Europe will, I hope, long continue to be cheaper, than the toil of American mechanics. I do not want to see a man working for thirty cents a day. The people of England must laugh in their sleeves when they see every steamer bringing out our specie from America, and when they see us sacrificing our true interests to aid the destructive policy of free trade. I have never thought so much about the tariff as since I have been here, and I am now convinced that we ought to give suitable encouragement to all kinds of manufactures in our country, and so afford a regular market for the products of the agriculturist. The English agents that flood our country are placing the land under a constant drain; and our specie must go abroad, instead of circulating at home. It is only in times of great scarcity that England will want much of our wheat or corn; and the English very freely avow that they hope to be able, ere long, to get their cotton from the East. It seems to me that our Southern States will need their New England constant market, and that our true policy is to take care of ourselves. Certainly there is a great variety of opinion here about free trade, and I hear gentlemen debate strongly against it. The reciprocity of England is a queer thing. All this yarn, Charley, grows naturally out of my starting-point about the exhibition.

We go to-night to Bristol, to visit our kind friends once more; thence we run into South Wales, and afterwards set our faces homeward.

Yours, &c.,


Letter 52.


Dear Charley:—

We have been here with the doctor's friends for several days, and had a most delightful time. Nothing can be more kind than their attentions to us; and the young men—I wish you knew them—have been constantly doing every thing in their power to make our visit here agreeable.

We were glad to find Mr. W—— recovering from his accident; and as the family were at Western Super Mare, a watering-place about seven miles off, for his health, we went and passed a couple of days with them. This place is on the banks of the Bristol Channel; the air is thought to be the finest on the western coast of England, and is, we thought, very much like our Newport air. When the tide is in the scenery is pretty, and the Welsh hills; at sunset are beautiful. Off in the Bristol Channel are two islands, called the Flat and Steep Holmes.

The houses here are neat, and the best are lodging-houses. Some of the rows are very pretty, and are sufficiently cosy to accommodate small families.

The true way to enjoy the seaside is to have your own snug quarters. Here the people are wise enough to build close to the sea, and rows of houses are found all round the bay.

We had a charming ride to a lofty hill, about two miles off, and the prospect was very fine.

Here, as on the continent, we found large numbers of donkeys, with drivers, and ladies use them in their little excursions; and many of them are attached to Bath chairs, a small gig, and a very comfortable conveyance, too, as we proved. The vehicle is made for one person.

I cannot say much for the bathing, which is greatly admired here, but was far too muddy for our taste, after an acquaintance with the noble beach at home.

The museum of the Baptist College in Bristol is very fine, and the library is large and one of great value. The collection of Bibles is the best in the kingdom, and here is the only copy of Tindal's New Testament. The miniature of Oliver Cromwell, by Cooper, is valuable, and has been often engraved.

We have several times attended worship at a very beautiful Gothic chapel at Bristol, called Highbury Chapel. It is a perfect gem, built in the Gothic style of the fifteenth century. The edifice is of stone, the roof and wood-work of oak, the pulpit freestone, and over it is a fine painted window. It is one of the prettiest churches we have seen in England; and what gives great interest to the building is the fact that it stands upon the spot where five martyrs were burnt, in the days of Popery, when Queen Mary was on the throne. This burning of Protestants only happens when Catholics have power; they do not advocate the measure in America, although their boast is that their system knows no change. Inquisitions and martyrs' fires are the adult growth of Popery. If I wanted to know how liberal institutions worked, I would look at them where they were established and flourished without hinderance; and if I wanted to know what Popery is, I would go and look at it in its proper territories—Spain, Italy, and Austria. There Popery is intolerant. In France the wings of Romanism are clipped; and if the patronage of the state were withdrawn, as very likely it may before long, the crumbling edifice would fall.

The Rev. Mr. Thomas, the pastor of Highbury Chapel, is a man of superior intellect, and we heard a very fine sermon from him.

I never was in a place where there are so many local charities as I find at Bristol. Every ailment of man seems here to be provided with its needed cure; and as for orphan asylums and refuges for the aged, blind, strangers, &c., they are every where to be found. The Infirmary is a noble institution, and always has two hundred patients in the wards; two thousand were received last year, and eight thousand out-door cases received treatment. A refuge for the houseless poor, opened in winter at eight o'clock, and supported by subscription, has been very useful. I think there are at least thirty different almshouses for the aged and indigent of both sexes; and some of these places are as neat as any thing can be, as to their accommodation.

