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ABBOTSFT^R 
 
MY FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE s 
 
 OR, SKETCHES OF 
 
 SOCIETY, SCENERY, AND ANTIQUITIES, 
 
 IN ENGLAND, WALES, IRELAND, SCOTLAND, 
 AND FKANCE. 
 
 ANDREW I^ICKINSON. 
 
 Author of" The City of the Dead, and other Poems. 
 
 From the blooming store 
 Of these auspicious fields, may I, unblamed. 
 Transplant some living blossoms to adorn 
 My native clime. Akenside. 
 
 SECOND EDITION. 
 
 PUBLISHED FOa THE PROPRIETOR BY 
 
 GEORGE F. PUTNAM, 155 BROADWAY, 
 
 JLontion : 
 JOHN CHAPMAN, 142 STRAND. 
 
 MDCCCLI. 
 
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 47 
 
 Entered according to act of Congress, in the year 1851, by 
 
 Andrew Dickinson, 
 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court for the Southern District of New-Y^'k. 
 
 e^&u^S t 
 
 .£rA/y^J 
 
 t:fi^V.U,l<^54- 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 To those who deem it necessary for '^ writer to appear 
 before * the public with a laboured Aj?logy in one hand 
 and his book in the other, the author of these sketches 
 has nothing to say. Unconscious of aught but a desire 
 to please, he is not aware th-at such an effort, however 
 humble it may be, requires more than a, "^vord of explana- 
 tion — a knock at the door of his friends, not a herald of 
 formal and mistrustful approach. 
 
 Those who object that enough has been written, do not 
 consider, that Europe is like a vast mine; the more it is 
 explored, the more inviting it becomes. Gems of beauty, 
 ruins, or scenery, present an ever-varying phase to the eye 
 of travellers, because never viewed from the same point 
 of light. Thus minds, like mirrors of different shape, reflect 
 a hundred images of one object. Who does not love to 
 look often at pictures of friends and favourite scenes? 
 
 That the field from which these unpretending sheaves 
 are brought has been often gleaned, v/ho knows not? Yet 
 it is the fertile field that feels the frequent sickle. Fresh- 
 ness, not variety, gives value to the grain. Besides, did 
 the reaper bear his burden to a foreign mart, to unsym- 
 pathizing strangers, he might well tremble lest his little 
 load might find no buyer: but now he brings the harvest 
 home, where, few though the sheaves may be, they are 
 
IV PRE F ACL 
 
 welcomej because gathered by his hand, and laid by him 
 at friendly feet. Far be it from him to refuse a welcome 
 from the stranger ; but he has no wish to intrude : and is 
 thus armed with hope on one side, and with confidence 
 on the other. 
 
 With suffering body and dejected mind, he set forth on 
 a pilgrimage over the sea in search of relief. And now 
 that he has found the lost pearl in more than its former 
 lustre, and so many added treasures of delight, he feels 
 that it would be ungrateful indeed, to make no effort to 
 impart to others a taste of what was so freely granted to 
 himself. To those who are willing to accept in sympathy 
 what is offered in good-will, the writer proffers his book, 
 without a single sigh for fame. And as its merits are not 
 likely to subtract from the stock of approbation reserved 
 for the few select spirits, so the faults of this little work 
 are not worthy of that severe censure which the failings 
 of more ambitious authors sometimes deserve. The praise 
 which the writer covets is that of generous minds, whom 
 he has ever found more liberal of approval than those 
 critics, who, like quack doctors, are always certain to kill 
 ®r cure — alternatives more satisfactory to patients than to 
 authors. 
 
FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Creation's heir, the "world, the -world is mine ! — Goldsmith. 
 
 Old HerculeSj farewell ! Though mighty in ancient 
 fiction, and far stronger now, when emhodied in the shape 
 of a New- York steamtug, thon art no deity of the seas. 
 Resign us, then, to the God of these swelling waves, not 
 Neptune, riding on a car, fished from some slimy hed of 
 the deep, but Him who once walked the waters, and holds 
 the sea in the hollow of His hand. Return, then, to the 
 city smoke and noise ; and while my coimtry's hills grow 
 blue before Night curtains the doors of ocean, now flung 
 wide open before me, let me bid farewell to shores behind, 
 and look forward in fancy to those of another world ! 
 
 Adieu, my country, for a little while ! 
 I go to seek, in a far distant clime, 
 The genial skies of England's beauteous isle, 
 Hygeian gales in Summer's glorious prime. 
 And gather memories of olden time. 
 Mighty Atlantic ! o'er thy rolling deep. 
 Bear up my barque when toss'd on waves sublime : 
 But, should thy billows rock my life to sleep. 
 Some cavern of the sea my slumb'ring dust shall keep. 
 
 My God will wake me on that wondrous morn, 
 "When boundless Ocean shall give up the dead. 
 To beatific beauty then reborn ! 
 Then why reluct at thought of such a bed? 
 The Resurrection and the Life hath said — 
 I wiU iUume the darkness of thy tomb ! 
 Light shall flash up and scatter all his gloom. 
 And in the Vale of Death immortal flowers shall bloom ! 
 1* 
 
FIRST VISIT TO EUUOPE. 
 
 Imagination wings my ardent flight 
 To the green land of bowers and gilded streams : 
 And gorgeous landscapes dance before my sight, 
 Castles, on whose old battlements soft gleams 
 The Autumnal sun. Yet more my heart esteems 
 The Heaven-illumin'd Christian brotherhood ! 
 If aught were lovely, such my judgment deems. 
 Who cheer the sick, and generously good. 
 Ne'er let the stranger pine in grief and solitude ! 
 
 Heaven ! if thou wilt send me prosperous gales 
 To waft me home across the western main, 
 As friendly breezes fill my pilgrim-sails, 
 My heart shall swell amid thy solemn fane. 
 And holier bliss much more my heart enchain : 
 ! I will hail with joy each whitening spire 
 That upward points from hill and peaceful plain, 
 All gilt at Sabbath morn with trenabling fire, 
 "While thoughts too big for speech my raptur'd soul fnspire! 
 
 How easy would it be to make more than one chapter 
 the record of feelings that crowd upon a stranger to the 
 ocean. But the only reward of such a recital would he a 
 smile from the reader at emotions with which nothing but 
 similar experience could create sympathy. Let us leave 
 sea-sickness as a tribute unwillingly paid to old Neptune, 
 and hasten on deck for a breath of reviving air. Look out 
 upon the ocean, not from some hill-top, but from the uneasy 
 deck of a ship that rides the waves like a restless steed. 
 The clear and almost cloudless sky, the circling horizon, 
 shut down all around by the light blue curtains of heaven, 
 upon the dark water, the exhilarating breeze, the majestic 
 heaving of the ocean, with a cheerful and thankful spirit, 
 are no small compensation for the waves of adversity that 
 roll between one's home and himself, the lonely centre of a 
 boundless hemisphere. 
 
 T cannot forget many little kindnesses of several passen- 
 gers, especially an English lady, who prepared many little 
 articles of diet during extreme illness, which the cabin table 
 did not afford. 
 
THE VOYAGE. 7 
 
 The iirjst Saturday night at sea was ushered by a terrific 
 thunderstorm. Far away to the south-west, as momentary 
 flashes lit the horizon, a black belt showed that Ocean was 
 girding himself in earnest for the battle. Far off at first, the 
 thunder muttered angrily and low, but soon broke awfully 
 overhead, while lightning glared all around, diving inces- 
 santly into the black water. All night successive thunder- 
 storms broke over the ship. It was fearful and sublime ; but 
 though nervous from long disease, and weakened by sea- 
 sickness, I was strangely free from fear, both then and during 
 the whole voyage. 
 
 During the voyage were many beautiful days. One of 
 these was the Sabbath — delightful resting-place in the 
 voyage of life ! The sky was cle«ar, and the ocean a 
 mirror; and as we lay motionless in the midst of this vast 
 watery prison, the soul would spring away, and take almost 
 boundless range over the- vivid landscapes of home, where 
 the breeze, loaded with fragrance of opening flowers, wafts 
 the mellow harmony of village bells, calling unnumbered 
 worshippers to join the organ in the solemn hymn of praise. 
 But the murmuring ccean, like the whispers of angels 
 upon the waters, was all the music I heard ; though at times 
 the "floods clapped their hands," and the watery hills were 
 "joyful before the Lord." But who can paint the opal tints 
 of an ocean sunset, as the crimson clouds lie piled up in 
 solemn pomp, bordered with flaming gold, in strange magni- 
 ficence ! 
 
 Should the reader imagine that the strain thus far in- 
 diilged gives promise of a sentimental journey, rather than 
 a narrative of interesting facts and observations, he will 
 please to recollect that three weeks upon the ocean give 
 time for thoughts and feelings very different from those 
 which arise amid the crowd. The novelty of the ocean 
 wears quickly away, and then the mind turns within for 
 food which it cannot find without. There were other pas- 
 
8 FIEST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 sengers, it is true; but, for the most part, I preferred my 
 own society to theirs. Their principal employment was 
 carousal, drinking punch, singing queer songs, and card- 
 playing till after midnight ; recalling the scene of Gil Bias 
 in the robbers' cave, when " all spoke at once, and made a 
 hellish noise." There was, however, but one instance of 
 malignity and pugnacity. A German physician, of unpre- 
 tending air, proved himself a skilful practitioner by curing 
 the maladies of all on board but mine, too deep for medical 
 skill, the hated dyspepsia. This excited the jealousy of a 
 certain personage, inflated with self-importance. Detraction 
 and vituperation on the part of this Sangradowere omens 
 of a sea-light — a knock-down argumentum ad hominem. But 
 the other quickly test^ his pretensions by challenging his 
 knowledge of Latin and Greek. 
 
 Sometimes a school of grampuses, or bottle-nosed whales, 
 would career around the ship : at other times the petril, that 
 beautiful bird with bright golden vest, would flit around us, 
 and then pass away "like the swift ships" that now and 
 then whitened the horizon. Sea-gulls, too, in search of food, 
 often settled like ducks upon the water, and then gracefully 
 balancing themselves in the air, sailed qiiickly out of sight. 
 When we were about five hu.ndred miles from England, a 
 number of small larks fluttered round our ship, and one of 
 them that ventured on board was so tame and tired that 
 he came and sat upon my hand ! They had no doubt been 
 driven out to sea by the northeasterly gale of the 21st and 
 22d of May. This touching incident reminding me of my 
 own sojourn on the ocean, I pencilled the following while 
 stretched out on the deck in pensive mood : 
 
 THE LOST BIRD. 
 
 Thou -weary -wanderer o'er the trackless sea ! 
 
 tell me -whence and -wherefore thou dost roam? 
 I see thee lone, companionless, like me — 
 
 Seek'st thou in otter realms a happier home ? 
 
THE VOYAGE. 9 
 
 Fear not to rest on me thy weary "wing, 
 
 Thou little fainting one, distrest and lost : 
 Welcome ! all day thou here may'st sit and sing, 
 
 No more by winds on stormy billows tost. 
 
 Ere I would do thee harm, perish the hand 
 Whereon thou sitt'st — thou joyous talisman ! 
 
 I'll take thee, lost one ! to thy native land. 
 That bounds the distant orient horizon. 
 
 Hast thou long wander'd o'er the surging main ? 
 
 Come to. the sheltering ark and find sweet rest, 
 Found nowhere, though sought everywhere in vain : 
 
 Welcome I poor weary one ! a welcome guest ! 
 
 When I heard the steward cry "'Land, land in view !" it 
 was so affecting to a weary pilgrim of the ocean, that my 
 whole frame shook with indescribable tremor. I rushed on 
 deck, and beheld the Waterford lighthonse. The fog was so 
 thick that we came very near running on the coast of 
 Ireland. At daylight next morning, on looking out of the 
 bull's-eye window, the mountains of Wales, in all the green 
 glory of spring, stretched as far as sight could reach. We 
 were off the isle of Anglesey. The steward obtained eggs, 
 milk and chickens, which disappeared with magic quickness. 
 As we lay becalmed all day, I had a fine chance to sketch 
 the highland coast of Wales, Anglesey and Flintshire. A 
 thunderstorm of warm rain, smelling fresh of the land, 
 passed over the ship, in the afternoon. The reverberation 
 among the moimtains was awfully grand; and as the black 
 thunder-clouds came booming over from the north-west with 
 '4oosened, aggravated roar," the lines in Thomson's Sum- 
 mer, probably written amid the same scenery, were brought 
 to mind with triple power. How impressive the coincidence ! 
 All the points described by the poet were in view at once. 
 " There is Penmanmaur," said the pilot ; " and there the 
 top of Snowden's peak is just visible above and beyond." 
 
 At midnight I saw a long range of lights on the Mersey. 
 It was Jiiverpool in the distance. Before daylight I was 
 safely moored in the Victoria Dock. 
 
CHAPTER II. 
 Slibcrpool— 3SirfteTii)eatr. 
 
 She stands 
 Fail beckoning at the hospitable gate, 
 And bids the stranger take repose and joy. 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 Saxon; of chivalry and arts; philosophy, poetry, and Chris- 
 tianity — our fatherland ! Such were the transporting emo- 
 tions which took possession of me, passing from the ship 
 Centurion through the crowded streets of Liverpool. 
 
 The buildings looked as though they were built a thou- 
 sand years ago, and would stand a thousand more. Many 
 of them have much architectural beauty ] but an American 
 will be struck with their dinginess from the prevalence of 
 coal smoke. The streets are helter-skelter, and reminded 
 me of an ill-constructed spider's web. 
 
 An English beef steak at the Rotunda, near the Waterloo 
 Dock, was relished none the less for being the first breakfast 
 on terra-firma for three weeks. Right glad was I to see 
 this land of beef and beer, pudding and poultry. Apropos 
 of poultry — we had them now and then on ship-board, it is 
 true, embalmed in grease by the sable ruler of the roast ; 
 tough customers they were- forming, from their venerable 
 age, a most interesting study for the antiquarian. 
 
 After breakfast I was in better, trim for delving through 
 the city. Letters of introduction procured kind friends, who 
 devoted their time and attention to me. With a good map 
 I was able, after much practice, to thread my way through 
 the long, labyrinthian streets, changing their name every 
 now and then, and making confusion worse confounded. 
 
 It is amusing to a stranger to see little donkeys trotting 
 
LIVERPOOL. 22 
 
 hither and thither, harnessed to small carts, making a most 
 grotesque appearance by the side of huge draught horses, 
 here in general use. These animals were originally from 
 Andalusia, and will draw three tons. Their hoofs are as 
 large as a man's head. But their slow motion renders them 
 unfit for other uses. 
 
 Although Liverpool is comparatively a dirty city, yet its 
 principal streets are cleaner than those of New- York. Some 
 are M'Adamized; others paved with square stone blocks; 
 and the "busses," as the English call them, roll over the 
 pavement as smoothly as over a plank road. 
 
 The police are dressed in blue uniforms, with military 
 buttons, black belt, and white gloves. Their extremely neat 
 appearance attracts the attention of strangers. They march 
 in file to their stations, morning and evening, and are found 
 at almost every corner. English habits and manners differ 
 in many respects from ours, as might be expected. The 
 mists of inveterate mutual prejudice are moving off, and 
 objects erewhile distorted by a bleared vision, are assuming 
 a more regular shape. 
 
 English hospitality is proverbial. I make no invidious 
 comparisons, but it will always be delightful to recall my 
 experience when a stranger in Britain. To no people on the 
 face of the earth are the Britons more obliging than to 
 Americans. I was invited to dinner almost daily by stran- 
 gers, who could have no other motive but natural goodness 
 of heart. An order was sent me for admission to view St. 
 George's Hall, now erecting, the largest edifice in England, 
 except the two houses of Parliament in London. This 
 huge building is of Yorkshire stone, of a drab colour. The 
 immense interior columns of Scotch granite are polished by 
 a recent discovery, as bright as those of the American capi- 
 tol. A ticket was also sent me, unasked, to a great 
 national meeting at the Liverpool amphitheatre, for the 
 protection of British industry. Five thousand were present, 
 
12 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 including delegates from all parts of the kingdom, and atout 
 three hundred noblemen. The Earl of Wilton, Lord Stanley, 
 Rev. Dr. M'Neile, and many other distinguished gentlemen, 
 made speeches. Hundreds were unahle to get admittance. 
 The first Sunday morning in Liverpool rose peaceful and 
 glorious. England had put on her brightest Summer robes 
 to greet the God of this day of rest. I turned toward 
 Prince's Park in the beautiful suburbs, a couple of miles 
 from my lodgings, desirous to hear the far-famed Rev. Dr. 
 Hugh M'Neile, The music of a hundred chimes greeted me 
 on my way, and I felt a strange, romantic delight, whict 
 not even the beauty of such a day at home could impart. 
 Gradually rising, I caught a view of a wide landscape — 
 the city stretching over pleasant hills, covered with costly 
 structures ; the sun glittering on the river Mersey ; and far, 
 fa,r away, the blue hills of Cheshire, I could not forbear 
 saying aloud, 
 
 " Thon mak'st all Nature beauty to the eye, 
 "And music to the ear." 
 
 It is said of Mahomet, that he refused to stay at Damas- 
 cus, lest its bev/itching scenery should make him forget the 
 heavenly Paradise : but not being a Mahometa,n myself, I 
 am never troubled with his scruples, and can rejoice at 
 such types of the Paradise of God; and I could have lingered 
 for hours, but the spire of St. Paul's was in sight — a taste- 
 ful structure of brown stone, in the pointed Gothic order. 
 I heard the thunder-tones of the magnificent organ at a 
 great distance; and as it was my first Sabbath in England, 
 it will not create wonder when I* say, that what the light- 
 ning could net do in the ocean tempest, that heavenly music 
 did — it unmanned mc ! One of the beadles in black goM^is 
 placed me in a good seat. The congregation was immense, 
 some three thousand, and the m.usic rapturous. Service was 
 conducted by cne of the curates, and the Rev, Dr. M'Neile 
 preached. He is tall and dignified, and his style flowing, 
 
REV. DR. M'NEILE. I3 
 
 natural, graceful, and terse. The doctors in divinity 'vear a 
 red scarf over the clerical dress, and the collegiate degree 
 may he known by the colour of the scarf. Tlie sermon from 
 the words, "Sell me this day thy birthright," was chiefly 
 in support of the law of primogeniture, against Avhich many 
 popular objections are raised. It was too eloquent to be de- 
 scribed, and too deeply tinged with poliiical prejudice to be 
 logical to an American ear. He gave a transparent state- 
 ment of objections, and then proceeded with equal skill to 
 build up his own theory. He had no notes — only a little 
 bible in his hand; and when he referred to it, I saw hun- 
 dreds of bibles fly open : a beautiful novelty, and not one 
 that disturbed my peace. The beginning of his discourse 
 reminded me of a pile of lumber : what is there pleasing in 
 such a sight? At length the fabric rose in graceful propor- 
 tions, like the one in which T sat. Like a stream that runs 
 through open and barren fields, and then suddenly leaping 
 and turning^ hurries through luxuriant foliage, he concealed 
 his argument under a veil of illustration too rich to allow its 
 nakedness to appear. Primogeniture was divinely instituted : 
 were it abolished, all motive to exertion would be destroyed, 
 and universal pauperism result. If the world were one dead 
 level, there would be no fertilizing streams pouring down 
 the mountains — there would be no mxountains. But God 
 would not have it so. Then, in allusion to Victoria's coro- 
 nation : " There was not one of the congregated thousands 
 of all ranks on that occasion that sought any honour for him- 
 self : it was to do homage to the right of primogeniture in a 
 little girl just emerging from childhood ! 'twas beauti- 
 ful !" said the preacher, carried by enthusiasm into the 
 kindred current of loyalty. Aye, all this was beautiful; 
 and so, methought, is our own country, where primogeniture 
 is no better known than pauperism and stagnant society; 
 where industry, enterprise, and activity, are like the rivers, 
 mountains, and cataracts ; lofty, impetuous, and sublime ! 
 
14 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 After church, while gazing forgetfully at the landscape 
 from the verge of Prince's Park, I observed a gentleman 
 approaching. "Iheg your pardon, Sir — are you not from 
 the United States?" "Yes, Sir; I came from New- York for 
 health, and to see your beautiful country." '"Well, Sir, I 
 have been in your country, and was so well treated, that 
 I desire to return that kindness. Come home with me to 
 dinner." A tear stood in my eye, at the thought of finding 
 Christian brethren, when lonely, and so far from home : I 
 thought God sent him to me, and it would have been wrong 
 to decline such singular hospitality. On entering Elm 
 House, Prince's Park, I was struck by the luxurious beauty 
 around. Mr. Maples introduced me to all his family, and 
 their social grace relieved me from all embarrassment. So 
 different is true politeness from the formal stiffness, hauteur, 
 and pretension, rife in some places it would be easy to name. 
 Mr, M. said the Rev. Dr. Tyng preached at St. Paul's, and 
 the congregation were so delighted, that some of them asked 
 the Rev. Dr. M'Neile to invite him to preach again the same 
 day, ^lich he did. I mention this to show that our clergy 
 are "set by" in England as much as theirs are with us. 
 After a sumptuous dinner in English style, and a delightful 
 hour, Mr, M. accompanied me through the magnificent park, 
 and we took leave. The reader may tax his imagination — 
 think of serpentine walks, lakes, slopes, lawns, dingles, 
 shrubbery and flowers in every variety, roses, lilies, yellow 
 broom, and "laburnum rich," holly, and hawthorn, red and 
 white, the glory of all England* and then — go and see it : 
 a voyage would be well repaid. 
 
 Having an invitation to tea and church with Mr. Farmer 
 at Bootle, I passed on with all possible speed, often asking 
 the way, always kindly directed ; but after wandering two 
 hours, ready to drop down with fatigue, and finding myself 
 two miles farther from the church than when I left Prince's 
 Park, I entered St. Matthew's Church, Old Scotland Road. 
 
PARKS— A RUIN. I5 
 
 The picturesque scenery of Cheshire and the fresh air 
 often invited me over the Mersey, One fine afternoon, while 
 admiring the shrubbery in a private park at Birkenhead, the 
 gardener said, "If you will come with me, Sir, I will show 
 what will make you open your eyes." We walked on a 
 couple of miles, and entered St. John's Park. Here Art 
 seems to rival Nature with success. Beautiful diversity ! 
 Here were lawns, level, soft and clean, hills, ledges of rock, 
 ponds half seen through openings of rich foliage and pensile 
 boughs, bridges spanning the winding stream, that like a 
 modest maiden, made its beauty more bewitching by seldom 
 displaying its charms; flowering hawthorn, wild hedges, and 
 variegated flowers, making many a luxurious nook for lake- 
 lings, that here and there nestled so quietly, bearing on 
 their bosom snow-white swans, and inhabited by multitudes 
 of fish. Every now and then some historic or poetic efiigy, 
 at a sudden turn of a winding walk, surprised the sight — 
 a shepherd with his dog by his side, and a little way on, a 
 shepherdess and her lamb. One might mistake them for life 
 itself, had he not all the while an indefinable feeling that 
 he is wandering through a place of enchantment. There 
 is a warrior fallen from his horse, struck down, doubtless, 
 by the magician of the place, just as he was about to pass 
 yonder bridge : his face wears a severe expression of pain; 
 but different from the ineffable grief of this beautiful female 
 resting on the knee of another. Do you see yonder jolly fid- 
 dler rasping away with all his might upon one string? Well 
 done ! He is no doubt the Comus of this garden. And 
 there is a fine statue of Sir William Wallace. All these are 
 in fine marble, and the cost of the whole garden must be 
 enormous. This immense park is free to all. 
 
 One day I came suddenly upon an old ruin near Birken- 
 head. It was an abbey and priory of the thirteenth century. 
 Here was something for Old Mortality. As this was the 
 first ruin I had seen in England, the reader will make some 
 
16 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 allowance for my boyish enthusiasm. Ivy as large as a 
 man's wrist had twined through the crumhling old walls and 
 buttresses. In the crypt stone pillars supported arches on 
 which the edifice rested. On an oblong brown stone was an 
 inscription round the border : " Here lyeth Thomas Rainford, 
 the good Prior of this House, who died May. [supposed 1400] 
 on whose soul have mercy, God." The date was scaled 
 oiF. The stone had been taken from the floor and placed in 
 the outer wall for preservation. Mr. Breresford kindly gave 
 me one of the triangular earthen tiles with which the floor 
 was paved, which he said were much prized. From the 
 tower of the modern Gothic church the view was glorious. 
 Below was the roof of the old abbey covered with tall grass 
 and gooseberry bushes. Over the Mersey, about the width of 
 the Hudson at New- York, is Liverpool, reaching to the 
 utmost point of sight; New-Brighton lighthouse, towers, 
 and windmills; and forty miles ofl", half veiled in bluish 
 haze, were the pyramid mountains of Wales. The birds 
 were singing responses to the breeze that rustled through the 
 churchyard grove that partly hid the abbey and priory. 
 
 In passing through this beautiful town I stopped to look 
 at some excavations, supposing the stone to be the founda- 
 tion of some immense feudal castle; and was siirprised to 
 learn from a gentleman standing at his gate, that it was a 
 quarry. The stone were cut out in vast blocks, so smooth 
 that the remaining part looked like a well built wall. On 
 asking the gentleman if he could direct me to a coffee-house, 
 saying I was an American, he replied, "O yes, there are 
 several : but perhaps you can't do better than to take dinner 
 with me ?" I assured him I never thought of fishing for an 
 invitation. "I know it," said he: "but you will be welcome 
 to our roast mutton and rice pudding." So I rested for a 
 pleasant hour with him. The name of my entertainer was 
 Brown, a Scotchman, who said he had been in America. 
 
 Having missed the way while wandering over the fields, 
 
LIVERPOOL DOCKS. 17 
 
 I asked a gentleman among the hedges, the way to Oxton, a 
 lovely swell above and beyond Birkenhead. He said he was a 
 bit of a trespasser himself, and would show me. We ascended 
 the highest point of observation, where we remained an hour, 
 drinking in the glorious and exhilarating scene. Parks, wide 
 lawns, gardens, groves, and villages, decorated the boundless 
 landscape. There were the azure mountains of Denbighshire, 
 thirty miles away. On yonder high peak of Moel-Fammau, 
 in Wales, is the Jubilee Column reared in 1814 to commemo- 
 rate the fiftieth year of the reign of George III. and the 
 French peace after the battle of Waterloo. The sun glows 
 on the Irish Sea, and the Dee. famed in song, winds between 
 Hillbury Island and the main land. The rich estates around 
 belong to the Earl of Shrewsbury, whose ancestors are styled 
 in history " the proud Talbots." The stranger, on our retiirn, 
 asked me to stop at his house and rest ; after which, thank- 
 ing him for his kindness, he said, " Don't go yet — tea is ready 
 in the next room." The fourth invitation in one day ! 
 
 The enormous cost and solidity of the Liverpool Docks 
 are amazing. Of these there are thirty or forty. A high 
 massive brick wall runs their entire length. Officers are 
 stationed at the several entrances, which are shut at night. 
 They are named after great men and events — Nelson, Wel- 
 lington, Canning, Clarence, Victoria, Trafalgar, Waterloo. 
 Parliament was in vain petitioned to prevent the building of 
 docks at Birkenhead, which bid fair to eclipse (b^it not vdth 
 smoke) those of Liverpool. Birkenhead possesses many ad- 
 vanges for persons trading in Liverpool, being remarkably 
 picturesque and salubrious, the prevailing westerly winds 
 driving away the LiA^erpool smoke. Bebbington, Tranmere, 
 Woodside, Liscard, and New-Brighton, stretch along the shore 
 for miles, in beautifully undulating slopes. Numerous pow- 
 erful iron ferry-boats ply to various jioints. They look black 
 and smoky ; and though the engines are below deck, yet for 
 
 beauty, are unlike our aquatic palaces on the East River. 
 2* 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 The shades of time serenely fall 
 On every broken arch and ivied 'rrall. 
 
 Rogers. 
 
 Let lis go to Chester. It is only fifteen miles from Monk's 
 ferry, at Birkenhead. The Roman antiquities will delight 
 and astonish you. Step into the railway carriage and take 
 a seat. The porter swings his hell — there is a shrill whis- 
 tle—the stout fire-horse gi-ws a vigorous puff and a snort or 
 two — whiff! phit-phit ! and away he goes, at the top of his 
 speed, breathing hot steam, smoke and cinders ! We glide 
 "beautifully over the iron road ; and the iron horse carries all 
 before him. No; I am wrong : he leaves everything behind; 
 for we hardly get a glimpse of the glowing landscape before 
 it is far away out of sight. Why, the railroads in England 
 are almost as good as they are in Yankeedom ! Better ; for 
 the bed of the road is so hard with small stones, that no 
 dust is raised; and the rails being underlaid with felt, the 
 cars roll as smoothly as over a plank road. This June day 
 is delightfully serene. All England is in full leaf. Haw- 
 thorn hedges are in bloom on both sides of the road, or 
 deck the top of a sloping greensward embankment, sprin- 
 kled with red poppies and English daisies, for twenty to 
 fifty feet above the road. Glittering towns on romantic 
 slopes, tasteful Gothic churches with pointed spire and 
 turret, villas, windmills, castles, prim and quiet homsteads, 
 gardens, parks, with every feature of luxury and refinement, 
 and every requisite of enchanting landscape, dance toward us 
 and sweep by out of sight. 
 
 But here we are in Chester ! a short and easy trip from 
 the world of life to the old and buried past. Here, as a 
 
CHESTER CATHEDRAL. jg 
 
 Roman pavei; ent ansAversyour tread, disturbing some pagan 
 altar-stone, or some broken tile stamped with the name of 
 an imperial legion, it would be no strange dream, were a 
 tall warrior to start up, and leaning on his spear, gaze 
 wonderingly at one so new and strange to his eyes, seeming 
 by his wild stare to say, " Who are you, without a toga? 
 America! In the name of Csesar, where is that? Ame- 
 rica ! — in a steamship — three thousand miles in one week ! 
 Ye gods ! let me return to Pluto's place of realities ! I dare 
 not stay in a world of mysteries ?" Good bye if you will go ! 
 
 A gentleman passenger in the railway takes me by the 
 arm, and offers to show me some of the antiquities of Ches- 
 ter. "VVe will therefore make a flying visit through this 
 wonderful spot, and leave the Roman spirits to their medi- 
 tations. The many natural advantages of Chester, with its 
 water privileges, made it a favourite spot with the Romans. 
 A Roman legion (the XXth) encamped here before the birth 
 of Christ. My courteous friend passed with me through the 
 principal streets, giving the history of whatever was called 
 up on the way. " Look !" said he : " do you see the inscrip- 
 tion in large black letters, running across that old house ? 
 'God's Providence is mine inheritance.' That was the 
 only house in Chester not visited by the plague in 1666." 
 This line is itself a book of history, poetry, and religion ! To 
 look was not enough. I entered, to realize more fully its 
 awfully interesting associations. 
 
 Our next visit was to the celebrated Chester cathedral, 
 that time-worn fabric that has triumphed over a thousand 
 years; the wonder of ancient and modern times. It is 
 in various styles of Gothic, and is much decayed from the 
 perishable nature of the bro^vTi stone. The effect of the 
 light from the large windows is very beautiful. 17'. -5 carved 
 devices in British oak, and the Gothic tracery of the interior, 
 are perhaps unrivalled for beauty of design and deft-like 
 finish. My polite friend copied from the wall, and handed 
 
20 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE 
 
 mCj saying it would be of interest to us New-Yorkers, an 
 inscription " To the memory of George Clarke, Esq. of Hyde 
 Park, who was formerly Lieutenant Governor of New- York, 
 and afterward became resident of this city. He died 1740, 
 and was buried in this church." The bishop's throne is 
 superbly ornamented, and is said to have been the ancient 
 shrine of St. Werburgh. Who is St. Werburgh? My eccle- 
 siastical knowledge needs posting up ! The cathedral has a 
 splendid modern built organ. Four piers support the great 
 central tower. One of the transepts has an ornamental roof 
 supported by angels, holding emblems of the crucifixion. 
 The arms of Cardinal Wolsey are at the intersection of the 
 roof beams. In the wall on one side are six semicircular 
 arches resting on low pillars of early Norman masonry. 
 These denote the burial-place of six Norman abbots. Part 
 of the cathedral wall was shown me as the original Roman 
 wall of the city, built in the fourth century by the Emperor 
 Maximus. 
 
 Let us now go up on the walls and pass round the city. 
 They are the only perfect remains of ancient fortifications. 
 Those of York are comparatively modern. Many suppose 
 the Chester walls were built in the year 73 : others assign 
 them an older date than Rome itself. They are of soft free 
 stone, with an excellent promenade, kept perfectly clean' 
 and a stone parapet runs their whole length. The classic 
 Dee winds around the city, and the sun glistens on its dis- 
 tant waters stealing along the fat vales, like melted silver; 
 the rich landscape stretching far off" into Wales, fairly en- 
 trancing the imagination. An elevated moss-covered stone 
 fabric called the Phcenix tower, is a prominent object. From 
 this tower on the northeast angle of the walls, Charles L 
 saw his army defeated in the plain beyond, while marching 
 to the relief of the city in 1645. Narrow apertures three 
 feet long, just allowed arrows to be shot at the enemy to 
 advantage. The battle was between Sir Marmaduke Long- 
 
ROMAN ANTIQUITIES. 21 
 
 dale and the Parliamentary forces under Gen. Pointz. That 
 night the king fled into Wales. Now, after the lapse of two 
 centuries, instead of Rowton INIoor covered with thousands of 
 soldierSj we behold highly cultivated farms, villages sprin- 
 kled over the landscape, peaceful homesteads — the blessed 
 effects of peace ! Close under the walls is the Ellesmere 
 Canal, cut out of solid rock; and a short distance from thi#* 
 point may be seen the magnificent railway buildings. The 
 romantic view of the Water-tower baffles description. Its 
 towering, circular form, hoary with age ; its broken battle- 
 ments enwreathed with ivy, called up associations full of 
 strange delight. I dated my existence a thousand years 
 back, but soon awoke as from a strange dream, hurried back 
 to 1850. A short distance from the Northgate, an arch 
 over one of the main streets, is Morgan's Mount, from which 
 there is a glorious view of the windings of the Dee, a light- 
 house on the Point of Ayr, the town and castle of Flint, the 
 Jubilee Column on Moel-Fammau, "the Mother of Hills," 
 in Wales, the Clwydian hills, and the castle and church of 
 Hawarden. Rich and unrivalled picture ! Some minds look 
 at brilliant things with silent wonder; others breakout in 
 rapture. For my own part, though I am a mixture of both, 
 I should be ashamed of myself if I should keep still at such 
 sights. No, no : I am not Quaker enough for that. I never 
 insult an artist by a silent admiration of his master-piece. 
 We pass the Training College in the Tudor Gothic style, and 
 the Museum of the Mechanics' Institxition, containing many 
 ancient and modern curiosities, to take a sight through the 
 Camera Obscura, displaying the whole surrounding country 
 in miniature ! All moving objects pass under the eye : while 
 patches of rich green landscape, or the sun shining on the 
 Dee, present pictures of delicious and magic beaiity. At 
 the top of this antique tower is a telescope, which, on a clear 
 day like this, reveals a world of beauty and glory ! Look 
 throusfh it ! There is the Great Ormshead iutting out into 
 
22 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the sea at Llandidno, in Caernarvonshire, Jubilee Column 
 on the summit of Moel Fammau, and the entire range of 
 Clwydian hills from Cwm, by St. Asaph, Flintshire, to Llan- 
 gollen in Denbighshire. From this commanding eminence 
 you can seen the railway trains flying between Chester, 
 Holyhead and Shrewsbury. I would go all the way to Eu- 
 *fbpe to see this picture again ! So you can set me down for 
 an enthusiast at once. Across the Dee is BrewQr's Hall, 
 where Oliver Cromwell planted his cannon, and battered 
 away at this very tower during the siege of Chester. On 
 one fond of romantic pictures like these, the effect is bewil- 
 dering : it is difficult for the mind to retain its self-possession. 
 The Watergate is another beautiful stone arch. A century 
 ago the tide flowed up to these very walls, and vessels floated 
 on the present site of Paradise Row. I pass the Roodee, an 
 extensive velvet lawn, having the appearance of a splendid 
 amphitheatre, large enough to contain 100,000 men at the 
 periodical races. Our walk round these walls brings us to 
 the famous Castle built by William the Conqueror, in 1066, 
 since whose time it has undergone many changes. There 
 is nothing very peculiar about its appearance, but the old 
 embattled walls. The grand Grecian Doric entrance is much 
 admired for its resemblance to the famous Athenian Acro- 
 polis. The castle is a royal fortress with a governor and 
 30,000 stand of arms. Grosvenor bridge, a splendid stone 
 arch, is seen to advantage outside the castle walls. It has 
 a single span of 200 feet, and rivals everything of the kind 
 in the world. This magnificent bridge was opened in 1832, 
 on the occasion of Victoria's visit to Eaton Hall. The Ship- 
 way was an ancient Roman gateway through the walls. 
 Opposite is a ford leading to Edgar's Field, where stands an 
 old sculpture of the Diva Armigera Pallas, which the Roman 
 soldiers are supposed 'to have carved for their amusement. 
 Near this odd-looking figure is a large hole in a rock, called 
 Edgar's Cave. In 973 King Edgar was triumphantly rowed 
 
ROMAN ANTIQUITIES. 23 
 
 from his palace by eight kings to the monastery, now St. 
 John's Churchj on the banks of the Dee. Over the door 
 of a house, I was shown a rude painting representing that 
 singular event. I suppose it was the site of his palace. 
 Traces of a camp have been found near this spot. Doubtless 
 they are authentic; at least I found no trouble in yielding 
 my tribute of faith. Yet the similarity of the scene to one 
 in The Antiquary, did not escape my mind. Oldbuck 
 carried some virtuosos to see a supposed Roman camp; 
 and on his exclaiming, at a particular spot — " This I take to 
 be the Praitorium !" a herdsman who stood by cried out — 
 "Prsetorium here, Proetorium there; I made it wi' a flaugh- 
 ter spade !" The great Roman road into Venedotia, or North 
 Wales, is near this ancient monument. An altar was dug 
 up in Foregate street in 1653, and is preserved among the 
 Arundelian marbles at Oxford. 
 
 From the top of Bridgegate, a handsome stone arch with 
 two posterns, another brilliant picture opens — the romantic 
 slopes of the Dee, an old bridge, the suburbs of Handbridge, 
 and a milk-white waterfall, tumbling over the causeway. 
 This bridge of seven arches leading over to Handbridge, is 
 supposed to have been built by Edward the Elder in 1250. 
 The sun never shone on a lovelier landscape. The decayed 
 old tonfer of St. John's lifts its venerable form skyward in 
 gloomy magnificence, a prominent waymark from a great 
 distance. This church contains more remains of Saxon 
 architecture than any other in England. 
 
 The walls do not include half the present populous city. 
 Many beautiful massive stone arches span the main streets, 
 which extend far beyond the old Roman walls. 
 
 After these rapid glances my kind conductor took leave, 
 saying he would be glad of my company to Birkenhead in the 
 evening, but falling in with another friend, I was prevented 
 from seeing him again. It was with a feeling of grateful 
 respect that I shook him by the hand. 
 
24 FIRST VISIT TO EUHOPE. 
 
 During a stroll about the city, I saw many queer-lcoking 
 objects. The gables of all the houses are turned toward the 
 street. The tip-top fashion a thousand years ago was orna- 
 mental painting of the gables in black stripes with diagonal 
 intersections, presenting something of the appearance of a 
 leafless pine-tree. Some of them have dates in long black 
 figures — 1001, 1003, 1006. The houses looked as if they 
 would tumble into the street, and everything was in keeping 
 with their antiqiiated appearance. The rows, galleries, or 
 terraces, are a strange yet convenient peculiarity. People 
 walk along these rows over the shops in the street, under the 
 second floor of the houses. It is as if the second story were 
 drawn a dozen feet forward ; thus forming two lines of stores 
 along the entire street, with a broad terrace-walk. TK'^ 
 terraces supported by old oak posts afibrd a capital protection 
 from the weather. This style has been in vogue ever since 
 the city was founded by the Romans. Every feature of an- 
 tiquity is carefully preserved : no modern notion of utility 
 is allowed to interfere ; although forty years ago scarcely a 
 glass window was to be seen. Huge hanging shutters on 
 hinges are fastened to the ceiling of the terrace in the day- 
 time, and let down at night. The streets laid out by the 
 Romans are rectangular, and strange to say, were excavated 
 out of solid rock, and the houses are some ten feet ab^ve the 
 street. 
 
 The population had qiiite a miscellaneous appearance, 
 and their wardrobe looked like a mixture of the fashions of 
 ten centuries : dowdy-looking old women as broad as they 
 were long; fish- women with baskets on their heads, and 
 arms a-kimbo ; hatless men and women creeping about ; and 
 labourers with trousers buttoned round the knee — certainly 
 the whole town and its busy population was the drollest 
 sight these eyes of mine evf r witnessed. And then, the 
 huge ungainly draught-horses with the tread of an elephant; 
 little drab-coloured, long-eared donkeys, with wooden sad- 
 
ODDITIES. 25 
 
 dies, and tackled to rickety carts, trotting about the city 
 under the command of some wobegone charioteer, were 
 enough to make one laugh outright. Strange sights these to 
 a New-Yorker ! 
 
 Observing a gentleman of plain appearance standing at 
 his gate, I inquired the way to the best rural scenery in the 
 neighbourhood. "I will show you," said he, stepping in to 
 get his hat. I thought he would just cross the street and 
 point out the road ; but that gentleman was my agreeable 
 companion till night. How the reader may regard this little 
 adventure I cannot tell ; but to me it seemed the strangest 
 thing that ever happened in my whole life. Happened ! It 
 seemed all arranged beforehand ! 
 
 An antique wooden building with the gable toward the 
 street, and covered with gingerbread ornaments, my friend 
 assured me was once the residence of Queen Anne. Could 
 it be possible that should have been the palace of a British 
 Queen? " Let us drop into St. Mary's Church," said he. Its 
 age I know not : it looked as old as the very hills. Nothing 
 much later than antediluvian times will interest me till I 
 get away from Chester. A garrulous, ignorant old woman 
 intruded herself as a guide, interrupting our conversation 
 with her stereotype history of remarkables. My friend said 
 he was positively ashamed of the beggarly English practice 
 of making a commodity of everything curious, especially 
 churches. This came with such a grace from an English- 
 man that I ventured to feel ashamed myself. However, a six- 
 pence fairly choked the old lady, and after an obsequious 
 courtesy, as if I were emperor of the globe, she departed. In 
 one corner of the church was an inclosed pile, on which 
 reposed the effigies of the father and mother of the lad of 
 fourteen who concealed King Charles after his defeat in the 
 battle of Rawton Moor. The lad sat at their feet in a recum- 
 bent posture. This boy was afterward mayor of Chester. 
 I must enter that house where the king was hidden. It has 
 3 
 
2g FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 no less than three thresholds from the main door, and I 
 overstepped them all. 
 
 Giving myself in charge of my intelligent cicerone, we 
 passed over the Dee, and soon after a neat chain bridge that 
 tremhled to the footstep, Onr way was through Overlegh, 
 an undulating, picturesque landscape, along a smooth, hard 
 road, rising gracefully through a fine lawny country, agree- 
 ably diversified. Every trace of the rich scenery indicated 
 a wealthy owner • but I was unaware of being in the park 
 grounds of the richest noblem.an in England, the Marquis 
 of Westminster, whose park is thirty-six miles round ! IMy 
 companion said William the Conqueror gave it to his ances- 
 tor for services as a "whipper-in." A very handsome slice 
 of this world ! The broad gravelled avenues are lined with 
 copsewood, luxuriant with red-flowering hawthorn, the pride 
 of England, glossy-leaved holly, yellow laburnum, bending 
 in beauty, and every variety of choice flower and shrub. 
 Beneath the shade of the monarch of the wood, buttercnj.s 
 and daisies besprinkled the wide lawns j while many a beau- 
 tiful villa peeped through the trees on some distant hill, 
 suddenly revealed by opening vistas. Yonder is Beestoti hill 
 and castle, the seat of Mr. Tollermacli, member of Parlia- 
 ment for Chester^ Caergwrle in Wales, almost lost in the 
 bluish haze ; Batterfall and castle ; and another fine vievv' 
 of the Welsh hills and the Jubilee obelisk. Looking back, 
 we have a glance at the old city of Chester, with its hoary 
 towers, embattled walls and castle, beautifully grouped. 
 A three mile walk through such scenery brought us to the 
 triumphal gateway. The castellated towers of Grosvenor 
 Lodge a mile farther on, drew from me a burst of delighted 
 surprise. I was in the land of romance, and thought of 
 knights, squires, chivalry and tournaments, in the olden days 
 of feudal lords ] and found it diflicult to check audible emo- 
 tion. My friend saw this, and said it was all right ! Fr( m 
 a central square tower rises an octagon turret of some fifty 
 
EATON HALL. 27 
 
 feet, considerably above the main edifice. The pointed 
 Gothic archway, is enriched with skilfully wrought foliage. 
 The middle story has two Gothic windows, and in a central 
 niche are the Westminster arms, in full relief. Over the 
 windows are grotesque heads and fretwork; the whole sur- 
 mounted by rich battlements. A few travellers who affect 
 to set the fashion in taste, and can see no beauty except in 
 an old ruin, express contempt for modern grandeur as con- 
 trasted with antiquity — Eaton Hall, for instance, compared 
 with the Chester cathedral : all which is sheer affectation. 
 
 On asking the mistress of the Lodge for a glass of water, 
 it was brought after some delay ; bu.t as it was unfit to drink, 
 I ventured to ask a cup of milk for myself and friend, there 
 being no hotel nearer than Chester; and finally a tumbler 
 of execrable buttermilk was brought, such as English dairy- 
 men give to their pigs. I thought of jEsop's fox in the 
 brambles, and so made a virtue of necessity by quaffing it 
 instanter. For this I paid his Lordship the Marquis of 
 Westminster one penny sterling, which will doubtless help 
 to swell some such charitable fund as the Blue Coat School. 
 
 But yonder is Eaton Hall, half revealed through the 
 huge oaks, whose big, straight, branchless trunks tower to 
 a prodigious height. All around the park were grazing 
 herds of beautifully spotted deer that had cast their antlers; 
 and though this is no novelty in England, it was a pleasing 
 one to me. Eaton Hall resembles a series of palaces, and 
 is exceedingly magnificent : the most splendid modern speci- 
 men of pointed Gothic. Its numberless lofty towers, but- 
 tresses, niches, and pinnacles ; its fretwork, foliage, pendants, 
 heraldry, and elaborate carvings, and especially the rich 
 embattlement, made me wonder where all the cash came 
 from to build such a mighty structure ! In fact, this stu- 
 pendous pile ha^ never been finished. A large number of 
 workmen were, busy outside with mallet and chisel. 
 
 We entered the lower part of the palace, but were unable 
 
28 FIRST VISIT TO EUEOPE. 
 
 to find the steward, or any one who could tell his where- 
 abouts. There were hells which communicated with Lord 
 Westminster's library, Lady Westminster's drawing-room, 
 Lady so-and-so's dressing-room : but these bells were to call 
 up spirits from the vasty deep. What magic is there in 
 a republican knock, or pull at the door-bell ? None ! — for 
 his Lordship is not at home, and all his servants are — some- 
 where else. Farewell to the noble mansion of the most 
 noble the Marquis of Westminster ! I admire thy magni- 
 ficence, but have no opportunity of paying the same tribute 
 to the hospitality which I did not find here, or at the Lodge 
 yonder ! Let us look abroad on Nature. Her castles are 
 the blue mountains* her lodges, secluded dells and shady 
 groves, whose floors are the lawns overspread with a green 
 velvet carpet, wrought in her own magic loom. The blue 
 drapery of heaven, fringed with haze, is let down all round 
 our green earth. All these things are yours and mine — Na- 
 ture gave them to no "whipper-in." 
 
 " Look, look,'* said my friend; "here's what I vfant you to 
 see — ^this view !" Through a broad avenue of two miles, 
 with giant oaks irregularly disposed, all in full foliage, I 
 saw another garden of Eden : 
 
 "And faintly smiling through, the soft blue skies, 
 "Like castled clouds the Cambrian hills arise." 
 
 Those "delectable mountains" are in Denbighshire. Our 
 return was by another route along the banks of the Dee, 
 which flows through part of the estate. A piece of an old 
 carved stone turret lying on the ground, was duly pocketed 
 as a curious memento. The scenery here grows charmingly 
 beautiful, made up of dell and dingle, slope, lawn, and 
 grove. At some sudden turn of the path, we caught inspiring 
 glimpses of the distant landscape : in another moment we 
 were hid in rural wilds, shrubbery and flowers, of the richest 
 variety. We stopped at a romantic cottage at the foot of 
 a hill, where a magnificent iron bridge, painted white, be- 
 
RURAL SCENERY. 29 
 
 strides tlie crystal Dee, with a single span of a hundred and 
 fifty feet. A gentleman informed me it was reared to pre- 
 vent the Marquis' sons from swimming the stream, which 
 they often did at imminent risk in hunting excursions. He 
 said a young lady of the cottage would be perfectly at home 
 in sketching it for me, only, she was — not at home. 
 
 Reluctantly quitting these enticing grounds, we had a 
 fine view of the eastern front of the prodigious palace. This 
 paradise of lawns and parterres was Victoria's playground 
 when she was a child, while on a visit with her mother the 
 Duchess of Kent at Eaton Hall. A neat iron fence runs all 
 along the river hank, leaving room enough for a footpath, 
 according to law. Neat mansions of light red stone, occu- 
 pied by the tenantry and servants of the Marquis, were 
 sprinkled over the estate. Vast quarries of this stone abound 
 in Cheshire and Lancashire. Near the bank is a ledge, out 
 of which a grotto was scooped, straddled by the roots of a 
 glorious old oak, forming a handsome depressed Gothic arch, 
 under which there is a seat for travellers. I really felt 
 obliged to the Marquis for the accommodation. By the way, 
 it was not his fault that we could not boast of dining with 
 him that day. 
 
 It is impossible for imagination to conceive a picture 
 more lovely than Christleton village, with its tasteful Gothic 
 church and rectory on a romantic hillside, half concealed in 
 a grove of immortal green. We gazed at the landscape till 
 the sinking sun hung over the distant hills. In the corner 
 of a spacious meadow, screened from the sun by thick holly 
 and hawthorn, was a group of cows; and a kind-hearted 
 milkmaid refused pay for a drink of milk. 
 
 After this weary yet delightful jaunt, T took leave of my 
 pleasant friend at Chester, returning to Liverpool that night. 
 
 Falling in with two such gentlemen, who contributed so 
 much to my enjoyment in one day, is too remarkable not to 
 create emotions of grateful astonishment. 
 
