RANDOM PASSAGES

FROM ROUGH NOTES OF A VISIT TO ENGLAND, SCOTLAND, FRANCE, SWITZERLAND, AND GERMANY.

NUMBER FOUR.

Notwithstanding the flattering invitation from Mr. G——, (of the agreeable party I had the honor and pleasure of joining in the Highland tour,) business called me speedily to London, and I therefore took berth in the 'Caledonia' steamer, and reluctantly bade adieu to my hospitable friends, and to

The London steam-packets sail from New-Haven, one of the sea-ports of Edinburgh. They are very large, and are built and rigged like ships; with a fine dining-cabin on deck, over that of the berths. The fare from Edinburgh to London, (about five hundred miles by water,) is three pounds, meals included; and they make the passage in from forty-two to fifty hours. A good library in the cabin served to relieve the tediousness of the trip; and I found, on reference, that I had visited or passed over many of the scenes described in the Waverly Novels; and what a gallery of pictures do those works exhibit! They are too familiar, however, to need any reference. One of the principal charms of Scott's fictions, as has been often remarked, is the accuracy and truth to nature, both of his landscapes and his characters. He studied scenery and localities, in the course of his frequent excursions, as well as individual traits; and as he has himself told us, he had an original in his eye for most of his apparently imaginary portraits.

As we sail along the coast, we have a distant view of several remarkable places. Preston-Pans, where the chevalier and his highlanders routed the royal army, under Sir John Cope; Dunbar, and its castle; Dunglass Castle; Berwick-upon-Tweed, near the 'Border;' Lindisfame, or Holy Island, which figures in 'Marmion;' Flodden Field lies a few miles from the coast; and Alnwick and Warkworth Castles,

are but a few miles from the Border, on the English side. Carlisle and its famous castle, and Gretna-Green, are more in the interior. The finest small views of Scottish scenery may be found in 'Caledonia Illustrated,' now publishing, edited by Dr. Beattie.

On board our steam-ship, I was amused at the speculations of my neighbors at the table, respecting a person at the other end of it, whom they finally pronounced a yankee, from the sure evidence of his chewing tobacco. They never suspected me, it seems, for one of the barbarians, and looked rather blank, when I spoke to him as a fellow countryman. He was a pretty considerable thorough-bred down-easter; and it was not strange that John Bull detected him.

* * * We landed at the East India docks, five or six miles from St. Paul's, and considering myself pretty well informed in the law, and not easily to be cheated, I hired a hack, without saying a word as to the price, and had the pleasure of being forced to pay five times the lawful fare, because, forsooth, the law did not extend down the river, and moreover, it was a glass coach.

* * * The University of Oxford, which has existed since the year 886, comprises no less than twenty-one different colleges, each distinct and independent, with a president and faculty; but united in a sort of federal compact, and governed by a Chancellor and Vice-Chancellor, the latter being the acting and responsible officer. The Duke of Wellington, as you well know, at present fills the Chancellor's chair. The college buildings are nearly all of the Tudor style of architecture, and most of them, indeed, were erected in the reigns of Henry VII. and VIII., and of Elizabeth; and they bear now a stately and venerable aspect. They are in the quadrangular form, covering two or three acres, with a large area in the centre. Several of them front on High-street, which is considered one of the most imposing in Europe.

I had no letters to Oxford; and my kind reception by Mr. and Mrs. T——, with only a self-introduction, gave me a most favorable impression of English hospitality. They freely invited me to their house, and took pains to show me every thing of interest. On Sunday I attended their church, which boasts no little antiquity, having been founded by Alfred the Great, in the eighth century. Its style of architecture is of course Anglo-Saxon.

In the afternoon, I went with Mr. T—— to the beautiful chapel of Magdalen college, to hear the chanting, which is performed by a choir of boys, in the most perfect and touching manner. It was much the most beautiful, and, as I thought, appropriate, church music I had ever heard. The effect can scarcely be imagined by one who has only heard the Episcopal chants in our churches. In this chapel is a painting by Carlo Dolci, valued at eleven thousand guineas! Addison was educated at Magdalen college; and his favorite walk, on the banks of the Isis, is yet called 'Addison's Walk.' Gibbon, whose stately style is so strongly in contrast with the classic ease and purity of the 'Spectator,' took his degree here, also. The 'crack' college, in size, wealth, the extent of its library, and gallery of paintings, and the aristocracy of its members, is Christ Church. Most of its graduates are sons of the nobility, and the higher classes; but yet it was in this college I was shown the room occupied by Dr. Johnson, who was certainly a plebeian, albeit an inveterate tory.