We like Bristol—its fine old houses, its streets, that tell so plainly of other days, its beautiful environs, and its generous citizens. I wish you could see the prospect from the drawing-room window at a house where we have often visited, and always with pleasure. The house stands on a very high hill; the drawing-room has a large bay window, and outside a balcony. You look down into a charming garden, with fine trees and fountains,—the ground being on a great declivity, I should think a slope of fifty degrees,—and then from the balcony you have the entire city laid out before you, down, down in the valley; while before you, and on either hand, stretch away the hills which adorn this noble city. The towers and steeples of the glorious old churches make the prospect, of a fine, clear summer evening, one never to be forgotten. Go where I may, that room, and the kind faces of those who meet in it will often rise in memory.

I have never had my feelings so enlisted by strangers as at Bristol; and we all feel quite at home here.

We are to go off to-morrow on an excursion to Monmouthshire, and see Chepstow, Tintern Abbey, and Ragland Castle, and expect that this last of our wanderings will be very gratifying.

I have not told you how much we have enjoyed the fruit in England and on the continent. Cherries and strawberries have been daily on our tables, and of the best kinds. I do not think we ever enjoyed a fruit season so much as this summer. In this humid climate the strawberry grows to an immense size; and the gooseberry, which is here in high favor, is a far finer fruit than with us.

Yours affectionately,


Letter 53.


Dear Charley:—

Let me tell you of a charming trip which we have had this week to Chepstow Castle and its neighborhood. We have told you all about the beautiful scenery of Clifton, and the Hot Wells at this place, and the fine old rooks. Well, now we took passage in a little steamer, and went down the Avon between these lofty rocks, and had a new and enlarged view of this wondrous formation. The boat was well filled with tourists, as this is a fashionable trip. The Avon for four miles is quite Rhenish in its aspect; and one or two old castled towers on its crags afford a sort of reminiscence of what we lately saw on the river of rivers.

We soon got out of the Avon into King Road, and there met the tide setting strongly from the Severn—a large river, which divides Monmouthshire from Gloucestershire. We then stretched across the estuary, and were in the Wye—one of the most romantic rivers in the country, the scenery of which will occupy much of this letter.

After going up the river a little way, we saw a town upon the left bank and a noble castle. This is Chepstow. It is finely ensconced in a hollow. The town is irregular, and depends for its prosperity on its commerce. The castle is really a noble ruin and crowns a high bluff which rises from the river. I do not know how any one can ask for a lovelier landscape than is opened to the view off the bridge which spans the river.

The castle was built by a relation of William the Conqueror. Its style is Norman, with more modern additions. The tide rises here to an elevation of from fifty to sixty feet. This is owing to rooks which stretch into the Severn near the mouth of the Wye, and, by hindering the tide, turn it into this small river.

On landing, we engaged a carriage and pair of horses for the excursion, and were soon off. We stopped for lunch at St. Arvan's, a village one mile off, and a beautiful place it is—a perfect gem of a country street. But the glorious scenery of the region calls off attention from the modest hamlet. How I should like, as in my boyish days, to make head-quarters here for a week, and then strike out for daily explorations.

We passed by the fine mansion at Piercefield, and devoted our time to the glorious points of natural scenery on the banks of this most charming stream—for Americans can hardly call it a river. We walked now about two miles through an oak wood, in which is a sprinkling of ash and elm, till we came to the very edge of a cliff called the "Lover's Leap." It overhangs an awful abyss, the depth of which is softened down by the woods which cover the neighboring rooks. A little off from this we came to the famous Wynd Cliff. Its summit is fringed with wood, and covers its declivities down to the river. To describe the scenery, my dear boy, from this spot, is quite beyond my ability. I wish that Sir Walter Scott had attempted it, and made this region the scene of one of his beautiful creations. From this spot you see all the course of the Wye, with its numerous sinuosities—in one place cutting out a few acres into a horse-shoe peninsula. As the eye follows down the river, you gaze on perpendicular, rocky cliffs, and can hardly persuade yourself that you do not look at the immense fortifications of a town. But that peaceful little peninsula at my feet; it is called Llanicut. Such a farm! such elms! all forming a landscape unrivalled. But look beyond the Wye, and, just away there, is the noble Severn. Ay, that is a river. There it rolls and foams down through the rich county of Gloucestershire, and empties into the Bristol Channel. Then away, beyond to the right are the bold, swelling hills of Somersetshire. I cannot but wish that Claude had seen the Wye and Severn; the noblest of his pictures would have been illustrative of this region.