CHAPTER IV. 
 Contoas antr €:astle— 33aiTpt:— ^^oluljcas. 
 
 Here naked rocks and empty -wastes are seen ; 
 There to-vvering cities and the forests green ; 
 Here sailing ships delight the wandering eyes ; 
 There trees and intermingled temples rise ; 
 Now a clear sun the shining scene displays ; 
 The transient landscape into smoke decays. 
 
 Fops. 
 
 After arranging some difficult and important affairs, by 
 the advice and assistance of George Wright, Esq. an Ame- 
 rican merchant of Liverpool, I took a route through North 
 Wales. The generous sympathy of that gentleman is an- 
 other among many green spots to which it will always be 
 delightful to revert. Leaving Liverpool on the 8th of. June 
 by railway through Chester, (perambulating the walls a 
 second time,) I took the train in the afternoon, and swept 
 by a number of pretty towns, the largest of which are E.hyl 
 and Holywell. The view all along the river Dee is very 
 fine; and after it empties into the Irish Sea, the ocean 
 scenery on the coast of Wales, Flintshire, Denbighshire, 
 and Caernarvonshire, is an ever-varioiis blending of beauty 
 and majesty. Villages are sprinkled along the steep, green 
 banks of many an estuary of the sea, with a background of 
 lofty and ragged mountain peaks. I expected to see every 
 peak surmounted by a goat; but was informed they had 
 been banished from the country long ago, from the injury 
 they do to the trees. They might now be recalled from exile, 
 as there are very few trees left to be girdled. Sometimes 
 the train ran close along the beach for miles; then gradually 
 wheeling, we lost sight of the sea for a little v^iile, as the 
 snorting fire-steed swept madly through a narrow valley, the 
 wild mountains of this " Switzerland in miniature" rever- 
 
CASTLE RUINS. 3j 
 
 berating with his slirill scream, calling on all animated 
 nature to get out of his way ! All at once a vista would 
 open out on the boundless Atlantic, as the low sun flung a 
 broad, dazzling sheet of flame over the watery waste. The 
 big orb hastens to dip himself in the ocean, and before I am 
 on the Irish Sea, he will shine on the mountains of my native 
 land. See how his departing glory trembles on the softly 
 murmuring expanse ! The bright villages of the hills and 
 narrow vales winding between steep mountains, are gor- 
 geously lit up by the rich, mellow tints of departing day ! 
 
 At nine in the evening I reached Conway. As t^wilight 
 in Britain lasts till about eleven, it may be inferred that 
 such a wonder as the famous Conway Castle in ruins would 
 be improved. I was quite amazed by its grandeur, and went 
 round and round, scanning the ruins from every point. The 
 inside walls of one spacious, roofless hall, was all covered 
 with green English ivy ! The soft twilight falling among 
 these crumbling, lonely, deserted walls, made that scene one 
 of awful beauty. How I wished some American friend could 
 have shared my delight ! I bought a few views, but deter-^ 
 mined to engrave them on my own mind; and so climbed 
 the peak of many a romantic mou.ntain, I stood on the very 
 scene of Gray's Welch Bard, 
 
 On a rock, whose haughty bro-w 
 FroAvii'd on old Conway's foaming flood. 
 
 From this lofty eminence the river, vvith its beautiful sus- 
 pension bridge, the distant hills and undulating vales, and 
 the tovv^n and its castle on the slopes below, afford a pic- 
 ture of unrivalled sublimity. The mountains have all sorts 
 of fantastic shapes — ^bold, broken, abrupt, gloomy, sublime. 
 Dr. Johnson, writing to a friend, said he had seen a castle 
 in Wales that Avould contain all the castles in Scotland. 
 The Doctor probably meant this for a dry hit at the Scotch, 
 and must have meant Conway Castle; for Avhat is there in 
 all England like this? One cluster of ruins consists of eight 
 
32 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 or ten towers apparently a hundred feet high, and three 
 times the width, occupying vast acres. Portions of the 
 massive battlements and arches were here and there decayed 
 and broken, and flocks of crows were flying in and out of the 
 numerous holes in the moss-grown walls and ivy-mantled 
 battlements. To depict the solemn grandeur of these gray 
 ruins, the stupendous monuments of old Time, would be like 
 an attempt to paint a clap of thunder. These are the crum- 
 bling remains of feudal glory. The haughty baron that held 
 the villain in thraldom is departed. No voice of power; 
 no music, mirth, and festal banquet — all are silent ! It 
 might be a question whether the lords temporal or lords 
 spiritual held their subjects in the completest vassalage. 
 Like these old castles and priories, the one-man power in 
 Britain is in ruins — a splendid wreck of the Past. Yet even 
 now there is a stamp of mind on the strong castle which still 
 looks out upon the soil where repose the bones of its ancient 
 masters. 
 
 Next morning, long before daylight, I clambered a barren 
 and almost inaccessible mountain, 
 
 " Wliile all the world below was lost in sleep." 
 
 My feelings were like the gloomy solitudes that reigned 
 all around the mountains — melancholy enough. Excitement 
 kept me alive, and curiosity kept me in motion. I wandered, 
 or rather stumbled on, leaping mountain streams, climbing 
 high hedges interlaced with briars, the stones tumbling 
 down after me with angry velocity, crashing every sapling in 
 the way, while the mountains echoed with the strange noise. 
 This caused me some alarm; for, would T like to be fired at 
 or seized as a depredator? Pray, what were you doing 
 there? Why, I wanted to see the country; but found no 
 sign of a path, and so had to make one ! T placed my cane 
 firmly in the ground at every step, to prevent a tumble-down 
 head over heels. In this wild though innocent ramble, the 
 
MOUNTAIN RAMBLES. 33 
 
 barking of a cottage dog at the sound of my footsteps while 
 crossing a corn-field, made me feel more forcibly than ever, 
 the truthful beauty of Beattie's rural gem, . 
 
 The cottage curs at early pilgrim bark. 
 
 The next specimen of animated nature I encountered 
 seemed inclined to receive me with more hospitality. It 
 was a huge hog issuing from his pen at four in the morn- 
 ing ! His physiognomy showed extreme solicitude and dis- 
 appointment. It was amusing to see him steadily gaze at 
 me with nose upturned till I was fairly out of sight. Poor 
 fellow ! he gained no more by abandoning his pen than 
 some authors do by sticking to theirs ! 
 
 Returning to the town, weary and dejected, I sat down by 
 the riverside, admiring the surrounding scenery. A Welch- 
 man, observing that I was sad and lonely, took me to his 
 humble cottage, and — ^blessings on him ! — gave me some 
 medical assistance. I knew not a single soul in all the 
 Principality; and those who have never been in a foreign 
 clime, thousands of miles from home, alone, and ill, can never 
 enter into my feelings. Tears would start, but I must brush 
 them away, and banish all thoughts of home as a religious 
 duty; for thousands of miles and many months intervene. 
 
 I remained an hour by the Welchman's fireside, and fell 
 asleep from fatigue. The summer season in Britain is often 
 chilly, and even with winter clothing I was not always 
 comfortable. My entertainer muttered the word " chapter," 
 and I was pleased at the thought of his reading the Bible ; 
 but it was not till he had repeated the word, that it dawned 
 on me that he meant his attendance at the chapter, and that 
 he was a Welch Catholic. I thanked him, and withdrew. 
 
 When the sun was up, the whole circling horizon was 
 unspeakably glorious, viewed from a neighbouring mountain. 
 Between the ruins was the blue Irish Channel ; in the dim 
 distance was the Great Ormshead; while cattle were grazing 
 
34 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 on all the green hills glowing in the cheerful morning sun- 
 shine ! A hright and beautiful lesson to the heart ! 
 
 In an hour after leaving Conway, the railway set me 
 down in Bangor. Like many Welch towns, it lies in a nar- 
 row valley between mountains. Bangor is a bishoprick. It 
 was once defended by strong walls, and had an ancient 
 monastery with 2,400 monks ! The V/elch have been for 
 ages celebrated for their bold and sweet music; and the 
 ancient bards were in such high esteem that their influence 
 was completely sovereign. An amusing anecdote was told 
 me of Welch pride of pedigree. A lady was tracing her family 
 through a remote period, when a wit said, " Madam, do begin 
 with Adam !" A proud Welchman said of one who wanted to 
 marry his daughter, " 0, he is a fellow of yesterday ! I'll be 
 bound his family was not born before Christ !" 
 
 St, Daniel's Cathedral, is a long, low, antique edifice, 
 without the least beauty. One end is for the Welch, the 
 other for the English service, which begins when the first 
 is ended, at eleven o'clock. One of the several beadles in 
 black gowns stowed me away in one corner of the cathedral 
 with an air that seemed to say, "Sit thou there !" From 
 this remote point I could study poor human nature to advan- 
 tage. The beadles with all their honours thick upon them, 
 were dancing attendance on the fashionables, piloting them 
 to the best seats, with great obsequiousness. It was not 
 their gowns I disliked — by no means ; for that custom is 
 appropriate and convenient. It was their ineffable vanity 
 and foppery that disgusted me. I saw nothing like this 
 in Britain — far otherwise. At Westminster Abbey and St. 
 Paul's, London, all are treated alike. At Bangor, appear- 
 ances are decisive. Wo to any unlucky v/ight who loses 
 his keys, (as I did,) and therefore cannot unprison his Sun- 
 day requisites ! The organ was a very fine one ; and the full 
 cathedral service, a novelty to me, well executed. The 
 sermon — ^what of it? A tolerably good style and delivery 
 
BANGOR CATHEDRAL. 35 
 
 make small amends for erroneous doctrine. It was too one- 
 sided and dogmatical for truth and candour. Fatigue and 
 illness made me what I abominate, a drowsy hearer; and it 
 is charitable to suppose I can never know my loss, A few 
 dignified sneers may have great weight with such as are too 
 indolent or deferential to their minister to analyze for them- 
 selves. In this way, much wear and tear of brain is saved 
 the preacher and hearer. It was St. Daniel's Cathedral, 
 
 but the E^ev. ]\Ir. P was not a " second Daniel come to 
 
 judgment." The graves in the churchyard have a coffin- 
 shaped border of long, smooth, strips of slate, of uniform 
 thickness, projecting a few inches abov6, forming a neat but 
 gloomy picture. 
 
 The women with masculine faces and large bell-crowned 
 men's hats, tied with a blue ribbon, made an odd appear- 
 ance. They seemed a kind of compound of the sexes — not 
 Amazons, for these had beauty — ^but a centaur race, in 
 which the equestrian was exchanged for a feminine ingre- 
 dient, while the upper portion remained still unchanged, 
 presiding over the inferior half. This uncouth image must 
 serve for a better. 
 
 On ascending a mountain to get the fine air and a sight 
 of the country around, I was surprised at its fertility and 
 beauty. A little beyond was the Bay of Beaumaris, which 
 narrows into the Straits of Menai flowing into Caernarvon 
 Bay, thus forming the Isle of Anglesey. The grand tubular 
 Britannia bridge, the last wonder of the world, was to be 
 floated near Bangor the next day; but illness prevented my 
 being present. On a mountain I saw for the first time a field 
 of lucerne, a species of grass suitable for cows. A farmer 
 said he raised four crops a yea/r; but I was more surprised, 
 on asking him for a drink of vfhey,to hear him say he never 
 heard of such a thing ! I wondered the more, as he spoke 
 pretty good English. It was lucky I did not try to pronounce 
 the word in Welch, as my jaws might have been dislocated. 
 
36 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 The gentleman who so kindly conducted me to Eton Hall 
 increased my debt of gratitude by arranging to accompany 
 me to the enchanting vale of Clwyde the following week; 
 but I was obliged to forego the visit. Near the beautiful 
 vale of Llangollen are the picturesque ruins of Valle Crucis 
 Abbey, clad with ivy, and shaded by ash trees. Near this 
 is the site of the famous Owen Glendower's castle. 
 
 From Snowden's peak may be seen twenty-six lakes and 
 two seas, the Wicklow mountains in Ireland, the Isle of 
 Man a hundred miles north in the Irish Sea, Cumberland, 
 Lancashire, Shropshire, part of Scotland, all North Wales, 
 and Anglesey ! The mist covering the head of this monster 
 is called the night-cap. Near the bottom of Snowden once 
 lived the great Llewellyn. 
 
 In 916 the Ostmen of Dublin wasted Anglesey with fire 
 and sword. There are many Druidical remains. Holyhead 
 derives its name from having been the chief seat of the 
 Druids. St. Kibius, to whom a church on a rock near the 
 sea was dedicated, appears to have been the patronymic 
 saint, called in Welch, Caer Cuby. Holy Island is formed 
 by Holyhead Bay, over which a bridge leads to the town. 
 
 But I must now leave this land of mountains and Druids, 
 goats and bards, with their "white locks streaming in the 
 wind," and hasten on to Ireland. A railway officer advised 
 me not to go to a hotel, and kindly provided a comfortable 
 sleeping-place at the office. 
 
 At midnight I was flying in the railway carriage to Holy- 
 head, the station for the government steam-packets. It was 
 a moonless though starry night; and I saw nothing of the 
 town but its long rows of lamps, as the coach rolled rapidly 
 to the steam-ship, which is nowbuiieting the Irish Channel. 
 To-morrow morning I shall be in the Green Isle ! 
 
CHAPTER V. 
 SSublm— l^mfistoton— €lotitarf. 
 
 " The mountains showed their gray heads ; the blue face of Ocean s ailed ; the 
 "white wave was seen tumbling round the distant rock," 
 
 About daylight our ship approached the Kingstown har- 
 bour, plunging majestically through the foam-flecked waves, 
 the white feathery spray dancing with gay triumph around 
 the ship. It were impossible to tell one's feelings on getting 
 the first sight of a country like Ireland, My pleasure was 
 like that of Columbus, I had discovered a new world — it 
 was nothing to me that millions had seen it before. There 
 is the isle, "in sight like unto an emerald," That beautiful 
 image, "the Emerald Isle," does not disappoint me. There 
 are the verdant hills swelling far away, till veiled in the 
 light blue drapery of the heavens. The beautifully white 
 mansions of Kingstown stretch along the shore, and glitter 
 in the rising sun. Yonder is the Dublin Bay, sister to the 
 Bay of Naples, with the bending bosom of a queen of the 
 waves, girt with a mantle of hills. Those are the Dublin 
 mountains ; farther to the right are the Wicklow mountains, 
 rising in blue majesty "above all hills," Romantic rocks, 
 castles in ruins, magnificent villas, plantations, and luxu- 
 riant parks, are spread along the hills in splendid panorama. 
 T viewed this rich picture with a thrill of perfect rapture, 
 and felt that a few bursts of surprise were quite in order. 
 Well said ! Ireland is indeed the Green Isle ! Whoever 
 can look on such a landscape with the staid visage of an 
 Indian, is fit for his savage society. 
 
 Kingstown, a populous and favourite watering-place, is 
 only seven miles below Dublin, where the railway dropped 
 me in twenty minutes. Among other letters, I had one from 
 4 
 
38 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 my friend Mr. R. Flanagan, of WilliamsTDurgh, New- York, 
 to Charles Gaussen, Esq. a highly respectable and influential 
 solicitor of Dublin, and a pious member of the Established 
 Church. The loss of my keys in Wales was extremely 
 vexatious and embarrassing, novv^ that I was in such a place 
 as Dublin. What a dilemma ! But there was no time for 
 deliberation. I thought of the warm-hearted hospitality 
 of the Irish, and boldly resolved to go directly to Mr. G.'s 
 house, and introduce myself. An Irish jaunting-car set me 
 down at his house in Gardiner's Place, Mountjoy Square, 
 where I left my luggage v/ith a servant, till the family were 
 up. In an hour I returned from a stroll about the city, and 
 my explanations were received with such respectful Chris- 
 tian courtesy, as drew from me a tear. Yes — I own I was 
 not less affected than surprised at this warm v/elcome. 
 Nothing could exceed the generous sympathy of the whole 
 family, in anticipating every little comfort. In five minutes 
 I felt as much at home as if intimate as many yea,rs. As 
 soon as a smith had operated on my trunk locks, a speedy 
 transformation took place in my wardrobe — a change which 
 v/ould perhaps have procured me a seat in one of the stalls 
 in the Bangor cathedral ! If anything on earth could make 
 me happy in a foreign land, it would be a residence in such 
 a family. A daily drive in the family jaunting-car was a 
 novelty. Of these there are two kinds. The outside car 
 is an open carriage with two small wheels, drawn by one 
 horse in which passengers sit back to back, facing the street. 
 An inside car is just the reverse, and the company sit face 
 to face — the pleasantest mode. These cars are very easy 
 and convenient, and Vfill seat six persons besides the driver. 
 An outside car in Broadvv'ay would be speedily demolished. 
 The Irish jaunting-car is said to resemble the Russian car- 
 riage called the droshka. 
 
 A day or two after my arrival, Mr. G. met the Rev. Alex- 
 ander King in the street, and informed him I had a letter of 
 
IRISH HOSPITALITY. 39 
 
 introduction to him from Rev. Dr. C of Brooklyn; "but 
 
 before I had time to call on him, he called on me. On 
 expressing obligations for this unexpected courtesy, he said, 
 with great enthusiasm, "I shall never forget the kindness I 
 received v/hen I was in America, and the very sight of an 
 American makes me stand right up !" I acknowledge this 
 compliment to my countrymen from an Irish Christian gen- 
 tleman. Here was true Irish character — full-hearted, warm, 
 generous, impulsive — and, let me say, politeness, too ; which 
 is an infinite remove from the frigid stiffness of hollow- 
 hearted fashionable etiquette. Next day he would call 
 with his carriage and take a drive with me around the 
 city and country; but after waiting half an hour, and con- 
 cluding he would not come, I visited some institutions ; and 
 was greatly surprised and pleased, on coming out of the 
 Queen's Inns, to meet him in search of me. How he found 
 me was more than I could divine. So I took a seat in the 
 carriage and went with him to dinner at his beautiful estate 
 about three miles out of Dublin. He presented me with a 
 token of his friendship, and I parted with this true gentle- 
 man and his am.iable lady with more regret than the reader 
 can im-agine. 
 
 Dublin bears some little resemblance to Philadelphia, the 
 dwellings being brick, and quite uniform and plain. To an 
 American's eye they have a dingy look, from their antiquity 
 and prevailing smoke; yet everything looked neat. Very 
 few spires are to be seen. St. George's has a fine one, with 
 a good chime of bells. St. Patrick's Cathedral is a vener- 
 able Gothic pile with a pointed spire. Christ Church cathe- 
 dral is over eight hundred years old. It would be strange 
 indeed if there were not several convents and nunneries. On 
 inquiring the name of a tasteful Gothic church, one said it 
 Vy-as a Catholic, another a Presbyterian, the next a Protestant 
 church, the fourth knew nothing about it, and fifth and 
 lastly, I received the astounding information that it was a 
 
40 FIRST VISIT TO EUROiE. 
 
 church ! and I concluded I could not do better than believe 
 him. In Sackville street, the pride of the city, is Nelson's 
 Pillar, in splendid Doric. Near this is the General Post- 
 Ofhce and the Bank of Ireland. There are seven or eight 
 neat stone bridges over the Liffey, a small stream half the 
 width of the Seine at Paris, which runs through the city. 
 Many handsome squares were pointed out in my daily drives. 
 St. Stephen's Green is a wilderness of beauty. 
 
 One of the most exhilarating drives in the world is 
 through the environs of Dublin by the Circular Road. I 
 shall not soon forget a ride to Clontarf, where Mr. G. has a 
 country seat. A granite wall rims all along the banks of 
 the blue soLind ; and the fine open road offers exquisitely 
 beautiful and varied scenery. Along the Clontarf road by 
 the strand you have most lovely and picturesque views. 
 Across the bay are the Wicklow Mountains, bearing some 
 resemblance to our Green Mountains, their deep blue colour 
 impressing the soul with sublime thought. Immortal beauty 
 invests those hills ! It is just as impossible to forget how 
 they look, as not to think of them with delight. Far away 
 to the right are the Dublin Mountains and the glittering 
 villas of Kingstown. Many splendid suburban seats are 
 strewed along the left near the bay. Its soft-blue bosom 
 is lulled in a beautiful sleep. Lord Charlemont's castle 
 especially arrested my attention; a modern structure, with 
 tower aiid battlement, arch and pinnacle, in castellated 
 style, all embosomed in luxuriant green trees. 
 
 Clontarf is a brilliant spot in Irish history. While I 
 stood gazing at the surrounding novelties in wondering for- 
 getfulness, Mr. G. called to me — "Where we now stand, 
 Brian Boru once lived. The Danes made frequent incur- 
 sions into Ireland ; and on one of those occasions Brian Boru 
 defeated them in a pitched battle." Immediately, other 
 thoughts possessed me — Ireland, as it was of old. Whoever 
 has stood on Bunker Hill, or the field of Waterloo, and let 
 
BRIAN BORU, KING OF IRELAND. 41 
 
 imagination have full play, can sympathize with emotions 
 that may not he descrihed. Fewlnore deeply thrilling asso- 
 ciations are evoked than those on a hattle-field. This was 
 the Marathon of Irish history. It was here, in this very open 
 plain, in 1014, that the good old king rallied his desponding 
 countrymen, and like another father of his country, acineved 
 one of the most glorious victories in Irish history ; thus rid- 
 ding his country of an amhitious foreign invader, though he 
 himself fell on this hloody hattle-field. 
 
 Having often desired to see a yew tree, we drove through 
 the gateway of a heautiful estate. The porter at first refused 
 admission, hut was told " an American gentleman w^ished 
 just to see that yew." I had heen told the yew was only a 
 small hush. Every tree was once a hush. A small hush, 
 indeed ! Here was a huge tree, goodly to hehold, the growth 
 of centuries, its trunk ahout three feet thick and some forty 
 feet high, with hranciies spreading to as great a width, and 
 forming a complete pyramid of luxuriant green. This remark- 
 able tree is an object of much interest to all travellers — to 
 none more than myself. 
 
 One day Mrs. M , a wealthy Quaker lady of Wicklow, 
 
 called, and I was introduced as an American. On learning 
 that I wished to see the famous Phoenix Park, Mrs. M. 
 immediately proposed I should jump into her car standing 
 at the door. We all went. This Park contains eighteen 
 hundred acres, and is seven miles round ! For fine prospects 
 and beautiful diversity, the Dublin people pronounce it the 
 most magnificent city or suburban park in Great Britain, 
 and not inferior to the Vienna Prater. Its wide plains were 
 thronged with large herds of young deer, grazing over the 
 almost interminable lawns. This, to an American, is a 
 delightful novelty, though quite an every-day, commonplace 
 affair in many parts of Europe. Nor was I less amazed at 
 the sight of numerous groups of immense hawthorn, all in 
 
 4"^ 
 
42 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 have taken these large trees with outspreadiig branches for 
 peach or apple orchards ; but alas ! Ireland bears few apples 
 and no peaches. A little envy is not always a sin: at any 
 rate, after so goodly a sight as these immense red-flowering 
 hawthorns, T took a malicious delight in talking about our 
 immense orchards bending with the weight of big, delicious. 
 crimson-cheek peaches — yes, brought to our very door for a 
 shilling a bushel, and far better than I had in Edinburgh 
 for an English sixpence a-piece ! They seemed to hear all 
 this with wonder. But let us discuss peaches in their season. 
 These hawthorns — it is strange they are almost unknown 
 in our country. 
 
 A splendid quadrangular obelisk, like Cleopatra's Needle, 
 called the Wellington Testimonial, more than two hundred 
 feet high, stands alone in the plain. On this obelisk all the 
 victories of the Duke of Wellington are inscribed; but a 
 space is left for an inscription after the Duke's death. But 
 will this wide space be enough ? At the junction of four 
 wide avenues is the Phoenix Pillar, a Corinthian column, 
 erected by the Earl of Chesterfield in 1745. We got out of 
 the carriage, and entered the Hibernian Soldiers' School. 
 Three hundred boys of twelve years, in red coats, perform- 
 ing their military evolutions with steam-engine precision, 
 was a novelty worth seeing. This school is for the sons of 
 deceased soldiers. There are many such institutions in 
 Dublin. On the way, one was pointed out where all persons 
 in distress may apply for work; a much better mode than 
 encouraging the business of sturdy, veteran beggary, which 
 in our country has become a thriving nuisance. 
 
 Our return was along the wild sylvan banks of the Liffey, 
 a less frequented road skirting the park. Descending a hill, 
 we entered a most beautiful valley, and espied the, romantic 
 river, sliding betvfeen steep banks, fringed with overhanging 
 wildwood; now fretting and roaring along in milky foam 
 over rough rocky ledges, or winding between dells and high 
 
PHCENIX PARK— VALE OF AYOCA. 43 
 
 slopes adorned with wild groves ] then rushing under some 
 rustic old bridge, it murmured joyfully on its way to the 
 ocean. This picturesque scenery reminded me of the falls 
 of Schuylkill near Philadelphia. 
 
 Y/hile engaged in social converse, Mrs. M. recited many 
 illustrative passages from her favourite countryman, Gold- 
 smith, and was much pleased to hear me anticipate the 
 alternate line, thus keeping up an amusing poetical dialogue. 
 The reader may laugh — we did the same ourselves ! On 
 entering the city I had a fine view of the Four Courts Mar- 
 shalsea, the high coLirts of Dublin. Among the confusion 
 of attractive and beautiful objects, it would be altogether 
 impossible to give other than such birdseye views as flying 
 visits afford. 
 
 The kind lady just referred to invited me to remain a 
 week at her residence in Wicklow, a few miles from Dublin, 
 near the vale of Avoca, that enchanted and enchanting spot • 
 and nothing but the sternest necessity could have prevented 
 the acceptance of so polite an offer. 
 
 Sweet vale of Avoca ! how calm could I rest 
 
 In thy hosom of shade, with the friends I love test ; 
 
 Where the storms that we meet in this cold world should cease, 
 
 And our hearts, like thy waters, be mingled in peace. 
 
 Let us linger and dream awhile under the same green tree 
 where Moore viewed the meeting of the waters, and caught 
 its lovely images while inditing that immortal melody. 
 
 There is not in the wide world a valley so sweet 
 As that vale in whose bosom the wide waters meet : 
 O the last rays of feeling and life must depart, 
 Ere the bloom of that valley shall fade from my heart. 
 
 Everybody has heard of the lark; and though but one in 
 ten thousand has heard his chirping song, I am one Vv^ho have. 
 No wonder the poets have engaged him to do the best parts 
 of their minstrelsy. His song at daybreak, joyously poured 
 out of his full heart, to me was more reviving than words can 
 tell. " The cheerful man hears the lark in the morning :" 
 
44 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 and I needed not the song of " night's solemn hird" to repress 
 exuberant gayety. My heart was too often pensive, and 
 home was far away. 
 
 The Bank of Ireland was once the Irish Parliament House. 
 This beautiful structure is nearly in semicircular form. The 
 principal front has a noble colonnade of Ionic pillars ; and 
 the front on College street has a fine portico of Corinthian 
 columns. On a clear moonlight night the effect is grand. 
 The large old- tapestry pictures in needlework, representing 
 the siege of Londonderry and the battle of the Boyne, exe- 
 cuted and presented by French ladies, are curious specimens 
 of the skill and taste of those times. 
 
 My friends obtained an order for me to visit Lord Charle- 
 mont's ancient mansion, where I saw a large collection of 
 statuary and paintings of old masters, interesting chiefly 
 as the shadows of ancient days. Here were the blackish 
 busts of Roman emperors, taken from the ruins of Pompeii — 
 Julius Csesar, Augustus, Nero, Caligula, Vespasian, Agrippa, 
 Maximus, Antoninus, Aurelius, and a hundred other great 
 ones. These are the renowned ghosts of antiquity, standing 
 before. me with countenances of dark and silent awfulness, 
 like a congress of mighty " rulers of the darkness of this 
 world." Many centuries are as one living age ! 
 
 " The melancholy ghosts of dread renown 
 "All point to earth and hiss at human pride !" 
 
 Among a thousand and one curious things was a sword, 
 dug up half decayed by rust, used by the Danes in Ireland. 
 A gentleman said that a pair of antlers some twelve feet 
 from tip to tip, doubtless were once the property of a huge 
 animal belonging to a race that existed two hundred thousand 
 years before the creation of the world ! "But does not that 
 hypothesis clash a little with the Mosaic?" said I. " By no 
 means, Sir." "Well," I said, "that is an easy way of 
 getting along : it is a first rate theor y • for it cannot be re- 
 futed !" But on such geological speculations I mean to be 
 
TRINITY COLLEGE. 45 
 
 non-committal. Two hundred thousand years back decidedly 
 borders on the dark ages. We will leave "the cosmogony of 
 the creation" to Mr. Jenkinson. 
 
 Trinity College, §0 famous the world over, is an imposing 
 edifice in the Corinthian order, one of the finest collegiate 
 quadrangles in the world. The interior is equally interesting. 
 Behold those twenty joints of meat roasting before the huge 
 Vulcan machinery in the kitchen ! One might think dinner 
 were cooking for another congress of kings ! The fragrance 
 thereof is provoking. Let us therefore quickly enter the 
 examination hall, or theatre, where at least we shall enjoy 
 an intellectual feast with great men, or see as we pass along, 
 the lively shadows of Bishop Berkeley, Dean Swift, Queen 
 Elizabeth, and Archbishop Usher. A beautifully wrought 
 statue in the finest marble cost the library £20,000 ! In the 
 chapel is a splendid organ with glossy black pipes, taken from 
 the Spanish Armada. An Irish harp in the college museum 
 is perhaps the oldest in the world. Its music might have 
 been such as to "create a soul under the ribs of death ;'^ but 
 whether from its power of harmony or jargon, is a little 
 doubtful. The mummy of an Egyptian king and his wooden 
 coffin, who lived three hundred years before Christ, arrested 
 my curiosity; but much more the real hand of Cleopatra! 
 To see the shapely proportions of that jet black, delicate 
 little hand with fine-tapering fingers, was enough. It was 
 her right hand, and the tip of the fore finger was broken 
 off. The pleasing certainty that it was her hand did not 
 prevent me from asking a lady, if there was anything apo- 
 cryphal about it. She replied, " The historical evidence is 
 very satisfactory." There — I know it now! — assurance is 
 doubly sure ! You may smile, but do you know it is not the 
 same hand? After this it seems absurd to notice a twenty- 
 six pound ball fired in the battle of the Boyne between 
 James II. and William III.; and a huge lump of petrified 
 batter found in an Irish bog, so late in the day as 1848 ! 
 
45 FIRST VISIT TO EUS.OPE. 
 
 The quays are very beautiful. On asking a stranger the 
 way to the custom-house, a very superb edifice, thou.gh some- 
 what familiar with Irish brogue, it was not till I had given 
 an Irish accent to the vov/els, that J puzzled out that 
 "Aden Key" meant Eden Quay ! 
 
 An introduction from the Rev. Dr. S , of Brooklyn, to 
 
 the Rev. John Greg, of Trinity Church, Dublin, was induce- 
 ment enough to accompany Mr. G.'s family to church. The 
 morning service begins at the late hour of twelve, and the 
 sermon was on being in Christ. Although my expectations 
 had been raised, I was seized with amazement at his flood of 
 eloquence — deep, clear, and terse; with those characteristics 
 of Irish oratory — nervous enthusiasm and impassioned per- 
 suasiveness : sometimes like a broad stream just before it 
 reaches the "shelving brink," slow and placid; the next 
 moment thundering rapidly down the mountain, and shaking 
 the whole country around. "That little word in !" every 
 time he turned it round, shot a stream of brilliance over 
 the surrounding darkness. He is a thoroughly original and 
 natural preacher : his whole soul is on fire with burning 
 zeal; and I "remembered that it was written, -the zeal of 
 thine house hath eaten me up.' " Though he had no studied 
 rules — good in their place — it would be difficult to imagine 
 anything more chaste and beautiful. In the evening I went 
 again, instead of gratifying an innocent curiosity to visit 
 some other attractive churches. 
 
 The next morning I was deeply affected on bidding fare- 
 well to this excellent family; and in reply to thanks for 
 their hospitality, Mr. G. kindly replied, " We are glad to 
 have the opportunity;" handing me letters of introduction 
 to their friends in Belfast. "Long may such goodness 
 live !" 
 
CHAPTER VI. 
 S:i)e aSo^ne— Castle S^laneo— ^rmas^—SSclfast. 
 
 'Tis yours to judge how wide the limits stand. 
 Between a splendid and an happy land. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 The reader's company would be pleasant on the way to 
 Belfast, through the north-eastern part of Ireland. The 
 railway leaves the palace-like station, Talbot street, at. ten, 
 for Drogheda. The train rumbles over the Royal Canal 
 iron bridge, beautifully and firmly constructed on American 
 principles. I should be glad to see many more things in this 
 country on American principles. But ah! the prosperity 
 of Ireland seems to be sadly on the decline. An Irish gen- 
 tleman remarked to me, "Our country is going down, and 
 yours is going up." "I hope both are destined to rise," I 
 replied. Cart-loads of books have been written about the 
 causes of poor old Ireland's misery and degradation. "Why 
 should any more fuel (and much of this great pile is good 
 for nothing else) be added to increase the blaze of strife? 
 No one can remain a week in Ireland without forming some 
 opinion. One hour in Ireland is vfortli more than years of 
 noisy talk. In my progress through the country, thoughts 
 like these would rise : V7hy ail this difference between Ire- 
 land and England ? Are not the hills of Ireland as green 
 and fertile as England ? Is not Ireland the green Isle ? What 
 makes prosperou.s towns in some parts, and m^ud huts with 
 denuded inmates in others? Has the dilFusion of knowledge 
 anything to do vfith the resemblance of Scotland and Nevv- 
 England? Is the animosity betvreen Ireland and England 
 fiercer than it formerly was between England and Scotland, 
 now united in one destiny ? These questions need no partisan 
 
48 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 answers : they almost answer themselves ; and indicate some 
 deep-rooted disease — a worm at the root. When that worm 
 IS dug np, the tree may revive, and even flourish. "0," 
 says one, and another, and another, "every one knows all 
 this !" Very likely • but a knowledge of the cure is quite 
 another thing. Every quack may know as much in medicine : 
 but it takes a man of science to administer the cure. This 
 disease is strangely overlooked by those who pretend to 
 reason from cause to effect. The remedy is at the bottom of 
 the well — hard to reach. Poor Ireland has been doctored 
 almost to death, and then turned out to die like an old worn- 
 out-horse, whose labour has fattened his master. Poor Pat 
 has committed many grievous sins; but one can hardly 
 believe they will all be visited on him alone. Naturally 
 honest, confiding, and easily led, he has too, often been the 
 dupe of mere demagogues, who had their ends to serve by 
 fleecing him for his special good; and repudiating the culture 
 of the soil by their advice^" what must follow but beggary 
 and starvation ? Who is to be scape-goat is not for me to say. 
 Somewhere will fall a heavy vengeance. 
 
 But as sure as I live, here we are in Drogheda in an hour 
 and a quarter ! We must get out here and pass the Boyne 
 waters by coach, from the windows of which I view the 
 field where the famous battle of the Boyne was fought in 
 1690 between James II. and William III. This battle, with 
 a loss on both sides of 2000 men, decided the fate of James. 
 The field has undergone some changes. It looks like any 
 other field, covered with the grass of summer; yet I could 
 imagine the " confused noise and garments rolled in blood," 
 and the awful clangour of battle. But look at that group 
 of half-starved, hatless tatterdemalions, with no covering 
 but a few ancient rags dangling from the knees and elbows ! 
 Was ever such a picture of wretchedness seen in my native 
 land? They shout incessantly, " 'ape'ny ! 'ape'ny !" A few 
 half-pence are thrown from the coach-top and windows^ 
 
DESCRIPTION BEGGARED. 49 
 
 ^* but what arc they among so many ?" Besides, it aggra- 
 vates the misery of the wretched sufferers -who get none 
 in the desperate scramble. Ah ! why was I born in a land 
 that floweth with milk and honey, while these fellow-beings 
 almost "perish with hunger?" Our coach rolls over the 
 bridge that crosses the Boyne : they follow imploringly ; but 
 their voices are drowned by the rattling of wheels. In the 
 brief interval of taking seats in the railway, their deafening 
 shouts are renewed with despairing energy. They run after 
 the train, but alas ! the modern railroad improvements have 
 not improved their condition — ^they are distanced ! Poor 
 fellows ! Their voices are annihilated ; we hear and see 
 them no more ! Look at those princely castles on the hills ! 
 All around are luxury and refinement; and amid all this 
 overgrown wealth, gross ignorance and gaunt beggary, in 
 mud huts ! Overcome by this heart-rending scene, I was 
 for some time unable to enjoy some of the richest scenery in 
 this lower world — the very prototype of green Eden. It 
 seems as if some parts of this country had escaped the 
 primeval curse; but the poverty of the working classes tells 
 a true tale of the first and last curse. Dunleer, Dundalk, 
 and many smaller towns, sweep by us with American rail- 
 road velocity. At Inneskeen, I saw them cutting bogs with 
 a slane or spade, about four inches broad, with a steel blade 
 the same width, at right angles with the edge of the spade. 
 The turf is cut in the shape of bricks, and stacked in pyra- 
 mids so as to admit the air through the interstices. Turf 
 is a capital substitute for coal. Large tracts of bog land 
 have been reclaimed and made the best of arable land. 
 
 From Castle Blaney to Armagh it is fourteen miles by 
 coach. During the half hour in getting ready for a start, 
 another scene in the Beggars' Opera came off with some 
 variations — a heart-sickening, tragical sight. A number of 
 poor squalid creatures followed the coach full two miles, 
 ■with yelling cries for a pitiful brass farthing or two, over 
 5 
 
5Q FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 which they luxuriated with mad joy, like some California 
 gold-seeker, when he finds a whole mountain of the precious 
 yellow dust. Their cries were very annoying; but they had 
 the worst of it. Our way to Belfast was through the coun- 
 ties of Dublin, Westmeath, Louth, and Down ; and in beauty 
 often surpassed the vivid pictures imagination had drawn. 
 Never was fitter name than the Green Isle ; although this 
 country, like England, is rather bare of trees. My eye rested 
 on the hills and valleys of lively green with unceasing 
 delight ; and as the landscape glided from my view, the 
 thought that I should never see those beautiful scenes again 
 was painful. 
 
 Armagh lies on gracefully swelling hills. At a distance 
 of ten miles, I could see its celebrated cathedral on a com- 
 manding height covered with luxuriant green, forming a 
 beautifully picturesque landscape. On a neighbouring hill 
 another splendid cathedral was erecting. From Armagh to 
 Belfast is an excellent railway, equal to any in England. 
 Along this part of the route the scenery is charming, the 
 prospect being very extensive. Leftward, twenty-five miles 
 ofi", is a splendid sheet of water, twenty-five miles'long and 
 half that width, and from its azure tint, might be mistaken 
 for a strip of sky. On the right are the highest mountains 
 in Ireland, stretching from Dundrum Bay to Belfast. At 
 Lisburn and other places millions of yards of linen spread 
 over the green lawns for miles, gave the country the appear- 
 ance of winter. At six in the evening I reached Belfast, 
 surprised at its beauty, extensive trade, increasing prosperity, 
 and the comparative cheapness of many commodities, lower 
 than I found them in England or Ireland. Here I was kindly 
 welcomed by Mr. Gaussen, to whom I was introduced from 
 Dublin. The city lies in a broad valley, the Belfast moun- 
 tains rising in sombre grandeur around ) 
 
 "And where this valley winded out below, 
 The murmuring main was heard, and scarcely leard to flow." 
 
QUEExN^S COLLEGE- 51 
 
 An American introduction to the Rev. Dr. Edgar was 
 very fortunate. That gentleman showed me many of the 
 principal lions of curiosity in Belfast. At the very heautiful 
 Botanic Garden I saw the mistletoe growing from the trunk 
 of a species of apple tree. It also grows on the oak. The 
 mistletoe thrush is supposed to drop the seed into the bark, 
 where it vegetates. '-You must seethe Giant's Causeway 
 by all means," said Dr. E. I told him with regret that my 
 plans would not possibly permit a visit there, it being some 
 eighty miles distant. He then seized a huge stone and broke 
 off a piece from some curious specimens of the Causeway in 
 the Botanic Garden, Vv'hich I preserved among my curiosities. 
 These stones were about a foot square, the convex fitting the 
 conca,ve. It is difficult to believe these nicely-fitting joints 
 are natural formations; yet such they are. We then visited 
 the Queen's College, a nevv' and very magnificent pile, bear- 
 ing some resemblance to Eaton Hall, in Cheshire, already 
 described. The beauty and extent of this institution are 
 surprising. In a splendid book was the Queen's autograph, 
 placed there on her recent visit to Belfast. Prince Albert's 
 signature was a mere circumstance alongside of the large, 
 bold and beautiful name Victoria. I was invited to place 
 my own name on the visiter's book. 
 
 My recollection of Ireland will always be delightful. 
 Fancy me now on the deck of the royal steamer Thetis, 
 withoiit a place of repose, the rain drizzling through the 
 open windows above for the whole cheerless night. But the 
 vivacity of Hope cheers me on ; and I shall be well paid for 
 a few unavoidable discomforts if permitted in the morning to 
 get a sight of the next object of my ambition, the hills of 
 Caledonia ! 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 SCJje eistre— 6Jlasfloto— Bumbartoit €astle— STJe ?^ifl|)lanti»— 
 3loc|) SLomonti— 2Locf) matme. 
 
 And here awhile the Muse, 
 High hovering o'er the broad cerulean wave, 
 Sees Caledonia in romantic view : 
 Her airy mountains from the waving main, 
 Invested with a keen, diffusive sky, 
 Breathing the soul acute ; her forests huge, 
 Incult, robust and tall, by Nature's hand 
 Planted of old. Thomson. 
 
 "While twilight lasted I gazed on the receding shores of 
 Ireland with melancholy pleasure. Holywood seemed a fit 
 name for an angelic abode. A passenger pointed to an old 
 castle on the coast, saying it was built before Christ; but 
 an old monkish legend which he related connected with that 
 locality soon faded from my mind ; for my attention was all 
 alive while taking my last look at the shores of Ireland. 
 County Down and Antrim, and Carrickfergus, lovely to 
 behold, were soon lost in the dim distance. Farewell Ireland ! 
 The glorious beauty of thy fat valleys cannot be greener 
 than the memory of thy brotherly kindness ! 
 
 At midnight I was in the Frith of Clyde, having passed 
 the isles of Arran and Bute, and a number of smaller ones, 
 some of them bald, barren and uninhabited. Neither the 
 cold Scotch mist and drizzling rain, nor severe illness, could 
 keep me in my bed; and for a good reason — I had none! 
 I watched with a fluttering, romantic feeling that cannot be 
 described, for the first glimpse of Scotland. About daylight 
 we passed Greenock, twenty miles below Glasgow. Helens- 
 burg, stretching along the green sloping meads of the Clyde, 
 looked like a strip of Paradise, the white mansions beauti- 
 
THINGS IN SCOTLAND.- 53 
 
 fully contrasting with the deep-green verdure. Along the 
 Clyde is some of the finest table land in the world, sprinkled 
 over with castles and wealthy seats. A few years ago, the 
 Clyde was shallow enough to be waded; but it has been 
 dredged so as to allow ships to pass up to Glasgow, which 
 formerly came no farther than Greenock. Forty years ago, 
 when a vessel of one hundred tons arrived from Liverpool, 
 the whole city of Glasgow turned out to see such a novelty. 
 Now, ships of a thousand tons come up. In this vicinity it is 
 quite narrow and turbid ; but the water being impregnated 
 with iron, is very healthy. In the middle of the river, light- 
 houses are erected a quarter of a mile apart for miles. 
 
 But what strange dream is this? Can it be that I am 
 awake in Scotland — the land of romance and song — of Bruce 
 and Wallace, Thomson and Scott? The peculiar physiog- 
 nomy and enunciation — everything tells me this is no dream, 
 however strange. Although aware that Glasgow was the 
 centre of commerce for all Scotland, I was quite astonished 
 to see such a large and well-built city. The houses make a 
 showy appearance, being built of a light-coloured stone, in 
 a tasteful and ornate style. Among many handsome spires, 
 that of the new Free Church in Argyle street is exceedingly 
 beautiful. This long and splendid street is the Broadway — 
 the Fleet street — of Glasgow. " Let Glasgow flourish." 
 
 Were one's impressions derived from Dr. Johnson, (and 
 mine were in part,) he would suppose Scotland was a poor 
 place indeed, with little better food than oats and barley. 
 Scotland is the " land 0' cakes :" the " soda scone" can hardly 
 be excelled. The butter, as in other parts of Britain, is 
 of the finest flavour, beef and mutton tender and juicy, and 
 as for bread, scarcely anywhere in Europe did I get any that 
 was really good, except in Glasgow and Inversnaid, in the 
 Highlands ! The tough, puffy, tasteless trash called bread, 
 is sad stuff". A very cheap and healthful dish is oatmeal 
 stirabout. In Glasgow, a good substantial breakfast, with 
 5* 
 
54 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 beef or mutton, maybe had for eightpence sterling: in Lon- 
 don the price is much higher. Still, from careful observation, 
 with no special reference to Scotland, I should say the 
 average price of living in the United States is about one 
 half that of Great Britain. How the working classes con- 
 trive to live is beyond my ken. Many of them do not live — 
 they only exist. Notwithstanding the difference of some 
 parts, wherever I went it was my strong conviction that 
 America is the country for the poor man. 
 
 But it is time to look ou.t for some friends. Among a 
 
 number of introductory letters I had one from Rev. Mr. B 
 
 of New- York, to Mr. Godfrey Pattison of Glasgow, who 
 would have been pleased if I could possibly have made his 
 residence at Helensburg my home while staying at Glasgow. 
 Another from Mr. George Wilkie of New- York to his brother 
 Mr. Edward Wilkie, rendered my visit to Glasgow truly 
 delightful. The hospitality of that gentleman to an Ameri- 
 can stranger is another bright spot to which memory turns 
 with especial pleasure. The very remarkable manner in 
 which a kind Providence strewed my way with flowers while 
 passing tearfully along life's rugged road, seems like a dream, 
 and fills me with surprise. There was an air of romance, 
 with an occasional sprinkle of wild adventure, that made 
 many of my journeyings in Europe stranger than fiction. 
 When shall I see such days again ! 
 
 My new friend, who went with me in my ramblings, 
 pointed out the old Tron Church, in Argyle street, which so 
 often resounded with the eloquence of Chalmers. We visited 
 the great cathedral a thousand years old, standing in gloomy 
 solitude and antique magnificence. Its outside walls, and 
 the inside of those around the spacious churchyard, were 
 covered with ancient tombs of costly workmanship, crumb- 
 ling to decay. Old Mortality might chisel away for ever at 
 these blind records of departed glory, without discovering 
 many of the names defaced by the storms of ten centuries. 
 
TRIP TO THE HIGHLANDS. 55 
 
 The whole ground was covered with monumental stones 
 of a dark colour, which gave this populous city of the dead 
 a very melancholy and awful appearance. A "hridge of 
 sighs" bestrides the valley to the modern Necropolis on the 
 sylvan slope over against the cathedral. Among numerous 
 white obelisks stands one surmounted with a statue of John 
 Knox the Reformer. Death is robbed of half his sting by 
 sights like these. 
 
 On leaving Dublin a beautiful copy of the Lady of the 
 Lake was presented to me by an accomplished lady, with a 
 charge to visit the Highlands. Scott has invested these 
 magic lakes and wild mountain fastnesses, once the haunts 
 of Rob Roy MacGregor, and the ancient Scottish clans, with 
 all the beautiful drapery of poetry. If any one required 
 persuasion to visit classic scenes so full of romantic lore, it 
 was not me. Early in the morning of a lovely day in June, 
 I left Glasgow by the steamboat for Dumbarton to the sound 
 of the bagpipe. The banks of the Clj^de were adorned with 
 churches, towers, villas and castellated seats of noblemen — 
 Lord Blantyre's castle, the smooth and green acclivities of 
 Dumbuck, the parish church of Gaven, and a hundred fine 
 sights. The Clyde divides Renfrewshire and Dumbartonshire. 
 Far oif to the right were the blue Campsie Hills. Green 
 velvet lawns and groves of Scotch fir and ash. made another 
 Elysium of luxury. Even those familiar with these lovely 
 scenes showed enthusiasm, which a stranger must feel in 
 a higher degree. Among the crowd of objects, how can all 
 be noticed? "What is that handsome stone monument?" 
 " That is a monument to Henry Bell, the inventor of steam- 
 boats !" "Oho! that will be news to us Americans: we 
 shall be dovrn upon you for setting up that claim. Robert 
 Fulton — " The gentleman did not wait for me to finish, 
 but added, "I believe it was Fulton!" Near Bowling, he 
 showed me the termination of the old Roman wall, where 
 stood an old fort. Many improvements are in progress — 
 
5g FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the Forth and Clyde Canal at Bowling, ten miles from 
 Glasgow, a railway from Bowling to Loch Lomond, and 
 others. Dumharton, now in sight, is quite a place of activity, 
 especially in shipbuilding. Opposite is Port Glasgow. 
 
 There is something worth seeing ! That rock towering 
 darkly over the Clyde, is the renowned Dumbarton Castle, 
 and is like a bishop's mitre, from its contour and difficulty of 
 reach. The steamboat passed close alongside, giving me an 
 opportunity to survey this remarkable rock. From its steep- 
 ness one would think it might stand a long siege ; yet it is 
 not large enough to hold a very numerous garrison. This was 
 one of the strongholds of the Britons. Who has not read 
 how Wallace and his indomitable band so gallantly with- 
 stood the forces of Edward L? In the castle is kept the 
 original sword of Wallace, five feet long, exclusive of nine 
 inches broken off! A Scotch soldier told me it required his 
 main strength with both hands to wield it over his shoulder. 
 Tradition says Bruce was as big as two common men, and 
 Wallace was as big as two Bruces ! This sounds very much 
 like tradition ; still we can easily believe " there were giants 
 in those days," with due allowance for Scotch mist, through 
 which objects look large. 
 