But I will not inflict on you a prosing account of this renowned University, or a catalogue of her sons; are they not all written in books? I must say a word or two, howbeit, of the two big libraries; for, as friend Harper says, 'that is somewhat in my line.' The Radcliffe library is in a circular building, with a huge dome, and an elegant interior. It contains, beside its one hundred and fifty thousand volumes, a fine collection of casts and busts, such as the Laöcoon, Apollo Belvidere, Warwick Vase, etc. The Bodleian is still more extensive. It has three hundred thousand volumes, and a large picture-gallery, with many noble paintings, and models of ancient temples. These immense repositories of literary treasures, and gems of art, are alone well worth a visit to Oxford. But I could not help thinking, that the world would not be much the wiser for a greater part of these books. It strikes us practical yankees, that books were made for use, rather than to fill up long shelves, to be looked at only on the outside, and the mass of them never to be opened, even by the 'favored few.' Among the rarities which they, show here, are an Ethiopic MS. version of the Book of Enoch, recently brought from Africa, and Queen Elizabeth's Latin exercise-book, in her own hand-writing. Connected with the Bodleian, is a hall of ancient sculpture, containing about eighty statues, which have been brought from Greece and Italy. Near by, are kept the celebrated Arundelian marbles; and here I saw the original Parian Chronicle, made two hundred and sixty-four years before Christ! and of course now somewhat illegible. This chronicle, you know, was an important authority in ancient chronology. I must not forget the 'Theatre,' an edifice not for dramatic performances, but the college anniversaries, which we call 'commencements.' This extensive hall is elegantly decorated, and well contrived for a large audience. It was here that the Emperors of Russia and Austria, etc., were pompously received, when they visited England, in 1815. The connoisseur in paintings will find ample entertainment in Oxford; and if you come here, especially do not omit seeing the altar-piece in All-Soul's chapel, a most exquisite 'Magdalen,' with an expression of countenance I can never forget. A few miles from Oxford, is the splendid palace and park of Blenheim, given by the nation to the great Duke of Marlborough, for his military services.

Warwick Castle.—It were as well, perhaps, for me to say nothing of these places which a thousand and one tourists have already made familiar to you. As to this; Kenilworth, Stratford-on-Avon, and indeed the European tour, I know the subject has been pretty well used up, and scribblers must now be content to tell an old story as best they may. I might tell you how I went down to this famous castle, and knocked at the porter's lodge, and how he took me within it, to see the walking-stick of Guy, Earl of Warwick, nine feet high, and his 'porridge-pot' of iron, which would contain half a barrel!—how he sent me up a long circular path-way, cut through a solid rock, to the castle itself; how I marvelled at its vastness, and passed under the towers into the area; how I wandered about, bewildered with the number of entrances to the huge pile, on all sides, but finally ventured one, and got into a chapel, without being challenged; how they took me through a range of gorgeous apartments, extending three hundred and thirty-three feet in a line, on only one side of the castle; and all the princely furniture, the tables of inlaid brass and precious stones; the rare paintings and sculpture which fill these halls; the antique armory, cut out of the thickness of the castle walls; the earl's family, and how naughty he is; and sundry other matters, may be buried in oblivion. You are aware that this is much the finest, perhaps the only one remaining entire, of the old English baronial castles. Its walls have been standing eight hundred years; and yet they seem imperishable. A novice like myself is 'taken aback' with the grandeur of these lordly abodes.