When we had sufficiently delighted ourselves with the far-spread scene, we descended by a winding path through the woods and down the almost perpendicular rock. The road was a very zigzag. We came down three hundred and sixty steps, and, passing a rustic bridge, entered a moss cottage, the small windows of painted glass, the table the base of a mighty oak, sawn off and polished. The walls are lined with moss. Here we got refreshments, and talked of those who had been here with us on former visits—some in America, others farther off; and yet perhaps not; for we know not how, or where, some of our best friends exist; but we know and feel that they do greatly live.

In approaching Tintern, we passed the iron works, which at night throw a solemn glow over the entire village. The cottages around are very humble residences. The inn is a small but cosy affair, and is not destitute of much real comfort. There is the abbey at the water side, and opposite the rocky hill bank and hanging wood. The access to the abbey is poor, but this is quite forgotten as you enter this glorious sanctuary of other days. There are few ancient edifices in Great Britain, now in ruins, which attract so much attention from the curious traveller as Tintern Abbey, on the Wye.

The beauty of the river is proverbial, yet has never been adequately described; but the best idea of its diversified charms may be gathered from "Gilpin's Picturesque Scenery and Observations upon the Wye."

Tintern was a Cistercian abbey, and was founded in 1131, by Walter de Clare, and dedicated to St. Mary on its completion in 1287. The dress of the Cistercians was a white cassock, with a narrow scapulary, and over that a black gown, when they went abroad, but a white one when they went to church. They were called white monks, from the color of their habit.

The dimensions of this church are as follows: length, two hundred and twenty-eight feet, and the transept one hundred and fifty feet long; breadth of the aisles, each eighteen feet. There are in the sides ten arches; between each column fifteen feet, which is the span of the arches.

The interior of this monastery presents the best specimen of Gothic architecture in England. The east window is a most magnificent affair, sixty-four feet high, and calls forth universal admiration. The very insignificant doorway was, no question, intended by the architect to form a strong contrast with the elevation of the roof. The abbey is cruciform; its ruins are perfect as to the grand outline; and I am sure we should like to pass the entire day within this venerable fane. The walls of the tower are seventy-two feet high, and covered with ivy, moss, and lichens, but show no indications of decay.

Very few Americans visit this region; but I think that they can see nothing in England at all comparable to this ruin.

Among the relics that are to be seen here is the effigy of a knight in chain mail, the remains of a virgin and child, and the head of a shaven friar. Here, too, are several monkish tombstones.

We were obliged to resume our places in the carriage, and ride some twelve miles, in order to visit the finest baronial ruins in the kingdom. We reached the quiet little village of Ragland, and, putting up our horses, gave orders for dinner, and then repaired to the castle, which we found near by, crowning a slight eminence with its stately towers. We approached through a grove of truly venerable oaks and elms, and all at once we were at the warder's gate; and entering into the terrace, formerly the eastern court, a most splendid vision burst upon our sight. Here are three pentagonal towers, with machicolated battlements, and showing all the marks of war. This is the most perfect part of the ruin, and seems likely to stand for ages. The ivy clusters over the towers most gracefully. Off to the left, insulated by a moat, stands the remains of a tower, once the citadel. We advance through the Gothic portal into the second court, and here are shafts and arches, and grooves through which the portcullis used to present itself to the besiegers. Next is the paved court, where once were the men at arms with iron tread; now a velvet lawn is seen, and many a vigorous tree is spreading its roots. Here we get a fine view of the majestic window of the hall of state. Through an arch is the way to the kitchen. The fireplace has a span of thirteen feet, and is made of two stones. Then we come to the baron's hall, of noble dimensions. On the walls are the stone sculptured arms of the Marquis of Worcester. The chapel was a narrow room; and, nearly concealed by ivy, are two effigies. The south-west tower contained the apartments occupied by Charles I. after the battle of Naseby, in 1645. The grand terrace is in tolerable order, and you proceed to it by a bridge. We ascended the towers and gazed on majesty in ruins. We saw nothing on the continent finer than Ragland Castle. The prospect from the great tower is the finest that can be imagined, and I almost fear to tell you its extent.