 From Dumbarton to Loch Lomond it is six miles. Like 
 all the British roads, this is as smooth and hard as M' Adam's 
 best. An outside seat afforded a fine view of the glorious 
 scenery ; and I caught an occasional glimpse of Ben Lomond, 
 towering ]ike a pyramid 4000 feet into the clouds ! At Bal- 
 loch is a chain bridge, where the crystal Loch Leven min- 
 gles with Loch Lomond. Here the steamboat Water- Witch 
 took possession of us ; and pushing off with poles out of shoal 
 "water, in a few minutes we were on Loch Lomond ! It is 
 so clear that the bottom can be seen to a great depth. I was 
 launched into a new world of supernatural beauty ! Some- 
 times emotions that cannot be described may be imagined ; 
 but not so with mine. The enthusiasm of the whole party 
 
LOCH LOMOND SCENERY. 57 
 
 ■was up while gazing at the different points of sublimity and 
 beauty. Along the lake are many splendid seats and modern 
 castles. Yonder is Buturich Castle in ruins; and near 
 the site of the ancient Balloch Castle, once the stronghold 
 of the powerful Lennox family, stands a modern castle on 
 the sloping margin of the lake. At Lennox Castle, the 
 ancient seat of the Earls of Lennox, resided Isabel, Duchess 
 of Albany, after the death of her husband the Duke of 
 Albany, and her two sons and father, who were executed 
 after the restoration of James I. in 1424. Here 1 saw Smol- 
 lett's Castle, not less refreshing to sight than the memory of 
 the world-renowned Tobias Smollett. Loch Lomond, '-the 
 pride of Scottish lakes," contains about thirty islands, large 
 and small. Inch Murrin, the largest, is beautifully wooded, 
 and is used as a deer-park by the Duke of Montrose. From 
 the little island called Clar-Inch, the Buchanan clan took 
 their slogan or war-cry. Inch Cailliach, the Isle of Women, 
 was the site of an ancient numiery. Inch Lonaig is another 
 deer-park. Near Inch Tavagnah are the mouldering ruin? 
 of Galbraith Castle. Many of the isles seemed like celestial 
 bowers forsaken by the occupants. Loch Lomond, "the lake 
 full of islands," is twenty-five miles long, its greatest width 
 five, from which it dwindles to a narrow, prolonged strip 
 At its greatest depth of a hundred fathoms, it never freezes. 
 Let Scott in Ptob Roy describe — "This noble lake, boasting 
 innumerable beautiful islands of every varying form and 
 outline which fancy can frame, its northern extremity nar- 
 rowing until it is lost among dusky and retreating mountains, 
 while, gradually widening as it extends to the southward, it 
 spreads its base around the indentures and promontories of a 
 fair and fertile land, affords one of the most surprising, beau- 
 tiful and sublime spectacles in nature." From the top of the 
 distant hills you can see Loch Lomond like a mirror framed 
 in mountains ; while every cloud and rugged mountain peak 
 frowning above the margin, is reflected on its glassy bosom. 
 
58 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 The steamboat runs the whole length of Loch Lomond ; 
 but left a small party at Inversnaid. We paid a tribute of 
 threepence to the lord of the soil, His Grace the Duke of 
 Montrose, for the privilege of stepping upon his grounds. 
 The price demanded for conveyance over the mountains to 
 Loch Katrine was six shillings — a dollar and a half. They 
 told us the distance was seven miles, and the road very hilly 
 and rugged. " Then I will use my own private carriage !" 
 said L "But you will be too late for the boat," replied the 
 passengers. This I feared . But it was a rule with me not 
 to submit to extortion when I could help it ; and I chose to 
 walk for other reasons, when I could bear fatigue ; and to be 
 candid, my sovereigns were rapidly thinning off. When I had 
 reached the top of the hill half a mile long, and of weary 
 ascent, I walked on briskly over the mountain a couple of 
 miles. Here the carriage overtook me, but passed swiftly by. 
 A little discouraged, and very faint, I stopped at a Highland 
 cottage near the roadside, as much to see something of 
 Highland life as to get a little refreshment. The romantic 
 novelty of my lonely situation buoyed up my sinking spirit 
 to a pitch of delight. Ah ! I cannot trust myself to spread 
 out those speechless thoughts ! The simple-hearted inmates 
 of this humble straw-thatched cottage could not understand 
 my object for some time. All I could get was " dinna ken." 
 Finally, pointing to a cheese on the shelf, the gude wife 
 smiled and cut me a piece, and also gave me some oatmeal 
 cake. When I pointed to a churn of buttermilk, she gave 
 me what I wanted, and offered me some whey, declining any 
 pay whatever ; and I gave a trifle to her child. I was deeply 
 affected by her free-heartedness, and inwardly prayed that 
 the good God would send her something better than I had to 
 give. Since that time, I have often thought of the strong 
 contrast between many a proud and stingy soul entitled 
 "His Grace," and 
 
 " The short but simple annals of the poor." 
 
SAIL ON LOCH KATRINE. 59 
 
 An intelligent "Highland laddie" of fourteen, on a visit 
 to his parents somewhere on the mountains, had been my 
 company, but to my regret, left me here ; and I sat down by 
 the rugged wayside, gazing upon the wild, jagged mountains 
 of Dumbartonshire, S terlingshire and Perthshire, rising all 
 around me in gloomy majesty, with Ben Lomond 4000 feet 
 high ! Not a tree or hardly a bush could be seen for many 
 miles ] and little grass but heather, or any other green thing 
 except Scotch furze, which keeps close to the ground, and 
 bears very pretty bright yellow flowers. The storms of ages 
 had worn numerous deep ravines in the barren mountain 
 sides ] and during the rains, the milk-white torrents rushed 
 into the lake below with a dreadful roar. Here I am in the 
 Highlands of Scotland, exploring Rob Roy's mountains all 
 alone ! the thought is sublime ! On inquiring of the 
 only person I met how far it was to Loch Katrine — "Only 
 about a mile," said he, to my agreeable surprise: and that 
 mile was performed with Gilpin-like speed, for the steam- 
 boat was in sight, and the next moment the azure waters of 
 Loch Katrine burst on my delighted view. You w;ould have 
 laughed as much to see me run down the mountain, as I did 
 at the gentlemen who said I would be too late for the boat, 
 1 had a good laugh at them. We all laughed — and it did us 
 good. They were gentlemen from the continent travelling 
 for pleasure, and money appeared to be no object with them. 
 
 Our fairy steamboat Rob Roy, only about forty feet long 
 and ten wide, wafted us slowly through the whole serpentine 
 length of Loch Katrine, some ten miles. The ancient renown 
 of Scotland, the magic loveliness of the lake scenery itself, 
 and the great enchanter who gave the Lady of the Lake 
 and the region she inhabited almost celestial beauty, all 
 created a thrill of pleasure such as I would exchange for few 
 earthly delights. From the window of the boat I dipped and 
 drank the crystal water, and filled a small bottle which I 
 brought to America. Like our Lake George, it is so pure 
 
go FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 that a very deep bottom can be seen. The ever-varying 
 forms of the verdant hills were embellished with wildwood, 
 and those spots without trees were dotted with clumps of 
 low bushes and yellow furze, while steep crag and sylvan 
 height threw their long grisly forms down into the nether 
 sky, reflected all along the margin of the lake, I asked 
 our captain how he got his little steamboat over the wild 
 mountains to the lake. He replied, " It was brought here in 
 in three pieces !" In 1843 a steamboat was placed on the 
 lake, but the jealous oar-boatmen are supposed to have been 
 the cause of its sudden and mysterious disappearance the 
 very same summer. Nothing was ever heard of it. The 
 captain announced every remarkable locality, as the boat 
 rippled along, the softly dashing paddle-wheels throwing the 
 fleckered waves behind, in gentle response to the monoto- 
 nous whine and distressful wail of the Scotch bagpipe. Was 
 not this romantic ! The captain was what I call a very 
 clever fellow; and his Gaelic enunciation was sufficiently 
 mysterious for this romantic region. He pointed to the pass 
 of Beal-ach-nam-Bo, a magnificent mountain glade over- 
 hung with birches, where they used to drive cattle during 
 the rebellion and persecution. The Den of the Goblin is a 
 deep upright gash m Benvenu.e, surrounded by prodigious 
 crags, oaks, birches, and other wild trees. Near the upper 
 end of the lake there is an isle exactly agreeing with the 
 residence of Douglas, in the Lady of the Lake. Lady Wil- 
 loughby D'Eresby built a cottage on it a few years since, 
 which was burnt by accident. A number of islets bedeck 
 the lake. Our captain, who was my only source of know- 
 ledge, showed me the Isle of Wisdom, where a farmer took 
 refuge during the Highland wars, but while preparing it for 
 his abode, peace was proclaimed. He asked me what I 
 thought was the height of a rock he pointed to on the shore; 
 and when I said twenty-five feet, he put my Yankee guessing 
 into the shade by saying it was two hundred feet ! 
 
LADY OF THE LAKE ISLAND. 61 
 
 But the Lady of the Lake Island, or Ellen's Isle, is the 
 queen of all objectSj to which every eye is attracted. 
 There it is, rising out of the water, a little wilderness of 
 sylvan beauty ! From an eye measurement it appeared to 
 be some two hundred feet diameter, its highest part about 
 thirty. Opposite the northern shore of the isle is Beal-an- 
 Duine, and in the defile of the great gorge in the mountain, 
 Fitzjames fell and lost his "gallant gray," after he had 
 chased the deer all the way from Callander. Here Ellen 
 received him in her little skiff. I never could have forgiven 
 myself for neglecting to visit Ellen's Isle; so I went ashore 
 here, with the Lady of the Lake in hand — I was near saying 
 by the hand — and read the description written in the midst 
 of the very scene itself: 
 
 From underneath an aged oak, 
 
 That slanted from the islet rock, 
 
 A damsel guider of the way, 
 
 A little skiff shot from the bay, 
 
 That round the promontory steep 
 
 Led its deep line in graceful sweep, 
 
 Eddying, in almost viewless wave, 
 
 The weeping-willow twig to lave. 
 
 And kiss, with whispering sound and slow, 
 
 The beach of pebbles bright as snow. 
 
 The boat had touched this silver strand 
 
 Just as the hunter left his stand. 
 
 And stood concealed amid the brake, 
 
 To view the Lady of the Lake. 
 
 The maiden paused as if again 
 
 She thought to catch the distant strain, 
 
 With head up-raised and look intent, 
 
 And eye and ear attentive bent, 
 
 And locks flung back and lips apart. 
 
 Like monument of Grecian art. 
 
 In listening mood she seemed to stand, 
 
 The guardian Naiad of the strand. 
 
 Desirous of some memento of the island, I pushed my way 
 vigorously through the thick bushes and thrifty bird, sap- 
 lings on the rugged hillside ; and though I found one to my 
 mind, my hands and face were like the cover of a school- 
 boy's book, handsomely illustrated with cuts. 
 6 
 
62 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Night coming on, and being far from any house, it was 
 with great regret that I thought best not to go through the 
 Trosachs, though now close upon this wild romantic pass 
 of rocks; and I had to be content with Scott's striking picture 
 in the Lady of the Lake. Near Callander Fitzjames had his 
 furious combat with Roderick Dhu. In this vicinity are many 
 ancient battle-fields. Indeed, one can hardly travel a mile 
 in S cotland without stepping on a spot where some warrior 
 was slain. Here the Scots fought bravely for their inde- 
 pendence. Near C ambus-Kenneth Abbey, on a bridge, a 
 dreadful battle was fought between Sir William Wallace 
 and Edward I. Cressingham was slain; and was so detested 
 by the Scots that they made saddle-girths of his skin, and 
 Vi^allace had a sword-belt of the same inhuman material. 
 In the village of Doune, nine miles from Sterling, is an old 
 fortress, garrisoned by Prince Charles. Among the prisoners 
 confined there, was Home, author of the tragedy of Douglas. 
 A mile from the famous Stirling Castle, was fought, on Sun- 
 day, the 23d of June, 1313, the great battle of Bannockburn, 
 the Marathon of the North, between the English army of 
 100,000 — including 40,000 cavalry and 3000 in complete 
 armour — under Edward II., and the Scots of 30,000 under 
 Robert Bruce, when the English were defeated with the loss 
 of 30,000. In this dreadful battle there were slain on both 
 sides 27 barons, 200 knights, 7000 squires, and 30,000 of 
 inferior rank. 
 
 But let us turn to something lovelier. One does not visit 
 Loch Katrine every day. On our return, let Scott depicture 
 the scenery : 
 
 One burnished sheet of living gold, 
 Loch Katrine lay before him rolled, 
 In aU. her length far winding lay, 
 With promontory, creek and bay. 
 And islands that empurpled bright. 
 Floated amid the livelier light, 
 And mountains, that lilte giants stand, 
 To sentinel enchanted land. 
 
LOCH KATRINE SCENERY. 63 
 
 High on the south, huge Benvemie 
 
 Down to the lake in masses threw 
 
 Crags, knolls, and mounds, confusedly hurled. 
 
 The fragments of an earlier world. 
 
 the mountains, and everything looked lovelier than ever. 
 "In sailing along you discover many arms of the lake — here 
 a bold headland, where the black rocks dip in unfathomable 
 water — there the white sand in the bottom of the bay, 
 bleached for ages by the waves. In walking on the north 
 side, the road is sometimes cut through the face of the solid 
 rock, which rises iipwards of two hundred feet perpendicular 
 above the lake, which, before the road was cut, had to be 
 mounted by a kind of natural ladder. Every rock has its 
 echo, and every grove is vocal with the harmony of birds, or 
 by the airs of women and children gathering nuts in their 
 season. Down the side of the opposite mountain, after a 
 shower of rain, flow a hundred white streams, which rush 
 with incredible noise and velocity into the lake. On one 
 side, the water-eagle sits in majesty undisturbed on his well- 
 known rock, in sight of his nest on the top of Benvenue ; the 
 heron stalks among the reeds in search of his prey, and the 
 sportive ducks gam^bol in the waters or dive below. On the 
 other the wild goats climb where they have scarce room for 
 the soles of their feet, and the w^ild-birds, perched on exalted 
 trees and pinnacles, look down with composed indifference 
 on man. The scene is closed by a west view of the lake, its 
 sides being lined v/ith clumps of wood and ample fields, the 
 smoke rising in spiral columns through the air from farm- 
 houses concealed by intervening woods; and the prospect is 
 bounded by the towering Alps of Arrochar." This was the 
 scene of Scott's spirit-stirring "Hail to the Chief,^' sung by 
 the retainers of Roderick Dhu, while rowing down the lake. 
 It was nearly night when our boat reached the west end 
 of Loch Katrine. From the mean appearance of the tavern 
 there, I determined to push on over the mountains, and run 
 
64 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the risk of getting something like a decent sleeping-place. 
 The small lake Arklet, in the bosom of the mountains, forms 
 a stream that runs several miles, and tumbles down the steep 
 crags into Loch Lomond. In one of the smoky huts between 
 the mountains may be seen a Spanish musket six feet and a 
 half long, which belonged to Rob Roy, whose residence was 
 in this lone vale ; and hard by is the birth-place of Helen 
 McGregor, Rob R.oy's wife. Not wishing to proceed any 
 further that night on account of the rain, I stopped again at 
 the Highland cottage; but all my efforts to explain why I 
 wanted to stay over night were useless: " Ye'll be better off 
 at Balloch," was the woman's uniform reply. All this was 
 the more mysterious, as I offered to pay for sleeping on the 
 Jloor, and had been so well treated there before. "Ye'll be 
 better off at Balloch !" How was I to get to Balloch, thirty 
 miles off, when there was no steamboat till next day ? As 
 I had not the gift of second sight, these Highland mysteries 
 must remain shrouded in Caledonia mist for awhile. Well, 
 I must go on in the rain, and try some other place; but 
 began seriously to think 
 
 " The heath this night must he my bed !" 
 
 At a small house some distance from the road I was kindly 
 received, where I got some refreshment and rested. I told 
 them I was a stranger from the United States in ill health, 
 and offered pay to stay over night. The farmer said I could 
 lodge there with great pleasure, if they were not strictly 
 forbidden "to entertain strangers" by the Duke of Montrose, 
 who owned nearly all Sterlingshire; adding, that his tenants 
 were only servants. The "Highland mystery" at the other 
 house was now all unravelled. Try again — there's nothing 
 like trying. On the way I passed the ruins of an old fortress 
 built to overawe the MacGregor clan. I reached Inversnaid 
 hotel in the evening, well drenched, and had much pleasant 
 conversation with the landlord, who was quite entertained 
 
A NIGHT AT INVERSNAID. 65 
 
 with my romantic stories, and remarks about America. 
 From the window of my princely lodging-room, the view 
 was enchanting. A steep mountain close in the rear of the 
 house was covered with green wild trees, through which a 
 winding path led to the top. A foaming cataract, formed 
 by the stream that wanders along the mountains for three 
 miles, rushes down a steep ravine among rugged, shelving 
 rocks and mountain wildwoods into Loch Lomond, the pebbly 
 beach of whose blue expanse is within biscuit throw below 
 the house. The strange things I had seen through the day 
 kept me awake till a very late hour, though greatly fatigued. 
 The soothing murmur of this romantic waterfall during the 
 intervals of sleep, was not less charming than the pic- 
 turesque beauty of the surrounding scenery. 
 
 Next morning, after a capital breakfast, what was the 
 charge for this princely entertainment? Nothing! The 
 Messrs. Blair surprised me by refusing anything whatever; 
 and the mystery was increased by the captain of the Loch 
 Lomond steamboat, who said he had been in America, and 
 that I should go to Balloch " Scot free !" Inversnaid Mill 
 was the scene of Wordsworth's " Highland Girl." 
 
 On my way back to Glasgow, I was struck with admiration 
 at the sublimity of the overhanging mountains along the 
 shore, near the glen of Liveruglas, and a milk-white torrent 
 descending a mountain for miles. 
 
 I would not give those two glorious days in the Highlands 
 for a hundred fashionable trips to Saratoga. How many 
 squander as much cash in a year or two for senseless things, 
 as would pay for a trip over the ocean ! For five or six hun- 
 dred dollars, with due regard to economy, they might see 
 nearly every capital in Europe ! This is said advisedly, and 
 from data as sure as experience. It is needless to enlarge on 
 the advantages of foreign travel. One may spend many 
 months abroad, admire ten thousand things, and after all, 
 come back American. Yes, the thing is possible ! 
 6* 
 
QQ FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Paisley, seven miles from Glasgow, is noted for its manu- 
 facture of shawls. I took a seat in the railway one afternoon, 
 and for a sixpence was whistled over the track in fifteen 
 minutes. Wind and steam, though propelling in different 
 directions, seemed to conspire which could do most mischief 
 in a given time ; for while a gentleman was standing in the 
 car, the wind spitefully twitched off his hat, and before ho 
 could turn, like Gilpin's wig, it was a mile oif "upon the 
 road," in gay company with gloves, handkerchief, letters and 
 documents. My letter of introduction, with some documents 
 from my friend Mr. P. K. Kilbourn, of Litchfield, Con. to 
 Lord Kilburn, Earl of Glasgow, were more fortunate in 
 reaching their destination. So then you had a letter to a 
 Scottish lord, had you ? Yes, I had ! I have as good a right 
 to boast of it as other travellers ! His Lordship is President 
 Judge of the Scotland Court of Sessions, and in addition to 
 his large income, has the round fat salary of £4,500 a year, 
 equal to that of the President of the United States. His 
 castle called Halkead, near Paisley, is in a secluded spot of 
 luxuriant green, undulating landscape, with here and there 
 a grove on the neighbouring hills. The wayside leading to 
 this attractive scenery was adorned all along with roses, 
 whose fragrant scent was inspiring. The butler of the castle 
 received me politely, but T was not in luck this time, for 
 Lord Kilburn had gone to Glasgow, where the documents 
 were left for him. It was not from a vain ambition to get 
 acquainted with a British lord, but the loss of an opportunity 
 to see society in its widely different aspects, that caused a 
 momentary disappointment at his absence. 
 
 While waiting for the railway, I took a survey of Paisley, 
 an old, close-packed town of 6000, with dirty, up-hill-and- 
 down streets, leading in all directions. The Abbey Church 
 is the most prominent object. Its manufactures of gauze, silk 
 and cotton shawls, plaids. Canton crape, Persian velvet, and 
 the like, are famous the world over. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 2lmlit|)floh3— iFalfeirfe— Htsmfiurjj^ anti aeftl). 
 
 Stranger, if e'er thine ardent step hath traced 
 The northern realms of ancient Caledon, 
 Where the proud queen of wilderness hath placed 
 By lake and cataract her lonely throne, 
 Sublime but sad delight thy soul hath known. 
 
 Lord oj the Isles. 
 
 " Have you seen Edinburgli? It throws all you have seen 
 into the shade !" This remark was made to me by George 
 Catlin, the celebrated painter, to whom I had a letter of 
 introduction, and who has an Indian Gallery at Waterloo 
 Place, London. On entering Reid & Murray's, Glasgow, I 
 saw with some surprise, his name on the office window. 
 How very strange ! If I had not seen him here, I should 
 not have found him at all, for he was not in London on my 
 arrival there, and his acquaintance was of great value to 
 me. Mr. C. was agent for a British Land Company, and 
 was delivering able and popular lectures on emigration to 
 Texas, illustrating his lectures by large transparent paint- 
 ings of American scenery. 
 
 The distance by railway from Glasgow to Edinburgh is 
 forty-six miles, through several tunnels — one of them a mile. 
 The country is more uneven than England, but under high 
 cultivation, and reminded me of Connecticut. Here and there 
 was a mountain forest or grove of Scotch firs. No gray 
 spectres, witches, or Brown Man of the Moor, appeared on 
 any of the wild, barren moors through which we passed — pos- 
 sibly because daylight lingered — more likely because there 
 were none ! Imagination will dwell on things we have read 
 about in youth, even though we know them to be ''wild 
 natives of the brain;" especially when evoked in passing 
 
58 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 through this region of witches and goblins, and places of 
 historic or legendary renown. At Kylsyth a great battle was 
 fought between the Covenanters and Montrose in 1645. At 
 Falkirk-muir, Wallace's friend Sir Charles Graham and Sir 
 John Stewart fell in the battle with the forces of Edward I. 
 in 1292; where also the Highlanders were victorious in a 
 battle with the royal army. Near this is an old Roman wall. 
 Linlithgow palace, on the margin of an enchanting little 
 lake near the railway, is now a beautiful ruin. Here Queen 
 Mary was born, and Edward I. wintered. In the church, 
 tradition says James IV. saw an apparition warning him of 
 his fall in the battle of Flojiden-Field. Leaving Pentland 
 Hills on the right, we reach Corstorphine Hill, a romantic 
 spot covered with trees and villas, in sight of Edinburgh. 
 Glorious sight ! The striking impression made by a distant 
 view of Edinburgh Castle, and Arthur's seat rising out of the 
 plain like a pyramid of Egypt, is like some prominent event 
 in our life. Even now their bold outline is before me, like 
 the vivid after-thoughts of the same reality. 
 
 Our smoke-horse darted like lightning over moor and vale, 
 and instead of ascending or turning round a mountain, shot 
 right through like a mad bull, in disdain of all small obsta- 
 cles, resting himself after a two hours' race, at his station 
 m Princes street, near the George the Fourth Bridge. 
 
 Standing on Princes street, the eye takes a sweep its whole 
 length of stately mansions, the opposite side beautified with 
 parks and pillared porticos. Here is a pointed Gothic tower 
 with turret and pinnacle, two hundred feet high, with a 
 statue inside in a sitting posture. It is Scott! As I stood 
 before the stately pile, rising in rich, artistic beauty, the 
 Royal Institution in full view, bearing no mean resemblance 
 to the Parthenon, above which stood Edinburgh Castle like 
 another Acropolis, it seemed as if a new Athens were indeed 
 before me. Here was no god made with hands it is true ; but 
 a presiding genius of nobler value, shrined in a monument 
 
SPLE]VDOUIl OF EDINBURGH. gg 
 
 like his own productions, beautiful, chaste, and substantial, 
 •wrought to the finest grace from the rude material of the 
 quarry. Calton Hill, a lofty summit in the city, is covered 
 with splendid monuments, Nelson's being the climax. In 
 the direction of Holyrood Palace, beyond old Edinburgh, rises 
 Arthur's Seat, majestic as a volcano. Turning, you have 
 a full view of the old city, on a steep acclivity, gradually 
 ascending to the top of the castle, a solid rock four hundred 
 feet above the valley ! The old town is "a city set on a 
 hill;" and at night the multitude of street lamps and illumi- 
 nated windows of houses fourteen stories high, unobstructed 
 by intermediate objects, present a scene of astonishing splen- 
 dour ! From my lodgings in South St. Andrew street, I had 
 a full view of Scott's Monument, the old city, and the castle. 
 
 An incredible number of large cannon overlook the bat- 
 teries of the castle. On the anniversary of the battle of 
 Waterloo they were fired one after another, and it seemed 
 as if their number was legion. It was sublime and spirit- 
 stirring to see ever and anon a blue cloud of smoke roll out 
 from the battlements to foretell the forthcoming thunder 
 that shook the castle and the whole city of Edinburgh, 
 
 There are a number of stone bridges, or dry arches, over 
 the valley between old and new Edinburgh, Mr. Catlin 
 and myself were standing on the North Bridge overlooking 
 High street and the Canongate, philosophizing on Time's 
 changes, "You see," said he, "this long, dingy-looking street 
 below. Here the kings and queens, nobles and noblesse, lived 
 in the splendours of olden time. Up and down these narrow 
 streets, where a decent mechanic would now refuse to live, 
 their processions marched." The streets of old Edinburgh 
 are occupied by a queer population — pedlers, dealers in old 
 wares, hucksters and auctioneers, Gentiles and Scotch Jews, 
 all mixed up in one heterogeneous mass; in fair weather 
 assembled in noisy squads in the middle of the streets, in 
 picturesque disorder, giving the town the appearance of a 
 
70 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 holiday. The denizens of these old-fashioned precincts are 
 remarkable for longevity, some attaining one kundred and 
 twenty, and even a hundred and fifty years ! Divers of them 
 have never visited the new city in all their lives, though only 
 quarter of a mile off; and not a few are unacquainted with 
 English, being Highlanders by birth. All this seems strange 
 enough. The most squalid abodes are the narrow lanes or 
 closes, of very steep and laborious ascent. There would seem 
 to be as little commerce between the two communities as the 
 Jews had with the Samaritans of old. Nothing can exceed 
 the contrast between old and new Edinburgh, which has 
 sprung up within the last thirty years — luxury and refine- 
 ment, meanness and poverty, in strange juxta-position and 
 close proximity. The streets are generally laid out in right 
 angles, but are very hilly. I perambulated this odd-looking 
 vicinage with all the interest of a gaping down-easter enter- 
 ing New- York for the first time. Many of the houses are from 
 eleven to fourteen stories high. I went through West Bow, 
 Harrowgate, Cowgate, the Grassmarket, where criminals or 
 the victims of popular fury were executed, all associated with 
 the strange events of Scottish history. I could fancy the 
 stout figure of Cromwell moving about the streets with dang- 
 ling sword, brigand hat, and fire-bucket boots, and a retinue 
 of fierce soldiers trailing at his heels. In passing down 
 High street I saw an old building at the head of Netherbow, 
 and knew from the prints I had seen in the shops that it was 
 John Knox's house. ,The corner had been lately repaired 
 with wood, and painted to correspond with the dark-coloured 
 stone. From a pulpit on the outer wall of the second story 
 he denounced Mary Queen of Scots as she passed along High 
 street to mass. Besides many other remarkable localities, I 
 strolled through Canongate, but can only chronicle the 
 name — Scott has given the Chronicles of the Canongate. 
 The site of the old Tolbooth is called by some The Heart 
 of Mid-Lotbian. I entered several old churches, among 
 
EDINBL'RGH CASTLE. 7j 
 
 them the famous St. Giles cathedral, with a tower in the 
 shape of a crown, surmounted by a spire. In its cemetery 
 John Knox is interred. In Greyfriars churchyard are the 
 remains of George Buchanan, Dr. Blair, Dr. Robertson the 
 historian, Allan Ramsay the poet, whose house near the 
 Edinburgh Castle is yet standing; and the cenotaph of 
 18,000 martyrs, slain between 1660 and 1668. Victoria Hall 
 is a new and very noble Gothic pile with a splendid spire. 
 
 On Sunday, after divine service at St. James', I handed 
 
 the Rev. J. W. Ferguson a letter from Rev. Mr. B of 
 
 New- York. He forthwith gave me his card, and a cordial 
 invitation to breakfast the next morning, when I was kindly 
 welcomed by all the family. I was introduced to Mr. 
 Bayard Van Rensselaer of Albany, New- York, who had been 
 spending many months in Europe. I had a vivid illustration 
 before me of Scott's description of the hospitality of a Scotch 
 breakfast. We had much conversation about America and 
 its distinguished men; and many inquiries were made by the 
 reverend gentleman concerning the Episcopal Church in our 
 country, he being a minister of the Church of Scotland. 
 I ventured the remark that our liturgy was an improvement 
 on the English ; which he kindly admitted. It was pleasing to 
 hear him observe, that the Rev. Mr. Bedell was very highly 
 esteemed in Edinburgh, where he and his lady spent some 
 time in 1848. 
 
 After breakfast Mr. Van Rensselaer called for his carriage 
 and invited me to take a scat with him. What could be more 
 opportune in my weak condition? We had a drive through 
 the handsomest parts of the new city and the old, and then 
 drove through the esplanade of the renowned Edinburgh 
 Castle up the long winding slope, to the very top, a solid rock 
 four hundred feet above the valley ! A large number of sol- 
 diers were paraded in the esplanade, in full Highland dress, 
 tartan plaid and bare legs ; a very showy novelty, but not so 
 agreeable to them in winter. The castle resembles a small 
 
72. FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 towiij with its buildings and paved streets, chapel, armoury, 
 magazine, and what not. We entered Mary Queen of Scots' 
 apartment, much in the same state she left it, furniture 
 and all. Here was an original portrait of James I. of Eng- 
 land and VI. of Scotland, who was born in this room, and 
 according to my lady cicerone, was lowered out of this win- 
 dow three hundred feet below ! "A piece of Queen Mary's 
 thorn tree from Loch Leven Castle, 1849," is looked upon as 
 a curiosity. In that castle she was a prisoner. On the wall 
 in a frame is her prayer, painted in old English, a printed 
 copy of which the keeper gave me : 
 
 IDnri Mn (Cljrpt tljat dutnimiit inns tnitlj ^linritk 
 l^rmm tjiB aairtji ijii^nis Snigt! jinr is inm, 
 %.\\t Mul Mix §nn ^umsBrnt tn txtl^m still 
 Inng in tIjiB llBnimL if tjjat it to €\m mill 
 ais (irnnt (D Inr& iinliiit mn nf lir prDHBrJt 
 %t in tljti (ilnrif Mmn mi ^xm Hnbih. 
 
 gear 1566— Bfrtf) of fK-tng 3am£S— JSontfj 19 Sunit. 
 With sacrilegious familiarity I took a seat on her chair 
 of state. It was quite a republican-looking chair, with a 
 broad straight back. Here a lady may imagine herself a 
 queen, and then — thank Heaven she is not. Entering our 
 names on the visiters' book, we dropped into Queen Marga- 
 ret's private chapel, which the conductor said was the first 
 church ever built in Scotland. This small, gloomy, oblong 
 cell, with windows a foot wide on one side, seemed a fit place 
 to do penance in. It has a confessional, and the altar vessels 
 were kept in a small hole in the wall. It was for ages used 
 as a powder-magazine. This was no place for me to enjoy 
 the pleasures of imagination — there is too much reality in 
 gunpowder. Who knows but there may be a blow-up? 
 Fancy is often stronger than reason; and so I wished myself 
 somewhere else ; when happily I was assured there was none 
 
REGALIA OF SCOTLAND 73 
 
 in it ! The armoury is a vast museum of war implements — 
 steel cuirasses taken at the battle of Waterloo ; horse-pistols 
 taken at the battle of Culloden; swords of Scotch '^revs. 
 used in the battle of Waterloo ; a prodigious swivel-gun ; 
 cuirasses used in Wallace's time; coat of mail worn by one 
 of the Douglases ; carbines, pistols, shields, Highland swords, 
 Lochabar axes, Rob Ploy's real dirk, and ten thousand such 
 . antiquities, that not only call up historic associations, but 
 are enough to create an unwritten history. 
 
 Conspicuous among the numerous huge, deep-mouthed 
 cannon that scowl from their dreadful post of observation, 
 is Mons Meg, made at Mons in Flanders in 1480. Some call 
 it Mons, from the maker's name, and his wife Meg, Still 
 another derivation from Meg Merrilies in Guy Mannering, 
 would be as good as any, had Scott lived a hundred years 
 sooner. It is eighteen feet long, made of iron hoops welded, 
 and carries a ball five feet in circumference, one of which 
 lay beneath. That iron throat once spake in thunder; but ah ! 
 it is now troubled with bronchitis, and is never fired. This 
 famous cannon has seen hard times, having been at the siege 
 of Norham, and a long time prisoner in the Tower of Lon- 
 don, but was finally restored to Scotland by the influence of 
 Sir Walter Scott. 
 
 From the battlements the landscape is far-reaching and 
 splendid, the wide area being sprinkled over with gardens, 
 parks, benevolent institutions, obelisks, the Firth Ptiver and 
 Inchkeith Island, the view being bounded by mountains in 
 the smoky distance. Having a curiosity to look into Meg's 
 mouth, I stepped upon the ramparts overlooking the frightful, 
 yawning abyss, but a sentinel did not think it polite to look 
 down her ladyship's throat, and called out — "That's not 
 allowed !" He broke off a piece of the highest rock of the 
 castle to add to my little collection of mementos. 
 
 A ticket is required to visit the Crown-Room in the castle, 
 where the Regalia of Scotland are kept. It is a small, arched 
 Y 
 
y^ FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 room of solid masonry, and the jewels are inclosed in an iron 
 cage, over which are hung four sepulchral lamps from the 
 arch. The crown, sword, sceptre, and other memorials of 
 the house of Stuart, symbols of the ancient independence of 
 Scotland, are now the types of departed sovereignty. There 
 they lie ! That crown which has sat on more than one 
 uneasy head, rests quietly on its crimson velvet couch ! Here 
 is a miniature of the Queen of James VI. ; a ruby ring stud- 
 ded with diamonds, worn by the ancient kings of Scotland 
 at coronations, and last worn by the unfortunate Charles I.; 
 the order of St. Andrew cut on an onyx set with diamonds, 
 and on the reverse the thistle, which opens by a secret spring, 
 and reveals a beautiful miniature of Anne of Denmark; the 
 golden collar of the garter presented by Queen Elizabeth to 
 James VI. with its appendage, the George. The tiara, or 
 bonnet, worn under the crown, was anciently purple, after- 
 ward crimson velvet, turned up with ermine. The sword of 
 state is five feet long, including the handle of fifteen inches, 
 and is of extremely rich and fanciful workmanship. The 
 sceptre is a beautiful, slender, golden rod, with a native stone 
 like crystal at the end, about the size of an egg. " Take away 
 these baubles!" Cromwell would say. Baubles they are, 
 irrespective of the great events of ancient days, of which they 
 are a kind of index. Who that knows anything of the philoso- 
 phy of the mind, but knows how the sight of such mementos 
 will quicken historical researches, and invest everything 
 with lifelike reality ? So it is with me at any rate. Why, 
 what was Cromwell himself but a bauble, that like the 
 kings and other great playthings of mankind, have been laid 
 on the shelf, that other generations may take an occasional 
 glance at them, and see how they once looked ? 
 
 These crown jewels were deposited in a square tower in 
 the castle in 1707, and from being for ages concealed, were 
 supposed to be stolen or destroyed ] but were lately discovered 
 in a large oaken chest now in the Crown-Room. - 
 
HOLYROOD PALACE. 75 
 
 We next drove to Holyrood Palace, and were conducted 
 through Queen Mary's dining-room, drawing-room, dressing- 
 room, and hedroom. The furniture is just as she left it three 
 hundred years ago. "This," said the lady guide, "is the 
 double chair on which Queen Mary and Darnley sat — these 
 are her chairs, covered with her own needlework — that is her 
 original looking-glass — that is Darnley's gauntlet," On an 
 oblong piece of black marble, called an altar-piece, just 
 large enough to stand on, Mary was crowned. The enchant- 
 ress of the palace pointed to portraits of Charles 11., the Duke 
 of Hamilton, Philip King of Spain, and James II., the last 
 one being especially remarkable for its savage ugliness, with 
 large gray eyes, lantern-jaws, and red hair. Well, it was 
 not his fault if he was not an Adonis— " handsome is that 
 handsome does;" but if his good deeds were equal to his 
 good looks, who can wonder at the frequent convulsions into 
 which the body politic and ecclesiastic were thrown, and the 
 tumults, up-turnings, overturnings and blow-ups in those 
 days ? I gazed with a deep feeling of sorrow at Queen Mary's 
 portrait on the wall, in the dress in which she was executed. 
 No one rebuked me for taking a seat with democratic fami- 
 liarity in her chair of state. Here are her work-table, work- 
 box, baby-basket, a portrait of Jane Shore, and of herself 
 before marriage, and in the fire-place is her original grate 
 and fender. 
 
 Her bedroom is by far the most interesting, from the bloody 
 tragedy acted in it, and its antique appearance. The com- 
 partments of the ceiling are diamond and hexagon, with four 
 sceptres pointing in opposite directions in every other space, 
 and circles in the alternate spaces, with J. R. and M. R. 
 ornamented with St. Andrew's cross, St. George's cross, the 
 portcullis, harp, rose, and crests of Scotland and England. 
 The walls are decorated with a large tapestry picture repre- 
 senting the mythological story of Phaethon and hi^ sisters. 
 Like the bed of Charles 11. that of Queen Mary has long, 
 
yg FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 slender, fluted mahogany posts a dozen feet high, canopied in 
 regal state, its damask curtains and drapery faded and torn. 
 
 If these dingy old walls could speak, what heart-hurningSj 
 jealous intrigues, and conspiracies would be revealed ! Why, 
 it was in this very room, on the very spot where I stand, that 
 David Pbizzio was murdered on the 9th March, 1566, as I 
 find the details in Scottish history. The conspirators came 
 up through, that dark passage in the corner of the room, 
 leading to the secret stairs, while he was at supper with the 
 Queen Mary, the Countess of Argyle, and one or two others, 
 in a small closet adjoining her bedroom. To insure the 
 perpetration of the murder, the chancellor of the kingdom, 
 whose duty was to enforce the law, kept the outer doors of 
 the palace with a guard of one hundred and sixty soldiers. 
 Darnley entered suddenly, without saluting any of the com- 
 pany, and gazed at Rizzio with a sullen, vindictive look. 
 Then followed PbUthven, pale and ghastly, having risen from 
 a bed of sickness, to be chief actor in this horrid tragedy. 
 Others appeared behind. Ruthven bade Rizzio come forth 
 from a place he was unworthy to hold. The miserable 
 Italian clung to the skirts of the queen's gown, imploring 
 her help. Mary was soon forced by the king (Darnley) from 
 his hold. One Douglas, a bastard, snatched the king's own 
 dagger from his side, and gave Rizzio a blow. He was then 
 dragged into the outer apartment and stabbed with fifty-six 
 wounds, and set up against the wall, where the poor fellow 
 bled to death ! Mine were feelings of awful interest — three 
 hundred years were but as yesterday — I vfas an eye-witness 
 to dark deeds of other days ! Poor David Ptizzio ! The queen 
 had exhausted herself in prayers and entreaties for the 
 wretched man's life; but when she knew that he was dead, 
 she said, " I will now dry my tears and study revenge." 
 
 This Darnley was decidedly a bad fellow. After all his 
 villanies, he was well paid up. One night the whole town 
 of Edinburgh was startled by a tremendous explosirn of 
 
HOLYROOD ABBEY. 77 
 
 gunpowder, which blew him and the house, Kirk-of-Fields, 
 sky-high. This plot was attributed by Queen Elizabeth to 
 the Queen of Scots, but was doubtless the work of Both well. 
 The fingers of Time have been busy at the joints of the floor, 
 which are decayed to the width of half an inch. Some may 
 doubt whether stains of blood can be seen; but after the 
 severest scrutiny of touch and sight, I felt less difficulty in 
 belief than doubt. The floor in this locality is darkish and 
 begrimmed. There is an amusing story in Scott's Chronicles 
 of the Canongate, about a cockney attempting to wash out 
 these blood-stains with a "detergent elixir." 
 
 As I pass from room to room, the furniture, tapestry and 
 pictures on the walls flit by like the ghosts of departed glory. 
 Vain end of royal ambition! The proud Stuarts have 
 been low in the dust for centuries ; and their palace halls 
 are now traversed by republican strangers : and even their 
 chambers of most sacred privacy are invaded and open to 
 our prying curiosity. How does every word of the poet fit in 
 its place ! 
 
 " The boast of heraldry, the pomp of po-wer, 
 And all that beauty, all that -wealth e'er gave, 
 
 Await alike th' inevitable hour, 
 The paths of glory lead but to the grave !" 
 
 Holyrood has lately become a royal residence, splendid 
 apartments having been fitted out for Victoria. 
 
 Holyrood Abbey, adjoining the palace, is in ruins. It was 
 founded by David I. in 1128, to commemorate his escape in 
 a neighbouring forest, was plundered in 1332 by the army 
 of Edward III., burnt in 1335 by the array of Richard II. , 
 demolished in 1544 by the Earl of Hertford, and in 1668 the 
 roof fell in. Cromwell seems to have given it the finishing 
 touch, there being many breaches in the walls made by 
 his cannon. Nothing now remains but the nave and walls, 
 which are in a state of progressive decay, the roof being 
 entirely gone. Here were entombed David II., James V. and 
 his queen, and some of his successors, Queen Magdalen, Lord 
 7* 
 
78 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Darnley, and other notles. Many of the tombs were vio- 
 lated by the mob between 1776 and 1779, and several large 
 bones were exhibited, supposed to be those of Darnley. The 
 adjoining buildings now prevent ingress to the graveyard. 
 
 On Calton Hill are many magnificent monuments — ^to 
 Burns, Playfair, Dugald Stewart, and others. I ascended 
 the Nelson Monument, a very imposing obelisk a hundred 
 feet high, which with the hill, makes the surprising altitude 
 of five hundred feet from the level of the sea. The glorious 
 prospect from this lofty eminence is said to rival even the 
 Bay of Naples. The National Monument to those who fell 
 in the battle of Waterloo, is the prototype of the Athenian 
 Parthenon — a design as noble in its proportions as the object 
 of its erection. For want of funds it remains unfinished, 
 its white marble columns and architrave resembling at a 
 distance a splendid ruin. 
 
 Leith is the port of Edinburgh, a mile and a half distant. 
 The Frith of Forth was the home of my ancestors. None 
 of their American descendants but me, that I know of, ever 
 crossed the dark waters to the Old World. Leith Walk is 
 a fine broad avenue of stores and dwellings connecting the 
 two places. No vestige remains of the pier at which the 
 Queen of Scots landed, on her arrival at Leith from France, 
 in 1561 . The wild waves of the German Ocean were lashing 
 the beach, and the bare legs of women and children. A wan- 
 dering walk of some miles along hedged lanes brought me 
 to the famous Salisbury Crags and Arthur's Seat. It was a 
 pilgrim's progress up the long, steep ascent of the hill Diffi- 
 culty. A new path called "the radical road," winds around 
 the mountain, but like some obliq[ue roads I feared it would 
 not conduct to the summit of hope; and so took "the old 
 path," planting my feet firmly in the stairs cut in the hill. 
 From this glorious, solitary summit may be seen the harboui 
 of Leith and Newhaven, the shores of Fife, the Frith of 
 Forth gradually expanding into the German Ocean, forming 
 
VIEW FROM ARTHUR'S SEAT, 79 
 
 a rich, mellow picture, bedimmed in bluish iiaze. South- 
 ward are the Pentland, Ochil, Grampian, and Lammermoor 
 Hills, and Melville Castle, just peeping above embowering 
 woods on the Delectable Mountains ! The magician of the 
 mountain, in his Heart of Mid-Lothian, has given imperish- 
 able beauty to every point of the scenery — the ruins of St. 
 Anthony the Eremite's Chapel on the north side of the hill, 
 and the spot where Jeanie Deans met the ruffian. From this 
 dizzy height I can see "the huge city black with the smoke of 
 ages, and groaning with the various sounds of active industry 
 or idle revel," while silence, gloomy and impressive, hovers 
 on the surrounding hills and the lofty Salisbury Crags. The 
 romantic grandeur of the picture can be painted by none so 
 well as Scott. "If I were to choose a spot from which the 
 rising or setting sun could be seen to the greatest possible 
 advantage, it would be that wild path winding around the 
 foot of the high belt of semicircular rocks, called Salisbury 
 Crags, and marking the verge of the steep descent which 
 slopes down into the glen on the south-eastern side of the 
 city of Edinburgh." The path around the Isase of the clifls 
 presents an ever-varying phase of hills, vales, rocks, islands, 
 distant shores, and mountains. "When a piece of scenery 
 so beautiful yet so varied — so exciting by its intricacy, and 
 yet so sublime — is lighted up by the tints of morning or of 
 evening, and displays all that variety of shadowy depth, 
 exchanged with partial brilliancy, which gives character to 
 the tamest landscapes, the effect approaches near to enchant- 
 ment." While gazing at this bewildering scenery, I fell 
 asleep from fatigue in the cleft of the topmost rock, where I 
 must have lost my "roll," or wayside notes of Edinburgh" 
 but had the satisfaction of knowing they were of no use to 
 anybody but the owner ; though I have been obliged to draw 
 from memory, upon which, however, the wonders of three 
 days in Edinburgh are too deeply engraved to be soon obl'ter- 
 ated. 
 
CHAPTER IX. 
 
 bear me then to vast embowering shades, 
 To twilight groTBs, and visionary vales ; 
 To weeping grottoes, and prophetic glooms ; 
 Where angel forms athwart the solemn dusk 
 Tremendous sweep, or seem to sweep along ; 
 And voices more than human through the void 
 Deep-sounding, sieze th' enthusiastic ear ! 
 
 Thomson. 
 
 The skies of Scotia are not brighter, nor, if "vre except the 
 Highlands, the landscape looks not more romantic than my 
 native land^ yet there is a kind of witchery in everything 
 around, a spell in the very air, that makes lis feel that this 
 is enchanted land. Scott and Burns have given its historic 
 and legendary tales immortality as enduring as their names. 
 
 The number of old ruins in Britain is perfectly surprising. 
 They were objects of thrilling wonder to me, fraught with 
 pleasing instruction, like the gravestones we read while lin- 
 gering about the precincts of some lone village churchyard. 
 These old castles, palaces and abbeys are history illustrated. 
 It would be a low motive indeed to traverse the globe ovei 
 just to say we have seen such and such things; yet we may 
 moralize too much as well as too little ; and he who sees no 
 high teaching in all these things, for every truly useful pur- 
 pose might as well stay at home. 
 
 The contemplation of these wrecks of human ambition 
 will be congenial to many minds. Often and again I have 
 been borne in imagination over the ocean to these ancient 
 realms, and travelled my journey over and over again. My 
 waking dreams have found me a hundred times wandering 
 among these feudal castles and abbeys, like some ubiquitous 
 
TRIP TO MELROSE. gj 
 
 or disembodied spirit; yet not like those unhappy legendary 
 beings called spectres, whose midnighi wanderings w^ere 
 wont to terrify the weak and superstitioas. 
 
 One drawback on these sublime pleasures was the want 
 of some friend as permanent company, enhancing enjoyment 
 by a union of feeling, sentiment, and intelligence, as the reflex 
 action of the sunbeams that fall among these moss-grown 
 walls increases the pleasing heat. 
 
 How mournful the loneliness of these abbeys and castles ! 
 There they stand in ruined yet sublime grandeur, like the 
 smile on the face of a dead warrior after a day of victory; 
 the farewell flicker which the lamp of his spirit has left to 
 glimmer through its broken shrine of clay. The moonbeams 
 tremble on their battlements and castellated towers. Where 
 is the living throng that moved among them ? There is no 
 voice nor any that answers, but the dreary, dirging wind 
 sighing in sadness through the arches and deserted aisles — 
 Departed ! — departed ! 
 
 But the master-spirits of this generation seem to under- 
 stand the genius of Christianity and government better. 
 Old things are passing away — all things shall become new. 
 I am on the way to Melrose Abbey by railway ! A few 
 years ago, coaches rolled over excellent M'Adam roads that 
 traversed the kingdom in all directions, now superseded by 
 iron roads, and chariots drawn by fiery coursers, sr(ioking 
 along at the furious speed of fifty miles an hour ! Some- 
 times I could hardly get a glimpse of the numerous baronial 
 halls, and other "vronders of the way, losing sight of Roslin 
 Castle renowned in history and song, a romantic ruin on the 
 river Esk, nine miles from Edinburgh. On the adjacent 
 moor a decisive battle was fought in 1302, when the Scots 
 defeated three divisions of the English the same day. In 
 Roslin Chapel were buried all the Scottish barons in full 
 armour up to the reign of James VII. On the right we left 
 Hawthcrnden, the residence of the poet Drummond, who was 
 
82 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 SO highly esteemed by "Rare Ben Jonson," that he walked 
 all the way from London to visit him. Near Melrose, in 
 the secluded hurying-gronnd of Lindean, are the ruins of an 
 old churchj where the murdered body Of the "dark knight of 
 Liddesdale" rested on its way to Melrose. I caught a distant 
 view of Abbotsford, embosomed in sylvan solitude on the 
 bank of the Tweed. 
 
 " Melrose V^ shouted the officer. Open flew all the rail- 
 way doors ! What ! — all the way from Edinburgh in one 
 hour — thirty-six miles ! Sentimentalists may feel distaste 
 at the idea of being whistled through a romantic region at 
 this rapid rate' but to me it brought side by side the spirit 
 of our nineteenth century and the chivalric age, giving me 
 a vivid idea of both. 
 
 At the George hotel I saw a long list of persons who had 
 made pilgrimages to this enchanted ground. I went imme- 
 diately to the Abbey, the admiration of the world for ages, 
 and the sexton opened to me the iron gate. I stood before 
 the splendid pile transfixed with utter astonishment at the 
 finest specimen of Gothic architecture and sculpture in the 
 world! "I have heard the fame thereof," said I to the 
 sexton, "but surely the half hath not been told — I never 
 saw or heard of anything half so beautiful !" The sexton 
 looked pleased, and replied, "Ah ! you are not the only one 
 who says so." He then pointed to three green mounds in 
 the chancel. A large dark green marble slab embedded 
 with small sea-shells, denotes the grave of King Alexander 
 IT. one of the most illustrious ancient Scottish kings. The 
 next is the grave wherein is buried the heart of King Robert 
 Bruce, Douglas having failed to carry it to the Holy Land; 
 the modern Turkeydom. The other was the grave of 
 
 "the wondrous Michael Scott, 
 "A "wizard of such dreaded fame." 
 
 This Michael, it seems, was a man of muchel learning. 
 Tradition says the Eildon Hills, near Melrose, (the Tremon- 
 
MELROSE ABBEY. 
 