The change of the scene to the ruins of Kenilworth, in the course of an hour, naturally led to instructive recollections of the past. Here was once a castle as extensive and impregnable as the one we had just left; but now the lofty towers are fast falling to decay; and the sheep are grazing in peace and quiet, where once all the magnificence of the Elizabethan age was concentrated. I passed the same portal that admitted the great Eliza and her train, when she came to honor the princely entertainments of her favorite Leicester. The ruins are extremely picturesque; and they prove that the castle was of prodigious extent. They forcibly remind one that

Well—like all dutiful travellers, I of course added my name to the list of illustrious pilgrims in the Album at Stratford-on-Avon. The birth-place and the tomb of Shakspeare! Who would go to England, and pass them by without a visit? What a host of grandissimos, beside the multitude of humbler gentry, have deigned to worship at this intellectual shrine!—or, in other words, to follow the old cicerone up those narrow back stairs to the lowly apartment where the Bard of Nature was cradled, and there to scribble their names on the rude walls, or in the goodly quarto. There I saw the autographs of 'William Henry, Duke of Clarence,' 'Walter Scott,' 'Countess Guicciolli,' 'Coleridge,' 'Charles Lamb,' and scores of similar names, beside an army from the United States. I copied some of the many inscriptions in the 'Ollapod' of an album, which you may like to have:

Washington Irving.'

James H. Hackett.'

The esteemed and lamented Carter:

'1825, Nov. 18. N. H. Carter, } H. J. Eckford.}

Not being 'wise above what is written,' I shall spare you a rhapsody of my own on the occasion. To tell the truth, as ill-luck would have it, I could not get up a fit of enthusiasm. I was not inspired even by the impressive little sign which is poked out over the door, and tells the heedless urchin of Stratford, as well as the eager pilgrim from foreign climes, that

And then to be bowed up stairs and down,

'T was cheap, to be sure; but there was something droll in the idea. Of course, I spent half a crown beside, for seeing the tomb in the church, which, by-the-way, is a fine old edifice of its kind; and mine host has also shown me, gratis, the mulberry tree in his garden, which was planted by the great bard himself. They are going to have a 'grand jubilee' here, shortly; and an oration is to be delivered by somebody whose name I have forgotten; but as he styles himself the 'American Tragedian,' you will know, I suppose, to whom this title belongs.[4]

London in May.—The 'fashionable season' is now in its prime. Parliament is sitting, and every body is in town. How strangely they arrange, or rather dis-arrange, the order of nature, here in England! Come to town in May, for the winter season, and go into the country in December, to spend Christmas! Yes, if you wish to see London in all its glory, come here in the blooming month of May. The queen of cities then puts on her gayest attire, and all her thousand attractions and amusements are ready to draw on your purse. First, if you like paintings, there is the Royal Academy exhibition in Somerset House, which, by the way, is soon to be removed to a part of the New National Gallery at Charing-Cross, which is now nearly completed, and is to receive the collection of old masters belonging to the nation, which have been exhibiting in Pall-Mall. Then there is the Society of British Artists, in the latter street, and two Societies of Painters, in water-colors; all of whose exhibitions are crowded with fashionables. They seem to pay special attention to this water-color department, and the present collections are really brilliant. In books, sculpture, natural curiosities, etc., there is that immense repository, the British Museum, freely open to all visitors. The Benevolent Society Anniversaries take place, this month, at Exeter Hall; and there is always a great musical treat at St. Paul's for the charity children, and also for the sons of the clergy. Speaking of music, I was thriftless enough to go to Exeter Hall, last evening, to the great musical festival, where six hundred performers, beside the organ and big drum, concerted together a 'concord of sweet sounds.' I wonder what a Connecticut singing-master, fortified, with a pine pitch-pipe and a 'Musica Sacra,' would have said to it! The Duchess of Kent and the Princess Victoria were to be there; and when they appeared in the front gallery-seat, the whole audience rose, and gave them three cheers, which were, of course, 'graciously acknowledged' by their highnesses, with sundry bows. The Princess is now seventeen, very unnecessarily pretty, and dresses with a neatness and simplicity which would be a pattern for New-York belles. She looks intelligent and dignified, without affectation, and is, no doubt, well educated, and highly accomplished. She is evidently the darling of the people, and, I hope, deservedly so; but she must be a very fine girl, if she can wear all her honors, and sip all the flattery which is paid to her, and yet not be spoiled. Her mother, the Duchess, seemed to be a restless, bustling sort of person, and I set her down as being, at least, no more than a woman.