You may imagine that we felt unusually interested at this place, from the fact that here the Marquis of Worcester invented the steam engine.

The castle was devastated by the parliamentary troops under Fairfax, having surrendered in 1646. The defence was gallant, but unavailing.

The warder of the castle is a very gentlemanly man. He took us into his apartments in one of the towers, and we found that he was a very respectable amateur in painting. Some of his oil paintings were very creditable. An infant girl, of great beauty, his daughter, answered to the name of Blanche Castle May, and was the first-born child under that roof since its desolation.

Here, as well as at Tintern Abbey, I obtained ivy roots for Mr. Hall, and hope to see them flourishing on the walls of his beautiful stone house in Rhode Island.

We retired slowly from this romantic ruin, and at the hotel found an excellent dinner. One dish was fit for a king—sewen, young salmon, or a species of salmon, for there is much dispute among naturalists as to the identity of these fish. Any how, they are fine beyond any fish. They were about two and a quarter pounds each, and are so delicate that they do not well bear transportation.

We returned to Chepstow that evening, having a fine ride through a new piece of scenery, and were quite ready for a sound night's rest. In the morning we looked at the castle in Chepstow, which is remarkably fine, and is of extreme antiquity; some of the arches of the castle chapel indicating clearly a Saxon origin. One of the priestly legends is that this chapel was built by Longinus, a Jew, and father of the soldier who pierced the side of Christ. This was the belief of the ancient population of this charming region.

All around this town Roman coins are frequently turned up; and I obtained from a gentleman a very well-preserved Cæsar silver coin, dug up a day or two before.

This castle was for more than twenty years the prison home of Henry Marten, one of the regicides. He is buried in the parish church, and in the north transept is the following acrostical epitaph which he composed for his monument:—

Here, September 9, 1680,

was buried

A true-born englishman,

Who in Berkshire was well known
To love his country's freedom 'bove his own;
But being immured full twenty year,
Had time to write, as doth appear.


Here or elsewhere (all's one to you, to me)
Earth, air, or water gripes my ghostly dust
None know how soon to be by fire set free;
Reader, if you an old-tried rule will trust,
you will gladly do and suffer what you must.

My time was spent in serving you, and you,
And death's my pay, it seems, and welcome, too;
Revenge destroying but itself, while I
To birds of prey leave my old cage, and fly;
Examples preach t' the eye; care then, (mine says,)
Not how you end, but how you spend your days.

Colonel Henry Marten was one of the noble assertors of English liberty who dared to oppose a weak, but cruel and capricious tyrant. If ever a monarch was a tyrant and despot, it was the first Charles. No American citizen who thinks that Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, John Hancock, Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and George Washington were praiseworthy for the resistance which they offered to the aggressions of George III., can for one moment fail to reverence Eliot, Hampden, Marten, Whalley, Ludlow, Pym, and Cromwell for their noble opposition to Charles and his tormentor general, that incarnation of sanctimonious cruelty, Archbishop Laud. It is one of the signs that a "good time is coming" that public opinion in England, as well as in America, is fast setting in favor of Cromwell and his noble coadjutors. They opposed measures rather than men; and what proves that they were right in expelling the Stuarts from power is the fact that when, by infatuation, "the fated race" was restored, and again played over former pranks, the people had to oust the family in 1688, and thus by another national verdict confirm the wisdom and patriotism of the men who had formerly dared to teach a tyrant the rights of freemen. Marten was a noble spirit, but his morals were not as correct as those of his political associates.