 83 
 
 tium of the Romans,) were anciently one cone, transformed 
 into picturesque peaks resembling three pyramids on the 
 distant plain. This freak is attributed to a certain restless 
 spirit whom Michael was obliged to keep constantly at work. 
 I had to smile at the stupid credulity of mankind, but recol- 
 lecting Michael's great learning, and that "knowledge is 
 power," gave it up! In the Lay of the Last Minstrel is a 
 long story about him and 
 
 " The words that cleft Eildon Hills in three, 
 "And bridled the Tweed with a curb of stone." 
 
 In the same Lay, William of Deloraine is guided by the 
 monk of St. Mary's aisle through the cloisters to the grave 
 of Michael the wizard. 
 
 The inside of the Abbey is covered with greensward, and 
 around the base of some of the long slender Gothic pillars 
 were piled stone fragments. From the perfect and entire 
 condition of almost every remaining part of the masonry, 
 one might suppose this structure was reared in 1836 instead 
 of 1136. Even the minutest ornaments look as if lately 
 wrought. Outside and in are a countless number of curiously 
 carved conceits and fanciful emblems, animals, foliage, 
 plants, of the most elaborate design and artistic beauty, 
 scarcely two alike. Under the eaves was a pig with a merry 
 face, playing on a bagpipe. The origin of this droll idea 
 I could not divine — the living animal carried undej the arm 
 IS no poor resemblance, and as to the music, I shall let 
 amateurs decide which is best — a pig or the Scotch bagpipe. 
 
 These ruins verify the ancient magnificence of this cele- 
 brated monastery, as the long shadow over the vale indicates 
 some huge mountain. The edifice is in the form of a cross, 
 with a square central tower. The remaining parts are the 
 choir and transept, the west side, part of the north and south 
 walls of the great tower, part of the nave, nearly the whole 
 of the south aisle, and part of the north. The worthy sexton 
 showed me several breaches in the upper walls, which he 
 
84 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 said were made by Oliver Cromwell's cannon. Over the 
 doorway in the west gable is a magnificent window twenty- 
 four feet high, divided by four bars or mullions, which 
 branch out and intertwine at the top in graceful curves. 
 The stone-work looks as jDcrfect as ever. Over it are nine 
 niches, and one on each buttress, which were once filled with 
 figures of Christ and the apostles. Beneath is a statue of 
 John Baptist looking up to the figure of the Saviour. In the 
 south wall of the nave are eight superb windows sixteen feet 
 high, with upright stone mullions and' the richest tracery. 
 These windows light eight small chapels, five of which are 
 now roofless. The form of the chancel is half a Greek cross. 
 The foliage of the capitals of the columns is chiselled with 
 such wonderfully exquisite art, that a straw could be thrust 
 through the interstices of the stalks and leaves ! Thus the 
 Lay of the Last Minstrel: 
 
 " The moon on the east oriel shone 
 Through slender shafts of shapely stone, 
 
 By foliage tracery combined ; 
 ThoTi would'st have thought some fairy's hand 
 'Twixt poplars straig'ht the osier wand, 
 
 In many a freakish knot had twined ; 
 Then formed a spell, when the work was done, 
 And changed the willow wreaths to stone !" 
 
 The beautifully fretted stone roof over the east end of the 
 nave still remains, springing skyward 
 
 " On pillars lofty, and light, and small ; 
 
 The keystone that locked each ribbed aisle 
 
 Was a fleur-de-lys or a quatre-feuille : 
 
 The corbells were carved grotesque and grim. 
 
 And the pillars, with clustered shafts so trim, 
 
 With base and with capital fiourish'd around, 
 
 Seemed bundles of lances which garlands had brnnd." 
 
 It was one o'clock in the day when I saw these wonderful 
 ruins. If they were so beautiful by daylight what must 
 they be by "pale moonlight?" Honest Johnny Bower was 
 not there with a tallow candle on a pole, to imitate the moon 
 shining through "the east oriel," as when Irving visited 
 
MELROSE ABBEY. 85 
 
 Melrose in Scott's time; "but his successor was as clever and 
 kind a person as one could wish to meet of a clear sunshiny 
 day in June. Poetry-struck visiters might need a tallow 
 candle on a pole when the moon does not shine; but as for 
 me, I wanted no such appliance : the very sight of the ruins 
 and the thought of the great events of which they are the 
 scene, set my whole soul a-glow with a very different kind 
 of inspiration. The sexton took a deep interest in showing 
 all the wonders. "Don't go yet," he would say: "Now 
 I want to show you the cloisters. You have nothing like this 
 in America. Just look at that bay window ! You don't 
 come to Melrose every day — I would like you to see the 
 north aisle." I took Scott from my pocket, and run my 
 eye over the descriptive portions, which have been read and 
 copied ten thousand times ; and though it is a great thing to 
 read a poem in the midst of the scene it depicts, I soon found 
 it utterly useless to go on. The poet is remarkable for the 
 graphic power and close delineation of minute objects; yet 
 his is no cold daguerreotype lacking living freshness. How 
 sublime was the idea of standing in Melrose Abbey ! No — 
 it was no idea ! Beneath was the deep-gree.i grass. Over 
 head was the clear, blue summer sky, save now and then 
 a fleecy cloud flitting swiftly on, reminding ine that I must 
 also be gone. Look at the night-scene: 
 
 " If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, 
 
 Go visit it by the pale moonlight ; 
 
 For the gay beams of lightsome day 
 
 Gild, but to flout, the ruins gray. 
 
 When the broken arches are black in night. 
 
 And each shafted oriel glimmers white ; 
 
 When the cold light's uncertain shower 
 
 Streams on the ruined central tower; 
 
 When buttress and buttress alternately, 
 
 Seem framed of ebon and ivory ; 
 
 When silver edges the imagery, 
 
 And the scrolls that teach thee to Live and die ; 
 
 When distant Tweed is heard to rave, 
 
 And the owlet to hoot o'er the dead man's grave, 
 
 8 
 
86 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Then go — but go alone the while — 
 Then view St. David's ruined pile ; 
 And home returning, soothly swear, 
 Was never scene so sad and fair !" 
 
 The soul is 'borne back to distant ages by the sight of 
 this majestic ruin, calling up solemn thought on the muta- 
 bility of human grandeur. 
 
 Abbotsford, on the banks of the classic Tweed, is three 
 miles from Melrose. The road is through a broad, fertile 
 valley, somewhat undulating, bounded by verdant, swelling 
 hills, along the margin of which flows the crystal stream. 
 The entire distance both sides of the way was adorned by 
 hawthorn, whose white and red flowers were yielding up 
 their beautiful reign to wild roses, red and white ; so that 
 the whole summer was enlivened with blooming hedges. 
 What on earth could be more lovely ? It was a terrestrial 
 heaven of beauty and fragrance ! At a place where the 
 road forked off", I chose the most attractive ; and though this 
 is not always the safest way of doing things, in this instance 
 I had no doubt it led to the seat of Sir Walter Scott — and 
 so it did ! I was all alone, and met no one — a fit situation 
 to enjoy the poetry of silence that reigned around the green 
 vales and gently-sloping, far-off" hills, covered with yellow, 
 waving harvests. Now and then the murmurs of the distant 
 Tweed were borne on the light-fluttering breeze, suddenly 
 dying away like the soft whispers of spirit- voices. Did I 
 say I was alone ? I was -wrong. The amiable author of 
 The Seasons was with me everywhere; yet our social con- 
 verse was more frequent and enthusiastic as we wandered 
 nearer his owja native Ednam in Roxburghshire. When I 
 came in sight of the Tweed, he exclaimed — 
 
 "Pure parent stream, 
 Whose pastoral banks first heard my Doric reed ; 
 And sylvan Jed, thy tributary brook!" 
 
 And then there was a long, "expressive silence!" Near 
 yonder woody eminence flows the silver Tweed; and r'ght 
 
VISIT TO ABBOTSFOHD. 87 
 
 behind are the turrets of Ahbotsford. ]\fy heart beat with 
 unwonted quickness as I descended the rough pebbly road, the 
 steep bank over which was covered w^ith a little forest of 
 Scotch firs and wildwood trees, through which the wind 
 breathed in reedy sighs. The path sweeps gracefully round 
 the declivity, and brings me directly in front of Abbotsford. 
 The man who can look at it without emotion is no great 
 affair, and is to be pitied. While passing the gateway a tear 
 would start. Whence this strange agitation? I could hardly 
 muster courage to pull the door-bell, though I knew the 
 master of the mansion was not at home . He has gone to 
 Spirit-Land, and will never come back ! 
 
 The entrance to the hall was a porch in imitation of the 
 Linlithgow palace, and adorned with stag-horns. The walls 
 and roof are panelled of rich carving from the palace of 
 Dumfermline, and hung round with ancient weapons, the 
 cornice being adorned with armorial coats of the Douglases, 
 Maxwells, Scotts, Chisholms, Elliotts, Armstrongs, Kers, and 
 others, A lady in black then conducted me through the 
 armoury, a narrow arched room running across the building, 
 filled with small pieces of armour and weapons in great 
 variety. The drawing-room is a lofty saloon, with antique 
 ebony furniture, splendid carved cabinets and fine pictures'. 
 The roof of the dining-room is of richly carved black oak, 
 and contains many beautiful pictures, of which the most 
 striking are, the head of Queen Mary in a charger, after she 
 was beheaded, full length portraits of Lord Essex, Charles 
 IL, Claverhouse, Charles XII, of Sweden, Cromwell, and one 
 of Scott's great grandfather, who let his beard grow after the 
 execution of Charles I, In this very room Scott died ! The 
 breakfast parlour is small and neat, looking out upon the 
 Tweed below on one side, and the romantic, though rather 
 bald and treeless, hills of Ettrick and Yarrow on the other. 
 The collection of drawings in water-colours in this room 
 from Scottish antiquities, is very inviting. The library is a 
 
gg FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 magnificent room, fifty by sixty, with 20,000 volumes. The 
 roof is of carved oak with pendents, grape-clusters, leaves, 
 and tasteful devices, copied from Melrose and Roslin. Here 
 are busts of Shakspeare, Wordsworth, and other worthies, and 
 one of Sir Walter himself by Chantrey. The study is about 
 half as large as the library. Here is his plain arm chair, 
 covered with glossy black leather, and made of beams of 
 the house in which Wallace was betrayed. A light gallery 
 runs round three sides of the room with only one window, 
 giving the place a lonely, sombre look. From his chamber 
 Scott descended into his study without passing through any 
 other room. Among a thousand curious antiquities are, 
 a Roman camp-kettle 2000 years old;' a shirt of mail worn 
 by Cromwell when reviewing his troops ; a hunting-flask 
 of James I.; Bonaparte's pistols, found in his carriage after 
 the battle of Waterloo; a set of beautifully carved ebony 
 chairs presented by George IV. ; and on a porphyry table is 
 a silver vase filled with bones from Pirseus, the gift of Lord 
 Byron. "Scott was very proud of these chairs, and this 
 table and vase," said the ladylike guide. "And there is the 
 Tweed where Scott loved to fish." Having expressed a wish 
 to try it myself, she said I could get fishing-gear at the lodge 
 hard by: but I soon found my excitement was too great for 
 this cool sport; for though a numerous fry were darting about 
 in the limpid stream, I fancied the fishes of Scotland were 
 uncommonly shy — I hardly got a nibble. 
 
 When Scott purchased this secluded spot thirty years ago, 
 it was wild and unadorned. Abbotsford, with its adjacent 
 grounds, romantic winding walks, and shady bowers, are all 
 the creation of his splendid fancy. A waterfall down a steep 
 neighbouring ravine adds greatly to the romantic effect. 
 
 The declining sun admonished me that I was a sojourner, 
 and must hasten back a-foot to Melrose, to take the railway 
 for Kelso at six. I could not bear to think this was an eternal 
 farewell to one of the most atractive spots in the wide world. 
 
A BLOW-UP— NOBG"nY KILLED. $9 
 
 Full of Melrose and Abbotsford, -which I had seen that 
 day, and the dancing panorama of the hills that seemed to be 
 "joyful before the Lord," it would not be strange if this fit 
 of abstraction should lead to some mistake. The names of 
 the several railway stations were successively announced, it 
 is true, but with a nasal, drawling, monotonous twang; and 
 so I got punished for not understanding Gaelic, which I 
 never studied till I came to Scotland. One might expect to 
 hear something like an English accent to our language, but 
 not one American in a thousand would identify any of the 
 twenty-six letters as pronounced by the uneducated. Who 
 under heaven would suspect Ke-al-se meant Kelso? On 
 inquiry how far we were from that place, I was petrified 
 with surprise to learn that we had gone off in a tangent upon 
 another road w^hich parts off near St. Boswell's, leaving me 
 at Hassendean. fifteen miles out of my way. Vexation! 
 I blew up the railroad — the company I mean — somebody, 
 anybody, everybody, especially the murderers of the Queen's 
 English. One might suppose Michael Scott possessed me. 
 Where were my trunks ? Nobody knew. I refused to quit 
 the carriage without them, not thinking — I had no time to 
 think — that another hour w^ould land me in England, and 
 leave them still farther off in Scotland, somewhere. In any 
 event mine was an anomalous position. What the reader 
 would have done is more than I can say. Possibly he may 
 call it unpardonable carelessness — he would have had m.uch 
 more self-possession. Hardly, if he had just seen Melrose 
 and Abbotsford, the first time too. We are all wise when 
 we know just what to do. yes — perhaps he would show 
 as much philosophy and cool presence of mind as the Quaker 
 did, who, as the story goes, when crossing the Irish Channel, 
 as he was clinging to the rigging during a raging storm, all 
 hands expecting every moment to go the bottom, called out 
 with laughable coolness — " Friend ! should we escape death 
 this time, canst thou inform me when the next packet will 
 
90 FIRST VISIT TO EUHOPE. 
 
 sail for Liverpool ?" " You must get out here !" said the 
 master of ceremonies ; and suiting the action to the word, 
 landed me on the platform in a trice. Here I had a plenty 
 of time to get cool, and heing fond of natural scenery, had the 
 infinite satisfaction of gazing on a landscape of pristine 
 beauty, yet without a single house within three miles of 
 Hassendean station, and just at sunset too. Off flew the train 
 over the plain, and in a few moments glided out of sight. 
 
 "Ah me ! abandon'd on the lonesome plain !" 
 
 An apology was due Mr. Kirkwood for any undue excite- 
 ment — his seeming harshness was needful decision; but he, 
 good soul, and gentleman as he was, got me a free passage 
 in a farmer's ox-cart, three miles back to the rural town of 
 Denholm, the birthplace of Dr. John Leyden the poet, and 
 friend of Sir Walter Scott. When we reached the town, all 
 inquiries for lodgement were answered m the same comfort- 
 ing Gaelic — "I dinna ken whar!" In buying anything to 
 eat the question was — "How mickle?'' At last my friend 
 of the ox-cart found a family who lodged me handsomely 
 for the night in a small cottage, there being no hotel in the 
 town. I was delighted with the lovely solitude and peerless 
 beauty of the wide-spread landscape, the silver Teviot bend- 
 ing gracefully through the quiet vale around a romantic 
 wood-crowned acclivity, where it turns a grist-mill. O ! it 
 was inspiring as the groves of Academus on the banks of 
 Cephissus. One unsightly blot, however, was the mean 
 thatched huts which sordid economy and a villanous taste — 
 or rather, no taste at all — had lately ranged round the open 
 lawn in the centre of the little village : thus spoiling this 
 once beautiful and healthful promenade. Little can be said 
 in praise of Scottish towns; but the morality and industrious 
 habits of the Scotch are above all praise. 
 
 Next morning, bright and early, I was on my way back ■'o 
 the railway. While crossing the suspension bridge ever the 
 
JEDBURGH AND DRYBTJRGH. 91 
 
 Teviot, what should I see but the same ox-team wading the 
 shallow stream, when the kind-hearted driver invited me to 
 take a seat in his rustic accommodation line while "going 
 forth to his labour until the evening;" and a pleasanter 
 jaunting-car need not be desired. The sun was just rising 
 over the green and fertile region of Teviotdale. forming a 
 summer landscape of peaceful beauty, bright, glowing and 
 luxuriant as the happy valley of Rasselas ; while a few flying 
 clouds, fleecy white, enlivened the blue sky. Greece and 
 Italy I have not seen, but inwardly asked myself how they 
 could afford finer pictures than Dryburgh and Jedburgh? 
 The driver pointed to Lord Minto's park and mansion, a 
 paradise on a long green slope, beautified with groves ; but 
 it was unpleasant to think of such large estates of overgrown 
 wealth being owned by one man. Mr. K. kindly gave me a 
 free ticket to Kelso, and I had no cause to regret this novel 
 adventure after all ; for I found one of my trunks at one place, 
 and the other at Kelso. " All's well that ends well." 
 
 Denholm is only half a dozen miles from Jedburgh and 
 Dryburgh ; but my situation did not admit of more than a 
 few glimpses at Jedburgh and its beautiful woody vales, 
 gardens, orchards, and steep sylvan banks. Its abbey and 
 castle on an eminence are very picturesque. The castle was 
 a favourite residence of the early Scottish kings from David 
 I. to Alexander II. Here Malcolm IV. died. The house 
 where Queen Mary resided during a dangerous illness of 
 several weeks, is still remaining. The south aisle of Jed- 
 burgh Abbey was once occupied as a grammar school, where 
 Thomson the poet received the rudiments of his education, 
 after his father removed from Ednam to Southdean on the 
 Jed. It is not generally known that when the poet was at 
 Edinburgh University he was a bursar of the Presbytery of 
 Jedburgh. On the banks of the Jed are many caves dug out 
 of rocks, supposed to be hiding-places in the old wars. About 
 a mile from the castle is an ancient and enormous oak, called 
 
22 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 " the king of the wood," and near the ruin is another equally- 
 large, called "the capon tree," both mentioned in Gilpin's 
 Forest Scenery. 
 
 Dryhurgh Abbey is eminently beautiful, embosomed with 
 trees, and was also founded by David I. in 1150, who seems 
 to have outdone every king before and after him in the num- 
 ber and splendour of his abbeys. In St. Mary's aisle is 
 entombed Sir Walter Scott, who died September, 1832. On 
 an eminence near the Tweed is a circular Temple of the 
 Muses, surmounted by a bust of Thomson. An annual com- 
 memoration of his fame was instituted at Ednam, but has 
 long fallen into disuse. Burns wrote the first "Ode to the 
 Shade of Thomson, on crowning his Bust with Bays.-' On 
 a rugged eminence is a colossal statue of Wallace, Near the 
 junction of the Tweed and Teviot are the fragments of the 
 once powerful Roxburgh Castle. On a commanding eminence 
 opposite is Fleurs Castle, the seat of the Duke of Roxburgh. 
 The spot where James II. was killed by the bursting of a can- 
 non is marked by a holly on the opposite bank. 
 
 The environs of Kelso are beautifully painted in Leyden's 
 "Scenes of Infancy:" 
 
 Eosom'ci in wood where mighty rivers run, 
 Kelso's fair vale expands before the sun, 
 Its rising downs in vernal beauty swell, 
 And, fring'd with hazel, winds each flowery delL 
 Green spangled plains to dimpling lawns succeed, 
 And Tempe rises on the banks of Tweed ; 
 Blue o'er the river Kelso's shadow flies. 
 And copse-clad isles amid the waters rise. 
 
 A bridge over the river leads directly into the town. The 
 confluence of the Tweed and Teviot is at Kelso. Its venera- 
 ble abbey, founded in 1128 by David I. is in Norman Gothic, 
 and was demolished by the English in 1545, leaving part of 
 the walls and central tower. The gloomy fragments look as 
 if ready to tumble down, affording a dreary and majestic 
 picture, throwing its long shadows far back into the Past. 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 iBtinam, fi)e aSirti)|)lace of t|)e 3Poet E^omBon. 
 
 A rural church ; some scatter'd cottage roofs, 
 
 From whose secluded hearths the thin blue smoke 
 
 Silently "wreathing through the breezeless air, 
 
 Ascended, mingling with the summer sky ; 
 
 A rustic bridge, mossy and weather-stained ; 
 
 A fairy streamlet singing to itself, 
 
 And here and there a venerable tree, 
 
 In foliaged beauty : of these elements. 
 
 And only these, the simple scene was formed. 
 
 Moir. 
 
 Ednam, the birthplace of the poet of The Seasons, is in 
 Roxburghshire, three miles from Kelso. Everybody visits 
 Kelso Abbey, though but few -w-ill walk that short distance 
 farther. Devotees have made pilgrimages to the shrines of 
 saints — the Moslem to Mecca, the knight-errant to the Holy 
 Sepulchre; but what pilgrims has the shrine of Genius, 
 where Fashion has not set up her altar ? Here and there a 
 straggler, perhaps, like myself, from a far-off land; but 
 thousands, millions, will hold up their hands at a passage 
 from Thomson, when quoted by some fashionable gentleman 
 at an evening party, because now-a-days it is hardly fashion- 
 able not to be literary, and yet pass within a mile of his 
 birthplace as carelessly as the very beasts they ride. Heaven 
 save the mark ! Fashion seems to regard the obscure town 
 of Ednam as a kind of poetical Nazareth, quite unworthy of 
 attention. I remember having expressed my wonder in a 
 Glasgow bookstore, that Thomson was not more generally 
 known and estimated. The bookseller clinched my remark 
 by adroitly asking — "Have you seen Burns' m.onument at 
 Ayr?" "No — I regret being obliged to content myself with 
 a picture of it !" " 0, you should see it by all means," said 
 
94 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 he. "Yes, but there are a thousand such "beautiful things 
 in Britain — it would take a life-time to see the half." But 
 neither he nor any one that I remember, asked if 1 had seen 
 Thomson's, if there is any but the plain one at his birthplace. 
 This indifference is not owing so much to ignorance as a 
 peculiar taste. "Why," continued I, " Thomson is on every 
 one's shelf in America, of the least pretensions to taste ; but 
 in Scotland, where he should be honoured the most, there is 
 no warm enthusiasm about him : yet every one kindles at 
 the name of Burns — it is all Burns, Burns, as if there were 
 no other poet in the world — how is this?" The bookseller 
 seemed himself at a loss, observing — "Well, I don't know — 
 Burns wrote for the people ; and besides, I believe Thomson 
 spent most of his time in England." "He went there like 
 Goldsmith, when well grown up, for patronage — that would 
 be a capital reason for slighting Goldsmith — does not every 
 Irishman's eye brighten at the sound of his name?" A lady 
 who stood by addressed me, saying, "Excuse me. Sir, but 
 I think the diffusion of the light and frothy literature of the 
 day has produced the effect you speak of." "Thank you, 
 Madam — ^the truest word ever spoken. I admire the fine 
 genius of Biirns, but think his publisher should have sup- 
 pressed some of his coarsest pieces." "You have spoken 
 my own mind, "^ aid the lady. I felt a little proud of being 
 defended by a lady of such fine address. I may add, that 
 Burns was himself an enthusiastic admirer of Thomson. 
 
 The road to Ednam is very pleasant, as it gently ascends, 
 with a high wall and hedge on both sides, till it becomes 
 a rather uniform plain. On both sides of the road were elms 
 and tall ashes with long smooth trunks, at some distance 
 apart, relieving the monotony very much, as there ^rere but 
 few other trees. The land was rich and productive, judging 
 from the luxuriant meadows and harvest fields. On the left 
 was the little village of Berrymoss, which I at first mistook 
 for Rdnam. The appearanee of the place was much as I 
 
A WALK TO EDNAM. " 95 
 
 had imagined — solitary, lonesome, melancholy, and still — 
 I sought no higher characteristics in the birthplace of the 
 Author of The Seasons. Here was no hurry-scurry and din 
 of men, boys, dogs and vehicles. I was alone ! Hallowed 
 associations arose at every footstep. The God of Nature has 
 so strung the soul with fine chords that they vibrate in the 
 softest wind. As I drew nearer and nearer to the humble 
 abode where the great poet of Nature and observation first 
 saw the light, " a severe delight" thrilled my whole soul. 
 They were -natural and spontaneous feelings, and I could 
 not repress them if I would, and would not if I could. 
 
 Stopping at the first house, (there were but two or three on 
 the way,) I inquired of two old women for the house where 
 James Thomson was born, saying I had come all the way 
 from America to see it. They looked at me with interest 
 and surprise, as if I were a spirit from the other world — and 
 they were not wide of the mark — when one of them said — 
 " I dinna ken such a mon !" The other said — " Maybe ye'll 
 be after thinkin' of an auld mon o' the name o' White that 
 
 writ verses " With a feeling of chagrin I told her I 
 
 didn't care a baubee for the aforesaid White, prompting her 
 memory and understanding in every way. It was of no 
 use — it was a dumb oracle. The truth flashed on me that 
 this was the same White that Mr. Howitt speaks of — an old 
 man they told him about who used to make verses under the 
 trees in the churchyard ; but nobody could tell him anything 
 more about the poet than they did me. A well dressed man 
 I met afterward astonished me more than ever by asking 
 me if Thomson were " alive yet !" I told him he had been 
 dead just one hundred and two years ! My mortification 
 was inexpressible at such ignorance in Scotland. One of 
 the sweetest poets in the world, almost unknown in his own 
 town, where I thought his name was familiar as household 
 words. " Such is fame !" The schoolmaster is not abroad; 
 but if he should be. it is to be hoped the authorities of Ednam 
 
96 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 parish will engage him to "board round." At last I met an 
 intelligent man on the road, with whom I had a few minutes' 
 conversation. He observed, that of the hundreds that came 
 to Kelso the week past, scarce half a dozen condescended to 
 walk a couple of miles farther to Ednam. At a humble 
 thatched cottage by the roadside I obtained a little light. 
 The kind and social inmates had often heard of the poet. In 
 a corner of the damp room lay a young woman quite ill of an 
 ague, to whom I gave such advice as duty and experience 
 prompted. They offered me some excellent milk ^id oatmeal 
 bread, and I went on my way to the bridge over the Eden, 
 a streamlet called by Burns "Eden's flood," but instead of 
 the rustic wooden bridge, "mossy and weather-stained," that 
 bestrid the brook a few years ago, there is now a good 
 stone one. The little village lies on the banks of this stream. 
 Over the bridge are a few straw-thatched cottages and one 
 or two more respectable dwellings, on the main street which 
 runs at aright angle with the bridge road. I inquired of the 
 tavern-keeper for the house where the poet was born, and 
 was directed to the adjacent school-house. When the school- 
 master opened the door, my ears were greeted with the 
 tumultuous noise of all the children studying their lessons 
 aloLid. The sight and the sound of this village school made 
 me feel young again ! The master sent me to the manse, 
 a neat square brick building occupied by Mr. Lamb, who 
 showed me every attention, and was pleased to have the 
 opportunity of giving me the minutest information, best 
 obtained by conversation on the spot. He said the house 
 where Thomson was supposed to be born was torn down, and 
 the present school-house stands on its site. It is doubtful, 
 however, whether he was born there or in the old school- 
 house on the opposite side of the street, occupied by a poor 
 family. Tradition says he was born in the parlour, in a 
 recess concealed by a curtain. I knocked at the door and 
 passed the threshold. " Ednam can Dnly boast of his birth," 
 
THOMSON'S ORIGINAL PICTURE. 97 
 
 said Mr. Lam"b; "for he was transferred to Southdean when 
 two years old : and though Ancrum moor, a few miles from 
 Ednam, is the scene of a famous battle in 1545, when the 
 English were defeated by the Scots, Ancrum has obtained a 
 better celebrity as the residence of our poet, who remained 
 for some time with Mr. Cranstoun the clergyman, at the 
 manse." Mr. L. showed me his miniature in an oval case, 
 from the original painting by Slaughter, in the collection 
 of the Earl of Buchan. He is painted in a light brown coat 
 with a low collar, red velvet tiara, and a narrow white 
 cravat tied behind — old-fashioned enough. This picture was 
 a long time the prototype for the various prints prefixed to 
 The Seasons, and was sent to Lord Buchan by Mr. Cooper 
 iu 1812. It was easy to see how, in the gradual perfection 
 of modern engraving, subsequent copies have grown into a 
 feminine beauty and sweetness of expression ; for the original 
 has a bold dignity and manly independence tinged with sour- 
 ness: yet he was an amiable man. Mr. L, wished me to 
 sketch it; but alas ! I was no artist. On the reverse was 
 written — 
 
 " For the Ednam Club — To be preserved in the manse of Ednarai. 
 "22d September, 1818. Buchan." 
 
 Followed by a stanza from his brilliant Castle of Indolence. 
 The ''rural church" has been torn down since the poet's 
 day, and the Ednamites ought to have the credit of erecting 
 on its site the most unpoetical, ugly, inconvenient, jail-like 
 apology for a church ever contrived by mortal ingenuity. On 
 its outside wall in the churchyard, is an inscription to the 
 memory of some person of note, "who died at Edenham;" 
 possibly the architect — another Sir Christopher Wren ! The 
 ancient name of the town was Edenham, gradually abridged 
 into Ednam. Hence the name of the river Eden which runs 
 through the vale. Mr. L. informed me that a certain lady 
 of rank adheres with tenacity to the ancient name in the 
 direction of her letters. 
 9 
 
98 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Writers disagree as to whether Ednam possesses much of 
 the picturesque; as if its great charm depended on anything 
 so much as asssociation. Though comparatively tame, much 
 of its surrounding scenery has an air of quiet rural beauty 
 altogether delightful. On taking leave, Mr, Lamb said that 
 if I would ascend the graceful arching slope by the neigh- 
 bouring roadside I would get a very fine view. From this 
 eminence the landscape is quite animating, embracing the 
 famous triform Eildon Hills, where there are remains of 
 an ancient Roman camp. The view includes part of Rox- 
 burghshire, Berwickshire, and Northumberland. 
 
 With deep emotion, which will perhaps find a response in 
 some few minds, I prepared to leave this peaceful vale, and 
 crossing the Eden, heard its tinkling music for the last time. 
 On a swell a quarter of a mile from the village, is a plain 
 cenotaph, a four-sided cone thirty feet high, of drab stone — 
 
 "Erected 
 
 In memory of 
 
 JAMES THOMSON, 
 
 Author of the Seasons, 
 
 Born at Ednam, 
 11th September, 1700." 
 
 The still seclusion of this sylvan inclosure was an inviting 
 place of repose ; and on awaking from fitful dreams of home— 
 with a melancholy pleasure that can never be transferred to 
 another mind, and the Seasons open before me, I then 
 
 "Through Eden took my solitary way." 
 
 Thomson was the poet of my boyhood. His rare and origi- 
 nal minstrelsy never fails by its natural and majestic pomp, 
 pure sentiment, calm philosophy and vivid pictures of Nature, 
 to engage the contemplative mind. It is too late in the day 
 to eulogize such a poet, and would be an affront to refined 
 sense. Notwithstanding the universal popularity of The 
 Seasons, his gorgeous Castle of Indolence is more praised 
 ^han read by the educated. What is there in all English 
 
LAST LOOK AT EDNAM. 99 
 
 poetry like either ? The Seasons have circulated through 
 the length and treadth of Britain and America in every 
 dress and form, from the humblest and cheapest to the most 
 costly, attractive and embellished. A judicious critic has 
 observed, that " from Dry den to Thomson there is scarcely a 
 rural image drawn from life in any of the English poets, 
 except Gay ;" and he is no great affair. Nothwithstanding the 
 various changes in poetic taste during a hundred years, 
 The Seasons have stood the test of ages, unaffected by the 
 ■wildfires that flame across their orbit, agitate the heavens 
 awhile, and die. They will delight the world while "seed- 
 time and harvest, summer and winter" continue their rounds. 
 His Seasons never change. 
 
 Those who neglect Thomson, or praise Burns at his ex- 
 pense, will find no sympathy in these fine stanzas of Burns : 
 
 While virgin Spring, by Eden's flood, 
 
 Unfolds her tender mantle green, 
 Or pranks the sod in frolic mood, 
 
 Or tunes jEolian strains between ; 
 
 While Summer with a matron grace 
 
 Retreats to Dryburgh's cooling shade, 
 Yet oft, delighted, stops to trace 
 • The progress of the spiky blade ; 
 
 While Autnmn, benefactor kind, 
 By Tweed erects his aged head, 
 And sees, with self-approving mind, 
 Each creature on his bounty fed ; 
 
 While maniac Winter rages o'er 
 
 The hills whence classic Yarrow flows, 
 Rousing the turbid torrent's roar. 
 
 Or sweeping, wild, a waste of snows ; 
 
 So long, sweet poet of the year ! 
 
 Shall bloorn that wreath thou well hast won ; 
 While Scotia, with exulting tear, 
 
 Proclaims that Thomson Avas her son ! 
 
CHAPTER XI. 
 
 aSertofcIt— Newcastle— Yorfe—i^ancljester—Stratfortr—l^enp 
 iltDortD— 3Lici)«eltr— ?^at:rcito*oti-tDe-?^ni. 
 
 The cottage homes of England 
 By thousands on her plains ! 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 From Kelso to Sprouston, on the banks of the Tweed, it 
 is two miles, by coach. A mile farther the Eden joins the 
 Tweed, which forms the boundary of England and Scotland. 
 I am now in Berwickshire. The rest of the way is by rail- 
 road to Berwick-on-Tweed,: which empties into the German 
 Ocean. Taking a final glance at the blue pyramidal cones 
 of Eildon Hills, whose peculiar aspect on the distant plain 
 is so indelibly impressive, we soon leave behind us the ruins 
 of Wark Castle, so noted in the border wars; and the Earl of 
 Home's seat. Coldstream, just over the English line, is 
 famous for runaway marriages, another Gretna Green, the 
 Rubicon of life. Here is a very pretty bridge, which might 
 be called " the bridge of sighs."' Lord Brougham wastnarried 
 at a tavern here, but I was not informed whether his was a 
 runaway match. Castles and feudal ruins are strewed all 
 along the way to Berwick. Lees is the name of Sir William 
 Majoribanks' seat. Beneath Twisel Castle is the ancient 
 bridge by which the English passed over the river before 
 the battle of Flodden-Field, described in Scott's Marmion: 
 
 They crossed the Till by Twisel bridge, 
 High sight it is, and haughty, while 
 They dive into the deep defile ; 
 Ueneach the cavern'd cliff they fall, 
 Beneath the castle's airy wall. 
 
 Swinton village gets its name from one of the Swintons, 
 who cleared the neighbourhood of all the wild swine. In 
 my country there is a rich field of labour for an eighth cham- 
 
NORHAM CASTLE. JOl 
 
 pion of Christendom. This hero figures in the Lay of the 
 Last Minstrel, and Scott has dramatized the heroism of 
 another of this warlike family at the battle of Homildon Hill 
 in 1402. At Ladykirk, near Berwick, is an old chapel built 
 by James IV. to fulfil a vow to the Virgin, while in danger 
 from crossing the Tweed. By this ford the English and 
 Scottish armies made mutual invasions. In an adjacent 
 field, Holywell Haugh, Edward L and the Scottish nobles 
 met to settle the dispute between Bruce and Baliol, about 
 the crown. But by far the most interesting object to me was 
 Norham Castle, of which I had a glorious view. Its feudal 
 towers rising above embowering trees, on the top of a hill, 
 whose slopes were decorated with velvet lawns and green 
 groveSj afibrded a luxuriant picture. This castle is famous 
 in border history, which Scott has beautifully refined in 
 the first canto of Marmion : 
 
 Day set on Norham's castled steep, 
 And Tweed's fair river, broad and deep, 
 
 And Cheviot's mountains lone ; 
 The battled towers, the donjon keep, 
 The loop-hole grates where captives weep, 
 The flanking walls that round them sweep, 
 
 In yellow lustre shone. 
 
 Near this castle is a beautiful suspension bridge between 
 four and five hundred feet long, rising over the water seventy 
 feet. A few miles north is Ninewells, the patrimonial seat 
 of David Hume, the historian : and at Halidon Hill, a great 
 battle was fought in 1333, when the Scots were defeated 
 by the English. These few historic gems are none the less 
 valuable for having been picked up by the wayside instead 
 of being purchased at the shops. The highways and by- 
 ways of England and Scotand are full of them. 
 
 Berwick, twenty-three miles from Kelso, though anciently 
 of some historic renown, is now a place of not much import- 
 ance. The town is on a steep acclivity, and though rather 
 well built, the houses look as old as the very hill on which 
 9* 
 
102 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the city stands. Its population is less than 10.000, and the 
 chief trade is in salmon. Apropos of fish — ^besides the fine- 
 flavoured fresh herring and salmon, they have the sole and 
 turbot, which have never ventured into our waters. The 
 Tweed is fairly alive with salmon, and is let out in portions 
 for fishing by the year at round rents. But we will wait till 
 we get to Billingsgate ordinary in London, and then discuss 
 these fishes along with the tempting "white-bait" with which 
 landlords lie in wait to catch hungry customers. Berwick 
 is surrounded by ancient walls, which were fortified till of 
 late years. The famous castle is now a pile of ruins. I took 
 a stroll over the old bridge and ascended the highest part of 
 the town, coming round by the new railway bridge of stone, 
 not then finished. It is very long, with numerous high arches, 
 a grand specimen of bridge architecture. Tweedmouth here 
 expands into the German Ocean. The atmosphere was chilly, 
 yet everything looked beautifully verdant. 
 
 My way to Newcastle, England, was by railway along 
 the coast of Northumberland, through some fifteen beautiful 
 towns ; an occasional view opened out on the blue, boundless 
 expanse of the German Ocean, with here and there a ship 
 that looked like a small white feather in the far-off eastern 
 horizon. Northumberland is quite level, unlike Yorkshire 
 for bold scenery. Like the rest of England, how often has 
 it been ravaged by sword and flame ! Every spot along the 
 way has its history, which might be indefinitely expanded. 
 
 Just fancy me now in a railway carriage — heigho ! — off 
 for Old England again — the only passenger for thirty miles ! 
 What means this ? Hitherto the cars were crowded. What ! 
 not even one to tell me the names of numerous castles and 
 seats which lay along either side? I had fine views of them 
 as they swept by, and took in exhilarating draughts of the 
 blue pictures in the circling horizon. The very idea of going 
 through the length and breadth of England, with London for 
 the goal, inspired me with a new life. 
 
THINGS IN NEWCASTLE. 103 
 
 Before reaching Newcastle-on-Tyne the cause of my being 
 alone hegan to appear, for all the world and some more had 
 been at the Newcastle races ; and passengers were coming 
 in at the numerous stopping-places. The distant city was 
 overhung by a prodigious cloud of smoke, 
 
 " the eclipse 
 That metropolitan volcanoes make, 
 Whose Stygian throats breathe darkness all day long," 
 
 Creating feelings as gloomy as the sombre appearance. It 
 was dark when I reached Newcastle, and it seemed as if 
 three quarters of the lords of creation were intoxicated, reel- 
 ing and pitching about like a ship in a storm, presenting a 
 singular contrast to anything I had seen in England. An 
 earthquake could not have produced more staggering, and 
 the sight was equally shocking. The "buss" drivers were 
 as civil as copious potations could make them — models of 
 independence ; for they and the porters that could be found 
 refused the usual fees with disdain : so that after an hour of 
 vexatious delay, I told them I was independent too ; and 
 carried my luggage to a tavern, one of the trunks weighing 
 a hundred pounds. They stared at me as though doubtful 
 of the result; and I felt more surprise at my strength than 
 Samson did when he carried off the gates of Gaza. The fine 
 June air of Old England had done wonders for a shattered 
 constitution. 
 
 Instead of spending a day at Newcastle I determined to 
 quit at five next morning, but was near being left; for the 
 "buss" man did not come as he agreed. Two wayfarers, 
 however, happened along, and were easily pressed into the 
 American service, conveying my luggage two miles to Gates- 
 head, the station for York. 
 
 One feature of the British railway system is decidedly 
 bad. Fifteen minutes before the trains start, the booking- 
 office opens, and the confusion becomes general. Owing to 
 the immense numbers, tickets for York were obtained with 
 
104 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 difficulty. On the instant of taking my seat, a man of savage 
 manners insisted on v\-eighing my luggage, (as it is called in 
 England,) containing no merchandise, a thing not required 
 of me before. I had to submit to Mr. Shy lock, but the risk 
 of losing my passage was more annoying than the loss of 
 an extra dollar, for my ticket would not be good another day. 
 Nothing pleases me more than to say that this graceless act 
 was a solitary case : the courtesy of British railway and 
 packet officers is worthy of imitation elsewhere. How I pre- 
 vented John Bull from heading me off or getting roimd me 
 the second time, is a secret worth knowing. But here is 
 trouble ! A set of well-dressed bullies returning from the 
 races to London, with abundance of cash and impudence, 
 made up their minds that nobody else should enter that 
 carriage, stretching their legs over several unoccupied seats. 
 Indignant at this gross violation of all decency, I insisted 
 on the porter opening the door, which he finally did. My 
 feelings were controlled as much as self-respect would jus- 
 tify, at an attempt to prevent my taking a seat, which I did 
 in spite of the whole gang. "There now — you've got a 
 seat!" said one. "You needn't tell me that — but I don't 
 thank you for it," I replied triumphantly. These noisy 
 demons made the railway carriage very unpleasant. No 
 newspaper was needed to proclaim the events of yesterday. 
 Finally they fell to quarrelling among themselves. One of 
 the noisiest at last fell asleep, and the others were playing 
 tricks on him nearly all the way, occasionally singing out 
 lustily, in imitation of the railway officers (who require a 
 sight of tickets at the stations) — " Tickets please ! — tickets ! 
 tickets !" He would awake slowly, fumble about for his 
 ticket, and then drop into the arms of Morpheus. To give 
 variety to their mischievous sport, they would tickle his 
 nose with twisted bits of paper, when he awoke in a trans- 
 port of wrath, swinging his cane hither and thither, swearing 
 vengeance. Who could help being ainused at the solemn 
 
YORK MINSTER. 105 
 
 air of his tormentor, who looked full in his face with a mix- 
 ture of innocence and indignation, while all the passengers 
 were ready to explode with laughter — " Me ! — did you ever 
 know me to take such a liberty?'' The improvement of 
 horses and these horse- amateurs seemed to be in inverse 
 proportion. To pass over such vicious folly with dignified 
 contempt would not he giving a true picture of things. It 
 is just to add, that they never annoyed me after taking my 
 seat, and I freely forgave their thoughtless insult. I was 
 glad to get out at York, and these cockney gentlemen went 
 on to London. The railroad passed under the ancient walls ! 
 I went directly to York Minster, the wonder of the world. 
 It is twice as large as I had imagined. After a deliberate 
 survey, I concluded that our famous Trinity in Broadway 
 would just about fill the choir ! The arches I understood 
 the verger to say, were a hundred and eighty-eight feet high. 
 From a careful Yankee guess, I should say the Gothic pillars 
 that support the roof were thirty-five feet in circumference, 
 and in the centre of this prodigious pile it was two hundred 
 and thirty-two feet ! The entire structure covers some half 
 dozen acres, and for gigantic proportions has no rivai. The 
 splendour of its stained glass windows, chaste and elaborate 
 carvings and beautiful statuary, filled me with amazement, 
 for I was not yet wonder-proof. Under the largest window, 
 as big as the end of an ordinary church, are heads of Christ 
 and his twelve apostles, chiselled from stone ; on the numer- 
 ous projections are busts : and superb statues stand in the 
 numberless niches. The cloisters contain many monuments, 
 knights in armour, archbishops, and bishops, on canopied 
 thrones. The sexton's chair in one of the chapels is nearly 
 1100 years old. In this chair were crowned Richard III., 
 James VI. and other kings. Here are kept, besides many 
 relics older than the cathedral itself, the coronation robes of 
 King James. The round window called the Marygold is 
 not less than eighty-one feet in circumference ! Anothei 
 
106 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 large one is called the Five Sisters, each of the five divisions 
 being of different design, painted at the expense of five sisters 
 who presented it to the Minster. The very sight of the majes- 
 tic organ with five thousand pipes gives imagination a lofty 
 impress of the solemn grandeur of the thunder-notes that roll 
 along the cathedral arches. Description is beggarly. Any 
 better idea of the magnificence of this immense pile cannot 
 be given than the following incident. Mr. Catlin, the Ameri- 
 can painter, told me in Edinburgh I must by all means see 
 York Minster. " I took," said he, " a party of Indians into it — 
 (you know they never express surprise,) and yet, when they 
 entered, all instantly lifted up their hands in awful astonish- 
 ment, breathing a low- whispered hush, as if fearful that their 
 deep-struck imagination might break out into words ! On 
 coming out they said to me, ' We never thought anything of 
 the white man's religion before !' " At the bottom of the 
 richly-carved organ-screen are costly statues of the kings 
 of England from William the Conqueror to Henry VII. This 
 mighty cathedral is reared on the foundations of the old 
 Norman church, built in 626 by Edwin, the Saxon king of 
 Northumberland — more than twelve centuries ago ! It took 
 fire in 1829 and in 1840, but its effects are not visible. 
 
 In Clifford's tower, said to be built by the Romans, was 
 confined " Isaac of York," the Jew of Ivanhoe. It is inclosed 
 by a wall for preservation, and the ascent to the city walls 
 is by a winding stone stairway. From the top I had a full 
 view of the Abbey, now a solitary pile of white stone, one 
 of the most imposing ruins in all England; the old Nunnery, 
 and York Minster, which a mile off looks like two cathedrals, 
 from the gigantic proportions of the square, gray towers. 
 
 York Castle is a neat round building, where felons are 
 confined, who are allowed to intermingle, and amuse them- 
 selves by reading, and a teacher comes to set them copies. 
 Here is the very skull of the man murdered by Eugene 
 Aram, dug up in Yorkshire fourteen years afterward. The 
 
ANTIQUITIES OF YORK. 107 
 
 sight created a cold shudder, and spoke like awful thunder — 
 "Murder will out !" Here are many other relics, such as 
 busts of notable murderers, and the irons which confined the 
 famous Dick Turpin. Here was imprisoned the poet Mont- 
 gomery, a noble spirit, for publishing a patriotic song on the 
 destruction of the Bastile, written by a clergyman of Belfast; 
 and here he wrote his Prison Amusements in 1795. 
 
 But let us go up on the walls that compass the city three 
 miles round. A lady of York told me I would be well paid 
 by a walk round them, and she said true — there was a 
 volume of meaning in the words "well paid !" The river 
 Ouse I passed by an oar-boat. The old gates and posterns 
 still remain. On Micklegate Bar were exposed the heads of 
 traitors and other victims in the olden time. The walls were 
 a mighty bulwark in sieges and battles : their average height 
 appeared to be fifty feet, with a sloping embankment covered 
 with velvet greensward. The inside is steep, preventing all 
 access to the beautiful gardens below. The promenade on 
 the walls is about six feet vride. In the parapet are numer- 
 ous embrasures for cannon. These remarkable walls are 
 in better preservation than those of Chester, which are more 
 ancient. From the top of these wonderful barriers the view 
 of the surrounding country is glorious — an undulating and 
 diversified landscape covered with living verdure, while the 
 curling smoke rose from many a distant rural homestead, 
 or statelier mansion, till the borders of this rich picture were 
 lost in a blue veil of smoky haze. ! it was a beautiful 
 sight ! I could have gazed the livelong day, and nothing 
 could ha.v6 reconciled me to leave it but the thought that all 
 England is one vast garden, and that wherever I went there 
 would be something beautiful. No one who has been to Eng- 
 land will wonder at the strong feeling of many travellers. 
 Some vdio have not seen that country may call their enthu- 
 siasm a rhapsody, or the dreams of an over-heated fancy : 
 \t,t who can overdraw the beautiful scenery of England? — 
 
108 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the bold, rugged, variegated hills of Yorkshire, Derbyshire, 
 or that paradise of England, the Isle of Wight? 
 
 The history of the city of York is full of strange interest. 
 It was a great Roman station. Vestiges of the old Roman 
 road from York to Scotland, are still seen. Here died the 
 Emperor Severus after three years' residence, and was suc- 
 ceeded by his sons Caracalla and Geta, and the former 
 murdered the latter and fled to Rome. Carausius landed 
 in Britain a hundred years after, and was proclaimed Em- 
 peror of Rome at York. Here Const antine the Great was 
 born in 272: and here his father died in 307. York is a 
 place of some trade, and there is a great influx of visiters to 
 the races and assizes. The second son of the sovereign takes 
 the title Duke of York. 
 
 After a five hours' visit, I took the parliamentary train 
 for Normanton, where the railways diverge to York, Leeds, 
 London and Manchester. I often chose these cheap trains, 
 which the Government requires all companies to run once a 
 day ; for I was alone, and did not wish to travel so swiftly as 
 to lose sight of all the beautiful pictures on the way — the 
 constant succession of hill and dale, spires, groves, streams, 
 and glittering towns : and besides, though the wings of all my 
 American eagles had been handsomely clipped when they 
 were transformed into sovereigns, yet as soon as I held one 
 of them out to light, its wings would flap instinctively, and 
 fly away as fast as any other captive. I had a few Victorias, 
 and these were husbanded — a sovereign remedy for a rainy 
 day — good letters of introduction: one can never want a 
 friend with a British queen at his command. 
 
 The other parliamentary trains by which I had travelled 
 were comfortable, except this joggling wriggler, without any 
 cover from the rain, which now came on. The proprietors 
 deserve credit for more than Yankee sagacity in constructing 
 a car that no one would enter the second time unless from 
 necessity. The object is to force people to take the expensive 
 
RAILWAY TUNNELS— WAKEFIELD. 109 
 
 trains. There we were, dripping wet, like so many sheep 
 going to market, all of us right glad when this car reached its 
 destiny at Normanton, where I remained a couple of hours. 
 On taking a decent train for Manchester, the same difficulty 
 occurred in getting a ticket as at Newcastle; for when I 
 had elbowed my way through the solid mass of humanity 
 .ip to the ticket-room, a word could not he shoved in edge- 
 ways. All spoke together; and French politeness was out 
 of the question. "A ticket — ticket. Sir! — here's my half 
 sovereign!" The young ticket man inside ansv\'ered one 
 of the gentleman who pitched his voice loud enough to be 
 leard, " Don't you know it's not polite to interrupt gentle- 
 men in conversation?" And then there was a loud laugh 
 all round at the expense of the polite ticket-vender. 
 
 On my way to Manchester I passed several tunnels — one 
 more than a mile long. There is one still longer through a 
 hill called Stonehedge, or the Backbone of England, between 
 Huddersfield and Manchester. This mountain is one of the 
 causes of the prevailing wet weather at Manchester. In 
 France the cars are lighted up before entering a tunnel ; 
 which mitigates the horror of a four-mile delve through 
 these dismal subterranean caverns, witii only an occasional 
 flicker of sparks from the locomotive, increasing the dreari- 
 ness of the visible darkness. 
 