Among the singers, Philips stands highest. He has a rich and highly-cultivated bass voice. He sang some fine airs in Balfé's new opera of 'The Maid of Artois,' a few weeks after this. In this, I had the good fortune to hear that wonderful vocalist, Malibran. Those who saw her when she visited New-York, some years since, would scarcely recognise the present brilliant tones, and great compass of her voice, so much has it improved: and not only does she astonish and delight you, by such singing as you never heard before, but her manners and acting are equally extraordinary and fascinating. She is rather small and short in figure, and her face, though not handsome, is peculiarly expressive and intelligent. I saw her several times in this opera, and also in 'La Somnambula,' and Beethoven's opera of Fidelio, which is her chef d'œuvre.

The only female vocalist who is named in the same breath with Malibran, is Julia Grisi, of the Italian Opera. Grisi is tall, very pretty, and lady-like, sings sweetly, and is evidently a great favorite. The queen attended her benefit the other evening, beside many a 'bright particular star.' I had a good chance to stare at her majesty, who is tall and slim, and looks very like a queen. The popular feeling seems to have changed in her favor; and I heard her styled 'an excellent and exemplary woman.' I saw her a few days since, with the king, riding out to Windsor, after the levee at St. James' Palace. But to the singers.

La Blache, a portly, good-looking personage, has the most tremendous bass voice I ever heard. Tamburini and Rubini are the tenors. The King's Theatre, or Opera-House, is one of the most extensive and elegant, certainly the most expensive, in Europe. * * *

I have had the good luck to hear Braham, too, who yet looks youthful, although now about sixty, and whose singing seems as much prized as ever. But time fails me to tell you of Liston, Macready, Charles Matthews, Jr., and other lions of the day, who figure where the Siddons and Garricks have 'held the mirror up to nature.'

We have passed a leisure hour in finding out some of the antiquities and literary curiosities of the metropolis; such as Boar's Head Tavern, (Mrs. Quickly's), where Falstaff, Poins, and 'Hal' called for their cups of sack. In Buckingham-street, near us, is the house where Peter the Great lodged, when in London. 43 Lombard-street was the residence of Jane Shore. In the Old Bailey, Jonathan Wild and Oliver Goldsmith lodged. Chapter Coffee-House, where Dr. Johnson and his coterie frequented, is yet the resort of penny-a-liners and newspaper-readers. In Bolt Court, Fleet-street, we saw the literary leviathan's residence, and we found also those of Byron, Blackstone, Cowley, Hogarth, Pope, Lord Bacon, Garrick, Gibbon, Handel, Hans Holbein, Hume, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Sir Thomas Lawrence, West, Sheridan, Sterne, Spenser, etc.

York Minster.—I did not repent varying my route a little to visit the ancient city of York, and its noble cathedral, unquestionably the finest Gothic structure in Great Britain, if not in the world. This grand edifice is five hundred and twenty-four feet in length, and, of course, exceeds St. Paul's on this score; but in other respects, they can scarcely be compared, as the style of architecture is entirely different. It stands in bold relief above all the rest of the town, albeit not on a rising ground. To use the words of the book, it is like 'a mountain starting out of a plain, and thus attracting all the attention of the spectator. The petty, humble dwellings of men appear to crouch at its feet, while its own vastness and beauty impress the observer with awe and sublimity.' It dates its origin as far back as A. D. 642;[5] but the present walls seem to have been erected in the thirteenth or fourteenth century. The screen and the choir, particularly, are elaborate and exquisite specimens of the Gothic style. It seems strange to us, who make the most of our room, that they should only use so small a portion of these cathedrals for what one would suppose was their chief purpose—divine worship. Service can only be held in what is called the 'choir,' an enclosure near the centre of the church, which has seats for perhaps from one hundred to two hundred persons. I went in, during the evening prayers, and had an opportunity of hearing the gigantic organ, accompanied by the choir, in some fine anthems. The whole of the east wing of the cathedral was fired in 1829, by Martin, the lunatic, who secreted himself behind the organ, during service, and so thoroughly effected his purpose, that the whole interior, including the choir, was destroyed. The great painted glass window, seventy-five feet by thirty-two, (capable of admitting a large three-story house,) was saved as if by miracle. It is remarkable, that the whole of this wing has been restored, so precisely in the original form, as scarcely to be suspected for a modern work. The architect was Robert Smirke, Esq. It is asserted, by the knowing ones, that a work of equal magnitude to York Cathedral could not be performed, at the present day, for ten millions of dollars, nor in less time than fifty or even a hundred years.

