■vtferi o b!tt \ I r t ''I „i i f i : 'V \\ ,P yo THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA PRESENTED BY PROF. CHARLES A. KOFOID AND MRS. PRUDENCE W. KOFOID c/^^. at4i4 ^ • 'i Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2008 with funding from IVIicrosoft Corporation http://www.archive.org/details/footpathhighwayoOOmorarich .,ii^:% ^k THE jfn0t)nitj) an^ ligjitnaq: OR, BY BENJAMIN MORAN The young noble, who is whirled through Europe in his chariot, sees society at a peculiar elevation, and draws conclusions widely different from him who makes the grand tour on foot. Haud inexpertas loquor. — Goldsmith. PHILADELPHIA: LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO, AND CO. 1853. THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN IN GREAT BRITAIN, IN 1851 AND '52. BY BENJAMIN MORAN. The young noble, who is whirled through Europe in his chariot, sees society at a peculiar elevation, and draws conclusions widely dififerent from him who makes the grand tour on foot. Uavd inexpertas loquor. — Goldsmith, I PHILADELPHIA: LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO, AND CO. 1853. Entered according to the Act of Congress, in the year 1853, by LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO, AND CO., in the Office of the Clerk of the District Court of the United States in and for the Eastern District of Pennsylvania. TO JOHN GRIGG, Esq., IN TESTIMONY OF HIS GREAT EXEBTIONS IN PROMOTING AND EXTENDING THROUGHOUT THE SOUTH AND WEST, A PURE AND STERLING LITERATURE, Cliis %)Ami nf ^racrls IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED, BY THE AUTHOR. PKEFACE The press has teemed of late with the works of American tourists, some artistic, some scientific, and others, again, of a more purely literary type. There are, therefore, many readers who will doubtless expect an apology from one who ventures now to place himself and his itinerary before the public, though claiming no eminence in the world of letters and making little pretension to superiority in any particular accomplishment. But we live in an age when the people are becoming paramount in all things ; and the wanderings described in this little volume took place among a people more interesting to the American than any other upon earth. For forty years, the land from which we have drawn our politi- cal, and most of our social institutions, has been undergoing a quiet but important revolution, the tendency of which has been steadily to favor a closer approximation between the habits, feel- ings, hopes, and fears of the two great families of the Anglo-Saxon stock. While the one has advanced in a most brilliant career upon a republican model, the other has been continually soften- ing and smoothing down the salient points which chiefly distin- guish a limited monarchy from a republic. During these forty years, the United States has gradually lost the character of the " daughter" of Great Britain. She has assumed in her maturity the novel relationship of a sister ; and the reaction of her opinions, her manners, and her prosperity has come to be felt and acknow- ledged in the old homestead, with a force which few can appre- ciate until they have mingled with the English masses. The tourist of wealth and fame is thrown by circumstances M310168 VI PREFACE. chiefly into contact with the small minority which forms the upper classes, in countries where such classes are established. He sees little of the multitude — that multitude with whom it is not im- probable that we may be compelled, before many years have passed, to stand side by side in the armed defence of our common principles against the inveterate foes of our common liberties. The artistic or poetical tourist, usually more humble in fortune, is brought more closely into contact with the people ; but, accus- tomed to look upon nature and humanity under the reflected light of his own genius and taste, he is prone to see all things, whether charming or disgustful, in unreal colors, and his pictures too frequently owe more to the imagination than the judgment. The writer of the following pages claims not to belong to either of the foregoing classes of travellers. Educated to a mechanical profession, he has never aspired to move in the circles of wealth; and too busy with the realities of life to devote much time to the accomplishments, his offerings at the shrine of the muses have been few and little noted. But some moments of relaxation occur to all men, and from youth he has been blessed with occa- sional glances into the bright realms of soul-land. The songs of his father's fatherland were familiar to his childhood ; the classics and the nobler poems of England were read with avidity in some- what riper years ; and he learned to think, with a feeling amount- ing to awe, of those great master-spirits of literature whose writings have crowned them with immortality. To visit their distant graves — to stand in the shadow of the time-worn castle — to wander through the dim aisles of Gothic churches, and taste of those sacred springs from which they drew their inspiration, became a passion with him; and so soon as the slender accumulations of early industry warranted the undertaking, he flew to the accom- plishment of his desire. His journeyings in Scotland, Wales, and England were chiefly performed on foot, amid the pressure of many difficulties. The wayside cottage was a homo to him, and the wayfarer was his brother and his equal. His penoillings and sketches were partly communicated to American journals, that the proceeds might aid him on his way, but were chiefly preserved for the gratifi- PREFACE. Vll cation of a few who were near and dear to him, with a mere vague and dreamy idea that they might one day reach the public eye in volume form. They were submitted to the inspection of a literary friend, who urged their publication, and who, at his request, has penned this scarcely necessary preface. The author has looked upon England and the English from an unusual position ; and there is a truthfulness, an unpretending sincerity in his descriptions, which will carry the reader with him in his lonely rambles ; while even those who may be deeply versed in the history of the country and its literature, will find within these pages some illustrations both of men and things which they will prize not lightly. With these remarks, the volume is committed to the public, in the full faith that it will not be deemed a useless or imperti- nent addition to the long catalogue of recent tours. C. CONTENTS. CHAPTER I. PAGE The voyage ....... 13 CHAPTER II. Something about Ireland . . . . .27 CHAPTER III. Liverpool — The ship's fate . . . . .41 CHAPTER IV. Manchester and its vicinity . . . . ' . 47 CHAPTER V. Sheffield — Wharncliffe wood — Chatsworth . . .56 CHAPTER VI. Homes and graves of Byron and Mary Chaworth — Notting- ham — Henry Kirke "White . . . . .68 CHAPTER VII. "Walk to Derby — London — Incidents and remarkable places . 80 CHAPTER VIII. London thoroughfares — Society — The Parks — "The "World's Fair" 95 CHAPTER IX. Rambles and reflections in London — Tablet in Temple Church to Goldsmith — Tomb of Capt. John Smith, the Virginian — Stoke Pogis Church, scene of Gray's *' Elegy" . . 112 CHAPTER X. London to Stratford-upon-Avon .... 129 X CONTENTS. CHAPTER XI. PAOK Warwick — Kenilworth — Coventry — Birmingham — Steel-pens — A nailer's shop and home — Shenstone's grave — The Lea- sowes — Dudley — A storm ..... 140 CHAPTER XII. Lichfield — Staffordshire potteries — Chester — Meeting an old friend — Preston . . . . . .150 CHAPTER XIII. The Lake country of England .... 156 CHAPTER XIV. From the Mersey to the Clyde — Glasgow — An American ship — The town — Cathedral and University . . . 163 CHAPTER XV. Ayr — Burns's cottage — Kirk Alloway, and the "Banks o' Doon" 169 CHAPTER XVI. The Scottish lakes — A walk from Loch Lomond to Loch Ke- turin — An incident on Loch Keturin — Ride to Sterling . 172 CHAPTER XVII. Scotland's capital ...... 179 CHAPTER XVIII. A visit to the tomb of Michael Bruce, a young Scottish poet . 189 CHAPTER XIX. Melrose — Abbotsford — Dryburgh Abbey, the burial-place of Sir Walter Scott 194 CHAPTER XX. Alnwick Castle — York Minster — Lincoln—The fens, etc. . 201 CHAPTER XXI. London — Northumberland House — Hampton Court — Madame Taussaud's — Vernon gallery, etc. .... 212 CHAPTER XXII. Jewish quarter — Public statues — Peculiarities . . 218 CONTENTS. XI CHAPTER XXIII. PAGE Waiting for remittances — A trip inland — Travelling compa- nions — The country — The towns — A journey on foot — Farm wages — Rustics and their shoes — The language — A negro and his wife — Temple Newsam .... 222 CHAPTER XXIV. Leeds and her manufactures — Working people — Kirkstall Abbey 232 ' CHAPTER XXV. Harrowgate — Knaresborough — Eugene Aram — Ripen— -Foun- tains Abbey — Brimham Rocks — Reflections . . 238 '.CHAPTER XXVI. A walk— Wakefield— Valley of the Calder — Rochdale — Queen's visit to Manchester and Liverpool — Eaton Hall . . 247 CHAPTER XXVII. Wales — Walk to Mold and St. Asaph — An incident at an inn — ^Bangor tubular bridge — Suspension bridge — Welsh nationalities ...;... 253 CHAPTER XXVIII. A wedding-party — Shrewsbury — Market-day — Battlefield Church 268 CHAPTER XXIX. A walk — Hare-shooting — Travelling companions — Kidder- minster — Ride to Worcester — The town and its cathedral . 272 CHAPTER XXX. Commercial Travellers — Gloucester and its cathedral — Hostel- ries . . . . . . . .281 CHAPTER XXXI. The west of England— Bristol— St. Mary Redcliflfe— Sir Wm. Draper's tomb — Sterne's "Eliza" — Lady Hesketh — Clifton Downs — Colston School — Pronunciation . . . 288 CHAPTER XXXII. Bath— Its beauty — Abbey Church — An incident . . 299 Zll CONTENTS. CHAPTER XXXIII. PAOI A coachman — Incidents on the road — "Wells — Its palace and cathedral — Glastonbury Abbey — Sedgemoor — A Saturday night in an inn — Monmouth's rebellion . . . 304 CHAPTER XXXIV. Fun and fogs — Salisbury and its cathedral — A walk to Stone- henge over Salisbury Plain . . . . .316 CHAPTER XXXV. Winchester and its attractions — St. Cross Hospital — King Arthur's Round Table . . . . .328 CHAPTER XXXVI. Return to London — Rambles — Old places — Fallen women . 336 CHAPTER XXXVII. Dining of the Blue Coat school-boys — Duke of Wellington — Mechanics — Tradesmen — Socialists .... 342 CHAPTER XXXVIII. Cambridge and its University — The Eastern Counties . 350 CHAPTER XXXIX. Norwich — Churches — People — Its treadmill — Lowestoft — Yarmouth — Farm hands and farmers — Falstaff's castle — Acle — Farming and products — Village preacher — Wherries 359 CHAPTER XL. A visit to Rlickling Hall, the birthplace of Anne Boleyn . 370 CHAPTER XLI. The resting-place of William Cowper . » . . . 375 CHAPTER XLII. English railways ...... 378 CHAPTER XLIII. Brighton: its appearance — The pavilion — Esplanade — A night with a Blue Coat boy ..... 386 CHAPTER XLIV. Farewell to England . . . . . .389 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY. CHAPTER I THE VOYAGE. "Let go that hawser!" '^Ay, ay, sir!" And away bounded the sailors to perform the order so peremptorily uttered. "Give her a turn back, Mr. Smith. Steady, now, steady \" and as the command fell from the captain's lips, the stanch steamship Lafayette moved slowly from her mooring at Pine Street Wharl, Philadelphia, and swung gracefully round into the Delaware, amidst the shouts of thousands, and the roar of her own guns. "Stop her!" " Stop her it is, sir !" said the engineer, and there she lay upon the waters motionless. The huge monster appeared as if in the act of drawing a long inspiration before starting upon her untried journey; and, with her head turned seaward, looked as if eager to be moving onward. " Farewell !" " good-by — a happy voyage and prosperous wea- ther !" and such like greetings met the ears of the passengers as many of us were recognized by friends on shore. The half- smothered adieus of a few were scarcely intelligible ; while the tears of the gentler sex flowed freely. Some of those on board half regretted the step they had taken, and wished themselves on land • but there was now no retreat. A tow-boat came along-side, and as we had a bar to cross it was important that we should have her aid. She soon attached her tough cords to our huge ship ; and then, all things being in readi- ness, the final order to " go ahead" was given, and we started, 2 14 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; upon our voyage across the Atlantic. Handkerchiefs were waved, shouts went up, and '' the diapason of the cannonade" mingled its bass with the gruff chorus of more than a thousand human voices. The wharves were black with citizens ; and, as the distance was increased between our ship and them, the faces of friends were lost to recognition, and the parting was complete. The tug relaxed her boa-like attachments as soon as we passed the bar J and, as our ship was left to herself, she dashed boldly on her way. I turned to survey my fellow- voyagers; but of the many around me, there was not a single face 1 knew, or one that knew me. All were strangers, and each occupied with his own thoughts. Some were sad, some shy, some curious about the ship and her rigging, and some disposed to be sociable. The decks were filled with uncoiled ropes, the sailors busy running to and fro, and the pilot quick with his orders. All the ofl&cers and men appeared to have plenty to do — the passengers nothing. The vessel kept gallantly on her course, with a fair prospect of reaching the capes of Delaware, one hundred and thirty miles below Philadelphia, by morning ; but — ulas for human anticipa- tions! — a break occurred ere she had completed thirty miles, and in less time than two hours from port she was snugly and quietly at anchor off Wilmington, Delaware, as calmly as if she meant to go to sleep for the night. Curiosity was busy among the passengers as to the cause of detention ; but no one could tell. The mates were ignorant of the why. None dared to ask the captain, and the engineers were not visible. The pilot looked unutterable things ; the officers joked about waiting for the tide when questioned as to the reasons for stopping; but no satisfaction could be had. The firemen and ma- chinists came up from below at intervals to breathe the fresh air, and they certainly looked as if they wanted cooling, for each one was half roasted. We could hear the clang of hammers in the engine-room, and that was all. A break had evidently occurred; but what it was no one would tell. Some of the passengers began to grow nervous, and talked about leaving the ship ; others con- sidered the stoppage an ominous beginning of what would be a perilous voyage; while many cared nothing about the detention OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 15 or the cause of it, and coolly smoked cigars, and speculated about the World's Fair. " We're in for it," said one at my side; ^' and, as the ship has only broken her engine once in thirty miles, we have cause for congratulating each other on the excellence of her machinery, and the prospect of reaching Europe in a month'' I lauded his composure in the hour of adversity. We became friends, and forgot the accident in each other's company. Night gradually approached; the watches were appointed, and preparations made for sea; but the vessel remaioed stationary. The only incident that occurred worthy of note was a quarrel be- tween the first officer and one of the sailors. The tar came on board drunk, and when called on deck to take his place in the watch, became insolent, and inclined for fight. He was ordered below, but disregarded the officer, and drew his knife to plunge it into the mate, but was knocked down for his pains, and very uncere- moniously tumbled down the hatchway of the forecastle, and the hatch closed upon him, so that he might reflect upon his conduct in the dark. This was our first night out of port, and we were not thirty miles on our voyage. The ship was at anchor, her engines out of order, and dissatisfaction general among the passengers. The cabins were really splendid; but the rich carpets and gaudy mirrors, ample saloons and convenient state-rooms, did not make the machinery whole. We were about to cross the Atlantic, and our engines were already impaired. The captain made the best apology he was capable of at the tea-table ; but that did not repair the break; and although it was Saturday night, and a glo- rious moon shone calmly down upon the placid waters and motion- less ship, not one of the passengers was content with his prospects. Speculation was busy as to the future; the probabilities of further accident were discussed; stories of sinking ships repeated; and one by one we stole to our berths with the hope of better prospects on the morrow. The night passed away, day dawned, the steam was gotten up, the anchor hove to the merry and cheerful tones of "Billy Bown's a jolly sailor! Who stole the ham?'' 16 THE FOOTPATH AND niGnW AY ; and, as the iron arms of the powerful mass relaxed their hold on the muddy depths of the Delaware, the impatient ship dashed proudly on her way, as if glad to be once more at liberty. The morning was serene, calm, celestial. The soft breeze from the south was laden with dews and the breath of flowers, and a more magnificent morn never ushered in the Sabbath. Earth and water, air and light, all seemed to be glorifying the great Creator, and the little birds sang, like the stars of old, praise to Him who feigns forever. Every heart was elated; the boders of evil disappeared; hope took the place of dissatisfaction ; and as the vessel left one well-known point after another far astern, and the day advanced, we began to realize the fact that we were really departing. There were seve- ral clergymen on' board, and as the passengers numbered nearly seventy, the captain proposed religious service, which received the assent of all, and at the sound of the ship's bell we repaired to the saloon, and listened to a sermon by a minister from Erie, Pa. The vessel made rapid progress after leaving her anchorage, and was soon oflF Cape Henlopen, where she was " lain to," for the purpose of discharging her pilot. lie took his departure, carrying with him a large number of letters from the passengers to friends at home. As soon as he was cleverly clear of the ship, she was put upon her course, the captain assuming, for the first time, the command. The engines worked well, and the sails being hoisted immediately, we ran to sea finely, with a fair breeze and prosperous weather. At three in the afternoon, every vestige of the land was gone. I watched the receding line of beach until it faded from the sight into the vast body of waters around, and felt as if Hope and Regret, like two sisters, hud parted at my side — the one to cheer me on the long journey in prospect before me ; the other to dwell with those near and dear to me at home. Every mile we sailed seaward separated us the farther from our friends, and the waters of the ocean grew greener and greener as the distance increased, until they finally assumed a deep, dingy, grcenish-bluc color, by no means brilliant to view. The sun set tomewhat obscurely, and the moon and stars shone brightly over Bhe restless and tireless waves. The wind veered to the east and north, blowing directly against us, and greatly impeding our OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AxMERICAN. 17 progress. The sails were all furled, and, in nautical phrase, every- thing made snug for the night. We were now fairly at sea. The sky bent above us, like the counterpart of the ocean beneath, and the waves began to cause a motion in our ship by no means agreeable to some of our pas- sengers. Neptune, inexorable tyrant, became exacting, and lands- men began to grow serious and uneasy, and many of them retired at an early hour, not because they were sea-sick, but because weariness had overtaken them. The first few days out are usually the most disagreeable of a voyage, and the passengers are not generally blest with good ap- petites. Our breakfast-table, on the morning of the second day, was but indifferently attended, and those who did pay their re- spects to it were not well. Headaches were prevalent, and the motion of the ship was unpleasant; but no one complained of sea- sickness — all believed they would escape that malady — and the ladies were not even disposed to acknowledge that they were suffering from it, although their appearance sufficiently proved they were. But few persons take much interest in the details of an Atlantic voyage unless some remarkable occurrences are recorded ; and, as nothing transpired worthy of remark until our fourth day out, it will be useless to bore the reader with descriptions of life on board. We occasionally saw a '^ school" of porpoises, a flock of petrels, or a fleet of the little mollusque, which sailors call ^^ Por- tuguese men-o'-war !" A fog, so thick that it was impossible to see twenty yards from the ship, covered the ocean at one time for twenty-four hours. A sharp look-out was kept to prevent acci- dent, and the bell tolled at regular intervals, to give the alarm to vessels in our vicinity. There was an old tar on board who had been at sea forty-seven years, with but little intermission, and he usually performed the part of sentinel when it was his watch on deck. The sailors favored him, and never allowed him to go aloft if they could prevent it. He wore a thick coat when on duty in the fog, into the pockets of which he thrust his arras quite to the elbows, and stood, like old Neptune himself, gazing into the sea ; his bright eye peering into the mist, with a pleasant 2* 18 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; twinkle in it that lit up his ocean-tanned visage with the rajs of cheerfulness and content. ^' How long have you been going to sea, ray gay young fel- low ?" said I to him, as he was looking thoughtlessly right into the dull mist by which we were surrounded. • " Since I was thirteen/' he replied, touching his hat with a pleasant smile, " and I never was so dry in the forty-seven years I've been a sailor as I am now, sir V " Good !" exclaimed a passenger at my side ; " give the old chap some brandy; he deserves it for that;" and he did get a bottle of the best in the ship ; and he and I became the warmest of friends. The vessel, up to this period, made very fair progress, and we had almost forgotten the accident that occurred to her ma- chinery while in the Delaware, when a heavy jarring was heard in the engine-room, and the ship shook through all her timbers. Crash followed crash in quick succession, and the noise was fright- ful in the extreme. The passengers were dismayed, and every one eager to learn the particulars of the accident, for something of a serious character had evidently befallen our engines. The nature of the break was made known to us by the captain, and we were assured that it was a mere trifle, and would be repaired soon. The ship was put under canvass, and as the winds were ahead we advanced slowly, the vessel rolling heavily on the waters. A cold, gloomy sky spread over us, and the ocean became greatly agitated. The day went down without a smile ; the only ray visible was a gray streak along the western horizon, which added a more dismal appearance, if possible, to the sullen and chafed waters. Darkness gathered fast, and, as it increased, and the western gleam faded slowly out, the expanse of heaving sea, with naught visible but our lonely and crippled ship, rendered the scene at once grand, awful, and desolate. The accident was remedied about sundown, and the vessel put under steam, but the engine did not perform to the satisfaction of any, and broke again with a frightful noise early in the evening. This time the break was serious, and the officers no longer at- tempted to screen from the passengers the actual condition of OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 19 the ship. The rock-shaft of the air-pump, a very important part of our machinery, had snapt asunder, and as there was no other on board to replace it, we were in a very unpleasant situa- tion. The night was stormy, the condition of the vessel dis- heartening, and the passengers were mostly restless and anxious. They collected in little groups in various parts of the saloons, where they conversed about their prospects. Complaint was loud, and the countenance of each was serious in expression. Not a single individual had confidence in the machinery, and many con- jectures were ventured as to our fate. Sleep fled the lids of the faint-hearted, and not many of the courageous sought the drowsy god. The night advanced, and each silently retired to his state- room, prepared, however, for making his appearance on deck in the dark, should his presence be required there. During, the night, the captain held a consultation with his officers as to the best course to be pursued, and the decision was to continue the voyage. The engines were started occasionally, but they made a fearful noise, and the jarring shook the ship from keel to truck. They had been changed from the low to the high-pressure principle, in the hope that they could be made to perform during the remainder of the passage ; but it was found that there was a serious waste of steam, in consequence of which the force of the machinery was not sufficient to recover the eccentric at each stroke of the piston, and when such was the case the propeller would make a reverse movement, and a crashing noise would follow that was really frightful. In addition to this, we had head-winds to contend against, and a moderately rough sea, two things by no means calculated to elevate our hopes under the circumstances. At the breakfast-table, on the following morning, the captain made known his determination to continue the voyage, and as- sured us that, although the engines had failed, he had every con- fidence in the ship, and was sure that he would accomplish the passage without the aid of steam in a reasonable time, or in four or five days more than at first supposed. He said that a proposi- tion had been under consideration to run the vessel to Halifax for repairs; but as that port was full six hundred miles from where 20 THE FOOTPATH AND nionwAYj we then were, it was abandoned, and the voyage continued. The jarring of the machinery he regarded as trifling, and of no injury to the ship, as it neither caused her to leak nor strained her tim- bers. As an evidence of his confidence in the strength and sailing qualities of the ''Lafayette," and the certainty of reaching port, he stated that he had with him three pledges for whose welfare he would risk everything he had, and they were a daughter and two of her friends, then at his side. If he really thought there was danger, he would at once return ; but he did not anticipate any further misfortune than delay. This declaration was received with pretty general applause by the passengers, although there were some who were still doubtful of the ship, and anxious to be on shore. The day wore away dull enough : the passengers tried to con- tent themselves ; but, with some, it was impossible. There was nothing talked about but our situation and the indifferent machin- ery of the ship. Toward evening the winds increased, and a land-sparrow, that had taken refuge with us shortly after we lost sight of land, was blown overboard. The little trembler had grown weak for want of food, and must have starved in a few days had he not fallen into the sea. He was quite a pet with passengers, but so shy as to keep entirely out of reach. His loss was something to talk about aside from our misfortune. From this time forward our machinery was constantly out of repair. The engines were started at times when the winds were favorable, but they never continued to perform long. The waste of steam was great, and the jarring of the machinery frequent and alarming ; at night particularly so. It was not an unusual cir- cumstance for some of the passengers to remain up all night, be- cause of the groaning and crashing of the engines, and often did we wish the whole propelling power of the vessel deep in the sea. Fortunately, the weather was favorable, and the ocean calm. For several days we were blest with winds from the right quarter: the passengers grew cheerful, and, td add to our enjoyment, the engines were purpo.sely stopped, and the jarring, which so much annoyed us, entirely suspended. Our time was passed in a man- ner most ogrceablo to ourselves : some reading, some playing OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 21 drafts, some performing on musical instruments. The favorite amusement on deck was promenading, and as we had a clear, un- obstructed space of full two hundred and fifty feet, there was ample room for exercise. Our passengers were a goodly company in all, and generally sociable and disposed to make themselves content. The monotony of the voyage was broken at times by the ap- pearance of a sail. On some days there were as many as five seen, while on others none came to view. In the absence of something to afi'ord amusement on deck, I was wont to hang over the ship's bows, watching the waves for hours as they broke in foam and roared against the vessel's side. Off soundings, the waters, which in shallower places are a deep green color, are of a bright transparent blue in the sunlight, and when they dash in spray against the ship, they look like an azure scarf, trimmed with snowy lace, fluttering in the wind. Calms are wearying to the passenger, and productive of much uneasiness. No person, to look at the ocean then, would suppose that the unruffled expanse of water, with its long, dull, sweeping undulations, could be so aroused as to make a plaything of the stoutest ship. Its appearance to me, at such times, has that of a vast rolling prairie, whose rich grass was waving in the breeze of summer. One evening of quiet, the scene presented was beau- tiful in the extreme. The wide, wide ocean was calm save the soft undulation on its surface : the sun sunk slowly down below the horizon, and flung his gorgeous beams, mellowed and blend- ing, along the waters and the sky. The bright rays tinged the peaks of the waves, fell in a flood of glory on sea and ship, bathed ocean and sky in their golden beams like a blush of joy from the great Creator, and then melted away into softened tints, which faded slowly out, each one growing fainter and fainter, and har- moniously blending as night obscured the hues, until darkness gathered on the face of the deep and silence nestled over the waters. The incidents of the voyage worth recording were few, but we amused ourselves as best we could, and as each felt inclined. Dancing was practised by moonlight on deck, an old German gen- 22 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; tleman, from Baltimore, plaj^ing the flute, while the young ladies and beaux gayly moved to the notes of his mellow-toned instru- ment. Several evenings, after sunset, the captain mustered all the males on deck, and drilled us in true militia style. No raw recruits, in the States or elsewhere, ever presented a more laugh- able appearance than ourselves, and I venture to say, none ever afforded more innocent amusement, or were more benefited by the exercise of drilling. We were marched up and down decks, and put through every conceivable manoeuvre, the most agreeable of which was being conducted into the cabin to enjoy and discuss the merits of a tub of excellent punch, prepared by the steward, at the captain's expense, for our especial happiness. Speeches were usually a part of the evening's entertainment, and songs and toasts added to our gratification. The last of these social gather- ings was gotten up by the passengers in honor of the captain, on which occasion one of the company presented the skipper with a huge luooden sword, as a token of our appreciation of his services as commander-in-chief of the Lafayette Guards. It was sport, if nothing else; and while we were so engaged, we were not thinking of our broken engines. Many trifling things occur at sea that are never alluded to by a voyager, or but casually glanced at if mentioned at all. Speak- ing a vessel is a frequent event, and there is something grand in the sight of a noble ship approaching to hail. Early one Sunday evening, when the air was all calm, all serene, one of our passen- gers, who was blest with good eyes, discovered, in the distance, a faint line of smoke. "There's a steamer," said hej ** an Eng- lishman bound to the West Indies, by the course she's steering." We looked in the direction designated, but our optics were powerless to discover the reported vessel. The passenger, how- ever, insisted that he was right : glasses were brought into requi- sition, every eye was turned to the point, we all waited anxiously for the mate's report, and were soon relieved of our suspense. He slowly dropped his telescope, and, as he did it, a bright smile stole softly over his manly countenance, and he uttered a confirma- tion of our fellow-voyager's assertion. *< She's bearing down upon us." OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 28 ^'Can you^ake her out, Mr. H.?'' inquired the captain, bluntly. "A large steamer, sir, with side wheels, and I think an American." The reply was received with a slight acknowledgment, and the commander's glass was at once put into requisition. As he low- ered it, an order was given to the steersman, and our ship put one or two points off her course to meet the stranger. She was evi- dently approaching, and that rapidly, for it was not long before we could see her distinctly. On she came — on — on — and as she gradually neared us, her hull and form hove in sight. All the glasses on board were brought into requisition. To those who were lucky enough to have one, many a question was directed, and all were anxious to get a look at the stranger. The ships neared rapidly now, and our second mate, a methodical, quiet, determined fellow, told us that the vessel approaching was the American steamship Wash- ington, of the New York and Bremen line. He had been an officer in her once, and knew her long before we had an opportu- nity to hail her. On she came, nearer and nearer, and, as she approached us, larger and larger grew her form until she appeared like a huge monster of the deep, crushing the waves as haughtily beneath her tread as a proud lion would the waving grass. Her decks were crowded with human beings, and the foam roared and hissed beneath her bows. Our steam was shut off, and we quietly waited until she was abreast our ship, when the captain stepped upon the rail, told our condition, and asked to be reported. The Washington offered assistance, but, as we required nothing that he could furnish, it was declined. As soon as the conversation was ended, we gave three hearty cheers, which were responded to by those on board the stranger. Another and another followed, and each vessel went on her way. The Washington rapidly left us, and when we went on deck after tea she was hull down, far astern of us, and at dusk had disappeared. Some of our passengers had prepared letters for the purpose of throwing them on board, but the dis- tance between the two ships was too great, and closer proximity 24 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; would have been dangerous, however much it m^ht have been desired. Our passengers were of many countries and dispositions. There were real gentlemen, and those who never can be such: and true, upright men in rough clothing ; and exquisite and pul- ing fops in broadcloth — a compound at once varied and strange. I had for room-mate a native of South Carolina, then hailing from Mississippi, and a finer specimen of the Southron seldom comes under one's notice. A planter of the South, he possessed all the good qualities of his race, with but few, if any, of their objection- able ones, and was in every respect a polished gentleman. Next to him, in my estimation, was a naturalized citizen of the United States, returning to England on a visit to his mother, after an absence of thirty-six years. There was an old German on board, who had crossed the Atlantic twelve times ; a Frenchman of easy, graceful manners, who was then on his sixth voyage over the deep. He sang well, and at our social gatherings, after evening parade, amused us with the Marseillaise hymn in his native tongue. There were other Europeans who were returning^ home on visits to friends, and a number of Americans on their way to the Great Exhibition. There was with us a young Kentuckian, who de- serves particular mention. He was about five feet four inches high, nearly as broad as he was long, had light hair and mous- tache to correspond, and was truly an original character. Ho played cards and sleight-o'-hand tricks, spoke French, and gallanted the ladies about the decks, drank brandy and smoked cigars, chewed tobacco and sat up the greater part of the night gaming, and, to crown his accomplishments, managed to keep everybody in complete ignorance of who and what he was; and yet, for all, ho was one of the best-natured and most sociable fellows in the world. Early rising is not often indulged in by passengers at sea, and but few who cross the Atlantic behold the sun emerge from his watery bed. I arose one morning at half past three o'clock for the purpose of seeing him rise in his glory, and I shall never re- gret breaking my sleep for such a splendid view as the burning orb presented to my gaze. First, there was a pale yellow light, which tipped the edges of the dancing waves with hues of gold, OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 25 and tlien a rim of fire, intensely bright, pierced the watery horizon. For an instant it was motionless, then it grew larger, and the vast globe of flame ascended resplendently up the morning sky, its piercing rays chasing the mists before them over the burning deep. It was a glorious scene : the waves were like liquid fire dancing in the sunlight, and the flying mists were rushing like frighted spirits over the waters : the sky was brilliant with crimson, sap- phire, purple, and gold, and it seemed to me as if water and cloud, sea and sky, were singing a morning hymn to the Deity. Such a scene will repay a man for the anguish produced by sea-sickness, and that amounts almost to agony. On our twentieth day out, we found ourselves off the coast of Ireland. We were all on the look-out for land. Sails were fre- quent, and the less venturous sea-birds numerous. Our captain announced his determination to run into Cork for coals, provided we could get a pilot. We were not long without one. A coarse- looking, sloop-rigged craft, in appearance like a dull sailing, dirty fishing-boat, hove in sight on our port-bow, and bore down for us. She was a sorry-looking affair compared with the beautiful fairy little cruiser of our Cape Henlopen pilot. As she approached us, we could make her out distinctly ; but I am sorry to say that she did not improve on inspection. She was a beggarly, begrimed tub, filled with a crew of Corkonians — and they were unmistakable. One " jontleman'' hailed us : we lay to — he lowered a cockle-shell of a boat — two or three of his men tumbled over him into it — the oars were plied lustily, and the first representative of her majesty's subjects that it was my lot to see fairly on the European side of the Atlantic came on board our ship. He was ^' Ould Irelan" complete, even to the pipe, and as exacting as possible. The pilot was called into the captain's cabin for business purposes, while we scrutinized his heauU'fid craft — a thing that looked to me as if she might have been the tender to Tom Hood's phantom ship, the Mary Ann, of Shields : — Her mast was black, her decks were black, And so her hull and rails ; Her shrouds were black, her flag was black, And so were all her sails. 26 TIIE FOOTPATH AND DIGUWAY ; She evidently wanted scrubbing "aloft and alow," and her crew were quite as much in want of a treat to soap and cold water as any of the race I ever saw before. We soon resumed our course, the pilot directing it, and keeping the ship towards the land. The miles grew fewer between us and it, and before mid-day the cry that has cheered many a despairing soul rang through our ship — Land ! land, ho ! and every eye was turned to catch a glimpse of Pisgah's top — a faint line which appeared a dull leaden cloud resting on the horizon, but gave to the uninitiated eye no indications of solid earth until we approached to within a few miles. As the distance diminished, it became distinct, and the bold rocky shores arose, towering over the sea. We soon could trace the roads, the hedges, the stone walls, the thatched huts ; and then we saw men and women moving to and fro in the fields, at the labor of the farm. There was the Emerald Isle, or a portion of it; and treeless it was, too. Kinsale Head was passed, and then other points followed, and our ship soon gained the entrance to the famous Cove of Cork. As we ap- proached, there was evident curiosity among the people on shore as to our craft and her errand. Numbers of small boats came out to meet us, and cheers and shouts went up on all sides. We were hurried on past forts Camden and Caroline, two frowning defences, one on either side the strait. They ran up their flags as a salute; and as all things were in readiness with us, guns loaded and primed, ensigns rove and men at their post, an order was passed to the crew to stand by their colors ; and at the sound of the bell our carronadcs were fired, and the " starry banner" and the blood-red flag of St. George floated from our mast's head. The hills echoed and re-echoed the report of our guns, until the sound came back to us for the twentieth time, and the hollow booming roused like magic the entire population of Quecnstown. As soon as we were cleverly into the harbor, our vision was greeted by some splendid scenery. There lay the town, directly in front, with its beautiful villas and white houses rising in terraces on the hill-side, until thoy crowned the top. The noble sheet of water stretched out for several miles to the right and left, while Spike OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 27 Island, with its barracks and formidable fortresses, reposed like a sleeping war-dog near by. We were all excitement and admiration ; the town was full of bustle and curiosity about the stranger, boats full of the natives were around us, and ^' Huzzaa for America F' welcomed us as we moved on. "VYe soon gained a favorable point; an order was passed to the men we all could hear, as it was clear and intelligible, ^' Let go that anchor I" " Ay, ay, sir V was the response ; and the huge cable began to grate and ring as the heavy mass slipped into the sea. The hoarse roar of the ponderous chain soon ceased — our ship swung slowly round with the tide, and lay like a tired giant at rest upon the placid waters. CHAPTER II. SOMETHING ABOUT IRELAND. Our visit to Ireland was unexpected and of short duration, but sufficiently long to give us a fair opportunity of seeing how the lower class of Irish live. We landed at Queenstown on Friday afternoon, May 30th, 1851, where we were immediately sur- rounded by a throng of beggars, at once the lowest and meanest I ever saw. They followed us, pleading for pence, and hung to us like wax. There was no shaking them oil, unless you put them aside by force, or gave them into the charge of a police officer. In addition to their half-starved appearance, they were barefooted, and not one in every ten had sufficient clothing to hide his naked- ness. No drunken Indian ever presented a more revolting spec- tacle than did these beggars of Queenstown. They were filthy, and covered with vermin -, so much so, indeed, as to make me shudder to think of them for days after, and cause my flesh to creep with the idea that I had unfortunately come into too close contact with them, and gotten a share of the wandering tribes that 28 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; roamed unmolested over their skin. This, fortunately, was not the case; but I could not divest my mind of the idea, until a thorough bathing and cleansing relieved me of the dust and atmosphere of the town. Old and young — men and women — naked and clothed — they gathered around us in a regular mob, and begged with as much earnestness as a lawyer pleads a cause. There was no means of getting them away but by violence, or flying for refuge into an open door, and it was doubtful whether you would succeed then. We drove the mendicant throng oiF as well as we could, and managed to shelter ourselves in a hotel. Here, while partaking of refreshments, we were welcomed, on behalf of some gentle- men present, in a neat and appropriate speech by one of the com- pany. He spoke in a slow, distinct manner, selecting his words with great care, and took occasion to say many flattering things of the United States. The incident was happy, and, to us, agreeable, as it was unexpected. Each Irishman here was a gentleman, and each educated and refined, genteel in dress and manners, and possessing most excellent social qualities. They were in every sense polished and friendly, and gave us abundant proof of their sincerity and hospitality. I do not believe that a more appropriate reception of strangers could be gotten up than the one so unexpectedly tendered our company, or that a more gentlemanly set of men could be found than the Irishmen of whom I speak. They were candid, bland, sociable, and refined; and their conduct made a lasting impression on our minds. One of the passengers returned thanks for the reception given us, and we joined in three hearty, enthusiastic cheers for old Ireland, and separated, each and every one highly delighted with the true Irish gentleman, and with a more favorable opinion of the inhabit- ants of Queenstown than wc thought it pos.siblo for us ever to entertain at the time of our landing. In an hour we had the two extremes of Irish social distinctions set before us, and were glad to find so much that is really noble in a place wliore at first we thought there was nothing but ignorance, sloth, mendicity, im- morality, and suffering. Queenstown is romantically located, and presents an attractive OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 29 appearance to the stranger. The houses are built on streets which rise like terraces one above the other, until they crown the hills which overlook the spacious Cove of Cork. Some of the residences of the gentry are really splendid, and in them is to be found all that a man can desire to make him happy. All along the river Lee, a beautiful little stream which runs into the Cove, and on which the city of Cork stands, there are many handsome mansions and a great deal of fine scenery. Trees are scarce, except in the parks, but the land is cultivated down to the river's brink, and that in the highest state. At one point along the stream we noticed a large building, with two high tow- ers, rising like sentinels up to heaven, and, on inquiring, learned that it was a memorial to Father Matthew, erected by a tailor of Cork in commemoration of the services of that distinguished man. A number of pretty little cottages peeped out from ivy and flowers as we passed, and the ruins of an old building, hung over with ivy, reminded us that we were in one of the lands of Eld. The dwellings of the poor, when seen and compared with those of the wealthy, were the merest hovels imaginable. At a distance, the shores and villages looked inviting; but no sooner was foot set upon the soil than wretchedness and misery met us at almost every turn. Cork has ever been famous on both sides of the Atlantic for the beauty of its harbor and the hospitality of its inhabitants; but no traveller has yet given the world a correct picture of the degradation and wretchedness of its pauper population. On our side of the ocean, we occasionally hear vague accounts of the' condition of the peasantry in the south of Ireland ; and at one period, when a desolating famine prevailed in that portion of the island, a ship was freighted and sent from our shores with succor to the famished and dying. This exhibition of a nation's be- nevolence and charity is remembered by the inhabitants of Cork and the adjacent country with the liveliest feelings of gratitude, and no American visits that city, at present, without receiving a cordial and affectionate welcome from the upper classes of society. The wealthy portion of the community praise our philanthropy, while the poor heap benedictions and prayers upon our heads. We are regarded by them as a favored and prosperous people; 3* 30 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; but, alas for poor degraded Ireland, the American who visits her shores must shudder at her wretchedness, and mourn over her almost hopeless misery. At Cork, the beggars were far worse than they were at Queens- town, and their perseverance and energy were worthy of a better cause than the one in which they were employed. Men, women, and children waylaid us in such numbers as to completely ob- struct our passage, and we were scarcely able to drive them oflf. The women were the most shameless of slatterns, and made open propositions, of the most revolting character, without a blush. How the respectable portion of the inhabitants content them- selves to live in such a community is a mystery ; and the only way to account for it is by supposing that they are so accustomed to beggars and harlots that they regard them as a necessary evil, not worth removing from their town. The men were but little better than the women in point of morality. Their unblushing impudence knew no check; and they were as far below the beg- gars of Queenstown as I thought the latter below the drunken savage. The women would take a man by the arm and insist upon his company, and when they found it impossible to induce him to comply, they would commence with a shower of obscenity so horrible and profanely vile, as to make one think them dwellers of Pandaemonium let loose, for a while, to pollute and slime the earth. Our company divided; some lodging at the Victoria, others at *the Imperial, the two largest hotels of the city. I arose at an early hour the following morning, and took a stroll about the place. Although the sun was high, there were no shops open, but few people in the street, and scarcely a beggar visible — a most remarkable circumstance to mo, when I recalled to mind the crowds of the previous night. The thoroughfares were comparatively deserted, and the few persons who were abroad were of the la- boring class. The houses of Cork are generally well built, par- ticularly those in the fa.«hionablc and business portions. When I speak of houses, I make no reference, of course, to the hovels of the beggars; my remarks apply only to the dwellings and stores of the aflluent and favorably circumstanced. The homes OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 31 of the mendicant population of Cork are dens of wretclicdness, unfit for human habitations. By eight o'clock the streets began to present some activity, and when we returned to them after our morning meal they were alive with ragged beggars. It was a mystery where they came from. Every stone must have concealed one, as did the bracken the warriors of Roderick Dhu, until the time arrived for them to reveal themselves. They were countless, hungry, importunate, impudent, servile, cringing, and eminently persevering in asking alms. Not one of them had breakfasted, according to his own account; and "be plased, yer honor, to give me a ha'penny to get somethin' to ate," was the sum total of their petition. When a few coppers were thrown them, they gathered them up with eagerness, elbowing and thumping each other gloriously to get at the money ; nor were the successful ones satisfied with their gains, but became more importunate than they were at first. Flattery and persuasion — appeals and threats — were alike used for the purpose of obtaining alms, and the news of our liberality spread like wildfire, if I may judge from the number of raga- muffins that came thronging round us. I thought all the rags in creation were on the backs of our energetic, screeching, screaming besiegers; and they were of all ages, from the octo- genarian to the puling infiint in its mother's arms. The race was evidently productive, and there is but little doubt of Ireland being able to produce her quota of men, whether starvation pre- vails or not. Poverty in Cork is favorable to reproduction, and the low Irish generate as rapidly as negroes in slavery. The crowd grew denser and denser ; Paddy became pugnacious, and a stray fist occasionally found its way into the face of a friend of its owner's just before it. "Be aisy, Pat Mulony;" "Kape yer elbows in yer pockets, Ted Murphy;" "Och, yer a fine Amerikin jointleman, sir! and ye'll throw me the sixpence ye hould in yer hand," and such like expressions and compliments, were numerous. We were literally beleaguered by the rabble, until the attention of the police was attracted to the mob, and that useful body made their appearance. The blue coats struck terror into Pat, and the cowardly band fled like criminals before 32 THE FOOTPATH AND nionwAT ; them. In a much less time than it takes rac to write the story, the whole mass vanished like a litter of young rabbits. Some, more daring than the rest, returned to the charge as soon as they thought the oflScers out of the way ; but they came cautiously — sneaking along as if expecting a blow from some unseen hand, and glancing occasionally to the right and left for a policeman, the sight of whom was sufficient to cause a precipitate and inglo- rious retreat. Our imprudence caused the guardians of the public peace some work. Paddy was too wide awake to let the ^^jointle- meii" who threw pennies about so liberally escape easily, and when we secured jaunting cars and set out on a trip to the coun- try, we had a train of honor, composed of Cork beggars, to escort us on our way, nor did we get rid of the pestering rascals readily. A few pence thrown to them, in hopes of being an in- ducement for them to discontinue their appeals, was encourage- ment for them to follow. They knew " the value of peace and quiet" too well to be satisfied with trifles, and ran after us for several miles. As we passed through the purlieus of the town, our retinue increased, and, I am sorry to say, the additions were far from desirable. Carroty-headed, uncombed females, old and young, joined our guard of honor, and FalstafF's ragged regiment was a princely set out, to our escort. We had no other way of relieving ourselves of the incubus than using the whip, and that cfTectcd our object. They skulked at once, and from flattery turned to abuse. "Yo mane, beastly Yankees, the likes of yon jointlemen !" " Sncugh ! yer a set o* sneakin' thavcs, and bad luck to ye all !" was the vote of thanks that followed us from the exacting knaves. We dashed boldly out into the country, and soon enjoyed the beauties of rural scenery. Our drive was about twelve miles, going and returning, full of interest to us and highly instructive. There were twelve in our company, four to each jaunting car, an open vehicle, with seats for that number in addition to the driver. The passengers sit facing the wheels, and have excellent opportu- nities for observation. It is an odd way of riding, but for all, agreeable. Our whip was a fair specimen of his race, talkative in the extreme, and well informed. The roads attracted our ad- 33 miration, and they certainly deserved it. They are so beautifully smooth, so evenly made, that all jolting is avoided, and you roll over them as softly as if on a floor. They are not lined with wood-fences as with us, but with substantially built stone walls, or hedges of sweet blossoming hawthorn, the odors from which impregnate the air like incense. The fields were highly cultivated, there being scarcely a spot untilled. Trees were rare, except in the parks, where we noticed many varieties, natives to the coun- try, besides exotics. The rural residences of the gentry on the route were beautiful places, there being no expense spared by the proprietors to make each an earthly paradise. Some of them were perched upon hills towering above trees and shrubbery, rich flowers, and clambering ivy; others were quietly nestled in secluded nooks, at a short distance from the highway, and only visible at openings in the groves, through which they peered, like shy young maidens who are curious to see, yet fear to be seen. They all wore an aristocratic air, and looked the very habitations of ease and afiluence. If they were a fair sample of all the rural abodes of Ireland, then we might reasonably expect to see a happy and contented people there ; but, unfortunately, they are not. I was anxious to learn something of the peasantry, and to see their dwellings, and observe their mode of living. There were abundant opportunities for observation, and, jumping from the car, I soon had a chance to gratify my curiosity. I entered one of the hedge-cottages, on the plea of getting a drink of water, and never did I dream that human beings could be so degraded and sunken in poverty and wretchedness as were the occupants of that sty. Their condition was brutal beyond conjecture, and the place was such as we in the United States would not put a worth- less cur into. There were but the four bare walls, a thatched roof, with a hole in it, as an apology for a chimney ; a ground floor, no windows, and not a single article one could con- scientiously call furniture. In one corner sat an old woman, picking vermin from the person of a little girl, and apparently well pleased with her occupation. There were no bed, no stove, and no cooking utensils of any consequence in the place; no chairs, a single table, which would barely hold together, and a 34 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; pack of filthy rags on the floor for beddiDg. The only means of light was the door, and that was so low as scarcely to admit a person in an upright position. In this miserable hovel there were niiie hitman heimjSj all women and children, not one of whom had sufficient covering to hide her nakedness, or even give to the beholder the idea that she was clad. They were barefooted and bareheaded. Neither of them owned a bonnet, and shoes were what they never had. On inquiry of the woman, who answered my questions, I was told that her husband was a farm -laborer, and earned about five shillings per week, out of which sum he paid tenpence rent for the hut above described, and supported a family of twelve persons. What their food was, can be surmised from the sum devoted to its purchase ; and as provisions are dearer in Ireland than in the United States, there is reason to suppose that oatmeal and potatoes comprised the assortment. So the woman said, and she probably told the truth. What else could be obtained for the sum that would suffice for twelve persons ? The other cottages at which I stopped were, with trifling ex- ceptions, similar to the one mentioned, and the occupants were soulless, cringing, listless wretches, but little above brutes, and not so intelligent as some dumb animals. We met several labor- ers at work on the roads, who told us their wages varied from sixpence to one shilling per day; out of which sum they are obliged to pay rent, and find food for their families. Our destination was IJlarney Castle, the name of which is famous the world over. Wo arrived at the lodge-gate early in the day, and, leaving our conveyances there, walked up to the old ruins. The hawthorn hedges sent up their delicious perfume, and thousands of flowers around added their odors to the incense from the new-mown hay. We found the castle much decayed, and overhung with a net of ivy. The walls are worn and broken in places, but still tower to the height of one hundred feet. We ascended by a spiral stone stairway to the top, from which wo had a splendid view of the valley bolow — of waving cornfields, extensive parks, numerous cottages, and large dwellings. Here wo mot several of our fellow-pa.ssengers, among whom were three OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 35 young ladies, all of whom were delighted with the scenery and ruins. The thick walls, dark cells, secret passages, and deserted halls were new to us, and we were reminded by them that we were in a historic land. Among the curiosities, we were shown the world-renowned " Blarney Stone," which is placed on the top of one of the walls of the building, from whence it derives its name. Visitors usually touch it, and the wear it receives from the constant laying on of hands keeps it highly polished. The castle is said to be seven hundred and thirty years old, and was for a long period the residence of a distinguished Irish nobleman, or petty monarch, O'Something — I don't remember what — whose race and history have alike perished, leaving no other memorial than the walls of Blarney, and the legends connected with them. The estate contains about eighteen hundred acres, nearly all of which is under cultivation. Five hundred men are constantly employed upon it, at fair wages for Ireland ; and they generally appear content with their lot. There are full as many cattle as men on the estate, and, from my own observations, they are bet- ter sheltered in stormy weather than the peasantry, and far better cared for. The stables in which they are kept are infinitely su- perior to the hedge cottages. The attendants were exceedingly polite, and numerous. There was one to bow us through the delicious groves of Blarney, an- other to guide us through the castle, one to show us the stables, and one to accompany us back to the gate. A very attentive and obliging people they were, and their plan of subdividing labor was remarkable. But cannot one do all ? thought I, and the answer came readily: "That won't do; each one of these has his post, and each expects, ay, demands, pay for thrusting himself into your service, and will get it. If there were but one, he would get a sixpence from each; but as there are four, each gets his fee, and you are the suficrer — they the gainers." And my reasoning was correct. " Be plased to remimber me, zur ! I took ye till the castle," was the appeal of one, and the same came from the balance, with suitable modifications. We each paid eigh teen-pence at the ruins, and thought we were released; but no, by no means. The coarse, vulgar slattern at the lodge 36 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; had a claim ^^for standin' by the gate till yer honors returned;" but it was not allowed, and we received her pious benediction. Coaxing and flattery were tried at first, but they failed ; and then she abused, as only the low and beastly can abuse. The word ''Yankee" was frequent in the torrent of slime she bespattered us with, and the " likes o' ye jointlemen I" was the last expres- sion of hers that reached our ears. We rolled away towards Cork, over a splendid road, difierent from the one by which we left the city. The weather was warm, the atmosphere quivered with heat; but still the air was not very oppressive. The rapid motion of our car created a current, and kept us cool. The peasantry we met were a degraded race, and nearly all barefooted, and without energy, except to beg ; and it surprised me that some of them mustered courage for that, when I considered their laziness. Two or three of the boys ran after our conveyances full five miles in expectation of securing a penny, and, poor wretches, they earned it. The scenery by the return route was really beautiful. At one point of the turnpike, where there was a sudden turn, a splendid valley burst unexpectedly on our view, like a fairy scene. Around it arose an amphitheatre of hills, and through it meandered a gurgling stream, on whose banks waved the rich verdure of the Emerald Isle. An old castle, ivy-covered, crowned an eminence, and in the far distance peered up the spires of the city. ]3ut few farm-houses, worthy of the name, met our sight. We saw one or two that had a neut appearance, as if they were the abodes of comfort; but they were all. The cottages, or huts, were numerous, and in some instances so small as to be scarcely seen, or distinguished from mud-banks. In the whole route, we saw but one solitary female with shoes on, among the peasantry, and she was a curiosity. The balance were barefooted and bare- headed; but, although the weather was quite warm, if either of them had an old cloak, no matter how ragged it was, she had it on. They looked worse than half-civilized Indians with us, by far, and were surely more degraded and brutalized. Their long, dark hair hung loosely over their shoulders, and their black eyes 37 and brown complexions brought to my mind the gypsies of which we hear so much and see so little. As we neared the city, we met throngs of poor on their way to witness a military review about to take place in honor of the Queen's birthday. It was probably a favorable time to observe the mendicant inhabitants of Cork, as on such occasions they generally turn out en masse. The number of beggars is beyond computation ; but, as the population of the place is nearly one hun- dred and twenty thousand^ it would not be far off the mark to set the alms-askers down at one-third that number, or forty thousand who are dependent mainly upon beggary for support in Cork only. To Americans who know nothing of the lower class of Irish in their native land, this may appear an exaggeration, but actual observation will confirm the statement. They are so numerous that it is impossible for a person to walk fifty yards in the city, during business hours, without meeting a score of them. The merchants and tradesmen are gentlemanly in their deport- ment, and take evident pleasure in showing kindness and hospi- tality to strangers ; but when spoken to concerning the laboring poor and mendicants, exhibit but little sympathy for that class, and try to avoid allusion to them, and assert that the wretched- ness and misery into which they have fallen are attributable to habits of indolence and crime. There appears to be a wall of adamant between the laborer and the respectable caste, and a hatred of each other as strong as ever existed between rival tribes