 Wakefield is one of the most romantic towns in the West 
 Riding of Yorkshire. It lies on a long steep hill, with a 
 stream at the base. Factories, costly mansions, churches, 
 with pointed spires of brown stone, were so many types of 
 industry and increasing prosperity. At the sight of this 
 charming spot my enthusiasm was up, and I felt as if I could 
 leap from the railway carriage. If this was the scene of the 
 Vicar of Wakefield, that unpretending little town has grown 
 up wonderfully in the world ; and if old Dr. Primrose was 
 " passing rich with forty pounds a year," the present incum- 
 bent enjoys a far fatter benefice. I could fancy the good old 
 10 
 
110 FIRST VISIT TO EUEOPE. 
 
 vicar walking on ahead, and his wife seated on the pillion 
 riding in state to church on the family horse Blackberry, with 
 Moses behind, and the two little ones in front, while Sophia 
 and Olivia were on the colt, their trains flaunting to the 
 ground ! Such is the power of association, that what we 
 read in early life seems in after-life like a matter of fact 
 history, Happy will it be if the books we conversed with 
 were not of evil tendency ; for it has been well said that a 
 book of bad principles is one of the worst things in the 
 world, because it never can repent. 
 
 It was my intention to spend more time in the manufac- 
 turing towns, but^ their gloominess and difficulty of access 
 except on special occasions, caused me to forego many visits. 
 Keighley, Bradford, Huddersfield and Leeds, in Yorkshire, 
 with their immense population, are widely celebrated for 
 woollen fabrics, to an extent almost beyond calculation: 
 while Barnsley is no less famous for the extensive manufac- 
 ture of linens. Fifteen miles south of this is Sheffield, so 
 universally renowned for its cast-steel and cutlery. Bolton, 
 Preston, and Manchester, in Lancashire, are remarkable for 
 their vast cotton manufactories. This county alone buys 
 more cotton of the United States than the whole world put 
 together. Birmingham, in Warwickshire, is noted for its 
 military hardware and jewelry. Though I was among these 
 manufacturing districts, descriptive details would be endless. 
 How spirit-stirring to pass through these immense commu- 
 nities, their long streets extending from one tovm to anotlier, 
 lighted up with gas for the distance of twenty miles ! Such 
 is the country around Manchester ! 
 
 A gentlema,n in the carriage observing my intense interest 
 in the wayside novelties, inquired — " How do you like Eng- 
 land?" "0 wonderfully, Sir — wonderfully!" After I had 
 complimented the English in pretty strong terms, and some 
 indifferent remarks on both sides in reference to England 
 and America, he broke out in a new place with the crabbed 
 
APPEARANCE OF MANCHESTER. m 
 
 philippic — "The Americans think they know everything!" 
 I never felt more surprise in my life — it was as if a thunder- 
 bolt had lighted down on the car. However, the easiest 
 way of getting along in such cases is not to he too sensitive ; 
 and so I howed in silent thankfulness at this neat compli- 
 ment, the receipt of which is hereby acknowledged on behalf 
 of my countrymen, for whom it was intended. Let us correct 
 our own pride before we condemn others for the same thing. 
 The first man that winces is the guilty man ! 
 
 An ocean of smoke foreshadows my approach to some 
 mighty city. Innumerable chimneys of surprising height 
 bel-ching black smoky wreaths, ascending in thick spiral 
 rolls like so many volcanoes, announce that this is the great 
 city of Manchester in Lancashire ! 
 
 A stranger in England who should not have melancholy 
 feelings at the sight of the sombrous brick buildings and 
 smoky atmosphere of the manufacturing towns must be some 
 unearthly being, and I should like to make his acquaintance. 
 As for those happy spirits who always look on the bright 
 side of things, they will find their predicament extremely 
 awkward, for they will look in vain for any bright side in 
 Manchester. It was eight in the evening when I arrived; 
 and smoke, fog and darkness seem to have entered into triple 
 partnership to produce the gloomiest feelings. An obliging 
 porter took me to a house in Victoria street, (names often 
 have weight with us,) but alas ! it was not what the name 
 of the street would indicate — a place of luxury or comfort; 
 and the next day I removed to Woverden's excellent temper- 
 ance house, Market street. These houses are very numerous 
 in ail the large towns. No traveller need be kept awake all 
 night by boisterous orators over a pot of porter, unless he 
 has a decided relish for such abominable associations. 
 
 My first visit was to the Rev. John Heron MacGuire, of 
 
 St. Luke's, v/ith a letter from Rev. Dr. S of Brooklyn. 
 
 All the way from Edinburgh I v/as without an acquaintance ; 
 
112 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 and what could be more exhilarating than the warm-hearted 
 Christian hospitality of this reverend gentleman? There 
 are thousands of these untitled noblemen in Great Britain; 
 nature's nobility, on whom pure religion has conferred still 
 nobler graces — all that exalts the soul to "the highest style 
 of man." After service on Sunday at St. Luke's, I dined 
 with the Rector by invitation the day before. The perfect 
 grace and freedom from all stiffness so remarkable elsewhere 
 in England, among the refined, was equally characteristic 
 of this amiable family. I was at home. We talked with 
 a free enthusiasm about America — Old England — and the 
 Church ; and while I recounted the goodness of God to me 
 in my journeyings alone for so many thousands of miles, I 
 had the deep sympathies of a high-souled Christian brother 
 whom there was no danger of wearying : who could rejoice 
 with the happy, or w^eep with the afflicted. The reverend 
 gentleman expressed great desire to see my country, and 
 was surprised to learn that international enterprise was 
 now such that $110 would take him in the steamship City 
 of Glasgow to New- York and back to Europe, including 
 needful comforts. Having touched on one of the favourite 
 objects of my visit to England, to see the homes and graves 
 of some of the gifted British poets, I saw that a responsive 
 chord was touched in his own bosom. He spoke with deep 
 feeling of his own antiquarian visits, referring especially to 
 the grave of the Dairyman's Daughter in the Isle of Wight, 
 remarking that I would see he had cut out the moss from 
 the letters on her gravestone. On taking leave, he kindly 
 gave me a line to his friend Col. Powney, of Petersham Lodge, 
 near Richmond. Independent of coal smoke, there are many 
 bright green spots in Manchester, after all. 
 
 Among the clergy of Manchester, none are more distin- 
 guished than the far-famed Rev. Hugh Stowell, whom it 
 was not my good fortune to hear. In the afternoon I went 
 to the Collegiate Cathedral, an ancient and imposing edifice, 
 
THE CHURCH OF ENGLAND. 113 
 
 and was provided by the verger with a good seat, without 
 waiting for me to ask one. My pleasure and surprise cannot 
 be spoken, on looking round the spacious edifice, and seeing 
 three thousand worshippers. The true devotional taste with 
 which the cathedral service was sung made every chord in 
 my inner soul tremulous. The truthful discourse was in 
 keeping with the music, and went to the heart. 
 
 It would be a deep wrong to the Church of England to 
 countenance the notion that three quarters of the clergy are 
 fox-hunters, or almost wholly given up to idolatry : and 
 though it is to be deplored that many have by no means the 
 spirit of their office, hundreds of the clergy, and countless 
 thousands of the laity are bright ornaments of the Church 
 and the world. All this and much more might be said, 
 without the least design to praise her piety at the expense 
 of various other denominations, with their great and good 
 men, among them Presbyterians, clerical and lay, to whom 
 I had American letters, and whose kindness to me it were 
 dishonest to conceal, and which I am weak enough to own I 
 seldom think of without a tear of gratitude. No — let us be 
 fair, and willing to see goodness anywhere. And though an 
 old, oft-repeated, indiscriminate caricature will still be dis- 
 played, it is delightful to think that there are noble souls 
 not of this church, who feel that is not exactly right to bear 
 false witness against their neighbour because he follows not 
 them. They who desire, contrary to the heavenly injunction, 
 to pull up tares, would make sad work with the wheat. That 
 the English Church is alive may be inferred from her uni- 
 versal motion, although this activity implies no spiritual 
 life in the removing lifeless bodies. The Crystal Palace and 
 the Church of England were the great topics of the day; 
 and since my return the excitement has steadily increased. 
 great country — the land of martyrs— whence Christianity 
 has irradiated over the whole globe ! God bless all the 
 "green pastures" of Old England, and restore the dry ones! 
 10* 
 
1 14 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 From Manchester to London it is nearly two hundred 
 miles, including more than fifty towns on the route. The 
 fare in the parliamentary trains is an English penny a mile ; 
 in the second class, two ; and in the first class, nearly in 
 proportion. The cheapest fare from Manchester to London 
 is 15s. and 8d. sterling, or over $3.50 — running time about 
 twelve hours ] but the other trains travel at double or treble 
 the velocity. The rates are pretty uniform throughout the 
 kingdom. All England is cut up into railways, especially 
 the midland counties. On looking at the map of England, 
 it will be found to resemble a piece of network, with irre- 
 gular interstices. 
 
 After three days' sojourn at Manchester, I am on my way 
 to the metropolis of the world through the Trent Valley. The 
 serene sky after prevailing rains gave the landscape almost 
 celestial beauty : the second of July was a glorious summer 
 day — and memorable : for that night I was to see London ! 
 My curiositywas kept on the stretch from eight in the morn- 
 ing till eight in the evening — no idle gazer at the perfection 
 of loveliness in Nature and Art. The Trent river rises in 
 Staffordshire, winding its way eastward for a hundred miles 
 along fat valleys, till it empties into the German Ocean. 
 There are no mighty rivers like our Hudson and Delaware 
 The fields, level, undulating, or hilly, are smooth, generally 
 divided with a neat iron fence — you see no such thing as a 
 crooked rail fence, and will look in vain for a stone as big as 
 an egg. To jot down the numberless striking objects of the 
 way would be entirely incompatible with the progress of 
 steam. Here is a castle — now we enter a tunnel two or three 
 miles long. Of these there are several in Derbyshire. My 
 attention was called by a passenger to the park and castle 
 of the Marquis of Anglesey, who lost a leg in the battle of 
 Waterloo. "Another such victory would ruin me!" said 
 Pyrrhus of old : and the Marquis might say the same, for it 
 would cost him the other leg. 
 
BIRTHPLACE OF JOHNSON. 115 
 
 The castle and park grounds of the Earl of Lichfield, in 
 Staffordshire, reminded me of the vignette to some beautiful 
 hook. Turn over — The next page introduces you to the 
 volume itself, Lichfield — ^the first chapter in the life and 
 times of Samuel Johnson, the great literary giant of the 
 eighteenth century. On a gently swelling hill, I see the 
 famous cathedral, with its three pointed spires of brown 
 stone, one of them "'high above the rest — proudly eminent." 
 While our iron horse stopped to set down some of his load, 
 puff and blow, breathe and drink, I also took in copious and 
 refreshing draughts of beauty. The hill is adorned with 
 lawns, gardens, orchards and wealthy seats, resembling its 
 namesake Litchfield, in Connecticut, to a t, which, though 
 bolder, is inferior in sylvan beauty and horticultural aspect. 
 In the splendid cathedral are monuments to Johnson, Garrick, 
 Lady Mary Wortley Montague, and Miss Seward. In the 
 Market Place on a pedestal, having representions of three 
 periods of Johnson's life in bas-relief, is his statue. Near 
 this stands the house where he was born in 1709. In the 
 free school of St. John, Addison, Johnson, Wollaston and Sir 
 John Hawkins received their early education. I thought of 
 the story the Doctor tells of refusing to attend his father to 
 the Uttoxeter ifiarket, some fifteen miles distant. The recol- 
 lection had always been painful; and more than fifty years 
 afterward he went to Uttoxeter in very bad weather, and on 
 the spot where his father kept his stall, stood a considerable 
 time bare-headed in the rain. " And I hope," said he, " the 
 penance was expiatory." 
 
 Among the glittering towns along the Trent Valley, I saw 
 none more lovely than Atherstone, in Warwickshire, with its 
 neighbouring castle and park lands. Indeed, all along the 
 route of the railway, were the same nicely-trimmed hedges, 
 smooth, new-mown meadows with gay russet haycocks, fields 
 of grain covered with reapers, or acres of English beans in 
 white blossom, whose delicate fragrance filled all the air ; 
 
Ijg FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 while every spot was in the highest style of agriculture. 
 Even the railways were planted with vegetables, shrubs, and 
 flowers. It seemed like Dreamland; and I wondered at the 
 fine taste which has made England such a paradise, wanting 
 only the pristine innocence of man. The Trent is no less 
 beautiful for being a small stream, often suddenly starting 
 from its meandering concealment behind some hill or grove, 
 showing itself laughingly, like some beauty peeping through 
 the cottage coppice. 
 
 East of Atherstone is Bosworth, in Leicestershire, where 
 Richard III. was defeated and slain by Henry VII. 
 
 Kenilworth, in Warwickshire, is four miles from Coventry. 
 This castle so famous in history, has been invested with 
 immortality by the author of Kenilworth. The outer walls 
 inclosed seven acres, in the centre of which rose the lordly 
 castellated pile, where dwelt Robert Dudley, Earl of Leices- 
 ter, in all the pride of feudal glory. It was visited by Queen 
 Elizabeth in 1566 and 1568. Here in 1575, she held her court 
 two weeks, with a splendour beyond anything known in the 
 history of England. The stone tower still remains where the 
 ambitious Leicester confined his Countess, (whom he had 
 privately married,) who escaped and made herself known at 
 the moment he was kneeling to the Queen and asking her 
 hand. The Earl fell into disgrace, and the Queen took an 
 abrupt leave. The remaining walls are covered with run- 
 ning ivy. There they have stood for centuries, frowning in 
 gloomy sullenness at the pride of man ! 
 
 Stratford-upon-Avon, in Warwickshire, the birthplace of 
 Shakspeare, I could not visit. It would have been delighful 
 to see his time-honoured chair, which doubtless possesses 
 some innate principle of self-restoration, by which it survives 
 the sedentary ambition of its countless visiters. Irving, who 
 visited the immortal chair, and doubtless performed the same 
 pious act which he so kindly excuses in the rest, says — " In 
 this chair it is the custom of every ne who visits the house 
 
SHAKSPE ARE'S CHAIR. 117 
 
 to sit ; whether this be done with a view of imbibing any of 
 the inspiration of the bard I am at a loss to say ; I only 
 mention the fact ; and my hostess privately assured me that 
 though built of solid oak, such was the fervent zeal of devo- 
 tees, that the chair had to be new-bottomed at least once in 
 three years. It is worthy of remark that this remarkable 
 chair partakes something of the volatile nature of the Santa 
 Casa of LorettO; or the flying chair of the Arabian enchanter; 
 for though sold some years since to a northern princess, yet 
 strange to tell, it has found its way back again to the old 
 chimney corner." 
 
 Harrow-on-the-Hill, twelve miles from London, is a fine 
 arching, picturesque swell, beautified with orchards, gardens, 
 groves and stately seats, commanding an extensive prospect, 
 being the highest ground in Middlesex. Here Lord Byron, 
 Sir Robert Peel, and the Editor of the New- York American, 
 now President of Columbia College, went to school. Beautiful 
 Harrow! it deserves more than a passing notice; but the 
 mind now becomes absorbed in wonder at the numerous 
 beautiful seats, and vehicles loaded to the top, dashing by 
 like ocean billows, betokening the suburbs of the mighty 
 metropolis of two millions ! My emotions were almost too 
 big for utterance. One who has never seen London can form 
 but a poor idea of the overwhelming sublimity that seizes 
 on the soul of a stranger, to say nothing of his lonely feeling 
 of desolation on entering that great city for the first time. 
 
 At eight I was set down at the splendid crystal palace 
 called the Hueston station, and having taken lodgings for 
 the night in Drummond street near the railway, I immedi- 
 ately sallied forth in search of an American friend, alone, 
 amid the vast solitudes of London ! 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 3lo:ition. 
 
 ni view the manners of ike town, 
 Peruse the traders, gaze upon the buildings, 
 And then return and sleep ■within mine inn. 
 For, -with long travel I am stiff and weary. 
 
 Shakspeare. 
 
 London ! I had read of it in books, and listened to glow- 
 ing oral pictnres with a strange interest ; yet how widely- 
 different are my feelings now that faith is turned to sight ! 
 The overpowering splendour of everything around ; the hlaze 
 of glory from the gas lamps ; the portentous hurrying to and 
 fro of a perfect sea of human beings delving along the broad- 
 ways and byways, with tilburys, cabriolets, omnibuses, and 
 vehicles of all sorts, from the queer-looking donkey-cart to 
 the sumptuous coach, rushing in all directions, commingling 
 with the social laugh and boisterous shouts of dealers in 
 small wares, produced a universal roar bewildering the 
 imagination. The very thought of being in a city of thirty 
 miles circuit, where a countless host of great men in every 
 department of literature have flourished, called up a crowd 
 of strange and pleasing associations ; while bewildered, agi- 
 tated, fatigued I wended my uncertain Way onward for two 
 miles through the West End or Westminster. Inquiries for 
 direction were kindly answered. I had heard that John Bull 
 was surly — for myself, I found him just the reverse. 
 
 In Regent street T found Mr. Cutter, the only American 
 friend I had in Europe, in whose family I met with courteous 
 Christian sympathy, and spent much of my time in London. 
 
 On my return at a late hour to the lodgings I had engaged 
 for that night, a gentleman of whom I inquired the way, 
 insisted on going with me, though a mile out of his way ! 
 
WONDERS OF LONDON. 119 
 
 A good map enabled me to thread my way through this 
 metropolitan wilderness, often walking, sometimes riding; 
 or London is alive with omnibuses flying in all directions, 
 especially in the middle of the forenoon and afternoon, when 
 the insides and top seats are loaded with merchants and 
 traders, residing in the skirts and fashionable environs — 
 
 " The villas -with which London stands begirt, 
 "Like a swarth Indian -with his belt of beads;" 
 
 Victoria Park, Bethnall Green, Islington, Blackwall, Hoxton, 
 Limehouse, Stepney, Brompton, Paddington, Regent's Park, 
 Oldford, Chelsea, Pentonville, Pimlico, Peckham, Walworth, 
 Paddington, Rotherhithe, Newington, Bermondsey, Camber- 
 well, Highgate, Hampstead; while the grand arteries like 
 Whitechapel Road, Tottenham Court Road, Waterloo Road, 
 Bishopsgate street, Gray's Inn Lane, Fenchurch street, Great 
 Surrey street, Leadenhall street, Cornhill, Holborn, Ludgate 
 Hill, Fleet street, Strand, Pall Mall, Oxford street. Regent 
 street, Piccadilly, and many more, are perfectly alive with a 
 swelling tide of humanity. If you v/ish to go to Pimlico, in 
 the vicinity of the parks, you will not wait two minutes for 
 an omnibus with " All the Way — Threepence !" which takes 
 you the whole distance from the Bank of England in Thread- 
 needle street, six miles, or any intermediate point. There 
 are thirty thousand streets in London, most of them unsur- 
 passed for convenience in Europe. They are svv'ept every 
 morning before sunrise, by a machine with a revolving broom 
 which whisks the dirt into a kind of scuttle or trough. This 
 plan was once tried in New- York : any one can tell whether 
 it failed by looking at the streets. At many of the crossings 
 is placed a circle of upright cannon, where a person can take 
 refuge from danger of being run down by a crowd of carriages. 
 Of hacks alone there are licensed ten thousand ! but the Ame- 
 rican hacks in beauty go ahead of the English. 
 
 A vast throng is continually pouring through the great 
 thoroughfares till midnight ; but the great tide of human 
 
120 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 existence is at Charing Cross, as it was in Johnson's time. 
 Charing Cross is a marble pedestal surmounted by a statue 
 of Charles I. In Trafalgar Square, at the junction of the 
 Strand, Pall Mall, and Whitehall, is the Nelson column, 
 nearly two hundred feet high. A perfect flood of carriages 
 and pedestrians is constantly rushing through Temple Bar, 
 the ancient boundary between Westminster and old London, 
 half of which lies oh the Surrey side of the Thames. Old 
 London is not a tithe of the present mighty metropolis. 
 Temple Bar is an ancient gateway with two posterns, bestrid- 
 ing Fleet street. On one side of the stone arch, in niches, 
 are statues of James L and Queen Elizabeth; on the other, 
 Charles L and XL Here, on great occasions the Queen 
 receives the sword of state from the Lord Mayor, who pre- 
 cedes her to her destination. In Paternoster Row a small 
 street perhaps a quarter of a mile long, between Cheapside 
 and Amen Corner, I estimated the number of bookstores at 
 one hundred, be the same more or less, as the lawyers say. 
 
 Many graduate their notions of greatness by what they 
 have seen, and cannot imagine anything more splendid than 
 the New-Haven Green or Boston Common : but after a sight 
 of the London parks, they would be ready to call all the 
 American ones tolerably large grass-plots, 
 
 St. James's, like the other London parks, is a brilliant 
 emerald sparkling on the bosom of the mother of metropolitan 
 cities, beautifully diversified with swelling lawns, parterres, 
 tastefully arranged shrubbery and trees, and wide serpentine 
 walks, with its crooked lake dimpling in the breeze. This 
 park was a morass in Henry VIII. 's time. One entrance is 
 from Waterloo Place, where stands the magnificent Duke of 
 York column of red s^ranite, by a flight of broad, massive 
 stone steps; but the principal one is by the Horse Guards, a 
 a large stone building at Whitehall, where may be heard, 
 on certain days of the week, the very finest music in the wide 
 world by the Queen's band. 
 
LONDON PARKS. j2l 
 
 A wide avenue divides St. James's from Green Park, and 
 terminates at Hyde Park Corner, where splendid vistas open 
 in every direction — Piccadilly, a street of palaces a mile long, 
 overlooking Green Park on the right ; near Hyde Park Corner 
 is Apsley House, the stately residence of the Duke of Wel- 
 lington, to whom the statue of Achilles was reared in the 
 vicinity by the ladies of England, made of cannon taken at 
 Vittoria, Salamanca, Toulouse, and Waterloo; and in the 
 distance, the British flag waves over Buckingham Palace, 
 the residence of Victoria. The triumphal gateway to Hyde 
 Park is over a hundred feet wide with two arches for pas- 
 sengers and three for carriages. In Hyde Park the Crystal 
 Palace was in progress for the World's Fair; the wonders 
 of which are known the world over. A stream called the 
 Serpentine, bordered on one side by a wide avenue, divides 
 Hyde Park from the famous Kensington Gardens, open to 
 the universal public. On Sunday afternoons 50,000 persons 
 may be seen along these walks, and on any great occasion, 
 such as a military review, an immense concourse of 200,000 ! 
 These parks are the great resort of fashion. How enormous 
 the wealth that can sujpport such equipages as I saw daily 
 rolling along the broad gravel roads ! During a two hours' 
 stroll one afternoon the number of carriages that passed me 
 must have been 5000. Each nobleman has his coat-of-arms, 
 and his servants, two behind and two in front, are dressed 
 in a peculiar livery, to distinguish them from the servants 
 of other noblemen. Such fantastic objects! with their blue, 
 red, or yellow, silk plush breeches, white stockings, and hats 
 and coats bedizened with gold and silver lace ; and while all 
 this ridiculous paraphernalia seemed like the caricature of 
 nobility', the dukes and the duchesses in the carriages were 
 dressed with more simplicity and taste than many private 
 ladies and gentlemen. 
 
 Regent's Park is an immense area of three hundred and 
 sixty acres, and is a very fashionable quarter. The buildings 
 11 
 
222 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 in the vicinity are in the purest style of architecture. The 
 Cumberland Terrace is especially admired by all strangers. 
 
 Victoria Park is more recently laid out, and has no lake. 
 
 From morning till midnight I was on the move, for the 
 Londoners do not retire till twelve and one — turning night 
 into day. It was my last chance, and so I made a desperate 
 push to see as much as possible. While looking at one object 
 a dozen other curious things would stare me in the face. 
 London is the vast curiosity-shop of all the world : it would 
 take one's lifetime to explore its Avonders. Our impressions 
 of its greatness cannot be measured by a few hasty glances. 
 
 It is not uncommon for a store to contain £250,000 in 
 merchandise, nearly Si, 250, 000. Even a New-Yorker would 
 be confounded at the splendour of such stores as those in 
 Regent street, Oxford street, and Fleet street. 
 
 The manners, tastes, and usages of the English, are auile 
 peculiar — I was going to say. in everything different from 
 ours. It woLild be folly to expect conformity between them 
 and ourselves. In some things the English have a decided 
 advantage. They do not move two or three times a-year : if 
 they did, their customers would not follow them. In this we 
 Americans go ahead without gaining much. Some allowance 
 is to be made for the rapid increase of our communities, and 
 the consequent frequent changes,which gives a fine chance for 
 endless experiment to develop the spirit of Yankee enterprise. 
 The perfect system in every department of trade, from the 
 Bank of England, with a thousand clerks, down to the small- 
 est retail traffic, surprised, and often amused me. Of course, 
 there is no lack of enterprise, yet we see few experiments at 
 work to make money by new inventions, such as a mineral- 
 water establishment. If your life depended on a refreshing 
 draught from a soda-fountain you would die. The people 
 drink beer and ale till their skins are steeped the same hue. 
 Yet it is a humid clime, not beer, that makes them healthy. 
 
 Sometimes I wondered at the strange lack of information 
 
LONDON HOSPITALI'. r. J23 
 
 about America : for instance, on getting a little bewildered 
 and lost in the street, I would ask the way, saying 1 was a 
 stranger in their country • when the reply would be courteous 
 with the inquiry, "Do they all speak the English language 
 in America as well as you do?" It is not their fault that 
 they have not always access to reliable information, and that 
 Anglo-Americans are mistaken for aborigines. It will be 
 understood that I speak not generally, but of a class. 
 
 H and I being side by side in the alphabet of suffering, I 
 sympathized much for my friend's health, as he was in con- 
 stant danger of catching cold — never in the ouse when he 
 hought to be — halways hout in the hopen hair without his 
 at — sadly used or misused he was by the London cockneys. 
 Every country has its monstrosities and absurdities; but one 
 may travel New-England over to find anything half so ridi- 
 culous as this barbarous murder of our mother English. 
 They have also many singular phrases — I do not allude to 
 the subject for the purpose of ridicule — by no means : for we 
 have "glass houses," as well as the English, and must be 
 careful hov/ we throw stones. It is common to say, Mrs. 
 So-and-so is "well to do," .but I believe this strange phrase 
 is not much in use by the more refined INIartineaus, Trol- 
 loppes, Marryatts, Halls, and Fiddlers, who ridicule our 
 country without mercy, and poke fun at the "barbarous 
 Yankees." Notwithstanding all this, we shall survive their 
 satire; and the Yankees will live a long time to be "con- 
 siderably handsome guessers." 
 
 The surrounding novelties were so deeply interesting that 
 I almost forgot to deliver several letters of introduction. One 
 was addressed 28 Oxford -street, of which there are three 
 side by side. At each place I was sent "next door," till I 
 finally gave it up in despair. 
 
 A letter from Mr. Wilkie of Glasgow, to Mr. T. W. Dean, 
 of Lambeth, made ample amends. After the many hospitable 
 attentions on my first arrival in England, I was, if possible. 
 
124 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 still more astonished at the pains he took to make my vi&.t 
 to London pleasant. Though engaged in a mercantile office, 
 he voluntarily engaged to accompany me several hours each 
 day. With a generosity that I have never seen excelled, he 
 would say — "Let me know what places you would like to 
 see to-morrow, and I will manage to go with you." I gene- 
 rally resigned myself to his guidance, and was also a frequent 
 guest at his house. Since my return I have received from 
 him several friendly Christian letters. 
 
 Another letter from Rev. Dr. C of Brooklyn, to Mr. 
 
 Edwin Hough, was doubly fortunate j for just as I was ahout 
 to give up the weary search for him, a gentleman of whom I 
 inquired turned out to he his friend. I was fatigued and 
 greatly dejected ] and when Mr. Handyside observed that my 
 emotion prevented a reply to his offer of assistance, I apolo- 
 gized by saying I was overcome by the strange sympathy 
 I met everywhere in England, He replied — "Sir, you are 
 in a Christian country !" adding, that before leaving London 
 I would like to attend the House of Lords, and he would see 
 the Earl of Chichester and get me a ticket. This kindness 
 was the more acceptable from the great difficulty of getting 
 admission. After obtaining good lodgings for me near Hol- 
 born Hill, we went to Mr. Hough's office in Bride Court. 
 This gentleman treated me with every attention, and named 
 a day to show me things in London. On calling one day to 
 apologize for breaking the appointment, he gaily said, " I 
 suppose this is a specimen of American punctuality !" The 
 truth is, Mr. Handyside advised me to postpone that arrange- 
 ment, as I wished to see the Queen, who was to give a 
 drawing-room that day at Buckingham Palace ; a rare oppor- 
 tunity. After waiting three hours at Hyde Park Corner, 
 where the royal carriage was to pass from the palace, I then 
 retired a short distance to Achilles' monument, and awaking 
 at two o'clock from sleep superinduced by excessive illness 
 and fatigue, my inquiry of an officer if Her Majesty would 
 
BRITISH MUSEUM— THAMES TUNNEL. 125 
 
 soon come along, was answered, that she had passed in a 
 private carriage an hour ago ! It was a time of mourning 
 at Court: the Queen's uncle, the Duke of Cambridge, died 
 that morning; and I stood on the very spot where Sir Robert 
 Peel fell from his horse, which caused his death only two 
 days before. I shall always regret not being able to keep 
 another appointment with Mr. Hough, and also to attend the 
 House of Lords, in consequence of leaving for France. In a 
 letter to a clerical friend since my return home, this gentle- 
 man remarked that he was desirous of showing me more 
 attention, but knew not what had become of me — I had taken 
 "French leave." This was a clever hit; he was not aware 
 that I had gone to France. 
 
 My friend Mr. D. accompanied me to the British Museum, 
 in Great Russell street. This unrivalled monument of 
 national enterprise and taste covers an area equal to half a 
 dozen blocks, and is now undergoing enlargement by a new 
 series of rooms. The Nimroud sculptures are great curio- 
 sities, especially the sword-bearer and tribute-bearer. To 
 see this wonderful institution properly would require weeks. 
 
 Descending several winding flights of stone stairs, we 
 passed through the Thames Tunnel under the bed of the 
 river from Wapping to Rotherhithe, in Surrey. There are 
 two arched passages 1200 feet long for carriages, but which 
 do not yet pass; with a neatly paved pathway three feet 
 wide for pedestrians ; the whole brilliantly illuminated with 
 gas. My sensations were somewhat peculiar while steam- 
 ships and all kinds of vessels were sailing overhead. This 
 wonderful triumph of human skill seems after all little more 
 than a splendid failure as to the object in construction. A 
 lady at the entrance cut my profile, and that was another 
 splendid failure ! 
 
 We then visited Newgate, Old Bailey, the dreary abode of 
 criminals — a square, massive stone structure, towering over 
 the corner of Newgate street. Prisoners under sentence of 
 11* 
 
126 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 death sleep on mats in dark narrow cellsj with a gmali grated 
 aperture, but are allowed to walk in the court-yard during 
 the day time. The discipline is constantly improving. 
 
 We stepped into Court and saw the lawyers in their gowns 
 and wigs, which they wear in the streets, " summing up" in a 
 criminal case. At Guildhall, Cheapside, the Corporation of 
 London gave a grand dinner to the Queen. Here Ave saw the 
 famous Gog and Magog, grotesque giantly creations in carved 
 wood, with faces and accoutrements frightfully savage. 
 
 The Bank of England in Threadneedle street, is a prodi- 
 gious pile occupying eight acres. The gateway is guarded 
 by an officer with a red cloak, richly bedight, a cocked hat 
 and sword swinging at his side; a costume reminding you of 
 the Edwards, and Richards, or of some Persian satrap. 
 
 The General Post-Office in St. Martin-le-Grand, is also 
 conducted on a scale inconceivably magnificent. 
 
 The London and St. Katherine Docks, communicating with 
 the Thames by inlets, are wonders. Under ground are acres 
 upon acres of wine vaults : I was told one of them occupied 
 nine acres ! The East and West India and Commercial DockSj 
 near Blackwall, the still more easterly part of the city, cover 
 one or two hundred acres. 
 
 The old Lambeth Palace looks more like a prison; and 
 such indeed it was. Many bloody pages of English history 
 are written on those grisly towers, which are not allowed to 
 be taken down. On my way over Westminster Bridge through 
 Lambeth, I had frequent opportunities of scanning its gloomy 
 w<ftlls, rising above the Thames. Many great banquets and 
 nameless atrocities have m.ade the spot famous. The rusty 
 iron rings still remain in the walls of Lollards' Tower, in 
 which the Lollards and others were chained. The modern 
 palace of the Archbishop of Canterbury stands in his park 
 and gardens of thirty acres on the bank of the Thames. 
 
 Tyburn, where criminals were executed in old t mes, is 
 now a fashionable part of the West End. 
 
KENSINGTON GARDENS— ST. Pi. UL'S. j27 
 
 The Kensington Gardens ! — who can describe them ? My 
 friend wandered with me through the wide luxuriant park 
 grounds, while the cheerful sunshine strayed down through 
 the skylight in the sublime sylvan arches of Gothic majesty, 
 the myriad leaves playing and singing soft reedy music, as 
 the sunbeams gayly danced on the smooth green grass, spread 
 out in a living carpet on the spacious floor of this temple of 
 Nature ! In a little while we are lost in the delicious mazes 
 of the extensive gardens, where trees, shrubs, plants, and 
 flowers, from all quarters of the globe, arranged with mas- 
 terly skill — spreading out in parterres an almost endless 
 prospect of blooming beauty and fragrance, delight and sur- 
 prise the imagination. Every plant and tree has its botanic 
 and English name in plain letters. A large number are 
 from North America. How is it possible for any one to look 
 with thought and feeling at such an assemblage of natural 
 beauty, and be an infidel ? for celestial themes are stamped 
 on every petal and leaf in this fair and beautiful volume of 
 the God of Nature. As for me, I never saw anything half 
 as beautiful in the shape of a garden. We shall visit the 
 Royal Gardens of Kev/ in a day or tv*'o, and see if they out- 
 shine the Kensington Gardens ! During our walk I was so 
 completely transported that I had to apologize several times 
 to my friend for not answering his questions. 
 
 I was advised to wait for a clear day to ascend St. Paul's, 
 The charge for seeing it throughout is 5s. 4d., $1 .00. In Paris, 
 such things are free ; but in England, the almighty shilling 
 is the order of the day : the cicerone expects his douceur for 
 everything. The English people at large are rather ashamed 
 of this practice. I ascended 616 steps to the ball, of 5600 
 jDOunds weight, and sat in it, though difficult and dangerous. 
 Twelve men have dined in it at one time ; but then they did 
 not sit as long and comfortably as the English generally do — 
 two or three hours. The scene from the gallery around the 
 ^ars description. Below and in the wide circumfer- 
 
J28 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 ence were two millions of human beings, ani villages in the 
 smoky distance ! The cross on the dome weighs 3600, and is 
 404 feet from the ground. The famous whispering-gallery 
 was an anomalous oracle to me, for it returned whisper for 
 whisper — not a loud word did it speak. My guide said it was 
 owing to the noise in the streets. My first lesson in acoustics 
 did not amount to much. Among the splendid monuments in 
 fine marble, those that interested me most were statues of 
 Dr. Johnson, Sir William Jones, Sir Joshua Reynolds, Bishop 
 Heber, Sir R-alph Abercrombie, (a relative of late Rev. Dr. 
 Abercrombie of Philadelphia,) and Major General Gibbs and 
 Packenham, who fell at the battle of New-Orleaus. 
 
 The vaults underneath are awful solitudes, where many 
 great men repose, which few but lovers of the romantic and 
 marvellous visit. There are three long avenues between 
 arches : the middle one totally dark, the others dimly lighted 
 at distant intervals. The crypt I did not visit. 
 
 The organ has 2123 pipes. Over the entrance to the choir 
 is a Latin inscription to the memory of Sir Christopher Wren: 
 
 SUBTUS . CONDITUR . HUIUS . ECCLESIiE . ET . URBIS 
 
 CONDITUR . CHRISTOPHRUS . WREN . QUI . VIXIT 
 
 ANNOS . ULTRA . NONAGINTA . NON . SIBI 
 
 SED . BONO . PUBLICO. 
 
 LECTOR . SI . MONUMENTUM . REQUIRIS . CIRCUMSPICE. 
 
 Beneath, is buried the Builder of this Church and City, Christopher Wren, 
 
 who lived ninety years, not for himself, but for the public good. 
 
 Reader I if you require a Monument, look around ! 
 
 It is a mile round the enclosure of St. Paul's Churchyard. 
 
 On Sunday morning T attended and heard the cathedral 
 service. The music was very superior • but the devotion of 
 the twenty "little angels" in white surplices was more im- 
 posing than impressive. These angelic beings were nothing 
 but boys after all. The poetry of religion, which many regard 
 more than the reality, is poor stuff indeed, without serious- 
 ness. But here criticism is unpleasant. The sermon was 
 impressive, and the cathedral was hung in mourning. 
 
LONDON BRIDGES. 129 
 
 WesUninster Hall is the largest room in Europe without 
 pillars. Here Richard HI. entertained a thousand guests; 
 and here Charles I. received sentence of death. I was shown 
 Whitehall Palace, in front of which he was beheaded. 
 
 The new House of Lords, now erecting near the Thames, 
 is a prodigious pile an eighth of a mile long. To insure the 
 greatest possible strength, only ten feet of the towers are 
 allowed to proceed in a year. Parliament street leading from 
 Whitehall to the Parliament Houses, will be widened, and 
 Westminster Bridge rebuilt at another point, so that the view 
 will be unbroken. Of late years, many new streets have 
 been made, and old ones annihilated. Oxford street, and 
 others almost equally beautiful, have been cut through such 
 places as St. Giles, formerly the "Five Points" of London. 
 The corporation have appropriated £20,000 a year to improve 
 the city. Houses erected at the turnings must be circular. 
 
 A peculiar feature of London is its bridges, the like of 
 which the w^orld cannot boast. These alone render London 
 worthy of our admiration. My voyage over the Atlantic 
 would be well repaid by a sight of these alone. 
 
 The new London Bridge is of stone, with five elliptical 
 arches — the middle one the finest in the world. Like the 
 others it has dry arches, with handsome stone steps winding 
 down to the river, where numerous steamboats touch, and 
 for one penny take passengers to the difierent bridges between 
 London and Richmond; a treat I enjoyed almost daily. The 
 Thames is fairly black with the smoke of these boats. 
 
 Southwark Bridge, a magnificent fabric of cast iron, cost 
 £800,000 ! — toll one penny. 
 
 Blackfriars, with nine arches, cost over £252,000, and is 
 truly magnificent. I can never forget my burst of surprise 
 as I stood on this bridge one beautiful day in July. The glo- 
 rious splendour of London was spread all around as far as 
 the eye could reach, and up and down the Thames, crowded 
 with barges, small craft.and steamboats belching black smoke 
 
130 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 rolling up the heavens, while all the distant bridges were 
 alive with the thronging multitude hurrying to and fro. In 
 one wide sweep between the House of Lords and the Tower, 
 are the Somerset House; Adelphi Terrace, and the spires 
 and towers of fifty or sixty churches — among them St. Dun- 
 stan's in the East, St. Magnus, St. Michael's, St. Mary- 
 le-Bow, St. James', St. Dunstan's in the West, St. Bride's, 
 St. Andrew's, St. Swithin's, St. Clement Danes, St. Giles, 
 St. Martin in the Fields, Westminster Abbey; and far away 
 to the east, the Monument commemorating the Great Fire in 
 1666, and the mountain pile of St, Paul's, towering into the 
 very clouds ! What a panorama of grandeur ! 
 
 Waterloo Bridge, of stone, has nine arches, forming a level 
 road fifty feet above the Thames. It is a curious sight to 
 witness the steamboats lower their pipes by a windlass to an 
 angle of forty-five degrees when passing under the bridges, 
 and slowly wind up again. This "queen of bridges" has 
 been pronounced by M. Dupin " a colossal monument worthy 
 of Sesostris or the Csesars." 
 
 Hungerford Suspension Bridge, near Charing Cross, at 
 the widest part of the Thames, with square brick towers 
 a hundred feet high, is wonderfully curious. Toll, halfpenny. 
 
 Westminster Bridge, communicating with the parks. House 
 of Lords, and Westminster Abbey, was once very splendid, 
 but is now in a sinking condition, and is to be rebuilt. 
 
 Vauxhall Bridge, of iron, from Vauxhall to Pimlico, is a 
 superb structure, and cost £150,000. 
 
 Besides these, there are the Battersea, Fulham, Hammer- 
 smith, (a fine suspension,) and the beautiful stone bridges at 
 Kew, Richmond, and Kingston. 
 
 On my way to the Tower through S mithfield, it was not 
 difficult for imagination to picture the stake, the faggot, tho 
 flame, and an ocean of spectators on the open plain, where 
 the martyrs "gloried God in the midst of the fire." This 
 locality is now densely populated. 
 
TOWER OF LONDON. 13| 
 
 The very mention of the Tower of London carries us hack 
 to the days of that terrible inquisition of regal vengeance. 
 Fearful tragedies have been acted in those dark, gloomy, 
 embattled walls ! There it stands on the high bank of the 
 Thames, with its obtuse pointed towers, like some captive 
 tyrant. Ghostly shades of the Past flitted before me while 
 musing along Tower Hill, the ancient scene of so many bloody 
 executions — the "fatal green" where were beheaded two 
 queens of Henry VIII., the two Earls of Essex, Lady Jane 
 Gre)^, and others. The strongly fortified walls around the 
 Tower inclose a dozen acres. The four gates open at five 
 every morning with as much formal circumspection as if an 
 invading army lay encamped outside the walls. The officials 
 were dressed in the military costume of old times. The 
 warder's habit was a short red frock, broad-rimmed hat and 
 low crown, with a gold band. The several departments of 
 the Tower were built at different periods. Antiquarians are 
 divided as to its origin, Julius Ca3sar or William the Con- 
 queror. Here were confined many illustrious persons — David 
 king of Scotland, king John of France, Richard II., Henry 
 VI., (both murdered here,) Edward, Duke of Buckingham, 
 Lord High Constable of England, Sir Thomas More, the 
 Duke of Somerset, Lord Hastings, Sudbury, Archbishop of 
 Canterbury, the Bishop of Rochester, Queen Elizabeth, Arch- 
 bishop Laud, and others, A cold shudder came over me 
 as I passed the Traitor's Gate, and followed the warder along 
 the narrow winding avenues of solid masonry, through the 
 gateway under the Bloody Tower, in which the infant princes 
 were murdered by order of their uncle, the Duke of Gloucester, 1 
 afterwards Richard III. The heavy oaken doors looked as 
 if they might be a thousand years old. The large iron teeth 
 in the a.rch above them grinned with terrific significance, as 
 if sure of every captive that passed their portals. Shak- 
 speare's brilliant fancy has scarcely overdrawn the awful 
 realities of the Bloody Tower. 
 
J32 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 In the Chapel of St. John in the White Tower, the first 
 English kings performed their devotions. I entered the cell 
 below the chapel, where Sir Walter Raleigh was for twelve 
 years a prisoner. An inscription in curious orthography is 
 cut in the wall over the entrance : 
 
 He tkat endvreth to the ende shall be savid — Be faitfvl vnto the deth and 
 I will give the a crown of life. 
 
 The Horse Armoury has some twenty equestrian figures 
 in armour of different periods between Edward I. and James 
 II., with banners, and the name of the knight or king repre- 
 sented by the effigy. The war implements are innumerable. 
 One long room is occupied by a train of artillery. Here I saw 
 the heading-block and axe used at the execution of the Earl 
 of Essex, thumbscrews, and other instruments of torture. 
 Here is Queen Elizabeth on a cream-coloured horse, in the 
 dress she wore as she rode in state to St. Paul's to return 
 thanks after the destruction of the Spanish Armada. 
 
 The Regalia is a wonderful collection. Victoria's crown 
 is purple velvet, inclosed by silver hoops studded with dia- 
 monds, over which is a ball with smaller diamonds, and a 
 sapphire in the centre. In front is a heart-shaped ruby worn 
 by Edward the Black Prince. "That crown," said a gen- 
 tleman to me, "would buy all the Regalia of Scotland!" 
 The Queen's sceptre with the cross is richly ornamented 
 with precious stones. Here are the golden anointing spoon, 
 and the ampulla, very ancient, containing the anointing oil, 
 the coronation bracelets, and the orb, which is placed in the 
 sovereign's left hand. The Queen's golden diadem orna- 
 mented with large diamonds, was made for James 11. 's queen. 
 There are a variety of swords, sceptres and regal furniture, 
 used at coronations. The value of the whole collection (a 
 part of which has been noticed) is estimated at £3.000,000 ! 
 One sea-diamond alone is valued at £1,500,000! 
 
 The Grand Storehouse, a valuable part of the Tower, was 
 destroyed in 1841^ and contained 6,000,000 stand of arms ! 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 Wtstmlnsttx mhhz^—Jl^ampton (Sioutt—E'oih'ktnHm. 
 
 There stands a structure of majestic fame ! 
 
 Pope. 
 
 Westminster Abbey is doubtless the most interesting 
 spot in all England. As I entered the Poet's Corner by the 
 south transept opposite the House of Lords, I lifted my hat 
 with solemn reverence before passing the portal. Mine was 
 a feeling of awful delight, with which " a stranger intermed- 
 dleth not." And this is Westminster Abbey ! I have heard 
 the fame thereof: can it be that I am permitted to look at 
 it with my own eyes ? I could have wept that no congenial 
 American spirit was with me. I stood on holy ground, and 
 could hardly get courage to move from the spot. These emo- 
 tions were not nervous affections : sensibility is not always 
 sensitiveness. I surveyed the dusky arches above, and the 
 venerable walls, covered with beautifully wrought tablets, 
 while in the aisles by the long ranges of massy Gothic pillars 
 stood numberless fine statues, representives of the good and 
 great. I dare not trust myself to speak of the sacred enthu- 
 siasm that made every chord in my inmost soul vibrate. 
 
 Immortal memories bloom in the Poet's Corner ! Here are 
 the monuments of bards who delighted generations now in 
 the dust, as they will the future living world with their 
 matchless melodies. Their spirits are gone into immortality, 
 and leave behind them immortal fragrance. Their works 
 speak to the soul, as these marble effigies do to the eye. At 
 that day when these vaults give up their trust, in the lan- 
 guage of Addison, " we shall all be contemporaries." 
 
 All around are the forms of kings, statesmen, wits, poets, 
 and philosophers. The epitaphs of these all but speaking 
 forms are of thrilling interest to the lovers of lore. 
 12 
 
134 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 David Garrick, of histrionic fame, throwing aside a veil 
 from the bust of Shakspeare, illustrating his superior skill 
 in unveiling his beauties, while Tragedy, Comedy, and other 
 ideal figures, are looking on with a.pprobation, 
 
 A fine figure of Grabe, a man of great Oriental learning, 
 which seems to have left him comfortless, for there is no 
 angel of Hope pointing upward, as he sits on the marble 
 tomb meditating on the sorrows of the grave. 
 
 A fine figure of Dr. Barrow, the great theologian, whose 
 works are said to be the foundation of all the divinity writ- 
 ten since his time, is very impressive. 
 
 Addison is surrounded by the Nine Muses at the base. A 
 very noble figure this of the great critic, admired by every 
 "Spectator." 
 
 Over the door of the Chapel of St. Blaize is a remarkably 
 exact profile medallion of Oliver Goldsmith, just as we see 
 him in engravings. The tablet is beautified with a festoon 
 curtain, olive branches and books. Below is the famous 
 Latin epitaph by Dr. Johnson, purporting that he left no 
 species of writing unadorned. 
 
 Handel's monument is one of the most splendid: one can 
 never grow weary in its study. His left arm rests on a group 
 of musical instruments, while listening to an angel in the 
 clouds playing on a harp. A music book lies open at the notes 
 in the Messiah, " I know that my Redeemer liveth." 
 
 Near him is Gay, the favourite of the Duke of Queensbury, 
 who erected the monument, witli mask, tragedy, daggers, and 
 other devices, emblematic of the kind of literature in which 
 he excelled. The short epitaph by himself has been censured 
 for its profane levity : 
 
 Life is a jest and all things show it : 
 I thought so once, and now I know it." 
 
 Below this epitaph is another by his friend Pope. 
 
 Next is RowE, and his only daughter, author of several 
 fine tragedies, with an epitaph by Pope. 
 
POET'S CORNER. I35 
 
 The walls are so crowded with monuments that it must 
 have been difficult to assign places for the more modern 
 poets. Three great master spirits of different centuries are 
 on the wall in social proximity — the bard of Avon, Milton, 
 and the bard of Ednam. They will never be eclipsed. 
 
 Shakspeare is exquisitely wrought. His bust rests on a 
 projecting base, and is as much admired as his sublime lines 
 on a scroll : 
 
 The cloud-capt towers, the gorgeous palaces, 
 The solemn temples, the great globe itself, 
 Yea, all which it inherits, shall dissolve, 
 And like the baseless fabric of a vision. 
 Leave not a wreck behind. Tempest. 
 
 On the pedestal are heads of three of his principal charac- 
 ters — Henry Y., Richard HI. and Queen Elizabeth. The 
 most powerful influence has not been able to have his remains 
 removed from Stratford to Westminster Abbey. 
 
 A little to the right is James Thomson, author of the 
 Seasons, and other poetical works. His left arm leans on a 
 pedestal, with a book in one hand, and the cap of Liberty in 
 the other. The sculptor has made him bald : as I never 
 saw the living bard with his hat off, I cannot dispute his 
 judgment : but having seen his original picture at Ednam, 
 I can say the bust is not a likeness. On the pedestal are the 
 Seasons in bas-relief, and a little boy offers him a laurel 
 crown. At the foot of the figure is an ancient harp and the 
 tragic mask. The whole design is very beautiful. In the 
 panel below, 
 
 Tutor'd by thee, sweet Poetry exalts 
 Her voice to ages, and informs the page 
 With music, image, sentiment and thought, 
 Never to die ! 
 
 I visited the Abbey daily, lingering like a midnight ghost 
 am.ong these dormitories of the dead with a perpetual charm. 
 
 In the Poet's Corner are about thirty distinguished charac- 
 ters, besides as many poets. The gifted author of the Night 
 Thoughts and Pope his contemporary, are not here. Pope, 
 
136 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 who was quite crabbed in his lifetime, affected contempt for 
 the company of poets in general, so mnch so as even to refuse 
 to rest beside them in death ! This feeling of his own immense 
 importance is utterly unworthy of a noble mind, whatever 
 may have been his tenets, Christian or infidel. The absence 
 of a memorial to his memory is not accidental. 
 
 Here are Prior, Philips, author of a poem on Cider, Ma- 
 son, " elegant, correct, and pious," Butler, the author of 
 Hudibras, whose cenotaph was erected by the Lord Mayor 
 of London, "that he who was destitute of all things when 
 alive, might not want a monument when dead." 
 