House of Lords.—There is no admittance for plebeians to this 'august assembly,' without a written order from a peer; but we were not to be daunted on this wise. We wrote a billet to some of the great 'uns, as follows:

'To His Grace the Duke of Wellington:

'My Lord Duke: The undersigned, a stranger from the United States, presumes to solicit your Grace's permission to visit the House of Lords this evening.

'I am, my Lord Duke,

'Your Grace's Humble Servant, —— ——.'

This circular was addressed also to the Duke of Buccleugh, Viscount Melbourne, Marquis of Londonderry, etc., for the Lords; and to O'Connell, Hume, Spring Rice, and Sergeant Talfourd, for the Commons. To insure success, I took a cab, and called on their graces and lordships in person. At Whitehall-Gardens, the powdered and gold-laced footman, gracefully bowing for a sixpence 'to drink my health,' presented me with a note, neatly sealed with the duke's arms, which purported thus:

'The Duke of Buccleugh presents his compliments to Mr. ——, and has the honor to enclose an order for the House of Lords.'

* * * This for my friend. Now to the premier's for myself. The viscount's house is certainly not more ostentatious than his neighbors.

'On business?' asked the porter, as I presented my 'little affair.'

'Yes,' said I, stoutly.

'Then you must take it to the office, in Downing-street. His lordship transacts no business at home.'

'Oh! it is private business—very special, and requires an immediate answer,' returned I, remembering the advantage of an air of consequence, with these 'gentlemen's gentlemen.'

The official disappeared, and soon brought me a roughly-folded note, addressed in true great men's hieroglyphics:

'—— —— Esq.,

'18 Norfolk-street, Strand.'

'Melbourne.'

It enclosed the order. Next, to Apsley House: 'The duke will send an answer.' To Piccadilly: 'The Marquis not in town.' To Cavendish-Square: 'The duke will be at home shortly; an answer at two o'clock.' To Langham-Place: Answer written on back of request:

'Finding Mr. —— is not a resident of a slave-holding state, Mr. O'Connell has the honor to comply with his request.'

'Admit the bearer to the gallery.'

Daniel O'Connell.'

To Guildhall: Mr. Talfourd, the author of 'Ion,' to whom I had a letter, is in court, examining a witness. Asked the constable to give him my note, when he was disengaged; but he pushed inside, before judge and jury, thinking I had something touching the case in hand. Luckily the sergeant was busy, and I escaped. A brace of orders came from him in season, so I supplied my friends; for no member can give an order for more than one person at a time.

We went to the House of Lords at five P. M. The room is about the same size as that of the Commons, but looks, of course, a little more 'genteel.' The throne is a large arm-chair, under a crimson canopy, not particularly splendid. The members' seats are elevated on each side, and covered with red moreen. The 'ministerial bench' is in front, near the woolsack and the bishops; and their party (at present whigs) all sit on the same side, while the opposition, or tories, occupy the other, facing their opponents. In this house, the tories, or conservatives, of course predominate. The members were in plain citizen's dress, except the bishops, the chancellor, and the clerks, who all wear a black gown and big wigs. When we entered, a witness was being examined in an election-bribery case: Presently the house was called to order, and the chancellor (Lord Cottenham) took his seat on the woolsack, which is nothing more than a good-sized red ottoman. An ordinary-looking man, who it appeared was the Earl of Wicklow, then rose, and made a studied speech, in which there were far more words than ideas, against appropriations for a charity-school in Ireland, which he alleged was under Catholic influence. Some one at the door announced, 'My luds! a message from the House of Commons!' and on each repetition of this, the chancellor, poor man, had to leave his seat and come down the hall with a bag, which they call the purse, to receive the 'message.' One of the prelates (the Bishop of Exeter) rose and supported the Earl of Wicklow's motion; and then presented petitions from manufacturing districts, praying for interference in behalf of the children employed in factories, who were often required to work twenty hours out of the twenty-four, and were otherwise ill-treated. The bishop made some remarkable statements in the course of his appeal, which was manly and sensible; and I observed Melbourne, the minister, who is a full-sized, elderly man, leave his seat and whisper somebody, and then return with a point-blank contradiction to one of the bishop's assertions, which of course produced a rejoinder.