of savages. The rich spurn and trample the poor, and the poor hate them in return for their pains. The review was not on an extensive scale, about four thousand troops only being out. Among them we noticed a regiment of pensioners, or soldiers who by long service had become entitled to a discharge from the army, with a small annual allowance. Their number was about eight hundred ; the most of them were Irish, and all appeared to be as fond of military display and showy uniforms as young recruits. A park of artillery bellowed forth its thunder furiously, and the rattle of small-arms, at one time, was continuous, giving the uninitiated a faint idea of the roar and turmoil of battle. Every regiment was attended by an 4 38 excellent band, and the music was to us the most attractive fea- ture of the display. What surprised us mo8t was the variety of uniforms, each regiment having a different dress, and only one of all wore the famous ^* red coats" so much despised by our patriotic forefathers. While viewing the parade, we entered into conversation with several of the assembled spectators, who knew where we were from. They spoke of the condition of Ireland, particularly of the South, and, pointing to the troops as they tiled off, their showy uniforms and glittering arms gleaming in the sun, said that "thousands of poor were starving around, and no aid fur- nished them by the government, while an army was sustained in their midst, at an enormous expense, to keep them in subjection. We have nearly eight thousand soldiers among us, in time of peace, whose sole duty is to keep us quiet, and hold us in »we." I thought the spectacle one worth a few remarks. Here was a standing army among an ignorant, brutalized, idle, and starving peasantry, maintained at an enormous expense to keep the race in submission, and not one penny expended to better its con- dition. The general appearance of the throng was similar to that of the laboring men we had seen in our morning's ride. Their clothing was rags, their conduct debased. One of the first objects that attracted my attention in Cork was a small donkey, harnessed to a cart about the size of a wheel- barrow, followed by a barefooted woman, who was busily engaged in gathering up the filth and offal that she found in the street. Afterwards I observed the same thing frequently, and noticed girls und men gathering the dung of animals, with their hands, from the hijihways. Some of the females were among the ugliest creatures alive, und with dirty faces, mopped hair, and ragged garments, looked like so many *' weird sisters." No one who has not seen the laboring poor and mendicant population of Ireland, on their own soil, can form a correct estimate of their wretched- ness, or the degradation into which they are sunk. Suffering is the badge of their tribe, and idleness and crime results of their conditii>n. Wc remained in the city until Saturday afternoon^ when our OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AxMERICAN. Sd passengers returned to the ship. Every arrangement having been completed, the anchor was hove up, and by sunset the Lafayette was once more laying her course for the port of her destination. Forts Caroline and Camden were passed, and before the long summer twilight had faded out, we were again upon the ocean, and out of sight of miserable, sunken^ and forlorn Ire- land. In the previous pages I have described what I saw in Ireland, and that in language suited to the subject. Some readers may condemn the tone, and deem it harsh ; but the case warranted it, and I have no apology to make. Human misery never delighted me. My sympathies are with the poor and the downtrodden of the human race, no matter where they dwell, or what their country or complexion. A mere description of the wretchedness and misery of the poverty-stricken and crushed, as given by an observer, is not an evidence of ill feeling towards them on his part ; nor must it be so considered. My sketch of the lower class of Irish, as I saw them, is correct, and I appeal to those who were with me for proof of the assertion. It is written to convey to American readers, as near as a pen and ink picture can, an idea of the actual condition of the Irish poor. We see much misery in the United States among the immigrants from the Eme- rald Isle; but we do not see Irish wretchedness in its worst form, and Heaven forbid we ever should ! That people have been the subject of remark for years; their condition has been commented upon, by friends and foes, each of whom assigns a reason fgr their degradation; but it must be confessed that few have sought to better their circumstances. Philanthropists have made attempts to alleviate their distress, but never succeeded to any great extent, for several reasons: one of which is that they have never yet laid the axe at the root of the evil. They merely apply the remedy to the surface, and fail to touch the seat of disease. Each set of philanthropists acts according to its views of the case, and as each views the Irish with a sectarian's eye, each effects nothing. I do not pretend to say that Catholicism either degrades or elevates the people of Ireland; but I do say that no reforms will ever be 40 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; effected among them by those who run counter to their religious notions. The best means of raising them from their present con- dition is education. Teach them to regard themselves as human beings, and create in them feelings of self-respect and manly inde- pendence, and more good will be effected among them than all the relief you can give them against physical want. But few of them at home possess a spark of manliness; but so soon as they reach countries where they are treated by the respectable and intelli- gent as human beings, so soon do they become different in every respect, and stand forth men. Much of their servility is attribu- table to the manner in which what they are pleased to call their superiors treat them; and so long as the educated and wealthy of Ireland continue to look upon their poor as little better than swine, and treat them like spiritless animals, only to be spurned, so long will their country be full of beggars and sunken humanity. They complain loudly at times of oppression on the part of the govern- ment, and poetically deplore the condition of their less fortunate countrymen ; but such expressions will not produce reform. They ghould act, and not bewail — educate, and not keep in ignorance ; and the change would soon be observed. The mendicant would become industrious, the peasant intelligent, and the people happy. IViestcraft would lose its hold, and rational religion take the place of bigotry and stultified adoration of forms and pageants. The Irish are susceptible of improvement; and all that is required to prove the fact is to try them. They arc not deficient in intellect, nor aptness for learning, and if they were properly educated, they would be equal to the best of the English peasantry, come from where they will. Philanthropists should establish schools, and Irish gentlemen should treat their poor fellow-countrymen as if they were men, not brutes — beings endowed with the same facul- ties as themselves ; and between the two cla.sses they would soon produce a reform in the degraded that would bo lasting and won- derful. Ages must elapse under the present state of things before the lower Irish can bo raised to a position of respectability, or oven decency. OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 41 CHAPTEE III. LIVERPOOL. With a calm sea, and pleasant breeze, our ship made rapid pro- gress during the night and following Sabbath, and by sundown of that day we discovered land immediately ahead, which was ascer- tained to be Bardsey Island, the western extremity of Whales. The ship was kept on her course during the night, but great care exer- cised in consequence of the danger of the navigation, and at an early hour on Monday morning an English pilot came on board. We ran up the channel and bay, passing the Isle of Anglesey, and the northern coast of Wales in full sight. The shores were not so precipitous as those of Ireland, nor were they so productive; but there were more houses, and the appearance of greater com- fort about the dwellings. We rapidly neared the port of Liver- pool, and passed Bell Buoy, a floating boat supporting a frame, on which is placed a large bell, so situated as to toll constantly by the action of the waves, and so powerful in tone as to be heard, in favorable winds, a distance of five miles. Black-rock light came into view next, and then the grim town, so famous the world over for its foreign trade and massive docks. By mid-day the ship was abreast of her haven of rest, announcing her arrival with her own guns. The tide was up, we ran along-side a dock at once, and our luggage was taken to the custom-house, where it was ex- amined by a gentlemanly set of oflScers in a few minutes; none of the passengers being annoyed in the least by unnecessary scrutiny or close searching. Those who cheerfully and willingly opened their trunks, and exhibited a desire to have their luggage ex- amined, were permitted to pass without the slightest detention ; while those who gave evasive answers were made to pay duty for such articles as were excisable. I was asked whether there was anything contraband in my trunks, and thipking it best to bo 42 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; honest, I candidly told the ofl&cer that there were some articles on which I believed there was duty, and gave him my keys to examine. He made a very slight search, and took some books and daguerreo- types out; but as the latter were presents, and the former American works, all were returned me without revenue being exacted. The ofl&cers were a gentlemanly, obliging, and friendly set of men, and were remarkably lenient to those who frankly told them what the contents of their trunks were ; but to those who tried to evade the customs, they were scrupulously exact. A clergyman of our company, when asked, stated that he had neither tobacco nor cigars; but as his teeth bore evidence that he used the weed, search was made, and a considerable quantity of the Virginia pro- duct found. He attempted an excuse, but it was too late; the officials were not disposed to be deceived, and confiscated his stock, with a gentle hint that he was fortunate to escape so easily, and an intimation that he had better cease from lying, as it would be more creditable to him as a follower of Christ. He was an Eng- lishman, and grew a little surly with her majesty's servants, in consequence of the rebuke, concluding that it was not their duty to lecture him, as well as deprive him of his tobacco. If he had been truthful, there would not have been a cigar lost to him ; but as it was, he justly lost all. I am aware that English custom- house officers are greatly condemned, but do not believe them always censurable. They are often sorely tried, and some persons practise great deception upon them, which makes them scrutiniae closely ; but where a person acts towards them in a gentlemanly way, he seldom finds them either exacting or very inquisitive. Ijivcrpool, with a population of nearly half a million inhabit- ants, with a foreign commerce greater than that of any other city except London, and a mercantile marine varied and strange, seldom or ever receives from the traveller more than a cold remark about her extensive docks, or a slight mention of the enormous draught- horses which bear her name. Why this is so, is remarkable, and can only be accounted for from the fact that those who embark there for foreign ports have mostly visited cities richer in ancient monuments and historical associations, and being on the eve of a long and perilous voyage, occupy their minds with speculations on OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 43 the future, instead of turning their attention to the attractions around them; while those who come from the American side of the Atlantic see a city overhung with an atmosphere of smoke, and take the earliest opportunity of getting away from it, and flying to the goal of their destination, London or Paris. Liverpool does not deserve such treatment from all, and to those who are fond of looking at the excitement and bustle of business, it has many attractions. Let the stranger take the arm of his companion, and slowly stroll along the streets adjacent to the docks, occasionally entering one, and he will find sufficient to amuse him for days. There he will see the representatives of almost every nation on earth, and a greater variety of the genus homo than in any other city, not excepting New Orleans. Throngs of h'ish immigrants, on their way to the land of their brightest hopes, America, meet him at every turn ; while Germans and French, Hollanders and Swedes, Spaniards and Italians, Jews and Gentiles cross him in his rambles and jostle him in the highways. Among the natives of the Isle of Great Britain he finds innumerable and nameless representatives from the Highlander, with his half savage dress, to the Welshman and Yorkshireman, with their broad and peculiar dialect. He sees hundreds of poor, bare- footed women, and thousands of well-clad merchants. Soldiers and sailors, policemen and beggars, strangers and sharpers, pass and repass him as he roams her avenues. All is excitement, hurry, and confusion. A smoky atmosphere and the heavy clouds which hang over the city give a dingy aspect to the walls and houses, but a day or two will make him more familiar with the place, and then he will see much to admire and much to con- demn. The docks are the first objects of interest, and the stranger will cheerfully award them their due. One of them is a picture of all, and there can be seen the productions of every section of the world known to commercial men since " the Celt knew the Indian.'' The American notices with pride (and a commendable pride it is), foremost among all, the products of his native land. Countless bales of the great staple of the South, thousands of barrels of pork from the Valley of the Mississippi, hills of Indian corn in sacks from every portion of the Union, large quantities of sugar and molasses, and cargoes of American timber, bear witeess to the extensive trade carried on between Liverpool and the Republic of the Western World ; while vessels from Egypt and Turkey, Arabia and China, the Brazils and llindostan, lie side by side in her docks, giving evidence of the peaceful tendencies of commerce. Large numbers of American liners, those beautiful productions of the skill of our ship-builders, find a haven in the secure and sub- stantial basins for which she stands pre-eminent. Small craft in abundance are there; and strongly built iron steamers, in fleets, ply from her quays to the seaports of the neighboring islands, the Mediterranean, and the far shores of the Atlantic. Every hour during the day there is an arrival from some foreign country, and not a day goes down without witnessing a score of departures for distant sections of the world. From her docks the blood-red flag of haughty Albion has been borne to every section of the navigable globe, and she has sent out commercial fleets which would put to the blush the proudest navies of the continental powers. And yet for all this the stranger finds nothing in Liver- pool worthy his time and attention ! The streets are mostly irregular, short, and, like John Bull in many things, awry. But some of them are handsome. Take for instance Lord Street, with its imposing buildings, its rows of shops, and its broad and well-paved way; Dale Street, Church Street, and Castle Street, all abound in large and beautiful edi- fices. The exchange, "where merchants most do congregate," is an attractive pile; and there is one of the best bronze allegorical groups that meets the eye of the artist in any section of tho globe. It is erected to the memory of Lord Nelson. The Cus- tom House and Sailor's Home are beautiful architectural cffort.s, and would bo considered lions in an American city. St. George's Hall is one of the largest and most harmonious buildings in its proportions in the kingdom. The railway stations arc splendid, and stand in broad contrast with the passenger depots of the rail- roads in tho United States. The hotels, although not so large or 80 fine as tho American, are good, and some of them are not de- void of external beauty. Tho inhabitants aro divided into two classes, rich and poor. OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 45 The rich are generally pompous, self-sufficient, proud, and over- bearing to those they regard as inferiors, and courteous and affable to their equals. The poor are a servile, crouching race to their employers, or masters, as they are called, and most ardently at- tached to the queen. Many of them are ignorant and degraded, and live but little better than paupers. There is almost as much licentiousness among a portion of the female poor as the stranger observes at Cork ; and to an American, such exhibitions as are witnessed in Liverpool are revolting. The laborers and mechanics of the city are numerous, and are generally dressed in a coarse, white cotton cloth, which, in a climate so cold, looks uncomfort- able. There is but little intelligence among them, and although the trade and communication between the United States and Liverpool is so extensive, the majority of the working classes have no correct geographical ideas of our country, and speak of New York as the whole of America. The most remarkable feature of Liverpool is the fact that there is not a single daily newspaper published in the city. With a population of nearly five hundred thousand, and a commerce so great as to reach every section of the world, this place cannot boast one daily paper ! while San Francisco, a city of but four years' growth, issues seven. The London Times, during the great Exhibition, sneered at the sorry appearance of the penny dailies then in the " glass palace ;" but the writer forgot the vast power wielded by those little sheets in the United States — a power which may some day be felt in England. The enormous dray-horses of the city are great curiosities to the American traveller, both as regards size and their wonderful powers. I have seen them full seven feet and a half high, and some even higher than that. Many of them are twice as large as a draught-horse with us, and they look like young elephants when moving along the street. The wagons to which they are attached are great clumsy platforms, supported by four ponderous wheels, the whole sufficiently heavy for two of our horses without the ad- dition of a load ; and, incredible as it may appear, it is not an unusual thing to see two of these animals drawing such a machine, with as many as thirty bales of cotton piled upon it. Their 46 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; movements are slow ; and it is more than likely that two of our small horses would do quite as much work in a day, drawing lighter loads, as two of the Liverpool horses perform, and at a much less cost. In contrast to the dray-horse stands the donkey — a numerous class in Liverpool. Many of them are not larger than a setter- dog, and you will see one drawing a cart three times as large as himself, with a great lubberly clown in addition to the ordinary load. They are the only draught animals not taxed, and on that account are used mostly by the poor ; in many instances being the sole support of an entire family. They are a miserable set of brutes, and the masters often look more brutal and iuhumau than the donkeys. There are many other things worthy of note in and about Liverpool, not the least striking of which are the windmills in the vicinity. The broad arms of these strange edifices are whirled around by the passing breeze, and as they cut and slash the air, bring to the traveller's mind the gallant exploits of Don Quixote and his doughty squire. But enough of the great seaport of Lancashire ! I leave its mud and filth, tall, ungainly warehouses, and motley throng, to be described by others, and turn once more to our ill-fated ship. I went down to her before leaving the town, and how chan*;ed ! The cargo had been discharged, the passengers were all gune, and the cabin, so lately the abode of a cheerful and social company of warm-hearted friends, was silent and deserted. Tho.sc who had crossed the great deep in that splendid saloon had separated, each to his destination, and probably never to meet again. But friend- ships were formed there bright and holy ; friendships that will be cherished until the last hour of existence; and though fate estrange the wanderers, time cannot efface from memory the pleasures en- joyed in each other's company, or the feelings of happiness which the recollections of the voyage recall to mind. Occasionally, since then, I have met with one of ray fellow- voyagers, and such meetings have always been seasons of un- feigned happiness. The old ship is generally a stibject of inquiry, aud^ as her fate may interest the reader^ I give it here. Uu her OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 47 return-voyage she ran down a brig, and sunk her — put into New York for repairs — sailed from thence to Chagres, where she caught fire, and was burned to the water's edge, and sank to rise no more. She was what the sailors call '' an unlucky craft," and her end was in character with her performances from the first — unfortunate ! CHAPTER IV. MANCHESTER AND ITS VICINITY. Tired of Liverpool, and anxious for a change of scenery, I left the dingy seaport " by rail/' and, after passing through the dark and gloomy tunnel which extends from Lime Street Station to Edgehill, emerged into the light of a perfect day and a clear atmosphere, beyond the limits of the famous town. It was de- lightful to behold once more the green fields and bright sky, and my eyes, for the first time, took in the glories of an English land- scape. Yes ! there it was, before me, the rural charm of our fatherland. But a single glance was allowed ; the train did not stop long at any one station, and I was obliged to be content with a gleam of the sweet prospect. Hedgerows lined the fields ; tall oaks reared their majestic forms to the skies; white cottages peeped out from ivy and clustered leaves ; and the landscape looked a very garden. The tall spires of the village churches, and the large mansions of the wealthy, came rapidly in sight, and then passed by, leaving upon my mind their impress, clear and inefi"aceable, for they were types of Old England, and spoke of the ancient day, and I gloried in beholding them. The train whirled us on, on, past hamlet and town, through tunnel and farm, over viaduct and moor ; but nearly the whole distance was pleasant to the view. The ground, at the sides of the rail, was under cultivation from the hedges and walls down to the very track ; and at the stations there were garden-patches, in which 48 THE FOOTPATH AND HIOnWAY J roses and other favorite flowers grew luxuriantly, and distilled upon the air their sweetness. And this, thought I, is England ; and this velvet-grass, and these broad fields, and those neat cot- tages and magnilicent parks, are the charms which draw the Ame- rican across the angry waters, that he may feast his eyes on them and grow familiar with the beauty of his ancestral land ! But my poetic reverie was doomed to end. Rain began to fall fast as we approached the great cotton manufactory of the realm, and I entered Manchester in a drenching shower. The landscape which so recently claimed my admiration was gone, and I stood alone in one of the filthiest places I had ever placed foot into up to that time. Smoke and clouds hung over the town, and through the veil of darkness which they created I could trace indistinctly the tall chimneys and towering forms of countless cotton factories. A small stream, black as ink, flowed near the station where I stood, and the earth around me appeared as black as the waters of the rill. " The dark and the light side of the picture !" mused I ; " we cannot expect sunshine and flowers always, and this black scene is put before me as a contrast with what I have just been enjoying so much. Hope and despair ! the country and the town ! The pure air of heaven and the polluted air of a manu- facturing city ! Let me see ; I'll cross that Styx, and look into Hades !" My luggage was carefully packed away in the " office for left parcels" — a very great convenience, too, is that office to travellers, if they happen to know of its existence ! — and then I bade adieu to my companion of the trip, a gentleman from Savannah, whose acquaintance I made in Liverpool, and plunged, literally plunged, into Manchester. Down into the valley of the foul stream, across its gloomy waters, through a narrow passage be- tween two massive mills, and out into an old, odd-looking street, with houses on either side, whose upper story hung over the footwalks like heavy brows over the eyes of a guilty man. They were gloomy buildings, and appeared to frown people away, to prevent the curious making examination of the heart within. I passed them rapidly, gazing on this side and then on that, at OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. * 49 tilings strange and quaint, and soon gained a finer thoroughfare, where I was cordially greeted, in true Yankee tone, with " How are you now, and what brought you here ? When did you leave home ?" and a host of similar questions, to all of which I made reply, and then we joined company and rambled on to my companion's hotel, in which I took up my temporary abode while in Manchester. It was a pleasure to meet an old friend so many thousand miles from home, and that so unexpectedly to each, and we enjoyed the blessing as long as time would allow, and then parted as suddenly as we met. A week's residence afforded me opportunity to visit the most remarkable localities, and- become acquainted, to a certain extent, with the habits and modes of life of the working population of the town. My entrance into Manchester was in a shower, and my final departure was in rain. During four of six days, while I remained there, the rain fell almost constantly, and I was informed that it is not an uncommon circumstance to have wet weather five out of seven days. It has been satisfactorily ascertained by scientific observation that one-fifth more rain falls at Manchester during a twelvemonth than in any other part of England. This may be a blessing rather than a misfortune, as the supply of water for the immense manufactories is thus kept up, and thousands of poor furnished with employment. It was Whitsuntide, the manufacturers' holiday (or week), at the time of this visit. The greater part of the factories were stopped, the populace enjoying themselves, each according to the bent of his mind, or the depth and fulness of his purse. Thousands had gone to the " Great Exhibition" and Paris, while great num- bers were on trips to Ireland or Scotland, or some other equally attractive part of the kingdom, then ^ easily reached by cheap excursions. The working people, however, generally remained at home for want of funds to go abroad; and as they are the ma- jority, Manchester was not entirely deserted. The town of Manchester is of great antiquity, its history being clearly traced to the times of the Koman power in Britain ; but 5 60 JJIE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; its rise to importance is owing to its extensive manufactories of cotton, mainly erected within the last sixty years. According to a published statement, there were, in 1848, about 1200 cotton- mills in the district of which Manchester is the chief town, cm- ploying 35,000 horse power and 200,000 persons. At the present time it is next to impossible for a person to obtain the correct number of factories in either the city proper or the adjacent districts. I made exertions to gain reliable information, but failed in every instance; not, however, from an unwillingness to impart the information on the part of those to whom I applied, but because no one knew. The ignorance of the people on the commonest affairs is surprising. It is characteristic not only of the poor, but of those who ought to be well informed. You ask the plainest question, to which a boy in the United States would make a ready reply, and there is a positive certainty that the answer will be, "I don't know." The large cotton factories were objects of particular interest, and, through the kindness and influence of some friends resident in Manchester, I was shown through several from the ground floor to the topmost story. The machinery was mostly old, and by no means so well finished as that made in the United States. The new that came under my notice was not much of an i^iprovement upon the old, although cleaner and better in appearance. The process of manufacturing cotton into fine numbers is different from the system followed in America, but mainly in the number of times the cotton is doubled in the machinery and the number of frames it passes through. The rooms, from the cardingroom up, are heated to about 70 degrees temperature, which is constant, and must be injurious to the persons employed. The raw mate- rial is first run through a machine known as the "devil," after which it goes through the spreader. It next passes through four diff'erent sets of carJs, about eighteen inches in width, with small cylinders, and no workers or strippers, but the old-fashioned flats. After going through the cards, it is doubled again four times and run through the same number of drawing-frames, doubling at each one. The frames have four heads, and are similar to those used in the United States. From the drawing-frames it is taken to 51 ■what are called jack-frames, where it is again doubled four times and run through but one machine, after which it is spun into cops on a mule; from whence the yarn is taken to a doubling-frame, doubled twice, passing (in its course through the frame) through water, and, in some cases, through a blaze of gas-light. The next process is to reel it into hanks, after which it is sent to Notting- ham and woven into lace. The mules are the same as those in use twenty years ago, the only difference being the wheel- head in the centre, and the num- ber of spindles ; some of them containing as many as six hundred and forty. The doubling-frames resemble the Danforth frames in some respects, and are an improvement on the old throstle. They serve the purpose of speeders, but do not twist the thread so hard as the Danforth frame. They are generally large, and contain as many as five hundred spindles, which are run at a great velocity, frequently making four thousand revolutions per minute. In the weaving departments which I visited, men were princi- pally employed, although this is not universally so. Women are engaged in a great many of the factories as weavers in Manchester, and in the United States it is their exclusive province about a factory where there are looms. That which attracted my attention most was the rapid movement of the shuttle, which makes as many as 130 picks in a minute on coarse fabrics, and as high as 200 on finer goods. The wages of those engaged in the factories are low. Men employed at weaving on power-looms earn from 9 to 18 shillings per week, or from $2.16 to $4.32, but the average is not more than 12 shillings, or $2.96, out of which many of them support families. One pound, or about $4.80 of our currency, per week, is considered very good pay for a man engaged in mule-spinning or carding. The difiereut branches of mechanical labor do not yield more than that sum per week the year round, with constant work. There are some cases where men in higher positions re- ceive as high as from $7 to $10 weekly, but those instances are rare. The working people of the town live in small two-story houses, generally located near the factories. The domiciles I visited did not present an attractive appearance, either outside or inside. The 52 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; lower floors arc of stone, that material being cheaper than wood. The usual furniture of the houses of the mechanics is a bureau, a table or two, a few chairs, and sometimes a carpet, and one or more pictures, on the first floor. The bedrooms are without car- pets, but, in other respects, pretty well provided. But few of the houses have more than three rooms, one down and two up stairs. The rents are low, compared with the prices paid in cities in the United States for buildings on streets; the sum varying from two shillings and sixpence to five shillings per week, to which must be added "rates and taxes,'*' claims the tenants are always obliged to pay, and which generally add considerably to the original amount. The condition of the mechanics and laborers in and around Manchester is far from enviable. Their wages are low, and in many instances scarcely sufficient to obtain the necessaries of life, and never enough to allow them to indulge in luxuries, without causing privation and want. The greater part of the generation just arrived at maturity are indifi'erently educated, numbers of them being unable to read and write. Their leisure hours are passed at ale-houses, and it is not an unusual thing to see women and men sitting together in those places around a table, sipping gin. Great reformations have been effected among the persons engaged in the mills by the active exertions of the members of the different temperance societies, but they have not as yet suc- ceeded in inducing women to shun the gin-palaces. In the United States, where woman is looked up to as a gentle and sinless being, too pure for crime, such assemblages are never seen, nor can an American imagine how they can exist; but in Kugland, where women are held in less estinmtion than with us, such exhibitions as above described are frequent and common, and but few think it either wrong or disgraceful. Many women are employed in the factories, and those who have small cliildren, and are compelled to work in the mills, generally leave their infants in institutions which abound in Manchester, where they are kept, during the time the mothers arc employed, for a small sum per day. There are several Mechanics' Institutes in the town, places OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 53 where lectures are delivered to the working classes on popular subjects, and to which libraries are attached for the benefit of mechanics and their families. But these places are not accessible to all, and numbers of those who are able to read, but who cannot or will not attend such institutions, ponder over works of fiction of a doubtful and immoral tendency, now published in London in large quantities, in pamphlets of six or eight pages, and sold extensively throughout the provinces, at one penny per number. Newspapers are few and expensive ; consequently, the poor, both from inclination and want of funds, take no papers, and read the penny publications, because they are cheap and entertaining. Since the passage of a law by Parliament, imposing a fine upon masters for employing children under thirteen years of age, but few young persons are seen about the factories, and such as are met with bear both a healthy and contented appearance. The rising generation is better educated than the preceding one, and there is a fair prospect that great permanent good will result from the law. A stranger in England sees many things which attract his attention for a time, but which, as they come before him con- stantly, are soon forgotten, or passed without notice. On first landing, he is struck with the ruddy complexion of the inhabit- ants, and the general beauty of the women. A pale and delicate female is seldom seen; but why is not so plain, since so much is said about the seamstresses and needle-women of England. Per- haps they are kept so close at work that they never get abroad, and therefore are rarely met. The factory girls of Manchester do not look so well as the same class in America, so far as regards dress and cleanliness, but their cheeks wear a ruddier glow, and their general appearance is healthful. One other curiosity, if it may so be called, are clogs, or shoes with wooden soles. These are the clumsiest things imaginable, and the best things to cripple feet ever worn. In Manchester, they are used quite extensively, and it is co.nmon to see little children running over the pavement with the heavy things attached to their feet, and making a clat- tering noise. The soles are always a half inch thick, and in many eases much more than that. Large heavy boots are worn by the 5* 54 men, which are full of great hob-nails, with heads a quarter of an inch in width. The clatter they make is outrageous when several clowns are hurrying over the pavements, and reminds one of a drove of oxen crossing a bridge. Black smoke in clouds constantly hovers over Manchester, at times completely confining the view to a few hundred yards like a thick fog. The air is filled with flying particles of coal from the chimneys of the manufactories, and the stranger finds his lineo, after a day's wear, as black as it would be should he wear it a week in any town in the United States — Pittsburg excepted. The large streets are lined with fine stores, and there are several public buildings worthy of notice. In the suburbs there are numbers of beautiful villas, the residences of merchants and manufacturers of the city, many of them looking like fairy palaces, particularly those on London Road, Plymouth Grove, and Balmoral and Roth- say Places. Here the air is pure, the sky clear, and all is so calm that, if the stranger did not really know it, he would not believe he was in Manchester. In company with two young men belonging to the cotton-mill of England, I took a walk through the adjacent county of Ches- ter. As soon as we got clear of the city, out into the green lanes, with their luxuriant hedges, where we could breathe the unpolluted air, our senses were regaled with the breath of flowers, and cheered with the song of the lark. On our journey we strolled through the old town of Stockport, which lies directly in a valley, and on the sides of hills along the banks of the Mersey, here an inconsiderable ditch, and as black as tar. The smoke is abominable, and Stockport has the reputation of being both the filthiest and the most moral place of its size in England. The streets are steep and crooked, the dwellings old and forbidding, and the cotton-mills the largest in the kingdom. We left the town, and turning into a pleasant lane, strolled leisurely along the river for several miles, visiting in our rambles some beautiful little villages. The Mersey is lined with embankments on both sides, so as to prevent it from overflowing the meadows, and, in conse- quence of recent rains, was high then and very rapid. It is some OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 55 fifty yards in width, and winds through a most beautiful country and landscape of rich fields and broad meadows, " Lovely in England's fadeless green." We stopped at a cottage in the village of Didsbury at noon, where we were hospitably entertained by a really beautiful girl of eighteen summers or more. She spoke the dialect of the country, but, objectionable as it may be when uttered by clowns, it is musical when articulated by a pair of pouting lips, in tones of welcome to a stranger. She was intelligent and vivacious, cheer- ful and entertaining ; and when she learned where I was from, she was all life and joy. "Ay! I have a brother there, and I would so like to see him. If s six years since he left us, and I was but a lass then ; but I remember him well, and would go miles to meet him once more. Poor Jack ! You probably know him ?" She stood before me as she uttered the interrogation, and the dews of affection moistened her blue eye as she gazed anxiously into my face, awaiting my answer. She looked as sisters only look when inquiring for a long absent and favorite brother of one who may have seen him; and when I informed her that it was not my pleasure to know her kinsman, she smiled through her tears, and said, " Even if you do not know him, you come from the town in which he lives, and that is a consolation that I am happy in. He will not come home, I fear, and I would go to America to see him, if it were not for the ocean ; but that would not be still for Canute, and I know it will not be calm for one like me. So I must be content with my lot, and only think of Jack.'' She insisted that we must remain and dine, and set to work pre- paring a meal. It was nearly ready, we must stay ; the weather was warm, we required rest and refreshment; and, more than all, an elder brother would soon be at home, and I must see him for her sake and Jack's. I could not resist the entreaty, and re- mained. The time passed pleasantly, the fare was excellent, and the company sociable and hospitable. But the time for departure arrived, and I bade my entertainers adieu, not, however, without 50 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; promising to seek the wanderer, when I returned to his home and mine. We passed through the old village, with its straw-roofed cottages and cheerful street, and diverged from the regular road into a footpath along the Mersey, here a clear arrowy stream, winding through a rich agricultural district, a walk along its banks being both pleasant and healthful. We had frequent opportunities of visiting the farms along the river, and enjoying the rich scenery of the vale of the Mersey. The air was clear and unpolluted, and the song of the skylark added a charm to the rural attractions around. The meadows looked as though they were covered with a carpet of velvet, spangled over with buttercups and daisies, and as the freshening breeze swept over the luxuriant fields, the grass and flowers gayly bent their heads to the summer winds. The hawthorn hedges gave out their incense, while countless flowers filled the air with their odors, forming an atmosphere in strong contrast to that of the slavish manufacturing towns in the distance. The day was passed without alloy; and, as I returned to Manchester, the long English twilight faintly struggled through the thick veil of smoke which overhangs the city. 'J'he transition from the pure air of the country to the thick atmosphere of the town caused me to sigh for the bright sky, the green fields, and healthful air, and, being tired of Manchester, I bade it an early adieu. CHAPTER V. SnEFFIELD^WIIARNCLlFPE WOOD — CITATSWORTn. It is pleasant sometimes to look at the falling rain when secure in comfortable quarters, but not agreeable to be in it. I have already said that Manchester was in a shower when I entered, and the clouds wore pouring their contents over it at my departure. It was my original intention to walk from the great manufacturing OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 57 town to Sheffield, but in consequence of continued heavy rains, I abandoned the design and performed the journey by rail. My travelling companions were not sociable, nor did I cultivate their acquaintance to any great extent, although we conversed freely at times. The country through which the road passes is broken, and not very highly cultivated. There are many ??plendid scenes on the route, and several large forests, one of them the most extensive in England. It is the scene in part of many of the finest portions of Ivanhoe, and classic ground to the reader of Scott's fascinating tales. At a place called Woodhead, the road passes through a tunnel nearly three miles long, one end of which is in Cheshire, the other in Yorkshire. It is cut under a bleak hilly moor, covered with dark heath and bogs, and was six years in course of construction. The entire work is walled and arched with excellent masonry, and presents a different appearance from similar engineering efforts in the United States. We were whirled along the iron way at a rapid rate, now on the edge of a splendid valley, now through a deep cut, and the next moment into the heart of a waste moorland. On — on crashed the iron courser, with terrible speed, leaving *' Trees behind trees, row by row, And clift by clift." The rain beat furiously down, the engine battled it bravely, and after two hours' strife entered the station at the city of cutlery, panting and impatient for another encounter with the elements. Sheffield is constantly under a cloud of smoke rising from its numerous manufactories, and, as it is situated on a hill with an amphitheatre of hills surrounding it, it looks like the crater of a burning mountain. The streets are crooked and steep; the houses in the business part old and dingy; and for the first few days, the stranger, who confines himself to the trading portion of the town, is disposed to regard it in anything but a favorable light. An occasional walk into the neighboring country of a fine day, and a. visit to the suburban part of the city, will dissipate much 58 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; of the first impression, and lead the visitor to a knowledge of the beautiful as well as the uninviting features of the town. The working population is among the worst clothed and the most cheerless of the English workmen. A large number of the mechanics are employed in the cutlery establishments, and as wages are low and provisions generally high, it is not diflScult to attribute the condition of the people to the right cause. In other towns, the women are fresh and rosy in appearance, while in Sheffield they are pale and sickly. Drunkenness is common, and '' Spirit Vaults" (a name for rum-shops) are more nume- rous than in any other provincial town of the same number of in- habitants. The wages of the men seldom exceed a sovereign per week, and often fall much below that sum. Those who labor in the coal-pits are exposed to danger and work hard, and yet their earnings are trifling. Boys are employed in these places from the tender age of ten years up, and receive but a paltry pittance for their labor. The workmen, in all the concerns where motive power is required, are obliged to pay out of their earnings a cer- tain sum per week for the use of the same ; and if a man spoils or slightly injures an article while it is in his hands, he is ob- liged to pay for it. In consequence of this rule, many things are thrown upon the mechanic's hands, which are so triflingly soiled as to defy the closest scrutiny of any but a thorough master of his business. When this fact is known, it is not a matter of sur- prise that the English manufacturers turn out good work. All the bad is left to the mechanic, who is compelled to lose his labor and pay for the material. Hero there are the broadest distinctions between master and man, and it is a customary thing to hear an employer call his working people his servants. On a Saturday evening, the markets of the town are densely thronged with people, and there a person can see the working classes to the best advantage. They crowd the space to such an extent as to make pcdcstrianism almost impossible, and till it till midnight. That may be designated as their time of rest, and then they breathe the air of freedom. Men with their wives plod along in search of a joint for their Sunday dinner, and select 69 sucli as their scanty means will allow, or retire to the ale-houses in the vicinity to indulge in the favorite beverage of the country. I know of but few scenes better calculated to amuse the American than a Saturday night market in Sheffield, for there he will see much of the olden time blended with the peculiarities of the new. The busy throng — the strange dialect, the quaint costume — all have attractions for him, and all command his attention. The extensive cutlery establishment of the Messrs. Rogers is located in Sheffield, and on presenting myself and announcing where I was from, every attention was shown me, and the curiosi- ties of their show-rooms opened for inspection. To the curious in such things, there were many wonderful articles, but I took very little interest in them. The best and most remarkable of their manufactures had been sent to the '' Exhibition,'' where they attracted much attention. This firm deals in silver plate as well as cutlery, but they do not manufacture it. In fact they make but few of the articles in which they trade, excepting cut- lery, and not all of that. The small establishments of Sheffield are said to produce more of Rogers' articles than they do them- selves. The west end contains many very fine buildings, both public and private. On an eminence which overlooks the town and surrounding country, there is a row of fine dwellings, in one of which Montgomery, the poet, resides. He is a hale old man, on the verge of the grave, and, in the enjoyment of a government pension, is quietly wearing out the thread of existence in his fa- vorite Sheffield. He occasionally attends public meetings held for philanthropic objects, and gives both his time and money to aid and relieve the distresses of the poor. The Parish Church is an ancient edifice, having been built so early as the year 1110. It is a large Gothic structure, with a chancel, in which are erected several costly tombs and monu- ments. Here I saw, for the first time, marble figures reposing at full length on the tombs of the departed. There is one monu- ment to the fourth Eurl of Shrewsbury and his two countesses, on which there are three figures the size of life, sculptured ia 60 THE FOOTPATH AND highway; marble. Each one lies as if stretched in death, with the hands and arms crossed upon the breast. A faint "religious light'' rested upon these dusty effigies, and the ghostly forms looked, in the subdued rays that streamed through the old chancel window, like the bodies of the unburied dead, in the costume of the olden time. The objects around and before reminded me that I was in an ancient place, surrounded by the ashes of those whose power was great in feudal times. The garments of the figures were in the fashion of another age. Armor and implements of war used in bygone centuries were chiselled on the tombs, and the mottos of the houses to which the occupants belonged graced the scrolls. The days of knighthood and mailed cavaliers came back to my recollection, and imagination invested with life the marble images before me. Sternly they rest, those speechless representatives of the dead of other years ; and although there is an air of stiffness about them, it is in character with the times of "feudal sway," and causes the behoTder to imagine himself in the presence of those whose actual lives have shed a romance over English history. A walk, of a fine day, through the lanes and by-paths of Old England, is a more pleasant treat, to the lover of the beautiful and elevating in rural life, than all the gratifications to be derived from pent-up cities. Two gentlemen of Sheffield and myself made a pedestrian excursion of about thirty miles through the surround- ing country, visiting, in our rambles, the estates of Howard, Earl of Effingham, and Earl Fitzwilliam, both of which lie within eight miles of the town, although in different directions. The walk through the fine park attached to Wentworth House, once the seat of the Thorou(/h Strafford, Prime Minister under Charles the First, was delightful. The estate belongs to Earl Fitzwilliam, having descended to that nobleman from his ancestor above named, beheaded by Cromwell and his Parliament, on account of his tyranny and persecutions of those who did not choose to be of his way of thinking. The house, or more properly castle, is a noble edifice, with a front of more than six hundred feet, and beautiful in its proportions. The parks are rich in mnjestio old oaks, and herds of deer feed quietly on the verdant lawns and OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 61 green swards, which extend for acres before the mansion. Two large monuments are on the estate, one to the memory of Admiral Keppel, the other to the Marquis of Kockingham. The galleries of the house are adorned with a number of celebrated paintings and pieces of sculpture, and the whole domain looks more like the residence of a monarch than a peer. When we visited it, the family was not at home, and the house was under the control of the butler. There he lived like a lord, and apparently as happy. A splendid range of stables is attached to the mansion, which, externally, is as fine a building as many could desire for a resi- dence. The stalls for the horses were better built and cleaner than many of the cottages on the estate, and the horses better cared for than the peasantry. The structure is of stone, built in the form of a hollow square, with a court-yard, in which a gurgling fountain plays constantly. The stalls for the animals are ceiled and plastered, which is more than can be said for one-half the English cottages. "VVe continued our walk to Wentworth and Greasboro, two vil- lages on the domain of Fitzwilliam, and returned to town through lanes and roads lined with hedgerows by way of the old town of Kotherham, once of far more importance than Sheffield, but now an inconsiderable place when compared with the city of cutlery. The parish church of Ilotherham is a splendid rectangular Gothic edifice, built on the site of a Saxon structure, in the reign of the fourth Edward. It is a fine specimen of the architecture of old, and is the principal attraction to the stranger in the place. In the south transept is a monument to fifty young persons, princi- pally children, who were drowned in the river Don, at Masboro, at the launching of a vessel on the 5th of July, 1841. There are also several ancient tombs, adorned with marble figures, erected to commemorate the services of men long since forgotten. Our ramble was over the soil once trodden by Cedric the Saxon, and Gurth the Churl ; through woods once the retreat of outlaw and forester, but now the resort of the peaceable citizen and curious tourist. During the stroll we rested at road- side or village inns, and met at each of those at which we tarried a warm English w .i 6 62 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; come, such as Shenstonc made the subject of one of his most celebrated poems. They were quiet little homes, and attractive to the stranger. At one of them, an old dame, with snowy cap and ■white apron, ushered us into a cheerful parlor, every feature of which bore evidence of her tidiness and excellent housekeeping. The floor was sanded, the fireplace decorated with boughs of green, and the walls hung round with pictures of rustic life and scenes from English history. She soon brought us tankards filled with foaming home-brewed ale, a loaf of coarse brown bread, and a supply of tart old cheese. I realized, to my satisfaction, that I was in an English inn. There was no mistake about it; before me were the windows, with their diamond-shaped panes, the oaken floor, the leaden sashes, the broad deal-table, and, more than all, the homely, yet wholesome fare ! Good old Falstiifl'! thou wert right, and knew well what constituted real comfort. I, like thee, love *' To take mine case in mine inn," and, humble though it be, the wayside or village hostclrie is a very home to me ! Our journey fitted us for the enjoyment of the quiet of the hearthside, and we had a ''feast of wit'* and exchange of feeling at the house of one of our company. There were eyes there that "marked our coming, and looked brighter when wo came," and sweet was the welcome home. It was fitting that our day should close with a scene of domestic harmony such as I witnessed in that well-trained English family, and such pleasures as delighted us there. We were not many, and the very fact that there were but few of us made our time pass agreeably. In the company was an old maiden lady who was passionately fond of Pomfret's poems. Her kinsmen were not well read in English poetry, and knew nothing of her favorite author. She had, years before, accidentally met with a stray copy, and in her hours of loneliness made it her study. To her there was no poet like Pomfret, and no poem liko " The Choice." I was appealed to, by one of the gentlemen, as to whether the poet was ever heard of on our side of the Atlantic ; OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 63 and when I assured him that all men of literary taste there were acquainted with his works, and admired many of his productions, the maiden aunt exulted, and praised Americans for their judg- ment and appreciation of talent. "But," said the gentleman, "sjie quotes Pomfret on all occa- sions, and thinks his book equal to every other, only excepting the Bible.'' " Why, that's strange ! You know," said I, appealing to the lady, "that your author incorporated a stanza into ^The Choice' to the effect that a mistress would be preferred by him to a wife, and in consequence of that he was suspended from his clerical duties by the bishop of the diocese !" •The whole family joined in merriment at this announcement, and the ancient maiden was confused. Her great favorite was unmasked, and that by one in whom she expected to find a fellow- admirer and champion ! " You must come all the way from America to revive the old slander against Pomfret, and give my kinsmen the mastery over me and him ! I am sorry I spoke of Pomfret to you, and will never hear the last of that charge. If you had not come, they would never have known that such was the case, and I would have been permitted to admire my author and quote him without being subjected to ridicule. You have told the truth ; but Pomfret was not a bad man, after all that was said against him I" Her friends took delight in annoying her about her favorite author, and I was complimented on my knowledge of the English poets. The gentle spinster bore the jesting philosophically, and quoted Pomfret's lines perseveringly in her, and his defence. She became excited a little at times ; but I came to her aid, and tried to cover up the fault I had committed. "No more from you," she said ', "you threw the apple of dis- cord, and now don't attempt to remedy the evil. You cannot undo the mischief." The evening wore away imperceptibly, and the small hours of morning came dancing in before we retired 4o rest, and when we did go it was with reluctance and a quotation from — Pomfret. Before taking final leave of Sheffield, I made an excursion to 64 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J Chatsworth, in company with a young friend whose acquaintance I made through a letter of introduction from his brother in Ame- rica. The morning was cloudy, and the wind high. Our road lay over the barren moors of Derbyshire, one of the most deso- late portions of England. For several miles there were but few houses, and the only objects worthy of note that met our gaze were occasional herds of mountain sheep, and Scotch cattle pas- turing on the scanty grass which grows upon the cultivated lands of those dreary hills. The moors extend for sixteen miles, and are, for the most part, covered with bracken, furze, and fragments of rocks. At a place called Owley Bar, there is an old inn, famous when stage-coaches were in their glory, but now a shadow of its former greatness. It stands on a high peak, and can be seen for miles as you approach it from any direction, presenting the appearance of a turreted castle. The moorlands around it belong mainly to the Duke of Rutland, and are game preserves. They abound in grouse and hares, and are a favorite resort of the owner in the hunting season. At one point of the desolate tract stands the house of the gamekeeper, which commands an extensive view of the surrounding country. The Argus eyes of the watch- ful guardian of his grace's game-lands seldom fails to discover the wily poachers, and that sentinel house is a thing dreaded by the filchers of stray hares and venturesome grouse. After a journey of a few hours, we reached Baslow, a pleasant village near Chatsworth, the princely estate of the J)uke of Devon- shire. Our main object was to visit the famous ducal residence, and when rested from our fatigue we entered the domain. The estate was one of those given by William the Conqueror to Wil- liam Peverel, an attendant; but in the reign of Elizabeth it was purchased by Sir William Cavendish, who commenced a mansion- house on it, which was completed by his widow, the renowned Countess of Shrewsbury. The present building was erected by the first Duke of Devonshire, in 1 702. The park is about nine miles in circumference, beautifully diversified with hill and vale, and con- tains fallow and other deer to the number of seventeen hundred. Some idea of the magnificence of Chatsworth can be formed from this statement, and the palace is in every particular in character OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 65 with the grounds around. The park abounds in groves and avenues of noble oaks, splendid drives, and beautiful scenery. The river Derwent flows through it and immediately in front of the mansion, in the rear of which there is a long range of hills, the southern spur of the highlands of the Derbyshire moors, crowned with a thick growth of timber, and kept in a wild and rugged state. Several artificial cascades are formed over these ridges by conducting water to the summit through tunnels and pipes, and causing it to rush headlong down the hill-side over rocks and jagged projec- tions, so arranged as to create foam and spray. The principal stream, thus diverted, falls about one hundred feet, and is some twenty feet wide. It has the appearance from below of a shower of silver, and strongly resembles the Catskill Mountain cascade, when seen from a distance. Art has done wonders for Chats- worth; but nature, too, has there been lavish of her charms. There is a small castle in the park near the river, surrounded by a moat, in which, it is said, Mary, the unhappy Queen of Scots, was imprisoned for thirteen years. It is a circular stone building, and at this time the interior is filled with earth, and trees are growing in the centre. The walls are massive and strong, and at some points overhung with ivy. Age is traceable on every part, and whether it was or was not the prison-house of the queen whose romantic history is in every school-girl's recollection, it has evidently been at some period the dungeon of more than one captive. The rain fell fast during the day, marring our pleasure for a time, but not entirely. It was our intention to visit Had- don Hall, but the storm prevented, and we were obliged to be content with Chatsworth and its vicinity. Our host at Baslow was a friendly person, and after we had dined he and I entered into conversation upon various subjects, and among them the United States was one. He knew several persons who now reside in America — young men who went from Chatsworth. He saw them go, and stated that Mr. Paxton, the originator of the Crys- tal Palace, presented each with sums varying from five to ten pounds at the time of their departure. Here, by accident, I was put into possession of a leaf in the 6* 6G THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; history of this gentleman, interesting in many respects. He was a gardener in early life, and is a native of Berwickshire, Scot- laud. The Duke of Devonshire, while on a visit to a market- town, where there were flowers for sale, was attracted by a par- ticular collection, which exhibited greater care and skill in their culture than any others. He inquired who raised them, and learned that it was the gardener who had them for sale. A proposition was at OUce made by the nobleman to the horticulturist, and, as it was advantageous, it was accepted. He went to Chats- worth, where he arrived about twenty-five years ago, with not more than six shillings in his pocket. Here he had every advan- tage of exercising his peculiar talent, and, as he was industrious, and attentive to his master's interests, he gradually arose to favor and power. He suggested alterations in the park, and they were made. He removed and transplanted oaks and elms; formed splendid and continuous alcoves and arbors, where before were straggling trees, and added greatly to the beauty and splendor of the estate. The confidence of the nobleman became unbounded, and he gave the servant full control over Chatsworth. He now employs and discharges — receives and expends, and has become so identified with the domain as to be known in the neighborhood as the "little duke." The peer calls him by the familiar term of " ray friend," and he is a man respected and esteemed by all. Ho bears his honors modestly, and docs not (like too many who have been elevated to distinction from nothing) forget his early companions and fellow- laborers. When he visits Chatsworth, he always has a word for his former associates, and all love him for it. It was at his suggestion that the splendid conservatory at Chatsworth Hall was built, and that minor palace of glass suggested the more magnificent one in Hyde Park. But there is another person deserving some praise in this design, and that is a Mr. Robin- son, an architect, who resides at Baslow. Mr. Paxton is not a draughtsman ; he can tell how he wants a thing done, and knows whether it is properly made, but ho cannot put his ideas on paper or furnish a draught of the thing he wishes built. Mr. Robinson cnn. Wo. is one of the most capable men in England. Paxton OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 67 knows and appreciates his talents and professional skill, and what Paxton suggests, the other makes a draught of. Paxton originated the Glass Palace, but, had it not been for Mr. Hobinson, the pro- babilities are that it never would have had a form, " a local habi- tation, or a name." The drawings were made at Baslow, by Mr. Robinson, for which Mr. Paxton gave him £100, or a sum nearly equal to $500 ; and it is asserted that neither he nor his wife drew a sober breath until the last penny of the one hundred pounds in question was gone. My informant was a man of veracity, had been a fellow-workman with Sir Joseph Paxton (this being now his title), and gave me his^name as authority for the statement. He offered to introduce me to the architect, whose cottage was within full view from