The game now played by the advocates of high church and state notions in England and America is to represent the republican party as illiterate and narrow minded. A viler falsehood was never sworn to at the Old Bailey. The leading men of the party who opposed the royal tyrant were scholars, and ripe ones. If any man doubts it, let him read their speeches, peruse their lives, and study their writings. Prynne did not lose his acquirements nor his brains when Charles and Laud cropped his ears, and, loving the sport, came back for a second harvest, and "grubbed out the stumps" remaining from the first operation. Read his folios, quartoes, and octavoes, and from one of these men estimate the others. If you want to know the real character of Cromwell and his party, as to their knowledge and love of good letters, look at the patronage which the government gave to learning. Owen was chancellor of Oxford, Milton and Thurlow were secretaries, and their friends were called into public life. Were these men barbarians and enemies to learning? The men who were educated at Oxford and Cambridge at this period were the ornaments of learning and religion for the next forty years. The day has gone by forever when Cromwell's name can be used as synonymous with fraud, ignorance, and hypocrisy. Kings and prelates may hate him, but a liberty-loving world will enshrine his character in the sanctuary of grateful hearts and faithful memories.

After crossing the Severn at the old Passage, or Aust, where it is two miles wide, we took carriage to Bristol. This parish of Aust gave a church living to the immortal Wickliffe, who received the appointment from Edward III.

The drive to the city was a rich enjoyment. Every acre is in the highest cultivation, and the charming villas of the merchant princes of Bristol make the eleven miles an entire garden scene.

Four miles from the city we came to Henbury, regarded by the citizens as their finest suburban spot. It is indeed beautiful. There are here about a dozen exquisite cottages, built in 1811, by Mr. Harford, who lives in Blaize Castle. The founder's object was purely benevolent—to provide a comfortable asylum for aged females, who had income enough to support them, if only relieved from house rent. The forms of these cottages are all different, but they were the earliest specimens in our times of the adoption of the old Elizabethan style. They are perfect bijoux, and the taste displayed in the shrubberies is very great.

Blaize Castle is a fine building, and surrounded by noble woods. The castle is a circle, flanked With three round towers.

I ought not to omit that we had on this trip the pleasure of being accompanied by a gentleman from Bristol, whose taste and perfect knowledge of the ground afforded us much gratification. I allude, to Mr. Dix, author of "Pen and Ink Sketches," which formerly appeared in the Boston Atlas. Mr. Dix was with us at Windsor Castle, and when he heard from Weld French or George Vanderbilt that Robinson's birthday would occur shortly, he noted it, and sent James the following pretty lines, which reached him May 15th, in Paris. I think you will be pleased with them.


When wandering neath old Windsor's towers
We laughed away the sunny hours,
You asked me for a simple rhyme;
So now accept this birthday chime.
No poet I—the "gift divine"
Ne'er was, and never will be, mine;
But take these couplets, which impart
The anxious wishes of my heart,
In place of more aspiring lay,
To greet you on your natal day.
Boy of that country of the brave,
Beyond the Atlantic's western wave,
I, dweller in the motherland,
A welcome give with heart and hand;
And on your birthday breathe a prayer
That you may every blessing share;
That your world journey may be blest
With all that may prepare you best
For the approaching eve of age—
The end of mortal pilgrimage.
Upon your brow of youthful bloom
I would not cast a shade of gloom;
Yet did I say that life will ever
Flow onward like a placid river,
With only sunshine on its breast,
That ne'er 'twill be by storms distressed,
I should but flatter to deceive,
And but a web of falsehood weave.
Yet, checkered though life's path may seem,
Life's pleasures are not all a dream.
What shall I wish you? I would fain
That earthly greatness you may gain;
But if that guerdon is not sent,
Be with some humble lot content;
And let this truth be understood—
Few can be great, all may be good.
Power, pomp, ambition, envy, pride,
Wrecked barks adown life's stream may glide,
Ruined by some fierce passion throe,
E'er, reckless, o'er Time's brink they go;
But if fair virtue grasps the helm,
Nor storm nor wave can overwhelm.
That many happy years be yours:
Seek truth which every good insures;
Press on, though clouds may intervene
And for a moment veil the scene.
Think of the great ones of your land,
And, like them, strive with heart and hand
To leave a name, when you depart,
Which shall be dear to many a heart.
Determine in life's early morn
All good to prize, all ill to scorn,
And aim to live and die as one
Worthy the land of Washington!

Yours affectionately,


Letter 54.