When I re-visited the house on the 17th, the Marquis of Londonderry had the floor. My object was to see Wellington. 'Pray is he here?' 'Yes; don't you see his nose?' Ah, there's no mistaking the duke. There he sits, between the dandy-exquisite-moustached-tory-Duke of Cumberland (the king's brother) and Lord Lyndhurst, the intellectual giant of the house, the ablest peer of them all, and the best orator, perhaps the only orator, among them. 'He is an extraordinary man, that,' said my neighbor. 'No doubt,' thought I. 'His father was a native of our own Boston.' 'That tall man, with a short neck, and black hair, is Lord Ellenborough, and he in the rear, the Earl of Devon, all tories—'birds of a feather.' 'Brougham is not here; he appears to have retired of late from public life. But hush! The duke is going to speak! Lo! the great captain, who is at once two dukes, (Spanish and English,) a prince, (of Belgium,) two marquisses, three generals, a 'field-marshal, four or five ex-premiers, knight of the garter, Chancellor of the University of Oxford, Constable of the Tower, and filling I know not how many other stations; the conqueror of Napoleon; the commander of three great armies; the leader at the ball of Brussels, when

this famous great-little man rose to speak. And he spoke 'pretty well, considering.' He hesitates and stutters at times, but when he gets warm with his subject, as he is now, he waxes quite eloquent. He is evidently listened to with much deference and attention. They have not forgotten Waterloo.

I usually attend church on Sunday afternoons at Westminster Abbey. I love to go there. One can read sermons on the walls. The very tombs discourse history, poetry, and philosophy. The verbal preachers are usually sufficiently dull. Among others, I have heard the Bishops of Hereford, Chester, and Exeter; and (in his own church) the Rev. George Croly, the poet, author of 'Salathiel.' Croly is a man of fifty, or thereabout, a high tory, and distinguished for his eloquence; but according to my humble opinion, neither of these great guns will compare with our Dr. H—— as pulpit orators. But there is something impressive in the church service in such a place as this venerable abbey. Here you may sit within a few steps of the spot where sleep the mortal remains of the royal Edwards, Henrys, Richards, of old; the knights of chivalry repose at your feet; from the valiant deeds of the Black Prince, the bloody career of the monster Gloucester, the mad pranks of Falstaff's dearly beloved 'Hal,' the brilliant court of Elizabeth, and the woes of the unfortunate Mary Stuart, your thoughts turn, on a glance at other tablets, to the lofty strains of him who sung of

and to the splendid creations of the Bard of Avon; the epitaphs of the time-honored Chaucer; 'O Rare Ben Johnson;' and the whole host of poets, statesmen, and philosophers—stars of the first magnitude in English literature—meet your eye on every side; and while you are so forcibly reminded that

the rich, full notes of the organ, softened by the voices of the juvenile choir, are echoed through the lofty and venerable arches, as they chant in harmonious chorus:

Windsor Castle, July 11.—At the 'White Horse Cellar,' Piccadilly, I perched myself on a Windsor coach, and off we rattled by Apsley House, Hyde-Park, and Kensington Gardens, our coachee skilfully threading his way between the innumerable omnibuses and other vehicles which ply between the modern Babel and the hundred-and-one villages in its environs. We passed through Kensington, Kingsbridge, Hounslow, Brentford, Hammersmith, Kew, Turnham Green, and a series of gardens between. The castle is first seen from the road, crowning an elevation about three miles distant, on the left; the coach makes a short turn through the town of Eton, where is the celebrated school, or college, in which noblemen are proud to have been educated; and with a glance at its curious Gothic chapel, we crossed a bridge over the Thames, and were at once in the respectable old town of Windsor, where there are no doubt as many 'merry wives' as in the days of Shakspeare and sweet Anne Page. There are several approaches to the castle, the chief one being from the Great Park; but the public are admitted only on the side of the town, through the two 'outer walls,' each of which are well flanked with towers of stone. The castle itself covers as much space as a small village, and a novice is somewhat puzzled in its labyrinths of arches, donjons, inner and outer walls, towers, and gate-ways. It is indeed a magnificent and kingly structure, or rather assemblage of structures, for the various parts have been built at widely different periods, and in every variety of form; but the whole seems most happily combined in one vast and imposing edifice, in which the strength, grandeur, and castellated style of the old baronial strong holds, is as remarkable, as the elegance, splendor, and comfort of a modern palace. It is well described by Von Raumer, in his letters. His majesty, it appeared, had not been advised of my visit, and had gone to take his déjeuner at Kew; but I found that a couple of his representatives, in the shape of shilling-pieces, would introduce me at once into the state apartments; and I can conscientiously give my full approval of the audience-chambers, the throne room, ball-room, and St. George's Hall, as being magnificent, in the highest degree. This part of the castle has been recently renovated and modernized, at great expense. All the rooms are adorned with fine paintings and tapestries, of which latter, the 'History of Esther' series is particularly beautiful. At the Hampton-Court Palace I saw the duplicate original of those tapestries from Raphael, which we had in New-York. From the terraces of the castle, you have a thoroughly English landscape; green meadows, winding streams, and gentle elevations. St. George's Chapel, adjoining the castle, is considered a gem of Gothic architecture. It contains the twenty-four stalls of the knights of the garter, with their banners suspended above. In the park, adjoining the castle, I looked for Hearne's oak, and sure enough, there was the tree where tradition says Falstaff was enticed and pinched by the fairies; and near it is the foot-path to Dachet Mead, where they ducked him in the buck-basket.

The approach to the castle from the Great Park, and the sweet little lake called Virginia Water, is through a noble avenue, extending three miles in a perfectly strait and level line, shaded by rows of stately elms. One of the best views of the castle is from the hill, at the end of this avenue. I have made up my mind, that Windsor and Warwick cannot be equalled, 'in their way,' as Mr. Cooper says, in all Europe.

On the way back, there was an amusing dispute on the top of the coach between a tory, a moderate reformer, and a fiery radical. I was astonished to observe the freedom and boldness with which they settled the affairs of the nation, and railed at each other's party, or individuals composing it. John Bull certainly allows his children some liberties—those of speech, the press, and conscience—(though perhaps scarcely the last,) and a stranger may gain more insight into the character and opinions of the people, in a mixed company, like that of a stage-coach, than from all the books in the museum.

The police of London is, perhaps, more efficient, without being oppressive, than any other in the world. In Paris, the agents of the police are very numerous; but they act in secret service; they are spies on the people; and though I am not aware of having seen a policeman there, it is extremely probable that I met them daily at the cafês and dining-rooms. But in London, they are in no disguise. They are distinguished by a uniform suit of blue and a cockade, and are to be seen at every turn and corner, day and night, always on the watch for the least show of disturbance. There must be, at least, two or three thousand of these men constantly employed for the seemingly idle purpose of walking the streets. Disorder is consequently rare, and is always checked in the bud; and drunken vagrants, if ever seen, are soon disposed of, for a policeman is always within call. There is, also, a night horse-patrol for the environs. Each of the public buildings is sentinelled by one or more of the 'Life Guards,' who are richly dressed in scarlet, with tremendous black, bushy caps, à la grenadier Francaise. These valiant troops also attend the members of the royal family, when they visit public places. A part of them are mounted, and have their head-quarters at the 'Horse Guards' in Whitehall and St. James' Park.