where I then stood. There is at Chatsworth a model village, called Edensor, built at the expense of the Duke of Devonshire, after the designs fur- nished by Mr. Paxton and his protigL Every house is different, and for beauty and comfort the place stands unrivalled. The houses are in the various styles of rural and cottage architecture, now so popular in the United States, and each one is a neat con- venient villa. The old church in the village is one of the most romantic in England. It stands above the level of the street, and is surrounded by a natural colonnade of trees, so arranged as to look like the tall arches of a bridge. The branches have been trimmed smoothly off on two sides, and the summits are made quite flat and level. The remaining branches intertwine each other, and form one of the most beautiful ranges of arches in the world. The trunks of the trees look like tall columns, while the curves and foliage above form a range of emerald spans unsur- passed in elegance. In the chancel of the church are the tombs of the Cavendish family. There are several marble figures stretched at full length on the tombs like so many ghostly dead ; and on one of the vaults there is a human skeleton, cut from the whitest marble, reminding the visitor forcibly of the folly of dis- tinctions in this life, and the certainty of death. The church is an ancient building, nearly covered with ivy, and stands like a heavy sentinel, watching over the expanse before it. We left Baslow late in the afternoon, and, as the stage was 68 THE FOOTPATH AND UIGIIWAY ; gone, dotermined to walk to SheflSeld, a distance of twelve mileg. The road was wet and covered with a white mud formed by the rain and dust arising from the wear of the material used on the turnpikes in that part of the island. The storm subsided, and although the winds were keen and high, the walk was far from disagreeable. When we got cleverly out on to the moors, the night set in, and a dull cloudy sky overhung the bleak and desolate hills. Occasional drops of rain fell from the flying vapors, and blackness covered the face of the land. As we wended our way over the dreary waste, each, as if by mutual consent, fell into a train of musings agreeable to himself. The sublime in nature always produces, in my mind, a chain of melancholy but pleasing reflections, and there, at night, under a gloomy sky, on the sterile moors of England, the same thoughts arose that pressed upon my soul on the boundless prairies of the west, and the restless waters of the ocean. AVe reached Sheffield at a late hour, tired and jaded with our long walk and the day's excursion. CHAPTER VI. THE HOMES AND GRAVES OF BYRON AND MARY CHA WORTH — NOTTINGHAM — HENRY KIRKE WHITE. Byron's grave, at Ilucknall, and Newstead Abbey are objects of interest to me, and after a lengthened stay at Shefiield, I took an outside seat on the stage for Mansfield, from which place I pro- ceeded on foot. The road lay through a succession of scenery such as meets the eye only in England ; and which greets the traveller with little variation throughout the southern part of the island of Great Britain. The town of Chesterfield, on this route, is remarkable for the singular spire of the old church, which re- minds one of the leaning tower of I'isa. It is constructed of wood, and, although nearly straight, is built so as to appear, from any point of view, as if it were leaning at an angle of fifteen or twenty 69 degrees. Between this town and Mansfield, there are two cele- brated castles — one the old palace of Hardwick; the other the ancient baronial stronghold of Bolsover. In the centre of the main square of the last-named town, there is a fine Gothic monu- ment to the memory of Lord George Bentinck, a young Eng- lish nobleman who died a few years ago, at a time when he was rapidly rising to eminence as a statesman in the British Parlia- ment. Having strapped my knapsack on my back, I left Mansfield, and took the turnpike to Derby, the nearest way to Hucknall. The day was warm and pleasant, and my route lay over a moor, once a part of Sherwood Forest. The road for some distance was very indifierent, and equally bad with any in the United States. For miles there were but few houses within sight; and wild shrubbery and yellow blossoming furze grew in abundance along the highway. The soil was sandy, and poorly cultivated where cultivation was attempted. I walked a distance of nine miles over lands once the haunts of Bobin Hood and his ^^ merrie foresters;" and in some places the wood was so thick that it did not require a very active imagination to people it with the descendants of the bold outlaw and his followers. Groves of fir and pines, inter- spersed with magnificent oaks, whose branches shadowed all the wild, formed a cool retreat and pleasant shade for the weary traveller. I sat down on the bank x)f a gurgling stream, bright and clear, which flowed from a clump of noble trees near by, and fell into a train of thought on the events in a man's history, and the realiza- tion of my boyish daydreams. I was on classic soil — in Sher- wood Forest — surrounded by giant forest-kings and English syl- van scenery. A herd of deer was grazing under the shade of the tall trees, and methought I saw the melancholy Jacques standing against the strong trunk of an old oak, soliloquizing on a wounded stag that had " ta'en a hurt" from the aim of some green-robed forester. The day was calm, the sky banked up with fleecy clouds, and the scenery such as a novelist would desire to paint — ultra-romantic. As I pursued my course along the road, I passed an inn bearing 70 THE FOOTPATH AND highway; the name of England's outlawed forester, which a rustic assured me was the very house in which the bold outlaw was wont to hold riot when in his glory. The place had enough of the woodman's hut about it to make the beholder believe it to be what tradition represents it; but it wanted age. A mile or more southward of the wayside inn, I stopped at a toll-gate to inquire the nearest way to the village of Hucknall, and was directed through a park immediately before me. It was a broad and highly picturesque landscape, on whose verdant sur- face numbers of deer were feeding. Groves of giant oaks crowned the surrounding hills, and the soft summer winds were rich with the scent of new-mown hay. As I slowly wended my way along the paths, the scenery became familiar, and there was no difficulty in recognizing it from Byron's writings. There was the " gentle hiir^ on which he was wont to meet with her who was the object of his warmest and holiest love, and where his youthful soul first felt how keen a sting was that of unrequited passion. It still was "Green and of mild declivity, tlie last, As 'twere the cape of a long ridge of such. Save that there was no sea to lave its base But a most living landscape " but the " trees of circular array" were gone, and the spot whereon the " youth and the maiden" once stood was no longer shaded by the broad branches of the oaks, from within whoso shadow she watched — "Looking afar, if yet her lover's 8teod Kept pace with her expectiincy and flew." The summer winds waved the grass upon the summit of the hill, and Annesloy Park, the birthplace and patrimony of Mary Chaworth, looked as enchantingly on that day as if sorrow had never entered its borders. I turned towards Hucknall, a straggling hamlet, witli but few cottages, and only famous as the burial-place of the }5yrons. The scene before me was eminently English and beautiful. The vel- vety sward, the tower of the distant village shrine, the abodes of OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 71 men, the heavy wains, and the balmy air of June, made up a picture at once enchanting and sweet, aside from the associations connected with it. I enjoyed the time and place, and leisurely strolled on, within the shade of green hedges and bending trees, until I entered the village street. The church was the principal spot I cared to visit, and, after depositing my knapsack at the inn, and sending for the clerk, I entered the building. There was a company of English tourists already there, and their levity was unbecoming, to say the least of it. The poet never entertained a flattering opinion of his countrymen, and his dust would have crept, had he known that some of them were laughing and jest- ing over his grave. The interior of the church is in great dis- order, and, like the rest of the building, old and decayed. The vault wherein the poet lies buriod is covered with two large slabs of rough stone clumsily fitted together, and the floor around, which is of the same material, is broken and irregular. A plain white marble tablet, bearing an inscription to the poet's memory, is fitted in the wall and surrounded by a black border. It is im- mediately over the vault ; and beneath it there is a coat of arms, cut in stone, with the motto, " Crede Byron ;'^ and this is the tomb of the author of " Childe Harold !" He reposes among his ancestors, and near the last resting-place of her who bore him. Opposite to the poet's tomb is a stone bearing a long inscription to the services and worth of a Byron, who adhered to the cause of Charles the First in the days of that monarch's misfortune. The English company soon left the church, and after they were gone I stood for some time meditating on the changes and troubles in the life of him whose ashes were beneath my feet. A beautiful young girl of seventeen summers, with an '^ eye as blue as hea- ven," and a face expressive of sinless purity, was my guide. She was the daughter of the parish clerk, and during her father's ab- sence waited on strangers to the tomb. I recorded my name in a book she kept for visitors, and on looking over it noticed those of a great number of Americans. I asked her if she saw many of my countrymen, to which she replied in the affirmative. More of them visit Hucknall than of any other foreigners, and all of them take great interest in everything relating to Byron. " Has Lady 72 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; Byron ever been here ?" I asked. '^ No," said sbe, " not within my recollection ; but last summer Lady Lovelace was here, Byron's daughter. She came with Mrs. Wildman, the lady of the present occupant of Newstead Abbey. When she came in, she burst into a flood of tears, and wept long and audibly. It was an affecting scene, sir, and I could not help but weep with her. She stood some time leaning over the vault against the tablet, and sighed as though her very heart would break. Ay, sir, she loved her father ; and could he have seen her, and known her affection for him, he would have been a better and a happier man. She never came but once to the grave, and then it was a difficult thing to get her away. I believe she grew ill in consequence of grief after that visit, and it was deemed prudent not to renew it." " Do you know whether either of the Musters family ever visited the place ?" " Yes, sir ; several of them have been here, and I have been told that Mary Chaworth came once, a few years before she died, and passed some time in the church. They who saw her speak of her as a pale sad lady, of gr^at beauty j one who looked heart- broken and unhappy. She did not converse of Byron, nor even utter his name, but stood silently at his grave like a marble figure in which grief was forever frozen." The fascinating maiden was anxious to render all the informa- tion in her power, but cautious and truthful in her statcment,s. She told me that many of the visitors act strangely when at the tomb, and some recite lines aloud from the works of the poet, while others are affected even to tears. I wanted a memento to take with me, some trifle from Byron's grave, but there was none. She was unhappy because she had nothing for me, and made search for a something that I might bear away. At last her bright blue eye flashed with delight, and, said she, " Hero is a piece of oak from one of the pews ; it was taken off by the workmen when making repairs, and left behind. You can have it turned into a scal-handh^ if you wish." I ac- cepted the gift and tbauked her for it, glad even of this token from Byron's grave. She told me that the person who had been clerk to iho parish OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. • 73 before her father's time so arranged one of the stone slabs as to remove it, and was in the habit of showing people the coffin, but on the news reaching the curate the man was discharged, and the stone securely cemented in its proper place. But few of the Bjron family visit the poet's grave, and, with the exception of his sister and daughter, none remain more than a few minutes. Strangers, however, "Whose wandering feet have pressed The Switzer's snow, the Arab's sand, And trod the piled leaves of the West, My own green native land," have made it the Mecca of their pilgrimages, and gone thousands of miles to pay homage to the dust of him whose genius has shed undying lustre on English literature. The road from Hucknall to Newstead Abbey lies through a wood as wild as some of our American forests. It is arched with the branches and foliage of trees for more than a mile, and several limpid streams cross it, while frequent footpaths lead off at differ- ent points into the deep shade. At the end of the wood it runs over a gently sloping hill, from the top of which the turrets and Gothic ruins of the abbey burst upon the view. There is the lake and every feature of the landscape as described by Byron. The old chancel-window is intertwined with ivy, and the walls look as if they would brave time and its storms for a thousand years. The building stands in a quiet valley surrounded by hills, and <'Lies perhaps a little low, Because those monks preferred a hill behind To shelter their devotion from the wind." The grounds are laid out tastefully, and there are several gardens bearing names according to the countries whence the flowers planted in them come. One is called the " American garden," and there grow luxuriantly our wild honeysuckle and rhododendron. The oak planted by Byron is shown as one of the curiosities of the place ; and in the '^ devil's wood,'^ a deep, im- penetrable shade, there is a tree with two trunks, dear to the 7 74 . THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; poet and his sister, on which he cut the following inscription the evening before he left Newstead forever : — ]czfjr'}''^'-''''- The bark has grown over the record ; and great difficulty is experienced in deciphering the date. A natural arbor, formed of the branches of oaks and overhanging ivy, is pointed to as the ^' Monks' Walk •/' and a pure crystal spring, called the " Holy Well,'^ claims the visitor's attention. In the body of the abbey, within the ruins, are several figures in stone, and a fountain gurgles through an old and quaint piece of sculpture. The poet has described the place in his matchless style, and no pen can surpasss the description left by him of the brave old pile. As I stood within its shade and listened to the falling waters, I realized in full his rich description : — " Amidst the covirt a Gothic fountain played, Symmetrical, yet decked with carvings quaint, Strange faces, like to men in masquerade, And here perhaps a monster, there a saint. The spring gushed through grim mouths of granite made, And sparkled into basins, where it spent Its little torrent in a thousand bubbles, Like man's vain glories and his vainer troubles." Boatswain's grave is always visited, but beyond the halo thrown over the tomb by the genius of Byron, there is nothing attractive about it. The celebrated epitaph is scarcely legible, and it was only by supplying from memory the obliterated portions that I was enabled to read the inscription. From that spot I also wished a memento, but was refused. Tlio cheerful and intelligent lady's maid, who conducted me over and around the abbey and grounds, was sorry she could not comply with my request. She had the will to do it, but her orders were positive, and she could not violate them. I insisted : " Just a sprig from that fir-tree along-side the grave — it will not be missed ; and, as I have come a considerable distance, I am confident you will not refuse." OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 75 " You are an American 1" " Yes ! from Pennsylvania." " Cut the branch, then ; but it is only because you are an Ame- rican that you obtain the favor !'' I thanked her, and felt proud of the compliment she paid me, as well as of the sprig from Boatswain's tomb ! After three hours spent in rambling about Newstead and the lands adjacent, I returned to Hucknall, whence I journeyed on to Nottingham, having walked about thirty miles during the day. A long, but pleasant ramble, and one of the most interesting I ever had. But few towns in England are more romantically situated than Nottingham, and I know of none in whose vicinity can be found finer scenery. The Trent is a clear, swift stream, of great beauty, along the shores of which are several splendid walks and groves. Long ranges of stately elms line the banks at a short distance from the town, and the citizens enjoy pleasant evening rambles in the summer twilights under the noble trees. Clifton Grove, on the river named, made famous by the muse of Henry Kirke White, and Wilford Churchyard, are the very spots for poetic reverie. The last-named village is one of surpassing beauty, and the true representative of an old English hamlet. Its every fea- ture is ancient, and speaks more of the days of Queen Bess than of Victoria. No wonder the youthful and pious White desired to lay his form to rest in its lovely, romantic burial-place, and pity it is that his wish was not gratified. I walked through the village with a companion, and visited the spot where the " rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." The graves are swathed with osiers and decorated with rustic devices, rough tombstones, and rude sculpture. Tall elms spread their branches over the lowly hillocks, and a heavenly quiet reigns on the spot. We returned to Nottingham by a turnpike road, crossing the Trent on a bridge of nineteen arches, built centuries ago, and exhibiting a variety of architecture from frequent repairs. Tlie town has a commanding front when seen from " the wide vale of the Trent," and its tall church towers and ruined castle stand out in bold relief against the sky. When you enter, you 76 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; find the streets clean compared with those of other manufacturing places, and the houses have about them an air of considerable antiquity. The market-place is a fine open space, built up on two sides with rows of shops, all of which have porticos in front, sup- ported by columns, forming a covered arcade, which extends the entire length of the space. In a small street leading from the square, and near the Exchange, stands the house in which Henry Kirko White was born. The ground floor is divided into three apartments, two of which are butchers' stalls, and the third a gin-palace. Below Nottingham, on the Trent, here a pretty and romantic stream, there is a largo estate known as Colwick Hall. It is the property of the Musters family, and the burial-place of Mary Chaworth. During the reform riots in the town some years ago, at which time Nottingham Castle was burned, the mob set fire to Colwick Hall, but did not destroy it. Mrs. Musters was driven from the house, and took refuge in the wood on the estate. From the fright and exposure during the night, she contracted a fever which soon terminated her existence. She is buried in Colwick Church, an old ivy-clad edifice imme- diately adjacent to the hall, and her tomb is an object of fre- quent visit by tourists. She left four children, two of whom arc living : one of them a daughter, now married — and the other a son, a clergyman of the Established Church. The eldest, who would have been heir to the joint estates of herself and husband, died a few years ago, leaving a son, who, by the death of his grandfather, is lord of the manors of Annesley and Colwick. The elder Musters was a great huntsman, and from all ac- counts very much of a brute. He was a tyrant to the poor, which explains the visit of the mob to his hall. It is currently reported in Nottingham that he frequently used personal violence towards his wife, and more than once beat her severely. He died about two years ago on his own estate, not much regretted, but a good deal despised, and now lies buried at the side of his wife in his family vault at Colwick Church. A lady of Nottingham, who was well acquaiuteil with Mary Cha- worth, gave me some particulars in the life of that lady and of her OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 77 husband worthy of note. She stated that Musters was one of the most finished libertines of his day, and had been guilty of crimes which would have consigned any other man, less fortunate, to the gallows. He was a man of fine appearance, and to that circumstance he owed his success in winning the heart of Mary C ha worth. He was a gambler, a horseracer, a spendthrift, and a bully, and has been known to outrage women frequently. No female escaped his eye, no matter to what family she belonged, and even young girls were the objects of his base passions. His wife was aware of his conduct, and lived a most wretched life in consequence of his treatment, and was scarcely ever known to smile. She was a heart-broken woman for years, and acknow- ledged that she suffered justly for her indifference to Byron. She no doubt loved the poet ardently, and never received com- pany after his death. When my informant was a little girl, Mary Chaworth would send for her when in Nottingham, and never left the town with- out seeing her. The calm face of the lady was impressed upon the memory of the child, and to this day she has a distinct re- collection of its sweetness and sad expression. ^'Was she really handsome?" I asked, being under the im- pression that the ''poet might have seen Helen's beauty in a brow of Egypt," and given to a person of moderate personal at- tractions the color of his wishes and romantic dreams. "I have seen," said she, "many lovely and admired females — females whose beauty has been the subject of fame, but none of them surpassed or even equalled Mary Chaworth. She was one of the loveliest of women, but at the same time one of the most unhappy." Musters was always in debt, and his estate was pawned for years for the payment of his gaming obligations, which amounted in several different)^ years to £40,000 or $200,000 per annum. He was in the habit of quarrelling with the peasantry, and when he met with poachers on his land he would beat them unmerci- fully. On one occasion he fell in with one, and made a ring for a fight. The poacher entered, and as he was a scientific boxer he 7* 78 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; flogged Musters to his heart's content. The bully thanked the peasant for his dressing — swore he was a gentleman — took him to his hall — treated him, and became his firm friend. Colwick Church is the very place of burial for a poet's love. It is craped in ivy, overshadowed by trees gray with age. Near it flows one of the finest of England's streams, and the soft flowing waters of the pensive river murmur a dirge over the grave of Mary Chaworth as they kiss the sod near which she sleeps. To the last she bore the ancestral title, and with her died the once pow- erful family and name of Chaworth. Such is a portion of the history of two beings who have been immortalized by the genius and passion of Byron ; and it is strange that their characters should have been so opposite, and the life of the one so unhappy. When I was in Nottingham, there was great misery among the working classes. In passing through Annesley Park, I was ac- costed by four stout young men, who asked me for money to ob- tain bread. Their appearance forbade the idea of their being regular beggars, and I made some inquiries as to who and what they were. They informed mc that they were hosiery weavers or knitters, but, owing to the depressed state of the trade, were unable to find employment. I gave them what I could spare, and asked them to sit down, and tell me some of the particulars of their distress. Three of the four were married. Neither of them had been at work for full six weeks, and, when they were employed, their earnings did not exceed seven shillings per week, and oftentimes it fell far short of that sum. They told mo that there were hundreds of men in Nottingham starving, and they themselves had not had a regular meal for some days. Their appcarnnco was favorable, and their plain unvarnished story bore no evidence of falsehood. They were willing and anxious to work, and revolted at the thought of turning beggars; but starva- tion stared them in the face, and they must either beg or steal; and thieves they wore not. I parted with them, deeply impressed with their wretched condition. The next day, as I was leaving a shop where I had been to make a few purchases, I was stopped by three men who asked for OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 79 alms. They were honest-looking fellows, and no one could doubt their willingness to work. They said they were what are called " cut-ups/^ and could not get employment. They confirmed the statement of the first persons I met as to wages and the deplora- ble condition of the trade. At a meeting held at the Corn Exchange in the town on Fri- day evening, June 6, 1851, on the depressed state of the hosiery trade, a gentleman resident in Nottingham stated " that there were two hundred and fifty married men in the drawer and shirt business, destitute of employment, all of them with families of four persons on the average, each, which would make one thou- sand persons in want of bread. With reference to the next branch, the ^ cut-ups,^ there were five hundred individuals out of work, none of whom had the means of procuring food, and putting them on the same average as the others, there were two thousand persons lacking the necessaries of life. They had passed through such panics before, but arising from very difi"erent causes to those now in operation, such as high provisions and scarcity of money. But here they were in the height of what was denominated free TRADE ! Cheap bread and a starving population ! ' He was a free trader,' but human nature was human nature, and how de- grading when their necessities could not be supplied one way, to see men perambulating the town, and going from house to house asking alms, while they were willing to work if they could obtain work. Had an honest born man any right to be reduced to such a position V Another speaker, a working man, said that there were three thousand glove-knitters in the counties of Nottingham, Leicester, and Derby, but of these not more than two hundred were anything like fully employed. Five hundred or six hundred earned on an average from five to seven shillings per week, while there were several hundreds more who could not earn more than from two to four shillings in that time. In the village of Bulwell, there were more glove hands than in Nottingham. And among six hundred glove-makers at that place, there were not above eighty who got anything like six shillings per week ; and the same result would bo found in every district of the manufacture. 80 THE FOOTPATH AND HIOHWAYJ Such was the deplorable and starving state of an honest class of industrious men, in one of the finest towns of England, at a time when the great, glorious, and magnanimous British nation was prosecuting a war against savages in a distant section of the world, at a cost of £3000 per day ; and at the same time upbraiding and taunting Americans with slavery ! Consistency, thou art rare ! CHAPTER VII. DERBY — LONDON — INCIDENTS AND REMARKABLE PLACES. A LONG walk of a sunny day tires, especially when the pedes- trian is alone; and, although green hedges surround him, and fine scenery occasionally blesses his vision if the sun have full sway, he is not likely to enjoy his ramble. From Nottingham to Derby was a dull journey, because of the heat and my companion- less situation. I plodded on over a smooth road, gazing on all that was worth looking at, but did not stop once in my walk of six- teen miles. The inns in the villages and on the road-side had no attractions for me, and I passed the *^Duke of Wellington" as care- lessly as I did the " Spotted Cow," or " Fox and Hounds." I felt the want of company. Some one to converse with would have been a relief, for then the long miles would have grown shorter, and the prospects doubly admired. Shakspeare told a home truth when he put into the mouth of one of his characters these lines : — " The high, wild lulls, and rough uneven ways, Draw out our miles, and make them wearisome; And yet your fair discourse hath been as sugar, Making the hard way sweet and delectable." 1 wanted a companion in that stroll to sweeten the toil of travel, but found none. The sparrows and wagtails were disposed to be sociable at times, but I met with no mortal fit for my purpose. The peasants were either too stupid or too boorish to converse, and as I encountered no persons but them, I made no acquaintance. OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 81 The road was pleasant in places where it crossed a bright stream or sinuous canal, and the artificial watercourses over which I passed were quite as romantic as the rivers. Skylarks soared heavenward from the meadows, piping their mellow notes from their skyey thrones when far beyond my vision, and seeming glad in their song. But still the heat was intolerable to me under a weighty knapsack, and the larks only crossed my path occasion- ally. When their notes were hushed, my load grew heavy, and I was well pleased, at last, to behold the beautiful town of Derby. I crossed the bridge over the Derwent, and plodded my way to an inn, where I found refreshment and comfortable quarters. The town had a clean aspect, and its old ivy-curtained church and pretty main street, its beautiful and chaste semi-cathedral and splendid public garden, supplied the void, in my mind, of the companion I desired in the early part of the day. I like the ^lace; it is pretty — or was when I was there; and then, my old landlady was a kind motherly dame, who treated me in an affectionate manner, which fact caused me to overlook every defect the town possessed. Narrow crooked streets, clown- ish butchers, and other things of a like nature that might be objectionable to some, were not so to me because of the goodness of mine hostess. Benevolent old lady ! she had a sweet temper and an affectionate heart, and love for all mankind — even for Frenchmen, those terrible fellows, about whom nurses tell stories for frightening children to sleep in England. I was anxious to get to London ; a day in Derby was sufficient for my purpose, and I determined to go to the metropolis "by rail." The station at the town is among the largest in Great Britain, and quite imposing. While waiting for a train, I amused myself by looking over the cheap publications on a book-stand within, and found the works of quite a number of my countrymen there. Cheap editions of Cooper's novels; "Salmagundi" and " Sketch-Book" Melville's Island tales; Longfellow's, Willis's, and Bryant's poems; and the productions of other authors of note. I might increase the list to a catalogue, but the above enumeration will suffice. Bancroft's " History of the United States" appeared to be in demand, and the salesman told me the work sold well. It had 82 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; just made its appearance in cheap form, and, like Macaulay's " England" with us, went off rapidly, but not to the pecuniary ad- vantage of the -author. I thought the publication of it a recip- rocal act, and if neither historian gets money by the reprinting of his productions in other lands, each is read more and becomes more famous — two things quite agreeable to some writers. The train was a good one, and on we dashed. Green fields fled by, towns were passed rapidly, and early in the afternoon of a summer's day, I arrived in London. My fellow-travellers were sociable, and disposed for conversation; but I preferred being a listener to a participant. In a discussion which arose between them, reference was made to America, when one quickly replied, "A pretty land of freedom, where they have slaves in chains, and scourge them to death I" This man afterwards entered into conversation with me, and when he learned where I was from, im- mediately began to lecture me on slavery. I told him that it was an aifair of our own ; that we generally managed to mind our own business; and I did not think his preaching would amount to much. He stopped, and asked me whether expressing an opinion con- cerning the institution was wrong. "Most decidedly," said I, " when it is done in the manner you have done it. Now, the very first thing you spoke to me about, after you ascertained where I was from, was slavery. You do not know whether I own slaves or not; and what 's more, you know nothing of slavery in Americ^i, as your remarks a few minutes ago fully testify." I told him that such persons as he had done more to perpetuate the institution in the United States than all the slave-holders in the country, and that his philanthropy would be better employed in trying to reme- dy the condition of the poor Irish than in interfering with a nation and an institution of which he evidently knew nothing. At this time, the train dashed into a tunnel of a mile or more in length. Darkness suspended the conversation until the cars emerged from the cavern, when I remarked tliat the subject was a black one, and I hoped the veil just drawn over it would remain. He acquiesced, and changed the topic. I continued with him until the end of the journey, and when we parted he "hoped he would have the pleasure of seeing me again." OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 83 Ou my first entrance into London, the roar of its crowded streets, accustomed as I am to cities, deafened me. I plodded my way along its thronged thoroughfares as much astonished as a rustic who, for the first time, visits a market-town. The history of certain localities had been impressed upon my mind for years, and when I turned into Gray's Inn Lane, it seemed like the reali- zation of a dream. Hoiborn Hill and Newgate Street — the Old Bailey, and "Paul's stupendous dome" — all reminded me of my school-boy days, and the old English time. I got down into the city, and almost up to the crowning work of Sir Christopher Wren, before I caught a glimpse of that mighty edifice. It dis- appointed me. Cramped in among a forest of bricks and mortar, it looked the merest pigm}'', compared w^ith what I had expected. But the surrounding localities repaid me for my disappointment. I sauntered along Cheapside, Paternoster Row, Ludgate Hill, and many other streets fresh in the memory of the student of English history and literature. St. Paul's churchyard is " classic ground.'* Childs' celebrated Coffee-House was located on that street, and it was there that Addison and his literary contemporaries were wont to resort for relaxation and social enjoyment. In ascending the hill from the Old Bailey up Newgate Street, I met several boys dressed in the costume of a forgotten age. Long blue coats, reaching down to their feet, yellow stockings, brown velvet short-clothes, and shoes with buckles, constituted their ap- parel. They were without hat or cap; and on they loitered, per- fectly indifferent to the gaping stranger. I rubbed my eyes and began to think that, like Rip Van Winkle, I had just waked up from a nap of years in duration. No ! there were those boys in that ancient dress. I slowly moved on — a few steps -brought me to an iron railing through which a number of curious persons were gazing. I looked within the inclosure, and saw hundreds of lads in the same costume worn by those I had just met. Some of them had their long coats tucked up under a leathern girdle, which goes around the waist ; and their nether extremities looked oddly enough, encased in yellow hose. All were bareheaded; and some romped and shouted, while others formed two and two, and with arms around each other's waist promenaded, undisturbed, the 84 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; vast court-yard, unheeding and unheeded save by the curious crowd. They looked like children of a past age; and now con- stitute a link between the present and the olden time. They "were the scholars of the celebrated ^'Blue Coat School," or Christ's Hospital, the place where S. T. Coleridge and Charles Lamb were educated. It was nearly night when I reached St. Martin's-le-Grand, and the streets were crowded to excess. Almost every description of vehicle rushed along the thoroughfares, and torrents of human beings poured down the sounding avenues. Bustle and confusion frighted the air, and stunned me. I sought out lodgings, but could not sleep — the noise was continuous and eternal. The day encroached upon the night, and before the night had passed the clash of wheels again shook the quivering air. I arose early, and looked from my window. Directly opposite was a sign bearing a classic inscription, "0, Rare Ben Jonson;" and Aldersgate Street lay before me. I had been dozing on famous ground, and the ghosts of departed authors, no doubt, disturbed my slumbers. A short distance below me was Little Britain, and near by Bar- tholomew's Close. " Shade of Franklin V thought I, '< and do my wandering feet tread the soil of London once trodden by thine ? I plucked some grass from thy grave in Philadelphia; I'll leave it with some admirer of thine in Little Britain." I had no appetite for mutton-chops and hot rolls ; the desire to visit St. Paul's was paramount, and destroyed that for breakfast. A slight repast was sufficient at the time, and then I sallied forth. The tremendous pile could not be mistaken, although it disap- pointed me at first. The best views I could obtain of it in the city were from Ludgato Hill and St. Martin's-le-Grand, near the Post-Office. From other points no sight could be had sufficiently grand; a portion was all that could be seen, and that was limited. I wended my way through old and uninviting streets to the Thames, and soon gained a position on Blackfriar's Bridge, from which a fine prospect was presented. The dome rose in peerless grandeur above the surrounding dwellings, and appcan>d to gaze down upon them with a consciousness of its glorious proportions and immense altitude; but it was black and dingy. The coal OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 85 smoke has penetrated the porous stone, and discolored it horribly. The statues of the apostles which adorn the exterior of the edi- jBce are considerably worn by the action of the weather, and the whole of the giant structure without, looks, to one who has been accustomed to fine white buildings, as if it had recently suffered from the smoke of a long- continued neighboring fire, and no effort had been made to clean it. But the splendid edifice attests the magnitude of the mind of its originator, and gives evidence of his genius. When you look up to its stupendous dome, a feeling of awe comes over you, and you are disposed to glorify the man whose brain conceived it. The every-day passer regards it not; but the stranger — he who comes thousands of miles to behold it — gazes with admiration, and goes away with its form indelibly stamped on his memory, and an opinion of the godlike powers of man impressed upon his mind, of which he never dreamed before. It is a triumphant achievement of art; and well may England be proud of the gem. The interior is impressive and grand; the dome vaults above the spectator like another sky, and the admi- rable proportions and uniformity of design of every portion please and elevate the mind. I sauntered into the vast structure with feelings akin to rever- ence, and felt a thrill of admiration shoot through my frame when I gazed upwards to the cupola. Sir James Thornhill's famous paintings were scarcely perceptible, and the figures were indistinct, but the architecture was all sublime. Sir Christopher's works stand to this day as firm and beautiful as when first erected, and time adds to their grandeur. But why not keep them clean ? Dust covers the capitals within, and there is not one of the many splendid statues in St. Paul's that is not shrouded in the same material. Crowds of people were there gazing upon the splendid sculpture, and vergers were pointing out the monuments of the distinguished to strangers; but no one could tell why the dust was suffered to accumulate on the figures of marble, the Corinthian capitals, and along the galleries and stairs. It is said that the cathedral was paid for by a tax On every chaldron of coal brought into London during the time of its construction; and it deserves to 8 86 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; wear, as it does, a smoky coat without, and a dusty one within. It looks as though the tax were still collected, in kind. The monuments are numerous and generally classic and elegant, but the inscriptions are not all truthful. General Ross, who was killed at Baltimore, is stated to have fallen in a successful attack on the American lines, which is a sUyht deviation from the actual facts of the case, as every schoolboy on our side of the Atlantic knows. The crypt contains the graves of Nelson, Collingwood, and a host of England^s distinguished painters, among which is that of Benjamin West. Divine service is performed daily in the choir and chapel, but the attendance is never large, the choristers and officials gene- rally greatly outnumbering the congregation. During the Exhi- bition, the visitors, who were in the building at the time of service, usually remained, but they were indifferent to the ceremonies, and only curious as to the music and beauties of the choir. The boys engaged in chanting were talented, and sang sweetly, but not much can be said for their behavior or respect for the sanctuary in which they stood. Some of them were exceedingly ill-behaved, and quite unfit, so far as conduct went, for the solemn duties required of them. Westminster Abbey and Poet's Corner have more attractions for me than any other places in Europe, excepting the Eternal City. I felt peculiar sensations of pleasure in treading their sacred precincts. The monuments of so many persons of distinc- tion as there meet the eye are to bo seen nowhere else in Eng- land ; and the halo shed over those tombs by both the living and the dead has given the place a celebrity as wide as the confines of earth; There repose, within a few paces of each other, the remains of men who have shed undying lustre on the literature of Great Britain, and the genius of sculpture and poesy has been taxed to adorn their tombs. The ashes of Addison rest undisturbed in the same aisle in Henry the Seventh's chapel where repose those of Queen Elizabeth, an evidence of the high appreciation the English people have for him who reflected and wrote so well upon the lesson one learns in contemplating the tombs of the great. The OR, WANDERTNaS OP AN AMERICAN. 87 dusty monuments of long- forgotten heroes, and men of warlike distinction of former ages, had no attractions for me. They, like the ashes of those whose memories they were erected to commemo- rate, are mouldering into dust, and their inscriptions are becoming illegible. In the south aisle of Henry the Seventh's chapel is a gorgeous tomb over the remains of Mary, Queen of Scots, while in the adjoining aisle, to the north, under a splendid monument, moulder those of her tyrannical and imperious persecutor, Eliza- beth. Charles the Second is buried in a vault near the last resting- place of the unfortunate Mary, and the ashes of William of Orange and his queen mingle with those of the "Merry Monarch." The sculpture in Poet's Corner is generally most excellent. That to Addison, Gray, Thomson, Milton, and Shakspeare ap- peared to be the best. Busts of Southey and Dryden beautify the place, and an admirable tablet to the memory of that great scholar. Goldsmith, attracts attention. Immediately above it is a glorious stained window, the most superb in London. The in- scriptions are various, and some of them labored. One, on the tomb of Gay, written by himself, struck me as too trifling : — <'Life is a jest, and all things show it; I thought so once, and now I know it." The statue of the Bard of Avon holds a scroll in one hand, on which are engraved those beautiful lines from the Tempest — <'The cloud-capped 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." How appropriate and how true! The reflecting man might pass hours in contemplation among the tombs of Westminster Abbey ; but it would be folly and presumption in me to attempt to moralize in a place about which Addison and Irving have written so well. The other monuments are numerous, but beyond a splendid statue to Mrs. Siddons, and one to her celebrated brother, John Kemble, there are but few deserving mention on account of those 88 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; they are erected to immortalize, and they are chiefly meritorious only as works of art. The " Tower of London" is one of the lions of the city, and no man is a true traveller unless he visits it. The first thing you meet with in that celebrated place is a demand for a shilling, after the payment of which, you are handed over to the care of one of a dozen burly fellows, called by the Londoners "beef- eaters," who are dressed in the costume of soldiers of the days of Henry the Seventh. Myself and companion were shown through the galleries of armor, where there was a large quantity of implements of war, ancient and modern, and a host of figures of men and horses in suits of mail. We visited the cells of Sir "Walter Ra- leigh and Lady Jane Grey, and were shown the axe which severed the heads of the three Scottish lords from their bodies for taking part in the rebellion raised by the Pretender in 1745. The block on which they were beheaded was also exhibited, and the cells in which they were imprisoned. We saw several inscriptions in the dungeons, which had been made by those incarcerated there, and entered one of the gloomy abodes. The prisons of Anne Boleyn and the Earl of Essex were shown us, and the world-renowned place of execution, on which spot some of the worst and some of the best blood of England has been poured out. The graves of the victims are in and around the chapel, within the walls, but of late years the inscriptions on the tombs have been removed ; the acts they recorded being considered disgraceful to the nation. Tower Hill, from which the people formerly witnessed the pun- ishment of state criminals, is still an open space, commanding a full view of the former place of execution. The room in which the crown jewels are kept is in one of the new towers, built since the fire a few years ago. An old woman has charge of the treasures, and it is her duty to describe them to visitors. In a space less than two feet square there is jewelry valued at £3,000,000, or nearly $15,000,000. The crowns are splendid, and that of Victoria sparkles with precious stones. The English are very proud of the show, and take great delight in OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 89 witnessing the astonishment of foreigners who express surprise and admiration at the value and splendor of the regal baubles. The buildings of London are far from attractive. The most celebrated edifices look black and disfigured, and many of them are so covered with dust and smoke as to make them appear to great disadvantage. The Bank of England and Post-Office look fine on paper; but, when viewed as they are, they have but few attractions. The greater part of the houses are built of a coarse yellowish-brown brick, and not one of them will compare favora- bly with the dwellings of Philadelphia or New York. The " West End," renowned the world over, as the most superb part of the city, is as dingy in many places as the large warehouses in the business parts of our large cities. Kegent Street, reputed to be the finest thoroughfare in England, is not remarkable for beauty, and if it were not for the semicircular form it takes at the point known as the Quadrant, would compare unfavorably with Broad- way in the Empire City. The smoke blackens every structure, and destroys what, in a clear atmosphere, would be regarded as splendid. The principal edifices are constructed of Portland stone, a species of white granite, inferior in point of wear to our coarsest marble, and quite easily soiled. These remarks apply more par- ticularly to the older parts of London. The Tunnel is the most remarkable work about London, and well worth a lengthened visit. It is used only for foot-passen- gers, and those are mostly strangers who visit out of curiosity. One thoroughfare is closed, and at a particular part partitioned off into a room, in which balls are given on specified evenings. The arches leading from one passage to the other are occupied with stands for the sale of fancy and useful articles, and at each entrance- shaft there are exhibitions of pictures. The view along the ave- nues is very fine, and as the walls are white and the passages are brilliantly lighted with gas, the effect is both strange and pleasing when the way is thronged with people. The Tunnel is twelve hundred feet long, and as it extends some distance on either side of the river, a person, from this fact, can form a tolerable idea of 8* 90 THE FOOTPATH AND niGHW AY ; the width of Father Thames, a stream by no means so contempt- able as Americans pretend to regard it. The British Museum contains an immense collection of speci- mens of two of the natural Kingdoms — Animal and Mineral — and it is also rich in ancient and modern art. The Elgin and other marbles are numerous; but I do not see the utility of dragging the broken fragments of Grecian temples to the metropolis of Britain, and converting them into a show. The classic ruins of that great land should be permitted to moulder on her hills and among her deserted cities. It may be excusable to dig from the earth the remains of the proud city of Nineveh, and take them to the capital of a nation devoted to Christianity, as an evidence of the accuracy of the Scriptures ; but many of the splendid edifices of the land of Homer still face the storms and gales of the ^gean Sea, and there all the products of the chisel of that immortal land should be per- mitted to remain. Near London Bridge is the monument erected to commemorate the great fire of 1665. It rises to the height of 202 feet, and is built of Portland stone. The inscriptions are in Latin, and quite lengthy. The one charging the origin of the conflagration to the Catholics of that day has been erased some years, Pope's cutting lines having done much to remove the slander : — *' Where London's column, pointing at the skies, Like a tall bully lifts its head, and lies !" The view from the top is not very fine, and scarcely repays a per- son for climbing up three hundred and eleven steps. The old localities celebrated on account of some remarkable event are but little known to the citizens of London, and the stranger who has studied the literature of England, and the lives of her distinguished authors, is likely to know more of the his- tory of particular places than one born in the city. Numbers of the inhabitants who are now old have never been in the Tower, or St. Paul's, and but few can point out the locality of the famous T} burn. Little Britain, once the residence of pub- OR, WANDERINGS Or AN AMERICAN. 91 lisliers and booksellers, is changed, and Paternoster Kow en- joys its honorable trade. It was one of the many London homes of Milton, and our Franklin lodged in it during his first stay in the metropolis. He then worked as a journeyman printer in Palmer's printing-office, at Bartholomew's Close, near at hand. Grub Street, a name once associated with everything vile in literature, has suffered an extraordinary change, and at present is called after the author of Paradise Lost. This is bespattering the sublime with the ridiculous most unaccountably, and chang- ing all that is base and low in the literary world to all that is ennobling and grand. I visited St. Giles' Church, Cripple Gate, the burial-place of Milton, and of Fox, the author of the Book of Martyrs. It is a dingy old building, in an ancient part of the city, and remarkable for being the church in which Oliver Crom- well was married. Not far from my residence, which was in Little Britain, is Bunhillfields Burial-Ground, the receptacle of the dead during the ravages of the great plague of 1665. Defoe, the author of Robinson Crusoe, and historian of that terrible calamity, is buried there, in the spot whose horrors he described so graphically; and in the same place reposes all that is mortal of John Bunyan, the author of the " Pilgrim's Progress." The tombs in this renowned charnel are so numerous that it appears impossible to find room for another grave. I never saw so many in one spot before. Bunyan was buried in the vault of a friend in whose house he died, and the tomb over his grave has been so much worn by the action of the weather as to obliterate the in- scriptions placed there when it was erected. In one side of the structure a marble tablet has been inserted, on which is inscribed *^Mr. John Bunyan, Author of the Pilgrim's Progress, Obit. 31 August, 1688. Mt. 60." Other persons of celebrity are interred there, among whom are George Fox, the founder of the sect of Quakers, and Susannah Wesley, mother of John Wesley, the founder of Methodism • and Dr. Watts, the Christian poet, whose hymns are sung wherever the English language is spoken. Gray's Inn Fields, in olden times the fashionable promenade of a summer's evening, is now one of the most secluded retreats in London. The square is situate in the heart of the metropolis. 92 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; and one of the approaches is through Fulwood's Rents, now the squalid habitation of some of London's most miserable poor. The days of the " Tattler" and "Spectator" are gone; but the walks in Gray's Inn Fields are as pleasant now as they were when Addi- son and his contemporaries were accustomed to enjoy themselves, under the bending boughs of the oaks and elms which shade that green retreat. The public gardens and squares of the great city, aside from the parks, are numerous, and at the fashionable or West End mostly abound. I have walked for miles around and through these pleasant places, and always found them welcome resorts. Portman, Cavendish, Grosvenor, Berkley, and Leicester Squares arc all worthy a visit for their beauty, and the admirable order in which they are kept. Connaught Square, the Tyburn of old, is one of the prettiest places of residence in the modern Babylon. It was there that the bones of Cromwell were exposed and hung in chains, after they were torn from Henry the Seventh's Chapel in Westminster Abbey, and on that spot the Maid of Kent was burned for disputing with some divines upon a point of doctrine. During a visit to Hyde Park, I had a iook at Prince Albert and the Queen. They were in an open carriage drawn by four cream-colored horses, and attended by outriders and couriers in advance. The Queen is a homely little woman, with an amiable expression of countenance, and not much like the portraits we see of her. Her husband is one of the finest-looking men in England, of easy, graceful manners, and a face indicative of a well cultivated mind devoid of ambition. Ho does not exhibit any marks of care, but on the contrary looks the very picture of happi- ness and content. Among the English people he is highly es- teemed, and without the cares of state or the enmity of political opponents, he enjoys the love and confidence of the nation. The crowds in the park showed great respect to the royal couple, which was acknowledged by frequent bows from the prince. Whitehall, the palace in former days of the English kings, and the place whore Charles the First was executed, is now but little used, and only interesting on account of its historical asso- ciations. In the court-yard there is a bronze statue of James the Second, as great a tyrant as his father, and who ought to have OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 93 shared the same fate, " without the reputation of a martyr." It was in front of the building to the north that Charles lost his head, and by authentic statements it appears that the scaffold was erected before the building facing the present Horse Guards, and the king was led to execution through a window of the Banqueting House, which is pointed out to this day. The palace has suffered by fire on several occasions, and has not been used for a royal residence for some years. ^ The Royal Exchange, Cornhill, is the most chaste building in London of modern construction. In this edifice are the celebrat- ed mercantile rooms of the Lloyds. The list of American news- papers on file there is meagre in the extreme, there not being more than three or four in all, and not one of them from Phila- delphia. In the vestibule at the head of the stairs, leading to these rooms, are two or more fine statues, and in the wall of the same apartment is a tablet erected to commemorate the public spirit and zeal of the proprietors of the London ''Times,'' in ex- posing a great commercial fraud a few years since. Westminster Hall, in Palace Yard, is one of the most re- nowned buildings in the world. It is two hundred and ninety feet in length and sixty-eight feet in breadth, and the roof is sup- ported without a single column. It is highly ornamented with carved oak and chestnut, and the view from one extreme to the other is most imposing. It was within its walls that Charles Stuart, tyrant of England, was convicted and sentenced to die. There Sir William Wallace, Sir Thomas More, and the Earl of Strafford were condemned and doomed to the scaffold; and in that hall Oliver Cromwell was inaugurated Lord Protector of England. Warren Hastings was tried there; and there the head of Cromwell was raised on a pole, after his remains had been torn from the grave, and beside it were placed the skulls of Ireton and Bradshaw, as an evidence of the attachment of the British people to royalty, and their hatred of him who had raised their country from a mere dependency to a position where it was feared and respected by the nations of the earth. It is now the vestibule to the new Houses of Parliament, and on special occasions it is used 94 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J as a banaueting-room by the royal family and nobility of the realm. Guildhall, the principal scat of city legislation in London, is famous for two enormous wooden statues of frightful appearance, called Gog and Magog. There is also a very good marble statue of the celebrated Lord Mayor Beckford, represented in the act of politely bearding George the Third. On a tablet under the figure « is a scroll, on which is engraved the speech delivered on that occa- sion to the king. On the ninth of July, 1851, her Majesty, the Queen of the British realms, honored the city of London with a visit to Guildhall, at which place a ball was given by the Lord Mayor, in celebration of the Great Exhibition. For some days previously preparations were begun for the royal reception, and at night the streets which formed the line of procession were one blaze of light. The Horse Guards were placed along the line to aid the police in keeping the way clear and preserving order, and hundreds of thousands of people were out to witness the show. I stood in Cheapside, near St. Paul's, to see the gracious sovereign pass, and at about half-past nine her approach was announced. There were seven carriages in the train, each one adorned with gilding in profusion; and servants in costly livery, with gold laced cocked hats, hung like ornaments to the glittering chariots. The Queen and the Prince consort occupied the last one in the retinue, which was surrounded by a detachment of the Horse Guards, who made a splendid show in their glittering armor and uniforms. The carriages passed so rapidly that it was next to impossible to see her Majesty, and, as I had been favored with a look at her on a previous occasion, I was not disappointed. The utmost enthusiasm prevailed among her loyal subjects, and when she made her appearance many of them testified their admiration and loyalty by taking off their hats, while others were busily en- gaged in picking pockets, as the police records of the next day clearly showed. Bow-bells and the chime in St. Paul's rang merrily out during the evening, and the music of their peals was heard above the roar of the sounding streets of London. The foolish custom of closing the gates of Temple Bar, and requiring the monarch to knock for admission, was omitted on this occasion OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 95 for the first time for many years. The Arcli is the only remain- ing bar of the many which once adorned the walls of London. It is at the point where Fleet Street and the Strand join, and the western boundary of the city. In olden days it was there that the heads of criminals were placed after execution. CHAPTER VIII. LONDON THOROUGHFARES — SOCIETY — THE PARKS — ^'THE world's fair.'' The streets of the metropolis are almost constantly crowded with vehicles and pedestrians ; nor does this remark apply only to those thoroughfares in the fashionable or business parts of the city. In rambling about London, a person will meet a continuous tide of people, and the cross streets are nearly as much traversed as the main avenues. The population is immense, and the num- ber of strangers very great, so that nearly all places of amusement are well attended. Omnibuses are countless, and run from an early hour in the morning until long after midnight; and as they branch off from central points to every important suburb and neighboring village, intercourse between the business portions of London and the metropolitan boroughs is rapid and cheap. They are substantially built conveyances; nor would it do to have them slight, as they would be jarred to pieces soon if they were- Each one has a driver and conductor, both of whom are absolutely required, in consequence of the construction of the 'busses, and the amount of travel by them. There are seats on top as well as inside, and many prefer the outside in clear weather, because of the opportunities it affords for observation. There is but little observance of the Sabbath in London by the working classes — that being as much of a gala-day there as in New Orleans. Omnibuses, steamboats, and railways give the tired denizens of the unfashionable portions a conveyance to the coun- 96 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J try, where they can breathe the fresh air, and enjoy the clear sun- shine. Omnibuses, cabs, and private carriages are more numerous in some parts of the city on that day than any other, and although business is suspended generally, the hurry and bustle going on in the streets do not convey to the mind of the stranger much evi- dence of the day being the Sabbath. All go civilly on, however, and personal encounters or disturbances are of rare occurrence, the police being sufficient to intimidate the riotously inclined. The parks of London deserve the attention of the stranger as much as any other objects of interest in the metropolis. The largest ones are not so beautiful as some of those with fewer acres, but all are splendid resorts. The trees are large, and as they are principally oaks and elms, their branches extend so as to form leafy arcades for a great distance. People are permitted to ramble over the grass, and it is not unusual to see them lying down under the trees, reading, or asleep. Care has been taken in the arrange- ment of the oaks and elms, and they are mostly planted at given distances apart, in' a straight line, thus forming an arbor of great beauty. Of a Sunday evening, Kensington Gardens is thronged with the citizens of the West End, and as it is decidedly the finest park in London, it is the most resorted to. Hyde Park is attached to the gardens, but it is not so well cared for. It is the fashionable resort of the " exclusives'' of the metropolis, and one part is ap- propriated solely to equestrians, while another is used for carriages. The display at the customary hour is great. Ladies are as nume- rous as gentlemen, and liveried servants outnumber even them. The road for equestrians is usually crowded to excess, and it would embarrass one to tell how a lady finds enjoyment in such a thronged thoroughfare, on horseback. Before the fashionable hour arrives, if the weather is dry, water is sprinkled along the road to lay the dust, but the mud created in that way appeared to mc to be worse than any dust possibly could be. The horses are splashed with it, and not unfrequently the ladies and gentlemen. The carriages are usually attended by two servants, dressed in livery, mounted on the box, or one on the box and the other hanging on behind like an ornament. These men arc generally good looking; but their want of independence, as exhibited in their dress, is re- OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 97 pulsive. They are to bo met in every variety of outlandish cos- tume, from yellow coats and cocked hats, trimmed with gold lace, red short-clothes, and powdered wigs, down to genteel black, and neatly tied white cravats, and cockades pinned to their hats. In some instances, a person will meet a lady and gentleman on horseback riding leisurely along, while at a short distance behind, mounted on a fine horse, follows one of those liveried menials, with about as much spirit as a whipped cur. Several times I have seen them asleep on their carriages, in front of the door of a princely mansion, or while waiting in line at Regent's Park. Cattle and sheep in great numbers are frequently seen in the principal parks, and oftentimes there are as many as eight or nine thousand sheep pasturing at once in one of those inclosures. The Zoological