 Under Butler is Edmund Spenser, author of the Faery 
 Queen, the great model of great modern poems. The Minstrel, 
 Castle of Indolence, Childe Harold. The piety and quaint- 
 ness of his epitaph is worthy of regard : 
 
 Heare lyeth (expecting the second 
 Comminge of our Saviour Christ 
 Jesus) the body of Edmond Spenser, 
 The Prince of Poets in his tyme ; 
 "Whose divine spirrit needs noe 
 other witnesse than the works 
 Which he left behinde him. 
 He was born in London in the years 1553, 
 And died in the yeare 1598. 
 
 The medallion of Gray is handsome. His nose has a 
 famous arch, (like Southey's,) the very sight of which will 
 be enough to insure to them enduring remembrance. The 
 Lyric Muse, in relief, holds a medallion of the author of 
 the Elegy in a Country Churchyard, and points to the bust 
 of Milton directly above, 
 
 Ben Jonson is of fine marble : the epitaph, " O Rare Ben 
 JonsonV is a "well-done," yet "rare" morceau for brevity, 
 
 Chaucer's is a curious Gothic monument, once beautiful, 
 now defaced by time, like his works, which have given place 
 to modern poetry. He was the father of English poetry. 
 
 Cowley is plain and expressive, with a chaplet twined 
 round an urn, from which a flame rises. The Latin inscrip- 
 
MOxNUMENTS. I37 
 
 tion styles him "the Pindar, Horace, and Virgil of England ! 
 the delight, ornament, and admiration of his age !" What 
 an age of extravagance his must have been ! 
 
 In the pavement, two pieces of hluish marble a foot square 
 denote the resting-place of Samuel Johnson, LL. D. and 
 Thomas Campbell, author of the Pleasures of Hope. Gar- 
 rick, Sheridan, and others, are also buried in f'-ont of 
 Shakspeare^s monument. 
 
 Opposite the choir in the most conspicuous part of the 
 Abbey, stands the full-length, graceful, and all bu.t speaking 
 form of Dryden. 
 
 Among the distinguished women in the Poet's Corner, is 
 a monument to Anne of Cleves, a divorced queen of Henry 
 VIH. and Anne, queen of Richard III., the great Earl of 
 Warwick's daughter, who was poisoned by that human fiend 
 Richard, to make way for another; but he was slain at Bos- 
 worth before the marriage. 
 
 One of the most admired for novelty is Nightingale and 
 his lady. Death, wnth grim visage, is slyly stealing from 
 the tomb, aiming his unerring dart at the dying wife clasped 
 to the bosom of her husband, who is struck with horror and 
 despair at his approach. 
 
 The Abbey contains nearly five hundred monuments of 
 illustrious persons, such as Fox, Pitt, Chatham, Canning, 
 Burney, Wilberforce, Major Andre : and here are the 
 great Dr. Watts and Sir Isaac Newton. 
 
 " But who can count the stars of heaven ? 
 Who sing their influence on this lower world ?" 
 
 The best interior view is by the entrance between the 
 "towers, where a scene of awful solemnity bursts upon the 
 astonished beholder. Hundreds of monuments are ranged 
 in the long and magnificent aisles, and the noble range of 
 pillars supporting the lofty roof, finally terminates by a 
 sweep. On the arches of the pillars are galleries of double 
 columns covering the side aisles and lighted I y a middle 
 12* 
 
138 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 range of windows. The Abbey is admirably lighted, being 
 neither dusky nor dazzling. Nine chapels are inclosed in this 
 spacious fabric, which is in the form of a cross three hundred 
 and seventy-five feet long. The chapel of Henry VII. is the 
 w^onder of the world. A writer says " it is the admiration 
 of the Liniverse : such perfection appears in every part — so 
 far exceeding human excellence, that it appears knit together 
 by the fingers of angels pursuant to the direction of Omni- 
 potence." Of course, I took a seat in the chair of state in 
 which Queen Elizabeth was crowned. It has a couchant 
 lion at each corner. There are two of these chairs which 
 have been used at coronations since Edward I. 
 
 Here lies Mary Queen of Scots, who was beheaded at 
 Fotheringay Castle, Northamptonshire, her remains having 
 been privately removed from Peterborough Cathedral by 
 James I. and entombed in a vault beneath her monument. 
 Here rests, under a lofty and magnificent monument, her 
 proud rival Queen Elizabeth. They who in life were in 
 deadly strife, now peaceably repose side by side in palaces 
 of death. Here are the princes murdered in the Tower by 
 Richard III. Their remains were exhumed and buried in 
 this chapel in the time of Charles II. after remaining buried 
 under the Bloody Tower one hundred and ninety-one years ! 
 
 To attempt a full description would be useless ; but if this 
 humble sketch should awaken in any reader a wish to see the 
 Abbey, the writer will be well rewarded. The cost of Henry 
 VII.'s chapel alone was equal to $2,000,000 ! The verger 
 took us through the chapels of St. Benedict, St. Edmund, St. 
 Nicholas, St. Paul, St. Erasmus, St. Islip, and St. John; but 
 so rapidly that it was impossible to scan the countless won- 
 ders with antiquarian niceness. My memoi'able visit to this 
 renowned Abbey seems to this day less like a reality than 
 some gorgeous midsummer dream. 
 
 To view Westminster Abbey on utilitarian principles, or 
 in reference to its adaptation to modern convenience, is to 
 
THE MUSIC. 139 
 
 stultify all judgment and common sense, A spirit like this 
 would annihilate all the glorious pictures at Verseilles, and 
 pull dovrn every beautiful spire in the land. Out upon it ! 
 
 The charge for seeing the chapels is only sixpence ; the 
 rest of the Abhey is free. This charge is very proper, as you 
 have one of the vergers, who conducts twelve persons at a 
 time, for an exponent. The twopenny charge for entering 
 St. Paul's has been lately abolished through the satirical 
 influence of the London Punch. 
 
 The sermon on Sunday morning was a rather able defence 
 of prescript forms, from the words, "When ye pray, say." 
 All the responses and Psalter were chanted; and though the 
 intonation of the prayers may seem especially absurd, yet 
 all who know anything of the sublime liturgy of the Church 
 of England will agree, that when performed in a devotional 
 spirit, it is like all heaven let down upon earth. The clear, 
 liquid alto, melting with the deep-swelling bass, produced a 
 stream of unearthly harmony — how true to the poet ! 
 
 In swarming cities vast, 
 Assembled men to the deep organ join 
 The long-resouding note, oft breeaking clear 
 At solemn pauses through the swelling bass ; 
 
 While the strange melody rolls through the long sombre 
 aisles and lofty arches, the stupendous fabric trembling with 
 the thunder-tones of the noble organ. The "Amen," caught 
 up by the choir at the end of every prayer, to me was more 
 beautiful than tongue can tell — rapturous, devotional — the 
 best type of the worship of a spiritual sphere. The day, the 
 the place, its wondrous historic records, the music, created 
 overpowering emotions. Even now I seem to hear the voice 
 of many waters, rising and fading — like a multitude of the 
 heavenly host departing into heaven, chanting "hallelujah, 
 for the Lord God omnipotent reigneth !" That soft, mel- 
 lifluous, prolonged " Amen" so fall of religion, has been lin- 
 
140 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Hampton Court is twelve miles from London;, and about 
 four from Pbichmond and Twickenham, all on the Thames. 
 No American traveller should fail to see them. Taking the 
 railway from Waterloo Bridge, in half an hour I was at 
 Hampton village. The palace is a prodigious pile, appa- 
 rently an eighth of a mile long, built of yellowish brick, in 
 the Tudor Gothic style. Henry VHI. demanded of Cardinal 
 Wolsey what he meant by thus rivalling royalty itself? He 
 replied with characteristic cunning, that it was the property 
 of the king ! This palace is a specimen of the luxury and 
 extravagance of that age. Here I saw two thousand pictures, 
 some of them good, others good for nothing : not a few are 
 large historical tapestries, full twenty feet square, remarka- 
 ble antiquities. It took two hours to pass the thirty large 
 spacious saloons, covered with paintings, ceiling and all. 
 
 Wolsey's Great Hall, or chapel, is fairly dazzling to view, 
 overloaded with ornaments; yet after beholding the simple 
 majesty of Westminster Abbey, it awakened surprise, it is 
 true, but without veneration. This might be owing partly 
 to disgust at the ambition and hypocrisy of Wolsey. 
 
 These abodes of departed greatness are no longer the royal 
 residence, which has been removed to Windsor Castle. 
 
 The extensive parks and palace gardens, in immortal lux- 
 uriance, greet the wondering eye. Long ranges of goodly 
 elm and lime trees — the wilderness of umbrageous shade — 
 the circular lake in the centre of Bushy Park — and a hun- 
 dred other things, render "royal Hampton's pile" all that is 
 historical, magnificent and inviting. " The Maze," laid out 
 in Henry's time, with its half a mile of labyrinthian walks, 
 is a great source of merriment : 
 
 "A raighty maze, but not without a plan." 
 
 Then there is the orangery, and the famous black Ham- 
 burgh grape vine, a hundred and fourteen feet long, its stem 
 thirty inches round, the whole inclosed in a glass palace. It 
 
POPE'S V^ILLA, GROTTO, AND GRAVE. 141 
 
 will bear two thousand bunches of a pound each. This fruit 
 is exclusively for Her Majesty's table, and hence these grapes 
 were very "sour grapes" for me ! 
 
 The very thought of being within four miles of Twicken- 
 ham fired me with instant resolution to see Pope's Villa. 
 There is no time like now ! Off I started a-foot, an unfash- 
 ionable yet devout pilgrim to the shrine of Genius. The 
 narrow, winding road lay along a level, luxuriant country, 
 and the high hawthorn hedges overshadowing half the street 
 afforded a fine shelter from the sun. Who has not felt the 
 impressive and poetic silence of the country at such a sea- 
 son of flowers and fragrance ? This I enjoyed with the live- 
 liest delight all the way from Hampton to Twickenham, 
 The town is neat, small and compact — a city in miniature. 
 Near the bank of the Thames I observed a splendid pagoda, 
 well enough almost anywhere else, but perfectly ridiculous 
 on the very site of Pope's villa. Above the fence directly 
 in front is a small sign-board — "Pope's Villa stood on this 
 spot till 1848 :" — to which ought to have been added — " when 
 it was torn down to make room for a pagoda, more fit — for 
 its present owner!" Yes! the rural and classic home of 
 Genius, consecrated by its holiest hours and efforts — the 
 board which wit and taste illumined — are struck down by 
 brutal hands, to build a shrine for its gold god — the same 
 that Israel worshipped. Even so the Turk spares not those 
 Pyramids whose years are entitled to reverence — from all but 
 savages. Yet the temple had better be burned to ashes than 
 profaned. On the opposite side of the street is another ele- 
 vated sign — "Pope's Grove." But where is the thing sig- 
 nified — the grove? Alas ! within that small three-cornered 
 inclosure there is not a tree — not even a venerable stump ! 
 Pope's willow — the sprout of which he found in a box of 
 sweetmeats from Constantinople, and from which sprang all 
 the weeping-willows in England and America — died fifty 
 years ago — no effort could stay death; but it bps a numerous 
 
142 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 weeping posterity. " No ideas you could form in the winter," 
 says Pope in a letter to a friend, " could make you imagine 
 what Twickenham is in this warm summer. Our river glit- 
 ters beneath the unclouded sun, at the same time that its 
 banks retain the verdure of showers; our gardens are offering 
 their first nosegays : our trees, like new acquaintance brought 
 happily together, are stretching their arms to meet each other, 
 and growing nearer and nearer every hour. The birds are 
 paying their thanksgiving songs for the new habitations I 
 have made them. My building rises high enough to attract 
 the eye and curiosity of the passenger from the river, where, 
 upon beholding a mixture of beauty and ruin, he inquires — 
 What house is falling, or what church is rising? So little 
 taste have our common Tritons for Vitruvius; whatever de- 
 light the poetical gods of the river may take in reflecting on 
 their streams, my Tuscan porticoes, or Ionic pilasters." 
 
 Luckily, I found the keeper of the villa grounds, who said 
 they were r^t public; but on learning an American's anxiety 
 to see Pope's grotto, he readily accompanied me through it. 
 Between its entrance and the Thames there may be fifty feet 
 of smooth sloping greensward. The height and width of the 
 grotto are about seven feet, and it extends to the street, as 
 well as I could guess, abont fifty feet. Over it is a level lawn 
 where stood the villa. The arch of the grotto is embedded 
 with marble, ores, spars, gem?., flint, and sea-shells. In 
 this romantic seclusion many of Pope's Moral Essays were 
 written : here often resorted the great men of his day. Mr. 
 Gillett, the keeper, kindly gave me a few specimens from the 
 arch, as memorials : he said a great many had been filched. 
 The grotto is not half as beautiful as when Pope was alive. 
 At the right of the entrance is a clear perennial spring, which 
 echoed through the grotto day and --.ight in Pope's time. I 
 drank from this stream that dripped from tiie conch of a 
 river-god into a reservoir of shells, in the same preservation 
 as the poet left it. In the corner of the grotto is a stone figure 
 
FOPE'S MONUMENT. 143 
 
 of a pilgrim with a scallop hat, a staff in his right hand, and 
 in his left, a book. Some have ridiculed Pope's taste; but 
 according to his own account, this cave was no mean affair. 
 A person might look out through an arcade of trees, and see 
 the sails on the river as through a perspective glass ; and on 
 shutting the door it changed to a kind of camera-obscura, 
 forming a picture of the silver Thames with its boats, and 
 the woody slopes beyond. But the lines "On his Grotto at 
 Twickenham," tell the poet's own story: 
 
 Thou who shalt drop "whera Thames' translucent wave 
 
 Shines a broad mirror through the shadowy cave, 
 
 "Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distil, 
 
 And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill, 
 
 Unpnlish'd gems no ray on pride bestow, 
 
 And latent metals innocently glow : 
 
 Approach. Great Nature studiously behold ! 
 
 And eye the mine without a wish for gold. 
 
 Approach ; but awful ! lo ! th' jEgerian grot, 
 
 Where nobly pensive St. John sat and thought ; 
 
 "Where British sighs from dying "Wyndham stole, 
 
 And the bright flame was shot through Marchmout's soul, 
 
 Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor, 
 
 "Who dare to love their country and be poor ! 
 
 In the heart of the town is a venerable church, which I 
 took for St. Mary's, and entered the churchyard by a turn- 
 stile, passing along the footpath running diagonally across 
 to the next street, a common feature in English towns. On 
 a slab in the church wall is a memorial to Pope's female 
 servant, which at first I mistook for that of the poet. A 
 passenger of whom I inquired went with me some distance 
 to the clerk's, vv^io as kindly opened the church, the steeple 
 of which he assured me was five hundred and fifty years old. 
 He pointed to a large P cut in the granite floor in the middle 
 aisle. In the vault below this lies Pope. The numerous 
 monuments give the church a solemn aspect, striking the 
 beholder with awe. Here are buried Pope's father and mother. 
 On the gallery vv^all is a fine tablet of grayish marble in a 
 pyramid form, with his medallion profile in relief: — 
 
144 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 ALEXANDER POPE, 
 M. H. 
 
 Gulielmus Episcopus 
 
 Gloucesteriensis AmicitisB 
 
 Causa Fac. Cur. 
 
 MDCCLXI. 
 
 Poeta Loquitur. 
 For one -who would not be buried in "Westminster Abbey. 
 
 Heroes and kings, vour distance keep, 
 In peace let one poor poet sleep, 
 "Who never flatter'd folks like you : 
 Let Homer blush, and Virgil too ! 
 
 No doubt they will ! My first impression was that Bishop 
 Warburton, who reared the monument, wrote these verses, 
 thus playing spokesman for his friend ; but on reading them 
 in Pope's works, my w^onder was even greater. Could "the 
 poet speak" with such boastful vanity of himself? Who 
 else could have been in his mind? But it seems after all he 
 could not "sleep in peace;" for I was informed that when 
 the vault was opened many years ago, either to ascertain 
 the state of his remains, or make repairs, by some -wily ma- 
 noeuvring his skull was borrowed for a few hours, and another 
 returned instead ! It has been said that £50 were paid to 
 accomplish this scheme, and that Pope's skull now figures in 
 some phrenological curiosity-shop ! 
 
 After my visit to this lovely haunt of the Muses, I had no 
 heart to think of anything else for some time. I returned on 
 foot to Hampton Court; and while waiting till a late hour 
 for the up-train, had much conversation with the railway 
 servants, who showed me as much attention as if I had been 
 Alexander Pope or Cardinal Wolsey. They asked many ques- 
 tions about the States ; and observed that they were on duty 
 from six in the morning till nine at night, for about $4 a week ! 
 " How do you contrive to live at London prices ?" " 0, we 
 don't live — we exist, and go to a cheaper market." Though 
 intelligent and competent, they could not get cash to emigrate, 
 and I tried to make the poor fellows feel contented. 
 
CHAPTER XIV. 
 3£l{c|)montJ— 33eters|)am— mctD— 3[^ifli)flatc— ?l^amj)steatr. 
 
 Remembrance oft shall haunt the shore 
 Where Thames in summer "wreaths is drest. 
 
 ♦ Collins. 
 
 My long-cherished M^ish was to see Richmond. At nine 
 one morning in July, I stepped on board a steamboat at Lon- 
 don bridge, and gradually emerged from the thick smoke of 
 the city. Every steamboat pipe made a low bow at each of 
 the majestic bridges. We leave the gloomy old walls of 
 Lambeth palace and Lollards' Tower on the left, or Surrey 
 side, and the site of the theatre where Shakspeare performed 
 opposite. The buoyant breeze gently stirs the treetops at 
 Vauxhall Gardens, a singular contrast to the Penitentiary on 
 the Middlesex side. Haifa mile beyond is Chelsea, and its 
 famous hospital with 20,000 pensioners. In the church is 
 buried Sir Hans Sloane, founder of the British Museum, The 
 Battersea bridge is an old blackish, wooden structure: in the 
 church on the other side of the Thames, are the remains of 
 Bolingbroke, the friend of Pope and Swift. At Putney, the 
 historian Gibbon was born; and in its church, Pitt is buried. 
 We come now to Fulham palace, the beautiful residence of 
 the bishops of London. Nature now puts on lovely drapery, 
 and before reaching Hammersmith, you behold her in all the 
 beautiful variety of green lawns, and glorious trees with 
 luxuriant foliage. Nor must we omit a careful look at the 
 fine suspension bridge. Here I was fairly " turned round" by 
 the graceful sweep of the Thames. The old Chiswick church 
 where Hogarth the painter is buried, is very picturesque. 
 Then comes the cheerful village of Barnes, overlooking the 
 Thames. In the churchyard you will see the tomb of Edward 
 13 
 
146 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Rose, who gave a legacy to the poor, on condition that rose- 
 trees were kept ilonrishing round his grave. He wished his 
 memory to have the same blooming fragrance. Half revealed 
 through goodly cedars appears the seat of the Duke of Devon- 
 shire, where Fox and Canning expired. The lovely and won- 
 derful objects that crowd together in quick succession, fill the 
 mind with a pleasing distraction; yet there is a feeling of 
 regret at the want of companionship to enjoy, or the ability 
 to catch and painty the living features of the scenery, in 
 glowing hues. I see the Elysian grove of Chiswick, and 
 the celebrated Horticultural Gardens; but at the next twist 
 of the Thames, as by the turn of a kaleidoscope, these beau- 
 tiful creations are lost, and the charming village of Strand- 
 on-the-Green springs into bright existence. Here lived and 
 died the notable Joe Miller. 
 
 Yonder handsome stone bridge leads to the famous Royal 
 Gardens of Kew ! The Thames here may be two hundred 
 feet wide. The turbid waters of London have gradually 
 become limpid; and the same change has passed upon the 
 air. Our crowded boat moves beautifully over the smooth, 
 translucent stream, scarcely rippled by the softly-plashing 
 wheels. The scenery on both sides of the Thames is rather 
 level till you come to Richmond, yet this feature is amply 
 redeemed by its extreme beauty. 
 
 Ho ! Richmond bridge, a superb russet stone structure, is 
 now in sight, with its graceful arches and rich parapets. On 
 the right slope is Caen Lodge, the tasteful villa of Dr. Barry. 
 Swans and cygnets are out on pleasure excursions, rowing 
 themselves about in irregular circles, often pausing to admire 
 their handsome forms in the liquid mirror, as in proud rivalry 
 of yonder pleasure barge, splendid enough for Cleopatra, the 
 deck palace crowded with fashion, moving slowly on to the 
 music of the band playing " Sweet Lass of Richmond Hill." 
 Over against Twickenham Meadows with their lofty shade 
 trees is Richmond Hill, bold, green, and glorious, rising well 
 
PETERSHAM LODGE. 147 
 
 from the Thames, with woody hill above hill \ while groves, 
 extensive parks, and long-ranging terraces of glittering man- 
 sions, intermingled with bowery trees, form a bright, |)old, 
 diversified picture of surpassing splendour. 
 
 Betw;een the base of this classic hill and the Thames are 
 the luxuriant Petersham Meadows, and a mile from Richmond 
 bridge is Petersham, one of the loveliest villages upon earth, 
 the residence of the aristocracy and nobility. At Petersham 
 Lodge, I handed the housekeeper a card of introduction from 
 a clergyman of Manchester to Colonel Powney, of the East 
 India service, inquiring if I could see him. 
 
 " What do you want of him. Sir ?" 
 
 "Why, I want to see him, to be sure !" 
 
 "But I must know all about your business," said the old 
 lady, with a gingerly, curious look through her spectacles. 
 
 " My business is with Colonel P. You won't understand 
 it if I tell you." 
 
 "But I must know all about it. Sir." 
 
 ",Well, then, if you must know, I wish to inquire about 
 Thomson the poet's monument " 
 
 " Thomson, Thomson — I don't know him — never heard of 
 him !" said the old woman, with bewildered embarrassment. 
 
 " I knew you didn't ! But if you'll be kind enough to send 
 in this card to Colonel P. and he does not see me, I will 
 trouble you no more. Depend upon it, 'twill be all right." 
 
 After a pause, thinking perhaps she had carried what 
 Lord Carlisle would call her " pig-headed adhesiveness" too 
 far, it was agreed to. The card was sent to the adjoining 
 mansion, and in five minutes an answer was returned. 
 
 "Colonel P. will see you in a few minutes, Sir." 
 
 "Ah ! I told you it would be all right !" She was now 
 very sociable and agile. 
 
 "Won't you take a glass of ale?" 
 
 I said something about dyspepsia, and declined. 
 
 " What's the dyspepsia?" 
 
148 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 I found her as wise about this as on poets and poetry ; but 
 I was so well pleased with my success, as not to reply by 
 wishing she might know by blissful experience. 
 
 Colonel P. received me with great courtesy, and enter- 
 tained me agreeably an hour with a hundred strange curio- 
 ties about his tasteful villa and ample gardens; a Gyrah bull 
 from the East Indies, with a prodigious hump, and a sairus, 
 five feet high, resembling an ostrich. This amiable little 
 bird chased me round and round; and though I hid behind 
 the trunk of a large tree, the bellicose rascal found me out, 
 and when I was off my guard, struck a savage blow with 
 his bill. His dancing was now over, and for this breach of 
 hospitality he received sundry thwacks from his owner's cane, 
 and then returned with distressful screams to his rural 
 abode. These animals are so fierce and adroit that they 
 will pick out a person's eyes in an unwary moment. 
 
 Here stands the original summer-house where Gay wrote 
 his fables. Petersham Lodge was probably once the seat of 
 the Duke of Queensbury. His favourite, Gay, is known to 
 have abode with him many years, till his death in 1732. 
 
 Colonel P. pointed to the beautiful seat of the king of 
 the Belgians ; Marble Hill, residence of the Duke of Mon- 
 trose ; Colonel Peel's, brother of Sir Robert ; Ham House, the 
 seat of the Earl of Dysart; the Duke of Buccleuch's; the 
 Marquis of Lansdowne's; Devonshire Cottage, seat of the 
 Hon. Mrs. Lamb, sister of Lord Melbourne ; and many other 
 villas of great beauty. Claremont, about three miles from 
 Petersham, was the residence of Louis Philippe, king of 
 France, who died herein August, 1850. 
 
 My impression that there was a monument to Thomson 
 on the bank of the Thames, was derived from Collins' Ode: 
 
 In yonder grave a Druid lies, 
 
 Where slowly winds the stealing -wave. 
 
 Colonel P. had never heard of any such monument, but gave 
 me a note to the clergyman of the Richmond church, where 
 
THOMSON'S GRAVE. 149 
 
 he is buried. After dinner. I reluctantly left the delightful 
 abode of this true Christian gentleman with feelings of high 
 esteem, such as we never know when it is not founded on 
 free-hearted hospitality. 
 
 Richmond has two Parks on the hill, one of them contain- 
 ing two thousand acres ! The New Terrace opened in the 
 reign of William IV. overlooks the winding course of the 
 silver Thames, sparkling along the green vales, half hid by 
 groups of trees, betweei. which you have glimpses of the rich 
 landscape of groves and shining villas below and beyond. On 
 a board nailed to a tree were some good descriptive verses. 
 
 After a fruitless search for the minister, I found the clerk's 
 wife, who kindly went with me to the old church of St. Mary 
 Magdalene, and pointing to the right hand corner on entering, 
 said, "There it is. Sir — you may look at it as long as you 
 like," and withdrew. 
 
 There I stood, with a solemn awe, like that we feel at the 
 grave of a dear friend or brother, whose benefits we hold in 
 grateful memory. From the brass tablet I transcribed — 
 
 In the Earth below this Tablet, 
 
 are the remains of 
 
 JAMES THOMSON, 
 
 Author of the beautiful Poems entitled. The Seasons, 
 
 Castle of Indolence, &c. 
 
 Who died at Richmond on the 27th day of August, 
 
 and was buried here on the 29th, old stile, 1.748. 
 
 The Earl of Buchan, unwilling that so good a man, and so sweet a 
 
 Poet should remain without a memorial, has denoted the 
 
 place of interment for the satisfaction of his 
 
 admirers, in the year of our Lord 1792. 
 
 Father of light and life ! thou Good Supreme ' 
 teach me what is good ! teach me Thyself ! 
 Save me from folly, vanity and vice, 
 From every low pursuit, and feed my soul 
 With knowledge, conscious peace, and virtue pure ; 
 Sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss \.. .Winter. 
 
 I stood at the tomb of a great genius, and venture to intro- 
 duce my musings on that sacred spot. 
 * 13* 
 
150 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Poet of Nature ! with extatic thrill 
 I've scann'd her pictures bursting on my sight, 
 Tinted by thee, inspired with heavenly skill. 
 The wiWgrove, glittering stream, and sylvan height ' 
 The virgin Spring; the Smnmer landscape bright ; 
 The fruitful Autumn and his golden sheaves, 
 To cheer the swain in Wintefs dreary blight : 
 Dear Priest of Nature ! how my spirit grieves 
 To see thy harp with thee fallen with Time's withered kcve's 
 
 God of the Seasons ! 'tis thy minstrel's dust 
 
 That sleeps on Thames' green bank, beneath this trep ! 
 
 Yet shall this tomb resign its awful trust. 
 
 To sweep the strings of heavenly harmony. 
 
 And weave new notes of nameless ecstasy : 
 
 may I join that song of endless years ! 
 Range heavenly hills, sweet poet ! and wdth thee, 
 Where our great Parent dries our falling tears. 
 
 Admire great Nature's works .where Nature's God appears ! 
 
 1 am a weary pilgrim of the seas, 
 
 With burning zeal to see thy sacred shrine : 
 ! more refreshing than the evening breeze 
 That gently stirs yon softly-murmuring pine ! 
 Rest ! gentle spirit of the tuneful Nine ! 
 O'er the dark ocean flood I will return ; 
 And when a tear shall wet these eyes of mine, 
 Remembrance, joyous as the morn, shall turn, 
 And wreath fresh-blooming flowers around thy votive urn ! 
 
 Where Tweed and Teviot in soft confluence glide, 
 Memory shall flit o'er the romantic dale, 
 'Mid Jed and Dryburgh's groves on the hillside, 
 And Ednam's lonely song-enchanted vale. 
 Teviot ! thy silver stream shall Memory hail, 
 With Zephyr soft communing o'er the mead. 
 In voiceful whispers of a speechless tale ; 
 Till, like consenting souls in love agreed, 
 Thou flowest to embrace the bosoin of the Tweed. 
 
 The pensile willow^s by the silver flood 
 Shall dip themselves in Thames' translucent wave, 
 And weep soft-trickling tears. The trembling wood 
 Sigh plaintive murmurs o'er their Poet's grave. 
 And wildwinds dirge from chine and dripping cave. 
 At midnight hour, on Richmond's wood-crowned hillj 
 Whose greensward banks the moonlit w^aters lave, 
 A spell-like silence all the air shall fill. 
 O'er Kew's enchanted bowers tlat shade his domicil ! ik 
 
SUMMER PICTURES. 151 
 
 The Saxon name of Richmond was " Shene," which means 
 splendour. The Star and Garter is the best hotel, where I 
 dined on a subsequent visit. This hotel has been chartered 
 for the season of the "World's Fair" by the Emperor of Rus- 
 sia for the neat round sum of £100,000 ! It is at the verge 
 of the large Park, and its cool retreats, with seats. At the 
 end of the terrace is painted a "Ha-ha !" a term originating 
 from the complete deception of a painting, representing in per- 
 spective the continuation of a walk, causing the beholder to 
 exclaim, " Ha-ha !" Within the inclosure is a green hillock, 
 called " Henry Vni.'s Mound," where the butcher king stood 
 and heard the cannon announce the death of Anne Boleyn 
 on Tower Hill. Cholmondeley Walk along the riverside, is 
 charming. Indeed, there is nothing unsightly — all is beauty. 
 
 Richmond is classic ground — the Muses' Hill. Its shining 
 pictures are painted indelibly on my memory; but to transfer 
 them is quite another thing. As almost any other description 
 will come short of reality, I shall let the great rural poet paint 
 a panoramic picture of immortal beauty, amid his cw^n loved 
 haunts, where I now stand ! Let us with him 
 
 Ascend, 
 While radiant Summer opens all its pride, 
 Thy hill, delightful SheneJ Here let us sweep 
 The boundless landscape : now the raptur'd eye, 
 Exulting, swift to huge Augusta send, 
 Now to the Sister Hills that skirt her plain, 
 To lofcy Harrow now, and now to where 
 Majestic Windsor lifts his princely brow. 
 In lovely contrast to this glorious view, 
 Calmly magnificent, then will we turn 
 To where the silver Thames first rural grows. 
 There let the feasted eye unwearied stray : 
 Luxurious, there, rove through the pendent woods 
 That nodding hang o'er Harrington's retreat ; 
 And. stooping thence to Ham's embowering walks, 
 Beneath whose shades in spotless peace retired 
 With Her, the pleasing partner of his heart, 
 The worthy Queensbury yet laments his Gay, 
 And polished Cornbury woos the willing Muse. 
 . SloY/- let us trace the matchless Vale of Thames : 
 
152 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Fair- winding up to where the Muses haunt 
 In Twit'nam's bowers, and for their Pope implore 
 * The healing God ; to royal Hampton's pile, 
 
 To Clermont's terraced height, and Esher's groves, 
 
 Where in the sweetest solitude, embraced 
 
 By the soft windings of the silent Mole, 
 
 From courts and senates Pelham finds repose. 
 
 Enchanting vale ! beyond whate'er the Muse 
 
 Has of Achaia or Hesperia sung I 
 
 vale of bliss ! softly-swelling hills ! 
 
 On which the Power of Cultivation lies, 
 
 And joys to see the wonders of his toil ! 
 
 Heavens ! what a goodly prospect spreads around, 
 Of hills, and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires, 
 And glittering towns, and gilded streams, till all 
 The stretching landscape into smoke decays ! 
 
 Not a spot is named in these lines that I could not see, 
 while walking along those glorious heights, with Thomson's 
 Summer open before me. With such a landscape before the 
 poet, what need was there of fancy pictures ? Near some fine 
 old cedars below, formerly stood Lord Huntingtower's seat, 
 described as " Harrington's retreat." Highgate and Hamp- 
 stead, (the Sister Hills,) Harrow, and Windsor Castle, fifteen 
 miles from Richmond, were all in the range of my eye. One 
 knows not which to admire most — the scenery or the painting. 
 
 On another occasion I visited Kew by steamboat to Chel- 
 sea, and thence on foot along the Cheyne Walk through 
 Chiswick and Strand-on-the-Green, crossing the Kew bridge 
 to Surrey. Here I met with a gentleman from Wimbledon, 
 who took great interest in my inquiries, observing that like 
 myself, he had long wished to see Thomson's house, but like 
 a thousand things that we can do any time, he never took 
 the pains to visit it, thoughiie lived only five miles off! and 
 since an American had come three thousand miles, he thought 
 he might walk three; and proposed to accompany me. The 
 reader, whether fond of poetry or not, ought to be; and I hope 
 will go with us. Let us honour the memory of those whose 
 writings have contributed largely to the cause of religion and 
 virtue. Even their familiar haunts are dear to us, and are 
 
ROSEDALE HOUSE, THOMSON'S COTTAGE. 153 
 
 fast fading from recollection, though their works never .>an. 
 Though no worshipper of relics, I love the very ground such 
 men have trod, for they were the friends of mankind, 
 
 Mr. Strachan walked with me to the end of Kew Lane, 
 two miles from the Thames, where we at last found Rosedale 
 House, now the residence of Lady Shaftsbury. The porter 
 said her Ladyship was asleep: but concluded to admit us. 
 Some addition has been made to Thomson's cottage, which 
 still forms the entrance to the enlarged building. I was glad 
 to see the original cottage just as the poet left it. His table 
 is a round three-legged stand. On a scroll of satin-wood in 
 the centre, is inscribed — 
 
 On this Table James Thomson constantly wrote. 
 It was therefore purchased of his servant, who 
 also gave these brass hooks, on which his hat and 
 cane were hung in this his Sitting-Room. — F. B. 
 
 These are initials of Hon. Frances Boscawen, former owner 
 of the estate. There is another inscription on the wall — 
 
 James Thomson died at this place, on the 27th day 
 of August, 1748, (0. S.)— F. B. 
 
 Behind the house is his garden, a scene of wild, pensive 
 beauty, fit for the gorgeous dreams of his Castle of Indolence. 
 Here stands, untouched by the hand of improvement, the 
 self-same summer-house where he wrote, overhung by an 
 enormous old chesnut tree, green and flourishing, though 
 decaying at the trunk. The keeper, observing my intense 
 interest, gave me some pieces of the summer-house, crusted 
 with many coats of dark paint, the inside crumbling to the 
 touch. He also gave me some of the veneering that had 
 become loosened from the edge of his table. Well, I shall 
 keep them ! A white oval tablet over the alcove says, 
 
 Here 
 
 Thomson sang 
 
 The Seasons 
 
 and their chanj,^^. 
 
 This sylvan retreat is about ten feet in height and width, 
 in the shape of half a hexagon, with a seat running round 
 
154 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the inside, and an ohlong tatle, with old-fashioned crooked 
 legs. On a brass tablet is engraved, 
 
 This Table was the Property of 
 
 James Thomson, 
 And always stood in this Seat. 
 
 On several boards hanging inside the alcove are poetic and 
 prose inscriptions, placed there by admirers since his death. 
 
 His garden is a luxuriant little wilderness, where I saw 
 two wonderful trees — a Russian and a Lebanon fir, or silver 
 cedar — the wide branches sweeping down upon the green 
 velvet lawn just as if they had been lopped. The immortal 
 freshness of the trees and shrubbery; the deep, sombre shades 
 here and there pierced by sunbeams; the sylvan tracery 
 edging the virgin lawns; the mossy glades; the fragrant 
 flowers of strange hues expanding their broad petals; all 
 show with what care and taste everything has been preserved. 
 Among the trees, many of them the growth of more than a 
 century, were the tulip tree, catalpa, Spanish chesnut, tupelo, 
 oak, hickory, American ash, and ilex, an evergreen. 
 
 On my way back to London I passed the Kew Gardens, 
 which were closed that day. The carriages were returning 
 from the funeral of the Duke of Cambridge, Victoria's uncle. 
 Above the lofty trees within, an unique Chinese pagoda of 
 ten stories, rises to a height nearly equal to St. Paul's, Broiad- 
 way, New- York. 
 
 Highgate is one of the "lungs of London." My friend 
 Payne Kenyon Kilbourne, of Litchfield, had politely favoured 
 me with a letter of introduction, accompanied with some 
 doc^^ments, to William Kilburn, an East India broker, which 
 I delivered at his counting-house in St. Mary Axe. Although 
 it was the busiest part of the morning, when English mer- 
 chants are said to be rather gruff", Mr. K. received me in the 
 very kindest manner, without frigid formality; and on taking 
 leave I was not "bowed out" in a hurry. On calling at my 
 friend Mr. Cutter's, of Regent street, that evening, I found 
 
HIGHGATE HILL-ENGLISH SOCIETY. 155 
 
 a note, which is here introduced as a single example of the 
 real good feeling that greeted me everywhere : 
 
 London, 6th July, 1850. 
 
 Dear Sir : It will give me pleasure if you will partake of my family dinner 
 on Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday next, at six o'clock; and I shall feel 
 obliged by a line, to say if any of those days will suit you. 
 
 My house is No. 2 Holly Terrace, Highgate Hill; and there is an omnibus 
 from Tottenham Court Road, corner of Oxford street, at ten minutes past five, 
 which passes the door. There are also other omnibuses from the same place 
 to Kentish Town, about a mile short, about every quarter of an hour, if you 
 should feel disposed to come up earlier, to see something of the country. 
 
 I remain, my dear Sir, yonrs very truly, WILLIAM KILBURN. 
 
 On my way up Highgate Hill, I passed the stone on which 
 Whittington sat, when he ran away from his master in Lon- 
 don, and heard the merry chime of St. Mary-le-Bow, Cheap- 
 side, seeming to say — " Turn again Whittington ! thrice Lord 
 Mayor of London !" He did turn again. He went back and 
 served out his apprenticeship ; and that strange prophecy of 
 the Bow bells was strangely fulfilled. So trifling an incident 
 as this has turned the fortunes of many a one for life ! This 
 is a historical fact. The story about Whittington's cat, by 
 which he is made to realize more than some California gold- 
 seekers do, is apocryphal, and knowing the golden credulity 
 of our times, I guess it will not be safe to indorse it ! 
 
 The scenery from Highgate Hill is splendid beyond com- 
 pare. There lay, in the smoky distance, the mighty metro- 
 polis — a picture too grand for description ! Mr. K. pointed 
 from his window to Hampstead, a lovely swell, sprinkled 
 with shining suburban villas. Highgate and Hampstead are 
 called the Sister Hills, a very fashionable neighbourhood. 
 
 The polite refinement of this family was as charming as ] 
 their humility of manner — dignified without senseless osten- ( 
 tation. The English do not invite you to stare at them, or 
 
 " The needless pomp of gaudy furniture." 
 
 They are so easy and conversible — they will not let you feel # 
 embarrassment ; and hence, you are happy in their society. 
 
CHAPTER XV. 
 
 I turn — and France displays her bright domain. 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Having made up my mind to see France, I chose one of the 
 longest routes by steam from London to Dunkerqne, though 
 Dover and Calais, the shortest, is generally preferred. After 
 getting my passport signed at the American Embassy in 
 Piccadilly, and paying five francs to get it certified at the 
 French office in King William street, I was ready for the 
 voyage next morning ; but by a strange mistake I went to 
 London bridge instead of the Tower stairs, half a mile far- 
 ther, and found to my inexpressibie vexation the ship was oif ! 
 Although the oar-boatmen knew this, one of them fleeced 
 me of a shilling under pretence of taking me aboard. After 
 the usual hurry-flurry from so great a disappointment, I was 
 reconciled from sad necessity to wait two days for the next 
 packet, especially as my ticket was good for another day. A 
 person of whom I inquired the way, answered me thus — 
 " Look here, my friend ! — take my advice : leave your port- 
 menteau at some house where it will be safe — " But the 
 tempter quickly vanished at an emphatic "Get out !" 
 
 Two days after, I left at eight in the morning, passing out 
 by the North Sea, leaving the famous R,amsgate and Margate 
 situated on a bold bluff at the right. My plan was to visit 
 Brussels, the city of palaces, and the field of Waterloo, only 
 nine miles thence. The captain kindly changed my ticket, 
 (for which I had paid but 16s. 6d.) to Lille, in France, where 
 the railway turns off" into Belgium. I arrived at Dunkerque 
 at dusk, with the peculiarly strange feelings of a traveller 
 entering such a country as France the first time, when ima- 
 
A NIGHT AT DUNKERQUE. 157 
 
 gination has full play. If Britain was a new world of won- 
 ders, France was marvellous — utterly unlike anything I had 
 seen in Britain or my own country. I felt like Selkirk for 
 solitude, but could not say I was monarch of anything I 
 surveyed, not even myself and valise; and felt thankful 
 that an American clergyman, who had been through the 
 gauntlet, advised me to take nothing else. All the luggage 
 was taken to a small inspection-office near the wharf. One 
 of the fierce gen d'armes, with a red protuberance in his 
 cap, about the size of a cat-tail, grabbed my passport from 
 my hand, leaving me to wonder at French politeness, and 
 how I was to get it again; for hardly a word of French could 
 I speak. A dozen porters instantly besieged me after my 
 'luggage had been overhauled; but I resisted all attacks upon 
 it like a hero, though I took all their cards. I walked on 
 a couple of miles through the gloomy old town with houses 
 eighty or a hundred feet high, the narrow sidewalks paved 
 with cobble-stone, the common people taking the middle of 
 the street. reader ! if you are a stranger to the horrors, may 
 you always be ! I was alone, in France, and ill too, and 
 could hardly help bursting into tears ; and what added to my 
 desolation, I could make nobody understand me. Monsieur 
 would chatter something that he could not make me com- 
 prehend, and then, with a shrug of disappointment, go on 
 his way. At last I selected a card at haphazard — the Hotel 
 du Chapeau Rouge. My despondency was such that I shed 
 tears on entering; but my delight and surprise were unspeak- 
 able at the voice of a fine young lady, who answered me in 
 good English. On asking how I was to get my passport, she 
 said, '-The servant will go with you, Sir." How fortunate 
 the choice of a hotel where English was spoken ! The price 
 for a good room was but one franc, with every attention. 
 The Hotel de Flandre is another of the same sort. 
 
 Next morning, I had an amusing time at a restaurant. I 
 wanted an egg; and though I trid every talismanic word, 
 14 
 
158 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 with every possible variety of accent and gesticulation, the 
 landlord and his wife could only look at me with unutterable 
 anxiety, and then at each other, exclaiming, " Mon Dieu !" 
 At length they flew off; and I succeeded in getting — what 
 think you, after all this fuss? — a glass of brandy ! The host 
 and his wife were more chagrined than ever when they knew 
 it was not what I wanted. I then sketched an egg on a piece 
 of paper, when they clapped their hands with joy, and cried 
 out, "Un ceuf !" Yes ! I got the egg, it is true, but — raw ! 
 at which we all laughed ; and here the story ends. So much 
 for neglecting to learn French ! 
 
 While waiting for the railway, I strolled about the rural 
 suburbs, the pleasant groves and farms, but saw no bright 
 villas — nothing but a few farm-cottages of the poor. At nine 
 I took the railway for Lille, where I arrived in the afternoon. 
 The day was beautiful, with occasional light showers, after 
 which the sun would look joyously down from the blue serene 
 on the hills and vales of France, covered with green and 
 yellow harvests. The country is not so bold as England, 
 though very picturesque. Men, women and children dressed 
 in blue blouse, were out in the fields harvesting. The country 
 was under high culture, without a foot of neglected land. 
 Square and oblong plots and strips Of grain and herbage of 
 different colours, spread over the vales and undulating hills, 
 almost treeless, look like patchwork ; and such, indeed, it is — 
 a very pleasing novelty. I saw the same operation of 
 cutting turf as in Ireland. It is cut in oblong pieces, the 
 size of a large brick, and piled in pyramidal stacks to dry, 
 and makes the best of fuel. The northern, or grape-growing 
 part of France, is not so fertile as the south. I looked in 
 vain for the luxuriant, nicely-plashed hawthorn hedges and 
 spacious parks, with their herds of deer, to be seen all over 
 England. The fields have no fences, except a kind of paling 
 by the roadside ; yet along the railways are many hawthorn 
 hedges newly planted. The French diligence is a clumsy 
 
MONKS— LILLE— ARRAS— AMIENS— PARIS. 1 59 
 
 but comfortable mode of travelling. Of these I saw but few. 
 Good railways now communicate with all parts of France. 
 When a diligence meets a drove of sheep, it is curious to see 
 the dextrous sagacity of the dogs, which are trained to drive 
 them all on one side of the^oad till the vehicle passes ! 
 
 At every town I saw plenty of monks, monks, monks, with 
 jolly round faces, dressed in black surtouts reaching down to 
 the heels, and buttoned up to the chin, with broad-rimmed 
 hats. They always have a book under the arm to awe the 
 credulous vulgar. Whoever has anxieties they have none. 
 These ecclesiastics are getting into great favour with the 
 government of republican France, and republican Italy. 
 I had the company of a monk in the railway, and a very 
 pleasant fellow he was. The reader would have laughed to 
 see me taking my second lesson in French. He knew enough 
 English to learn of me that I was at the beginning of pupil- 
 age ; and though I did not bid fair to become a promising 
 scholar, yet seeing the schoolmaster was abroad, without 
 business, I gladly encouraged his works of charity. Near 
 Lille I counted in two miles over a hundred windmills ; yet 
 in the same space might be seen as many of the ecclesiasti- 
 cal windmills aforesaid. I always managed to get a seat at 
 the window, and had fine sights all the way to Paris. 
 
 In pleasant construction of railway carriages, the French 
 are as much behind the English, as the British are behind 
 the Americans. You enter the French carriage by a side 
 door to a compartm.ent completely closed front and rear ! In 
 England it is similar, except the nonsensical partition. The 
 English and French take the lead in systematic management, 
 a cheap and uniform scale of prices, solid permanence of the 
 roads, and the astonishing magnitude, massive strength, and 
 beauty of their railway stations, especially the English. Yet 
 our long, convenient, republican cars, will always go ahead. 
 At any rate, we can give unrivalled despatch to the greatest 
 number of passengers ! Of this we have too many striking 
 
160 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 examples. The French ought to have credit for one capital 
 improvement, unknown in England — lighting up the cars on 
 passing a tunnel. 
 
 Lille is a dark and uninviting old town, resemhling Dun- 
 kerque. Refreshments at the hotels and stations are high. 
 Here I was to take the railway for Belgium ; hut illness and 
 my experience at Dunkerque damped my courage a little, and 
 I thought hest not to try an incursion into the Dutch country 
 and language. I had even intended a visit to Prussia and 
 the hanks of the Rhine; and though English is spoken at the 
 hest hotels, these plans are set down as foregone resolutions. 
 
 Arras is the next town of note, and a few leagues more 
 brings us to Amiens, where the treaty of peace was signed. 
 The numerous pretty villages of the way recede from the 
 mind as they do from sight, for thoughts of absorbing wonder. 
 
 " That's Paris !" said an English gentleman. It was now 
 ten o'clock; and the sight of the long line of gas lamps reach- 
 ing for miles on both sides of the railway, was glorious to 
 behold ! On passing out of the railway station, an officer 
 shouted, "Passe-porte !" I responded with a Frenchified 
 enunciation, "Dunkerque!" and passed on. It was not his 
 fault that he took me for a Frenchman. '-'Pretty well!" 
 thought I, "for the third lesson in French !" 
 
 I was in Paris ; and walked miles through its wilderness 
 of streets, without finding lodging. Here was trouble again ! 
 What should a stranger do who cannot speak French ? At 
 one place a woman answered my ring from the window in 
 broken English, that sent a chill to the heart, " It is not 
 possebel !" At another place, the porter rudely shoved me 
 from the door. It was now midnight, and I needed rest. I 
 inwardly vowed to do all in my power to prevent any friends 
 from visiting France; and a hundred times over wished my- 
 self back to London. By to-morrow, it will be seen whether 
 I had cause to change my mind entirely. I entered the Hotel 
 d' Angleterre near St. Vincent de Paul ; but could not submit 
 
IN PARIS AT MIDNIGHT. lfi| 
 
 to pay the price of two day's board for a night's lodgi. ig, and 
 went, I knew not where. An officer went a long way with 
 me, but being ignorant of my destination, I refused to go 
 any farther; and with great difficulty wandered back to the 
 Hotel d'Angleterre, where a gentleman took me home and 
 lodged me for two francs, though I was ready to pay five. 
 Travellers with plenty of cash, and perhaps servants, never 
 meet with like difficulties ; and precisely because they come 
 in contact with a different class of objects, have no sympathy 
 for a person in straits of which they know nothing. 
 
 The next day I found Mr. Woodman, at Rue des Italiens, 
 an English gentleman residing in Paris, to whom I had been 
 referred in London. One may travel the world over to find 
 a more noble-hearted man. He was more than a brother to 
 me. A rich flow of delight was a full reward for a night's 
 heaviness. In our walks about Paris, he stepped suddenly in 
 Ruo St. Honore, a long and splendid business street near the 
 Seine and the Tuilleries. '' Here,'" said he, when there was 
 an insurrection, Bonaparte placed his cannon, and swept the 
 street !" Parallel with this is Rue Rivoli, between which 
 and the Quay are the palace and magnificent gardens. " Is 
 that the Tuilleries?" said I, with a burst of surprise. Its 
 great length produces a grand effect. It was entered by tlie 
 mob in 1792, and the guards massacred, and was sacked in 
 1830 : and in that of 1848, the Louvre wa^ttacked. Among 
 the thickening wonders of the way, Mr. W. pointed to the 
 Opera House in Place Richelieu, where the Due de Berri was 
 assassinated in 1820. My kind friend engaged good lodgings 
 for me in Rue de Grammoiit, near the Boulevart de Italiens, 
 the most fashionable part of Paris, for only seven francs a 
 week, and I took my meals at any of the thousands of cafes 
 and restaurants at every turn, where a bowl of delicious 
 coflee, such you get nowhere but in France, with roll, butter, 
 and an egg, may be had for eight or nine sous, a plain dinner 
 for half a franc, and a substantial one such as I often had at 
 14* 
 
162 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the Place de la Bourse, vrhere English is spoken, for one franc. 
 Milk and all kinds of fruit are plentiful and cheap — straw- 
 berries, blackberries, raspberries, melons, apricots, plums and 
 green figs. Cherries, currants, red and white, one and two 
 sous a pound. It seemed as if all the fruits of Europe were 
 there at once. Such was the effect of the genial climate 
 that I took freely of any fruit that came to hand. 
 