Dear Charley:—

Well, this looks like the back track; and here we are at the Adelphi, ready to take our passage in the noble Atlantic, which is as good as new again, and will sail on the twenty-third. We left Bristol with much regret, for we there have formed acquaintances which we shall often remember with affection and gratitude; and I wish we could meet them in America, and have an opportunity to reciprocate some of the many kindnesses we met with at their hands. We took the railroad for Cheltenham, and passed through some charming country before we reached the old city of Gloucester. On our left were the flint towers of Berkeley Castle, where the second Edward was so savagely murdered by his wife's command.

Cheltenham is about forty miles from the city of Bristol, and we found it all that Dr. C. had described it—a very nice modern town indeed. It is like our Saratoga, but much more beautiful. The population is about thirty thousand, and the strangers who resort there in the season are probably five thousand more. The waters are in high repute, and are regarded as strongly cathartic. The buildings are very fine, and the entire air of the place is unlike any thing we have seen in England. Other places seem old. This is new, and looks fresh and American in that respect, but vastly more elegant and permanent than our towns usually are. We had very kind attentions here from the Rev. Mr. Gilby, the rector of the parish church, and who strongly urged us to stay over the day; but we resumed the cars, got to Birmingham at ten o'clock, and went to our old quarters at the Hen and Chickens. The next day we devoted to the survey of this vast toy shop. Our greatest gratification was at the royal papier maché and japan works of Jennens & Bettridge. To this firm we had introductions, and we went through every department of the establishment. When we came to the show-rooms we were all tempted by the beauty of the finished wares, and made several purchases. Here, too, are other manufactories for pins and pens; but I must pass them by. We called on the Rev. John Angell James, who has lived here so long, and made a world-wide reputation. He looks very hearty and vigorous, and shows no signs of age. He has lived in his house forty-five years. We obtained his autograph. We also called on Rev. Mr. Swan, an old friend of the doctor in early days, and had a pleasant chat. Mr. Swan was once a professor in the college at Serampore, in India. He is full of life and animation; and it seems to me that people here are more vivacious and sprightly than with us—old folks and middle-aged ones certainly are. We took dinner with Mr. Vanwart, brother-in-law to Washington Irving, and shall not soon forget the elegant hospitality of his mansion. He resides about two miles from the town; and his lawn gave us a fine view of the English thrush and blackbird, of which birds there were plenty on the grass. It was so cold that we had to have fires, although the 19th of July. Mr. Vanwart was one of the saved, when the Atlantic was lost in the Sound, November 26, 1846; and he made the kindest inquiries after you and the family, and said that when he next visited America he should find you out. That evening we reached Liverpool, and had a quiet Sabbath, but a very stormy one. It rained harder than any day since we have been abroad. We attended church in the morning, and heard a very eloquent sermon from Mr. Birrel, and Dr. C. preached for him at night. The Europa arrived on this day, and we met friends from Boston—among others the Rev. Dr. Peck. On Monday we went to Chester, the finest old city in England, with a population of twenty-four thousand. It claims an antiquity equal to any city in the world; for they say it was founded by the grandson of Japhet, two hundred and forty years after the flood! Any how, it was great in Roman days—great in the days of Alfred. No town in the country has a more thorough history; and we have two very interesting octavoes filled with it, and richly illustrated with antique engravings. It is a walled city, and has undergone many sieges and blockades. The castle has great celebrity, and is of Norman origin. Its walls are one mile and three fourths in length, and there are four great gates. The bridge over the Dee has seven arches, and is as old as the Norman conquest. The cathedral was built in the days of Henry VII. and Henry VIII. It is composed of red stone, and has a fine front. The chapter-house in the cloisters is universally admired by antiquarians. We went into one very old church, which was undergoing restoration. The town, like Berne, has rows in front of the houses, supported by pillars so that, in shopping, you walk under covered galleries.

We returned to Liverpool, and dined with a gentleman who has been very polite to us—Mr. Thomas Davies, a celebrated maker of gold watches. From him I obtained one, preferring an English to a Swiss timepiece. Here we saw the cultivation of plants in the house in greater perfection than I recollect elsewhere.