Gardens in the last-named ground are kept in admirable order, and the collection of animals is both extensive and various. There are specimens of natural history from every section of the world, and it is a matter of surprise that animals from warm climates live and thrive so well in English air as those do in Regent's Park. The hippopotamus and " uran utan" (as they will have the orthography of the name) appear to exist there as healthfully as they do in their native climes. In our tour of observation, we discovered several acquaintances from our side of the Atlantic, not the least familiar of which was that perti- nacious and eccentric "Old 'Coon." Poor fellow! he looked thin and downcast, English fogs by no means agreeing with his con- stitution. Saturday afternoon is a favorite time, among the wealthy and titled, for visiting the Zoological Gardens, and then and there the stranger has an opportunity of seeing the refined society of Lon- don. Good conduct, gentle behavior, and suavity of manner characterize the gentlemen, and all that contributes to the eleva- tion of female character is discoverable in the ladies. The mem- bers of noble families have little or none of that affected pomp about them that distinguishes the upstart and imitative apes of aristocracy ; and it requires but a small amount of penetration on the part of the observer to discover who is the real and who the spurious noble. The imitation nearly always exposes his vul- 9 98 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGUWAY ; garity, while the genuine ever exhibits the breeding of a true gentleman. Among the ladies in the gardens at the time of our visit, there were some of remarkable beauty, and nearly all of them were fine figures. The band of one of the favorite regiments was present, and per- formed many splendid pieces in masterly style. The presence of that musical corps always attracts a large company to the Zoolo- gical Gardens. The great metropolis is a Pandemonium ! The noise of its streets is eternal, and the throngs which pour down its roaring thoroughfares are continual. I have wandered over and around it, from the splendid mansions of the West End to the abodes of squalid wretchedness and crime in Spitalfields and Shoreditch. There is every variety of life within its limits, from the highest to the lowest, and people of every nation and clime. The two ex- tremes of the immense city are admirable illustrations of the con- dition of the aristocracy, and of the degraded and ignorant poor. The one is all splendor, and the apparent abode of content; the other a den of misery and want. Thousands of strangers visit London, and confine themselves to Regent Street, Piccadilly, and Oxford Road, without even thinking of Whitechapel or the more wretched localities in the neighborhood of Iloundsditch. When a man travels for information, he should see the high and low of society in the lands he visits, and then he will be better able to form opinions of the exact condition of a people. He who seeks grandeur may go to the palaces of the rich, and drink in inspira- tion by gazing upon the splendid productions of the pallet and the chisel; and, if he desires, he can lounge of an afternoon on the green sward of Regent's or Hyde Park, and witness a display of finery and aristocratic pomp not to be seen in any other section of the world in such grand array. If all the inhabitants of the over- grown city were in as good circumstances as those to bo met at these places on such occasions, then would London be a happy place, and the residents a contented people. But such is far from being the case. Take an afternoon walk, and follow Bishopsgatc Street to Shoreditch, turn oflf into White Lion Street, and follow up until you roach Grey Eagle and Wilkes Street, and a different 99 prospect from that witnessed in Hyde Park will meet^ your gaze. Silk of splendid color is there; but it is in the loom of the poor half-starved Spitalfields weaver, who works from dawn until near midnight over the costly fabric, for a miserable pittance, in a hovel of filth and wretchedness. There are no persons in livery there, no gold-fringed coats, or powdered wigs, but barefooted women and men, and human beings clothed in rags so tattered as to cause one to wonder how they are kept together. The streets are as filthy as the houses, and there is not a blade of grass or a park in the neighborhood. On one of the streets adjoining there is a school-house for the young, but compared with the Queen's stables it is a pigsty, and her Majesty's prancing horses receive more care and have better sleeping apartments than her loyal subjects in the unfashionable streets of Spitalfields. After the visitor has satisfied his curiosity in the localities named, let him return, and pass down Long Alley, a narrow passage about six feet wide, to the west of Bishopsgate Street, and there he will see another phase of life at the East End of the greatest city in the world, and then he may go to one of the parks at the fashionable part of the me- tropolis, but not with the favorable opinion of the people of Lon- don he entertained before visiting the classic quarter of Shoreditch. Misery, poverty, and want have always existed in large cities, and must continue under the present social system ; but, for all, much could be done to improve the condition of the poor of the English metropolis, if those who have it in their power to do so would only try. The customs of some of the people of the ^' wen of England," as Cobbett called it, are not such as we would desire to imitate. It is not unusual to see men walking the streets with ladies, and puffing the smoke of most abominable tobacco into the faces of their fair companions. The weed is not masticated as with us, and he who chews is not esteemed very highly, but cigar and pipe- smoking is common, and carried to great extremes. Gin-palaces abound throughout the city, and men and women resort to them in vast numbers. They are generally provided with two entrances ; one for those who drink the liquor on the premises, the other for those who purchase it for home use. The signs in- 100 form the public which is the "jug entrance," and which the com- mon reception-room, while the stranger, who is curious in such affairs, can learn that Mr. Smith, Wine and Spirit Merchant (they are all merchants), is licensed to sell rum in doses from a half-pennyworth to a gallon or more. Many women resort to these dens, and it is not unusual to see them drinking their half-and- half with as much gusto as the most practised male topers. The class usually found there is not of degraded persons such as we would expect to see, but those who have pretensions to respecta- bility in their sphere of life, and many of them are mechanics and small tradesmen. Ale, or beer, as it is commonly called, is the ordinary drink of the people. Water is not much used as a beve- rage, and the one who calls for a glass of that fluid in an eating- house in London is looked at with surprise. The water used in the metropolis for domestic purposes has a bad taste, and it is rea- sonable to conclude that much of the ale-drinking results from this fact. The habit of drinking spirituous and malt liquors is carried to great excess, and there are many families among the better or middle class of artisans and shopkeepers who keep gin and other alcoholic distillations in the house constantly. Gin and hot water, sweetened, is a very common beverage with that class, and it is not only drank by the men, but by women also. It is a house- hold drink on festive occasions or social gatherings, and all par- take of it. To give my readers some idea of the extent of the retail liquor trade in the metropolis, I will state that a publican, doing a snwil business in the city, informed me that he usually sold 5S0 galhms of gin in ten weeks nlonc, and otlior licjuors in proportion. His place was small, and he could count thirty gin-palaces beside his own in a circuit of a hundred yards around him. He paid nearly $18,000 for the stand ho occupies, with a lease of about forty years' duration. That is for the good-will 1 His rent and taxes amount to a considerable sum annually. The premiums demanded and paid for some of these establishments are enormous, and almost incredible. One of them was sold, while I was in London, for $40,000; and tho lease had but thirty years to run, after which 101 time the house will revert to the owner, unless the purchaser of the good- will and custom can get a renewal. This sum was paid as a premium ; the buyer is under an annual rent of $700, in ad- dition to his taxes and other expenses, and yet it was believed that he would realize money from the speculation ; and when we reflect that the poison is sold to poor wretches in penny and three- penny glasses, some idea can be formed of the intemperate habits of a large portion of the London poor, and the enormous profits of the venders of intoxicating drinks. The taxes imposed upon the English people by their rulers are heavy, but nothing in amount to those they impose upon themselves for rum. The churches of London, in earlier days, were the burial-places of distinguished persons, and there are but few of the old ones without monuments to eminent or celebrated individuals. Gold- smith is buried in Temple Churchyard. Lady Mary Wortley Mon- tague, the witty correspondent of Pope, and Wilkes, the dema- gogue, in the vault of Grosvenor Chapel, in South Audley Street; and Otway, the poet, in St. Clement's Danes, a church in the Strand, between Temple Bar and Charing Cross. Nell Gwynne, the originator of Chelsea Hospital; and James Smith, one of the authors of "Rejected Addresses,'^ are buried, among a num- ber of others, in St. Martin's-in-the-Fields, a very pretty building if it were possible to keep it clean. Every Friday the Charity Children of the Parish, male and female, sing anthems in the choir, and the music of their youthful voices is sweet enough to "Create a soul Under the ribs of Death." Among the multitude of places in London, having some little historic interest, is Smithfield Common, the spot where John Rogers was burned, and Sir William Wallace and the gentle Mortimer executed. Wat Tyler was killed there ; and a host of wretches suffered death on that spot by fagot and flame, for opinion's sake. Smith 6eld market-place is one of the filthiest parts of London. Parliament recently decided to remove the stalls, and provide a new inclosure for the sale of cattle. In front of the space, to the south, stands St. Bartholomew's Hoa- 9* 102 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; pital, founded in 1102; over the main entrance to which is a good statue of that royal bloodhound and memorable brute, Henry the Eighth. In 1849, during the digging for a new sewer, at the depth of three feet below the surface of the earth, the workmen laid open a mass of rough stones blackened as if by fire, and covered with ashes, and human bones charred and partially consumed. This was on the spot where the authorities used to cause the victims of persecution and bigotry to be put to death, and the remains found were, no doubt, those of persons who died by fire and fagot on this celebrated place of execution. Chelsea Hospital is situated on the Thames, about five miles from London Bridge, and, as the boats running to that institution pass under all the bridges, a good view is afforded from the river of many objects which cannot be seen to advantage from any other point. The houses, with very few exceptions, are built immediately on the river on both sides, leaving no space or wharves as with us. The new houses of Parliament are so situ- ated; as is also the famous Somerset House. The bridges are noble structures, with a single exception, at the city; but, as the stream lessens greatly in width as you approach Chelsea, the via- ducts become less imposing and less extensive. London Bridge is constantly filled with vehicles and pedestrians, making a con- tinuous stream from morning till night. The others are but very little loss traversed, and Southwark Iron Bridge and Blackfriars are always thronged with people. The view of the river from the deck of a steamer, looking down stream, is of a singular character. Probably no river in the world presents such a strange appearance for so great a distance. Prom below London Bridge, the Thames is literally swarming with craft of every de- scription known to the commercial and marine world, and it often puzzles the uninitiated how the little steamers which ply up and down the river manage to make their trips without being run into and sunk. Sometimes the space through which they are compelled to go is barely wide enough to admit them to pass, and yet they arc so admirably navigated that no accident of a serious OR, WANDERINaS OF AN AMERICAN. 103 character ever occurs. They are much crowded during clear wea- ther by excursionists to the different places on the stream. In company with an American friend, I made an agreeable trip to Chelsea, and although the Thames is both black and narrow, we saw many objects on shore, as we ascended, to interest us. Lambeth Palace, the ancient residence of the Archbishop of Canterbury, on the Surrey side, is noted for being the prison of the Lollards, the first Dissenters in the days of John Wickliffc, and that fact hallows the pile. Chelsea Hospital was founded by Nell G Wynne and Charles the Second for old and disabled Eng- lish soldiers, and at present there are several hundred supported in the institution*. In the chapel and hall a great many trophies are displayed which were taken in battle in different sections of the world by the British army, and I noticed a number of American flags among them. They were captured by the English at Bladens- burg and Washington in 1814, and although they are the only conquests made by British arms upon our soil, still it would be better that they were not where they are. The colors of other nations, however, adorn the walls, and some of Napoleon's proudest banners are exhibited as trophies from Waterloo. The old men are well provided for, and appear comfortable. They grumble for the want of something else to do, and as their days are short, and grumbling is the only thing they are fit for, they are permitted to indulge in that to their heart's content. The rapid increase of London, and its great extent, are proved by the fact that Chelsea Hospital, a few years ago, was out of town, while now the city extends considerably beyond it, and many of the finest residences in the metropolis are in that neigh- borhood. By the last census it appears that London has in- creased four hundred and thirteen thousand inhabitants in the past ten years. This extent is wonderful. From Nottinghill in the west, to Bow Common in the east, both of which are suburbs properly, is a distance of quite thirteen miles, the entire line of which is compactly built with dwellings, stores, churches, and other public edifices. Taking the number of miles above mentioned as the actual diameter of London, we find that the great city has a 104 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGnWAY ; circumfcrenco of nearly forty miles, which is rather below than above the real extent. Hammersmith is in fact a portion of the metropolis, as well as Ilighgate or Dalston, and add that to the diameter, and it will be found to be full sixteen miles. The National Gallery in Trafalgar Square contains some ex- quisite pictures, and is peculiarly worthy of examination, as pre- senting one of the best collections extant of the works of Rem- brandt. Lincoln's Inn, and the Inner Temple, the two celebrated legal schools of England, are attractive places. The hall of the Temple is adorned with some excellent oak carvings, and several old and valuable paintings, among which are portraits of four or five of the English monarchs. The Church of the Templars is the finest in London. The floors are elegantly inlaid with en- caustic tiles, and back of the altar there is a window of splendid stained glass. In the body of the building under the dome arc eight or ten tombs of Crusaders, the figures on which are in ex- cellent preservation ; some of them have the legs crossed, thereby indicating that the persons to whose memory they were erected were engaged in the wars in the Holy Land. The excursion down the Thames to Greenwich Hospital, and Woolwich Dock Yards and Arsenal, is a pleasant trip, affording an opportunity of seeing the river to good advantage. The stream is extremely crooked, and multitudes of vessels ride on its waters from London down to the sea. Woolwich Dock Yards are large ; and, as they are one of the most complete stations for constructing naval vessels in the empire, they are worthy a lengthened visit. The Arsenal is principally filled with heavy guns and ammuni- tion, there being comparatively few small-arms there. At Woolwich, in one of the churchyards, I noticed a singular monument, which curiosity prompted mo to examine. It is a pedestal surmounted by a colossal figure of a lion, sculptured in coarse marble, with one foot on the Champion's belt of Eng- land, and the head upraised, to represent the animal howling. The main inscription informs the reader that Thomas Crib, the boxer, lies under the stone; and below on a tablet is a line, call- ing upon the visitor to "Kospcct the ashes of the dead." The English people are greatly advanced in civilization, when they 105 thus honor sucli promoters of cnligbtcnment as Tom Crib, the brutal prize-fighter. Greenwich Hospital may with propriety be considered as within the pale of London now, as the buildings extend below it on both sides of the river. The parks attached to the institu- tion are large, and much resorted to by pleasure-seekers. The famous observatory stands on an eminence in the park, in the rear of the hospital, commanding an extended prospect of the country around. Hampstead and Highgate, two elevated points to the north of London, command extended views of the great city. The dome of St. Paul's, when seen from either place, appears to the greatest advantage, and every object of interest can be distinctly traced during a clear day. It was near Highgate that Whittington fancied he heard Bow-bells recalling him to the renowned me- tropolis ; and the spot whereon he stood at the time he listened to the mellowed notes of the distant chiming bells is now marked with a stone. Visits to such places recall to the mind of the traveller the dreams of his boyhood, and when I rested on the spot, I readily summoned before my mental sight my ideal form of the famous Lord Mayor, as he was when debating whether he should obey the summons of the bells and return to London, or not. The famous Horse Guards are a regiment of mounted men, who appear to be selected more on account of their fine figures and military bearing than for their prowess as soldiers. They wear a splendid uniform, with helmets of burnished steel, breast- plates of the same material, white leather short-clothes, deep scarlet-colored coats, high boots, and gauntlets. None of them are under six feet, and each flourishes a formidable mustache. They are mounted on fiery black chargers, and when exercising, present a magnificently warlike appearance. They are perma- nently stationed in London and at Windsor, and usually perform the duties of a body-guard, on state occasions, to the sovereign and Prince consort. Their quarters are in a building on Parlia- ment Street facing Whitehall, with a thoroughfare leading di- rectly into St. James's Park, and at each side of the entrance two mounted soldiers keep guard from ten until four o'clock. They 106 are among the attractions of London, and nearly always have a crowd of citizens around them when they assemble in numbers at their quarters. Military parades are frequent in the metropolis, and each morn- ing during the week one or more regiments exercise in Hyde Park. The men are, generally speaking, fine-looking fellows, clean and neat in appearance, and, when drilling, move with the precision of senseless machinery. Their showy uniforms, waving banners, glittering arms, and harmony of step, go to make up a splendid scene, and the stirring strains of their accomplished bands give the unmilitary beholder some idea of the pomp and circumstance of war. I often witnessed them on parade, and although by no means an advocate of that sort of Christian duty which recom- mends the cutting of other people's throats for the sake of peace, yet I must confess that I derived much pleasure from viewing the military displays in Hyde Park. The " Royal Mews," or Queen's stables, are among the London sights, and through the kindness of a friend, I visited them in company with some who were, like myself, curious to see her Majesty's horses. The royal state carriage was shown us first as a great curiosity, which it certainly is. It is large enough for a triumphal car, is ornamented with several carved figures of mon- sters and foliated scrolls, and covered profusely with gilding. When used, it is drawn by eight of the finest horses in the world, of a cream color, and as fiery as the coursers of Phaeton of old. The stables are capacious, admirably ventilated, and kept scru- pulously clean. The number of animals is about one hundred, all of which are in the best possible condition. In one department there were sixteen or twenty stallions, one-half of which were black, the others cream color, and all seemingly spirited in the extreme, though intensely lazy in the open air. On my expressing a fear of their running away with her Majesty, tlie groom said there was no danger of that, as they never did so, but lay down instead, and when they once did get down were quite indifferent about rising until it suited themselves. • Among those in another section of the building was a splendid full-blooded Arabian horse, sent, as a present to Prince Albert, OR, WANDERINGS Or AN AMERICAN. 107 from the East Indies. He is a noble animal, of beautiful figure, and possesses all the agility and swiftness of a true oriental courser. Among the many strange customs which attract the stranger's attention in London, not the least remarkable are the funerals. They are attended by mutes dressed in black, with long scarfs streaming from their hats, and wands wreathed with crape in their hands. The hearses are huge affairs, ornamented with waving plumes, and drawn by horses black as jet, draped in cloth of the same hue. Mourners follow clothed in the robes of grief, and ex- hibiting a vast amount of apparent woe; but, when close examina- tion is made, it is discovered that the heart-broken and sorrowful train is composed of men hired for the occasion, and that there are but few, if any, relatives there, it being considered neither fash- ionalble nor respectable for the kindred to follow the dead to the grave. Burials are not so frequent in the cities as formerly, and although there are too many even now in London, the practice of intermural interment is very unpopular. The graves in most of the churchyards of the metropolis are indifferently cared for. There is no attention paid to keeping them in order. The gravestones are flat, and serve the double purpose of a flagged way and memorials for the dead. Fragments of tombstones, with partially defaced inscriptions, lie about the yards promiscuously, and are treated with as little respect as the memories of those to whom they were erected. There is a custom, peculiarly English, which, to my liking, is worthy of our imitation, and that is the habit of erecting tablets in the churches to the memory of the departed. These tributes to worth are usually placed in the walls of the chancel, the aisles, or choir of the edifice, and many of them are exquisitely designed and sculptured. The inscriptions on the older ones are generally prosy and trite, but those of more recent date are brief and pointed. The American takes an interest in these records and monuments, and I often found myself reading over the epitaphs upon them when I should have been attending to the discourse of the clergy- man. There is something solemn and appropriate, according to 108 my way of thinking, about them, placed where they are : solemn, because they remind us that we must die j and appropriate, be- cause the memory of the loved and just should be kept green in our hearts when we meet in the temple of God. There is scarcely a place of worship in London, Dissenting or State, but has some of these memorials attached to its walls ; and T was often interested in reading the records upon them. Once, while walking along Lombard Street, I observed the door of St. Mary Woolnoth open, and as it is one of the old churches, my curiosity prompted me to enter, nor did I regret my determination. A tablet attracted my attention, and on perusing the inscription, I discovered that it was to the memory of John Newton, the friend of Cowper. He was for twenty-eight years rector of St. Mary's, and his history, as recorded on the stone, is as follows : — '* Jolin Newton, clerk, once an infidel and libertine, a servant of slaves in Africa, was, by the rich mercy of our Lord iind Saviour Jesus Christ, preserved, restored, pardoned, and appointed to preach the faith he had long labored to destroy." While speaking of old churches, I may be permitted to give some further information here respecting others, before unnoticed. There arc as many as twelve or fifteen in the vicinity of St. Paul's, and each has attractions, either in an architectural or his- torical point of view, or both. One of them, called All Hallows, is famous as being the baptismal place of Milton, or rather on the site of the church in which he was baptized, that edifice being destroyed in the great fire. A stone bearing an inscription, set- ting forth the facts, and on which is engraved some information respecting the birthplace of the poet, is placed in the church wall at the corner of the street in which be first saw the light. In the same vicinity, but nearer to London Bridge, is St. Swithin's London Stone, so named in consequence of a stone, said to be the oldest in the metropolis, which is built into the wall facing Can- non Street, and so placed as to allow the curious the liberty of touching it. It is supposed to bo what was once a Koman mile- stone, and the throne on which Jack Cado swore that tho conduit should '^ruu nothing but claret wiue this first year of our reign." OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 109 The authorities protect it from mutilation, and the curious rever- ence and visit it. The " Great Exhibition" is now numbered among the things of the past, but it will be a subject of comment and laudation for ages yet to come. During its continuance, London was a miniature world, so far as the varieties of the human race are concerned; and its increase of population drawn from every part of the habitable globe was beyond positive estimate. Hyde Park was the grand centre where foreigners then met, and representa- tives from almost every land were to be seen there on certain occasions. Such a variety of the human family as was then assembled in the British metropolis was probably never before convened in the world's history, and it was a proud thing for Englishmen to reflect that the gathering of the delegates of earth's • nations in their capital was for purposes of peace, and the advance- ment of science and useful manufactures. The assembling of the tribes of men on such an occasion was a grand event, and its peaceful tendencies will be felt in all climes in coming ages. It afforded opportunity for interchange of civilities, on the part of the individual members of remote nations, far different from the cold, formal commingling of diplomatists and official representa- tives, such as take place between peoples through their rulers and servants. It was, in truth, a congress of the great family of man, where the swarthy Numidian and fair Caucasian; subtle Chinese and austere Spaniard; scholastic German and mercurial Frank; keen Scot and irascible Hibernian; embrowned Hindoo and serf- born Kussian; emancipated Egyptian and thoughtful Turk; Pa- cific Islander and wily Savage ; wealth-loving Englishman and dauntless, inventive American, met as equals, to exhibit the pro- ducts of their genius, their labor, and their climes; and learn to know each other, so that the ties which bind our common race together might be drawn more tightly by the silver chains of peace. I was in London a considerable time before I determined upon a visit to the then great centre of attraction, the Crystal Palace. Vague "and undefined idesifs of its internal grandeur were 10 110 THE FOOTPATH' AND HIGHWAY; created and destroyed in my mind ; but of all the conceptions I formed none equalled the reality. The fairy structure was the greatest curiosity connected with the display. It was sublime in every feature, and gorgeous in its grandeur. Harmony was blended in its proportions, and beauty and symmetry in its lines and airy form. It possessed magnitude without the power to weary; and magnificence with simplicity. The lofty and imposing transept was a noble feature of the structure, and the lengthened naves died away in perspective like sweet music softly floating into distance. It would be vain to attempt a detailed description of the great attractions of the display. The vast edifice was converted into a receptacle of the products of man's ingenuity and skill; and there was scarcely an article of elegance and invention known, but was irepresentcd there. India and China contributed specimens of the gorgeous fabrics of the eastern loom ; and the far islands of the sea sent their manufactures. Egypt, Syria, Persia, Arabia, and the once Holy Land, but now the Moslem's home, exhibited the skill of their respective peoples in arts and works of beauty. Austria showered exquisite gems in profusion before the eye of the beholder; and tasteful France spread out lavishly the splendid products of her looms, her genius, and her cunning hand. Every country in the civilized or half civilized world displayed its manufactures; and the combined collection constituted, in itself, a tangible history of the industry, ingenuity, and productive skill of man for ages. From the hour of admission in the morning until the heavy bell proclaimed the time for closing the aisles, the galleries and the halls of the spacious edifice were thronged with human beings, intent upon the glories of the place, and absorbed in the splendors of the display. Seventy, eighty, yes ! even one hundred thousand beings were assembled there on one day ; and the noise of their voices and movements went up like theg'oar of the sounding sea. Order reigned supreme ; all was peace, all cheerfulness and en- tranced attention. The sunlight streamed in subdued rays througli the crystal vault, and fell sweetly on fabrics rich as gold or of Tyrian purple dye. The products of the chisel adorned the aisles OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. Ill and naves ; and fountains sent up tides of gushing waters. The richest works of man were arranged in profusion, and the im- mense palace had the appearance of a creation not of earth. A view of surpassing grandeur was spread before him who gazed down from the transept galleries on the moving mass below. The great arch sprang like a silver bow aloft, while the symmetrical naves swept softly away into dim distance. Along the sides of the galleries, like the gay banners of a countless host, hung the most gorgeous and costly products of the loom, and the eye feasted on their glorious hues, and took in their beauties; and glanced over the busy mass below, mingling and commingling in apparent confusion, yet moving and changing without discord, or tumultuous sound. Colossal figures in bronze, splendid groups in marble, exquisite fountains and classic temples encountered the sight in its range, and carried the mind captive with the magnitude and sublimity of the display. Viewed from such a point, the crystal palace exhibited a scene of unparalleled gran- deur, and exceeding splendor, and left its impress indelibly upon the soul. Its very magnificence awed the mind, and defied the power that would attempt its representation by words ; the paint- er's art quailed before it, and when the imitation came from his hands, it was but the dead, cold shadow of the once triumph- ant and gorgeous reality. Such an exhibition of the skill of man was never witnessed be- fore, and many cycles must roll on ere another can be accomplish- ed. The English people are content with the one, and take the glory of its conception and successful termination to themselves, fully satisfied with the result, and with the honors it yielded. My visits to it were frequent, and always rewarded with pleasure. The last time I was there, I lingered until the close of the day, and felt reluctant to bid farewell. The great organ in the eastern nave was filling the magnificent pile with tides of melodious sound, and nearly seventy thousand souls listened to its tones. After performing a number of sacred compositions, the organist drew from the tubes of his powerful instrument the thrilling notes of England's national anthem, " God save the Queen;" and as the sounds quivered in the air, and began to roll 112 THE FOOTrATH AND HTGnWAY ; in waves through the aisles of the vast edifice, the voices of seventy thousand human beings were blended with them, and rang like a wild hallelujah of praise to heaven. Each individual sang as if his soul were in the strain, and the enthusiasm of the throng heightened the grandeur of the incident, and sublimity of the hymn. The chorus ceased with the words, but the sounds still waved and rolled through the nave and transept, until, like softly beating surges of a subsiding sea on the sandy shore, they died in gentle murmurs in the far distance ; and then, as the assem- blage departed, darkness and silence resumed their reign. CHAPTER IX. RAMBLES AND REFLECTIONS IN LONDON. There are innumerable places in the great city made cele- brated for having been the residences of renowned men, and the stranger, curious about such things, can frequently employ his time advantageously by looking them out. Who that is acquainted with English literature would not like to see the spot whereon Will's Coffee-House stood, or the walls which sheltered Goldy and the other members of the Club ? Some of the old houses have been removed long since, but their localities are distinctly marked to this day, and there is pleasure in knowing that you have been at the precise spot. Button's, and Will's, and Tom's, were all near each other, on Kussell Street, Co vent Garden, and I took the trouble to indulge my prying propensities, and seek out their celebrated localities. Will's is now a gin-palace, and not remarkable either for good liquor or genteel company. It is at, or near the corner of Bow Street and Kussell Street; but the people in the immediate neighborhood know nothing of its former celebrity, nor is the landlord awnre that it was in time past the most popular resort of great men in London. Tom's is the house on the north side of the street, No. 17. 113' At present it is occupied by a provision-dealer, and he appears to know nothing of its history. There are two pedestals over the shop front, on one of which is a bust of one of the Roman Emperors — the other being vacant. Reference is frequently made to this house in the writings of distinguished men in the days of Queen Anne, and it was in it that Pope's " Essay on Criticism' ' was first published. On the other side of the street, almost facing the house just named, is the site of Button's Coffee-House, once the resort of Pope, Addison, Colley Gibber, Ambrose Phillips, and others equally distinguished. The house took its name from one Button, who had been a servant in the family of the Countess of Warwick, and continued to be a resort of the wits of the day until Addison's death. It is now scarcely ever looked for, and the pork butcher who occupies it cares nothing about its former celebrity. Will's, however, was the most famous place of its day, and I felt angry to see it converted into a shop for the sale of gin and ale by the pennyworth. Great Dryden was wont to resort there, and all the bright intellectual stars of his time shone brilliantly within those walls ; but now things are changed, and low women, grimy sweeps, and coal-dealers drink their " half-and- half in the desecrated hall of Will's Coffee-House. The neigh- borhood is no longer fashionable as a residence, nor does the world-renowned Covent Garden Theatre attract large audiences at this time. It is called the Italian Opera, and no longer echoes to the plays of Shakspeare or his celebrated followers. New Bond Street was once the great fashionable residence, and it was at Long's Hotel, in that street, that Byron and Scott met for the last time. Moore and his friend, the author of ^^ Childe Harold," used to dine frequently at Stevens's Hotel, in the same thoroughfare, and as both houses are still standing I had the cu- riosity to look them out. Old Bond Street is still more celebrat- ed than its modern namesake, it having been the place in which many of the distinguished of former days resided. Sterne, the author of " Tristram Shandy," lived and died in that street, at what was called in his day " The Silk-Bag Shop." The house is now in the occupancy of a cheesemonger, who spurns a knowledge either of the immoral parson or his works. If my memory JO* 114 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; serves me correctly, it was in Old Bond Street that Boswell lived when he gave a supper to Johnson and others of the Club, at which Goldsmith made his appearance in the famous blossom- colored coat his biographers tell us about. The house is not known, and I found it useless to hunt the locality. These re- marks call to mind a visit I made to the graveyard of Temple Church, off Fleet Street, near Temple Bar. Goldsmith was buried there in a common grave ; but, as there was no stone raised upon the spot, his last resting-place is unknown. Others, total strangers to fame, lie around, and lengthy inscriptions on the slabs which cover their tombs record who rest below ; but the man, who was really great and good, sleeps the endless sleep in the heart of a great city, and not one can point out the place of his grave. Many seek it, but none find ! The honorary tomb in West- minster Abbey is a mockery, when one is made acquainted with these facts. Some admirers of the bard have placed a beautiful marble tribute to his memory, in the vestry of Temple Church, on which is engraved the following : — This Tablet, recording that Oliver Goldsmith Died in the Temple on the 4th of April, 1774, and was buried in the adjoining churchyard, was erected by the Benchers of the Hon. Society of the Inner Temple, A. D. 1837. This is something for poor Goldy, and although none can tell his last resting-place, the pilgrim from distant lands can see that his memory is cherished by those who dwell near his for- gotten grave ! The poet lived and died in the building No. 2, Brick Court, Middle Temple, near by his last resting-place ; and immediately under the rooms he occupied, lived Sir Wm. Black- stone, the great lawyer. I went into the house and looked ajround, but saw nothing worthy of remark. It is secluded OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 115 and quietj all things considered, but not mucli can be said in favor of its inhabitants, as they are principally undistinguished lawyers of the London Bar. When I jSrst visited the metropolis, I hunted out the habita- tion in which poor Chatterton committed suicide. It is No. 4, Brook Street, and at present occupied as a furniture warehouse. The house is old and much decayed, and is to be torn down soon, and then the last visible thing connected with the brief London residence of the proud boy bard will be swept away for- ever. He was buried in a shell in Shoe Lane workhouse yard; but, as no one had any sympathy for him at the time of his death, his grave was unmarked. From what I can learn, the Farringdon Market now occupies the former site of the pauper burial-ground, and the ashes of the greatest genius that England ever gave birth to mingle with their mother earth in a market- place. That literary knave and charlatan, Horace Walpole, is not unjustly charged with Chatterton's untimely and horrible end. If he had acted the part of a mauj the world would never have had to mourn the sad fate of the Bristol boy. Shoe Lane is a filthy place, and famous for its connection with genius. Savage, the poet, was born in it ; Lovelace died there in miserable lodgings, in a court, still in existence, called Gunpowder Alley ; and there Chatterton was crammed into a pauper's grave, without the rites of Christian burial. The vicinity is not less famous, but I am happy to say less filthy. St. Bride's Church is close at hand, and by paying a small fee I was enabled to visit it. The sexton pointed out the tomb of Richardson the printer, the author of " Clarissa Harlowe." I was glad to meet with a man of some intelligence, and more pleased to find Bichardson's resting- place. The slab covering the tomb is half hidden by a pew, but still it can be seen. ^' Clarissa" was the first novel worthy of the name I ever read, and I distinctly recollect stealing out of a clear bright moonlight night, and perusing it by the light of Cynthia's beams, after having been threatened with a flogging if I did not lay it aside. The large type in which it was printed was easily traced by my young eyes, although the moon was all the light I had. I read eagerly; no one ever took more interest in the fate of an imaginary heroine than I did at that time in the fortunes of vir- 116 THE FOOTPATH AND ma H way; tuous Clarissa Harlowc. She was my beau ideal of a woman, and though years have passed since then, my mind will never lose the image of the fair young girl. I thought she was at my side, as I stood in the sacred place, looking mournfully upon the grave of him from whose brain she sprung. A short distance further down Fleet Street, towards the Strand, is the famous Mitre Tavern, once the resort of Dr. John- son and Goldsmith. It is in a court of the same name ; and the present landlord is well acquainted with the history of his domicile. I sauntered in there at a rather late hour one even- ing, and ordered a cup of coffee and a roll. The waiter looked at me scrutinizingly, and told me that it would be eighteen pence. ^' Only eighteen pence ? I thought it was three shillings," said I. The fellow looked abashed, and stammered out an apology, and finished by asking my pardon. *' For," said he, ''many persons come in here, and not being acquainted with our prices, consider themselves imposed on when called upon to settle." I remained for some time, and was shown the warm corner, once the favorite resting-place of the great moralist. It is in the coffee- room, and a fine copy of Nollekin's bust of the essayist is imme- diately over the spot. I felt perfectly at ease in the presence of the Doctor's sculptured representative, and almost suspected that his spirit haunted the old inn, everything looked so cosy and comfortable. One of the oldest literary clubs of London formerly dined at the Mitre, but they discontinued resorting to it in 1847, and now assemble at the Free Mason's Tavern in Great Queen Street. Still further down, on the opposite side of the way, is Bolt Court, the last residence of Johnson, and the place where ho died. I believe the house in which ho dwelt was destroyed by fire some years ago; but be that as it may, there is a tavern in the alley at present called after the lexicographer, and every night sees it thronged with visitors, who go there to hear songs and recitations. The passage is rather narrow, and does not appear to have been wide enough to have allowed a man so bulky as Johnson ingress or egress without a gentle squeeze. The place is classic, and worth a visit, for it was in that court that Goldsmith, Uurke, and Reynolds frequently assembled and enjoyed their mental feasts. 117 In going up it at night, one hurries through, fearful lest he should encounter the Doctor in the act of bowing his distinguished com- panions to the street, and be wedged in between the walls and his great body. The site of the world-renowned Fleet prison is on Farringdon Street, but not a vestige of the once living tomb remains. Like those it held captive, it has passed away, and the stranger looks in vain for a single relic of a building within whose walls men of genius found a temporary retreat from the clamors of persevering creditors. What a long catalogue of great names the bare mention of that place calls to mind ! There Dr. Donne was imprisoned ; and Wycherley, the poet, was incarcerated in the Fleet for seven years;, and Lloyd, the friend of Churchill; and Mrs. Thomas (Curll's " Corinna'^) died there, as well as a host of others equally celebrated. Even William Penn was once a pri- soner in the famous place, and that for being guilty of owing a few pounds. Poverty is a crime even at this day ! Lord George Gordon's riots caused a deal of harm in London at the time of their occurrence ; but now no one thinks of them. The Fleet was burned then, if I recollect rightly, and Newgate with it. The mob tore down the house of the great Lord Mans- field,- in Bloomsbury Square, and burnt his library, or as much of it as was not accidentally saved from the flames. I visited the spot frequently ; but there are no evidences there at this time of arson and pillage. The house is at the northeast end of the square, and in a pleasant section of the west end of the town. D'Israeli lived in the same street, and the house in which he com- piled his " Curiosities of Literature" is standing to this day. Other disturbances of a less serious character than the Gordon out- break, however, took place in the same vicinity in after years, and not the least remarkable was the visit of the 0. P. rioters to the house of John Philip Kemble, in Great Russel Street, Bloomsbury Square, before which they sang the popular song of '^ Heigh-ho,^' written by Horace Smith, of Rejected Addresses celebrity. The dwelling was torn down a few years since, to make room for the additions to the British Museum ; but the spot is pointed out to the curious yet. 118 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; While on the subject of riots, I may as well mention Apsley House, the town residence of the Duke of Wellington, as it still bears some marks of the effects of the great Reform disturbances. The hero had the lower windows closed up with iron blinds since that time, to prevent a recurrence of the outrages committed then by a London mob, and the house looks at those points like a prison. Many persons wonder what is meant by the iron screens, and can- not imagine why they &re in their present position ; while others, who are acquainted with the causes which placed them there, say nothing, but feel keenly the silent rebuke — for they were evidently put there by the Duke to commemorate the visit of gratitude paid him by his countrymen. On the Southwark side of the river are several places of note, not the least remarkable of which is the Tabard Inn, famous for being the place in which Chaucer assembled his Canterbury pil- grims. The house is still in existence as an inn, and the stranger can enjoy a glass of ale there as well as at any other old place in London. The entrance is through an arch, which leads into a court-yard, once gay with travellers and visitors to the now com- paratively deserted hostelrie. I have a j^cuchant for hunting out these embalmed places (for such they are), and take pleasure in passing a short time within their sacred precincts. I feel as if trans- ported back to a bygone age, and imagine around me the bearded men of earlier times, as I sit quietly gazing around upon the famous walls. Dut a short distance from the inn noticed above, is St. Saviour's Church, Southwark, one of the oldest ecclesiastical edifices in the metropolis. It is irregularly built, and a new wing docs not add cither to the beauty or architectural proportions of the structure. The older parts arc in the early English style, and, next to West- minster Abbey, are considered the best specimens of that order in London. The monuments in the Lady chapel ore numerous, and some of them curiosities. Probably the most interesting fact connected with the place is that it contains the tomb of Edmund Shakspcarc, player, brother of the great bard of Avon. The spot pointed out is not clearly identified, but sufficient is known to warrant the assertion that such a person lies buried in the church. OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 119 He was the poet's youngest brother, and according to the parish register was interred December 31, 1G07. Who ever thought Shalvspeare had a brother? Surely, not one in a hundred thousand of his readers. But he had, and his remains turned to dust years ago under the paved floor of St. Saviour's, Southwark. Philip Massinger, the fine dramatist, and forerunner of Soulful Will, is buried in the churchyard ; but there is no stone to mark the place, nor is it an easy matter to learn the whereabout of the grave. John Fletcher (of Beaumont and Fletcher) is interred in the chancel, and old Grower, the poet, has both a monument and a grave in the same building. He was of what is called a noble family, and consequently his tomb is kept in repair. Doctors Commons, where all wills made in the District of Can- terbury are recorded, is located to the south of Saint Paul's, in a narrow street near the Thames. This celebrated legal quarter is much resorted to by anxious heirs and those who are curious as to the legacies of deceased persons. The last testaments of some of England's greatest men are there in their original forms, among which may be named those of Shakspeare, Cromwell, and Dr. Johnson. The will of Napoleon also adorns the place, and it is said to contain a clause bequeathing 10,000 francs to the man who attempted the assassination of the Duke of Wellington, in Paris. Persons desirous to learn any particulars respecting the will of a deceased individual have every facility afforded them in the search by paying a shilling to the officer in attendance, who gives the applicant a slip of paper which, by being handed to another official, secures to the searcher the privilege of examining the records, but no one is allowed to make a memorandum without additional pay. The names of the persons who have died in the district, and left property by testament, are enrolled in parchment books, with the day and year of decease, as is customary in such places. Copies of the wills, written in Old English, are kept for examination, and arranged with great precision. If a person desires to see the originals, he can do so by paying an additional shilling. I went with a friend to search for a will, and after a laborious hunt found what we sought. The clerk recognized me as an American, and endeavored to enter into a conversation with 120 THE FOOTrATII AND HIGHWAY ; me respecting my countrymen, and what he was pleased to call their uncharitable prejudice against England. I evaded his ques- tion, and excused myself to attend to the business on which we came. Newgate Prison, on the old Bailey, is a sombre, repulsive struc- ture, by no means calculated to win one's admiration; and would, aside from the suffering, wretchedness, and crime connected with it, claim the stranger's attention; but, when viewed as the great criminal prison of London, it calls to mind the whole catalogue of celebrated felons who have, at various times, suf- fered the penalty of violated law there. Immediately in front of the main door, in the curbstone, are two sockets, into which are inserted iron uprights for the support of the scaffolds used at executions ; and around, for a considerable space, is the ground occupied, at times of strangling, by the humane who love to see their fellows die like dogs. It was there that Fauntleroy was hung, and there public executions take place at this day. On the corner, diagonally opposite, stands St. Sepulchre's Church, a fine old Gothic edifice, remarkable for being the place in which prayers are offered up for criminals about to suffer death at the jail. The bells are tolled when an execution takes place, in conformity to the will of a parishioner, who died in 1G05, and bequeathed the sum of £1 Gs. 8d. to the clerk for such service on such an occasion forever. The interior is quite imposing, and, as the principal entrance is through an arched way under the tower, the visitor is impressed with the sanctity of the fane immediately on going within. Probably the objects of greatest interest to the American in the shrino arc the grave and tombstone of Captain John Smith, whose adventures and sufferings are so intimately connected with the early history of eastern Virginia. The slab is pointed out, but the inscription is obliterated, and the only portion of the sculpture visible is the representation of three Turks' heads. The record was in verse, and some copies of it are in existence, but I was unable to procure one. The recipient of the intervention of Pocahontas is seldom thought of now; and I was told by the sexton, who had been in the place a considerable time, that but a single Virginian, to his knowledge, had visited OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 121 the tomb of the romantic adventurer, in St. Sepulchre's, in thirty years. Fault-finding is a favorite pastime of travellers ; and it rarely occurs that we find one who does not quarrel with almost everything he sees in a foreign land. Scarcely any object is worth his praise, and nothing escapes his censure. Men who go abroad generally view the countries through which they pass through the lenses with which they have been taught to survey their native lands, and seldom reflect that the persons with whom they are sojourning are educated, and live under governments essentially different from those under which they have been reared and instructed. The Englishman in the United States discovers nothing but insolence and vulgarity among the inhabitants, and never reflects that the faults he notices exist more in his own imagination than in reality; while the American, who goes to England, usually measures everything in climate and manners by his own standard, and concludes that the islanders are arro- gant, pompous, and vainglorious, or so brutally illiterate and igno- rant as to be unfit to associate with intelligent men. Both are wrong, and both should reflect more, and not come to rash or unjust conclusions. We should always make allowance for the effects of early education and the institutions under which people are born and live; and not condemn and denounce, because, for- sooth, things do not suit our peculiar notions of propriety or right. The first few weeks an American spends in London are not agreeable. He complains of the atmosphere — ridicules the stiff- ness of the people's manners — finds fault with the apparent checks to personal independence, and entertains a dislike for almost every- thing. A month or two makes a change in his views and wajs of thinking. By that time he is reconciled to some extent, and sees beauties where before he observed defects, and sociability where he thought there was nothing but selfishness and cold in- difference to strangers. John Bull has become a respectable old fellow in Jonathan's estimation, then, and as the two open their minds to each other, they agree, after comparing notes, that Eng- land and America are the only great nations on earth. The change in the policy of the government since the days of 11 122 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; George the Third, respecting the expression of opinion, is re- markable; and I was ou one particular occasion greatly astonished to hear a public lecturer condemning, in language far from choice, the entire S3'stem under which he lives. Uis remarks were prin- cipally directed against the abuses of the Established Church, and the rapacity of the bishops, as then just revealed by a committee of examination appointed by the House of Commons to report upon certain alleged misdoings of the Fathers. His audience was composed principally of workingmen, and he gave them a portion of the real history of England, and mentioned some startling facts connected with the establishment of the State Church. He was particularly severe on the bishops, and said that "seventy thousand persons suiFered by fagot and flame in the reign of Henry the Eighth, because they dared differ with them ; and in Elizabeth's reign things were equally bad. Bishops at this day are no better than they were then, and they would commit the same atrocities now that they did in those ages, if they only dared." As an evidence of their avariciousness and falsehood, he mentioned the extortions they were guilty of in the last seven years, and the enormous salaries they are entitled to. In 1837, the bishops had their salaries fixed by law, according to the see, varying from £4000 to £15,000 per annum. These were the sums they declared on oath would be suflicient for their support, and now it was shown that in seven years they had received, over and above these amounts, the enormous total of £80,000, or about 400,000 dol- lars, and not one farthing of it would they return. The lecturer asked whether, if any of those present had robbed so largely, they would be permitted to go at liberty? "No!" said he ; "but you or I, had we done so, would have been in the Old Bailey long ere this, and by this time would be crossing the wild waters in chains to a penal colony, as felons." He spoke of some of the early English monarchs as they de- serve. The lives of Charles the First and James the Second were hastily but properly reviewed, and the conduct of the English bishops in the reign of the last-named sovereign carefully ana- lyzed. The doctrines of non-resistance, and the sacreduess of hia majesty's person, as taught by them 80 long as it suited their OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 123 purposes to give adherence to such points of policy, were exposed in masterly style; "and/' said he, 'Hhe seven bishops are called by historians the preservers of English liberty on account of their conduct at the abdication of James the Second, and why? Because they crushed the democracy, by usurping to themselves the kingly power. It would have been better for England had James been allowed to continue his violations of law longer, for then the people would have arisen and swept away kings and royalty forever!" Cheers greeted him on this declaration, although it was Sunday evening, and I began to think I was in bad company, and would soon be under the care of her Majesty's guardians of the peace for being in a congregation of Sabbath- breakers. I turned my eyes to the door in anticipation of seeing a posse of police officers entering, but none made their appear- ance. "Well," thought I, "there's more freedom of speech here than was allowed twenty years ago, or history greatly belies even William the Fourth." The lecturer is an educated man — a lawyer by the name of Ernest Jones. He was imprisoned by the government for a speech at a Chartist meeting, in 1848, and during his confine- ment is said to have been treated with great inhumanity. For two years he was incarcerated in Tothillfields prison, among the vilest criminals; and for a long time was obliged to live in a damp, unhealthy cell, where he was placed with the evident intention of destroying his life. The class of people he is identified with are intelligent, but not very religious. They have a number of lec- turers among them, the most of whom are clever men, not one of whom has escaped the dislike of the government, or imprison- ment for inflammatory speeches at Chartist and other meetings. Thomas Cooper, one of their leading lecturers, is a remarkable person, and a most decided disbeliever in Christianity, as in fact are all. The class to which they belong is large and daily in- creasing, from what I could learn ; and if they were to let religion alone, and direct their energies to the reform of abuses in the po- litical system of England, would, no doubt, eflfect much good; but so long as they continue as they are, must fail to do anything 124 THE FOOTPATH AND IIKJIIWAY; more than bring themselves into disrepute with all classes of Christians, professing and unprofessing. The government allows them great latitude at present, but, at the same time, keeps itself well informed as to their movements. The English anti-slavery societies are very much impressed with the wretched condition of the slaves in our Southern States, but, like many other philanthropists, they have a wonderful sym- pathy for suffering at a distance, but cannot see that at their own doors. They expend thousands annually in disseminating their doctrines, and in keeping their philanthropy before the world, and think themselves charitable in the extreme. A meeting was held by one of them while I was in the metropolis, and, during the day, a number of old and young men were employed in carrying heavy boards through the streets, on which were pasted flaming bills, printed with large letters, calling upon the humane to assem- ble in their strength, and express their opinions against ^* the in- famous system of American slavery V I met one of the walking ambassadors, an old decrepit man, with scarcely sufficient clothing to cover his nakedness, perambu- lating the streets, and sweating under a pair of heavy placarded boards, almost enough to crush him. His condition was forlorn, in truth, and I entered into conversation with him respecting the pay for being thus employed. " I don't know," said he, " how much I will get until I go in this evening." **Tho people who employ you have plenty of money, no doubt, and will remunerate you liberally," I interrogated. "They are very good, are they not ?" " None of them have ever been to mc, and I can't say whether they are to others or not." " How much will they give you for carrying those boards about all day?" " I expect eighteen pence ; but I may not got so much." " How many hours do you work?" "Tenor more," he replied; and on further inquiry I learned that the old man was dinucrless tliat day, and those in whose cm- ploy he was could not help but know it. 125 This is a tappy commentary upon the benevolence and sympa- thy of the anti-slavery societies of England, and their practical philanthropy. A few evenings after this, I was on London Bridge, where I met with a decent yellow man, from Philadelphia, who was almost naked, and without shoes. I asked him where he was from, and he immediately told me. When he learned that I was from the same place, he was greatly delighted, and freely narrated his hard- ships. He went to London in a merchant-ship, and foolishly left it under the impression that he would readily find employment, but soon learned, to his sorrow, that he had made a mistake. No one would give him work or money. His clothes were all gone ; he had not slept in a bed for five nights, and had no food that day. Tears rolled down his cheeks as he related his sufferings to me, and I deeply sympathized with him. He was an intelligent man, and, I believe, told the truth. I gave him sufiicient money for his supper, breakfast, and night's lodgings, and promised to meet him the next day, which I did. He was punctual to the time appointed, and I gave him a pair of pantaloons to cover his naked- ness. He was unfeignedly grateful, and told me that he would make every exertion to get back to the United States ; and if he succeeded, no one would ever catch him in England again. He had no seaman's protection with him, having lost it while ram- bling about the city, and, therefore, had no claim on the Ameri- can consul. How he made out, I never learned, as I never saw him again. Windsor Palace is renowned, the world over, for being the re- sidence of the Kings of England, and a visit to it is regarded a duty by the stranger in London. The ancient structure is about twenty-one miles from the metropolis, in Berkshire, on the Thames, situate on a commanding eminence, and presents a noble sight, view it from what point you may. Its many towers, its massive walls, its great extent, and solid Gothic grandeur, impress the beholder and carry him back, in thought, to the days of chiv- alry and civil wars. It was founded by William the Conqueror, and, like the old Norman hero, frowns down on all around it, sternly and unflinchingly. It is likely that no castle in Europe pre- 11* 126 THE FOOTPATH AND IIIOHWAY J serves its ancient glories so well as Windsor, and none is more princely or magnificent. The terrace around it, facing the Thames, and overlooking the valley of that stream, as well as the town be- low, and the famous Eton College, is considered the finest in the Old "World. Above it rise the sentinel towers and massive walls, while before you stretches out the splendid promenade. House- hold troops, in the gaudy uniform of the English army, keep guard at certain points along the space, and heavy guns frown from the battlements. The proud pile is of great magnitude, and perched, as it is, on a bold highland, it soars grandly up with its numerous towers and splendid terraces. The interior is in charac- ter with the extent of the place, and sufficiently gorgeous in orna- ment and decorations for the residence of a monarch. My com- panions and self were admitted on presentation of our tickets to the servant in attendance, and conducted through the principal state apartments. The rooms are grand and lofty, hung with tapestry and paintings, and adorned with sculpture. One of them is named after Vandyke, the great Flemish artist, and con- tains some of his masterpieces. Charles the First is boldly set forth, in various attitudes, and each and every picture of him ex- hibits the same pensive face given him by all artists. His ma- jesty will go down to the latest posterity, surely, if pictures will carry any man there. The departments are so numerous that one tires of them ; and as they are all grand, a general description of one is sufficient for all. The presence chamber