The working classes, and even the 'tradesmen' of England, as well as I could judge, are far from being so well informed as those of the United States. One of the most obvious reasons is, the comparatively high price of books and newspapers in England, which places these luxuries beyond the reach of such as gain the scanty pittance of their daily bread by the sweat of their brow. Many, even those who may be said to belong to the middle classes, appear to have access to newspapers only at the public dining-rooms; and as to the publications of the day, they are well content with the loan of them from a circulating-library, for nearly as much as the whole book may be bought for in New York. How many of the thousands among us who get the last novel of Bulwer, James, or Marryat, for the trifling sum of fifty cents, would make the purchase, if they had to pay one pound eleven shillings and sixpence, or seven dollars, as in London? New novels can only be afforded there by the librarian, the nobility, or the millionaire. But with us, all classes have books; and the mechanic's apprentice, with the penny paper in his hand, may discuss the politics of the day as wisely, perhaps, as his master, or the president himself.

I would not assume a critical nicety in matters which belong to more learned heads, but I must say, that the vulgar pronunciation of many words, not only among the cockney tribe, but, according to Mr. Cooper,[6] reaching even to the bishops, was continually grating on my ear, in London. I inquired for Holborn, which seemed to be a place unknown, until I learned that the English of it was Hobun. Lombard, you must call Lumbud; Warwick, Warrick; Thames, Tems; Pall Mall, Pell-Mell, and so on. We have even the high authority of Lord Brougham, or rather Lord Broom, for calling Birmingham Brummagem. I really think that we yankee rebels are far more loyal to the king's English, than his majesty's liege subjects.

There are many words which the English use in quite a different sense from ourselves, and many articles which they call by a different, and often more appropriate, name. Every body knows that by a clever man, they mean a man of genius and talent; and a very clever man would be with them a person of extraordinary celebrity; whereas we only apply the word to a good-natured 'hale fellow well met.' The coachman would feel his dignity insulted, if you called him driver; and you should also be careful to say luggage instead of baggage, or there may be a whisper of scandal. Nice is peculiarly an English word. Several of our own coining have been endorsed in England, such as talented, dutiable, etc.

The peasantry, and others of the lowest classes in England, are a robust and hardy, but certainly an ignorant and boorish race. Their highest enjoyment would seem to be a horse-race, a mug of ale, or 'pot o' 'alf-and-'alf;' and they drink these brain-muddling beverages in prodigious quantities. With their ale and roast beef, it is no wonder that the English are not of the lean kind!

It is to be hoped that ignorance respecting the American people, and groundless prejudice against them, is daily becoming less prevalent in England; but a visitor from the United States is yet often as much astonished as amused, at the notions of the people there about us. A traveller is always sure to fall in with conversible companions; and it is gratifying to find on the way many agreeable and intelligent persons, who, with but partial advances on your part, will enter into your plans, and without impertinent curiosity, will readily impart information, or render assistance. At Warwick, a few days after I first landed at Liverpool, I met with a couple of gentlemen of this stamp; and, in the course of conversation, I mentioned that I was an American. They both seemed surprised, and remarked that I spoke English very well; 'they should never have taken me for an American;' and gravely inquired if 'the English language was usually spoken in the United States.' This was evidently a 'man of substance,' and he had just been complaining of the wretched state of public education in England! I seldom confessed that I was any other than 'a native born and bred,' but whenever I did plead guilty of being an American, I always observed an expression of wonder, if not of absolute incredulity. It will scarcely be believed, but it is not more strange than true, that many in this land of learning expect to see in an 'American' a person of different color, habits, and language, from themselves. They seem to apply the word American only to the aborigines; and the descendants of those who have come from England, Scotland, or other European countries, they consider as still belonging to his 'father-land;' and the mass of people in England have the most vague and crude notions about matters and things in this distant republic. Ten to one you may be asked what state Virginia is in, or if there are 'many Indians in New-York,' meaning the city. One good lady had an idea that the Indians were black, and that they were the same as our present slaves! When the Americans, in Paris, joined the English residents in congratulating the king on his escape from assassination, one of the English committee proposed, that the republicans should appear in their 'own court dress!' One would think, that with the present facility of intercourse between the two countries, they might be better informed; but it is certainly the fact, that in the present 1836, you will hear blunders, such as these specimens, from five persons out of eight, in England, who have any thing to say concerning the United States.