 Strangers should report their names at Galignani's English 
 bookstore, 18 Rue Vivienne, who keeps a register of visiters to 
 Paris. Here he will find a clue to all needful information. 
 
 The porter of my lodgings handed me a card from a gentle- 
 man of New- York, with whom I had many agreeable walks. 
 One day he suddenly exclaimed — "Have I not seen you in 
 New- York !" It turned out that he once had an ofiice in the 
 same building with myself. Now, this was strange ! 
 
 A stranger in Paris finds himself obliged to speak French, 
 whether he will or no. This was my category. There is no 
 teacher like dire necessity. In a week I got on quite cleverly ; 
 though it was easier to count in French the number of sous 
 and centimes in a franc, than to tell when I got my right 
 change; for the shrewd women, especially of the lower ranks, 
 often took an advantage. I had heard they were friendly to 
 Americans : I believe it, for they were always glad to see me ! 
 Another thing — I wish to give them credit for being the very 
 dullest people up»i earth at comprehending one's meaning. 
 If I pointed to a bowl of cafe au lait, ten to one a bottle of 
 claret would be brought. They are proverbially polite, even 
 to a fault ; for excessive politeness does not always indicate 
 a high degree of respect, and may be a cloak for insincerity; 
 yet we Americans will not be injured by admiring the French 
 as models of politeness. A fruit- woman will help you to a 
 trifle with a courtly grace that would honour Buckingham 
 Palace — and shaming the laughable airs which some ladies 
 assume for dignity. The French do everything to make you 
 happy in their company, and never make a coarse or rough 
 
STRANGE THINGS IN PARIS. 163 
 
 remark to hurt your feelings, much less, indulge in a vulgar 
 laugh at your bad French. Even mine was not laughed at ! 
 
 It was amusing to see women carry in their arras loave.s 
 of broad five feet long, like so many sticks of wood. Where 
 poverty and wretchedness contrived to hide I could not tell, 
 for though beggars are said to be rife in France, I never saw 
 a wo-begone face, nor any street-fight so common with us. 
 All classes looked cheerful and sprightly throughout the gay 
 and delightful city of Paris, In the cities of England are 
 many beggars, but though allowed to hang out a sign in front, 
 they must not halt to ask alms. In our country, they come 
 in droves with baskets before you get your own breakfast. 
 The two last cases we understand; but in France, the condi- 
 tion of the poor is a perfect enigma, bafliing my skill. 
 
 The light, agile, brilliant, and almost aerial lady, floating 
 along the Boulevards and palace gardens, flutters like a but- 
 terfly for awhile on the surface of life, utterly insensible of 
 her mortality, without one anxious thought beyond to-day. 
 
 On all the public buildings and churches in Paris, are 
 inscribed, " Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite !" A good text, from 
 which many a sorry sermon is preached. The French can 
 boast of the sound of liberty; but alas! what better is their 
 government than a military despotism, where everybody is 
 proscribed who speaks or writes against the tyrant Napo- 
 leon ? The French have not had a worse government since 
 the Xth Charles. An intelligent Frenchman told me at Havre 
 (he would hardly dare say as much in Paris) that there were 
 150,000 spies in Paris, receiving from one to eighteen francs 
 a day, who make daily reports. It could happen, that in a 
 club or small society, they might all be spies upon each other. 
 A fine state of things, even if half as bad as this ! Beautiful 
 corollary on the freedom of speech ! Napoleon, it is known 
 has long wished to be proclaimed emperor for life ; but it 
 remains to be seen whether the French are ready for such an 
 audacious stride. Of the four parties that divide France, 
 
164 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 the republicans and legitimatists, or Bourbons, might throw 
 some few obstacles in the way. When the ass in the lion's 
 skin attempts to be king, then look out for trouble ! A perfect 
 tornado appears to be brewing over the sky. Several stories 
 were told me of concocted broils with the people. Their 
 trees of liberty were cut down by government emissaries, and 
 the people charged with it, to give some pretext for an out- 
 break upon them, the sinister, ultimate object of government 
 being an overturn, and then a consolidation of Napoleon's 
 power. Such are the low tricks he plays ! But the people 
 are not pugnacious yet, and bide their time. But I tread 
 dangerous ground, and leave this topic for wiser heads. 
 
 Monks are in great plenty in Paris, and have fat times. 
 About eight or nine in the morning, a perfect stream of them. 
 may be seen floating along the Boulevards to the Madeleine 
 and other churches, with faces as rosy and plump as if they 
 had been at their proper occupation between plough-handles. 
 
 From a suburban hill near an old chapel, I looked down on 
 Paris, spread out in a wide valley, surrounded by smoky hills. 
 The outer walls encircling the city are seventeen miles. The 
 events of many centuries passed before me in terrible review ! 
 Where are the Louises, the Charleses, and the Robespierres, 
 who drenched Paris in blood in the Reign of Terror ? Where 
 isi Napoleon, that mighty master-spirit ? — he who marched 
 among the pyramids, exclaiming to his soldiers — "From the 
 top of these pyramids, forty centuries look down upon you !" 
 
 I walked round by the Pare de Monceaux to the Arc de 
 Triomphe de I'Etoile, an enormous marble structure ninety 
 feet high and half as wide. Over the arch rises an entablature 
 of indescribable magnificence, on which I gazed with trans- 
 ported wonder. Thence extends the broad Avenue de Neuilly 
 for two miles, with a double row of tall, luxuriant shade trees 
 ion both sides, through which appear the Champs Elysees, 
 (Elysian Fields,) the Place de la Concorde, and the palace 
 and gardens of the Tuilleries beyond. Glorious sight ! It 
 
Place de la concorde— luxor obelisk. 135 
 
 seemed as if 200,000 were promenading this notle avenue at 
 once ! Yet in all that mighty throng, was not one drunken 
 brawler: all were decent and orderly, though gay; while 
 social glee and the merry laugh gave the whole a still more 
 plea.sing aspect. I freely confess I was never more astonished 
 in my life than at this grand and orderly sight. On Sundays 
 an immense concourse is always seen here, in the groves of 
 Champs Elysees, where many thousands of chairs are set; 
 and the gardens of the Tuilleries are always open and free, 
 where you may inhale the fragrance of flowers from all parts 
 of the earth. St. Cloud, once the residence of the Emperor 
 Napoleon, and the palaces and gardens of Verseilles, are, if 
 possible, still more crowded on Sundays, Of course I took 
 another day to visit them. The palace of the Tuilleries is 
 not open on Saturday and Sunday, 
 
 On entering the Place de la Concorde, my feelings were in 
 keeping with the awful tragedies of that once fearful spot. 
 Visions of headless kings and queens, and falling thrones, 
 were here realities, and made me feel that truth is stranger 
 than fiction ! Here, on the very spot where I stand, was the 
 guillotine in the Reign of Terror ! Here, between 1793 and 
 1795, nearly three thousand persons of distinction and v^'orth 
 had their heads struck off by the engines of despotism, Robes- 
 pierre and the guillotine. Here were beheaded the unfortu- 
 nate Marie Antoinette and Louis XVI. Here also perished 
 Charlotte Corday. A moss rose in her lips is said to have 
 kept its place when her head fell into the bloody basket. 
 What a place is this for the study of French history ! 
 
 The obelisk of Luxor is another great lion of curiosity. It 
 was the gift of Mehemet Ali to the French, and was brought 
 from Egypt by Louis Philippe at an expense of 2,000,000 
 francs. It was reared by Sesostris 1550 years before Christ, 
 or 3400 years ago, and stood in front of the great temple of 
 Thebes, the city of the hundred gates. It is a yellowish stone 
 nailed syenite, seventy-three feet high, including the base, 
 
165 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 and is covered with 1600 hieroglyphics. This obelisk was 
 erected in October 1832, in the presence of Louis Philippe 
 and 150,000 spectators. In the centre of this spacious area, 
 (formerly the Place de la Revolution,) are two magnificent 
 fountains, adorned with dolphins, Tritons, Nereids, Genii, of 
 the most curious design. From a hundred tall, superb, fluted 
 bronze columns issue a thousand streams of gas, forming a 
 blaze of noontide glory. At this central point you see the 
 new Chamber of Deputies and the President's Palace across 
 the Seine ; and wheeling directly about, the Madeleine, both 
 in Corinthian order, two miles apart; forming a perspective 
 view each way of wonderful magnificence. The Madeleine 
 is surrounded by fifty-two white marble columns, with a dou- 
 ble row in front, and is a copy of the Parthenon. The interior, 
 with its roof of fretted gold, is too gorgeous to be described. 
 Napoleon intended to dedicate the Madeleine as a Temple of 
 Glory, to "commemorate the achievements of the French 
 arms, and to have on its columns engraved the names of all 
 those who died in fighting their country's battles," and funds 
 were allotted, but his own overthrow finished his ambitious 
 dreams of earthly glory. 
 
 In the Place Venddrae, communicating with the Boulevards 
 and the Tuilleries, stands the triumphal stone pillar in imi- 
 tation of Trajan's pillar, one hundred and thirty-five feet 
 high, covered with two thousand figures in bas-relief, made 
 of twelve hundred brass cannon taken from the Austrians 
 and Russians. At the top stands the figure of Napoleon. 
 
 The Champ de Mars is an immense oblong space between 
 the Seine and the Ecole Militaire. Here are held public 
 fetes, celebrations, and rejoicings, so congenial to the French. 
 
 Many of the bridges that span the Seine are superb, and 
 no two are alike. Of these there are about twenty-five. The 
 principal are Pout des Invalides, Pont de Jena, Pont de la 
 Concorde, Pont Nation el, Pont du Carrousel, Pont des Arts, 
 Pont Neuf, Pont Lodi. Pont N6tre Dame, Pont d'Arcole Pont 
 
PALAIS ROYAL— NAPOLEON-S TOMB. 167 
 
 Louis Philippe, Pont d'Austerlitz, Pont de Bercy. As tho 
 Seine is only fifty to a hundred feet wide, it will not be 
 expected that they should rival the London bridges. 
 
 At the Boulevard Montmartre I stepped into an omnibus, 
 and for six sous (equal to six cents) was carried across the 
 Seine to the Barridre de Fontainebleau, about four miles. I 
 must mention that a very polite conductor stands on the 
 platform at the door, and takes the money: the passenger 
 politely names to him the place where he would stop, and 
 he has no more trouble, having nothing to do with the driver. 
 This is the London mode, and might be adopted in our cities 
 with advantage. As the French authorities are so suspicious 
 of foreigners, I always carried my passport with me ; but was 
 never asked to show it, except on this visit to the far-famed 
 Manufacture des Gobelins. The operation of weaving the 
 tapestry is very curious. The models are beautiful ; but 
 many of them after French taste — nude figures large as life. 
 So skilful is the work that it must often be diflicult to distin- 
 guish it from the sample. These works are on a grand scale. 
 
 My wonder was not less at the Conservatoire des Arts et 
 M6tiers in Rue St. Martin, a most remarkable and extensive 
 museum of curions models in every department of science. 
 
 The Palais Royal is an immense quadrangle, and one of 
 the great wonders of Paris. The grandeur of this extensive 
 pile when brilliantly illuminated with gas, exceeds the most 
 vivid imagination. The palace is occupied hy an incredible 
 number of fancy stores, cafes, and gambling dens. This vast 
 estate was the private property of Louis Philippe. 
 
 From the Military School, (it being the interesting manual 
 exercise of dinner time,) I went to the Hotel des Invalides. 
 Under the dome of its colossal pile, in the chapel of St. Jerome, 
 lies Napoleon. His body was brought from St. Helena in 
 1840, and entombed here with a funeral pomp unparalleled 
 in modern times. Over the sarcophagus lies his sword, and 
 the hat he wore at Eylau. The polite oflicer said in good 
 
168 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 English, that a grand tomb was erecting in the crypt under 
 the dome of the chapel, and would not be open to the public 
 for four or five years. From the arches hung hundreds of flags 
 taken by Napoleon in battles. The entrance to the H6pital is 
 by an esplanade, over which point many large cannon. 
 
 The palace and gardens of the Luxembourg are wonderful 
 attractions. The palace is remarkable for fine proportions, 
 and contains many noble statues and paintings. The death 
 of Queen Elizabeth, Charles IX. receiving the keys of Paris, 
 and Charlemagne on his throne, are striking pictures; and so 
 are a hundred others. Like all the palaces I visited, the floors 
 were of oak, curiously matched in oblong diamond pieces, 
 and waxed so smooth that it was like standing on ice. I was 
 often near slipping up, (or rather down,) and thought the 
 ancient occupants stood in quite as slippery places as I did. 
 The Chamber of Peers, where state trials are conducted, is 
 one of the most splendid halls in the world. The conductor 
 showed me the seats of the different peers, rising gradually 
 toward the circumference, and overlooking the President's 
 chair, over which is a full length portrait of Louis Philippe. 
 I took a seat in Napoleon's chair of state when First Consul. 
 The Chapel of the Chamber of Peers, and another gorgeous 
 palace, the name of which I cannot recall, haunts my ima- 
 gination like some Arabian dream. Over the chapel door is 
 a painting of the adoration of the shepherds by Simon White, 
 an American. 
 
 Long could I linger in these palace gardens. The broad 
 and well-arranged avenues incline toward the palace. Here 
 you can see the taste in olden times. The winding walks 
 overlook many a parterre and green dell with luxuriant trees 
 bending with choice fruit. But the French gardens, though 
 beautiful, have not the natural wildness of the English. 
 
 The shops of Paris are not less brilliant than those or 
 London, and this is saying a great deal ; but the Parisians 
 make as great show with $500 as the Londoners do with thou- 
 
THE BOULEVARDS— JAllD IN DE PLANTES. igQ 
 
 sands of pounds, just the difference between their capital. 
 The arcades running in long rectangular mazes, are so bril- 
 liant that one might suppose the wealth of the Indies was 
 there on deposite, in extent far exceeding the Lowther, and 
 famous Burlington arcade, of London. 
 
 The Boulevards bending through the city from the Made- 
 leine to the Place de la Bastille, are the most splendid street 
 promenades in the world. A friend said to me — " Our Broad- 
 Vv^ay is a mere toy in comparison !" The Boulevard de la 
 Madeleine, des Capucines, des Italiens, Montmartre, Poisson- 
 niere, Nouvelle, St. Denis, St. Martin, duTem.ple, Calvaire, 
 Beaumarchais, form one street of surprising width, with side- 
 walks of full thirty-five feet. A splendid triumphal arch, 
 emblazoned with Napoleon's victories, stands at the head of 
 Rue St. Denis, and another at Rue St. Martin; but they are 
 not so grand as I'Etoile. The Boulevards are the resort of 
 all ranks, and a scene of the utmost gayety, especially at 
 night, when the brilliant gas lights and the pleasing confusion 
 of colours and images produce an effect truly gorgeous. Neat 
 white mansions appear through the gilded green shades, and 
 the light streaming from the splendid cafes and club-houses, 
 illuminates the groups of ladies and gentlemen sitting around 
 white marble tables on the pave ; while the rattle of vehicles 
 and the blending sounds of music and mirth, gives the scene 
 wonderful charms. This is the genteel Frenchman's heaven ! 
 
 It is a long road that never turns; but one without end 
 is still longer ! There is an endless street in Paris — Rue de 
 Viarmes. running round the Corn Exchange, a huge, famous 
 stone building with a hemispherical roof. 
 
 The Jardin des Plantes is one of those enchanted scenes 
 where the lover of Nature seeks to lose himself. Who wants 
 to read a true book ! Here are the illuminated leaves. of the 
 book of Nature, whose glowing lines never tire the peruser — 
 things to prompt the fancy and instruct the understanding ! 
 This fine school of botany was fostered by such distinguished 
 15 
 
ItfQ FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 naturalists as J issieu, Tournefort, and Buffon, Forest trees, 
 shrubs, plants, flowers, and fruit trees, indigenous and exotic, 
 in rich variety, are here arranged by the hand of science. A 
 labyrinthian path leads to a pyramidal ascent, on which is a 
 glorious cedar of Lebanon sweeping down to the ground. 
 
 Nor are the Zoological Gardens less inviting — said to be 
 superior to those of London, where animals have a larger 
 space ; yet here, each has a place better adapted to its habits. 
 Here I saw the cassowary, ostrich, buffalo, dromedary, bison, 
 zebra, antelope, gazelle, giraffe, jackal, hyena; the African 
 goat, lion of Senegal, Barbary, Africa, and Astrachan; the 
 Algerine panther, and Grecian deer. Here are dens for tigers, 
 lakes and mounds for bipeds and quadrupeds. I espied some 
 foxes — counsellors, doubtless for this congress of wild beasts. 
 
 At the Halle aux Vins adjoining, visiters can taste the 
 finest wines in the world. 
 
 The Bourse, or Royal Exchange, is a superb, square edifice, 
 of very chaste architecture, surrounded with Roman Doric 
 columns. Over the entrance is inscribed — Bourse et Tri- 
 bunal DE Commerce. The hall is lit from the roof, covered 
 with monochrome paintings, the effect of which is beautifully 
 illusive. The beholder is convinced with difficulty that these 
 wonderful creations of the pencil are not figures in bas-relief. 
 
 The Hotel de Ville is a majestic pile of palaces near the 
 Seine, used for municipal purposes. I was shown the room 
 where Lafayette embraced Louis Philippe, and where Robes- 
 pierre held his council. Apropos of Robespierre. It is now 
 attempted to be shown, (with what truth the reader can 
 judge,) that he was an innocent actor in the butcheries of 
 his time ! " Necessity, the tyrant's plea," is an excuse for 
 many a fiendish deed. This rule worked cleverly in his case, 
 when Vengeance dragged him to the sanr.'e guillotine ! 
 
 The Place du Carrousel, so named from a grand tourna- 
 ment given by Louis XIV. in 1662, is a wide inclosure paved 
 with round stone, between the Louvre and the Tuilleries, 
 
PALACE OF THE LOUVRE. l7j 
 
 between which is a triumphal arch. Math three gateways, 
 erected by Napoleon, At the top is a car, in which is an 
 allegorical female figure, and one each side, guiding the 
 horses. All the buildings were once used as barracks for a 
 guard of a thousand troops for the royal family. 
 
 Stretching along the Seine, is that prodigious range of 
 palaces, the Louvre. From Pont Neuf, or the Quai, the view 
 is one of the grandest in the world, displaying hundreds of 
 windows at once. This stupendous pile comprehends a dozen 
 museums — antiquities, Greek, Roman, Egyptian, and Assy- 
 rian, statuary, paintings. Here are represented the wealth 
 and refinement of the Old World, Herculaneum and Pompeii, 
 I saw figures in the finest marble by Praxiteles, and other 
 great sculptors of yore. What will the reader think of see- 
 ing the actual portals of Nineveh, recently dug up in its 
 vicinity ! They are two colossal figures some twelve feet 
 high — grotesque monsters they are, with ox legs and hoofs. 
 These giant images of a dead empire take the shine from all 
 the queer creations of Greek and Roman mythological fancy, 
 whether human, beastly, or (so-called) divine. They are a 
 kind of mongrel, 'between centaur and hypogrilF, but without 
 the grace of either. I gazed on their cold eyes, and could 
 fancy a shade of sadness had stolen over their stony visages 
 since these guardian gods stood in the same solemn silence, 
 at the entrance of Nineveh, that "exceeding great city," and 
 that their rocky beards had grown gray from grief at being 
 dragged out of their graves of three thousand years, and in- 
 carcerated in the subterranean abodes of the French Louvre, 
 as objects of idle curiosity and gaping astonishment. These 
 wonders of old are of the same family tribe as the Nimroud 
 sculptures lately added to the British Museum, The very 
 fact of their having been brought from ancient Assyria makes 
 them objects of unspeakable wonder. The number and beauty 
 of the paintings and statues ranged along the mazy saloons 
 and corridors, in the different stories and terraces, defy de- 
 
172 FIRST VISIT. TO EUROPE. 
 
 scription. It is said that 50,000 paintings more have lately 
 come to light, after being neglected for a whole century ! 
 
 It were no great wonder if a stranger without a guide 
 should need one. After trying full half an hour to find my 
 way out, I began to make a serious demonstration. Behold me 
 imprisoned in the Louvre ! I pointed out of the window — 
 and tried all sorts of devices in vain. My opinion of French 
 stupidity was now confirmed. What more natural than that 
 I wished to be shown out ? At last I shouted at the top of 
 my voice the magic word "Liberte !" enunciated with a his- 
 trionic air. Surely, the French understand their own lan- 
 guage ! and its correct utterance will be followed by an "open 
 sessarae !" No such thing ! Whether the smile of the officer 
 was caused by my bad accent, odd manner, or amusing pre- 
 dicament, I cannot say. Finally I was escorted out by a polite 
 English lady, whose common sense understood the word 
 " liberte" just as we do, without waiting for an introduction. 
 
 At all the institutions and almost every turn, are armed 
 officers, dressed like our colonels. The gens d'arm&s are a 
 formidable array. To a stranger, unused to these displays 
 in peace, Paris looks like a city in a state of siege — not far 
 from the real truth. ! what is liberty Without virtuous 
 independence and public confidence ! The French make no 
 progress in government as they do in other sciences ; for the 
 people think of freedom without a diffusion of knowledge;' 
 and their riders, (Heaven sa.ve the mark !) determine they 
 shall have neither. If they could simply reison from cause 
 to its effect, they would just as soon talk of fire without heat, 
 or anything equally unphilosphic. The French toss about in 
 a restless fever : the disease is within ; and neither they, nor 
 the learned quacks, with all their fine-spun logic, can dis- 
 cover what the veriest child in philosophical attainment 
 might know. For, to this old-fashioned conclusion we must 
 come at last, after looking oft and again at all the so-called 
 republics of Europe, Central and South America — France 
 
SUNDAY IN PARIS— NOTRE DAME. 173 
 
 may te the "home of the brave," but without Bible Chris- 
 tianity, can never be the " land of the free." 
 
 Although I knew that the Sabbath was not respected in 
 France, I was utterly astounded at the sight of their festivi- 
 ties ! Sunday — why, it is their great day of business and 
 amusement, more than any other day ! The shops and mar- 
 kets are all open. In the Champ Elysees and other resorts, 
 there were various games, dancing dogs and monkeys, little 
 theatres, Punch and Judy shows, and ten thousand other 
 queer and senseless things; while the fashionables resort to 
 the concert, opera, or gambling-saloon. On the pave of the 
 Boulevards on Sunday, I saw spread out a la tailleur, any 
 quantity of old clothes and new, surrounded by groups of 
 the working-classes, who were inspecting the raiment with 
 an air that seemed to say — Now's the time, ye sans culottes! 
 
 Yet in all these Sabbath desecrations, so revolting to a 
 well-ordered mind, there is none of that contempt, bravado 
 and ruffianism so common with us. Alas ! poor creatures ! 
 they have not the slightest idea of its wickedness. Yet it 
 IS none the less the curse of infidelity. 
 
 I saw regiments march every morning through the gardens 
 of the Tuilleries, Place de la Concorde, and Rue de la Paix; 
 yet for me there was no concord of sweet sounds in their 
 martial music — nothing but the drum. After hearing the 
 "notes omnipotent to charm" from the Queen's band in St. 
 James' Park, the discord of the French drum was like beating 
 a thousand tin pans. Their military dress is just as ugly. 
 
 Some one advised me to attend Notre Dame on Simday 
 at twelve, when I would witness an imposing spectacle, and 
 bear some of the richest music in the world. I went. But 
 the thirty-five hundred pipes of the majestic organ were all 
 silent. A heavy shower of rain came ratting down on the 
 roof of the mighty cathedral, and that was all the music I 
 heard. Small groups of poor women who had come hither 
 
 '• To bid their beads and patter prayer," 
 
 15* 
 
174 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 were scattered here and there, worshipping at the shrines of 
 the numerous saints. In other respects, all was still as a 
 Quaker meeting. How different from what I had pictured ! 
 Having heard the soul-inspiring music of Westminster Abbey, 
 it was natural that I should expect to feel the same holy- 
 enthusiasm. But the gap was filled up with — disappoint- 
 ment. I was told afterward that the saints' days, and not the 
 Lord's day, were their great occasions. In this cathedral are 
 kept Napoleon's coronation robes. 
 
 St. Sulpice, St. Eustache, N6tre Dame de Loretto, and 
 many more to which I made hasty visits, being open all hours 
 of the day, should not be neglected. The superabundant 
 finery, paintings, and what not, are what the French call 
 grandiose ; but even if I had never seen the majestic cathe- 
 drals of Britain, such church ornaments could not captivate 
 my fancy. Whoever goes to Paris without seeing St. Roch, 
 will miss a wonderful novelty. Behind the altar, Mount 
 Calvary and its neighbouring scenery, cut out of -solid rock/ 
 will burst upon the astonished vision ! 
 
 The French have a saying, that if you have seen all the 
 world but Paris, you have seen nothing ! With all the faults 
 of the French, there is a nameless witchery in the tasteful 
 attire of the ladies. At home, we see that dress caricatured ; 
 in Paris, its becoming grace, unaided by dowdyish inflation. 
 The French mode of living is not altogether so capricious as 
 we are apt to think. The Frenchman, it is true, does not 
 squeeze into a dingy dog-house recess yclept a chop-house, 
 and in that dignified seclusion, eat and smoke, and doze over 
 the old newspaper and a pint of black beer. Not he ! — he 
 loves society; and sees no more absurdity in dining with 
 fifty strangers, than in perambulating the streets. Even the 
 first ladies maybe seen sitting at refreshment tables in front 
 of the fashionable cafes along the Boulevards. In New- York 
 such a sight would be shocking. In Paris, it is innocent, and 
 not indelicate. Such is fashion ! 
 
CHAPTER XVI. 
 3Place tie la aSastilk— 3Pcrc la ^Jaise— ITerreilles— J^abt^ 
 
 My way to the celebrated Pere la Chaise was through 
 Rue St. Antoine, leading to the Place de la Bastille, where 
 the majestic Column of July burst on my view ! I took a 
 seat on one of the iron benches, and surveyed the triumphal 
 pillar. My feelings were strange and awful. All the hor- 
 rors I had ever read of it stood in ghostly array. Look down 
 into those gloomy abodes ! A few cheerless moonbeams strug- 
 gle through the massive iron bars, disclosing the tomb of an 
 unhappy nobleman, enduring a long and living death. He is 
 chained to the floor. His visage is gloomy and haggard — he 
 is thinking of his affectionate wife, son and daughter, whom 
 he has not seen for twenty years ! He is a patriot, or it may 
 be, he has dropped an unguarded word, or is only suspected. 
 Be that as it may, he has been here all that time, and will 
 never get out — never ! But I have foolishly attempted the 
 untold horrors of the Bastile, or rather, to tell my emotions, 
 as I brushed away a tear, while standing on the very spot 
 where once clanked the chain of many a groaning victim of 
 despotic vengeance, for half a life-time. The very name of 
 these terrific regions of despair made Frenchmen quake. 
 Thank Heaven, that engine of Satan is destroyed! There 
 stands the glorious Pillar of July ! Let that lofty, black 
 iron monument remain from generation to generation — a 
 solemn text — an instructive tome in the Romance of History ! 
 
 This pillar is one hundred and sixty-three feet high, and 
 thirty-six in diameter — of iron, partly fluted, and partly en- 
 circled with bands, bearing lion heads, whose open mouths 
 admit air and light to the staircase inside. The intermediate 
 
176 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 spaces are covered with five hundred patriots' names, who 
 fell in the three days of 1830, when 
 
 "Tumultuous murder shook the midnight air." 
 
 Over the Corinthian capital — seventeen feet wide, and the 
 largest piece of bronze ever cast — is a railed gallery. On a 
 gilt globe at the utmost top, is a colossal figure of the Genius 
 of Liberty, on tiptoe, with wings outspread, and a torch in 
 the right hand, as on the point of flight. This prodigious 
 column was inaugurated with great pomp in July 1840, when 
 the victims of the revolution of 1830 were entombed in the 
 vaults beneath the pillar, which is surrounded by a massive 
 railing. The lower part was erected by Napoleon. From 
 the top I had a sublime view of the city, and could see the 
 sluggish old moat half a mile long, running from the Bas- 
 tile to the Seine, where it has a narrow inlet. In 1789, the 
 Bastile was attacked and taken by the people, and utterly 
 demolished next year by decree of the National Assembly. 
 The column has two inscriptions, one of which I copied : — 
 "A la Gloire des Citoyens Francais qui s'armerentet com- 
 battirent pour la Defense des Libertes Fubliques dans le 
 memorables Journees des 27, 28, et 29 Juillet 1830." 
 
 A mile from the Bastile isPere la Chaise, the entrance to 
 which is from Ftue la Roquette, where it intersects Barriere 
 des Amandiers at the verge of Paris. The topography of 
 this beautiful city of the dead bears some resemblance to our 
 Greenwood, though smaller by two-thirds, comprising about 
 a hundred undulating acres, whose heights beautifully over- 
 look Paris and the country villages round about. Its broad 
 paved avenues with narrow sidewalks and kerbs, are " after 
 the similitude of a city," the white marble tombs with steep 
 roofs being ranged in a line. These dwellings of the dead (so 
 to speak) are ten to fifteen feet high, and a foot apart. Many 
 standing in isolated spots are splendid. I wandered for hours 
 along the sequestered winding walks, whose solitudes and 
 impressive stillness created a flow of thought which nothing 
 
CEMETERY OF PERE LA CHAISE. 177 
 
 else could. I heard the music of Nature — the breeze rvistling 
 through the long ranges of sombre fir and horse-chesnuts 
 overhanging the sloping avenues; and when these soft mur- 
 murs died away, not a sound was heard but the buzzing of 
 flies sporting athwart the shades. Once I was startled by a 
 voice, asking in English, "Where is her grave?'' Turning, I 
 discerned through the trees two ladies in white. I apologized 
 for intrusion, observing, I was a lonely American novice, 
 and like one "seeking the living among the dead;" for it 
 was irresistibly charming to hear my native language so far 
 away from home ! They politely answered my few inqui- 
 ries, re-assuring me it was no intrusion; and I left them 
 with confirmed respect for the politeness of English ladies. 
 The trees had an Eden-like greemiess ; but on the hilltop, the 
 grass was burnt to a crisp by the hot July sun. Here I rested 
 a moment ; but "was no sooner seated, gazing on the glories 
 below, when up steps, sans ceremonie, a gen d'armes, who 
 slid out of the shrubbery like a pasteboard puppet, and sput- 
 tered something short and sweet, which I easily turned into 
 polite English—" Get off the grass !" " What grass ?" said I, 
 vexed at his rudeness, and pointing to the crispy roots where 
 I sat. Why don't the French teach those savages a little 
 politeness? Such samples made me fairly hate the sight of 
 a French soldier. From this eminence I had a noble picture 
 of the city and country, stretching far away to Vincennes. 
 Among the tombs of the great, I saw those of La Fontaine, 
 Moliere, Volney, Madame de Genlis, Marshal Ney, Casimir 
 Perier, La Place, the astronomer, and the Marchioness of 
 Beauharnais, sister-in-law of the Erripres^ Josephine. The 
 magnificent monument of Abelard and Heloisa is admired 
 universally. Lafayette is not buried here, but in the eastern 
 part of the city. Here I saw monuments in endless variety — 
 pyramids, obelisks, altars, urns, mausoleums, and sepulchral 
 chapels, open in front, with a table, chair, candlestick, and 
 such requisites. The streets outside the cemetery are full of 
 
J78 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 shops for the sale of garlands, blue, white, yellow, or black, 
 emblematic of love, hatred, jealousy, and so on. These rings 
 of six inches diameter are hung inside of the tombs, and on 
 the outside are protected from the weather by a wooden roof. 
 Lest I should be set down as a graceless barbarian I will not 
 call these things senseless conceits : it is a French fashion, 
 and must be all right. Seriously — the custom of strewing 
 flowers (not woollen ones !) over the grave of friends, is quite 
 a different thing, and is very beautiful. 
 
 The Russians bivouacked here in 1814, and cut down many 
 fine trees : the present sylvan race is of thirty years' growth. 
 
 What a mighty host sleeps here ! But on the wondrous 
 morning when all things will be made new, " the earth shall 
 cast out the dead •" and they shall wake to scenes of endless 
 activity ! On descending these romantic slopes I exclaimed, 
 "0 France !" next to my own the loveliest land !" but imme- 
 diately checked myself, for I remembered that I had been 
 in Britain. When I do not think with delight of my visit to 
 P^re la Chaise, so imperfectly sketched, I shall cease to be ! 
 
 Verseilles, twelve miles from Paris, is worth a voyage 
 round the world ! A spot famous in history, for its palaces, 
 unrivalled paintings and gardens — who can describe them? 
 We will glance at them, at any rate. At nine I took the om- 
 nibus from Place du C arrousel, and was carried across the 
 city to the Verseilles railway. Recollecting the dreadful rail- 
 road accident here a few years ago, I choose a seat next to the 
 window. The scenery on the way was like that of England 
 for beauty. In an hour I was at Verseilles. For awhile I could 
 not ascertain my ^whereabouts. From the Place d' Armes, 
 opposite the palace, radiate three immense avenues two miles 
 long, with double rows of large poplars, shaved at the top 
 and sides with wonderful precision, and forming vistas of 
 sublime beauty. Between the spacious gravel-walks are 
 smooth lawns in all the freshness of May. At the far end 
 of the centre Avenue de Paris, is the admirably imposing 
 
PALACE GARDENS OF VEE.SEILLES. ^79 
 
 landscape of Mendon Forest, the hunting-ground of the gay 
 and luxurious court of Louis XIV. My friend in Paris told 
 me that one of these avenues was grand enough for the 
 proudest monarch ; but the excessive vanity of Louis caused 
 the three magnificent ones diverging from the palace, that he 
 might be seen for two miles each way, as he came out in his 
 
 carriage ! Here I found Mr. T , an English gentleman 
 
 of Maidstone, Kent, who spoke French. Nothing could be 
 more agreeable. We wandered together through the exten- 
 sive gardens. My pleasure and astonishment were boundless. 
 Really, kind reader ! you must bear with me in my melting 
 moods. I never was a Stoic. No drilling could make me 
 one. As for these who .never wonder or smile, away with 
 them ! " Look at that rustic cottage, with a straw-thatched 
 overhanging roof!" said my friend. "Make a note of it in 
 your book." Here Louis XIV. with his queen and court often 
 resorted, in the rustic dresses of shepherds and shepherdesses, 
 afFectii% their habits of rustic simplicity ! " Note this too," 
 said he, pointing to an irregular patch of brick, painted on the 
 cottage wall to represent a breach, giving it an air of greater 
 age. It needs no painted patch to give an old look. We took 
 intense glances at the Petit and the Grand Trianon, and the 
 beautiful gardens of choice trees, laid out a I'Anglaise, and 
 roamed through the rooms once occupied by Marie Antoinette 
 and the Emperor Napoleon. Here is a large painting of the 
 Four Seasons, and a bed-room hung with blue silk. In the 
 cabinet de toilette is the time-piece of Louis XV. The 
 exceedingly fine statues of Louis XIV. and his queen, Louis 
 XV., Louis XVI. and Dauphin, are as skilful embodiments 
 as ever came from the sculptor's chisel. A vase of lapis 
 lazuli, a fine greenish stone, some four feet in diameter, was 
 a present from the Emperor Alexander to Napoleon. We 
 had a look at Napoleon's bed, and the gorgeous apartments 
 of the Empress Josephine. As we entered one of the prin- 
 cipal saloons, my friend said with true English pride—" This 
 
180 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 room was fitted up for Victoria's visit to Verseilles !" What 
 can be more dazzling to weak eyes than these gilded saloons ? 
 Yet it is easy to fancy, that with all these glories of royalty, 
 mirrors, ottomans, and canopied thrones, their ancient occu- 
 pants would gladly have been metamorphosed into real, and 
 not sham shepherds and shepherdesses in the poetic little 
 Swiss village which Marie Antoinette built near the lakelet 
 at the edge of the gardens. Some of them at least, might 
 have died with their heads on ! 
 
 The Duchess of Orleans has the use of one of the palaces. 
 
 My friend and I now took a rapid delve through the palace 
 gardens, the most extensive in the world. Sometimes we got 
 lost in endless mazes and thick sylvan hedges, and had to 
 halloo to each other. Days might be spent in exploring these 
 labyrinthian bowers. Fancy has taxed her utmost powers 
 in these wonderful creations. A few hours will afford only 
 a general idea of such a world of beauty — its orange groves, 
 parterres, and numerous jets d'eau, whose silvery spray 
 falling among the countless costly statues, scattered over the 
 scene in graceful variety, as far as the eye can reach, form 
 a picture full of enchanting beauty. Let us take a glance 
 at the fountains. All the Greek and Roman deities and 
 genii here assemble to honour the court of the XlVth Louis. 
 Latona's basin, and parterre, encircled with twenty statues. 
 Near this are the Baths of Apollo, and the Queen's Grove. 
 On each side of the Royal Alley is the Hall of Chesnut 
 Trees, with statues and vases the whole length. In Apollo's 
 Fountain, next to the .largest, the King of Day is seen rising 
 from the sea, in a chariot of four horses, attended by dancing 
 dolphins and Tritons, all spouting water, which falls on 
 Apollo's head. The Obelisk Fountain throws up one hundred 
 streams. Neptune's fountain is the most splendid of all. Old 
 Neptune with his trident, and Amphitrite, are seated in an 
 immense shell, and attended by a host of nymphs, Tritons, 
 and sea-monsters. Oceanus sleeps on a sea-unicorn. On these 
 
FOUNTAINS, PALACE AND PAINTINGS. igj 
 
 descend nearly fifty water-spouts in a perfect del.ige, which 
 is increased by numerous grand jets d'eau, distilling a dewy 
 lustre over the grass, flowers, and plants, for a great distance. 
 In Bacchus' Fountain, he is spouting water, and holds a largo 
 cup to catch it, attended by four satyrs holding up grape- 
 clusters and spouting water. In Flora's Basin, the goddess 
 holds a basket of flowers, and is surrounded by children hold- 
 ing wreaths and spouting water. Ceres is in the centre of a 
 reservoir, encircled by her children, who are spouting water, 
 which falls over her in gentle streams. Besides these, and 
 many more, there are Apollo's Baths, the Fountain of Saturn, 
 the Great Water-Spout, and the Grand Canal to Saint Cyr. 
 In the Ball-Roora Grove the court held its whirligig dances 
 on the grass. The Grove of Apollo is filled with many sta- 
 tues of exquisite work, like all the rest. There is the Grove 
 of Domes ; the Star Grove, with a fine marble statue at every 
 radius ; the Green Round Grove ; and the Colonnade Grove, 
 a grand rotunda of thirty-two marble pillars, with a Corin- 
 thian cornice uniting the whole, and a white marble vase 
 at the top of each column. The King's Grove has a hand- 
 some iron railing : on a pedestal in the centre stands Flora. 
 Then there is a fine walk of tulip trees. But the reader 
 must see these wonders with his own eyes. He will then 
 judge whether Fiction can overdraw, or Truth even paint, 
 the fascinating beauties of the gardens of Verseilles. 
 
 Let us now visit the vast Palace, and see the unrivalled 
 paintings and statuary. Their number is incredible — some 
 of them thirty to forty feet long, and if ranged side by side 
 would make full seven miles ! It took us nearly as many 
 hours to pass rapidly through the slippery saloons, looking at 
 some with a momentary delight, and giving others only a 
 distracted glance. Red velvet ottomans have been placed 
 throughout all the rooms by Louis Philippe, to popularize 
 his administration. This vast palace is in much the same 
 state as when occupied by Louis XIV. The cost of the palaces 
 16 
 
182 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 and gardens has "been estimated at some $200,000,000 ! The 
 accounts were all burned, to prevent the nation from knowing 
 the amount. " Look here !" says my friend : "On this very 
 balcony over the entrance, stood Louis XVL and Marie An- 
 toinette, with her infant son in her arms, when the blood- 
 thirsty people demanded their lives in the Reign of Terror !" 
 Who could forbear to drop a tear of pity for this ill-fated 
 family ? One can get a better idea of French history from 
 such a visit, brief as it was, than from years of book-reading. 
 Every object is a speaking event. Louis Philippe has added 
 many new battle-pieces, twenty feet long and fifteen wide, 
 in richly gilt frames. The magnificent battle of Waterloo 
 the French compelled him to remove : they will not endure 
 anything that reminds them of Napoleon's downfall. Here 
 is a large painting of the surrender of Yorktown, in which 
 Lafayette receives the sword from Lord Cornwallis, instead 
 of his aide. Three corridors run the whole length of the 
 palace. In each of the three stories are two rows of marble 
 statues — kings, queens, and persons of distinction. The bed- 
 chamber of state with its costly, tapestry and adornings, is 
 just as when occupied by Louis XIV. The entire palace has 
 an air of being inhabited, from the gay appearance of the 
 rooms. Of the few paintings that I remember among such a 
 vast display, those impressed on my memory are the Coro- 
 nation of Napoleon ] for which remarkable work, the artist 
 received 100,000 francs! and several new ones, such as the 
 French Army in Algiers, and Abd-el-Kadir, of enormous 
 length. The camp fires blazing round the barren hills, the 
 squads of soldiers, and the thin, blue cannon-smoke, are life- 
 like — there is nothing to remind you of paint. Here are 
 all Napoleon's campaigns m Russia and elsewhere; and in 
 each may be seen a capital likeness of the Emperor. The 
 Battle of the Pyramids, Attack on St. Jean d'Ulloa, in 1805, 
 Battle of Friedland, 1807, are not to be understood as better 
 than thousands that cannot be named here, '^ There's one 
 
FRENCH PASSPORT SYSTEM. 183 
 
 of your great men !" said my English friend, pointing to a 
 painting of Henry Clay. I then pointed him to Washington, 
 Franklin, Webster. Victoria appeared in the same gallery. 
 My friend was surprised at my remark that the Queen sat 
 for a fine full length portrait now in New-York, which was 
 painted by Mr Catlin; as if an American painter would not 
 be allowed such a privilege ! This feeling of strong respect 
 approaching to love, so universal among the English, I could 
 not help admiring. Would that I could pay this compliment 
 to the present would-be French sovereign ! I told my friend 
 I had seen all the flags taken in battle by Bonaparte, hang- 
 ing in the arches of St. Jerome. "But you did'nt see any 
 English flags there !" he answered with triumph. After this 
 my very pleasant companion w^as spirited away in the crowd, 
 but I met him again at a hotel, when he invited me to dine 
 with him. The carriages of Charles X. and the Due de Berri, 
 are dazzling objects of curiosity, and look like solid gold. 
 
 The Palace of Verseilles is quite too large for any modern 
 sovereign. Nothing but the vast expense prevented Napoleon 
 from fixing his court here. If the Emperor Alexander, who 
 was accustomed to splendour, expressed astonishment on his 
 visit to Verseilles in 1814, T want words to express mine. 
 
 Afier this memorable day at Verseilles, I returned to Paris 
 by another railway at the left hand, passing St. Cloud, the 
 favourite seat of Napoleon and Louise. Its luxuriant bowers, 
 fountains, and white palaces on the romantic slopes, are in 
 lively contrast. Its gardens vie with those of Windsor. 
 
 The greater part of Saturday, 28th July, was wasted in 
 getting my passport signed. It required more ceremony to 
 get out of France that it did to got in. the abominable 
 passport system ! It is too ridiculous ! This petty tyranny 
 has existed long enough. The English and Americans are 
 quite disgusted at these farces, worthy of the Chinese. Why 
 does not our government require the French to put Americans 
 on the same free footing as we do them? But this game has 
 
^84 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 been a profitalDle one. An American in Paris (Mr. D ) 
 
 told me that during Guizot's administration the French had 
 rohbed foreigners of more than 80,000 francs. " The French 
 are worse than the Turks !" said he, striking his fist indig- 
 nantly on the table : " you could go through Turkey with less 
 vexatious ceremony ! The porter of your lodgings is undei 
 a heavy penalty for neglecting to register your name, and 
 you are watched, and your track is dogged. On leaving 
 France, you must dance attendance on the Prefect of Police, 
 If a novice, you must pay ten francs!" But they did not 
 succeed with me, for I had an inkling of their tricks. My 
 passport was signed without charge by Mr. Sandford, at the 
 office of the American Legation, No. 11 Rue Verte; who 
 told me I need not go the French Minister at all, but to the 
 Prefect of Police near the Seine. The traveller should note 
 this. Here I was very politely invited to take a seat till my 
 name was called. My passport underwent four different 
 official scrutinies. "What is your business, Sir?" " I have 
 none, Sir : I came to France for health, and to see your fine 
 country ; but it is harder to get out of France than it was to 
 get in," said I, intending a good-natured hit. It rained very 
 hard at the time; and either he thought I spoke of detention 
 by the rain, when he pleasantly replied, " You may remain 
 here at will. Sir," or he meant it as a joke. A fourth officer 
 performed the stamp act, and then said, " You must now go 
 to the Minister." "We Americans don't pay!" I replied. 
 Thus hundreds are sent to the Minister, who fleeces them 
 of ten francs ! What is this but robbery ? My friends said 
 my last speech was imprudent : the Prefect might telegraph 
 to stop me at Ha^TC : and this made me uneasy for awhile. 
 
 At the railvv^ay office, a young lady, or rather an houri, 
 observing that I had some difficulty in making myself under- 
 stood, stepped up, and taking the silver out of my hand, paid 
 for a ticket, and counted the change into my hand with an 
 exquisite grace and naivete that I never saw excelled. It 
 
STRANGE INCIDENTS. 185 
 
 was the work of a moment. The novelty of this little act 
 of kindness caused me to regard her with wonder and admi- 
 ration : I felt sure she had received a finished education. 
 During our conversation while waiting for the train, I found 
 this French lady a perfect mistress of English. To my 
 remark that I came from America in quest of health, sli^ 
 replied, . with great simplicity, "I wonder why you didn't 
 bring your doctor with you. Sir !" She doubtless thought 
 American travellers were made of cash ! 
 , At many of the railway offices ladies deal out the tickets, 
 on which are printed the names of all the towns and their 
 distances. My ticket from Paris to Havre was fifteen francs 
 and six centimes, less than $3 ; time, seven hours. A centime 
 is a copper coin the size of a dime — one-tenth of a sous. 
 
 It is painful to think of leaving France, just as one is 
 getting a little familiar with every-day French phrases. 
 It would be a piece of vanity to talk of learning French in a 
 couple of weeks ; yet necessity and patience will achieve 
 wonders, especially when the heart is in any work. It struck 
 me (the scholar will correct me) that this language, though 
 beautiful, is more exact than ours, the words conveying but 
 one idea ; for when I gave a phrase the true accent, I was 
 not readily understood. It occurred that motions and atti- 
 tudes are no small items. Taking this hint, I was surprised 
 at the difierence. I could go through the shrugs and jerks of 
 the head, and throw out the hands, and was mightily pleased 
 with the discovery. It was the " pursuit of knowledge under 
 difficulties !" The good-natured reader may smile; and the 
 starched and stilted critic will cry out, "O nonsense !" We 
 shall see. " Comment s'appel cette ville, s'il vous plait, Ma- 
 dame?" said I to a lady opposite. I knew from her genteel 
 address she would not smile if I made any mistake. She 
 replied with great sweetness of manner, "Dissel, Monsieur," 
 '' Je suis Americain," I added, as an apology. This lady an- 
 nounced all the towns, and gave me much pleasing informa- 
 16* 
 
186 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 tion. Certainly I never passed a happier day on a railway , 
 which was heightened by the idea of going to England by the 
 Isle of Wight ! Near Mantes we passed a tunnel seemingly 
 four miles long ; yet without the dreariness of English tun- 
 nels, for it was lighted up. On entering, all conversation 
 immediately ceases. Every one seems conscious of the dreary 
 transition, the horror of which is increased by a dismal, op' 
 pressive, deafening roar — no faint emblem of "the valley of 
 the shadow of death." At Dissel, we crossed the Seine (as 
 crooked as a snal^e) twice in a minute. On a steep, romantic 
 eminence, at the base of which the railway passes, stands 
 the new cathedral of Rouen, *with its splendid fretted spire 
 piercing the very sky, in architectural beauty well worthy 
 of the universal admiration it draws from travellers. At 
 Pavilly, a pretty town, we stopped awhile, and then flew 
 arrow-like through Motteville and St. Romaine, arriving in 
 Havre at three. " Adieu, Monsieur !" said the French lady ; 
 and vanished. I owe her a debt of respect. 
 
 While passing along the Quay, valise in hand, a gentle- 
 man standing at the door of his counting- hous'e called out 
 
 before I came within three rods of him — " Halloo, Mr. D ! 
 
 where did you come from?" "Pray, where have you seen 
 me, Sir?" said I to the stranger. "0 ! I've seen you often 
 
 on the W ferry-boat." Well, I suppose marvels will 
 
 never end ! Who would not feel astonished ? This gentle- 
 man was Captain Howe, late of Williamsburgh, to whom I 
 had an introduction from Dr. Cooke, which was left in Lon- 
 don, not thinking of returning to England byway of Havre. 
 " What can I do for you ?" ! what a p(5wer there was in 
 those six short words, to a stranger in France ! It is sym- 
 pathy the heart craves. This I had. I was too much over- 
 come to speak for some time. . told him I had travelled eight 
 thousand miles, had seen all sorts of fortune, ascended many 
 a hill Difficulty, and as the delectable hills of the Isle of Wight 
 would soon appear, I needed nothing — absolutely nothing ! 
 
ADIEU TO FRANCE. 187 
 
 Havre is not so large as T expected : the city lies chiefly 
 in k valley at the mouth of the Seine. A romantic neigh- 
 bouring hill affords a grand prospect of the sea; but the view 
 of the city below is cut off. except by the gate-bars of the high 
 wall which runs all along the hill covered with plantations. 
 
 On coming out of the steamship for Southampton, I was 
 siezed by two gens d'armes. What could this rough handling 
 mean ? Ah ! those ten francs you refused to pay the Minister 
 in Paris ! thought I. However, my courage rose with the 
 emergency ; yet I was provoked not a little, for I had done 
 nothing. Observing them look at the pockets of my London 
 cockney coat, I saw it was the necks of two bottles that 
 interested them. No doubt they took me for an English smug- 
 gler. " What do you want?" said I, angrily, as I held up by 
 the neck a bottle in each hand, with a warlike air. I felt 
 like breaking a bottle over each of their heads at such hound- 
 ish suspicion ; but recollecting that republican France is not 
 republican America, and wishing to select my own lodgings, 
 I mastered my feelings as much as possible ; for is not discre- 
 tion valour ? Besides, a shower-bath of cafe au lait and claret 
 would hardly compensate me for the pleasure of seeing it fall 
 gracefully over their ears like the fountain of Bacchus at Ver- 
 seilles, for these bottles were all I had, and brought all the 
 way from* Paris, for a time of need. Looking in their faces 
 with a feeling of honest indignation, I burst into a laugh at 
 the odd idea of being seized as an English smuggler, under 
 such a foolish suspicion. '' Won't you take some?" said I, 
 with mock politeness. Both of them looked as if they had 
 been befooled ; and one said with a mortified look, " He is 
 
 an American — let him go !" Captain H-^ advised me to 
 
 go to the Prefecture of Police, where my passport would be 
 signed gratis; and thus ended all fear of arrest for those ten 
 francs which they tried to get, and could not ! 
 