is, probably, the most attractive, be- cause of the ornament and decoration. The walls are hung with splendid tapestry, illustrative of scriptural subjects, the furniture richly gilt, the chairs and sofas covered with red damask velvet, and the ceiling painted superbly by Verrio. The Waterloo room is hung around with the portraits of many distinguished men, whose names are intimately connected with the great event from which it takes its name; and St. George's Hall is decorated with the portraits of nearly all the English kings, with cross-spears, helmets, and shields on the walls between the pictures. The mast of the linc-of-battle ship Victory, on whoso deck Nelson foil, is among the most valued wonders of a particular hall ; and at the OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 127 head of a magnificent staircase leading into the audience chamber stands Chantrey's splendid statue of George the Fourth. The visitor, unless he has a taste that way, seldom remains long to admire extensive rooms and costly decorations, but is soon satisfied with regal splendors. We made a hasty circuit of the state apartments, and visited the famous round tower of the palace, and St. George's Chapel. The sacred edifice is a fine speci- men of Gothic architecture, with a splendid choir, lofty nave, and several costly monuments to persons of distinction, the most at- tractive of which is that to the Princess Charlotte. As we were standing in the eastern wing of the edifice, the guide informed us that beneath our feet were the remains of Ed- ward IV. and his Queen ; of Henry VI., Henry VIII., and Jane Seymour; and those of Charles the First. The bare mention of their names called to mind a flood of great events connected with the history of the past, and a strange feeling came over me when I realized the truth that I was standing over the ashes of these monarchs. Harry the Eighth under my feet ! Yes ! and dead at that ! The river at the town of Windsor is a pure, quiet stream, some thirty yards wide, and flows through a rich valley of great loveli- ness. Eton College is close to the palace, and that renowned seat of learning is in full view from the terrace. The park around Windsor contains thousands of acres of land, and within its limits is the artificial lake, known as Virginia Water, formed for the gratification of Queen Elizabeth. Heme's Oak, immortalized by Shakspeare, is one of the great curiosities of the park, and much resorted to by tourists. About two miles below Windsor, on the Thames, is the village of Datchet, the spot at which the merry roysterers plunged Sir John Falstaff into the river, as he asserted, with as little mercy as they would a batch of blind puppies. We remained some hours at the kingly castle, and then slowly wended our way to Slough, and thence across fields by quiet footpaths to Stoke Pogis Church, the scene of Gray's immortal " Elegy in a Country Churchyard," where repose the remains of the great classic poet. The spot is one of the most secluded in the world, and the old church, with its spire point- ing to heaven, and its ivy-covered walls, presents a picture that 128 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; no artist could resist sketching, aside from its hallowed associa- tions. A marble slab, with an inscription to the memory of Gray, is placed in the wall at the east end of the church, immediately in front of the tomb wherein the remains of himself and his mother repose. A monument to the memory of the bard was erected in the latter part of the last century, on an elevated piece of ground, a short distance from his grave, on the spot where he is supposed to have written his Ode on a distant prospect of Eton College. That ancient seat of learning is in full view from the point, and the lofty turrets of Windsor form a grand feature in the landscape. On each side of the cenotaph, extracts from his poems are en- graved, and a double charm is given to the selection by the scenes and surrounding localities. The church of Stoke Pogis is irregularly built, and remarkably picturesque in appearance. The interior is adorned with tablets to the memory of the deceased gentry of the neighborhood, and the coats of arms of several families embellish the walls. The escutcheon of the Penns stands conspicuous among them, and the word " Pennsylvania" is the only motto it bears. One of my companions and myself belong by birth to that State, and it was a surprise to us to see heraldry added to the name of William Penn. His descendants abandoned the religious creed of their illustrious relative many years ago, and for several generations past have been connected with the Established Church of Eng- land. One of them is buried in Stoke Pogis Church, but no monument or record, excepting the " pomp of heraldry" alluded to, marks the tomb. Wo passed several hours in rural enjoyment at this peaceful place, among the asicr-swathed graves and rustic tombs, and at the close of a delightful summer day returned to London, to mingle in the roar and life of the great city. 129 CHAPTEE X. LONDON TO OXFORD AND STRATFORD-UPON-AVON. After a prolonged stay, I left London at an early hour in the morning, in a drenching rain, and rode through the streets of the city on an omnibus, from St. Paul's down Ludgate Hill, Fleet Street, and the Strand, to the station of the Great Western Rail- •way at Paddington. By the time the coach reached its destina- tion, I was quite wet, and as the storm continued unabated all day, there was but little opportunity afforded for enjoying the old and remarkable in cities, or the beautiful in the country. My fellow-passengers were ignorant and stupid, and their conversation was senseless and unprofitable. One of them was an English sailor, who pretended to be as great a navigator as Captain Cook, and talked about himself and his travels almost constantly, and without solicitation. A servant girl from London, on a trip to her parents in Wales, won his admiration, and she, no doubt, loved him before the journey ended, for the same reason that Dcsderaona did Othello — the hardships he said he had suffered — for she evidently believed his fables, and falsify he did most out- rageously. I left the train at Didcot, and, after a short ride, arrived at the celebrated city of Oxford, the great English seat of learning. This ancient place has a solid Gothic appearance, quite pleasing to an American. The colleges are numerous, and as most of them are large and highly ornamented edifices, the visitor finds much to examine and admire. Christ Church is the largest, and owes its origin to Cardinal AVolsey. It is a quadrangle, with a high tower over the gateway, in which hangs an enormous bell, which gives name to that structure. The picture-gallery is accessible to visitors on payment of a shilling, and as my curiosity prompted me to see what was worth looking at, I paid the fee, and examined 130 THE FOOTPATH AND mOHWAYj the paintings and library. Some of the pictures are glorious spe- cimens of art, and the collection may not improperly be called one of the most valuable and complete of the old masters in England. The entrance hall is adorned with busts of distinguished men who have at various times been connected with the institution, among which is one of Dr. Busby, the renowned " whipping master," as he was popularly called in olden times. ^^ A great man," said the knight, throwing his hand toward the tomb of Dr. Busby, "a very great man; he flogged my grandfather once," is a passage in the Spectator, and if greatness consists in beating people, why not award praise to the pedagogue as well as the general ? The library hall is a large room, around the walls of which are vast numbers of valuable works, both in print and manuscript. The floors are of oak, and at one end is a chair, said to have been the property of Cardinal Wolsey. The architecture of the inte- rior does not present any remarkable feature, and no man can gain much information by glancing an half hour at a large collection of books. From this edifice I wended my way to the Bodleian Li- brary, one of the largest and most valuable in England. The rooms are spacious, and contain, besides the books, pictures and sculpture. There is a hall in the same building, under the library, in which Charles the First assembled his lords during the civil wars, and which Cromwell afterwards turned to a better use by converting it into a stable for his horses. His troops broke the stained glass in the windows, and did much injury to the building; but, excepting the colored lights, everything has been restored to its former condition. The floors are of oak, and the ceiling of stone, groined and arched. The adjoining rooms are used for con- ferring degrees, and for schools. They are remarkably plain, both as respects furniture and architecture, and are better suited to a log school-house in the West than the celebrated University of Oxford. The other colleges are spacious buildings, quite cele- brated in their way, but not really handsome. The Badclifie Li- brary is a circular edifice, with some pretensions to architectural splendor, but worthy a visit mainly on account of the viow of Ox- ford to be obtained from the top. The city from this point looks 131 very fine. The whole town appears to consist of extensive build- ings of great age, with towers and domes and tapering spires. There is a fine Gothic cross to the memory of the three bishops, Cranmer, Kidley, and Latimer, who were burnt at Oxford, during the reign of Queen Mary. It is erected on the spot where the burning is said to have taken place, and is really an interesting object to visitors. The inscription is in modern church text, and sets forth in florid language the sufferings of those who died for religion's and opinion's sake. It is popularly called the Martyr's Memorial. As my visit was made during the vacation months at the uni- versities, there were but few students then at Oxford. Those I met were present for the purpose of casting their votes in an elec- tion connected with a place to which numbers were eligible. They wore a long black gown, similar to those of the English clergy, and a cap with a square top of the same color made to fit the head closely. Some of them were mere boys, while others had attained to years of manhood. I visited every college in the city, and strolled leisurely through a beautiful arbor in the grounds attached to Magdalene College, renowned the world over as " Ad- dison's Walk," and after a pleasant stay set out on my journey to the ancient town of Banbury, distant from Oxford about twenty- five miles. "To Banbury I came, profane one! Where I saw a Puritane one, Hanging of Lis cat on a Monday, For catching of a mouse on a Sunday!" These lines rang in my ears for some time before my entrance into the famous place. But the days of the Puritans are past, and if Banbury ever did witness such a sight as described by the poet traveller, it certainly did not do so the evening on which I first entered its old thoroughfares. I trudged slowly along its streets with my knapsack on my arm, " the observed of all ob- servers," and not being very desirous of so much notice, I soon made my way to an inn. It was externally a forbidding house; but a man must not take the outside of an English village tavern as an evidence of its internal arrangements, as I have learned from 132 frequent lessons. The " Red Lion" turned out to be a well-fur- nished and admirably kept hotel. The floors and stairs were car- peted, the beds curtained, and the sleeping-rooms clean and in- viting. I was disappointed, and expected to pay for the extras of the room, and made up my mind accordingly; but in this I was mistaken; my bill, all told, for supper, bed, breakfast, and the ex- tortion of servants' fees, was three shillings and seven pence, or less than ninety cents. Banbury is a quiet place, with but little trade and not much intelligence. Some of the streets are wide, while others are quite narrow, and all are abominably crooked. Although Stratford-on Avon is only twenty miles from it, I was obliged to ask a dozen persons without meeting one who was able to tell me which road to take to that place. An old man whom I asked hesitated, and began to tax his memory, when I ventured to aid him by remind- ing him it was the town in which Shakspeare was born and buried. "O yes," said his wife, who was standing by, " I read it in the newspapers not long ago that he is buried there, but we don't know where it is." I left them, perfectly content with their ac- quirements; and as they were publicans, and likely to be some- what intelligent, I made no further inquiry, and relied solely upon my own geographical knowledge of the country. Wraxton Abbey is on the road, and as that lies near to Banbury, I learned its lo- cality, and made my way to its walls. The day rose beautifully, and after a cold, cheerless rain of twenty-four hours* duration, the sun was a welcome visitor. I turned off the road, and on making application at the abbey gate for admittance, was informed that the person having charge of the building was not in at that time. The edifice is located in a valley, surrounded by trees, so that I could only got a glance at it from a neighboring eminence. My walk lay through several villages and a good country. Some of the hamlets were composed entirely of straw-thatched cot- tages of one story, and the inhabitants were as ancient in appear- ance as the homes they occupied. One that I entered was a representative of all. The floor was stone, neatly sanded, the fur- niture was scanty, but the entire place clean. I noticed in this cottage what I frequently observed before, that, no matter how OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 183 humble thiDgs were, they were kept tidy, and the clothing of the cottagers, even though patched, was neat. The occupants of the cottage were sociable and kind. One was a perfect specimen of the old English peasant ; the other the good housewife of former days. The old man handed me a seat, and, as I slung my knapsack on the ground and accepted the proffered chair, he exclaimed, "Ay, that's heavy, lad; ye must be sore tired. Come, lass, bring a pot of ale for the stranger.'' And I soon refreshed myself with the welcome draught. The friendly peasant and his wife regarded me as a curiosity when they learned that I was from America, and insisted that I should drink another mug of home-brewed before bidding them fare- well. I conversed with them for some time, and when we parted it was with a hearty " God bless you !" from the kind couple. The village lay in a valley, from which I ascended to an ele- vated plain, over which I leisurely pursued my way along a glo- rious road, such as is only seen in England. The hedges were green and odorous, the sky pure and cloudless, and my heart light. I was on my direct route to Shakspeare's grave, and realized to my satisfaction that I was on English ground. The soil generally was better than that in many other counties in which I had been, although some of it was indifferent, and pro- duced but little. The land was under cultivation throughout, but not all of it in grain. Wheat, barley, hay, oats, beans, and mangel-wurzel, were the principal products. Several fields were used for grazing purposes, and, in fact, the raising of stock ap- peared to be one of the main stays of the farmer. The consump- tion of meats in England is great, and the demand is always equal to the supply; consequently, the farmer raises that which brings him ready cash, and at the same time improves the land. The method of farming may be better than ours, but I could not discover in what it is superior. The appearance of the country is beautiful to the eye, and as the land is either in grain or grass, and not an inch uncared for, the American traveller usually makes up his mind that the English cultivators are better farmers than those of the United States. The land does not produce more grain to the acre than is grown with us, on the same amount of 12 134 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; ground, and the yield varies from as low as ten to as high as sixty bushels of wheat to the acre, the last being the greatest quantity obtained in the interior counties, and that not often. The uten- sils are exceedingly clumsy, and some of the ploughs require as many as four horses to draw them. I have seen men ploughing with that many, one ahead of the other, and it rarely happens that less than three are used. The men who do the work are but little better in their condition than the farm-hands in the south of Ireland, and many of them are quite as ignorant. Those with whom I conversed informed me that they received but from 12d. to 14J. pence per day, and out of that sum several of them had families to support and rent to pay. They complained very much of their situation, and the manner in which they were com- pelled to live. On the turnpike, I met several laborers employed at breaking stone, and repairing the road, who were really ashamed to tell me what their wages were. One of them hung his head, and said it was little indeed, while others acknowledged that those who broke stone received eight pence per square yard for what they broke, at which rate they earned sixteen pence per day, and the laborers got one shilling. A wagoner informed me that his wages were eight shillings a week; and, said he, "A poor man finds it a hard job to feed a wife and seven children out o' that, and pay fourteen pence a week rent.'' He knew I was an American, and expressed a strong desire to go to the States ; many of his acquaintance were there, and all doing well. I stopped at a cottage at a toll-gate, and entered into conversa- tion with a young married woman, who dwelt there. She was illiterate, but agreeable and hospitable. She showed mo the bouse. It had but two rooms, one up and one down stairs, the lower one of which was paved or floored with stone flags. The furniture was scanty; but what there was, was good and clean. She was fond of flowers, and had a garden, of a few yards in length, in which she cultivated some floral gems. She confirmed what the men had told mo in regard to wages, and said it was not an unusual thing for men to work in the fields all day for much less than a shilling. Her husband was a gardener for a noble- man, near at hand, and received but poor pay. He paid ten OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 135 pence per week rent, and had hard work to support himself and family. They had four children, all young. The eldest went to school, where she was instructed in reading and writing at a cost of a penny-ha' -penny per week. Schooling is the cheapest thing the poor have in Warwickshire, but what the quality of it is I was unable to learn. On this route I was fortunate in beholding one of the most magnificent prospects in the world — the Red Horse vale — from the brow of Edgehill, a place remarkable for the first engagement between Cromwell and Charles I. The old Puritan and his troops did sad havoc among the royalists on that memorable day, and now the bones of the slain enrich the land "Wliicli the rude swain Turns with his share and treads upon." The valley, for miles, is beautiful beyond a pen and ink de- scription. I stood upon an elevated headland, whose green sides rapidly sloped to the plain, and as far as the sight extended, to the right and left, stretched the glorious scene. Away, in the blue distance, arose the ^^ stormy hills of Wales ;'^ while at my feet, and before me, was a landscape of most living beauty — of fields of waving grain, divided by luxuriant hedges, and traversed by sinuous roads. The blue smoke curled up from the cottage chimneys on the farms, and the sharp spire of a distant village church pierced the pure air above. In a far-off field a number of reapers, male and female, were at labor ; and the balmy air of morning was rich with the scent of new-mown hay and the breath of flowers. The landscape looked like a velvet carpet, adorned with the master designs of a great artist, and woven in the rich- est and most pleasing colors. I gazed for an hour, drinking in the inspiration of the scene, and contemplating the magnificent prospect before me. It was unhackneyed and untravellcd. I came on it by surprise, and my delight was sincere and lasting. A loquacious innkeeper wanted me to look at some rusty weapons of strife, which had been found on the field of battle at various times, and could not understand why I took so much pleasure in viewing the valley and surrounding scenery. He was 136 TUE FOOTPATH AND niGOWAY ; full of history, and could point out the very spot where the royal- ists first gave way ; and, if I had permitted him, would have de- tained me a week to listen to his descriptions of the conflicts which have taken place in the valley, for it has been the scene of more than one bloody encounter between furious foes. My road lay through and across the splendid vale before me, and, as I had a long walk to accomplish before sunset, I descended into the plain and pursued my way, a lonely pilgrim to Shak- spcarc's tomb. The walk was pleasant, and made agreeable by occasional con- versations with such of the peasantry as I met. One young fel- low walked several miles with me, and grew quite friendly before we separated. He was clothed in the usual style of the country people — smock frock, yellow cloth leggings, coarse shoes, and short-clothes, a most abominable dress to my way of thinking, lie was not, by any means, intelligent, and, although we were within six miles of Shakspeare's birthplace, and he himself was born near the famous town, he knew nothing of his immortal countryman. The scenery, as I approached Stratford-on-Avon, grew more and more lovely the nearer I drew to the town, and at last, from a gentle knoll, my eye caught sight of the tall spire of the church of Holy Trinity, where Shakspeare lies buried. I was alone, and on foot, weary and worn with many miles of travel; the sun was low in the western heavens, and the soft sky of an English sum- mer's evening bent over the famous place in which was born the greatest of England's bards. Dust clung to my mantle, and the beaded sweat was upon my brow. Before mo were scenes, the very mention of whose names makes the heartstrings of the lover of poetry thrill. There was the pensive Avon — there the meadows in which Shakspeare roved, and the mausoleum in which repose his' ashes. I could scarcely realize the truth of my situation for a time, and joy filled my heart when the fact was made clear to my senses. One of the brightest dreams of my boyhood was, at that moment, fulfilled, and Stratford-on-Avon was in reality be- fore me. I slowly crossed the old stone bridge that spans the stream and 137 leads into the town, and soon entered its principal street. It was near the close of a market-day, and the space devoted to traf- fic was filled with articles of trade, and crowded with citizens and rustics. I passed on to an inn, and after engaging lodgings, sal- lied out in search of the house in which the bard of Avon first drew breath. Henley Street is neither wide nor attractive, nor are the houses on it remarkable for architectural beauty. Its pavements, however, have borne the tread of some of the greatest of intellectual men ; and strangers from every section of the world, familiar with the works of Shakspeare, have sauntered along that thoroughfare to the house in which he was born. I felt that the earth beneath my feet was sacred, as I moved along in search of the humble mansion so dear to the admirers of the great dramatic bard, and soon stood before the quaint old structure with vague, undefinable feelings, such as we are prone to experience when we realize an aspiration which has been a cherished hope from child- hood, yet a thing we feared would never be accomplished. The house is two stories high, antiquated and humble. It is open to strangers, who are expected to make a small purchase in return for the favor of standing within its sacred walls. Tho lower floor is flagged with stones, and the room in which the im- mortal poet first saw the light is a very humble apartment, with a floor of oak. The walls are almost entirely covered with the i names of those who have visited the house, among which, the old lady, having charge of the place, showed me the autographs of John Kemble, the actor, and Emerson, the American essayist ; and also, in one of the windows, that of the great " Wizard of the North," Sir Walter Scott, written with a diamond on a pane of glass. I recorded my humble name among thousands of the un- distinguished which disfigured the ceiling and sides of the room, and, after purchasing a few mementos, left my autograph in a book kept for the signutures of visitors. The old lady was very obliging and communicative. She told me that more Americans came to the house than any others, and her assertion was borne out by the records. I asked for the book in which Washington Irving had written his name ; but it was not there. The house, a few years ago, changed owners, and at that time the book in 10* 138 THE FOOTPATH AND IIIfinWAY J question was sold, by auction, to a gentleman in London, who was curious in such matters, and now graces the library of a pri- vate individual in the metropolis. The building in which the great dramatist died was torn down years ago, and the places which attract the pilgrim's attention now are '^ the cradle and the grave/' Distinguished authors have described Stratford Church in classic language, and thousands have read their descriptions with eagerness, profit, and pleasure. It would be folly in me to attempt an account of that renowned edifice, and yet I am inclined to try, although I can add but little of interest to what has already been said. It is a noble Gothic structure, of great beauty, with a taper- ing spire full one hundred and fifty feet high, which pierces the air like a pointed arrow. The approach is through an arbor of lime-trees, which form an inviting walk, and as the church is built close to the bank of the sylvan stream, it presents a splen- did prospect, and deserves to be the mausoleum of the immortal bard. The chancel is the tomb of Shakspeare and his descendants, and there, also, repose the remains of his wife — Anne Hathaway. At the side, near the vault wherein he lies, is a tablet to his memory, surmounted with a bust, which did not strike me as a •correct likeness. There is a fulness of face, and floppishness of the muscles, if I may be allowed the expression, which do not indicate cither genius or intelligence. It is not my ideal of Shak- speare, and looks more like the bust of a burly butcher than of the " sweet Swan of Avon." The vault is covered with a rough stone slab, on which are engraved, in the orthography of the poet's day, these lines of terrible import to the sacrilegious: — Good friend, for Jesus' s sake forbear To dig the dust cnclos'd here ; Blest be the mnn that spares these stones, And curst bo he that moves my bones. The other tombs are inscribed with the date of the birth and death of his children, and adjoining are the graves of some of the nobility of the country. Figures to the memory of a once noble 139 family occupy another section of the church ; but the race they honor, like that of the bard, is extinct; and in this respect only is the resemblance borne out, for what their names are, but few learn, and none care to remember. The sexton who told Washington Irving that he had seen the ashes of Shakspeare was guilty of a pardonable deviation from the truth, which has given rise to a very pretty story and a cherished conceit. It is almost sacrilege to break the charm j but the truth ought to be told, and I will be censurable in tell- ing it if there be censure attached to a statement of facts. The present sexton is grandson to the one celebrated by my country- man, and he says it was and is impossible to see the remains of the bard from the place represented. The vault said to have been opened for the purpose of burial at the time alluded to is not within two feet of the grave of Shakspeare, and from the location of the two burial-places there exists no doubt but that Irving was imposed upon. My guide showed me the tomb, and pointed out the impossibility of seeing through two feet of solid earth into the grave of Shakspeare, for in digging the vault it is not likely that the narrow house would have exceeded by that distance the usual dimensions allotted to man. But the conclu- sive proof is that no vault has been opened immediately along- side that of the poet for nearly a hundred and fifty years; and unless his remains are exhumed, there is scarcely a possibility of mortal eye beholding them until the final resurrection, when ocean and earth shall restore all that their arms entomb, and the mortal put on immortality. 140 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGH WAY j CHAPTER XI. WARWICK, KENILWORTH, BIRMINGHAM, AND THE GRAVE OF SHENSTONE. By the stage route from Stratford-on-Avon to Warwick, the traveller has a fine panoramic view of the silent stream and adja- cent country — the broad meadows through which the immortal bard was wont to roam, and the domain over which his poaching propensities used to lead him. The day on which I left the famous locality was beautifully clear, and an outside seat agreeable. The passengers were a gentlemanly set of men, quite republican in their sentiment, although they occasionally exhibited an affection for royalty. After an hour's ride, we entered the old town of War- wick, and had a view of its famous castle, a towering building of immense proportions and great strength. Its lofty turrets rise up like proud sentinels, and add a feudal feature to the quiet town under its shade to which it gives name. My fellow-travellers left me here with a hearty shake of the hand and a wish for the prosperity of ray noble country, hoping to have the plea.sure of meeting me again, while I pursued my way to Leamington, a modern town near Warwick, of great beauty and noted for its mineral spas. It is of recent date, and in appearance is as clean and attractive as most American towns. The streets are wide, and mostly shaded with trees, which give the place quite a suburban aspect. Five miles from Leamington are the hale old ruins of Kenil worth Castle, a text from which Sir Walter Scott wrote a novel. It is overgrown with ivy and much shattered, although its walls look as if they would bravo the storms of another thousand years. It is hid from view as you approach from the village by a grove of young oaks, and when first seen it comes upon the sight in all its ruined grandeur and lordly glor^. The remains are massive, and bear evidence to the magnificence of the building in OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 141 its prime and habitable days. It is extensive, and one of the rooms, which is nearly entire, gives an adequate idea of the dimen- sions of the apartments, when they echoed to the voices of stern lords and ladies fair. In ancient days there was a lake within the walls which inclose the castle, but now it is also fallen, and dwindled to a pond of stagnant water. There were some gentry present from Leamington rambling among the fallen fragments and around the broken towers of the glorious ruin ; while in a meadow, at the castle's side, once used as a tournament ground, a number of reapers were engaged at labor. The day was showery, but not sufficiently so to destroy the enjoyment of the visit, or prevent ** The lords and ladies from making love, Or the clowns from making hay," I sauntered back to the station, and in a short time found my- self in the ancient town of Coventry, celebrated for being the place in which the good Lady Godiva performed an equestrian feat in a costume neither wove nor spun, which excited the laudable curiosity of one of the sterner sex, and gained for his inquisitive honor the world-wide sobriquet of Peeping Tom of Coventry. Tennyson, the poet, has woven the story into beautiful measure, where the lovers of the curious will find a rich treat. " He waited for the evening train at Coventry," and while contemplating the quaint old city and its three lofty spires, made immortal, through exqui- site verse, the story of the lady and the knave. The town is old and strange. The houses are peculiar to the place, and the streets are both crooked and dirty. Every year the good citizens celebrate the freedom of their ancient city by a procession, in which a young girl, dressed in clothing as delicate as that worn by ballet-dancers, acts a prominent part, and rustics from far and near assemble to witness the display. I was in Lon- don when the exhibition came off in the summer of 1851, and thousands went from the metropolis to view the spectacle. 1 had no ambition that way, and rest perfectly content now with my ramble through the town, while "waiting for the evening train to'' Birmingham. 142 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; The great Work-Shop of England, as Birmingham may justly be called, is one of the meanest cities in appearance in the realm. There is scarcely a redeeming feature about it, and, excepting the Town Hall, not a single building deserving of particular note. The streets, like the streets of all English towns, are wretchedly crooked, and, what may be said to be a Birmingham peculiarity, are narrow, irregular, filthy, steep, awry, badly paved, lined with indifferent houses, and clouded even in clear weather with smoke ; while on damp or wet days they are so obscured with it that a man must be blest with wonderfully acute vision if he is able to see one hun- dred yards along any of the few straight thoroughfares in the place. It is situate nearly in the centre of England, on what is said to be the highest land in the country, except the various mountains; and, like Manchester, usually receives a shower-bath from the clouds five out of the seven days of the week. Like all the English manufacturing towns, it is plentifully sup- plied with poor people. In roaming round the city, I met decent- looking men and women standing in the middle of the street singing songs for what pence the moving or gaping throng felt inclined to give them, and at sundown the thoroughfares are the places of ex- hibition of negro singers and similar performers. I cannot think that these people voluntarily follow such occupations as a means of livelihood, for it does not stand to reason that a person would go into the open street as a low performer to earn a precarious sub- sistence, if work were obtainable whereby a living could be had without the disgrace or insults to which one is subjected who fol- lows the business of an itinerant street exhibiter. Beggars were more common than in London (probably because begging is tole- rated to a greater extent than in the metropolis), and in the even- ing men are to be met asking alms, and exposing their mutilated limbs to enlist the sympathies of the benevolent. I met more than a dozen diflcrent mendicants with their legs or arms off, and several blind and otherwise afflicted by explosions in mines, or accidents on railways. Ballad-singers were roaming the streets, singing in dolorous tune the blight of crops or the misfortunes of rustic lovers, while gaping children listened to the rambling musician or his doggerel rhymes. Take it all in all, Brumimujcn OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 143 (as it is called by the lower natives) is a peculiar town — deserving a visit from the traveller, both on account of the mixed character of its inhabitants, and the extent and variety of its manufactures. Every variety of metallic and ornamental wares is produced in Birmingham, and she really supplies the world with a certain class of her manufactures. Steel pens are made there in im- mense quantities, and the number of persons employed exclu- sively in giving form and temper to those iron recorders amounts to some thousands. I visited the extensive establishment of the Messieurs Gillott, and saw the process of manufacture from rolling the iron into sheets of the requisite thickness to the finishing of the pen. The steel is received from SheflSeld in a condition for being converted into writing instruments, and first cut into strips two inches wide, and pickled to remove the scale; then rolled to the required thickness; after which it is passed into the hands of females who are seated at presses worked by hand, and by them cut at one blow into flat pieces of a particular shape, which are the future pens. Side-slitting and piercing follow, which are also done on a hand-press, fitted up with a punch and bolster ; after which the blanks, as they are called, are annealed in quantities in a muffle. The maker's name is next stamped upon them, and then they are pressed into a concave form, the last process of forming the barrel pen. Hardening, which requires great care and trouble, is done by heating in a muffle to a certain degree, after which the pens are steeped in oil, which is cleaned off by whirling them round in a cylinder. They are next scoured by the same process, with the exception that powdered crucibles and other cutting substances are placed in the cylinder along with the pens, which produces on all a bright surface. The grinding on the point is done with great rapidity on an emory wheel, after which they go to the " slitter,^' who is provided with a pair of cutting shears fitted into a hand-press so accurately that a careful examination is necessary to detect that the two blades are not one. The pen is rested on the portion at the bottom, the handle turned, and the slit made. The shades of blue and straw-color are produced by heat. The pens are placed in a cylinder in large quantities, which revolves on a charcoal stove, and the change of 144 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY j color watched until that desired is attained, when the cylinder and its contents are removed. The brilliancy of the external sur- face is given by lac dissolved in naphtha, to which heat is applied until the spirit evaporates, when the lac alone remains, and the pen preserves its lustre, and is finished. The white marks on some are produced by grinding them at such points on an emory wheel. I have been thus particular in detailing the process of making a steel pen for the gratification of those who use them, that they may know what labor is required to produce a thing so small and useful. The girls employed in their manufacture pre- sented a better appearance than any others I saw in England, about the workshops. They were well clothed, healthful, and had quite intelligent faces. I spoke to one who was grinding pens, an employment very hard upon the fingers, and she gave ready and respectful replies to my inquiries. As I left her, a companion asked, *'What is he?'' "Oh! an American; I know him by his sharp face, and the kind manner in which he spoke to me." The variety of the manufactures of Birmingham is great, and herproducts singular. In proof of this I can say that she has sent forth almost every article that can be made from iron and com- posites, as well as cotton and flax. The skill and ingenuity of her artisans are astonishing, and the readiness of her master- workmen to manufacture anything proverbial, no matter what it may bo, so they get paid. The " News of the World," a London publication of July 20, 1851, said that "it is a matter of no- toriety that the strongest and stoutest, the best and the cheap- est slave-fetters to be found, are manufactured in Birmingham ;" and it is equally notorious that she furnished rifles, swords, mus- kets, and artillery to the enemies of Great Britain, both in Africa and India, thereby giving evidence that as it was, and is her business to manufacture, she is ready and willing to furnish arms to friend or foe, so that she is the gainer. There is not much of a romantic character in Birmingham, but some sections of the surrounding country present fine scenery, as well as ruins old, and massive halls. The town of Hales-Owen, celebrated as the birthplace and burial-place of Shenstone, the OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 145 poet, is distant about seven miles, and near it are the Leasowes, the once sylvan home of the bard. I walked from Birmingham to the town named for the purpose of leisurely viewing the coun- try, and observing what was curious on the route. During my ramble, I stopped several times at the small workshops on the road, and the scene that one of them presented it is difficult to describe. The place was small, with a forge and anvil for two workmen. I made an apology to an old man for my intrusion, which was kindly received, and at his invitation I took a seat. He and his wife, an aged grayhaired woman, were busily engaged in making nails for the heavy shoes worn by the rustics and la- boring poor of the country. I expressed surprise at a woman being thus employed, and asked whether it was a usual thing. " Oh yes ! I ha^ been at it for more than sixty years," said the woman ; '' and there are many women beside me at nail-making." " For sixty years ! why, how old are you, madam ?" I inquired. "I will be sixty-eight soonj and I was put at the business when I was but six years old; and it was not uncommon i' that day for youngsters to be put to work so soon." *^How much do you earn in a day?" "Not much, sir. A person maun work hard for thirteen or fourteen hours, and then be a very good han,' to earn eighteen pence, out of which he maun pay for his fire, and find the tools." "The wages were better once ?" I asked. "Yes; but that's a long while ago. The masters are always cutting down wages, and now a great many of our neighbors are on the strike against a reduction of four shillings i' the pound." " But what's the cause of the reduction ?" " That we cannot tell. The masters always have some excuse for cutting off the wages of the poor. Every year they're at it, and I don't think they'll ever stop." I told her that she was so old that she ought to quit work, and. rest for the balance of her days. " Yes, I wish I could ; but if I do na' work, I must go to the workhouse or starve, and I don't wish to do either. I have worked long enough, and I think I ought to be rich ; but it is 13 146 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGUWAY ; not such as ought to be rich as are so ; and as I am poor, I must work on till I die, which canno' be long now.'^ I stayed some time conversing with this pair. They informed me that they paid a shilling rent per week for their house, and earned about enough, when work was to be had, to keep them from want. Their clothing was scanty, and their house poorly furnished. The old woman's sight was very dim, and when she turned her dull eyes upon me I could not help but pity her hope- less condition. She was on the verge of the grave, and by the sternest necessity was compelled to bend to her daily task over the anvil to earn a living at a species of labor the most arduous and trying to man. I parted with them, after giving them a few pence, and they both came to the door and bade me adieu with a blessing. Hales-Owen lies in a valley, and is principally famous for its proximity to the Leasowes, the once romantic home of the poet. That estate is now sadly neglected to what it was in the bard's time ; no " rural fays and fairies" deign to tread its ruined walks, and but few pilgrims roam through its arbors. For many years it was a favorite resort of the admirers of cultivated nature, and pensive lovers ; but, like all sublunary things, its days of glory have gone, and desolation rules in the classic domain. The church of the town is remarkable for a very beautiful spire of great altitude, and for containing an urn to the memory of Shenstone. His grave is in the churchyard immediately be- side a footpath, and as its stone covering is level with the earth, it is worn by the tread of many feet, until the inscription is nearly obliterated. I arrived in the village sufficiently early to meet the aged sexton at the shrine before ho had gotten through with his morning duties, and with his permission I spent some time in the church. lie was a talkative old man, with a fund of legendary lore, and quite amiable in his manners. lie conducted me through the ancient edifice, pointing out the most remarkable tombs, and sat quietly chatting of his early days and courtship in the walks of the Leasowes, whilst I copied the verses on the urn to the poet's memory. Before us was the memorial ; at my side arose a clustered Gothic column; the grayhaired old man was seated near OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 147 me, and the subdued rays of the sun fell on his figure through the mullioned window in the choir. It was a rich scene, and caused me to t|pnk it not an unapt picture of a sprig of forest America, in converse with a true representative of old England. The lines on the tribute are no doubt in the published works of the bard, but I have no recollection of ever seeing them before. The poet of Hales-Owen was celebrated in his day ; but, at present, only a few persons turn out of their way to pay homage to his genius, and a fee to the sexton. The inscription is as follows : — WILL. SHENSTONE. Ob. 11th Feby. 1763— JEt. 49. Whoe'er thou art, with reverence tread These sacred mansions of the dead ; Not that the monumental bust, Or sumptuous tomb here guards the dust Of rich or great : (Let wealth, rank, birth Sleep undistinguished in the earth :) This simple urn records a name That shines with more exalted fame. Reader ! if genius, taste refined, A native elegance of mind ; If virtue, science, manly sense ; If wit which never gave offence ; The calmest head, the tenderest heart, In thy esteem e'er claimed a part. Ah ! smite thy breast and drop a tear, For know thy Shenstone's dust lies here! The poetry of the lines is of that class that is said "to belong to neither gods nor men;" nor is the statement respecting the resting-place of the bard's ashes true. But it is the rhymer's license to deal in fiction, and, therefore, the assertion may be al- lowed for convenience sake. Thousands who visit Westmin- ster Abbey believe that England's greatest men lie buried there, when the truth is that the remains of three or four only are in- terred in that celebrated mausoleum. Shakspeare, Dryden, Pope, Milton, Gray, Goldsmith, and many others have monuments in the grand old abbey, but their dust moulders afar from the spot. Hales-Owen is the picture of an English town a hundred years 148 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J ago. Secluded and nestled in a valley, it receives but few visitors ; and as its inhabitants are content with a retired life, they seldom go far from their dwellings. When a stranger co^s among thera, as I did, they evidently regard his advent as a remarkable event in the history of the place, if I may be allowed to judge from the commotion my presence among them produced. From thence to Dudley, a distance of six miles, there is an al- most unbroken hamlet. The tall chimneys of the forges emit a black smoke, and the steam from the engines at the coal-pits forms a strong contrast to the dark vapor. At one of the villages there was a meeting in session of the workmen on the strike, and the condition of the men who formed the assemblage was far from flattering. They were badly clothed, and pale and sickly. I stayed and listened to the speakers for some time, but none of them proposed a reasonable means of permanent relief. They were illiterate, and spoke the grating dialect of the country, which was certainly best suited to the audience, and though plain and com- mon-place language was used, it was such as the workmen wanted to hear. In a conversation with some of the men, I learned the particulars of the strike; and their statements confirmed those made by the old man and his wife respecting labor and wages. They appeared to think, however, that the final result of their action would be to accept the reduced prices, and work and starve on! The houses in the villages are miserable hovels, a degree supe- rior to the thatched cottages of the Irish peasantry — and a degree only. They are tolerably well lighted, and contain some furni- ture, but not much. The most of them are kept clean, so far as that is possible in an atmosphere of black smoke, and the few articles of household goods they contain are those of utility. There are numerous coal-pits on the route — some of them of great depth; but my curiosity did not prompt me to descend into them. The workmen engaged in raising the iron and coal (for both are obtained from the same pit) informed me that their wages varied from five to ten shillings per week, and then they were compelled to labor very hard to earn that much. I saw boys, and even women at work at these places, assorting and 149 shovelling coal into wagons, some of whom earned the miserable pittance of two shillings in six days. One of the girls was a fine- looking lass of prepossessing appearance, and it was a sickening sight to see her laboring, like a galley-slave, with a shovel among the inky fuel. But what else was she to do ? She could get no other work, and if she did not do that, she must starve. Many of the children of the district are sent to cheap schools, where they are instructed in the rudiments of reading and writ- ing — a blessing their parents never enjoyed. This, however, is not general, and thousands of the present generation must grow up in brutal ignorance. Dudley is a town of about 15,000 inhabitants, and, as it is located in the coal and iron district, it carries on a considerable trade. On an eminence overlooking it, stand the ruins of the Castle, a picturesque old pile, said to have been erected in the year 700, by a Saxon chief. The great halls and once princely apartments where, of yore, the gay and chivalrous assembled, are now weather-worn ruins and roofless cells, echoing only to the tread of the tourist or the sounding storm. The remains of the tower of the Donjon-Keep are very imposing, and command a view of surpassing beauty and extent. While I was upon them, a thunderstorm came up, making the heavens black. The dark smoke belched forth from the thousand towering chimneys in the surrounding valleys, and added a deeper blackness to the angry clouds, while the iron furnaces which cover the landscape sent out the glare of their red flames, making a burning and smoking hell of the plain; nor is the expression too strong when we in- troduce into the picture the swarthy forms of the workmen glid- ing about the apertures to the sunless caves beneath, and the forked lightning as it broke through the black and muttering clouds above. 150 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGH WAY J CHAPTER XII. LICHFIELD — STAFFORDSHIRE POTTERIES — CHESTER — AN OLD FRIEND — PRESTON, ETC. From Birmingham to Lichfield, is a distance of twenty miles, and, as the last-named town is celebrated for being the birthplace of Dr. Johnson, I wended my way thither. It contains one of the finest cathedrals in England, and a sta- tue of the celebrated essayist, both of which are sufficient attrac- tions for the stranger, and draw hundreds to the town who would never think of visiting it without some such objects of interest were there. The building is very large, being 491 feet by 151, and surrounded by a splendid close, or inclosure. It was erected in the year 1180, and suffered much during the civil wars, at which time it was garrisoned by the royalists and besieged by the parliamentary forces. The front is elaborately ornamented, and adorned with a great number of effigies in stone of saints and kings, and exquisitely chiselled scrolls and devices. Some repairs have recently been made, but as they are only partial they rather destroy than add to the beauty of the edifice. The interior is really magnificent, and contains several statues of great beauty, among which are those of Dr. Johnson, Garrick, and Lady Mary Wortloy Montague, and others less distinguished. The finest statuary is a work of Chantrey, erected over the tomb of two chil- dren. The statue of the great lexicographer is neither a fine piece of sculpture nor an attractive one. It is placed in the market- square, not far from the birthplace of the Doctor, and represents him in a recumbent position and thoughtful mood. The panels of the pedestal are ornamented with bas-reliefs, illustrating events in the life of Johnson, and an inscription setting forth that the statue was presented to the town by the chancellor of the dis- trict. Lichfield was once the residence of Dr. Darwin, and the OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 151 house in which he lived and wrote his " Zoonomia" is shown to visitors. At St. John's Free School, Dr. Johnson, Addison, Garrick, and other eminent men, received the rudiments of their education. The town is quiet, and contrasts strongly with its neighbors, "Wolverhampton, Wedneshury, and Walsall, which are under a cloud of black smoke, while the former is open to the clear light of day. As I pursued my way into the country, I turned to look at its fine cathedral, and a glorious scene burst upon my sight. It is a massive and grand pile, soaring above the surrounding build- ings in majestic splendor. The distant prospect of the noble edifice alone should be a sufficient inducement for making a visit to Lichfield. I left the birthplace of the great scholar with feelings akin to regret, strolled along under the shade of the hedges to the station, and took passage to Colwich, in Staffordshire, at which there is a branch railway leading into the Potteries. The village is small, and presents no attractions beyond its church and the walls of a nunnery near by. While waiting for the train, I paid a visit to the place of worship, and gazed around the interior upon the tablets and memorials which the friends of deceased relatives have raised to commemorate the virtues of the dead. In one part is a monument to Sir Thomas Wolsey, who was drowned some hun- dreds of years ago, and whose family has been extinct for ages. The effigy is sadly mutilated, and the face is divested of its nasal appendage, which gives it a comical and ludicrous expression. In the chancel there are several really beautiful tablets to the memory of different members of the Anson family, and a number of me- morials to other individuals less distinguished, and lower in England's classification of men. The nunnery is a short distance from the church, situate on a hill, and surrounded by high walls and shrubbery. It was founded about twelve years ago, and its occupants have the name of being kind to the poor and attentive to the sick and friendless. The village lies a short distance from the station, and is princi- pally built upon one street. The houses are humble places, hun- dreds of years old, mostly covered with ivy, or festooned with 152 TUE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; clambering jessamine and other flowers, and look the very reality of the cottages of English poetry, and, for aught I know, are. They did not detain me long, and taking the train, I was soon carried away, through rural scenery, to the potteries of Stafford- shire. Stoke-upon-Trent, a forbidding town, and its sister villages, Burslem and Lane-End, both of which share its characteristics, constitute the principal part of the earthenware and Chinaware district, and are mean, filthy places, although exhibiting great ac- tivity and bustle. The pottery business is a disagreeable and laborious one in nearly all its branches, and furnishes work to men, women, and children. The ornamental designs which adorn the ware are put on by transferring pictures printed from copperplate engravings. The process is simple, and, when a person sees it applied, there is no mystery as to the manner in which the accurate drawings and exquisite designs are produced on China and other earthenwares. I conversed with numbers of workmen, and all of them appeared very well satisfied with their wages ; but they informed me that it was a bright time for them, and they were fearful it would not last. The towns in this district are straggling places, or rather a con- tinuation of villages. The houses of the operatives have no par- ticular charms, and as the same black coal is used in the furnaces that serves for fuel throughout the kingdom, the atmosphere is filled with smoke, and the dwellings are dingy with soot. The rustics are a clownish set, and mostly dressed in a costume un- known in the United States. Knee-breeches are common, and coarse boots, with soles full three-quarters of an inch thick, filled with heavy nails, are the usual coverings for the feet. The dialect is broad and unintelligible, and unless a stranger has had some previous acquaintance with the jargon of the natives, he is likely to be as far from undcrst-anding their outrageous language as ho would bo the speech of a Kickapoo or Pottawatomie Indian. Wet weather did not improve the appearance of the villages, nor was there anything to detoin mo after examining the manu- factories. So, once more taking train, I proceeded on my journey to Chester, an ancient city, situate on the River Dec, about cigh* teen miles from Liverpool. Tt is walled round, and the houses on OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 153 several of the streets are so built as to form an arcade of the second stories for a considerable distance, which affords a conve- nient promenade and protection to pedestrians in stormy weather. The walls are nearly three miles in length, and pass through the new part .of the city, and around the old. They are a fashionable resort, and present many fine views of the valley of the river, and the surrounding country. At one point is a tower whereon Charles I. stood and witnessed the defeat of his army on a neighboring moor in 1645. Chester is, properly considered, a remarkable town, and it is one that defies description. The traveller may write about the footwalks of the main avenues being in the second stories of the houses, but he cannot convey to the minds of his readers a picture of the reality. To say that you can walk a considerable distance under cover, one story above ground, will give perhaps the best idea of the arcades of Chester to a person who has never seen them. In Trinity Church, in a street called the Watergate, in the lower part of the town, near the walls, are the graves of Par- nell, the poet, and Matthew Henry, the commentator. The sexton conducted me through the edifice, and pointed out the tombs I sought. The tablet to the memory of the bard has been broken, and now lies as rubbish in the vaults beneath the floor ; that to the memory of the divine bears a slight inscription, and is a very plain affair. The most interesting building is the cathedral, a noble Gothic edifice, once used as an abbey. One of the entrances is through an arched way, formerly the garden gate of the ascetics, which leads to the walks connected with the religious establishment. The interior of the structure is adorned with carvings and orna- mental devices, and has a triforium, where, it is said, the nuns of yore were accustomed to sing the praises of the Deity, and bow their sacred heads. Tombs are numerous; but the inhabitants are neither famous nor remarkable for anything but the monuments to their memories, and therefore not worth naming. I visited the silent cells, where of old the Eremites were wont to offer up their orisons, and trod the cloisters with a step solemn and slow, re- flecting upon the ancient day, and the revolutions made by time. 154 THE FOOTPATH AND nianwAY ; The hoary walls, the crumbling fane, and the sacred gloom of the inner court, invested the venerable pile with a charm irresistible in its influences to lead the mind captive to pleasing contemplation and divine melancholy. For some weeks I had been a solitary wanderer in lonely places, without the company of friends, or the gratification of seeing a familiar face. Wherever my wanderings led, there was I alone, until reaching Liverpool, where I unexpectedly met with one of my fellow-passengers, whom I had not seen since we crossed the great deep together. He had been to Italy and through other continental countries since we parted, and bore the effects of for- eign travel upon his face, in the shape of a pair of well cultivated mustaches, which he became admirably. Our meeting was one of sincere pleasure and mutual happiness, and riveted the chain of friendship stronger than before. There was nothing of cold indifference in his manner, and when he grasped my hand a gleam of uncontrolled delight shot across his manly face, and lit up his cheerful countenance. There was a sincerity in that wel- come that will cause me ever to remember my worthy friend and fellow-voyager, Andrew McMakin, Esq., of the Philadelphia ^'American Courier," and esteem him while life lasts. We com- pared notes, asked a thousand questions of each other^ and parted once more to pursue our respective journeys. The great port was, as usual, wet and gloomy, and by no means attractive. I left it for Preston, in Lancashire, a town situate on the River Ribble, a stream of considerable size and great beauty. It is the cleanest of the English manufacturing towns, and presents an appearance entirely different from its sister cities. There is a walk of a mile or more in extent along the river, which affords some fine prospects and much pleasure to the denizens of the place. An arbor of trees forms a promenade on an eminence overlooking the pensive Kibble, and no town of the same size has so many facilities for the rational enjoyment of its inhabitants as l*reston. The streets, in the upper part, are kept in excellent condition; and although the cotton-mills are numerous, still the black smoke of their chimneys does not discolor the houses to the extent that those of Manchester and Sheffield suffer from the sooty OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 155 vapor. The laboring people do not differ from the same class in the other towns, if I may judge from their general appearance; but the mass of the citizens look well, and their condition, with the cleanliness of the place, impresses one favorably with the town and its inhabitants. Arkwright, the inventor of the spinning- mule, was a native of Preston, and realized a fortune in its neigh- borhood. The citizens of the adjoining districts speak lightly of the place, and "Proud Preston, poor people, Low church and high steeple," is regarded as a correct character of it and its denizens. From Preston to Lancaster is a pleasant ride " by rail," and as the road lies near the hills and sea, much that is attractive is to be seen. This town is blessed with an ancient castle, of formidable and imposing appearance, which serves the double purpose, at present, of jail and fortification. Near the place are the Lancas- ter Sands, that part of Morecambe Bay which lies between Ulver- stone and Lancaster, and which is made bare twice a day by the receding tides, excepting the channels of the Rivers Kent and Leven, and over which is a road for carriages and pedestrians. The government pays guides to direct travellers across at the pro- per time ; but, in spite of the precaution, lives are frequently lost, and the passage is a dangerous one, unless a person has an experi- enced pilot. The distance over is eleven miles, and a man must travel pretty fast if he wishes to avoid being overtaken by the ris- ing waters. 