To-morrow we are to take our departure; and, though very glad to return home, yet I feel sorry at leaving a country where there is so much that is excellent and noble and beautiful. I have learnt, certainly, that England and America have too much in common to justify the indulgence of hatred and prejudice; and I find the tone of feeling here, among wise and-good people, very kind towards America. I have rarely heard a reflection upon our country, excepting upon our slavery. That they must talk about; and they are a little like the man who, having just got rid of the irritable affection supposed to trouble the North Britons, could not for his life help speaking of sulphur. An Englishman is sure to tell you that he is free from this sin—yes, washed, but scarcely dry.

Our hotel is filling up with Americans, and, we expect to meet many friends on board the Atlantic. I am much pleased with the appearance of Captain West; he looks every inch an admiral. And now, my dear fellow, I shall see you, perhaps, before you read my letter; but I have kept my promise to tell you what we saw and did. Of course many things will occur to our memories when we get home, and will furnish matter for chitchat which I hope soon to have with you, as in days of old. Well, you are now at the business of life, and I am yet a little longer to spend my time in preparation for it. I wonder how we shall come out, Charley? But time will tell, and let us do our best.

Yours affectionately,


P.S. I must not forget to tell you that, while at Bristol, the doctor and I ran up to Windsor to see the royal agricultural exhibition, held this year in the Home Park. James stopped with our friends, and we were anxious to see the great show of England in her farming interest. The display was very great, and the cattle were wonderfully fine in all the departments—Durham, Hereford, Devons, and Channel Island. The last are very nice animals for a paddock, and give good milk. The horses were good; and I longed to bring home one or two that I saw, and felt strongly tempted. But the sheep and swine were the most remarkable things there. Really, we know little about sheep. They are monstrous, and yet very symmetrical and beautiful; whilst there are pigs, strange as you may think it, that have established high claims to beauty and perfection. I greatly preferred the Sussex breed to any other. Never was a town so crowded as this same Windsor. Thousands upon thousands were flocking into it; and how and where they fed I cannot divine. Money seemed useless, and waiters hardly looked at half crowns for retaining fees.

Letter 55.

New York, August 3,1851.

Dear Charley:—

We are, through the goodness of Providence, safely returned. We had a good voyage, in a capital ship, and under the charge of as good a captain as ever sailed the ocean. Our passengers were about one hundred and thirty in number, and very agreeable—some few were our old voyagers in the Arctic. With an exception or two, our way was as pleasant as it could have been; and there were some cheerful spirits that knew how to create sunshine at all hours. I cannot tell what travellers can desire in a steamer which they will not find in the Collins line. It seems to us that we have had the full worth of the money paid for passage. How different it is to come to New York in ten days, instead of being on the ocean for sixty-four days, as I have in a sailing packet! Well, this saving of time and feelings is worth the difference of the passage price. I am at a loss to understand how Americans who have to cross the ocean should think of supporting the English steamers in preference to our own superior ships. The influence of every English agent, of course, goes out in behalf of the old line; and all sorts of stories are told about winter passages, the importance of boats especially built for strength, and the advantages of experience. Now, the history of the American line is a perfect refutation of all this twaddle. The truth is, that all voyaging is connected with exposedness to some danger; and up to this moment the Americans have had, in all their ocean steam voyages, the full measure of success. They have lost no boat, they have sacrificed no lives, and they present a fleet of steamships the like of which the world cannot equal. Whenever an American citizen takes his passage in a foreign steamer, and an American one is at hand, he tacitly confesses the superiority of other lands, in ocean navigation, to his own country, and he contributes his full share to depress American enterprise, and aids so far as he can to insure its failure. The eyes of the English nation are upon our ships; and if we desire the spread of our national fame, we should, every man of us, labor to sustain our own steamers and propellers. And the government of our country should strenuously guard the interests of this available arm of national defence; and the country at large, would certainly sustain Congress in liberal support of this truly American enterprise.

Perhaps, Charley, you are ready to say to us, "Well, what do you think, after all you have been seeing in other lands?". I reply: We think that we return home with all our hearts more warmly attached to our beloved land than when we left her shores. We have seen lands, as fair, and fields as fertile, as our own. We have seen monarchies and republics; but nowhere have we seen man as erect and self-respecting as at home. Here we have equal laws, civil and religious liberty, no bishop to intimidate a day laborer who prefers to pass by his cathedral gates and worship his Maker in a humbler temple. Here our streets are not labelled with "Liberté, Egalité, Fraternité," but the things signified are known and felt by every man that traverses these avenues of business. Here we have not thousands of armed men in this great city to preserve liberty; but every man enjoys it, and sees nothing of the government, which, though unseen, is all-powerful in the affections of the country.