 At ten that night, I was off in the Royal Mail steamship 
 for Southampton. Just before sailing, these gens d'armes 
 
188 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 went round to all the berths, examining the passports ; and 
 though the full moon shone down the cahin stairway near 
 which I lay, they said nothing to me. The fare from Havre 
 to Southampton or Portsmouth was fifteen English shillings, 
 or $3.50. It is about a hundred and fifty miles across the 
 channel at this point, and takes some ten hours. 
 
 Our ship was rocked about like a tub in a whirlpool ] but 
 the strong ironsided Warrior battled handsomely with the 
 staggering waves, v/hich were decidedly uproarious and un- 
 civil, especially near the coast of old Gaul, where they are 
 like the people whose shores they lash, always in wild, rest- 
 less commotion. Mine was indeed 
 
 " A painful passage o'er a restless flood." 
 
 During one brief night I suffered the condensed horrors of a 
 whole Atlantic voyage. The rocking of the ship made the 
 moon seem to sweep to and fro over half the sky. The stew- 
 ard, a pert, waspish young snipper-snapper, told me to be 
 quiet. He might as well have spoken to iEtna. " You are 
 well paid for being kept awake !" I retorted. He got up in a 
 fit of wrath, and went on deck for something. By and by he 
 came down in a terrible hurry-scurry to escape a big wave 
 that came swashing furiously over the ship, flooding the cabin. 
 He yelled prodigiously, as he shook off the water, " My hat's 
 overboard !" Sea-sickness made me careless, and I said in 
 his own words, " Why don't you keep quiet ?" 
 
 But the voyager can afford to encounter the chopping 
 cross sea always prevailing between Boulogne and Havre, for 
 such exalted pleasure as mine. At sunrise I was off Ryde, 
 six miles opposite Portsmouth. The sea was now but gently 
 ruflled by the natural motion of the tide. The transporting 
 view on that glorious summer morning is painted on memory 
 like the gorgeous bow of promise after a storm. On the left 
 is Ryde, rising out of the sea in bold, arching outline, with 
 luxurious gardens, white palaces, and bristling spires, all lit 
 up at once by the big orb rising out of the deep sea ! 
 
CHAPTER XVri. 
 Ksle of J^im- 
 
 "A precious stone set in the silver sea." 
 
 AFTER a slight examination of my luggage at Portsmouth, 
 I crossed over to Ryde, six miles, by the opposition steam 
 ferry, landing at the splendid pier that runs one -third of a 
 mile into the sea. This magnificent town was thronged 
 with wealth and fashion, attracted by the luxury of sea- 
 bathing, and the strand was covered with baths on wheels. 
 I pushed on without loss of time, by the most independent 
 mode of travelling, a-foot, to explore the island, taking the 
 left hand road to Brading. The clear summer sky, and the 
 buoyant sea-breeze that fanned hill and valley of this "gar- 
 den of England," were enough to create a fine flow of spirits, 
 I may say ecstasy; for never, never, in my whole life, had I 
 looked upon scenery so perfectly charming. The accounts 
 I had read and heard in " thoughts that breathe and words 
 that burn," were by no means overwrought, and never can be, 
 till man " can paint like Nature." Alas for poor me ! Mine 
 will be little more than a faint outline in cold daguerreotype. 
 Would that the reader could see it in all its living spirit and 
 glowing freshness ! One thing I know : those who have tra- 
 versed the Isle of Wight will not charge me with exaggerated 
 fancy flights, whatever others may think. 
 
 Crossing the bridge over a brook that slid along the valley 
 opening out on the clear blue sea, the fine McAdam road led 
 along many a romantic slope fringed with hedges, the goodly 
 landscape beautifully variegated by hill and dale, clumps of 
 trees, and smooth-mown meadows. Here you will see some 
 of the handsomest farms in the world, dotted over with cot- 
 tages in the old English style, with broad, shelving, thatched 
 
190 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 roofs, and adorned with shrublDery, flowers, and large shade 
 trees. No pig-pens, or any of their villancus tenantry, are 
 allowed to mar those almost unearthly pictures of rural 
 felicity. After passing St. Helens, a little village of cottages 
 sprinkled round a green spot near the sea, we come to a 
 romantic up-hill curve of the road, where rises amid sylvan 
 shades, the spire of the new stone Gothic church of St. John, 
 a tasteful edifice indeed; but that old gray Norman church 
 on the hill has nobler charms. Push on ! The road winds 
 along within a mile or two of the seacoast. Every now 
 and then the traveller catches a sublime view of the wide, 
 blue sea. I found myself on a commanding eminence, where 
 a wide, majestic panorama of water and land opened around 
 the horizon for an immense distance. It seemed as if creative 
 skill had been taxed to produce a picture of such surpassing 
 beauty, when the Almighty bade the dry land appear. This 
 elevated plain was divided into fields of grain, meadows, and 
 pastures, where cows were grazing and peacefully reposing. 
 Hard by was an old-fashioned rural cottage with depending 
 roof, straw-thatched — the only house to be seen. Across the 
 lane on the velvet grass, lay the roller and harrow, resting 
 from their labours, on which I also rested from mine, under 
 the cool shade of big oaks and elms. 
 
 " How airy and how light the graceful arch, 
 Yet awful as the consecrated roof 
 Re-echoing pious anthems ! While beneath 
 The checker'd earth seems restless as a flood 
 Brush'd by the wind. So sportive is the light 
 Shot through ihe boughs, it dances as they dance : 
 Shadow and sunshine intermingling quick, 
 And darkening and enlightening, as the leaves 
 Play wanton, every moment, every spot." 
 
 Quiet loneliness gave the picture greater poetic beauty. 
 Not the slightest sound was heard but the buzz of flies darting 
 to and fro, and the chirping twitter of a little bird flitting from 
 bough to bough. Across the I arbour from Gosport and Ports- 
 mouth on the left, the eye takes a circular sweep of the 
 
WAYSIDE PICTURES. jgi 
 
 lioiizon from the smoky hills of Sussex and the "towering 
 spire of the Chichester cathedral" melting into the summer 
 sky; and far away westward is the boundless Atlantic: 
 
 " On her blue bosom glides the swelling sail 
 From distant realms borne by the favouring gale." 
 
 Yonder is a farmer driving a stake to secure the fence. Ah ! 
 he is not like me ! I feel more inclined to "pull up stakes," 
 and come and live in the Isle of Wight ! But this is a 
 wayside dream. The Bay of Naples I never saw. The 
 harbours of Leith and Newhaven, viewed from Salisbury 
 Crags, are wonderful pictures; but what can surpass the 
 land and sea view from tl>e romantic heights of Brading ? 
 
 Mistaking a private road for the Queen's highway caused 
 me to get lost : thus I was thrown into scenes that few travel- 
 lers turn aside to look at; but I cut "across lots," in rural 
 phrase, and reached the road to Brading, part of which is 
 fringed with greenwood, cool, sequestered, and still, while the 
 dancing sunbeams " made a kind of checkered day and night." 
 On emerging, if you want an umbrella, make one. How? 
 Cut a smooth sapling, and lift your coat upon it ! The stick 
 will always be a pleasing remembrancer. If you are averse 
 to foot travels, you will lose many a fine sight. Anybody 
 can ride — if he has plenty of cash ! But who wants to imi- 
 tate the lazy, effeminate aristocracy? This I say, then — 
 don't ride — especially, if you can't ! Dashy-looking carriages 
 will roll swiftly by now and then ; and mighty tempting they 
 will look. Consider them — sour grapes ! 
 
 My homemade umbrella was a tolerable defence against 
 the mid-day sun ; and I jogged on, happy as a lord ; yes, fifty 
 times happier than the Duke of Montrose. No toll to pay ! 
 A few of Nature's nobility live here. ! I was too happy ! As 
 for sorrows, I left them all somewhere else — perhaps in the 
 English Channel. If ever I was free and independent, it 
 was while travelling Victoria's realms a-foot; for I could 
 stop and ruralize, which the landau gentry could not do. 
 
192 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Just before reaching Brading, I called at a roadside farm- 
 house, to rest and reckon longitude. The family were at 
 dinner. When they knew I was from America, they invited 
 me to take a seat at the table ; and no great persuasion was 
 needed. If even a cup of water to the wayfarer will have a 
 reward, many, many blessings shall be on the heads of the 
 Christian brethren of Britain, for much higher hospitalities. 
 I delight to tell them; for unimportant as they may appear, 
 
 " These little things are great to little man." 
 
 At one o'clock I reached Brading, the scene of Rev. Legh 
 Richmond's labours, and of his Young Cottager, so famous 
 in the annals of religious literature, often described by able 
 pens. The antique church stands by the roadside, in the 
 churchyard, which is entered by a stile. Passing up the 
 diagonal footpath through the green mounds, a plain whitish 
 gravestone at the corner of the church fixed my eye. Can 
 it be I am standing at the grave of the Young Cottager? 
 Even so. Sitting down on a green grave opposite I wept in 
 silence like a child. How affecting the simple eloquence of 
 that humble grave ! I could not realize that I was reading 
 her beautiful epitaph from the stone itself: 
 
 Sacred to the Memory of 
 "LITTLE JANE," 
 Who died 30th January, 1799, . - 
 
 In the 15th year of her age. 
 
 Ye -who the power of God delight to trace. 
 And mark .with joy each monument of grace, 
 Tread lightly o'er this grave, as ye explore 
 'The short and simple annals of the poor.' 
 A child reposes underneath this sod, 
 A child to memory dear, and dear to God. 
 Rejoice, yet shed the sympathetic tear — 
 Jane, the 'Young Cottager,' lies buried here. 
 
 Several little girls, who act as guides on such occasions, 
 drew near, seeming to feel as much interest as I did, offer- 
 ing to show me the remarkable graves. One of them pointed 
 to Mrs. Berry's gravestone, saying, with artless simplicity — 
 
tO''SING-BflKRlL 
 
 ;RADING CHURCH 
 
BRADING CHURCHYARD. I93 
 
 "There's the verses Little Jane read, when she came out 
 into the churchyard, and liked them so well that she learned 
 them." These fine verses have heen set to music in England. 
 
 Forgive, blest shade ! the tributary tear 
 
 That mourns thy exit from a world like this ; 
 
 Forgive the wish that would have kept thee here, 
 And stay'd thy progress to the seats of bliss. 
 
 No more confined to grovelling scenes of night ; 
 
 No more a tenant, pent in mortal clay, 
 Now should we rather hail thy glorious flight, 
 
 And trace thy journey to the realms of day ! 
 
 The sexton showed me the interior of the church, which 
 he said was begun in 704 — 1148 years old ! In the chancel 
 is a stone effigy stretched over the tomb of a great personage 
 who had been in the Holy War, if I understood the sexton. 
 These effigies, in full armour, after the mode of feudal days, 
 are strange looking enough. The Oglanders are buried here. 
 The church is remarkable for what the Rev. Dr. Milnor 
 (who visited it in 1830) calls '' a helter-skelter arrangement 
 of pews." He might have said disarrangement. They are 
 high enough to bury their sitting occupants, and without one 
 particle of paint, much less sumptuous purple cushions. Not 
 a few of the ancient worshippers have made a good exchange 
 from earthly pew^s to heavenly mansions. The neat organ 
 was reared by the exertions of Mr. Richmond, "who was 
 very fond of music," said the sexton. On asking him if the 
 present incumbent was liked as well as Mr. Richmond, whom 
 he had often heard, he only shook his head. The pulpit 
 stands in the nave. " Can I go into it ?" " Certainly you 
 can," said he. Seeing is believing, but touching is knowing. 
 I always had a feeling of satisfaction in standing on any 
 remarkable spot, tangible sense being strongest. From this 
 old pine pulpit once sounded out the voice of one of the most 
 eloquent, faithful, and successful heralds of the cross in 
 modern times. Though dead, he still speaketh, by the power 
 of his exalted piety, and the wide-spread Annals of the 
 17 
 
294 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Poor. Their healing leaves have been wafted forth in more 
 than twenty languages of the earth to millions of mankind; 
 hut the number of "the sacramental host" guided to realms 
 of upper day by this "light sown for the r'^hteous/' will not 
 be known till the harvest of light on that day " when the Lord 
 writeth up the people." The Emperor Alexander was so 
 pleased with the Annals of the Poor presented to him by Mr. 
 Richmond, that he sent him a superb ring as a testim.onial. 
 On carefully comparing the surrounding scenery with Mr. 
 Richmond's description, I found it beautifully true to nature ; 
 and the reader will be glad to look at a landscape painting 
 by a master-hand. " Eastward of us extended a large river 
 or lake of sea-water, (Brading Haven,) chiefly formed by the 
 tide, and nearly inclosed by land. Beyond this was a fine 
 bay and road for ships, filled with vessels of every size, from 
 the small sloop or cutter to the first-rate man-of-war. On 
 the right hand of the haven rose a hill of peculiarly beauti- 
 ful form and considerable height. Its verdure was very rich, 
 and many hundreds of sheep grazed upon its sides and sum- 
 mit. From the opposite shore of the same water, a large 
 sloping extent of bank was diversified with fields, woods, 
 hedges, and cottages. At its extremity stand, close to the 
 edge of the sea itself, the remains of the tower of an ancient 
 church, still preserved as a sea-mark. Far beyond the bay 
 a very distant shore was observable, and land beyond it ; 
 trees, towns, and other buildings appeared, more especially 
 when gilded by the reflected rays of the sun. To the south- 
 wxstward of the garden was another down, covered also with 
 flocks of sheep, and a portion of it fringed with trees. At 
 the foot of this hill lay the village, a part of which gradu- 
 ally ascended to the rising ground on which the church stood. 
 From the intermixture of houses with gardens, orchards, and 
 trees, it presented a very pleasing aspect. Several fields 
 adjoined the garden on the east and n^rth, where a number 
 of cattle were pasturing. My own ."ittle shrubberies and 
 
ROMANTIC SCENERY. 195 
 
 flower-beds variegated the view, and recompensed my toil in 
 rearing them, as well by their beauty as their fragrance." 
 
 Here he sent the parish children out into the churchyard 
 to learn epitaphs, which they eagerly learned from the nu- 
 merous gravestones, and recited to him. Every tombstone 
 was to him an edifying leaf in this book of instruction. 
 
 After resting awhile at a house near the churchyard, I left 
 this spot of sacred interest, and journeyed a couple of miles 
 down the vale to Sandown Bay and fort; but the heat and 
 fatigue caused me to return to Brading. In an hour I found 
 a carrier's van going from thence to Ventnor, about ten miles. 
 The driver was an obliging man, but it was not his fault 
 that he was not as intelligent. We had some free desultory 
 talk about England, France, and the United States, during 
 brief intervals of our ride over the steep romantic hills and 
 thrifty vales, "But if, for instance," said he, "there should 
 be war between England and France, would the States inter- 
 fere?" " Surely not : what have we to do with neighbours' 
 quarrels?" "Do you say so?" said he, with some surprise. 
 " Well, that's what they all say.'^ After a pause, he added, 
 "Paris, I believe is in New- York ?" I never had a heart to 
 laugh at another's misfortune, especially when not self- 
 entailed ; but I was so taken by surprise, that my gravity was 
 fairly upset by such a droll, stolid speech. I felt his mortifi- 
 cation on seeing a lady passenger smile; and I had to bite 
 my lips to suppress and piinish a rising laugh. 
 
 The irregular circumference of the island is perhaps sixty 
 miles, and was once covered with woods. It is rather undu- 
 lating than hilly, though a range of hills, or " downs," as they 
 are called, runs from east to west, a few of them of consider- 
 able height. Few woods are seen; but now and then we 
 catch a view of a fine park, such as that of Appuldurcombe. 
 The fields are inclosed with hedge-rows, along which is here 
 and there a stately elm, A succession- of the most pleasing 
 and varied scenery delights, and often surprises the bewil- 
 
J 96 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 dered and astonished traveller. 
 
 the body never so weary. The excited mind wonders if all 
 
 he sees before him are realities. 
 
 The south coast abounds in wild, rocky projections, deep 
 ravines, and fearful chasms, sublime, picturesque, unique ; 
 with the grandest ocean views. Near Sandown Bay is the 
 high down where Mr. Richmond found the African servant 
 reading his bible, sitting in a recess of the perpendicular cliff 
 jutting into the sea. Shanklin chine and village are the 
 admiration of all travellers. Our van driver did not wish to 
 stop, saying, " It's not worth seeing !" " Not worth seeing ?" 
 Really, Mr. Driver, you surely don't mean exactly what you 
 say. If r should go home and tell my friends I did not see 
 Shanklin chine, they would laugh at me !" " They shan't 
 laugh at you on my account. I'll stop a bit for you." Along 
 the slope are a few neat cottages. A path leads down through 
 the chine, and back to the village. No one can view this 
 scene without solemn wonder. A wild majestic rock fronts 
 on the sea, with winding paths through the rugged chasm, 
 and trees and a few cottages on the rugged sides and top of 
 the romantic rock. The road winds along the steep ascent 
 overlooking the promontory of Dunnose, and at the foot of 
 Wroxall and the Shanklin Downs, over the heights of Luc- 
 comb, where there is another chine inferior to Shanklin. 
 St. Boniface Down, over which we rode, is a very remarkable 
 hill. From these downs (ups I should call them) may be seen 
 the main land of Sussex, England. The driver was my chief 
 source of information, and though he knew every point of 
 the island, if he could not tell in which hemisphere Paris lies, 
 yet I did not choose to rely on him so much after his ridicu- 
 lous speech about Shanklin Chine. Sometimes the road bent 
 along romantic hills, displaying from the top an immense 
 panorama of mountain, valley, and ocean. The van being 
 heavily laden, to relieve the horses I ascended the long, steep 
 hill of St. Boniface. This majestic elevation seemed like 
 
BONCHURCn— VENTNOR— UNDERCLIFF. 197 
 
 the jumping-ofF place, for nothing was seen all around but 
 sky and ocean; when the road would suddenly twist about 
 and descend the other side of the hill in a most anomalous, 
 freakish, round-about fashion, leaving me to wonder where 
 1 was going. At the side of this hill is Appuldurcombe 
 Park and House, described by travellers in rapturous lan- 
 guage. Here died Elizabeth Wallbridge's sister. 
 
 At Bonchurch village we stopped an hour. This is alto- 
 gether the most astonishing spot I ever saw, combining the 
 grand, romantic, diversified, and beautiful. That scene glows 
 in a confusion of lovely images on my mind in all their light 
 and shade, rocky steep, and green dell. Here are winding 
 walks, through wild acclivities and ravines, groves, hills, 
 and shelving rocks. Nothing can be much more crooked than 
 the road leading to this picturesque scene by the sea-side. 
 The very idea of descending this abrupt precipice causes 
 the traveller to start back with dread, on beholding such a 
 perfect chaos of rocky masses hanging midway from the 
 summit. On tiirning the hill, a blaze of wonders bursts on 
 the sight. The winding descent is attended by a tinkling 
 brook, that spreads out at the bottom of the steep, forming 
 a pellucid lake bordered by overhanging trees casting their 
 luxuriant shadows upon this mirror. From this point the 
 broad ocean is displayed before the enraptured view, and 
 a landscape of green-tinted gold, glowing in the sunset. 
 
 At the side of the wild churchyard near the sea, is a little 
 Norman church, a long stone edifice with a low roof. Look- 
 ing in at a window at twilight hour afforded a very dim 
 view. The walls are covered with moss and running ivy. 
 We call a building of a hundred years antique. Here is a 
 church eleven centuries old ! I once thought Fairy Land 
 existed only in imagination. Ah! I've found it! In the 
 churchyard, costly stone effigies are stretched over many of 
 the graves, giving an unearthly look to this sequestered dell. 
 This is doubless the very finest of the island scenery. 
 17* 
 
198 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 The van proceeding no farther than Ventnor, a beautiful 
 thriving village on the slopes near the sea, I concluded to 
 walk five miles that evening to Undercliff". What could be 
 more romantic than traversing the sea-shore at night, alone, 
 and three thousand miles from, home ! There was an awful 
 solemnity in the sombre woods overhanging the path ; a dreary 
 lonesomeness in the dash and dying murmurs of the ocean. 
 Byron's lines never seemed half so beautiful : 
 
 There is a pleasure in the pathless woods ; 
 There is a music on the ocean shore ; 
 There is society where none intrudes. 
 
 The stars looked down on the gently-heaving ocean, and flung 
 their encouraging rays through the trembling foliage, while 
 a delicious aroma pervaded the air. The whole UndercliiF 
 for several miles is a series of terraces formed of rock, sand- 
 
 ing pictures of terrible majesty. This effect has been created 
 by land-slides at different periods. An excellent road runs 
 all along the cliffs in front of the sea. These rocky cliffs 
 sometimes resemble the palisades on the Hudson, except that 
 instead of perpendicular formations, they are in irregular, 
 horizontal layers five to ten feet wide, in wavy stripes. 
 
 While passing these sublime solitudes, not far from Mira- 
 bles, a barouche with one person came up and halted. The 
 driver observing that I was weary, invited me to take a seat 
 with him, and I had a delightful ride to the Buddie Inn, a 
 neat cottage on a green slope beneath the cliff", and fronting 
 the ocean several hundred feet below. In this charming 
 retirement I remained over night. An agreeable gentleman 
 and his lady at the cottage^ cheered me till a late hour with 
 their conversation. The moon sparkled in magic beauty on 
 the sea, and some of the clear light trembled through the 
 coppice and trellises in front of my window. The traveller 
 
ELACKGANG CHINE. jog 
 
 Before sunrise I journeyed through Niton, where there is 
 a famous chalybeate spring, containing a large amount of 
 alum and iron. At the spring stands a neat cottage; but the 
 inmates were not up, and descending the hill a little farther 
 on, a finger-board points " To the Blackgang Chine," by a 
 declivity of several hundred yards. When viewed from 
 the seashore below, it is awfully grand. A chine is a breach 
 or fissure in a ridge of rocks, cleft abruptly downward. Here 
 I saw rude shelving rocks, five hundred feet high, down which 
 descends a stream into the dark cavernous basin underneath 
 the cliff, worn by the action of waves. On the narrow ledge 
 of land near the highest side of this mighty precipice stands 
 a hut, whose inmates have braved the storms of many years. 
 The striped appearance of the rocky strata is very curious. 
 A person may stand inside of this chasm, and admire all the 
 rainbow hues formed by the spray trickling from above. 
 
 Between Blackgang Chine and Freshwater Bay, some ten 
 miles westward, the coast scenery is less rugged, and a 
 glimpse may be caught of the Needles at the far distant point 
 of the island. These jagged, pointed rocks, rising out of the 
 sea, are supposed to have been caused by land-slips from the 
 stupendous masses of rock on tlie coast. Their present form 
 may be owing to the action of the sea. At this distance they 
 look like a fleet of large and small vessels, or so many ice- 
 bergs; and have been aptly compared to " the jagged grinders 
 of a stupendous jaw." 
 
 Having traversed all along the bold, south coast, I turned 
 off to the north-eastward, at Chale, The landscape on the 
 way to Newport is open and hilly: and though there are few 
 trees, yet the uncommon beauty and fertily of the country 
 near Chillerton, Shorwell, and Gatcombe, make up for this. 
 Indeed, in every direction, the island is one universal Eden 
 of fruitful vales and graceful hills, teeming with verdure. 
 On the summit of many commanding hills, overlooking the 
 country at an immense distance, were tall, whi:e obelisks. 
 
200 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 Of these, the most imposing is Godshill, and its chuieh on a 
 romantic knoll, at the base of the hill. The only tavern for 
 twelve miles Vv^as a very sorry one called the Star, where I 
 stopped to breakfast, and got from the mistress thereof, a 
 woman with a vinegar visage, a cup of execrable coffee ] and 
 though I had ample '''grounds" of complaint, I " settled" for 
 it peaceably, I recommend the Star as the meanest tavern 
 in all England. At the next house a gentleman gave me in 
 the kindest manner a diagram of all the roads, towns, and 
 curiosities I should pass, which proved a needful help ; for 
 I soon came to a place wihere no less than five roads met. 
 
 Tw^o miles from Newport lies the picturesque village of 
 Carisbrook, with its famous castle. Turning with the road 
 that skirts the castle-crowned hill, an antique gateway, once 
 part of the outworks, but now isolated, first meets the view, 
 and then the entrance of the castle between two round towers, 
 graceful in their brown Norman architecture and rich green 
 ivy. My mind beheld unhappy Charles roaming within these 
 walls, in desponding negligence, mournfully musing on his 
 fallen majesty, or vainly planning escapes from his grated 
 window ; and then his grief-stricken daughter, who died a 
 prisoner here after his execution. There is a well here two 
 hundred feet deep, and another of three hundred. 
 
 Newport the largest town in the island, has a population 
 of less than five thousand. Knov/ing of nothing remarkable 
 enough to delay me long here, I took an easterly route by 
 Shide Mills and St. George's Down, to Arreton. From the 
 top of these downs, the prospect is grand and far-reaching 
 all around the smoky horizon. About three miles north of 
 this is East Cowes, where the Queen was on a visit; but 
 Arreton is nearer, and has more charms. 
 
 The road to Arreton is rather narrow, and the high haw- 
 thorn hedges fairly shut off" the view for some distance ; yet 
 this is amply made up by its lonely quiet. The town is near 
 the base of a hill. The church, like that of Brading, is in 
 
GRAVE OF THE DAIRYMAN'S DAUGHTER. £01 
 
 (he middle of the graveyard by the road; but it is larger and 
 more convenient. I climbed up and looked into the church 
 where Elizabeth Wallbridge worshipped, and saw many 
 monuments, and a handsome organ, I strayed around the 
 churchyard amid the tall grass, where sleep the dead of old; 
 yet only one among hundreds of graves had peculiar charms. 
 While glancing at one and another of the headstones in search 
 of " Elizabeth," a voice outside the churchyard wall startled 
 me — " There's what you're looking for !" If a voice from the 
 clouds had broke upon me, I should not have wondered more. 
 Looking round, I saw only a man's head above the high wall, 
 and one arm pointing to her grave. Such a scene at night 
 would have frightened me from my propriety. Even in the 
 daytime it was altogether romantic. But a truce to romance. 
 We are dealing with sober realities, I sat down on a green 
 mound to read the plain gravestone four feet high. 
 
 To the Memory of 
 ELIZABETH WALLBRIDGE, 
 
 " The Dairyman's Daughter,'- 
 Who died May 30, 1801, aged 31 years. 
 
 She being dead, yet speaketh. 
 Stranger ! if e'er by chance or feeling led, 
 Upon this hallowed turf thy footsteps tread, 
 Turn from the contemplation of this sod. 
 And think on her whose spirit rests with God. 
 Lowly her lot on 'earth ; but He, who bore 
 Tidings of grace and blessings to the poor, 
 Gave her, his truth and faithfulness to prove, 
 The choicest pleasures of his boundless love — 
 Faith, that dispelled affliction's darkest gloom, 
 Hope, that could cheer the passage to the tomb. 
 Peace, that not Hell's dark legions could destroy, 
 And Love, that filled the soul with heavenly joy. 
 Death of its sting disarmed, she knew no fear, 
 But tasted heaven e'en while she lingered here. 
 Oh ! happy saint ! may we, like thee, be ^est — 
 In life be faithful, and in death find wst 
 
 " Stranger !" That stranger was me ! I had read that 
 epitaph a hundred times, but no copy was so deeply affecting 
 as the one I took with my own pencil from the tomb itself. 
 
202 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 It would be senseless affectation not to place it here, though 
 never so many millions ha' e been jablished. I lay claim 
 to no more sensibility than others: yet the force of circum- 
 stances often makes a wide difference^ even in ourselves. 
 Why does the aspen tremble, when the oak, sturdy and proud, 
 is still? I know not ! God maketh them to differ. I thank 
 God I am like the aspen. A tear stole into my eye, while 
 gazing on this picture of sublime moral beauty. I am sorry 
 for any one who has no tears to shed on such a spot. My 
 reverend friend in the north of England said I would see 
 that he had cut out the moss which had clogged the letters ; 
 and I plainly observed his chisellings. Close to this grave 
 is that of her sister. 
 
 The Dairyman's Cottage is at Spicers, a mile and a half 
 from Arreton. It is a lovely and quiet dale, with here and 
 there a cottage. On the way, I remarked the graphic beauty 
 of the scenery depictured by Mr. Richmond. I stood, turned, 
 and transferred it to memory. There it is. It may fade, but 
 not die. The hill that re-echoed the voices of the singers, 
 seeming to give faint replies, as the funeral procession of 
 Elizabeth was on its way to the church, was part of Ashey 
 Down, a long and graceful ridge, a mile from the cottage -, 
 and I was travelling the same road the procession did when 
 " the funeral knell was distinctly heard from the tower." And 
 now I see the thatched roof of the humble cottage, a little 
 way from the road, and half hid by a few tall elms in front, 
 beautified with shrubbery and flowers. "I remember the 
 house where I was born;" but it would be as easy to forget 
 it as the appearance of that unpretending cottage by the 
 roadside in the sequestered vale of Spicers. I entered at the 
 same old wicket-gate, and was courteously received by Mr. 
 Joseph Wallbridge, the present occupant of the Dairyman's 
 Cottage. He is a slender built man, of some fifty years, 
 '•brown with meridian toil," in menner, open and bland, 
 with good conversational abilities; and withal, a pretty 
 
DAIRYMAN'S COTTAGE. 203 
 
 stringent Churchman. During an hour of intense interest, I 
 picked up a number of little family excerpts such as never 
 find their way into books, and which it would be a breach of 
 confidence to blazon. Mr. W. said he was the last of the 
 Wallbridge family, and I understood him to say he was the 
 Dairyman's nephew. Here was Elizabeth's bible, a plain 
 octavo, and in her own hand, "Elizabeth Wallbridge, her 
 book, Sept. 1801." Several visiters' names were written in 
 it, against the wishes of the family. Doubtless they thought 
 by ingrafting their names therein they would go down to 
 posterity with Elizabeth, the cottager; but instead of this, 
 they will be more likely to inherit an immortality decidedly 
 vulgar. For one to whittle his name on a church door, pew, 
 or dining-table w^here he is a guest, would be pronounced 
 a piece of stupid presumption. A book for visiters' names 
 has been kept at the cottage for the last fifty years. 
 
 On expressing a wish to see the room where Elizabeth 
 died, the kind lady of the cottage replied — 
 
 "We have for many years ceased to show that room." 
 
 " May I be so bold as to ask why. Madam ?" inquired I. 
 
 "0 Sir, such queer remarks are made by pride in silks!" 
 
 " That shows they have neither politeness nor common 
 sense ; but you know I have uo sympathy with such people. 
 If you could consent to break your rule in my case, it w-ould 
 gratify no idle curiosity." 
 
 "Well, there it is, Sir," said she, pointing to the door: 
 " step up." 
 
 That oblong attic, with an Elizabethan gable window, 
 
 '•Is privileged beyond the common walk." 
 
 It is the scene of as much thrilling interest as all the splen- 
 did palaces of Louis XIV. I had seen at Verseilles a week 
 before ] for the footsteps of angels have been here. I have 
 visited the palaces and sat in the chairs in which the kings 
 of England, Scotland, and France were crowned for centu- 
 ries, with no such feeling as when I visited the Dairyman's 
 
204 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 cottage. The chair in which she died is at the American 
 Tract House, New- York, having been presented to the insti- 
 tution. I may as well say I am no "worshipper of relics;" 
 and am not aware of sustaining any injury from having sat 
 in that old splinter-bottom chair with a calico cushion. 
 
 For half a crown I obtained a neat little engraving of the 
 Dairyman's Cottage, sprinkled over with the fine brown of 
 sand of that part of the island, which will serve as a curious 
 memento. Mr. W. presented me a map of the Isle of Wight, 
 with his autograph, "as a token of respect." He'remarked 
 that the Rev. Mr. Richmond of New- York, wlio spent a year 
 in England, preached often at Arreton. The parish register 
 contains an extended account of his ministerial services per- 
 formed by request of the rector, in his absence. I saw many 
 American names on the book of visiters, where, of course, I 
 put mine. 
 
 The simple tale of the Dairyman's Daughter has been 
 translated into twenty languages, " Their sound has gone 
 out into all lands, and their words unto the ends of the 
 world;" and will visit "every nation, and tongue, and kin- 
 dred, and people." 
 
 On taking a most reluctant leave of this charming spot, I 
 forgot, through excitement, (for I was half crazed with de- 
 light, and I don't care who knows it,) sundry letters of intro- 
 duction, documents, and wayside pencillings, of little value 
 to anybody but the owner thereof, and crossed the downs to 
 Newchurch, by Kniton ; reaching Ryde at dusk. I had per- 
 formed that day a circuitous journey of full thirty miles, and 
 half that number the day previous. At R,yde, who should I 
 meet but the Rev. Mr. MacGuire of Manchester, by whom 
 I had been so hospitably entertained. 
 
 The climate of the island is uncommonly healthy, and 
 there is little or no winter. Houses and farms rent high and 
 readily, and no one is anxious to sell. 
 
 Those were two glorious days I spent in the Isle of Wight ! 
 
CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 ^s he Avho travels far oft tnrns aside 
 To view some rugged rock or mouldering tower, 
 Which seen delights him not ; then coming home, 
 Describes and prints it, that the world may know 
 How far he went for what was nothing worth. 
 
 The Tash. 
 
 Having glanced at the Isle of Wiglit, that glorious gar- 
 den of England, let us now hasten up to smoky old Lo;idon. 
 Crossing over to Portsmouth, while waiting for the up train 
 at eleven, I had a good look at the famous old ship Victory, 
 in which Lord Nelson was killed at the battle of Trafalgar, 
 moored a little way from the land. Had time permitted, a 
 visit to the world-renowned navy yard at Portsea, near 
 Portsmouth would have been gratifying; but #still greater 
 difficulty interposed. John Bull permits no foreigner to see 
 his extensive apparatus for killing off mankind. An English- 
 man advised me to pass myself off as an old countryman; 
 but I told him, though I had no objection to be mistaken for 
 an Englishman, it was against my principles to assume the 
 "front de boBuf." Besides, my friends at home would know 
 I had "walked round the truth" pretty considerably; and 
 I wish to keep up my reputation for veracity — never to be 
 trifled with. And so I did not go in. 
 
 I am now gliding up to London. Every avenue to London 
 from the most distant part of the kingdom, is called " up," 
 the contrary, "down." The Winchester cathedral, a splen- 
 did Gothic structure, standing on the highest part of a smooth, 
 extensive green, is a picture too fresh and bright to escape 
 the admiration of the most careless beholder. All the way 
 18 
 
206 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 through Sussex, Hampshire, and Surrey, you see the same 
 garden-like verdure, without a single unsightly object. 
 
 Early in the afternoon I am at London, after an absence 
 of two weeks. A friend obtained a ticket to the debates at 
 the House of Commons, and agreeable company increased the 
 pleasure of the evening. One of the subjects under discus- 
 sion was an appropriation for fitting up Holyrood Palace for 
 her Majesty. Three hours' attendance afforded a* tolerably 
 good insight into British Parliamentary tactics. Many of 
 the great leaders spoke, such as D' Israeli, Hume, and Lord 
 John Russell. Mr. Hume jocosely replied to the Chancellor 
 of the Exchequer, who had spoken of the appropriation as a 
 great convenience to her Majesty, so that she might sleep 
 in her own house, (Holyrood Palace), on her way to the 
 Highlands — that there were excellent hotels in Edinburgh, 
 and as her Majesty spent but a few hours there every sum- 
 mer, he thought the expense needless. He said that £172,000 
 a-year was allowed for her Majesty's household, £131,000 
 for salaries of household servants, and £14,000 for the royal 
 bounty. Ldid John stuck to the measure through thick and 
 thin, as Prime Minister in duty bound, and the measure was 
 finally carried, and probably would have been if the amount 
 had been twice that sum. The great difiiculty in England 
 seems to be^ what is the largest possible amount that can be 
 squandered on a given object. Nor does this apply to Eng- 
 land alone. Another subject was Mr. Barry's contract for 
 the House of Lords — whether he had fulfilled it or not. The 
 debates of the evening were characterized by good-humour 
 and brevity, most of the speeches being from five to fifteeu 
 minutes long. There was sharp-shooting, cross-firing, spicy 
 and pithy repartees, but nothing coarse : no long-winded 
 intellectual exhalations of vanity and conceit. I do not say 
 there are not examples of this soft in Parliament; I am tell- 
 ing what I heard. With the exception of the gowns and 
 wigs of the presiding officers, things were much as we have 
 
HOUSE OF COMMONS. 207 
 
 them in our Congress. No, no — I'm wrong. The.e were 
 no pitch battles, collaring, seizing by the throat, firing pistols, 
 and drawing bowie-knives ! 
 
 But I must leave England ! On the third of August, I 
 took a reluctant leave of London and the Londoners. But 
 I am going home ! Kinder people I never hope to see. No 
 wonder the amiable poet said of his country, 
 
 England, with all thy faults, I love thee still! 
 
 But I am thoroughly American, and love my country like- 
 wise. Enough has been said and printed in past years 
 to inflame the deadly hatred which sprung chiefly from two 
 wars. We won in both, for we were in the right But now, 
 there no longer exists any cause why we should liate each 
 other. People now begin to see this in the Old and New 
 World. The spirit of war is the spirit of hell. It is hell ! 
 
 "Silicia cannot show himself over kind to Bohemia. Since their moi-e ma- 
 ture dignities and royal necessities made separation of their society, they have 
 seemed to be together, though absent ; shook hands as over a vast ; and em- 
 braced, as it were, from the ends of opposed winds. The heavens continue 
 their loves." 
 
 One thing struck me forcibly — the absence of vulgar pre- 
 judice, even among the middle and lower ranks. The Ame- 
 rican name insured respect, attention, and newly-awakened 
 interest. At once they wanted to hear a hundred things 
 about America. Any case of unkind feeling, or of gross igno- 
 rance of our country and its institutions, is no more than an 
 exception, if it is that, inasmuch as this ignorance is often 
 involuntary, and not wilful. Another thing : the great heart 
 of the British nation cares or knows as litt le about those old 
 quarrels as we seem to do about our injusi ice to the Indians. 
 The English people at large had nothing to do with those 
 disputes. It was the work of their government. And even 
 when the British Ministry laboured for peace, it was George 
 III. who refused, in spite of the eloquence of such great 
 spirits as Pitt. True, this is an old story; but when over- 
 hauled and dusted, it is just as interesting as if new. 
 
208 FIRST VISIT TO EUHOPE. 
 
 The thought of going home brought a bright sky over the 
 mind. And the outer day was equally joyous — cool, breezy, 
 and bright, the last item a rather unusual one for England. 
 Everything on the railway route from London to Liverpool 
 looked as fresh and new as it did two months before. 
 
 The railway passes a dark tunnel of two miles under the 
 city of Liverpool. The sudden transition from these regions 
 of black despair — for they resemble nothing so much — into 
 the blaze of city lamps and the brilliant splendour of the 
 immense railway station, with its magnificent glass roof and 
 long ranges of chandeliers, is absolutely bewildering. At 
 Liverpool I staid tv/o days, taking fresh glances at the lovely 
 scenery across the Mersey, St. John's Park, Birkenhead, and 
 other parts of Cheshire. No traveller should neglect to 
 visit them. If he should, he will have one consolation — he 
 cannot know his loss. 
 
 My last Sunday in England vv^as spent in Liverpool. At 
 St. George's Church the music was equal to any I heard in 
 Europe ; but I heard no sermons in Great Britain that could 
 at all compare with those of Rev. Dr. McNeille, of Liverpool, 
 and Rev. John Gregg, of Dublin. But I have not the slight- 
 est wish to praise them as if there were not many such. 
 
 On taking leave of George Wright, Esq. who befriended me 
 in trouble on arriving in England, he inquired if I needed any 
 money. I told him, extortion of the London and Liverpool 
 packets had compelled me to write from Paris to a friend in 
 Glasgow to secure a berth in the steamship City of Glasgow, 
 and was on my way to Scotland the second time. The letter 
 was just in time for the last berth. The fare was but twelve 
 guineas, or $55, a third less than the London packets. You 
 can afford to travel all the way from London, and view the 
 glories of land and sea, and save cash besides. A new line of 
 propellers has been established between Liverpool and New- 
 York. Prices are destined to a still cheaper scale, and then 
 we shall all view the glorious scenes of the Old World ! 
 
GOOD-BYE TO THE OLD WORLD. £09 
 
 A friend accompanied me to the steamship for Glasgow, and 
 I was again a lonely stranger on the stormy deep for the fifth 
 time. Old England, farewell ! Never could I have dreamed 
 that the last look at thy shores would give such pain ! 
 
 The night was rainy and unpleasant ; and what is worse, 
 the berths were all engaged. However, one of the engineers 
 gave me his bed for half a crown; and, notwithstanding the 
 boisterous billows, Jonah-like, I went down into the sides of 
 the ship, and fell asleep. It seemed as if the raging of the 
 sea when the prophet fled to Tarshish could not have been 
 more tempestuous. And it was natural I should be afraid, for 
 
 Before midnight we had passed the isles of Man, Arran, 
 and Bute, and those remarkable elevations called the large 
 and small Cummmaris. 
 
 Glasgow, which we reached in about twenty hours, looked 
 more beautiful than ever. Acquaintance previously made 
 gave a livelier interest to the second visit. 
 
 Scotland ! to-morrow I must leave thy green hills veiled 
 in mist ! thy milk-white mountain stream.s, and silver lakes. 
 I have seen Scotland; and now leave it with a full heart. 
 Farewell to the land of song ! 
 
 Our steamship left the Clyde amid the cheers of twenty 
 thousand. All Glasgow seemed assembled on the river banks. 
 An immense number of boys followed the ship for miles. 
 Every vessel was decked with signals. Salutes fired from 
 the ship were followed by shout after shout from the mul- 
 titudes, half concealed by a blue veil of cannon-smoke. 
 
 There is something extremely sublime and exhilarating in 
 such a sight. To me it was a scene of wonderful interest. 
 
 Mr. Wright had favoured me with a line to Captain 
 
 Mathews, although I discovered afterward that nothing of 
 
 that sort, however agreeable in itself, was needful to insure 
 
 his kindness. T shall take the liberty to call him a model 
 
 18* 
 
210 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 captain. There was none of the conseqnentia I, blustering 
 air about him ; but the very reverse — modest, sociable, even- 
 tempered, cheerful, with a liberal sprinkle of gayety. It was 
 really delightful to sail under such a commander. Sometimes 
 while silently sitting and making notes, he would come up 
 behind me unawares, and striking me gently on the shoulder, 
 say in a low voice, " Make a note that we have a very fine 
 day !" When not showing attentions to the ship, or in giving 
 orders, he was always ready to answer inquiries about the ten 
 thousand wonders of the ocean. Passengers in the first and 
 second cabin were allowed promiscuously to promenade the 
 whole length of the long deck; and, apart from sea-sickness 
 and storms, when all but the officers and crew generally 
 keep below, there are few days in the voyage of life more 
 agreeable than those sixteen days that we spent on the 
 mighty deep. Coming in close, social contact as we did, 
 the distinctions of wealth and fortune were measurably for- 
 gotten: every one sought his neighbour's comfort, and in this 
 way unwittingly promoted his own. How great is the power 
 of sympathy ! A gentleman and lady walking the deck to 
 and fro, often paused to inquire, " How do you get along, 
 Sir ? We are sorry to see you look so ill ! You will soon 
 be better !" Kind words like these did make me better. In 
 faii»weather, the passengers amused themselves on deck by 
 reading, conversation, or playing shuffle-board; while I was 
 chiefly occupied in contemplating the watery wastes of the 
 Atlantic. During the first and latter part of the voyage, 
 many a ship might be seen through a telescope, whitening 
 the horizon. 
 
 On the third day out, when about three hundred miles 
 from the north coast of Ireland, the sea became very boister- 
 ous, finally increasing to a perfect tempest which lasted 
 two days. Up to this time, all the storms I had ever encoun- 
 tered were breezes in comparison. Often during that storm 
 all hope of seeing my native land seemed ready to expire. 
 
A STORM AT SEA. 211 
 
 The ship rolled fearfully ; and when night shut in, all was 
 wild confusion and huge uproar. The sea thumped against 
 the ship like fifty whales smiting her at once. The huge bil- 
 lows roared and broke over the deck with tremendous swoop, 
 sometimes rushing down through the hatches into the cabins 
 although kept closed against all but needful egress. The 
 masts and rigging creaked, timbers and every kind of mova- *' 
 ble were shifted to and fro with fearful noise and velocity. 
 Stools, tables, and trunks were upset and knocked about the 
 cabins ; while, as a kind of graceful interlude in this grand 
 concert of the ocean, kettles and tin pans rattled, agreeably 
 varied by the shrill sound of a whole raft of crockery let * 
 loose from their moorings in the buttery, and the treble 
 ching of tumblers, rightly so called. It was just as if a 
 whole crockery-store were falling piecemeal. In this way it 
 continued with variations, for two days and nights. ! that 
 was a storm to be remembered ! Yet, during all this time, 
 the officers were as cool and steady as an iceberg. They 
 were, indeed, the only objects not moveable. As for me, I lay 
 on my back almost insensible, for thirty-six hours, meditat- 
 ing on sharks and sea-monsters, and the caverns in the 
 ocean depths; for, people may moralize as much as they # 
 please, these horrors will seize upon poor human nature 
 at such times. 
 
 Sunday morning, when the captain came round to see how 
 the passengers got along, he remarked that we had had a 
 very trying time last night, and in answer to many eager 
 inquiries about the safety of the ship, told us the wind would 
 have its blow out. One gentleman had his life-preserver 
 ready before him. Mine was down in the hold covered with 
 a ton of baggage ! Of what use is a life-preserver in such 
 a tempest ? A man might live perhaps fifteen minutes. At 
 night the sky was black as Erebus. In the daytime, it was 
 about the colour of ink, with a feeble glimmer on the white 
 waves boiling like a pot. When the sun's plac( could be 
 
2J2- FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 seen, to use a comparison of another, it looked like a boiled 
 turnip. The breakfast table was deserted, or rather, few or 
 none could creep to it ; and if they could, what good would ii 
 do? Talk of eating ! 
 
 When the sky -cleared away, the ocean was a scene of ter- 
 rible majesty. It takes a long time for the waves to cease 
 their war, even after the winds " forget their furious force." 
 Our black pilgrim of the seas moves right onward in proud 
 disdain, and graceful dignity, like a thing of life, breasting 
 the billows that strike her bosom, and then, parting to right 
 and left, turn over and die in an ecstasy of disappointed fury. 
 She moves, night after night, day after day, along the blue 
 bosom of the watery vast, belching a spiral cloud of pitchy 
 smoke that trails over the sky ; and though the waves often 
 "roar and toss themselves, yet can they not prevail." She 
 answers every buffet with calm disdain, like some heroic 
 Christian pursued by persecuting scorn. Her prow points 
 always in the same direction — to the New World — "the 
 land that is very far off beyond the setting sun. There is 
 my Home ! 
 
 On the second Sunday, it was a sublime sight to witness 
 one hundred and fifty souls assembled to offer prayer and 
 praise to the "high and mighty Ruler of the universe," 
 " who holds the winds in his fists, and the waters in the hol- 
 low of his hand." The blue canopy of heaven overhung the 
 great deep. What a temple wherein to worship the Almighty 
 Majesty of Heaven ! There were five clergymen on board. 
 The sermon by an American divine, was beautifully appro- 
 priate. In the afternoon. Captain Mathews read the service 
 of the Church of England, and a minister of the Free Church 
 of Scotland preached an impressive off-hand discourse. 
 
 When within two days' sail of New- York, the passengers 
 were speculating on the probability of meeting the steamship 
 Pacific, being aware of the hour she would leave New- York ; 
 and the various telescopes were in constant usfj during the 
 
AN OCEAN SALUTE. 213 
 
 afternoon. At last a blackish speck was discovered, which 
 grew bigger and bigger. " That's her !— that's her !" cried 
 a dozen at once. " She is slipping along like grease !" cried 
 another. When near enough to make assurance doubly sure, 
 the captain, trumpet in hand, stood on his platform elevated 
 a dozen feet above the deck, and prepared to salute this mon- 
 ster of the deep. The British flag was run up, and the big 
 gun loaded. " All hands stand by for three cheers !" When 
 the Pacific, which passed within quarter of a mile, came 
 nearly opposite, a red blaze rushed from the cannon's mouth, 
 accompanied by a terrific peal of British thunder, followed 
 by three deafening shouts, almost loud enough to make the 
 ship spring a leak. When the smoke cleared off we had a 
 fine broadside view of this noble ship. Most of the passen- 
 gers were British, and many of them having never seen an 
 American steamship, expressed their admiration at her huge 
 size and beautiful proportions. " We spoiled their dinner 
 that time !" cried one, as the passengers crowded the deck 
 of the Pacific. We had taken them by surprise, which will 
 account for their not returning our salute. 
 
 There is no subliraer sight than a ship at sea. Elsewhere, 
 the most wonderful works of man seem insignificant beside 
 the majestic objects of nature; but here, the very littleness 
 of a vessel, alone, on the boundless ocean, gives her indescri- 
 bable grandeur. To me, this meeting was unspeakably sub- 
 lime. At the hour when about once more to see my native 
 shores, with a heart overflowing with gratitude to Him who 
 had guided me through all my wanderings, and restored 
 me to health and home — then I fancied the giant Pacific, 
 sailing away toward the land where I had found so many 
 kind Christian friends, and received such unbounded delight, 
 was like Jacob's ladder, connecting heaven with earth. For 
 the memory of that old and venerable land, even now, hung . 
 around me like a dream of heaven; while the well-remem- 
 bered shores of America were the dearest spot of earth. I felt 
 
214 FIRST VISIT TO EUROPE. 
 
 that the words of Jacob's God might apply to me: "And 
 behold, I am with thee, and will keep thee in all places 
 whither thou goest, and will bring thee again into this 
 land; for 1 will not leave thee." Pride for my noble coun- 
 try, mingled with a crowd of delightful emotions, swelled 
 my bosom while watching the rapidly disappearing ship; 
 and then I descended to m.y cabin to prepare for home. 
 
 END. 
 
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