156 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; CHAPTER XIII. THE LAKE COUNTRY OP ENGLAND. After leaving the town of Lancaster, I passed rapidly into the mountainous districts of Westmoreland and the lakes. The hills are rugged and rocky, but where the grass grows the surface is of the richest velvet green. I remained a while at the ancient town of Kendal, a place of 13,000 inhabitants, situate on the River Kcnl, a brawling brook, from which it takes its name. The ruins of a castle adjoin the place; and a church of the olden times, con- taining a number of curious monuments and relics of the past, in- vites the stranger to a stroll within its walls. My walk from this mountain village to Windermere was over a rough and hilly road, and, as the day was quite warm, the perspiration rolled from me as I trudged along under a heavy knapsack. The bright and trans- parent waters of the lake at last gladdened my sight, and after a comfortable rest at an inn, I pursued my journey to its sylvan shores. The village of Bowness overlooks the water, and com- mands some fine prospects j but as the highlands partially shut out the view to the south, I plodded on to Ambleside, along the eastern shore of the lake, which village is situated at its northern extremity. Windermere is the largest sheet of water in England, but the scenery is tame, except in the immediate neighborhood of the hamlet just named, at which place the mountains rise majesti- cally to a considerable height, and as I approached them their bold and rugged fronts stood out in wild beauty against the even- ing sky. Ambleside lies in a valley, near a stream called the Rothay, which connects Rydal Water with its more extensive neighbor, and is principally important as a temporary residence of tourists to the surrounding country. The majority of the in- habitants keep furnished lodgings for visitors, and the traveller finds but little difficulty in obtaining excellent accommodations 157 in a private house, with all the retirement of a home, at moderate charges. I entered the village tired enough, and, observing a notice of 'lodgings to let'' conspicuously displayed in the front window of a comely little cottage, I made application for them, and was ac- cepted as a renter. The hostess was a plain young Scotch woman, of agreeable manners, and cheerful disposition. She conducted me to my allotted apartments, and hastened to prepare my tea. The sleeping-room was clean to a fault, the sheets and quilts white as snow, the place neatly carpeted, and provided with table and chairs. A little girl brought me a pitcher of water, and with a slight tap at the door asked me what further I would require, and what I would have for tea. She took my order with a smile of ac- knowledgment, and noiselessly descended the stair to aid her mo- ther in fulfilling it. In due time she again tapped at my door, and with a courtesy and smile, said, " Please, sir, tea is ready." At her bidding I followed to the dining-room. The meal was prepared with care, the cloth was spotless white, the tea-set clear China, and the apartment plain but neat. Hot water had been poured into the cup to keep it warm, and the bread was cut into thin slices, buttered, for my convenience. "If you require anything," said the little dame, "please ring the bell, sir;" and, with a smile of cheerfulness, she left me alone. The tea had been drawn, the egg was done to a nicety, and my meal was grateful. The master, as the father of a family is designated in England, whether high or low, returned home, shortly after ; but a formal recognition, as if he felt himself inferior to me, was all he uttered. The wife and child were like him, and neither of them ventured to converse with me, even at my solicitation. They preserved a respectful silence when I spoke, or replied in monosyllables, not knowing what to make of me. I did not persevere in my attempts to encourage them to sociability, as they were clearly unaccus- tomed to meet lodgers who put them on terms of equality. I considered myself fortunate in obtaining a home with mine host, 14 168 THE FOOTPATH AND manwAY; and after a short rest from a fatiguing walk, clambered up Lough- rigg Fell, a bold jutting mountain which rises immediately at the head of the lake, and affords a comprehensive and magnificent prospect of the surrounding country. Windermere stretches away to the south, its shores lined with gradually sloping hills, while minor basins of water lie among the surrounding mountains, and rapid streams foam and roar at the foot of the rocky highland. Behind, to the north, the highest peaks loom up to the skies with their broken and irregular summits, while in the vale beneath lies the little town, with its church spire pointing to heaven, like a startled dove nestling under the broad shadow of the mountain. Rydal Knab or Knab Scar, near the residence of the poet Words- worth, forms the background to the picture that way in connec- tion with bold and towering cliffs, and to the west the scenery is wild and chaotic, giving a strong impression of what is the savage grandeur of more rugged mountain districts. At the foot of the hill in that direction there is a village, and beyond iJie valley rises the tower of a really beautiful church (surmounted by a cross), perched upon a knoll in a meadow of the brightest green, along the borders of which rushes a crystal stream which takes its rise among the springs of the Langdale Pikes, two high hills to the north-west. The view comprehends the principal mountains of that section of the island, and affords distant prospects of Conis- ton and other lakes in addition to Windermere. One of the best walks about Ambleside is that along the west- ern shore of the Rothay. The high cliffs of Loughrigg Fell and its neighboring hills overhang innumerable cottages and villas of great beauty, whose walls are partially hid by an umbrageous growth of ivy and clambering roses. The dark hills rise abruptly and precipitously behind these elfin haunts, and add greatly to the charms of the little domiciles. The village of liydal contains but few dwellings, nearly all of which arc of the character of those to which reference has just been made. Wordsworth's house is a secluded cottage, quietly perched upon the side of a towering and jagged mountain, which rises like a black wall behind it, while around is a thick growth of trees, and near by a modest little church. The lake is a sheet of transparent water about half a 159 mile long, completely encircled by hills, whose frowning fore- heads overshadow its glassy surface. A road winds along its shores, and at one point, at the northern end, the old highway leads over a rocky pass to the adjacent water of Grasmere, in the church of which village is Wordsworth's grave. The view from this road (which is only used by pedestrians at present) either way is splendid, and amply repays the tourist for climbing up its rugged and stony surface. The two sheets of water are small, clear, and picturesque, and present a scene of great splendor. Far away to the north of Grasmere village, which lies on the shores of the lake in a verdant valley, looms up Helm Crag, on whose summit nature has performed a singular freak, by so dis- posing some heavy fragments of rock as to form the perfect figure of a huge lion couchant, with flowing mane, and ponderous paw resting upon what appears to be the body of a dead lamb. The illusion is perfect, and the forms clearly and distinctly defined. Around, high hills rise up, and with the exception of a road lead- ing over Dunmail Raise, a pass at the northern end of the valley, there is no apparent outlet from Grasmere. The aspect of the country under a bright sun is fine, but when the god of day de- parts, and evening's shadows fall on the sides of the hills, the prospect is one of singular beauty. The rich, soft, velvety ver- dure peculiar to the humid atmosphere of England becomes mag- nificent to the eye in the long twilight, and when the hills are covered with it, the effect is exquisite. I rambled for miles around the lakes named, and sought out secluded retreats by roaring cascades and rapid mountain rills, where it was pleasure ** To sit on rocks and muse o'er flood and fell, Or slowly trace the forest's shady scene." I never had a great partiality for the bards of the Lake School, and confess myself unable to comprehend much of Wordsworth's heavy verse; but I admire their haunts, and agree that they exhibited taste in the selection of their homes. Nowhere can the poet find scenery better calculated to win him from the world» than in Cumberland and Westmoreland. Rude, rugged nature is IGO there untamed and wild; and when looking down into the chasms between the hills, from the crown of Loughrigg Fell, Shelley's sublime lines flash upon the mind : — " Is this the spot where the giant earthquake Taught her young ruin ?" And in wandering along the roaring streams and quiet meadows of the vales, wherein the husbandman labors under the shadow of the rocky walls of the mountain, a quiet musing steals into your soul, and you wonder, not that England has produced so many poets, but that ^e has produced so few. Almost every English- man should be a bard. Near Ambleside are some faint traces still visible of a Roman fortification, built by that heroic and wonderful people when they held possession of that remote and secluded country. They arc near the head of Windermere, and under the shadows of Lough- rigg Fell, and served as a post in olden time for the protection of the interests of Rome in the mountain sections of England. A road then led over the top of one of the mountains, connecting with other military points further north, and at this day tiles are occa- sionally dug up, which once formed a part of that paved way. After nearly a week's residence at the quiet village, I set out on a pedestrian journey to Keswick, at Derwent water, but unfortu- nately was taken ill on the road, and compelled to return. In passing the head of Rydal Water, I encountered a gypsy camp, in which were several of that people. They were a rough, ill- looking set, filthy and wretchedly poor, and their general appear- ance did not lead me to desire an intimate acquaintance. Their tent was pitched under a ledge of rocks, and several of them were stretched out on the grass along the lake shore, while an old woman was busily engaged in preparing their morning's meal. I passed them without entering into conversation, and was entirely satisfied to get out of their vicinity, as their vagabond looks fully satisfied me that honesty of purpose was not a main feature of their characters. I pursued my route for six miles from Amble- side, and then returned, and remained until my health was com- paratively restored. OR^ WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 161 In my invalid state, I took occasional walks and drives in the vicinity, and once extended my rambles as far as the church at Grasmere. The shrine is now the tomb of Wordsworth, and on my visit a neat tablet with a medallion likeness of the poet had just been placed in the wall. The bard worshipped at times in the edifice, and quietly sleeps where he was wont to listen to the strains of the morning hymn. Both he and Byron are buried in humble village churches, and both tombs are alike the objects of pilgrimages. In ray strolls around the country, I met several parties of Germans with their knapsacks at their sides, slowly walking along, and admiring the scenery. They were gentlemanly, and appeared much pleased to meet an American. They nearly always took me for an Englishman, and treated me as such until I informed them otherwise, when they at once became sociable and commu- nicative. One of the party usually spoke English, and did the conversational part in that language at hotels and in company, while the others occasionally put in a word or listened to what was said. Several of those whom I met were students from Berlin and Heidelberg, passing the summer vacation in England, and all of them were sociable, intelligent, and friendly. From Lake Windermere to the head of Coniston Water, there is a broken country, greatly diversified, which presents some splendid prospects. Soon after leaving the village, the tall peaks of Langdale Pikes rise upon the sight, and then follow Wether- lamb and Coniston Old Man, one of the tallest peaks in England. The village of Hawkshead is on the route, and is remarkable for being the place at which Wordsworth, Coleridge, and others of equal distinction, received the rudiments of their education. It is a small, straggling hamlet, in a valley, between the hills which line the shores of Windermere and Coniston lakes, and never would receive a visit, were it not for its favorable and romantic location. Coniston Water is a much more pleasing and secluded lake, though smaller than Windermere. Tall mount- ains rise around it, and the village of the same name, at its northern extremity, is in every respect handsome. My ride through this part of the country was agreeable, and as the driver 14* 162 THE FOOTPATU AND niGHWAY J was an admirer of nature, and well acquainted with the beauties of the route, the time was passed profitably and satisfactorily. We entered the town of Broughton, and after looking at its attractions, I took my departure for Furness Abbey, one of those ancient ruins so numerous in England, which owe their origin to the monks of old. It is situate in a secluded valley called the Glen of Deadly Nightshade, from the quantity of that plant which grows there, and its extensive walls bear ample testimony to its former greatness. One of the gates of the outer wall still remains entire, and the great east window rises to the height of fifty-four feet, while the towers and walls around add grandeur to the majestic pile. — Like all the abbeys, it is in the Gothic style of architecture, and the ivy, as it twines around and through the arches and windows, gives ornament to the ruin. At present, there is a hotel close to it, where tourists are accommodated, and the walks in the grounds have been improved and restored so as to afibrd pleasant rambles to those who love to stroll through the retreats once sacred to the eremite and recluse. From Fur- ness Abbey to Morecambe Bay is but a short distance, and thence passengers are carried by steamboat to Fleetwood, a dis- tance of sixteen miles or more. Near Piel (the railway terminus from the monastery) is an island, on which are the remains of a castle of considerable extent, but now useless and deserted, stand- ing a lonely monument of decayed power and greatness in that section of Great Britain. I passed through Preston and the old town of Wigan, to Liverpool, regretting my inability to complete the entire circuit of the English lakes, but content with the beauty of those I was fortunate enough to visit. OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 168 CHAPTEH XIV. GLASGOW — ITS APPEARANCE — CATHEDRAL AND UNIVERSITY. The fogs which occur on the English coast prevent the traveller by sea from obtaining good views of the shore, and obscure the land during more than half the time. In a trip by steamer from Liverpool to the Clyde, I was deprived of the coast scenery in consequence of the hazy weather, and although the vessel ran tolerably near the shore, no part of it was visible. After being at sea all night, we neared Scotland, and at early dawn I beheld for the first time " Tlie land of brown heath and shaggy wood," in the shape of Ailsa Craig, a bold conical rock which rises from the ocean off the Ayrshire coast. The Frith of Clyde is wide and deep, being an arm of the sea extending inland a consider- able distance — its northern shores lined with high hills, while away in the blue distance loom up the softened outlines of the Scottish mountains. The Isle of Arran was soon passed, after Ailsa Craig, and then rose to view the Castle and Kock of Dum- barton. The city of Greenock and other places on the shore commanded our attention, but I saw nothing particularly worthy of note, except the walls of Newark Castle, until near the termi- nus of the canal which connects the Clyde and Forth, at which point rise the ruins of Dunglass Castle, in which is a plain monu- ment of some twenty feet in height to the memory of Henry Bell, the first successful steam navigator of the Clyde. The walls of the castle are overgrown with ivy, and as the old pile stands upon a small promontory, it presents a pretty scene. The river grows very narrow as the traveller approaches the city after leaving Greenock, and the channel is traceable by a number of round stone towers, about sixteen feet high, placed 1G4 THE FOOTPATH AND nranwAY; at regular distances on both sides of the stream nearly up to Glasgow. Each pyramid is surmounted by a wooden cross, and the whole number have a fine appearance when seen in perspec- tive by one looking either up or down the river. The Clyde is not more than two hundred yards wide for four or five miles be- low the city, and is extremely diflBcult of navigation. Glasgow lies on both sides of the stream, and presents a beautiful pros- pect when approached by the river. The harbor is admirable, being wide and convenient, and walled on either side. It was crowded with shipping as we entered, and one particular vessel of splendid form, with tall tapering spars, was the subject of much conversation among our passengers. The English tourists on board were lauding her model, and boasting that she was equal to any clipper ever built in Yankee-land, taking for granted she was British; -when a man was seen busy at the color halyards of the stranger, and in an instant the starry flag of the great Re- public rose beautifully to the mast-head of the saucy craft, and a murmur of delight ran along our decks. I felt considerable na- tional pride at the incident. As we neared the ship, we read on her stern, with some surprise, the words "Liberty — New York.'' It was Sunday when we landed, and quiet reigned in the town. A young man from the Province of New Brunswick and myself took a stroll along the Green early in the afternoon, where we saw numbers of men and women lying on the grass, barefooted and indifferently clad. The women wore a shawl over the head, and the men, generally, the old-fashioned Scotch cap. At sevcnil places stands were erected, from which preachers were addressing collections of people, a common thing in Scotland of a Sunday, as we afterwards learned. The men were city missionaries, and staying at home trying to convert tho heathens there, instead of going abroad to preach to those less savage. The Green is an inclosure on tho northern shore of tho river, within whoso limits there is a drive twelve miles in extent. The ground is in a pleasant location, and must become a grand park at some future period ; but it never will be fashionable so long as crowds of ragged men and women are permitted to roll and wal- OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 165 low together on tbe grass in broad daylight. There is a fine monument to Nelson in the space, one hundred and forty-three feet high, said to be a copy of Trajan's Pillar at Rome. The streets at the west end of Glasgow are handsome, and far more attractive than those of London. The houses are built of an ash-colored sandstone, which is easily worked, and as it does not readily absorb the smoke of the bituminous coal, it keeps clean for a considerable time. Rows of buildings and whole streets are constructed of it. Argyle, Buchanan, and Queen Streets are the principal thoroughfares, and they are lined with handsome shops, dwellings, and public edifices, nearly all of which are of the stone alluded to. The Exchange and some of the banks are solid, imposing structures. The residences at the west end are the finest erections, and command especial notice. They excel, in many cases, the much extolled palaces of the fashionable quar- ter of London, and are both pretty and clean externally. The city lies on very irregular ground, and forcibly reminds the American of Baltimore in some particulars; a place it very much resembles, both in the number of its hills and the variety of its monuments. In St. George's Square, there is a fluted Doric column to the memory of Sir Walter Scott, eighty feet high; and pedestrian statues to Sir John Moore, and Watt, the improver of the steam- engine ; while in front of the Exchange is a bronze equestrian image of Wellington, and in the Irongate, at the Market Cross, one of William of Orange. The old part of the city is dull and singular. The streets are narrow, the houses high. They are mostly inhabited by the poor, and built in a style of architecture by no means fascinating. The new streets are wide, straight, and clean. They cross each other at right angles, and are well paved and lighted. The Bromelaw fronts on the Clyde, and is very wide, affording a fine view the entire length of the city, looking down stream from the bridge. It is a noble avenue, not unlike the Levee at New Orleans in some respects, and at times almost as much crowded. The bridge across the river is not so large, but in every way as strongly built as Lon- don Bridge. The traveller who has visited the English cities 166 THE FOOTPATH AND HIOnWAT; before going to Glasgow forms a favorable opinion of the Scottish commercial capital, and sees less that is objectionable in its streets than will meet his gaze in the majority of the seaports of England. The inhabitants are friendly and intelligent, but cautious and distrustful. They are active and industrious, and keep their streets tolerably free from beggars, so much so as to cause the stranger who has been in England to notice the fact. Near the city, on a mount once a retreat of the Druids, is a modern burial-place called the Necropolis, which contains many tombs. The land is high, rugged, and commanding; and it affords a fine prospect of the surrounding country. On the very summit stands a towering monument to John Knox, the Reformer, on the top of which is a fine statue of the stem Presbyterian holding a Bible in one hand, and apparently look- ing down upon his native city with an ever watchful eye. The grounds are tastefully laid out, and many of the tombs are chaste and elegant. One to Motherwell, the poet, is particularly good on account of the fine bust of the bard it contains. I noticed much affectation of grief in the forms and epitaphs of some of the tombs, and one or two of them were overstrained attempts at originality and eccentricity deserving rebuke. As we were com- ing out of the ground, a man in the costume of a laborer was applying for admittance, but was not allowed to enter, " because," said the gatekeeper, "you are not dressed well enough." They don't bury poor people in that graveyard, thought I. Immediately below the Necropolis, on the opposite bank of the Molindinar Burn, located on high ground, stands the ancient Cathedral of Glasgow, one of the splendid structures of the Catholics, erected as early as 1133. It lies directly in front of the statue of the great Reformer, and makes, when viewed from the eminence, a fine foreground to the splendid prospect below. The crypt is a noble work; and the roof considered by competent judges one of the best specimens of Gothic groining and ma.sonry extant. It is within it that Sir "Walter Scott laid one of the finest scenes in " Rob Roy," and being desirous \o learn the precise place, I made inquiry of the old sexton. He grew eloquent at once, and replied : ••' Ycr standin* on it noo, mon. That's just the OR, WANDERINGS Or AN AMERICAN. 167 spot, and there is the column against which the pulpit was raised in which the minister was preaching. Francis Osbaldistone leaned against this shaft, and Andrew Fairservice, ye ken him ? stood alang-side o' Francis, and as he was learned in the true doctrines o' the kirk, listened whether the preacher said onything contrary to John Knox's views. While they were standin' there, Rob Roy cam' in by that door, and, stealing stealthily behind Francis, touched his shoulder, and whispered him that Rashleigh was in town to assassinate him. Ye knaw the rest. Ah ! yes, that's just the vary place ; but there are nae many persons ask me aboot it. Ye maun hae read much o' Sir Walter's writing, or I'm mista'en." I told him that my reading was not extensive, but what it was I remembered, and asked him for the great column to which the novelist makes allusion. ^^ There," said he, pointing to a glo- rious supporter of the gloomy crypt. " That's it, an' it's a' solid stone and mortar ; and there is the main arch ; eight different arches spring from that, and it's considered by architects the finest piece o' masonry in Scotland. When her Majesty was here, she asked aboot it, and stood just where ye are now when I showed it her.'^ The old fellow praised the queen, and, in his laudations of her, forgot the splendid work. It is massive and wonderful, convincing the modern how superior the ancients were in architecture. Until within a few years, the building was gradually falling to decay, and the crypt was scarcely ever visited in consequence of the dampness of the department, and the faint light which entered through the choked-up windows. The government sent an archi- tect down from London to put it in repair and restore it as far as possible ; which work was admirably done, and the old pile is now clean and well lighted, affording the traveller an opportunity of examining it thoroughly. On the wall of the north porch is a slab of marble erected to the memory of nine persons named, who, according to the inscrip- tion, " suffered at the Cross of Glasgow for their testimony to the covenants and works of reformation, because they durst not own the authority of the then tyrants destroying the same, betwixt 168 THE FOOTPATH AND HIOnWAT ; 1666 and 1688." Some verses of indiflferent merit follow, and though the prose record is badly written, it evidently alludes to the murders perpetrated during the viceroy alty of James the Second in Scotland when Duke of York, and after, while he sat on the throne of Great Britain as king. The famous university is a sombre, heavy Gothic building, in a gloomy part of the olden city, and has no attractions beyond its age and the celebrated names connected with it. The principal room is a lofty apartment, but slightly furnished, and now used as a reading-room by the faculty. The grounds are large, but not in good order, although they were then undergoing consider- able improvement, and in a few years will be a splendid pro- menade. At the eastern extremity, on the side of the hill under a row of thorns, is the scene of the encounter between Rashleigh and Francis Osbaldistone, so graphically described by Scott in "Rob Roy." An old gardener conducted me to the spot. "But/' said he, "the place is changed since Sir Walter's day." And truly it is. The Molindinar Burn is now arched over, and flows along under a covering of bricks and mortar, no longer forming the main feature in the landscape, nor adding to the beauties of the grounds. All old cities have something historical to claim attention, and those places mentioned in the preceding paragraphs are the princi- pal ones in Glasgow. A few days did not allow much opportunity for learning the habits of the people, or their social condition. I was content with a hasty glance at the city, and not disposed to search out places of folly or wretchedness. Mine host was a true Scot, and his house abominably dirty, and by no means deserving public patronage, although he thought otherwise. Before leaving, I went into a bookstore, on one of the principal streets, to purchase a copy of Tannahill's Poems, when, observ- ing the volume handed me was printed in Belfast, I asked whether it was perfect. " That I can't tell," replied the shop- man; "but suspect not, as the only things really perfect we can get from Ireland are — beggars !" It appears that Pat and Sawney don't love each other violently. OR; WANDERINGS Or AN AMERICAN. 169 CHAPTER XV. AYR — BURNS'S COTTAGE — KIRK ALLOWAF, AND "THE BANKS O' DOON." The lands made celebrated by Burns are now included in the European tour, and he who does not visit them is considered de- ficient in taste. I went to Ayr, through the towns of Paisley, Irvin, and Troon, and passed several hours in peaceful reflection on the classic "banks o' bonnie Doon.'^ The town of Ayr lies on both sides of the river from which it takes its name, and within sight of the ocean. The " auld brig" is decidedly and undenia- bly ugly, with a narrow thoroughfare for foot-passengers only. The main arch is sprung, leading the observer to think the boast made by the structure, in the poem, "I'll be a brig when you're a shapeless cairn!" will most signally fail of fulfilment, as the new viaduct is both solid and in good condition. Ayr is outrageously filthy, very badly paved, has crooked streets, considerable shipping, an old castle, once famous, but now a soldier's barracks. There is a fine statue of Wallace, the great patriot of Scotland, in a niche in front of the Town Hall, sculp- tured by Thom, the famous self-taught artist of Ayrshire ; and it redeems the town from contempt. The day was delightfully clear, and favorable to pedestrianism. I walked out to the birthplace of the poet, along a pleasant road, lined, the greater part of the distance, with hedges of thorns. On some parts of the route there were splendid fields waving with yellow grain, ready for the sickle, and old and young were busy gathering the bountiful harvest. At a turn in the road, about two miles from the town, I sud- denly came upon a cottage, over the door of which there is a sign- 15 170 setting forth that within its walls Robert Burns, the great bard of Scotland, was born. I entered the **clay biggin," and was shown into the room in which the poet first drew breath, and passed a half hour under the straw-thatched roof, where pilgrims from every section of the world have been to pay homage to the genius of the Ayrshire ploughman. The walls are adorned with some good engravings, illustrative of different works of Burns, and a likeness of the bard. One of the pictures there, at my visit, was a scene from the "Cotter's Saturday Night," wherein the patriarchal sire is represented reading from the " big ha' Bible" before offering up a petition to the throne of mercy. The very room in which I sat suggested the scene to the bard, and there he often witnessed the incident he has so beautifully described in never-dying verse. The frame around the portrait of the poet is cut and carved full of the names of visitors, who have in this way sought celebrity. The book for the signatures of pilgrims wad" handed to me, and on looking over its pages I noticed the name of "A. Tennyson," written in a hand as delicate as the breathings of his own muse. The simple line had far more real admiration for the bard in it, in my eyes, than the many other names on the page, to which were attached stupid verses and senseless prose. The ruins of Alloway Kirk are a short distance from the cot- tage, and near the monument of the bard on the " banks and braes o' bonnie Boon." The old bell still hangs in the solitary belfry, and swings when " chill November's surly blasts" hurry furiously through the roofless and lonely house of prayer. All the wood- work of the edifice has been carried off ns mementos, and the burial-ground is a mausoleum for the dead, many of whom have been brought miles to be buried there. Tlie tomb of Burns's father stands immediately in front of the church, and around are the graves of many who made a last request to bo interred in the ground made celebrated by the genius of the peasant poet. The monument of the bard is near the church, and between it and the " Auld brig o' Boon," on which Tarn's mare Meggy met with her misfortune. The grounds around tlio tribute are tastefully laid out, and rich in flowers. The vestibule of the temple con- tains a marble bust of the bard, which, for beauty, exceeds any OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 171 head T ever saw represented in sculpture. It is more than beau- tiful — it is glorious; and if it be a faithful likeness of Burns, then was he one of the noblest of men in form as well as mind. There is the high and comprehensive forehead — the bare temples, so strongly indicative of poetic excellence — and the massive brow and well developed organs, which so clearly indicate the giant intellect. It is the very soul of the poet, in inspiring thought, fixed in triumphant marble, as though the artist had caught the expression of the deepest and purest inspiration as it lit up the face of the poet, and stamped it forever on imperishable Parian stone. The appearance is divine, and the pallid marble almost breathes thought. The waving locks fall in thick clusters over the ample forehead, and the rich drapery rests in soft folds on the breast and shoulders of the figure. In a case in the same department are the Bibles presented by Burns to "Highland Mary,^' and several other relief of the bard. I plucked a fragrant rose from the garden, and walked down to the crystal, gurgling Doon, immediately along-side the ancient bridge, which with one high and splendid arch spans the famous stream. The scenery is pretty, and the thick umbrageous wood on the banks, and the twining ivy which clings to the ''keystone of the brig,'' and hangs in rich festoons over the walls, give a double charm to the secluded spot. I there met an intelligent, gentlemanly young Scotchman, and a beautiful girl, who, I strongly suspected, was not his sister. They entered into conver- sation with me, and became quite sociable. He was on the eve of departure for India, and had come, perhaps for the last time, to pass a few hours on ''the banks and braes of bonnie Doon" before leaving his affianced bride and native land for the burning sands and sultry suns of a distant tropical clime. We wandered along the banks of the stream, and passed several hours agreeably together, after which I returned to Ayr, taking with me some ivy leaves, and my stolen rose as mementos of a pleasant visit to one of the places made world-renowned by genius ! 172 TUE FOOTPATH AND niGnWAT; CHAPTER XVI. THE SCOTTISH LAKES — AN INCIDENT ON LOCH KETURIN. From Glasgow down the Clyde, past Kelvin Grove and Dum- barton's bonny dell, to where the frowning rocks overshade the broad river, and then on, up the banks of Leven Water, and past the monument to Smollett which rises on its shores, to Balloch at the foot of Loch Lomond, occupies but little time, and affords a pleasant treat to him who takes delight in fine scenery. A small steamer traverses the inky waters of the "queen of Scottish lakes," and takes its passengers under the shadows ^ the rugged hills which line the shores, thereby giving the tourist the advantage of viewing both sides of the Loch in ascending and descending. I embarked early in the morning, when the mists were slowly roll- ing up the mountain sides before the rays of the sun, which pene- trated their vapory forms, and soon was launched upon Loch Lomond's surface. The lake is about twenty-three miles long and live in width at the widest place, and studded at the southern end with a number of small islands, which sit in its black waters like emerald gems in a sea df ebony. The hills which line the shores are mostly of a pyramidal form, and resemble the highlands of the Hudson very much ; in fact, the scenery on the North llivcr is equal, if not superior, to the wildest on Loch Lomond, including the tall peaks of Ben Voirlich, Ben Duchray, Ben Arthur, and the world-famed and cloud-crowned Ben Lomond. At the north- ern extremity of the lake the waters become deep and narrow, and the huge hills rise to the very clouds on either shore. Ben Lomond does not, however, present such a bold front as one would suppose, and its summit is too flat and rounded to impress the mind with a sense of awe, or even intense admiration. The mists shut out tho distant hills at the north, but south, as far as the eye could see, the view was unbroken, and the bright rays of the OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 173 sun lit up the mountain tops and tipped the trees with gold. I met a gentleman from Philadelphia on the boat, and he and I enjoyed the scenery together, until we arrived at Inversnaid land- ing, at which point I parted with my townsman, and set out on a solitary walk to Loch Keturin, over the bleak and desolate country which lies between the two lakes. Ben Lomond was hard to climb, and after ascending its-^ sides for some distance, the vapors en- veloped me in their cold embrace, and prudence dictated a retreat, which was soon accomplished. To have reached the mountain's summit was possible, but foolish, as the rain began to fall and the top was clothed in clouds, while below the landscape was obscured from sight by a thick haze. I therefore trudged on alone along a dreary road over the heath, so often of yore trod by Rob Koy and the warriors of his clan, and enjoyed in solitude the scenery of the desolate landscape. At one point on the road, I crossed an old stone bridge which spans a roaring mountain hum, and ascend- ing a hill came to the ruins of Inversnaid fort, a military post, erected by the government, in 1713, to protect the district against the inroads of the clan MacGregor. The lonely fortress is now deserted, and both the soldiers who occupied it, and the mountain chieftains whose vengeance it often roused, have passed to another world. I sat down within its walls, and after a short rest rambled around the remains, near which I discovered several tombstones ; but the inscriptions were so much defaced that it would have puzzled Old Mortality himself to clearly decipher them. All that I could learn was that they covered the graves of some soldiers of the Buffs who died while on duty at the fort in 175^0. The fortress was once the residence of General Wolfe, and it is stated that he received the rudiments of his military education within its limits, in the days of border warfare. I stopped in my walk at the cottage of Rob Roy, and convers- ed a short time with several Highlanders in that smoked and straw-thatched abode. They live better than the Irish peasantry who inhabit the country in the vicinity of Cork, and are blest with a degree of education above what would be expected from their isolated condition. The hut is lighted with windows; and bedding and household furniture afford the occupants comfort and 15* 174 THE FOOTPATH AND UIGnWAY; comparative ease. The men were a rougli-looking set, and their appearance did not lead me to think they would be very desir- able companions in a forest of a dark night, although I may be mistaken in my estimate of their characters. The women, with one exception, were anything but handsome ; and she who was the exception was as pretty a little lassie as ever melted the obdurate heart of a crusty bachelor. The hospitality of the wo- men was tendered me in a glass of ^'mountain dew," and as the morning was damp and chilly, I found the liquid agreeable and refreshing. About midway betwen the two large bodies of water, I passed a pretty little lake, called Loch Arklet, from which flows a crystal stream which falls into Loch Lomond at Inversnaid, and forms at that place a beautiful mountain cascade, of considerable height. The dark shadows of the Highlands cover the entire surface of the valley, and the huge peak of Ben Lomond rises like a wall at its western extremity, and seemingly shuts out all communica- tion with the world that way, while to the east the waters of Loch Keturin afford an outlet from the secluded glen. I reached that lake in good time, and met a party of persons waiting for the steamer, among whom was a young Prussian, a professor, from one of the colleges at Magdeburg, and a nobler-looking man never crossed my path. He was tall and finely formed ; wore a thick mustache, but no other part of his beard, which became him wonderfully well, and set off" one of the handsomest faces in the world. We were foreigners, and a mutual feeling of friend- ship sprung up between us at once, which improved and strength- ened while we continued together. Wo embarked upon the little steamer, and sailed slowly down the transparent lake, enjoying the rich scenery of its shores. The tall peaks of Benvcnuc and Benean arose clear and distinct to view aa wo approached their giant forms, and every portion of the country became familiar through Scott's graphic descriptions, from the rich scenery around the fairy-like Trossachs, to the classic island of " the Lady of the Lake." Wo took up our quarters at the hotel for the night, and, as the moon was in its full, enjoyed a treat not often shared by the visitor to Loch Keturin. As soon aa the twilight faded out, OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 175 my German friend, myself, and several others procured a skiff, and shot from the dark shadows of Benvenue on to the moon-lit water. There we were in all our glory, and a young Highlander, who was of our company, could restrain his enthu- siasm no longer, and under the influence of the time, place, and scene, sang in glorious tones the " MacGregor's Gathering." It was the very hour and spot for it, and, as the musical strains of his voice gave sound to the words — The moon 's on the lake, and the mist 's on the brae, And the clan has a name that is nameless by day : Then gather, gather, gather, Gregalich ! we set up a shout in chorus to his song, which echoed again and again, until Benean answered to Benvenue, and the very mists on the brae quivered in the sound, as though they once more were disturbed by the cry of Clan Alpine. Ay ! it was inspiring, and my German friend took as much delight in it as if he had been a Scot bred and born. The young Highlander stood in the stern of the boat, with his plaid over his shoulders, and with pa- triotic enthusiasm, heightened by our applause, finished the song. As each verse was completed, we made the air tremble with our shouts, and at the following stanza the whole of us arose, and sent up such a cry as almost split the rocky sides of Benvenue : — If they rob us of name, and pursue us with beagles, Give their roofs to the flame and their flesh to the eagles. Then vengeance, vengeance, vengeance, Gregalich ! The Highlander sang the last line as if he meant every word of it, and the shrill sound of his voice came back from the land through our wild cheers, like the sharp cutting of a two-edged sword. The mists began to gather along the shores, and, after proceed- ing up the lake about two miles, our boatmen turned the skiff homeward, and the young Scot sang, with spirit and enthusiasm, the wild lyric which Sir Walter puts in the mouths of Roderich Dhu's retainers while sailing down the very lake on which we were gayly moving. It was appropriate and splendid : — 176 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; ** Row, vassals, row, for the pride of the liighlands, Stretch to your oars for the evergreen pine ; ! that the rosebud that graces yon islands Were wreathed in a garland around him to twine! ! that some seedling gem Worthy such noble stem Honored and blest in their shadow might grow ! Loud should Clan Alpine, then, Ring from the deepmost glen, Roderigh Vich Alpine, dhu, ho! iero." The oarsmen stretched cheerfully to their work, and we reached the landing at a seasonable hour, and returned to the hotel highly pleased with our moonlight excursion on Loch Keturin, and al- most unwilling to seek the embraces of the drowsy god. The following morning was beautifully clear, and our time was spent in rowing about the lake or in walks along its shores, on the land made poetic ground by Scott. The mountains are cloth- ed almost to their summits with wood, and the valleys are beau- tiful retreats. The lover of poetry is familiar with the poem in which the landscape is described ; and it would be folly in me to transcribe what is in nearly every man's recollection, and what has become trite from constant repetition. We took stage in the afternoon for Callendar, and rode over every inch of ground traversed by Fitz James in the chase. The smaller lakes were soon passed, and then we came to the scene of encounter between the Gael and the Saxon ! The whip pointed out the place where Roderich astonished Fitz James, by summoning his clan, and dosed us to the full with line after line of the poem. Our com- pany grew merry, and a flask of '^ mountain dew" circulated free- ly among us as we approached the spot, of yore the gathering ground of Clan Alpine. Near the place is a thick wood, said by the Highlanders to be the resort of the river demon, who delights to forebode and witness evil on the spot. Our company did not, however, meet with the seer of destiny, and a more cheerful set of fellows never passed through the " wood of lamentation" than on that occasion. The driver looked solemn, and called in vain to us to respect the place. Ilis warning was useless; the Scotch fluid was exhilarating; and wo had the consolation of OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 177 knowing that it was by no means bad. The opposition stage was ahead, and on dashed our horses to overtake it, which was done in gallant style at the point where the remains of a Roman fortifica- tion stand as a monument of the power of that great people, and near the scene of combat between Fitz James and Roderich Dhu. We stopped at the village of Callendar, where my Ger- man friend parted company with us, and pursued his way to the Highlands, while we shortly after proceeded on to Stirling. The country, as we receded from the mountains, became highly cultivated, and by the time we reached the banks of the rapid Teith, fields of waving grain and fine parks encircled us. We passed the town of Doune, on the banks of the stream named, and had a view of its ruined castle as we crossed a splendid bridge which spans the river a few yards above the old stronghold. It is square in form, and its walls are eighty feet high and ten thick. The stream is a rapid, roaring body of water, and flows along-side the fortress, which was once the residence of Mary Queen of Scots, when she was in the heyday of her love for Darnley, at which period she and her husband occupied it as a hunting-seat. It was built by Murdoch, Duke of Albany, who was afterwards executed within sight of it on a hill at Stirling. We entered that old city at an early hour, and I wended my way through narrow, crooked, and steep streets to the castle, which stands on a hill of great height, the western side of which rises almost perpendicularly from the valley of Stirling. The castle is a barracks for soldiers, and heavy guns bristle on the walls as formidably as of old, when border warfare and intestine commotions made it necessary to keep it in repair and well defended. A soldier guided me through the fortress, and pointed out the various fields of battle in the neighborhood, twelve of which are to be seen from the eminence. The winding Forth runs through the valley to the north of the town, and countless well-cultivated fields lie in the splendid plain below. The scene, with one exception, surpasses all I ever be- held, and repays a man doubly over for the trouble of ascending the hill. To the north, the Grampian and Ochil Hills bound the view; while to the west the frowning summits of Ben Lomond, Ben Nevis, and Benvenue rise to the skies and form a barrier to 178 the sight. Toward the east, the eye can trace the horizon resting on the German Ocean, and the turrets and walls of the distant Castle of Edinburgh; while in the foreground are the field of Bannockburn and the mountain-town of Stirling. I remained for some time enjoying the prospect, and descended in time to visit the Marathon of Scotland, and tread its hallowed sod. The grain grows luxuriantly from its soil, and the sickle of the husbandman, instead of the sword of the warrior, gathers from its surface at present the harvest of peace and plenty, instead of that of tears and death. The old church of Stirling is divided into two places of wor- ship, in one of which James the Sixth was crowned, when but an infant, on which occasion John Knox preached the sermon. It was once a Gray friars or Franciscan fane, and its splendid Gothic ornaments look too rich for a Presbyterian house of prayer. Many curious scenes have been witnessed in its walls, among which was that of the Regent Earl of Arran abjuring the Catho- lic faith, and avowing the Protestant doctrine, which he subse- quently renounced. The Castle is one of the four military fortresses which, by the articles of union between England and Scotland, are to be for- tified forever. It is a celebrated place, and the scene of the mur- der of Earl Douglas by James the Second of Scotland. Queen Mary was crowned within its walls, and there her son and grand- son were baptized. It has been the place of execution of men of distinction, and near it Murdoch, Duke of Albany, Duncan, Earl of Lennox, his father-in-law, and his sons were beheaded in 1424, within sight of their extensive possessions, and their Castle of Doune. The town is irregularly built, but the situation is beautiful and commanding, and no one will be likely to visit it with regret, if he goes for pleasure. There is a noted bridge over the Forth, in the valley at the north-west part of the town, which is quit« old and celebrated in history. Wallace defeated the English near it, and Archbishop Hamilton was hung in his canonical robes, on a scaffold erected on it, in 1571 — a strange way the jwople of those days had of exhibiting their admiration for the clergy in general, and bishops in particular. 179 C 11 AFTER XVII. Scotland's capital. It is not an agreeable thing to be set down at midnight in a city where one has no acquaintance, and where everything is strange, particularly if the night be moonless and the stars dull. My entrance into the Scottish capital was at such a time and under such a sky, and it was with some difficulty that I succeeded in obtaining comfortable lodgings for the balance of the night in the modern Athens. The railway stations are in a hollow be- tween the old and new towns, and the finest street in the hilly city faces the valley on one side, while the worst-looking and tallest buildings face it on the other. I went up on to the level ground of the new street, and before me arose the superb Gothic monument erected by the inhabitants of Edinburgh to Sir Wal- ter Scott. Its elaborate ornaments and groined arches were lost in shadow, but the tall and delicate structure pointed heaven- ward, and its graceful outline and exquisite form won my admira- tion. It was too late, however, to pay much attention to it, and I was too weary to devote my time to that purpose, so I sought out a place of shelter, and after a good night's rest and pleasant dreams awoke to garish day in the seven-hilled city of the north. Princes Street was early thronged with pedestrians, and the busy tradesman and gaping tourist formed a part of its motley crowd. Here passed a soldier dressed in the scarlet uniform of the English army, there a tall Highlander in the ancient costume of his clan, while amidst the moving mass flashed, from the most tauntingly cut bonnets in the world, the bright eyes of the Scot- tish lassies. I fell into the human current, and floated uncon- sciously along in its tide until under the clifi"s of Calton Hill, on the summit of which stand monuments to Playfair, Dugald Stew- art, and other distinguished Scotsmen, and a tall, ungainly, tower- 180 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; looking abomination called Nelson's monument. I ascended to the top of the mount, and although it rises beside the most fash- ionable and thronged thoroughfare in the town, I was as secluded and solitary as if I had been in a deserted city. The mementos and cenotaphs of distinguished men were around me, and in front arose the ruins of a splendid Grecian temple, originally intended to commemorate the heroes who fell at Waterloo, but for want of means abandoned to the mercy of the winds in an unfinished state, and now its classic columns bear testimony to the failure and ambition of the projectors. The design is that of the Par- thenon at Athens, and the half finished structure stands in solemn grandeur on the eminence as an evidence at once of the taste and the meanness of the citizens of Edinburgh. The view from this elevated point takes in the whole of the city, with the towering clifi" of Arthur's Seat at one end, and the old castle of the Scot- tish capital at the other ; while seaward appears the Frith of Forth and the German Ocean, and northward the Ochils, East Lomond, and distant Grampian hills. The west is bounded by the High- lands which encircle the lakes, and the tall peaks of Ben Nevis and Benvenue are to be seen plainly in favorable weather. The high houses in the old town, which rise from the valley between the two sections, ascend to ten stories in some instances, and their unpoetic appearance detracts greatly from the beauty of the city. Princes Street runs immediately westward from the hill, and that broad and splendid avenue presents a prospect of human activity and architectural beauty not often beheld elsewhere. The Scott monument riseg in a' fine park at the side of the long thoroughfare, and beyond, some distance, the eye rests upon an elegant marble edifice called the lloyal Institution, over the en- trance to which is a colossal statue to Queen Victoria, in a reclin- ing position, holding the sceptre in her hand. As the sight runs over the city, other objects arrest the attention, among which are the lofty spire of the hall in which the General Assembly of the Kirk of Scotland holds its sessions, and the monuments to Lord Melville and Robert Burns. The town and port of Lcith are visible, and the country for miles around, so that the eye seldom tires of the prospect. I descended and walked to the Scott memo- OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 181 rial, the grounds around which were opened to the public that day for the first time, and entered the splendid edifice. The site is badly chosen, and destroys much of the imposing beauty of the structure. The main hall of the temple contains a faithfully exe- cuted full-length likeness of the great writer in marble, with his favorite dog at his side, and several of the niches in more elevated parts of the structure are filled with statues of different characters in Sir Walter's works. The design is exquisite, being in the florid Gothic style of architecture, and was furnished by a young man entirely unknown to fame until declared, by a committee appointed to select a plan for the monument, the successful com- petitor. He was a self-taught architect, and studied the splendid Gothic edifices of Great Britain when a journeyman mason. He walked from town to town, and made drawings of the beautiful masterpieces of his chosen profession wherever he found them, and, untrammelled by schools or the advice of too ardent friends, perfected himself in his favorite pursuit. Death unfortunately deprived the world of his talents before the splendid edifice was completed which his original mind gave birth to, and another finished and successfully carried out what he so admirably de- signed. I ascended and met a Norwegian sea captain at the top who had been at Philadelphia, and as we were both strangers we joined company for the balance of the day. He had sailed from that port for the West Indies some time during 1850, and mistaking a light on a headland of one of the Antilles, had run his vessel on a reef, and lost her entirely, and was then in Edinburgh endeavor- ing to purchase a steamer for the Baltic trade. The highest niches of the monument are occupied by figures in red sandstone of various prominent personages in the works of Scott, and that of Dominie Sampson is so admirably executed that the beholder cannot resist laughing at the representation of the horrified sectarian, who, with upraised hands and face expres- sive of unmistakable fright and astonishment, is exclaiming, with fervor, " Prodigious !" I laughed aloud at the horror-stricken visage and figure of the Dominie, and felt fully reimbursed for my trouble in climbing 287 steps to get a look from the topmost gallery of the monument, without taking into consideration the 16 182 Tiew. The best of the remaining figures is that of the " Last Minstrel" playing on his harp j but none of the balance, not even the hag Meg Merrilies, is so clearly individualized as the affrighted Dominie. The city of Edinburgh, like that of Rome, is located on seven hills, and the pedestrian finds a great variety of mount and valley wherever he goes. We strolled around and through the interesting portions of the picturesque capital, after leaving the monument, and ascended to the old castle, and with commend- able curiosity examined its battlements and famous halls. The room in which James the Sixth was born was honored with our presence, and an official personage exhibited to us the window from which the royal prince was lowered in a basket when but eight days old, by some of the Protestant party, and carried to Stirling. The walls of the apartment are decorated with devices and inscrip- tions, bearing upon the events connected with the place, and the date of renovation. The repairs were made at the instigation of James after he was crowned King of England, and at his first visit to his native city after he ascended the English throne. The room is miserably small, and approached through a large hall. A loquacious fellow employed by the government relates the events connected with the place to as many as can get into it at once, and as he is compelled to repeat the story fifty times a day, he goes through it as if he were reading prayers to a sleepy congrega- tion, who take no interest in the service. In an apartment adja- cent are two portraits of James and Mary; that of the mother being a beautiful picture of a splendid woman, and that of the son an unmistakable likeness of his pedantic majesty. The crown jewels are also shown ; but they are not wonderful, nor is a man repaid for standing in a crowded and darkened room to view them by gas-light. The walls of the castlo are protected by heavy guns, one of which is very large, and known by the name of Mons Meg. The story goes that it was cast at Mons, in Flanders, but it wants confirmation, and people don't much care to pry into either its history or its chamber, for they learn nothing satisfac- tory of the first, and by looking into the second they are sure to have a sentry bellowing in their cars, " Go away from that gun," OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 183 as if there were danger of it being carried off in some curiosity hunter's pocket, a thing not very easily accomplished when we take into consideration that its length is about fifteen feet, and its weight in proportion to its size. While in the castle, I endea- vored to find the point at which Randolph and his daring followers entered the fortress in 1313, and recaptured it from the astonished English ; but all my attempts were vain. The sentries were on the spot, and ^'no admittance there'^ was sure to greet me whenever I advanced toward the place. The old and formidable-looking fortification stands on a hill which rises perpendicularly on three sides from a plain, and can be approached only from the east through a street in the old town. The houses are built up to the walls which inclose the parade-ground, and one of them is pointed out as having been in former times the residence of Allan Ramsay, the author of the "Gentle Shepherd." It bears no evidence of gentility at present externally, and no one would suppose that it had ever been a favorite haunt of the muses. High Street runs eastward from the castle, and terminates in the Canongate, near John Knox's house. We walked down its steep surface some distance, and, turning to the right near the old cathedral, crossed the bridge called after George the Fourth, and thence passed on to the Grassmarket and West Bow, once the main avenue by which the elevated parts of the old town were reached, and through which malefactors in olden times were led to execution. My companion was by no means well posted in Scottish history, and I volunteered to hunt out celebrated localities for our mutual gratification. The Grassmarket was formerly the place of public execution, and I knew that the Porteous mob hung their victim on that spot. We found a stone cross placed in the pavement, in the centre of the street, and learned that it was there to mark the precise locality of the gallows in other times, and that thousands of persons suffered death where it was. On that very spot the enraged and deter- mined populace made the villain Porteous pay the penalty of his rascality, and near there Wilson, the malefactor, effected the wonderful escape of his companion in crime. The West Bow has witnessed, however, other scenes besides executions, and other 184 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; processions besides those of criminals going to the scaffold, for it was through that avenue that Oliver Cromwell entered the city of Edinburgh, the victorious and triumphant conqueror of Scot- land — and kings and princes innumerable have graced it with their presence. When a man is near a place made celebrated by remarkable occurrences, there is some excuse for his prying curiosity, if he looks out the locality ; and if he do not, he is but a poor tourist, and had better have remained at home. I was aware that the (xrassmarket was not far from the scene of Burke's infernal mur- ders, and, pursuing our course westwardly, we entered a narrow street called the West Port, and threaded its crooked and steep way. The angles of the curves contract the view so much as to make a person feel as if completely hemmed in, without any chance of egress, when he enters the street a short distance; and as the people who reside in it are a wretched set, the place ap- peared to me to be the very spot for such inhuman amusement as that practised by the noted monster. We found the house in which the wretch lived, and that was satisfactory. We had no curiosity to enter it, and soon made the best of our way to a more civilized and inviting part of the world, perfectly content with what we had seen, and pleased to find that we escaped without "Burking" some walking ambassadors from the clothing of the inhabitants of that classic quarter of modern Athens. The capital of Scotland is extremely picturesque, and presents a series of the most romantic views from whatever point a person chooses to survey it. At one place a bridgfe spans a valley, and crosses the houses of a subterranean town, while at another near by the street leads to the summit of a hill where the houses are so elevated, both in situation and in stories, as to appear as if they formed a part of a city in the clouds. In fact, the modern Athens, as the inhabitants delight to stylo Edinburgh, is hills and hollows, and if a man don't like its lower regions, ho can go up to its hea- ven whenever he wants to. Its natural situation is commanding and exceedingly beautiful, and many of the public buildings are remarkably fine; but, un- fortunately, the ungainly houses in the old town come too near OR; WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 186 the splendid edifices of the new, and the walls of the ten story dwellings, which present such a gloomy aspect when viewed from Princes Street, lead the observer to the conclusion that Napoleon was right when he said that there was but one step from the sub- lime to the ridiculous, as it is but little more than that from the splendid monument to Scott, which is the perfection of Gothic architecture, to the scarred and towering houses on the other side of the hollow, which are the veriest abortions of the distempered imagination of an insane architect. In the Canongate are some singular old dwellings with the second story projecting over the pavement, and the fronts strangely ornamented. John Knox's house is on that street, and at present the old structure presents a tolerably clean appearance, although it is located in a part of the city by no means remarkable for the cleanliness of the in- habitants or of the avenue. The people hold the ancient building in reverence ; but for all that allow a publican to occupy a portion of it, and sell gin and whiskey in pennyworths within its walls. Holyrood Palace is a large quadrangular structure, situate in a valley between the eastern extremity of Calton Hill and Arthur's Seat, and principally interesting on account of its having been the scene of the murder of Rizzio by Darnley and his fellow-con- spirators. The old woman who bows strangers through the apart- ments of Mary is a fair specimen of the ancient cicerone^ and be- comes the place wonderfully. She dresses in black, and when in the room once occupied by the unfortunate princess, speaks in a whisper to her auditors, and commands the utmost attention as she describes in solemn tones the events connected with the mur- der, and the articles in the apartment. The bed in which Mary slept the last time she was in Holyrood House is exhibited, with her work-basket and dressing-case, and in the room adjoining the sleeping apartment of the princes is a portrait of Rizzio, at an early age. If the Italian was as handsome as the picture, then there was no doubt some cause for Darnley^s jealousy, and it is not injustice to Mary to suppose that her susceptible heart had its secret yearnings for the handsome musician. The old lady is one of the fixtures of the place, and shows, with a pious anxiety for their preservation, the spots of Rizzio's gore which stain the 16^= 186 floor. Myself and companion were disposed to doubt the genuine- ness of the blood, and received a sound lecture from the ancient dame for our incredulity. She was shocked at our infidelity, and almost screamed aloud when she heard us express our disbelief. We appeased her anger by apologizing for our hastily uttered doubts, and were conducted through the room occupied by Charles the Second when he visited the house, and then into the great hall where of yore the Scottish lords were wont to assemble, and which Oliver Cromwell turned into a barracks for his soldiers during his stay in Edinburgh. The walls of this apartment are ornainented with what are said to be the portraits of the Scottish kings, but they are nearly all alike, .and evidently painted by the same hand. Each face has a nose on it that rises like the peak of Ben Lomond, and looks more like a carbuncle than the nasal ap- pendage of a monarch. The old lady expects a fee from each visit- or, and no one escapes her without paying for her services. There were several persons with us, and, as we were leaving, myself and companion presented her with a small coin for her labor, and were going, when she laid her hand upon my shoulder, and demanded pay for a "cannie Scot" whom she thought to be of our party, and who was quietly getting to the door without paying for his share of her eloquence. I denied the fellow, and she bellowed at the top of her hysterical voice — '' Stop that man; he hasn't paid me ;" and, turning to me, she continued, " I'll hold you till he comes I" I laughed heartily at her, and as Sawney returned and settled the score, I took my departure, completely satisfied with my visit to one part of Ilolyrood, and wended my way to the ruins of the old abbey. A man conducted us through the fallen chapel and over the tombs of defunct kings and nobles. The rich carv- ings, the crumbling columns, and deserted cloisters had a charm for me far beyond the dusty rooms we had just left, and I derived a melancholy pleasure in contemplating the decaying splendors of the sacred fane. The great east window still remains, and the confessional of Mary is shown with considerable solemnity to the visitor. The church has been used at different periods by three distinct sects of Christians, Catholics, Episcopalians, and Presby- terians; but each denomination has had its day within the walls, OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 187 and now the officious menials of the Duke of Hamilton exhibit its tombs and architectural beauties to the lovers of the old and remarkable, and obsequiously bow the stranger through its clois- ters, its galleries, and its holy aisles. I am no sectarian ; but "The faintest relics of a shrine, Of any worship, summon thoughts divine" within my breast, and I love to ramble in reflective mood among the hallowed and splendid ruins of the monastic houses of the monks of old. The other places of interest in Edinburgh are Arthur's Seat, the University, and museums. The dark hill rises toweringly above the city, and commands a splendid and glorious prospect. I visited it several times during my week's residence in the ca- pital, and never regretted having climbed to its summit. It is always ascended by tourists, and a stranger not unfrequently meets on its top representatives from all the nations of Northern Europe, and delegates from the Republic of the Western World. Its ut- most height is eight hundred feet above the level of the sea, and from that point, looking south, one sees Craig Millar Castle and the town of Dalkeith, with the Lammermuir and Pentland Hills in the distance ; while to the east the German Ocean and Frith of Forth lie as if at the spectator's feet, and the distant point of Preston Pans, celebrated for the engagement fought there between the troops of Prince Charles and those of the government in the rebellion of 1715, is in full view. The ruins of St. Anthony's Chapel, so graphically described by Scott, stand on a cliff, or spur of the Salisbury Crags, and the cottage of Davie Deans is pointed out between the highest peak of the mountain and the castellated and picturesque city. The colleges and museums of Edinburgh do not differ materially from those of other countries, and a description of this class of institutions in one section of the world can be appropriately ap- plied to all. The hospitals and charitable establishments of the city are numerous and well conducted, and the philanthropist will derive both pleasure and knowledge from a visit to these institu- tions of the Scottish capital. 