We come home grateful that we have such a country; and though we love and admire much, very much, in England, yet we rejoice that we can call the United States our land. We hope we are better prepared than before we started to do her service. I am quite satisfied, Charley, that God has not done for any other people what he has for us. We know nothing of the restless anxiety which depresses men in England as to the means of procuring the necessaries of life. We have our chief anxieties called out in reference to the obtaining the luxuries and embellishments of life; the necessaries are almost certain to every man who has health and character. But in England, toil is poorly requited; and a father and husband may, after unremitting labor, have to find his refuge, and his only one, in that petition of the Lord's Prayer, which you and I never employed in pure faith, "Give me this day my daily bread." We say so; but we know whence it is coming to us. He knows not; and what he knows not, he asks God after.

A thoughtful and humane American cannot travel in Europe without having his sympathies daily called out in behalf of the sufferings of man. I am no apologist for slavery; I deeply lament its existence; but I believe that there is as much suffering in coal pits and manufacturing districts of England as in our southern slave states. In regard to England, I feel encouraged. In an absence of fifteen years I see marked improvement. Man is more respected, as man, than he once was; the masses are coming up; and the wealthy and the noble are more considerate. It is a great folly and a wickedness to think that the nobility of England are weak, vicious, unfeeling, proud, and self-indulgent. Some of the noblest characters of England are to be found in the peerage—men who "fear God and work righteousness." Their homes are often centres of diffusive blessedness; and were the nobility of England what too many here suppose them, the state could not last a twelvemonth. The queen is popular, and is clearly a woman of great tact. She would do at a crisis. Prince Albert is everything to her. He is a profoundly wise and prudent man, highly educated, and has very superior powers of mind. He is continually making speeches, but they are all marked by adaptation. I have never heard one disrespectful word uttered in England in regard to him. His labors for the exhibition, have been remarkable, and but for the prince the palace never would have been reared. England is happy indeed in having such a man to counsel and support the sovereign.

Europe looks as though a storm were once more about to gather over her old battle fields. France is not in her true position. She would like to see her armies employed; and I shall not be surprised to hear of his holiness clearing out from Rome and seeking protection from Austria. If that happens, France will sustain liberal views in the Eternal City, and the contest will be severe.

Popery has lost its hold upon the continent, and is seeking to regain its influence in England, and plant it in America. The people of England are Protestant to the heart's core. The folly of a few scholastics at Oxford has created all the hue and cry of Puseyism, and invigorated the hopes of Rome. These men at Oxford have poisoned the minds of a few of their pupils, and in the upper walks of life some sympathy is seen with views that seem at least semi-Papistical. But the great body of the people is sound. More than half the population is made up of dissenters and they, to a man, hate "the beast;" and there is about as much danger of Popery being established in England as there is of absolute monarchy being embraced as our form of government.

Popery in America must spread by immigration. We have Ireland virtually in America; but here the Irish will gradually merge into Americans, and the power of the priesthood will be less and less regarded by their children. I have no apprehensions from the coming of Catholics to our country. Let them come, and we must get Bibles ready for them, and Bible readers to visit them, and schools to teach their children; and if cardinal, or archbishop, or priest tell us that Popery is the friend of science, and that it never persecuted genius, imprisoned learning, nor burnt God's saints, we will tell the deceiver that he lies in the face of God and man and the world's history.

I am not, my dear fellow, uncharitable; a man may be better than his creed; and I believe that some priests who have sung the song of the mass will hereafter sing the song of Moses and the Lamb. But of Popery, as it is seen in Italy, and Austria, and other parts of the old world, I cannot but pronounce it a curse to the human family, a system all unworthy of God, and blasting to the happiness of man.

The boys are in the enjoyment of health, and will soon see you. They have been constant sources of pleasure to me, by their thoughtful kindness and consideration; and nothing has transpired, to cause us to look back with pain on any part of our wanderings from home.

Yours, very truly,

Jno. O. Choules.

To Mr. Charles W. Dustan,

Stapleton; Staten Island, New York.


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