188 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J During my sojourn there, I became acquainted with a Scotch phrenologist, whose talent and acquirements I have no cause to underrate. He lodged at the same house with myself, and, on a dull, rainy day, amused and delighted a company of four of us with reminiscences and observations made during his erratic wan- derings. He was a well read, intelligent man, and possessed a wonderful knowledge of human character. His reading was by no means confined to his favorite science, nor did he follow implicitly the laws laid down by other professors of phrenology in his practice. He was an excellent physiognomist as well as phre- nologist, and judiciously combined the two when judging of the dispositions and characters of men. He had the honesty to acknowledge his many shortcomings, and, in relating his adventures, never purposely made himself the hero of his story. The day wore away imperceptibly as we listened to his fascinating conversation, and not one of us regretted having met with a companion so instructive and agreeable. He was what is called a clever man in England, aiid his conversational powers were wonderful. Before leaving the city, I visited several interesting places in the vicinity, including Roslyn Chapel and Craig Millar Castle. At the entrance to the latter, there was a huge watch-dog, whose countenance did not lead me to cultivate his intimate acquaint- ance, nor was it desirable to be familiar with him. I asked the boy, who conducted me around the ruin, whether the animal would bite. " I dinna ken, sir, but he tore all the clathos aff a lady yistcr- day, when she gaed near him." That was satisfactory to me, and corroborated my ideas of the true character of the canine guard of the famous prison-house of persecut-cd Queen Mary. He was a perfect Cerberus. As it was the harvest-season, I met numbers of Irishmen on the road who had crossed from their native land in search of em- ployment as reapers. They were tolerably well clothed, and each had with him a sickle for cutting grain. The cottages on my walk were much better lighted and ventilated than the huts in the Highlands, but still unfit for human habitations. The floors OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 189 were of stone, and the interiors of each abominably filthy. The peasantry were surly and unsociable, and by no means so friendly as the mechanics of the cities. From my own observation, I am inclined to consider their reserved manners a necessary result of their condition and the circumstances by which they are sur- rounded. In other short journeys, I noticed the same. The women were always more communicative than the men, and there was a spirit of inquiry among them more worthy of commenda- tion. Although the men are unsociable, I believe that the rural population of Scotland is a better educated class and more intel- ligent than the English, and consequently superior. CHAPTER XYIII. A VISIT TO THE TOMB OF MICHAEL BRUCE, A YOUNG SCOTTISH POET. Having entertained for years a strong admiration for the cha- racter of Michael Bruce, a young Scottish poet of some distinction, I made a pilgrimage to his tomb, in fulfilment of a long-formed determination. The cold-hearted and cynical may sneer at my simplicity, and ask, with a laugh of derision, ^' Who was Michael Bruce?'' But the jeers of the world never yet deterred me from carrying out my designs, nor prevented me from paying respect to merit, no matter whether it existed in a peasant or a peer; and I feel conscious that they cannot change my disposition now. Michael Bruce was a young man of poor and obscure parents, and, though born in a Highland cottage, his acknowledged talents and amability of character gained for him a name that maay a one born in a higher sphere of life may well envy. He died at the early age of twenty-one years, and left behind him a number of poetical compositions which have placed him in the list of British bards, and given his name and character to the republic of letters. He was a contemporary and personal friend of Logan, the reputed 190 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; author of " An Odo to the Cuckoo," a poem which has deh'ghted thousands of readers wherever the language of England is spoken; and as that person published as his own many of the known pro- ductions of Bruce, there arc good grounds for asserting that " The Cuckoo" was written by the youthful poet, and stolen bodily from him by Logan. The works of Bruce have attracted considerable attention among literary circles in Scotland of late years, and a copy of them now before me, edited by a distinguished literary gentleman, contains the poem on the merit of which rests the poetical reputation of Logan. Many of the acknowledged odes of Bruce are equal to the " Cuckoo," and that much cannot be said of the writings of the assumed author of the poem. It is a little remarkable that Logan should have written but one ode in the measure adopted in the beautiful composition attributed to him, while Michael Bruce left behind him several of the same .prosodical construction. Logan published a collection of his works shortly after the death of his friend, and incorporated in the volume, as his own, a number of odes written by Bruce, among which, there is no doubt in the minds of competent judges at this day, was the " Ode to the Cuckoo." But whether Bruce was the author of that production or not, his fame does not rest upon the doubt connected with it, nor upon the poem if it be his. He was naturally of a weak constitution, and by close application to study and his duties as an instructor of youth, he fell into a rapid decline, and while in the last lingering stages of consumption, possessed the calmness of spirit and fortitude of soul to contemplate his ap-. preaching dissolution in a poem, which, for gentleness of thought, beauty of language, and line imagery, equals, in some respects, the sublime elegy of Gray. Witness the following lines, and imagine the youthful bard quietly contemplating the certain ap- proach of the angel of death, and then say whether my estimation of his character is too high, or my visit to his tomb a foolish journey: — •* Now spring returns, but not to me returns Tlio vernal joys my bettor years have known ; Dim in my breast life's dying taper bums, And all the joys of life with health arc flown. 191 "Starting and shivering in the inconstant wind, Meagre and pale, the ghost of what I was. Beneath some blasted tree I lie reclined, And count the silent moments as they pass." How beautiful the picture, and how appropriate the thought ! A vigorous tree shivered by the blasts of spring, and beneath its shattered arms a dying youth silently noting the passing moments, with a full consciousness that his race is near at end, and his soul will soon wing its flight to realms beyond the grave. Death, at all times, is a solemn thing, and but few have the fortitude to witness its sure approach without a shudder, and none to welcome it with more calmness than did the gentle and talented poet of Loch Leven. I left Edinburgh in the morning and proceeded to Granton Pier, from which place I crossed the Frith of Forth, and took rail to Markinch, the nearest station to Portmoak, the burial-place of Bruce. The morning was cloudy and rain impended; but as the wind was high, I was not deterred from my journey, and set out on a walk to the place of my destination. My road lay toward Loch Leven, through a hilly country, and as I was alone I enjoyed without interruption the beauties of the landscape and my own reflections. I passed through the extended village of Leslie, and aff"orded the denizens of that place something to talk about, for they evidently considered me a wonder, and flocked to the doors with as much eager curiosity as if I had been Prince Albert. The way became more rugged and mountainous as I approached the highlands, and the heavy Scotch mists occasionally settled around me, but no rain fell, and after a walk of but little less than ten miles, I entered the secluded village of Portmoak and inquired for the sexton of the kirk. The inhabitants and myself were on a par so far as a knowledge of each other^s language ex- tended, as they understood about one-half of what I said, and I about a corresponding amount of what they uttered. I succeeded, however, without much difficulty, in finding the house of him I sought, and his wife, a plain and intelligent Scotch woman, ac- companied me to the church. The building is a square, prosy- looking edifice, as solemn and sour in appearance as were the 192 vinegar-visagcd Puritan parsons of old; no ornaments, no spire, no beauty — it is the " most straitest of its sect/' and as dreary as a tomb. The Scotch are wofully deficient in their modem churches, and fall immeasurably behind the English in ecclesias- tical structures. They want a love for the splendid in church architecture — its religion, if you please; and less of that solemn, square, four-walled style of building which prevails to so great an extent among them. Their villages are not handsome ; there is no beautifully designed place of worship, with its tall and grace- ful spire pointing to heaven, to attract the stranger's gaze, and add a charm to the hamlet. All is plain, level, and devoid of ornament. The monks of old knew the glories of a splendid Gothic edifice and its religious influences; but the Scotch, in their great reformation, swept both the beautiful in church architecture and the monks away together, and now bend the knee in temples as devoid of the beautiful, in most cases, as the structures they razed were remarkable for it. I followed my guide into the burial-ground, and as the old lady was well informed respecting the history of the poet, I spent a pleasant half hour in her company, near the urn placed over his remains. The memento was erected by some literary gentlemen as an evidence of their appreciation of the worth of the bard, and numbers of the countrymen of Bruce usually visit the place dur- ing the summer months, when making the circuit of Loch Leven. The churchyard is immediately below the craggy summit of the Lomond Hills, and in full view of the island castle in the lake, so long the prison of Mary Queen of Scots, and which furnished the subject of the longest poem of the lamented and pious bard. The scenery around is picturesque and rugged, though not so much resorted to as the more famed locality of Loch Lomond. On the urn is the subjoined inscription, which is by no means an exaggeration of cither the character or talents of him who rests below : — OR, 193 THE BODY OF MICHAEL BRUCE, Who was born at Kinneswood in 1746; and died While a student in connection with the Secession Church in the 21st Year of his Age. Meek and gentle in spirit, sincere and unpretending in his Christian de- portment ; refined in intellect, and elevated in character, he was greatly beloved by his friends, and won the esteem of all ; while his genius, whose fire neither poverty nor sickness could quench, produced those odes, unrivalled for simplicity and pathos, which have shed an undying lustre on his name. Early, bright, transient, chaste as morning dew, he sparkled and exhaled, and went to heaven, / The name of Michael Bruce is unknown except to literary men, and but few strangers, if any, visit his grave. No foreigners go to Portmoak, and I was probably the first that ever visited the place with the main purpose of seeing the poet's tomb. The old lady looked at me with a puzzled gaze, and appeared at a loss to know who and what I was. She was aware that I was a stranger, and said to me, half doubtingly, half inquiringly, " Ye'r no' En- glish, and I dinna ken what ye be.'' I purposely kept her in ignorance of the land of my birth until on the eve of my de- parture, when I told her I was an American. Her face brightened up, and she exclaimed, "Ay! I thought they were a' black; but how a body may be mista'en. But were you born there ?" she asked rather eagerly, supposing she had made an error by a too ready expression of opinion. I told her I was, and my ancestors before me. '^ Weel, weel," she continued, " I'm glad ye cam', for I'd ne'er believed but that they were a' black, had I na' seen ye ;" and with a smile at her simple innocence I bade her good- by, and returned to Markinch, past the ruins of Arnot Castle, and through the beautiful valley of the River Leven, and arrived at the Scottish capital, after a pleasant day's excursion to the birth and burial-place of Michael Bruce. 17 194 THE FOOTrATH AND IIIGnWAY J CHAPTER XIX. MELROSE — ABBOTSrORD — DRYBURGII, THE BURIAL-PLACE OF SIR WALTER SCOTT. Abbotsford, Melrose, and Dryburgh are sacred names to the admirers of the genius of Sir Walter Scott, and the places to which they belong arc now Meccas of the mind. Thousands an- nually resort to their walls, drawn there by the wizard-like in- fluence of the great novelist and poet; and but few make the tour of Scotland without including in their journey a visit to one or the other of these celebrated places. I left Edinburgh in com- pany with a young Englishman, who was, like myself, a pilgrim to the shrine of genius, and after an agreeable travel of thirty miles or more, during which we passed the ruined castles of Both- well and Crichton, arrived at the quiet village of Melrose. A pleasant walk of three miles brought us to the turreted and pic- turesque mansion of Abbotsford, and on presenting ourselves at the lodge, we were admitted to the grounds and most attractive portions of the house. The building is very irregular, but singu- larly imposing, and well calculated to force remembrance upon the mind. In the court-yard, immediately in front of the entraneo- door, in the centre of a circular grass-plot, stands the urn which flowed with wine at Holy rood at the time James the Sixth visited that royal abode after he had been crowned King of England ; and in the wall of the building are shown the door of the Old Tolbooth of Edinburgh, and the pulpit of Kalph Eri^kiuc. Se- veral petrified antlers, of enormous size, adorn the porchway lead- ing into the entrancc-hall, and at the side of the approach is a marble figure of the celebrated dog Maida, while the garden in- closure abounds in the fragments of broken columns and nameless sculpture. We were politely ushered into the vestibule of the mansion by an agreeable lady of some forty years, and conducted OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 195 through the various departments open to visitors. One of thera is adorned with relics of antiquity and articles of historical note, forming in themselves a perfect museum. Its ceiling is of carved oak; its walls ornamented with curiosities, from the key of the Tolbooth to the richly blazoned coats-armorial of the most cele- brated of the border families, while the floor is inlaid with black and white marble from the Hebrides. Here are articles described by Sir Walter in his matchless novels, and they well become the place. From this we entered the private study of the great man, and were allowed to touch his arm-chair, and look at the body- clothes last worn by him. They are kept in a case, and viewed through glass at the top, and are extremely plain and unpretend- ing. No effort at display is exhibited in those garments, and they are just such as any one acquainted with the character of the man would expect Sir Walter Scott to wear. The only furniture in the study is a plain desk and the chair alluded to. It was in that room he wrote the most wonderful of his works, and the visitor treads its sacred floor with a noiseless step, fearful that he is an intruder, and half expecting to see Sir Walter enter from the ad- joining library. I am sure I unconsciously awaited his return; everything looked so natural, just as if he had left the room for a moment and gone to the adjacent apartment after a book for reference. There is a small gallery around three sides of the room, which leads to the sleeping-chamber once occupied by the novelist, so constructed that he could retire to rest from his mid- night labors without disturbing the sleep of others. We passed on to the library, a large and magnificent room, the roof of which is carved oak, after that in Roslyn Chapel. It contains nearly twenty thousand volumes, some of which are extremely rare and valuable. On a stand in one section is an urn of silver, contain- ing human ashes and bones, from the long wall at Athens, which, according to the inscription, was presented by Lord Byron to Sir Walter Scott in 1815. The breakfast parlor is a most winning little room ; but the dining-hall is the richest in art. There is a painting of the head of Mary, Queen of Scots, on a silver charger ; a portrait of Charles the Twelfth of Sweden; one of that stern hero Cromwell ; and one of the eldest son of the 196 THE FOOTPATH AND IIIOIIWAY; novelist, in the uniform of a Colonel of Hussars, and a fine- looking man he was. Other works of great merit adorn the walls of the apartment, and the armory is rich in articles of the notori- ous and the great. Here are Napoleon's pistols — there Rob Hoy's death-dealing gun — on this rack Toledo blades, as full of temper as the men who wore them ; while around are swords of kings — spears and battle-axes — arms of crusaders — and rapiers of truest steel. Here a pair of thumb-screws, those mad torturers of Spain, and there a chain that bound a prisoner, now rusty with the tears of him who felt its iron grasp. The curious may pass hours in examining these relics of the past, and find much to amuse and instruct. The windows facing the Tweed command a view of great splendor up and down that rapid, flashing crystal stream ; and the location, the comforts, and the internal arrangements of the mansion are unsurpassed, look at them as we may. It is the very earthly paradise of a poet and a great mind, that Abbotsford — and how pitiful that the originator and wonderful man, whoso history is its history, should have lost it in his latter days, and died within its walls, on the sufferance of a creditor! The grounds around are laid out with exquisite taste, and adorned with rich exotic flowers and valuable plants. The walks are mostly secluded and romantic, and the surrounding scenery is beautifully picturesque. We passed several hours most agreeably within the limits of the princely estate, and returned to look upon the walls of Melrose Abbey. The ruin is much smaller than we expected ; but its beauty, even under a dull sky, is wonderful. The carvings are most ex- quisite ; and the long aisles and solitary cloisters, the rich groin- ing and crumbling walls, the secret avenues and solemn cells, all stand in quiet ruin like monuments of the mighty past, and chain-links between these and other years. I never yet entered one of those glorious edifices but my mind at once became im- pressed with a sense of the mutability of earthly things, and the decline and change of earthly power. Here, thought I, of old, the solemn monks trod the cloisters, and engaged in the impres- sive services of their sect — and here dwelt bishops and abbots OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 197 whose influence was all powerful, and whose persons were sacred in the eyes of an ignorant world ; but now what a change ! The roofless abbey is the dwelling of the birds of the air, and its high altar-place is overgrown with grass, while the tourist treads with levity on the graves of the once potent and holy fathers of the church ; and people of another creed exhibit the beauties of the edifice to the curious and admiring. The splendid ruin attests the poetical talents of its constructors, and may well be called the fragments of a glorious Gothic poem. Go look at that long range of richly carved windows, which once let sunlight into the lengthened nave, through glass of a thousand colorings — examine the variety of design, and the graceful curves of the fo- liage-formed capitals — the splendid and exquisitely chiselled carv- ings of the columns and mullions— the ornaments of the arches — the rich and graceful curves in the great east window — the sculptured flowers, grasped firm by human hands — the clustered pillars — the deserted choir — the whole of the triumphant pile — • and then think of the genius of the past! Now rich velvety grass grows luxuriantly in the chancel, the nave, and the high altar-place, once sacred to rites religious; and the sunlight streams through broken oriel and ornate aisle, in full blaze upon the earth- floored monastic fane. The heart of a once heroic king, and the dust of bishops, warriors, and nobles, mingle with the decayed fragments of the falling temple, and nurture the green vegetation within its walls ; but what there is left of the gorgeous monu- ment of the past claims the admiration of the lover of the beau- tiful, and the liberal mind is consoled with the fact that the emergency which swept away the evil from the shrine permitted suflBcient of the beautiful and glorious to remain to claim the ad- miration of men, regardless of creed or clime. I could live for- ever within the shadows of ruined abbeys, and drink in inspira- tion, while viewing their elegance and almost fadeless splendor. My companion was satisfied with Melrose, and did not feel in- clined to keep me company to Dryburgh Abbey, so I set out alone on a walk of nine miles, near the close of a cloudy day, to the grave of Sir Walter Scott. The road lay through a hilly country, and skirted the base of the Eildon Hills, celebrated in 17* 198 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J the songs of Thomas the Rhymer, and the works of the novelist. They are three in number, and rise like so many pyramids almost abruptly from the lands on the south of the Tweed, near Mel- rose, and present a remarkable appearance. I leisurely pursued my course, and after following a direct road for more than three miles, turned into a narrow overshaded lane, which led me to the banks of the swift gurgling Tweed. A boatman ferried me across the stream, and I soon entered the extensive park attached to the fine old ruin. The sward was of the richest green, and the broad arms of several cedars of Lebanon, of great magnitude, overshadowed the ground, and lent a peculiar charm to the rich landscape. A yew-tree, supposed to be as old as the Abbey — 700 years — stands like a jealous sentinel among his towering neighbors, and hides from sight the ruins of the ancient monas- tery as you enter the inclosure. I approached, and soon stood within the shattered walls of the building. The chapter-house and cloisters are the most entire, but they are now only a frag- ment of their former dimensions. In the centre of a secluded section, once a favorite resort of the religious brotherhood, stands a statue of Inigo Jones, the famous architect ; and another of Sir Isaac Newton adorns the deserted chapter-house. The walls are overgrown with ivy, and the south window, a fine oriel, is almost curtained with the emerald leaves of the ruin-haunting vine. That portion of the abbey is the most imposing part of what remains, and the richly mullioned circular window which adorns the centre of the massive wall is beauty's self. The building was in the usual form of a Latin cross, but what remains at this day is irregular and imperfect, conveying no exact idea of the extent or magnificence of the edifice when entire. St. Mary's Aisle, a detached portion of the ruin, is the tomb of the " great Wizard of the North," and at his side are those of his wife and eldest son. The graves are plain ; three heavy slabs of Peter- head granite cover the three narrow mansions of the dead, and over all rise the ivy-clothed and picturesque ruins. Near by are the roniains of the high altar of the abbey, and the defaced and mouldering tombs of several long-forgotten worthies. The in- 199 scription to the memory of the novelist is brief in the ex- treme : — Sir Walter Scott, Baronet, Died Sept. 21, A. D. 1832. It is as plain as the stone on which it is engraved, but still suflScient for the place. His works are his epitaph, and there is not a line in them that his friends would wish erased. Over the remains of his wife is a longer record, and one in all things ap- propriate : — - Dame Charlotte Margaret Carpenter, "Wife of Sir Walter Scott, of Abbotsford, Baronet. Died at Abbotsford, May 15, A. D. 1826. The soldier is buried in front, and the three solitary graves have a solemn appearance, situated as they are within the crum- bling walls of that old fane. I was alone, and as the day was cloudy, a pleasant gloom settled over the landscape, and the sky appeared as if the sun would go down veiled. While I stood within the ruins and near the tombs, the struggling rays of the splendid orb broke in glory through the misty veil, and flung a shower of golden light upon the massive walls and through the deserted aisles, I never witnessed a more gorgeous scene. The ivy leaves, and mullioned windows, and rich old trees were bathed and tipped and tinged with golden flame ; and the grass in the high altar-place and fallen transept sparkled with liquid light. The arrowy Tweed's soft murmurs came up upon the evening breeze, and as the winds crept through the thick foliage of the trees and ivy veil that curtained the windows, the scene was all enchantment, and I stood enraptured with the view. It wa^a thing of beauty, and poor Keats tells us that " is a joy forever.'' I will remember the scene till the latest hour of my existence, for it was one never to be forgotten. There were the streaming rays of the sun darting through the foliaged oriel in the nave, and falling in a flood of light upon the velvet floor, while the dark shadows of the massive walls rested in solemn beauty on the tomb of Scott. It was a scene for a pilgrim, and a double glory 200 THE FOOTPATH AND HTOHWAY; for one wbo had come so far. I waited an hour contemplating the ruin and the splendor of the setting sun, and wished for Ra- phael's matchless art, to grasp in tints and massive lights and shades the wondrous view. The bright rays slowly faded out, and one by one they gradually expired, and then over ruined aisle, and broken wall, and solemn tower, fell night's shadows gray and silence still as death ! I turned from the spot, and re- traced my steps to Melrose, meditating upon the glorious scene. But the day, so rich in the wonderful to me, was not destined to close with the splendid sight I had witnessed at Drybiirgh. When I returned to the village, the night was well advanced, and the moon was gradually rising, though veiled in mist. When all was still, I went to the old abbey. As I passed through the vil- lage, my tread echoed along its deserted street, and through the tall and solitary market cross, and reminded me that I was alone. The ruin is surrounded by a wall, but I scaled it and stood with- in the inclosure among the graves of dead men, and along-side the monastic fane. The moon's rays were no longer obscured, but fell in a flood of silver light upon chancel, tower, and richly carved muUion, and streamed broad through the great east win- dow over the altar-place. While I stood in the Golgotha, the clock-bell, which swings in a tower over the south end of the transept, struck the passing hour. Its sudden and unexpected chime startled me on the instant; but it is proper that an iron sentinel should, from the solemn belfry of that old pile, proclaim the flight of time ! After the sounds had died away, and Hhc echoes had sung a requiem through the aisles, my mind invested the place with life ; and imagination, aided by the hour and scene, summoned up a train of cowled monks and white-robed nuns, who seemed to pass in long array before me. Slowly their midnight hymn went up, and the lengthened throng, with smoking censors, swinging slow, filed along the velvet sward, and marched within the splendid fane. I watched the last one disappear, and a cloud, hiding the face of the moon for a time, dispelled the idle vision, and I stood in darkness within the shade of Mclroso Abbey. OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 201 CHAPTER XX. ALNWICK CASTLE AND YORK MINSTER. Almost the entire country from Edinburgh to Newcastle- upon-Tjne abounds in ruined abbeys, castles, and monasteries. At Kelso is a fallen fane of the olden monks ; at Norham, a fine ruin of an ancient castle ; and at Berwick-on-Tweed, the remains of the walls which once inclosed the town. This last-mentioned place is situate on the north bank of the boundary river, within sight of the German Ocean, and is remarkable at present for nothing beyond its crooked, narrow, and filthy streets, and a splendid railway bridge which spans the Tweed. The country immediately adjacent to it is rather poor, but a few miles inland the soil is very fair and productive. When I passed through, the grain was ripe, and men and women were busily engaged in reap- ing. As many as one hundred persons were working together in a field, and they looked like a small army gathering the harvest of plenty. The greater part of them were Irish, who had crossed from their own island for the purpose of aiding the farmers in securing their crops, and earning something towards the support of their families. A railway connects Berwick with Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and lies within sight of the ocean nearly the entire distance, but affords no very fine views either by land or sea. I rested awhile at Alnwick, in Northumberland, celebrated for its fine castle, renowned as the " home of the Percy's high-born race." The town is neither large nor handsome, but it is interesting, and abounds in monuments of the ancient day. The entrance to the principal street is through a solid and massive gateway, erected by Hotspur, the best and bravest of the Percys; and in the lands connected with the estates of the Duke of Northumberland are the ruins of two abbeys, and one or two crosses to mark places 202 THE FOOXrATH AND UIQIIWAY ; on which noble warriors died when engaged in attacks upon the fortitied castle, the main attraction of the town. I presented ^yself at the gate, and was admitted within the walls of the enormous structure. It is built entirely of freestone, in the Gothic style of architecture, and consists of three quadrangles inclosing a space of five acres. The walls are ornamented with battlements and turrets, and sixteen towers adorn the edifice, on each of which stands a figure in armor in an attitude of defence. Next to Windsor it is the most extensive edifice in England, and the internal embellishments and furniture are in character with its size and magnificence. The country around is extremely picturesque, and the greenest of swards gradually slopes from the outer walls of the structure on the north to the quiet and pellucid Alne. I was blest with a pretty girl for a guide, and she led me through the large halls and splendid rooms of the aristocratic mansion, and around the strong battlements and frowning towers of the building, and showed me the wonders of the place, from the armory which glitters with implements of strife hoarded up from the time of Hotspur, when the court-yard below ** Echoed to the light step of the soldier's march, The music of the trump and drum," to the gloomy cells of the donjon-keep in which prisoners were in- carcerated of yoro. My bright-eyed companion almost taught mo love, and when she conducted me to Hotspur's favorite bower, and told me it was there that the fiery warrior wooed and won " his gentle Kate, a thousand years ago," I was more than half inclined to turn Hotspur myself, and woo the pretty maiden of the ducal palace. She was so fascinating, so modest, and so lady- like withal. The old church of St. Mary's, in the town, contains the tombs of the Percy family for generations past, and the walls arc hung with the tattered banners of that house. The musty emblems of war are rapidly falling to pieces, and the gilding which embellishes them is fading away. Dust covers the banners of Hotspur, and the unliftcd spears and armorial bearings which surround them are all that remain at present of their valiant defenders. What OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 203 a singular notion that is of displaying warlike standards in temples dedicated to the religion of the "Prince of Peace!'' It looks much like an attempt to ridicule Christianity in its very altar- places. I did not remain long in Alnwick after viewing the castle, but continued on to Newcastle-upon-Tyne, and passed a night in that place. There are some streets in the Coal Metropolis which are wide and elegant, and some buildings that are handsome, but the greater part of the city is filthy and forbidding. The streets in the unfashionable sections are dirty, crooked, steep, and black as night. The people are either covered with coal dust or pale and sickly in appearance, and their condition generally does not im- press a person favorably. I visited one of the pits about eight miles from town, but cannot say that I derived either pleasure or profit from my trip. Children are employed in the sunless caves as well as men and women, and all are vulgar and ill-mannered, and appear to consider a visitor fair game to practice extortion upon. Little boys pulled at one side and asked for pence, while men bowed obsequiously for a shilling to purchase beer. Our company of three paid handsomely for the privilege of being covered with coal dust; and taking the expenses of guide, over- clothing, and fees to the workmen together, got off with about five dollars in all — a pretty fair sum for gratifying our laudable curiosity in a Newcastle coal mine. But the shilling is all potent in England. It opens churches and towers — swings back the ponderous gates of the castle — introduces the stranger into the sacred places of old, abbeys and convents — and bows the possessor obsequiously through the palaces of the nobles of the realm. It leads to decayed ruins, and gains information respecting wonder- ful places. Its glittering visage begets hospitality and civility, and opens to its lucky owner the richest galleries of ancient and modern art. It wins esteem and commands respect, attracts ob- servation and hides defects. It opens the doors of prohibited places and reveals the secret recesses in donjon-cells and keeps — it imparts knowledge and confers honor — and covers a multitude of sins. It is a subject of worship, and receives the adoration of 204 THE FOOTPATH AND IIIGUWAY; the bishop as well as the admiration of the tradesman. In a word, it is sovereign, and doubly blest is he who **In silken or in leathern purse retains A splendid sLilling." York is a wonderful city — one rich in churches, ruins, and Gothic fanes. Thick walls — strong and turreted — with towers and battlements — almost encircle it, and afford a splendid promenade. The lliver Ouse flows through the town, but, as it differs from most of the English streams in being clear, it gives variety and charm to the quaint old city. The Minster is the wonder, but I deferred my visit to its soaring towers and impres- sive aisles until I had seen the less admired churches within the city walls. First along the crooked streets — so narrow, so ser- pentine, so mazy in their labyrinthine windings — but still so strange and winning, so quiet and so dreamy, that on you go regardless where you may be conducted, or indifferent as to what old shrine you stumble on, or to what ruined castle or abbey wall your steps may be directed. On one side a lane invites you to explore its wonders and admire its strange old structures. You enter, and follow a sort of mental ujnis /atuuHf which leads you forward step by step, until you are almost bewildered with the circling promenade you have had, and the happiness of soul you have felt in traversing a street in the fair and goodly city. I was filled with admiration for the place, and was half inclined to take for granted that there was nothing but pure religion in its churches until I entered one. It was a splendid shrine, with an air of solemnity around it that exacted reverence. The subdued sunbeams faintly struggled through its glass of brilliant coloring, and diffused through the interior the ''dim religious light" of which Milton so sweetly speaks. A jockey i.sh parson was reading the impressive burial-service over the body of an infant as I entered; ho turned his sickly, calf-like eyes upon me as I stepped into the aisle, and drawled out the beautiful language of the ceremony in a spiritless, soulless strain that made mo think ho would rather be present at the horse- OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 205 race near at hand than in the pulpit where he stood. He was the veriest burlesque of a clergyman I ever saw, and disgusted me with his unbecoming conduct. I could not tolerate him, and withdrew to view other buildings, although the one in which he officiated was beautiful, and would have detained me longer had he acted more in character with his calling. He certainly did not please me. We require variety to form contrast; without it, all would be dull and unprofitable ; with it the really sublime becomes inspiring, and we drink in the inspiration of the glorious with eagerness and pleasure. I wended my way to the Minster, the most wonderful evidence of the monkish supremacy, and the most commanding edifice in England. Externally it is marked with decay, and time has defaced the walls and discolored the stone — but there is the structure with its splendid windows, its lofty towers, and its magnificent front. It is a proud monument of the past, and its harmonious proportions, rich details, and great magnitude com- mand silence and admiration, and cause the beholder to stand un- covered unconsciously before it. Reverent regard for the men who designed the splendid edifice is entertained by every specta- tor, and it is wonderful to see the ignorant rustic in an attitude of awe and admiration gazing up to its beauties. But enough of the exterior. Let us go within its walls. How high, solemn, and impressive is the glorious transept. Look away into the distant perspective, on to that gorgeous window — it glows with all the colors known to man — that is ideal sublimity realized! Now turn your gaze up, along those perfect Gothic columns, and let the eye follow them to the very roof of heaven, as it were, where the graceful arches meet in beauty. Two hundred feet above your bead soars the tower roof. The eye never tires at that pageant, nor does the scene pall upon the mind. It elevates the soul, and lifts it high above the cares, and anxieties, and dross of this poor world. There's religion in this fane, and those noble aisles and towering walls proclaim it. That nave is a wonder of itself, and the great window in the centre is like the concave sky in the coloring of a rich sunset, diffused with gold and emerald, topaz and amethyst, ruby and sapphire dyes. But look at this altar 18 206 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; screen, a holy temple like to that of proud Jerusalem, and, as I live, all sculptured stone. Why, a whole century must have been consumed in creating this. Those solemn monarchs appear like petrified men, not sculptured figures! But look above them. There's a dense throng of angels, each with timbrel or celestial reed and face expressive of most heavenly peace, chanting the praise of Him who reigns forever ! How numerous they are ! How perfect in their attitudes and forms, and how appropriate to the place in which they stand ! It's right to call them the Angelic Choir ! But come ; we'll engage that verger to guide us through the fane — down into the crypt — to the chapter-house — to the chancels, and, if you will, around among the musty tombs of long- forgotten and nameless prelates of the church, who flourished here when this proud shrine was Rome's. The chapel rivets attention, and commands silence. Some years ago, a lunatic set fire to this portion of the building, and destroyed the greater part of the interior. The great east window was saved from the flames, and thanks for its preservation. It is regarded as one of the most perfect and imposing specimens of cathedral decorations we have left us, and not improperly. It is seventy-five feet high, and about thirty-five in width at the base, and the ma- sonry and the design of the details are in character with the magnitude and gorgeousness of the splendid ornament. There is a gallery across it, midway up, which is four feet wide; but it looks so small, when viewed from the floor of the chapel, that no one would know that it was a gallery if he were not told. It has the appearance of a sash or mullion. The organ is the largest in the world, and contains eight thousand tubes and eighty stops. Around the choir, to the right and left, arc the stalls of the pre- bendaries; and in front of the great east window, in the same section of the edifice, is the archbishop's throne, in ornament as costly and elegant as that of a sovereign. To the east of the choir is the " Lady Chapel ;" but it is remarkable only for its tombs. <' That is a monument to Sir George Saville," said the verger, " a native of York, who used his utmost endeavors to put an end to the American war. He holds a scroll in his hand, on which is engraved the petition he presented to the throne against OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 207 that unnatural and unjust crusade. I always show that to your countrymen, and I know you are an American/' he concluded, with an inquiring air. I assented, and 1^ became more obliging, and conducted us to the musty crypt, and several Roman sar- cophagi, recently found in the vicinity of York ; for the old city was for four hundred years a Roman military station, and here one of the emperors, Constantino the Great, was born. During the great civil wars, the Parliamentary troops occupied the building as a barracks, and the verger took especial pains to point out the injuries inflicted by the soldiers on the edifice at that time. ^' These niches," said he, " were adorned with statues of saints; but as the Puritans did not admire such ornaments, they destroyed them. These large coffers were made for carrying off the valuables of the church, when the troops withdrew, and Crom- well was not satisfied with the gold and silver, but took away the lead and brass which adorned the Minster, for the purpose of converting them into ammunition. He injured nearly every ca- thedral and abbey in England.'' I told the guide that I greatly esteemed Oliver, and considered him by far the greatest man, both as a statesman and a general, that Great Britain ever produced. He appeared to regard me as heretical, and was not half so obliging afterwards. The chapter-house is a most magnificent part of the edifice, and it has recently been restored and beautified. It is octagonal, and each side, except the entrance, contains a window of richly stained glass, while the walls are ornamented with scroll-work, very ela- borately executed. The whole circumference below the windows, excepting the segment containing the door, is occupied hy forty- four canopied stalls for the canons, who compose the chapter of the cathedral, each of which is decorated profusely with sculp- ture. The roof is simple, but elegant; and the floor is gorgeously inlaid with encaustic tiles, a most beautiful method of ornament- ing an edifice. The softened light diffused through the place gives it a sacred air, and impresses the visitor with a sense of re- verence. In the transepts, both north and south, of the main building, are tombs, on which rest full length marble eflSgies of the dead. 208 THE FOOTPATH AND nianwAY; Some are black with age, and conjecture only attempts to say who the nameless occupants are. It matters but little who rests under the monuments, the ga^r is indifferent as to that, and is more delighted in looking at the marble figures which adorn them than curious to learn to whom they were erected. While standing in the nave, I was unexpectedly joined by the young German whose acquaintance I was so fortunate as to make in Scotland, and re- mained some time with him admiring the glorious structure. While we were together, silent spectators of the splendid nave and aisles, the Minster chime rang wildly out to the bright sky, and filled the immense vault with melodious sound. The great heavy bell of the cathedral joined in the iron clangor, and the air vibrated and rolled as waves to its deafening tones. It was grand — that chime in York Minster. We visited the ruins of St. Mary's Abbey, one of the greatest attractions in York, after we had passed around the splendid Minster. The north wall of the nave of the church is all that remains of the once extensive structure, for it was, when entire, almost as large as the cathedral. Eight windows adorn it, but the mullions are gone, and the wall is nearly covered with ivy. In the same inclosurc are the ruins of a Roman fortification, and the York Museum ; but as the abbey walls are the sole attraction for the stranger, the cupidity of the owners extracts a shilling from the pocket of each visitor for the privilege of looking at the fragments of the ruined Papal shrine. The English talk to us of a desire for gain, and pretend to think that no people in the world covet money more than the Americans, when they themselves take from travellers at every turn, and demand pay for exhibiting the most trifling articles, and the most sacred places. In the conser- vatory connected with the Museum, there was a Victoria Rtgia^ and the owners modestly asked an additional sixpence from each person for the privilege of looking at that single plant. My German friend had a young architect with him who was an enthusiastic admirer of the ecclesiastical edifices of York. Ilis sketch-book was embellished with several exquisite drawings of the Minster, and churches of the place, besides a number made in Wales and Scotland. Wo took an evening walk along the OR, WANDERINGS OE AN AMERICAN. 209 walls of the city, from which we enjoyed some fine views of the old Roman stronghold. Our artist added a fine picture of the town to his collection of sketches, while we took pleasure in the scenery. Large gates span the entrance to the principal streets, and the towers and battlements along the inclosure give the town the appearance of being inclosed by extensive fortifications. Church spires rise in every quarter, and the ruined tower of the castle frowns down upon the quaint city, while over all rises, like a stately and majestic giant, the immense form of the glorious and indescribable Minster. During my stay, the York races came off, and thousands of sportsmen were present. Betting, boasting, gambling, and drink- ing were the order of the day, and night closed over a scene of prolonged debauchery. The streets were filled with pedestrians, and at the corners men were to be seen singing in stupid strains and verse the achievements of the winning horse. Ballad-singers, candy-women, and itinerant dealers generally mingled in the throng, and the moral influences of a horse-race were exhibited in the streets of York. A swaggering rider bet on his favorite filly, and staked his shillings with as much consequence as his master did his pounds; and the successful gamblers fleeced the stupid clowns. London sent her delegates of ''the Fancy;" and the tradesmen and innkeepers of the town made a good harvest of the " meeting," as they term the racing. These black- guard gatherings are demoralizing and pestilential in their effects; but England loves to encourage both horse-racing and ring-fights, and, when the wealthy in most instances support and foster these branches of popular education, it is not surprising that the poor and ignorant take pride in witnessing the sport, and keeping holiday, when occasion permits. Having satisfied my curiosity at the antique city of York, I availed myself of a cheap excursion train to the metropolis, and set out in company with my German friends, through a country rich in yellow grain ready for the sickle, and over a por- tion of the dreary wolds of Yorkshire. We made a short stop at Doncaster, and then dashed on to Lincoln. Miles before we 210 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; reached that city, we obtained a sight of its lofty and imposing cathedral and stately castle. Both buildings stand on an eminence, and command a prospect of great extent. The beautiful Gothic fane is not surrounded by houses, and consequently affords a splendid view. A stay of twenty minutes enabled us to run up the hill on which it stands, and walk around the structure. Niches, now saintless, and rich carvings embellish its external walls, and around it spreads a velvety sward, as soft to the tread as a rich carpet. Portions of the old walls which once inclosed the city still remain, and one or two gateways span as many streets. The city is not large, nor is it very handsome, but it has many attractions for the stranger, and is well worth a visit. A stay of a few minutes allowed no time for an examination into the habits and condition of the inhabitants, and not sufficient for a look at its principal structures. From Lincoln to Peterborough the road lay through the re- claimed fens, one of the most fertile and productive grain countries in the world, and as the crops were ripe for harvest, we saw numbers of people in the fields reaping. Women and fair young girls were engaged in this rural labor, and many a bright eye glanced at our lengthened train as it pursued its iron way. The country is almost a dead level, and at no remote bygone period was a vast and useless swamp. Now, thanks to science in mechanics and agriculture, the whole surface is drained tho- roughly, and fields of waving grain, and numerous farm-houses, and villages and cities abound throughout the district. The system of drainage is most excellent, and the same that is used generally in England and Scotland. Large ditches are cut through certain parts of the land, and some of them are so extensive as to greatly resemble canals. Into these flows the drainage of the land, which is conducted through earthen pipes, laid under ground, in almost every field. The only comparison I can make, by which a correct idea of the plan can be imparted to others who have not seen it, is to say that the system is the same for drainage here as that used for supplying water to the city of IMiiladolphia. No conduits are seen — all arc under ground, and the water is conducted from tlie surface in,to small reservoirs, 211 which lead to the pipes, and through these pipes into the large canals, and then into the natural streams. Some of the rivers are embanked to prevent overflows, and the country reminds one of Holland, where they " scoop out the sea, and usurp the shore." We made a short stop at Boston, in Lincolnshire, a considerable town near the sea-coast, and had time to see its famous church, the spire on which is three hundred feet high, and can be seen at a distance of forty miles in clear weather. Nearly all the cities, in this section of England, boast a cathedral or other noble eccle- siastical edifice, and every village has its Gothic church and soar- ing tower and spire. By the time we arrived at Boston, our company had grown so- ciable and mutually entertaining. The young ladies were agree- able and — pretty. The Germans were polite and gentlemanly, and chatted English intelligibly enough. The Englishmen relaxed their usual stiffness, and joined freely in the conversation. I, as the representative of young America, came in for an occasional rub about slavery and our territorial acquisitions, and the show we made at the Exhibition; I laughed at their jokes, and, as the yacht " America'' had just beaten the whole fancy fleet of such English craft at Cowes with ease, I had some show for fight, and did not hesitate about exulting at the achievement of my country- men. I intimated to them that Jonathan would play them a Yankee trick yet, and take the conceit out of the nation in more things than building ships, and they had the candor to acknow- ledge that it was very likely he would. The time passed away pleasantly as we fled through the counties of Lincoln and North- ampton, and, in fact, during the entire journey. At Peterborough we made another half hour's stay, and looked at its hale ca- thedral, the burial-place of Catharine of Arragon, and, for a time, of Mary, Queen of Scots, who, it appears, was not even allowed repose in death, and she was afterwards removed from Peterbo- rough to Westminster Abbey. As we approached the modern Babylon, the country became more hilly, and parks more numerous. Our route lay through a number of old and remarkable towns, among which were Huntingdon, the birthplace of Cromwell, and Bedford, the place in which Bunyan wrote his '^ Pilgrim's Progress," 212 TUE FOOTPATH AND UIGUWAY; and near which city ho was born. Hertford, and Barnet, a town celebrated for a fight which took place near it during the wars of the Roses, in which the great Earl of Warwick fell, were success- ively passed; and then we pressed on to the great city, which we entered after night in the bustle and confusion incident to the arrival of an immense train within its bounds. I parted for the time with my German friends and travelling companions, and wended my way along the crowded thoroughfares of the metro- polis to my former lodgings. Thousands of people thronged the streets, and the black smoke obscured the stars and moon — the atmosphere was not that of the country, nor the inhabitants liko those of the smaller cities. As I passed the numerous gin-palaces on my route, the fumes of liquor impregnated the air, and the dazzling light from the windows of these sinks of iniquity flared broad in the streets, and contrasted strongly with the dark slums and back lanes which lay in my walk. Degraded men and women crowded the bar-rooms of the poison palaces, and the atmosphere was thick with smoke and the fumes of gin. I pressed on, and gained my destination, where I met a hearty and sincere wel- come home; still, I could not divest my mind of thoughts con- cerning the scenes I had just witnessed — ^the change from the rural to the metropolitan life was so great. Surely enough, " God made the country, man made the town.'' CHAPTER XXI. LONDON — NORTHUMBERLAND HOUSE — HAMITON COURT — MADAME TAUSSAUD's — VERNON GALLERY, ETC. The metropolis of England is uuliko any other city in the world; it has no counterpart, no imitation. lis great magni- tude, its busy throngs, its sombre aspect, its squalid misery, and matchless splendor, alike defy description and claim observation. A writer may throw a few sketches of it together, and call them OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 213 a picture of London ; but he who examines the tableau will de- tect its many defects, and expose its inaccuracies. No one can convey to the mind of another, by means of words, a correct idea of its wonders and peculiarities; nor is it possible for a reader to comprehend its greatness and its poverty, its glory and its shame. I was as much a stranger in it on my second visit as at my first ; and threaded its thoroughfares, eager to behold its curiosities, and admire its many attractions. There was an endless throng of con- veyances and pedestrians in the streets, the noise from which was ceaseless and stunning. Carriages dashed past, bearing the wealthy on to the abodes of luxury, while shoeless men and women roamed the sideways, begging the passers-by to purchase of their stock of wares — a cane, a knife, a dancing- spider, or some other useless toy. The Great Exhibition was still in existence, and crowds from the provinces, as well as thousands of foreigners, had taken up their temporary abode in the royal city. New attractions had been added to the many already designed for the edification and delight of the people, and the Duke of Northumberland, with a praise- worthy liberality, worthy honorable mention, had ordered his town- residences — Syon and Northumberland Houses — to be opened to the public. Both are fine mansions, and princely in their internal arrangements. Northumberland House is in the city, at Charing Cross; and is mainly remarkable for a superb marble stairway, which leads from the ground to the first floor. The rooms are hung around with pictures by the old masters — the most valuable being the original of the " Cornaro Family," by Titian. The ball- room, a very large and lofty apartment, is adorned with copies of two of Raphael's great works — "The Marriage Feast of Cupid and Psyche," and the "School of Athens;" and a copy, by Mengs, of Guide's "Aurora." The paintings are of great magnitude, and occupy three sides of the room, which is decidedly the finest in the palace. The furniture, although costly, did not appear to me to be in character with the splendor of the decorations and extent of the place, and some faded tapestry in a particular de- partment would better suit a rag-shop than the walls it now defaces. 214 THE FOOTPATIl AND highway; Syon House is a few miles from town on the Thames, near Brentford. It contains some fine pictures by Vandyke, and several of Sir Peter Lely's and Kneller's best productions. The " long room" is embellished with portraits of the Percys, from the days of William the Conqueror down to our own time, in- cluding one of the valiant Hotspur. The drawing-room is the finest apartment, being hung with rich crimson damask, and orna- mented at the ceiling with paintings from ancient mythology. In the entrance-hall is a number of verd-antique marble columns, said to have been recovered from the Tiber at Rome; and several fine bronze figures of great excellence. The grounds are extensive and extremely sylvan. They abound in secluded walks and shady groves, tall cedars of Lebanon and brave old elms. The Thames flows not far from the house, and although the building is very plain, the scenery around gives the visitor a strong partiality for the quiet and princely residence. Thousands of persons availed themselves of the privilege of visiting the two mansions, and the strictest decorum and propriety characterized the conduct of all. Many were the wives and daughters of London tradesmen and mechanics, and in no instance did I ob- serve the slightest rudeness on the part of a single individual — a proof to me that it does not require a person to be of noble blood, even in England, to be of good manners and genteel behavior. Hampton Court, the former residence of the deposed and dis- graced Wolsey, is now the resort of the public, and the freed, toil-worn citizens of London fly to it on Sundays to drink in the rich air of its magnificent parks, and admire the wealth of its splendid galleries. They go there by thousands, and well may they be proud of the privilege their sovereign grants them, of viewing the monarchic palace, and living in its healthful grounds. I have seen thirty thousand persons there at one time, nearly all of whom were London mechanics and their families, and not once did I notice a single improper act. Every individual conducted himself as if upon his behavior depended the reputation of his class, and he was determined it should not suffer in his keeping. Cheerfulness, sociability, and a spirit of kindness characterized all, from the little child to the grayheaded man ; and not a pro- 216 fane or vulgar expression fell from the lips of an individual. Of the vast throng there, there was not one who exhibited the least sign of intoxication, but all were sober, respectful, and devoted to rational enjoyment. Each had a proper respect for the rights of others, and each revelled intellectually in the feast to which he was admitted. The intelligent mechanics and tradesmen of London are a refined people, and they appreciate the favor they have of visiting Hampton Court on the Sabbath, and never abuse it. Their enjoyment of the day at the old palace, and in its glorious grounds, is not a desecration, but both a harmless and beneficial use of the time. They feel when there that life has a sweet draught mixed with its bitterness, and if many of them do not hold to a religious observance of the Sabbath, they welcome it as a glorious boon from Heaven, a day of rest from toil and a release from confinement. The palace is built in the quadrangular form, and is of vast extent. The entrance to the first court-yard is adorned with busts of Tiberius, Vitellius, Trajan, and Hadrian, all of which were sent to Wolsey from Rome by Pope Leo the Tenth. A large hall to the left of this entrance contains some fine tapestry embellished with splendid designs, and a glorious window with the red hat of a cardinal conspicuously marked on its glass of gay colors; while around are the coats of arms of deceased monarchs and queens, and halberts, pikes, and banners. The apartment is said to have been used as a theatre in the reigns of Elizabeth and James, and that the play of Henry the Eighth, or the Fall of Wolsey, was represented in it first on the very spot which had witnessed the prelate's greatest power and splendor. The presence chamber contains seven cartoons of great merit, by Carlo Cignani, and the galleries and various apartments are literally lined with masterpieces of art. There are " Countesses mature'' in robes and pearls, by Kneller, and beauty speaks from out the canvas. Sweet girls and capricious belles, by Sir Peter Lely. Here shines a Titian in all its glories; there young Palma stains the canvas with the blood of martyrs ; before you a Van- dyke wooes the sight, and at your right a gloomy Tintoretto. Here a Saint, by Parmigiano, pleads and begs you to release him 216 TUE FOOTPATH AND niGHWAYj from the pain be suffers, while glorious Rubens calms you into peace ! There's old Jordaens, there a Snyders, there a golden and celestial Claude, and here a rich and sweet Murillo. There's a Giorgone black as night, and here a very gem of Guido ; while around you shines a world of triumphs by a hundred artists. Here the genius of Caravaggio left its impress, and there sublime Angelo holds the vision captive. Spagnoletto stained this form with sainted gore, and gloomy Spada colored that St. John. Paul Veronese, Leonardo da Vinci, and matchless Ricci, crowned the place with all the holy ! Here's a rich Ferrato; and a warrior by Guercino scowls from yonder frame, as if he meant to step down and slay the gaping gazers. There's a Rembrandt dark as Hades, yet as light as day. Here a Venus by Albano and at its side a faultless masterpiece of old Teniers. And even West, he of the bloodless palette from beyond the far Atlantic, here shines in glory and vies with all the masters of the olden time in his lights and shadows, splendid forms, and rich celestial coloring. I'll give him praise for once, dash away my prejudice, and own he WAS AN ARTIST. But, ovcr all the throng, triumphant and sub- lime, unapproached and unapproachable, stands the youthful artist, glorious and immortal Raphael. The others' pictures are but shadows when compared with his cartoons — the very per- fection of design. I shall never think of Hampton Court without summoning up a lengthened and imposing throng of painters, who, with noble air, shall pass in file before me; and at the bead and front of all will be the form of Raphael with that calm face of his, so full of art and genius ! The Vernon Gallery, at Marlboro' House, is composed almost exclusively of the productions of modern English artists. Some of the works are remarkable, but none exhibit the soul that glows in the picture of the artists of the Flemish and Italian schools. The pictures have the appearance of having been done to order, and it is an established fact that no painter ever yet produced a masterpiece when he painted solely for lucre. The idea of work- ing in art for money drives the inspiration away, and the result is a senseless unfeeling effort of the pencil ; rich it may bo in color- ing, and possessing decided mechanical merit, but wanting most ccr- OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 21T tainly the poetry and soul- elevating characteristics of the works of those whose labor in art was a religion, those who painted from a be- lief in what they did and a faith in their chosen profession. The pictures of Gainsborough are the best in the collection, and evidence the superiority and sincerity of the artist. The Hogarths, in the same building, stand pre-eminent for their truthfulness to nature and character. One of the great resorts of sight-seers in London is Madame Tussaud's exhibition of wax figures, and scarcely a night passes that the place is not densely thronged with gaping and admiring humanity. The untravelled countryman and his rustic daughters there see the sovereign in regal robes, and her descendants repre- sented in yellow wax, and look with admiring wonder on the stupid show. Wretched figures of more wretched kings and queens are judiciously disposed for exhibition, and the tin spangles on their faded robes glitter in the gas-light, and astonish the delighted and loyal crowd. A whole host of the line of Brunswick stand around like wooden men and women, with eyes agape, staring upon the throng who stare again at them. Miserable caricatures of Napoleon, Washington, Cromwell, Shakspeare, and Byron occupy niches, and the soul sickens at the contemplation of the figures, they so outrage humanity. Each one looks as if ophthal- mia were a distemper of the atmosphere, and all sufier from the sad disease. Shakspeare is represented as a modern dandy, "who cultivates his hair;'' and Byron as a Greek, with a belt around the waist containing a whole arsenal of arms. One naturally enough concludes, after viewing that caricature, that his lordship is admirably prepared for a Cuban expedition, and " Was the mildest mannered man That ever scuttled ship, or cut a throat," and took delight in nothing short of murder. Other figures are arranged throughout the apartments, Qnd some of them even move. A Chinese lady nods her head most vehemently at times, and after the lacqueys wind up Cobbett, that worthy old gentleman twists his neck determinedly until the weights run down, when he very wisely keeps himself quiet until put in motion again by the ma- 19 218 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; chinery. There are some miserable pictures around the walls, and several plaster casts of female forms, none of which are re- markable for beauty. But this is not all. The " room of horrors" invites attention next, as if there were not enough of horrors in the first apartments to horrify any decent, well-disposed individual. The difference between the two sections is, I suppose, that the first contains the murdered, the last the murderers, as every one who sees the figures in both must acknowledge. The chamber of horrors is rich in the wonderful of the cri- minal world; and there the enlightened and intelligent can see Mrs. Manning, and others equally distinguished, who have added to the Newgate literature of England. Every exertion has been made to cause the poor wretches to look as rascally as possible ; and the artist is not even content with that, but must call them, in the catalogue, all the " diabolical" names to which he can con- tort his classical tongue. Burke, the Edinburgh miscreant, is represented as a fiend incarnate, and his face is well calculated to frighten children to death. Napoleon's carriage is in the apart- ment; but I could not ascertain what crime that unfortunate vehicle had been guilty of to entitle it to a place in that horrible chamber of horrors. It surely did not commit murder; and yet, why is it there? So much for Madame Tussaud's exhibition of wax figures, the resort of the curious, and a sham to please or alarm children. It is, without misrepresentation, the most abo- minable abomination in the great city, and the very audience-ball of humbugs. Barnum ought to have it. CHAPTER XXII. JEWISH QUARTER — PUBLIC STATUES — PECULIARITIES. There is a street in the Whitcchapcl section of London called Petticoat Lane, a long, narrow avenue, almost entirely occupied by a set of low, thieving Jews. It is a carriage-way; but in con- OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 219 sequence of being filled with goods, but few vehicles enter it. With Houndsditch, another similarly inhabited, though better con- ditioned thoroughfare in the neighborhood, it comprises the Jew- ish quarter of the metropolis. Both sides of the narrow, filthy alley are lined with shops, filled with trumpery of every kind. Old clothes (and no one will doubt their being old), broken china, shabby furniture, rusty iron, dirty children, slatternly women, and vagabond-looking men crowd the place. At one side, the curious wight who enters the avenue is almost forced into a shop to buy a hat better than new; while, at the other, an opposition dealer insists that you purchase of him, and declares his neighbor will cheat you. The centre of the lane is occupied with stands, on which is exposed for sale a conglomeration of such trumpery as only Jews would collect or offer to sell. The whole of the in- habitants look like professional thieves, from the children up, and it is the presence only of the police that prevents a man being robbed in broad daylight. No one can be mistaken in the people. All possess the indisputable nose that characterizes the tribe of Judah; and the sharp, penetrating black eye, and sinister, dis- honest, avaricious expression of countenance exhibited by all, induce the visitor to make a hasty retreat from Petticoat Lane. I thought the very atmosphere of the place thick with villany ; and when I reached my lodgings took my coat off and aired it, so as to get rid of the infection. Talk about the Five Points! Pshaw! In gaming phrase, Petticoat Lane will beat it, and give it a thousand start. The public statues of persons of distinction in London are nu- merous. Wellington has at least two, both of which are eques- trian. The best is in front of the Royal Exchange and the Bank. The other is over the triumphal arch at Hyde Park corner, and opposite Apsley House. There is a very fine bronze figure of George the Third, mounted, in Cockspur Street; and one of Charles the First, at Charing Cross, immediately before the Nel- son Pillar, on the top of which stands a colossal figure of the great naval captain. George the Fourth had a statue of himself placed on one of the pedestals in Trafalgar Square, at his own expense, und it remains to this day as a monument of his vanity. There is a very fine pedestrian figure of the sailor king, William 220 THE FOOTPATH AND IIIGHWAY; the Fourth, at the foot of King William Street, near Londoa Bridge, on wliat is said to be the site of Dame Quigley's Boar's Head Tavern. It is a masterpiece, and one of the best public statues in London. There are representations in bronze, in the public squares, of Fox, Pitt, and Canning; and a really graceful and fine figure of James the Second in the court-yard of White Hall. A tall column, of Scotch granite, rises near Carlton Ter- race to an altitude of one hundred and some forty feet, attracting considerable attention. It is surmounted with a fine bronze statue of a portly, baldheaded man, and can be seen to great advantage from St. James's Park. A few days after my entrance into Lon- don, I was walking near the shaft, and not knowing to whom it was erected, I asked a man of genteel appearance what it was. " We call that," said he, looking up to it with a sarcastic smile, " the I. 0. U. column. It was built by subscription to the memory of the Duke of York, a man who died indebted to almost every tradesman in London who would trust him; and it would have been more to the honor of those who built it if they had paid some of his starving creditors with the money, instead of erecting that to insult those he cheated." I did not expect such a reply; and as my informant was of the class called tradesmen, I concluded that His Royal Highness, the valiant Duke of York, had left him some mementos of his great- ness in the shape of unpaid bills. The circulating medium of England is gold, silver, and copper, a currency far superior to flimsy paper, and one with which there is not the slightest difficulty. The American is impressed with its utility and excellence at once and lastingly. There is no trouble about change, and as the currency is the same throughout the three kingdoms, a man is never at a loss in a strange place to know whether his money is current or not. The lowest note is £5, or about §25; and go where you will, that always commands its full value in gold or silver. I often thought, when ram- bling about the kingdom, how much superior is the currency of monarchical England, couiparcd with the trashy paper of our llcpublie. I had not occasion to pay an exorbitant discount on flimsy, soiled, and mutilated bills in every town I entered, as 221 one must do in the United States, nor did I run the risk of hav- ing a counterfeit note palmed on me when I required change. The sovereigns and shillings were always at par, no matter where I went, and never refused; and that is more than can he said honestly of one-half of the notes of the many swindling banks now circulating in our land. The Grovernment has established a very convenient system of forwarding remittances, which is .worth describing. It is con- nected with the post-office, and has its branches in every town, and nearly every village in the country. The plan is simple and reliable. The person remitting goes to the money order office, as the head-quarters are called, and obtains a draft for the amount required payable at a given place. The order is forwarded by mail by the one who bought it; and at the same time information is transmitted by the Government agent to the office on which the draft is made, stating the sum, and the name of the person sending. The person who receives it presents the order; and, after signing his name to a receipt on its face, is asked who the order is from. If the answer be satisfactory, the amount is paid at once; but if not, it is withheld until the one presenting the draft shows conclusively that he is the proper recipient. Sixpence is charged on sums of five pounds or less, and when the advantages are taken into consideration it is very reasonable. Fraud seldom or never results from the system, and losses are rare. Some per- sons pretend to think the Grovernment has no right to act the part of a small exchange broker; but the majority think other- wise, and as the system prevents sharpers from taking advantage of the necessities of those who want to make remittances in small amounts, it is popular among the masses, and both useful and safe. Notices of habits and customs are worthy of record, and probably a description of a London barber's shop may not be uninteresting. They differ much from the showy and convenient saloons for shaving so numerous in the United States, and are neither clean nor attractive. The barber is usually a slovenly sort of fellow, or an arrant dandy, whose " odoriferous attempts to please" are detestable. Hair-dressing is his proper business, and as nearly all Englishmen in respectable life shave themselves, the barber 19* ooo THE rOOTTATn AND niOIIWAT J Las more use for his scissors than his razor. The shop is indiffer- ently fitted up — the chair for shaving being one of the ordinary kind, without a head-rest or support for the feet, and the subject is obliged to sit in it upright, as if invested with a strait-jacket. As soon as he is seated, the knight of the razor applies the soap with a brush, and then proceeds to shave — an operation he usually performs in a very negligent and imperfect manner. The conveni- ences for washing are indifferejat, and as the shaved is obliged to dress his own hair, he must do so with a 'puUic comb, provided for the purpose; and also dry his face with the public towel, both of which may have been used by twenty persons before he had occasion for them. The charge for the favor is two-pence, or about four cents ; but in many cases not more than half that sum is demanded, and the service is dearly bought at that. Many English travellers in the United States tell stories about people here using the same tooth-brush, and in their holy fright at our barbarity entirely forget that it is a common thing in England for men to use, in a barber's shop, the same shaving-brush, razor, comb, hair-brush, and towel, and know very well that no man who gets shaved there at a hairdresser's has his own cup, razor, towel, and brush, as every permanently resident gentleman has who is shaved at a barber's shop in the United States. It is true that we have many habits to reform, but there are few only of them worse than the one here noticed. CHAPTER XXIII. WAITING FOR RKMITTANCE8 — A TRIP INLAND — TllAVELUNQ COMPANIONS — THE COUNTRY — THE TOWNS — A JOURNEY ON FOOT — FARM WAGES — MEN AND TUEIR SHOES — THE LAN- GUAGE. Wkauy of London, and disappointed in not receiving letters from home, I determined to await no longer the tardy action of 223 my friends, but to proceed inland, and visit such parts of the country as circumstances would allow and inclination might prompt. Yorkshire, although distant from the metropolis, pre- sented a region yet unexplored, and various circumstances directed me to that section of country. With a sadness, I bade farewell to my generous friends in the metropolis, and set out on my jour- ney. The rain threatened, and when I arrived at the station it was to learn that the hour of departure had been changed, and I would of necessity be compelled to wait for a considerable period. The time hung heavily on me, and a short stroll in Regent's Park did not contribute much to relieve my anxiety. The hour at last arrived, and having obtained a comfortable seat, I made myself as contented as possible under the circumstances, endeavoring to reconcile myself to the stupid company around me. My travel- ling companions regarded me as a vara avis, and it was some time before they ascertained to what country I belonged. ^' You are not a Frenchman ?" said one, with a puzzled look, fearful lest he had made a mistake, and yet ambitious to be con- sidered an adept in recognizing foreigners. " No ! I am not a Frenchman,'^ I replied in a tone by no means calculated to encourage or induce further questions. " Then your loike to be a Yankee, or I'm greetly mista'cn.'^ ^' Y^es, I am an American,^' and then several chimed in and gave their opinions of slavery and war. One or two thought Jonathan would be too much for John Bull, should another con- test arise between the two countries, while others entertained opinions to the contrary. '' The Yankees are too impudent, and ought to be thrashed, and the sooner it is done the better." I made no answer, expressed no opinion, and consequently provoked no ill feeling. Silence is a virtue when a person is in such com- pany, and even if it be not so, I was too dejected at the time to take much interest in a conversation with those from whom what little information I might gain would be of such a character as to be scarcely worth preserving. It is said that knowledge can be obtained from a jackass, but it would puzzle a good chemist to extract the smallest particle of that useful article from a whole army of such donkeys as surrounded me at that time. They were 224 THE FOOTPATn AND HionwAY; the dumbest bipeds of the race I ever saw, unquestionably, and as boorish as they were dumb. We proceeded at a rapid rate, and soon gained the open coun- try. The landscapes were lovely, and although the grain had been gathered from the fields, the pasture was green, and the clumps of wood, and scattered trees, and rich autumnal appear- ance of the hedges made a most delightful succession of scenery. The interior of England is less wild than the coast sections, and more subdued in aspect. Occasionally, the sharp spire or square tower of some old village church starts up from among the trees; and the quiet hamlets, with straw-thatched roofs, look at a dis- tance the very abode of content. The absence of large forests and desolate tracts of land contributes greatly to the pleasing ap- pearance of the country, and makes one love it, whether he will or not ; and, when October's sober brown tinges the hedges, and sears the leaves of the scattered trees, and the quiet cattle graze un- disturbed on the rich sward of the beautiful fields, and the hazy atmosphere sheds a sort of dreamy influence over the landscape, one is impressed lastingly with the poetry of the rural life of England. The rain began to fall heavily, and the day wore away with clouds, as we dashed on towards our destination. We made short stops at several stations, but not long enough to allow time to visit the interesting objects of the towns at which we tarried. The old cathedral of Leicester was too far oflf for examination, and I was compelled to be content with a distant and circum- scribed view of its outer walls. It is a pretty structure, and the town is famous, for it was there that the noted Cardinal Wolsey expired, and other incidents of importance occurred. I^oughboro' came next, and the dazzling lights of a lace factory told unmis- takably how many weary hours the factory- classes are compelled to labor within the walls of such prison-houses. Night closed in, and darkness shut out the landscape. Town after town was passed, and at two o'clock in the morning the train arrived at the city of York. I took my knapsack, and hunted up a tavern. — The landlord descended and admitted me, and as ho was in his bare feet, I had a sight of two of the dirtiest pedal extremities on, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 225 ever worn by mortal. They certainly did not argue much for the cleanliness of the house or its inmates, but, as I had stopped there previously, I knew the place to be clean, and had no cause to change my opinion when shown to a room for the balance of the night. Everything was comfortable, and as a weary man is easily satisfied with a resting-place, after a long travel, in the short hours of the night, I soon fell asleep and forgot my troubles, both mental and physical, in the enjoyment of peaceful rest. The following day dawned gloriously and bright, the rain had ceased, and the soft wind blew fresh from the south-west. York was clean and gayj its quaint and crooked old streets wore a cheerful aspect, and, prompted by their inviting appearance, I took a stroll around the proud and lofty Minster for the last time. The air was redolent of health and the odor of trees, and the town appeared to be enjoying one of Nature's Sabbaths. I looked up in admiration to the peerless structure, and entered its soaring transept with a heart full of the religion of hope and calmness. The dome of heaven, without, lifted my truant thoughts to the Great Creator of the Universe, and caused me to muse his praise in silence; and the rich tracery and gorgeous productions by man within the august pile held my soul captive to sweet and pleasing contemplation; the works of the All-Wise Being inspir- ed me with gratitude, those of the Mundane claimed my admira- tion and praise I But enough of this — " Away, nor let me loiter in my song, For I have many a mountain path to tread," and must descend from the sublime to the commonplace things of this world. At ten o'clock I started for Leeds, a distance of twenty-five miles, a journey I determined to accomplish on foot. The day was favorable to the undertaking, and with my knapsack and staff, pilgrim-like, I took to the road in good spirits. For miles there was but little to interest, and the landscape presented no remarkable features, either natural or artificial. A few miles to my right lay the field of Marston Moor, famous for being the scene of a fierce and desperate struggle between the Parliamentary 226 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; troops and those of Charles the First, but except its historical celebrity it has no attractions for the visitor at this day. Some farm hands and hcdgers were at work in the fields and along the road-side, but they were a stupid set, and spoke a dialect scarcely intelligible. Their condition was poor, and from the amount of wages they receive it would be unjust to expect them to live better than they do under the circumstances. Seven shillings a week for working on a farm from daylight to dark will not afford a married man, with a wife and three or four children, many com- forts ; and if he and his family are ignorant, it is not much won- der, and certainly npt his fault, when there are no schools but such as must be paid for dearly, and no food but what costs ex- travagantly. Clownishncss and stupidity are the natural results of the social and political condition of the rustic population of England ; and so long as men are regarded by those who are their superiors in wealth and position as but little better than swine, so long will the farm hands of Great Britain be held in their present condition. In this section of the country, the men wear that abominable approximation to a petticoat — the smock-frock, and shoes suflficiently heavy to answer the purpose of street paving. They plod along with a shuffling gate, and it is not surprising when one looks at the immense weight they have attached to their feetr I weighed a pair of the shoes, and they fell but little short of six pounds and a half, and appeared to me to be heavy enough to fix a man to the ground without any fur- ther weight. The nails in the soles are oftentimes three-eighths of an inch square on the head, and as the bottoms are full of such ornaments, the great weight cannot be wondered at. I havo measured the heels of some of these rustic dancing pumps, and found them to be an inch and a half thick, with soles in pro- portion, and then filled with the nails above described. The language of the great mass of the inhabitants of York- shire is a jargon it would bo an insult to call English, and only intelligible to those who imbibed it in their childhood, or bavo acquired it by study. But few readers, I presume, are familiar with the classical productions of the Lancashire hard, Tim Bob- bin, but if they wish to learn something of the tongue of his OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 227 section of the world, they had better obtain a copy of his works, and then they will be able to appreciate the beauties of his native language, after they have studied it suflficiently to comprehend it — a thing not easily done without the aid of a competent linguist. He wrote in his vernacular, and as that is the present language of Yorkshire, his work is a curiosity. Take the following spe- cimen, and it will give some faint idea of the common and usual style of speech : — "An ther wur a peinter that lived unce at Halifax (but hes been livin a Froglan a mony a yer sin), an int' order o' his per- fesshun he wor called aught o't'tawen t-goa t-at gentlemans hawse to tak t'likeness o' sum o' his cattle !" That may be considered fair — not exaggerated — but much better than is generally spoken, and yet it would puzzle any but a linguist to tell what is meant by it. To translate it into English, it would be : " And there was a painter that lived once at Halifax (but he has been living at Frogland for many a year since), and in the order of his pro- fession he was called out of town to go to a gentleman's house, to take the likeness of some of his cattle." The grammatical arrangement is not correct, but the paragraph is copied literally from a printed work, and is nearly an exact specimen of the best of the spoken language of the country people of Yorkshire and Lancashire. I frequently met with persons whose speech was so outrageous that I could not understand what they said, and they were equally at a loss to comprehend me. The road over which I travelled is through a gently rising country, and, like the majority of the highways in England, it has a foot- walk running its entire length. For miles this way is flagged, and were it not for the continuous hedges and open country, the pedestrian would almost imagine himself on the edge of a town, while following its level course. I entered the village of Tadcaster about noon, and, after dinner, looked around the place. My land- lord was one of those who judge of people's pockets by the ap- pearance of their garments — a practice not confined to England; and when the servant asked the price of my bread and cheese, some questions were propounded to which I was an accidental listener. 228 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; "Is he dressed well?'' was inquired by the host; and, a satisfac- tory answer being given, the waiter was directed to charge me seven pence ha'penny for what a person poorly clad would have had to pay about four pence. I settled the score, knowing well that it would be the last one I would ever pay in that house, and went out to look at the village, which is a pleasant place, quite clean, and blest with streets much wider than those of many other ham- lets in which it has been my lot to rest. The River Wharf flows through the place, and as it is clear and placid, it contrasts strongly with the black waters of the streams, which run through the manufacturing towns. A fine stone bridge spans the current a short distance above, where is a beautiful arti- ficial cascade, which far surpasses all the natural falls I saw in the island. The church is an old G othic structure, with a square tower, and stands in a bower of trees on the river's bank. Time has dealt harshly with its walls, and but little care is taken of the burial-ground around the edifice. Children were romping among the tombs when I was there, and cattle were cropping the grass, which grew on the hillocks, under which " The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep." As I pursued my course towards Leeds, the land became more elevated, and the village spires shot heavenward from the distant valleys. Large farm-houses occasionally met ray view, and their appearance was so different from what I had seen in other parts that I could not fail to notice them. The barns, in most cases, were immense, and strongly resembled those of Lancaster County, Pennsylvania. Some were of brick, others of stone, and all sub- stantially built. The farm-yards were filled with large stacks of grain, for it is a custom to keep the wheat in the car, in many cases, until there is a demand for it, or it is sold; and, conse. qucntly, it is housed or stacked under a thatched cover. Numbers of cattle were grazing in the pasture lands, and once in a while I met a drove of well fed mutton on its way to market. The drovers were accompanied by one or two shepherd dogs — an animal which, for sagacity, surpasses all the canine species wo have amongst us. They are wonderful, and it is surprising to see them keep a flock OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 229 of sheep under control. If one goes out of the direct route, the dog, unbidden, dashes ahead, and drives the wanderer back to the flock. Sometimes, when in a hurry, he bounds over every obstacle in his course, and the backs of the sheep afford him a safe bridge in his determination to get ahead. If the drove comes to a crossroad, he keeps in front, and watches vigilantly the flock under his charge. If one attempts to take the wrong course, away he goes, and, by barking and following it up, drives it back to the throng, and waits quietly until all have passed, when he moves on in their wake, carelessly, and apparently indiflferent to his charge. But a want of vigilance is not a characteristic of him. He is ever watchful, and never neglects his duty, and when occasion requires, is quick to perform his part. He is of a small race, has the appearance of a hungry wolf, with a sharp face, and a restless and ever-watchful eye, and, to take his performances as an evidence of his worth, he is the most valuable of the canine tribe. A few miles to the south-west of Tadcaster, I met an African — one of the blackest of that sooty race. He was dressed rather fantastically, and meeting him, as I did, in such a remote section of the world, my curiosity was excited as to who and what he was. On inquiry, he told me he was a native of Congo, on the coast of Africa, and had been in England eight years. His main support was derived from the sale of books, and he had with him a number of volumes, which he was trying to dispose of to the country people. He said that he was not successful in his business in the section of country through which he was then passing, and found no encouragement to proceed. His speech was broken, and strgngly marked with the negro accent ; but I am free to say that he spoke English much better than many of the natives with whom I conversed. After parting from him a short time, I met a white woman with two children, and it did not require much penetration to satisfy me that the curly-headed urchins, who called her mother, were the off'spring of herself and the Afri- can, with whom I had so recently been in conversation. The boys were of a light brown complexion, and had all the characteristics of a thorough amalgamation of colors in their hue and features. The 20 230 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; white predominated, however, and altogether the young sprouts of the two races were rather prepossessing than otherwise. The mo- ther was a fair specimen of the lower class of English women, and appeared to be proud of her ebony progeny, and happy in the love of her black lord, who was certainly as sooty as the most particular delineator of Shakspeare could desire Othello to be, though there is little reason to suppose that he entertained the jealous feeling of the Moor, for he was of a cheerful and contented disposition. A short distance on my right, when a few miles from Tadcaster, I passed a village called Towton, celebrated for a battle fought near it, on Palm Sunday, 1641, between the rival houses of York and Lancaster, in the famous wars of the Roses. At a few hun- dred yards from the village, is an obelisk of about forty feet in height ; but I was unable to learn what it was placed there for, although it may, properly, be conjectured that it was erected to commemorate the scene of battle. As I neared Leeds, the country became quite thickly spotted with villages, but none of them were on the road. The famous residence of the once powerful Knights Templar lay but a few miles to my left ; and, being desirous to see the renowned edifice, I diverged from my direct course, and paid it a visit. The reader of " Ivanhoe" will recollect it as Templestowe, and as being the scene of the interview between Isaac of York and the Knights, when the Jew paid the place a visit for the purpose of effecting the release of his daughter. It is called Temple New- sam at this time, and is occupied by a gentleman who is said to be a lineal descendant of one of the soldier priests. The lands attached to the estate are very extensive, and but few places, even in that beautiful country, can boast finer prospects, or nobler elms and oaks than the lordly domain of Temple Newsam. The man- sion stands on the side of a hill, and is almost encircled by trees. In front opens a most living and peaceful landscape, and the mind of the visitor is injpressed with the princely manner of life enjoyed by those who erected and inhabited the old pile. It is, in form, three sides of a quadrangle, and the main entrance-door on the west side of the noble court-yard is adorned on cither side with a full length figure of a Knight Templar, in the peculiar dress of that order; while over the doorway is the bust of some person, either OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 231 real or fabulous. The battlements around the top of the house, facing the court-yard, are ornamented with mottoes in large Piomaa capitals, which, as nearly as I could copy them, are as follows : — ^' All glory and praise be given to God, the Father, Son, and Holy Ghost on high. Peace on earth and good will towards men ; and Honor and true allegiance to our gracious King, and loving affection amongst his subjects. Health and plenty be within this house." The letters have a singular appearance, and the old mansion, with its strange ornaments and antiquated look, comes nearer to my ideal of a baronial hall than any other building I saw in the land. It is the very place for happiness, and its historical asso- ciations, aside from the charms thrown over it by the novelist, make it a place of interest; and the man who could not enjoy life within its great walls should be compelled to live in the filthy town, whose tall tapering chimneys and black smoke rise in full view from the rear of the mansion. Seven miles distant, I distinctly saw the dark vapors from its countless manufactories, hovering over the great cloth town. They ascended into the pure air above, and polluted it as you would a crystal stream by pouring ink of the blackest hue into its trans- parent waters. Where I stood, the atmosphere was pure and uncontaminated, and the dewy air was laden with health to those who were fortunate enough to inhale it, while in the distant town the overworked artisan and eager citizen were breathing an element thick with smoke and productive of disease. Weary and sore, I entered Leeds, and plodded my way along its crooked, steep, and dirty streets to a comfortable, and to me welcome inn, at which rest and quiet were to be commanded. After a good supper, I enjoyed a night of sweet refreshing sleep. 232 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; CHAPTER XXIV. LEEDS AND HER MANUFACTURES — WORKING PEOPLE — KIRK- STALL ABBEY. Leeds bears a strong resemblance to Sheffield, and the person who visits both places will at once notice the fact. Some of the principal streets of the cloth city are clean, and as they are well paved with cubical blocks of stone, they present a better appear- ance than any of the thoroughfares of Sheffield. Both towns are situated on hills and surrounded by hills, or nearly so, and both abound in the suburbs in crooked, steep, and filthy streets. Over each there is a continual cloud of smoke, and the clearest day or brightest sun cannot dispel the blackness from the atmo- sphere. Here the comparison ends, and Leeds, probably, has the worst of it. There is a large number of courts, or, as they are locally termed, yards, in the town, and they are the hotbeds of misery and degradation. They are the slums of the place, and the residences of the poor, or the workshops or business-places of the small manufacturers of Leeds. They are generally entered through arched ways from the streets; and there are but few of the main thoroughfares, in what may bo considered the old part of the town, that do not contain more inhabitants in these obscure courts and alleys than live in the houses in front. The streets most deserving notice are Briggate, North Street, Commercial Street, and Wood-house Lane. The shops on the first named are quite imposing, and many of them are as taste- fully fitted up as those of Loudon. The town is situate on both banks of a stream about thirty yards wide, dignified by the name of river; but its black and filthy waters and narrow limits do not extort from the stranger admiration. The woollen manufacture of England is principally confined to Yorkshire, and Leeds is the centre of the business. There are OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 233 immense cloth establishments in the town, and large quantities of cassimeres, broadcloths, and kerseys are annually made and sold in it. The markets are held on Tuesdays and Saturdays, in buildings erected expressly for the purpose, and nearly all the sales take place in those concerns, and at the times named. The manufacturers or merchants assemble at a specified time, each behind a stand or counter on which are exposed samples of goods, and there the sales are effected. The prices of cloths are much lower than one would suppose. None of those manufactures that I saw exposed for sale exceeded in price twelve shillings per yard by the piece, and none of them were of an inferior quality of broadcloths. The stock is usually large and various, and the purchaser can obtain almost any amount or quality of woollens he desires. The town is a filthy one, and the constant cloud of black smoke which hovers over it gives almost everything an aspect of gloom. The houses are black, the stream that flows through the place black, and some of the inhabitants are only one shade lighter than very many negroes. At the dinner hour, the streets are to a certain extent thronged with the operatives of the factories, and their appearance is by no means favorable. The women are either bareheaded or barefooted, and the men are dressed in greasy clothes, or what may properly be termed rags. Their faces bear no marks of intellectual cultivation, and their language is a jargon scarcely intelligible, while their conversation is generally upon some species of brutal amusement. I occasionally went of an evening to a drinking concern where some of them assembled, and there was nothing to be seen there that impressed me with a favor- able opinion of their morals or education. Drinking ale and smoking tobacco in long pipes were their common evening amuse- ments, and when a little fuddled they indulged in most vulgar and obscene language. Gin-palaces and ale-houses absorb the greater portion of their leisure time, and there are but few of them who regularly attend the Mechanics' Institutes, or the lecture-rooms of the place. Some of them are able to read, but the number of such is small in proportion to the mass who cannot, and there is but little prospect of the rising generation being much superior to 20* 234 TUE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J the present in that particular. One of the principal causes which operate to degrade the laborers and mechanics of the manufactur- ing towns and districts is the common use of ale as a beverage, both among men and women. It is considered indispensable at the table, and a meal without it is not regarded complete. The habit of drinking grows with the individual from childhood, and as he in- creases in years he generally increases the quantity he consumes. As an evidence of the general use of the article, I may mention an incident that occurred to me when on my walk from York to Leeds. I was very thirsty, and stopped at a cottage door, where I asked for a glass of water. The woman looked at me a while, and told me she had no water on hand, but she would sell me a glass of beer, which I of course declined. She kept beer in the house, but no water, and that in the country, at a considerable distance from a city. The wages of the operatives at Leeds do not differ from those paid in other manufacturing towns, and when you ask the amount usually given to a person for a particular service, the answer is a few shillings more or less per week, but never over a dollar per day. Kents are high when the taxes are taken into the account, a very important item by the way, in the English tenant's yearly expenses, for the landlords rent their houses with the express un- derstanding that the renter is to pay the church-rates and taxes, which usually amount to an additional sum equal to one-half of the rent. Provisions are dearer than with us, newspapers are about ten times as expensive, and almost everything excepting the article of clothing is, at a fair calculation, twice as costly as the same things are in the United States, nor are they as a general rule superior to ours. The meats and some few fruits are better than the American, but the prices demanded are much higher than are paid in the States. How the poor live is a mystery, and the only rational conclusion that can be got at is that they do not live, but drag out a miserable existence, in a condition a little better than starvation, and sustain their spirits by the con- stant use of ale. To say that all the factory hands and operatives are ale-drinkers and ignoramuses would be unjust to a number of the class, who i ORj WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 235 are in reality the salt of the land, but unfortunately they are a small band, and cannot exercise sufficient influence over the larger class to effect a visible improvement in the mass of the present generation. The temperance cause wants more advocates among them, and those who will go out into the highways as missionaries in the cause. A practical advocate of temperance could do some- thing; not one who preaches total abstinence and practises ale- drinking, but one who acts up to his profession. In the days of Franklin, the English workmen drank beer, and all the efforts of that philosopher failed to effect a reformation among his shopmates; and it will take a man with all of Franklin's arguments and all his energy to destroy the fashion of drinking ale that prevails to this day among the English ; but it can be done, and it is to be hoped that the thing will be accomplished, at least partially, before the rising generation reaches the years of maturity. The Briggate, or principal street of the town, is lined on both sides to a considerable extent (of a Saturday evening) with booths and stalls for the sale of various articles of use and comfort. The market space, in a different section of the town, is the great resort, and there one can see English low life to perfection on a market night. The poor throng the place in search of such articles as they can afford to purchase, and they seldom buy more than a few pounds of meat and potatoes, or, perhaps, apples or pears, all of which are sold by weight in England. The space is an open square, occupied on market-day by such as obtain the privilege of a place. The collection is a motley one, and the observer can see, arranged around in carts, on stalls, or on the ground, quanti- ties of earthenware, hardware, potatoes, apples, peas, calicoes, hats, shoes, and trumpery of every description. Men, women, and children, dressed indifferently, crowd the alleys and keep up a constant Babel with their outrageous pronunciation. Punch and Judy shows, or something quite as intellectual and instructive, give va-iety to the medley 3 and a wandering German boy may be met in one section with his organ, playing, in no unmusical strains, the sweet and plaintive air of " 0! Susannah, don't you cry for me !" or the once cherished American song of " Carry me back to Old Virginny's shore !" It is strange to hear these 23 G THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; tunes of a Saturday night, in an English town, gushing from the pipes of an instrument manufactured on the lihine, and borne about by a fairhaired boy from Bavaria. I met such minstrels often in ray rambles, and travelled for miles with them along the secluded lanes and by-ways of Old England ; and let others say what they please against the itinerant organ, I ask to be allowed the indulgence of my taste in listening to the much abused and despised instrument, particularly when playing in my dreaming ear in a foreign clime the sweet airs of the land which is my birth- right. Through the friendship and influence of an American gentleman, resident in Leeds, I was enabled to visit one of the large woollen establishments of the town. The factory is distant a few miles from the city, and as every branch of the business of cloth-making, from the raw article to the perfect finish, is carried on in the con- cern, there was abundant opportunity afforded me for careful observation. The manner of manufacture and the machinery did not impress me as different from what we have in use; and, except the quality of the cloths and the extent of the place, there was nothing deserving particular mention. The manufactures con- sisted of cassimeres, broadcloths, and kerseys, of various qualities and styles, the principal portion of which was dyed in the piece. One of the workmen conducted me through the building, and as he was rather talkative, he ventured to make an advocate of free trade of me, and stated that our protective tariff was of little con- sequence, as it was systematically and successfully evaded by several extensive woollen houses in Leeds, the partners in which had their agents in the United States for the express purpose of smuggling. His statement may be true, and as he spoke confi- dently, he certainly believed it himself. In my endeavors to obtain statistical information respecting manufactures, and other matters of importance, I found groat dif- ficulty, and was often surprised at the small number of persons, even among those who might be presumed to know, who were able to give rac reliable information of the character I sought. StAtis- tics do not receive so much attention in England as in the United States, and it is only the few who take an interest in them. In OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 237 my endeavors to learn something of the number of woollen facto- ries in Leeds, I met with no encouragement whatever. The editors and publishers of newspapers knew nothing of the matter, and all looked astonished when I asked the question. It may be stated as a fact, without fear of contradiction, that there are not fifty persons in Leeds who can tell the exact number of woollen manu- factories in the town, although it is the centre of the cloth trade in Yorkshire, and contains more establishments in that line than any other town in England. Through the kindness, and com- mendable determination to serve me, of one of the clerks in a news- paper-office, I obtained a statement of the number of spindles and hands employed, and as it is an abridgment from a parliamentary report it is reliable. Other manufactures are named; but it is to the cloth business that I confine myself. There were in York- shire, in 1850, five hundred and thirty-two woollen factories for spinning only — the greatest number in any one place being in Leeds — with 629,838 spindles, and an aggregate horse-power, steam and water combined, of 7431; furnishing employment for 20,153 persons, of which number 5063 were females above thir- teen years, and 5819 boys, from thirteen to eighteen years of age, the balance being males above eighteen. Of weaving factories there were 180 in the county, employing 295,611 spindles, 3604 power-looms, and 14,002 hands, of whom 7000 were females. Of other woollen factories, not enumerated in the above, there were 159, employing 6128 persons, the number of spindles, &c., not being named. This does not include the worsted mills, which, although, strictly speaking, woollen manufactories, are arranged under another head. The number of yards of cloth annually ma- nufactured is not given, nor are the wages stated; but it appears that there has been an increase throughout the kingdom, since 1834, of 51 per cent, in the woollen and worsted factories, and an increase of hands employed of 116 per cent. The consump- tion of foreign and colonial wools, which form less than one-half of that consumed, has advanced 64 per cent, in the same period. From this statement, necessarily much abridged, it will be ob- served that the manufacture is extensive, and its increase astonish- 238 ing. The mills in Wales and the West of England are but few compared with those of Yorkshire. Leeds is not famous for any events in the history of England, and, with the exception of a ruined abbey a short distance from the town, has no monuments of antiquity. The old monastery is in the usual form of a cross, and although built of common and rough stone, it is massive and imposing. Like all similar struc- tures, it lies in a secluded valley, near a stream, and its great ex- tent, even in decay, tells plainly how important it was in bygone years. Cattle were quietly feeding within its walls when I was there, and my echoing tread scared a flock of rooks from their nests in the dark ruin, and caused them to wheel through the air, screaming and cawing above my head. Cattle and crows are the present occupants of the once holy abode of the abbot, the bishop, and the monk. How wonderful are thy changes, Time ! I CHAPTER XXV. HARROWGATE — KNARESBOROUGH EUGENE ARAISI — RIPON — FOUNTAIN ABBEY — BRIMHAM ROCKS — REFLECTIONS. I LOVE the deep, fadeless green of the English landscape, and glory in a ramble along the roads, when the sun is bright, and the native birds sing sweetly from the gay hedges. Others may fly through the island at railway speed; but give me the roads, the glorious roads of old England, for a ramble, and I'll enjoy the scenery and the attractions around, as none can enjoy them but the pedestrian. By rail, things are seen as we sec the passing beauties of a moving panorama, for a moment only; but the " view afoot" is far otherwise. You unroll the scene at your pleasure — you gaze on what interests you most, until your senses become intoxicated with the beauty of nature or the allurements of art, and feel that you arc really reaping advantages unknown 239 to those who move, mere birds of passage, over the country, aud not through it. The land may be uneven, but the roads are smooth and level, and so admirably constructed as to extort admiration from him •whose lot it is to ramble at will along them. It is worth an American's while to go to England, if for nothing but to see the splendid roads and soft verdure of the fields. There is scarcely a turnpike in the island that is not as smooth as a floor, and in many places I have seen men repairing them where it was impossible for me to discover a necessity for their doing so. When away from the towns, you are away from the smoke that envelops them, and live in an atmosphere healthful and pure. Nature and science enrich the landscape, the villages have an an- cient, indescribable air, and the rustic population is in strong con- trast with the refined and educated middle class of the realm. There is a want of independence in the English peasant, growing out of his admiration of wealth and titles, that degrades him, and makes him appear servile to an American. He is rude and ignorant, but neither impudent nor forward to those he considers his equals, in which respect he differs greatly from the Irish. He has some dignity of character even with his rudeness, and when made an equal by those whose circumstances are better than his, seldom assumes to himself that importance so readily put on by the Hibernian peasant when a superior person is dis- posed to be sociable with him. There is a wide difference between the two classes of peasantry, and I am ready to confess the En- glish infinitely the superior. On the road from Leeds to Harrowgate, there was opportunity afforded me to observe their way of living, but it did not differ from what I saw in other sections. It was the old story as to wages, and the same statement as to food. Many of them had never been ten miles from home, and either did not, or pretended not to know anything about the country. Some of them were able to tell how far it was to the next village, provided they lived within two or three miles of it, but it seldom occurred that I met one whose knowledge of the country extended beyond that dis- tance from where he resided. I several times asked how far I 240 THE FOOTPATH AND HIOnWAY; was from Ilarrowgato, when within eight miles of the place, and one said, " I doon't knaw !" another scratched his head and reckoned " it be five miles ;" while a third made it ten. There was an evident indiflference as to a knowledge of the country about them that surprised me, and an adherence to the customs of their fath- ers quite in character with their ignorance of the world outside of the villages in which they dwelt. Harrowgate is celebrated for its mineral springs, is a fashionable resort, and pleasant residence. The principal portion of it stands on an elevated plateau, which commands a splendid prospect of the country in every direction ; taking in, in clear weather, a dis- tant view of York Minster, and the dreary wolds of the East Riding of Yorkshire. The town is built principally around the outer edge of a circle, footpaths leading through the centre, but no roads. Hotels are numerous, and the visitor can be accommo- dated at a, cost of from four to twenty shillings per day, according to his propensity to be fashionable. The springs are highly com- mended by the medical profession for their mineral properties, and are usually well attended. They were discovered in the latter part of the sixteenth century by an English nobleman, whose estate inclosed them, after he had been running all over the Con- tinent to derive benefits from the most celebrated springs there. The story goes that he returned in a more feeble condition than he left, and was cured at last by the medicinal water which he had ignorantly neglected at his own door. The place is amply provided with lodging-houses, and comforts arc readily obtained. I was fortunate in procuring quarters with an old widow lady, whose father, she informed me, was an Ameri- can citizen, but not a very good one, I fear, as she cxultingly stated that ho was a spectator of the engagement between the Shannon and Chesapeake from Boston Harbor, and inwardly gloried when he saw the English frigate capture the American. I sarcastically intimated that her father, if an American citizen by adoption at the time, was what might be called a perjured man without fear of contradiction, and therefore no credit to her. She said but little more about him, but trcate extortioner the coin, and thought no more of the incident. But not so my companions. They did not think favor- ably of mo, because of my refusal to pay the demand at first, and by them I had been weighed and found wanting, as their looks clearly testified. We commenced our journey in silence, ascend- OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 305 ing tlie bold hill to the south of the city without exchanging a word. Taciturnity is characteristic of the English when among strangers, and a chilling coldness was preserved on this occasion for some miles. The first hour was dull, only a few venturing to exchange words, and those monosyllables. None addressed me until I entered into conversation with the driver, who was a thorough gentleman, and an intelligent, agreeable man. The road was hilly, but smooth and easy of travel, and as we were drawn along rapidly by our spirited animals, some romantic scenery met our view. I never met a more accomplished whip, nor one who managed horses so skilfully. He and I became ex- tremely sociable ; the company caught the feelings, and relaxed their sternness, exhibiting considerable surprise at what they were pleased to call my " remarkable knowledge" of the country. I knew we were traversing a part of the island through which the famous Roman Fosse lies, and asked the driver to point out that celebrated way, which he did. I could distinctly trace it for con- siderable distance ahead, and followed in its course for several miles, as it forms a part of the turnpike road between Bath and Wells at this period. It is much narrower than the m.odern high- ways of England, but solid, and bears evidence of the skilful and compact manner of its construction. Two thousand years have passed since the Roman conquerors laid it out, and it is a re- markable fact that, although it was located that many years ago, and at a time when the geography of the country was imper- fectly known, it is the direct route from Lincolnshire to the sea- coast of Devonshire. It is crossed by the Watling Street of the Romans near Bath, and both roads are public highways to this day. These are two of the many great works of a people who were all powerful in Britain, anterior to the English, and speak volumes for the antiquity of the country, as well as the intelli- gence of those who constructed the roads. We pursued our way pleasantly for the balance of the journey, and, although some of the company maintained silence, T enjoyed the discourse of the gentlemanly driver with feelings of entire satisfaction. No object of note on the route escaped his eye, and he pointed out to me, long before we reached them, the blue outline 26* 306 TUE FOOTPATH AND HIOnWAY j of the Metidip Hills, and afterwards, when we passed over them, directed my attention to the villages and coal-pits for which they are famous. The afternoon was delightful ; the trees clothed in autumn's livery, the fields shorn of grain, and a light hazy veil hanging softly over the earth. There was a dreamy influence in the atmosphere that affected all, and while the taciturn ruminated, the talkative expressed themselves in appropriate language without an eflfort; easy, calmly, and to the point. We passed several extensive coal-mines, and met numerous workmen ; the most of whom were grimy with the dust of bitu- men, and dull and besotted in appearance. Carts heavily laden with the black fuel, rolled by, drawn by half starved donkeys, some of which were not more than three feet high, wretched, shrivelled beasts, not fit to labor. The villages were anything but cheerful, and the colliers whom we met were in character with the uncomfortable aspect of the cottages. In all my rambles in England, and I was in nearly every county in it, the most ignorant and stultified people I met were those engaged in the collieries. The nature of their employment forbids the idea of their being elevated in soul, or refined in manners, and they plod through this earthly existence without an aspiration to be released from their eternal drudgery and debasing calling ; a calling of servitude compared with which the hardest labor required of the swarthy slave is play ; and then they receive a mere pittance for their toil in a sunless, underground cell, where the light of day never beams. Every county in England has its peculiarities. In Somereet- Bhiro, the farmers remove the bristles from the hogs by a quick fire of shavings or straw, and the hide of the porker is left black with smoke, and sometimes burnt to a cri.sp. It was the season for killing, and country people were taking bacon to market ia the condition in which it is left after undergoing the process described. Another custom, worthy of remark, is the way certain teamsters drag the wheels of their carts, to which two donkeys are attached, when descending a steep hill. When at the edge of the hill one of the animals is put to the rear of the van, and as it moves OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 307 down the poor brute braces himself on all-fours, and thus acts as a clog to the wheels and prevents a too rapid descent. The donkeys are well aware of what is required of them, and perform their duty with singular dexterity. We made a short stay at Shepton Mallett, a town famous for the part some of its inhabitants took in the rebellion of the elegant but unfortunate Duke of Monmouth. The main street is long, narrow, and compactly built — the houses are old-fashioned — the church large and weatherworn, and the market-cross, which stands in a space near the centre of the town, a fine specimen of that kind of edifice, being octagonal in form, with arches spring- ing from square pillars and a shaft rising above the roof. It is a fine structure, and the great centre of excitement on market- days. The famous Jefi'ries held a court at Shepton Mallett, while making his " bloody tour" of the west, and several of the parti- cipants in Monmouth's ill-contrived rebellion perished at the town-cross on the occasion of the legal murderer's visit, for their attachment to the cowardly duke. Our ride to Wells after leaving Shepton was the most agreeable part of the journey. The scenery between those places is unsur- passed by any it was my lot to behold in England. The road lay along the edge of a picturesque hill; the Mendip Hills on our right, before us the towers of the cathedral, and the quiet city; and away in the distance the commanding form of Tor Hill at Glastonbury, with the square tower of St. Michael's ruined Church on the very summit. The dim twilight of an autumnal day settled slowly down, and mellowed the outlines of the hills to a faint mark by the time we entered the little city. Our road lay along-side the old cathedral, and we soon dashed past it through one of the ancient gates into the main street and on to* our destined inn. I was directed to a comfortable hotel, and, as the weather was keen and chilly, found my way to the parlor, kicked my boots off before the fire, stirred the coals, and sat down as independent as a lord. A good supper was promptly served, and being joined by a gentleman who was a sociable companion, I passed the evening in pleasant conversation and agreeable quarters. 308 THE FOOTPATH AND niGHW AY ; The citj of Wells is clean, neat, and like a burnished gem when contrasted with the dingy towns of the north. Clear gurgling waters flow musically along its gutters, and the liquid is so pure and crystal that none would object to abate his thirst with it. The streets are clean; the market-cross chaste and graceful, there being a fountain of " living water" gushing ever from its secret well; and the market-square old and quaint — its sides being lined with houses in the Elizabethan style, whose projecting gables and oriel windows give an air of antiquity to the place. Two gates with buttresses and turrets stand at the eastern end of the inclosure, one of which conducts to the famous cathedral, the other to the bishop's palace. The residence of the present prelate is a modern structure of considerable beauty, within the ruins of the dwelling of the ecclesiastical functionaries of the Church of Rome. A battle- mented wall, gray with age and covered with ivy, incloses both the old and the new palace, around which is a moat about thirty feet wide, filled with clear, crystal, running water. Towers ornament the angles of the inclosure — and a stern old gateway flanked with projecting bastions, protected by a drawbridge raised by massive chains; and a formidable-looking portcullis within the arch speaks plainly to the modern visitor of the days of old, when pennons floated from the towers, and warrior-knights with armed attendants asked food and shelter of the dwellers within. Seven acres are inclosed by the walls, nearly all of which ground is laid out in gardens and gay parterres. The ruins are noble in their decay, curtained by the branches of trees and luxuriant ivy. A mound runs around the inner side of the extended wall, forming a magnificent promenade along the frowning battlements. The 'corner towers arc tastefully fitted up with seats, and the perennial, ruin-haunting vine clambers in gay festoons over the indented walla, forming rich curtains under which young lovers may sit and hear the waters in the moat gurgling and murmuring along from the holy well of St. Andrew's. The chapel is the greatest attraction of the modern palace, and really superb. A consider- able portion of the old edifice remains in partial ruin ; the main hall, in which the last abbot of Glastonbury was tried in 1540 for OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 309 resisting the king's authority, being the most entire. The victim of Henry's power was hung, drawn, and quartered on Tor Hill immediately after his conviction, and his terrible fate tinges with romance the hall alluded to. I noticed among the garden-trees specimens of the black wal- nut, silver maple, tulip-poplar, and rich magnolia of my native land, growing in close proximity to a thorn from Palestine, said to be a sprout from the staff of Joseph of Arimathea. The story goes that the apostle, on his arrival in England, rested with his followers the first night on a promontory near the southern coast of the island, which he called Weary-all-hill, into the soil of which he thrust his cane, which immediately took root, and continues to put forth blossoms ever since on Christmas day. The romance may please children, and, as the sprouts of the fabulous original still bloom in December, the idle tale may be believed by the devout and misguided; but the naturalist will smile at the story; and as the thorn of Palestine is a hardy plant, and the climate of Somerset is remarkably mild in winter, the blossoming is easily accounted for to the satisfaction of the unprejudiced and non- superstitious. The splendid cathedral of Wells is regarded by many architects as a work of surpassing elegance and beauty of finish, and is assuredly grand. The interior was restored in 1851, and no similar ancient edifice in England will compare favorably with it at present. Every corner and portion of the beautiful nave, choir, and lady-chapel is now as it was three hundred years ago, so far as appearance is concerned; and the clear stone, foliated capitals, splendid groining of the ceilings, clustered columns, tri- forium, decorated stalls of the prebendaries, and every other part of the interior are as rich and bright as if just from the stone- cutter's hand. I have seen many of the old cathedrals ; but of all, grand and imposing though they are, there is not one — not even that majestic monument of architectural elegance, York Minster — that has so much richness about it as Wells Cathedral. York is more impressive, more soaring, and awe-inspiring; while that of Wells is more ornate, more gorgeous, more elaborate. When standing at the west end of the nave, and looking east, the whole beauty of the magnificent interior bursts upon the delighted 810 THE FOOTPATH AND niJGHWAY ; gaze. The long perspective, the lofty roof, the bold triforium, the string courses. and rich moulding, the carvings and foliated ornaments, the groining and the bosses, the mellowed light that hallows the fane — all give the edifice an appearance of grandeur and solemnity seldom seen in similar structures. The columns are clustered, the capitals of various designs — there being birds, human faces, animals, and foliage among the ornaments of each bell, and the corbels which support the vaulting-shafts that sus- tain the nave. Under the central tower are buttresses in the form of inverted arches erected for the purpose of strengthening the massive pile, and akhough they mar, to a certain extent, the bold spring of the lofty curve, still they are beautiful and singular. The lady-chapel is sublimely ornamented and gorgeous in the ex- treme. The fretted roof is emblazoned with gold, scarlet, and azure ; the floor inlaid with encaustic tiles ; the windows glazed with glass of the most brilliant hue and color; and the vault sup- ported by clustered shafts and lancet arches. Stand where you may to gaze, the eye is feasted with grandeur, and the soul refined by beauty. Nor is the lady-chapel alone in its elegance. The choir is equally gorgeous, and the chapter-house is but little less sublime than its sister departments. A single, slender shaft springs from the centre, and spreads in the most delicate fan tracery at the roof, the ribbings of which radiate from the main column, and vault to the corresponding mouldings which rise from the side walls. The approach to this part of the cathedral is by a grand geometrical staircase, the angles of which please the be- holder. The crypt contains a few coffins of Norman knights, and several relics of the early bishops of Wells; and at the south side of the vestibule, is the shrine of a distinguished Catholic digni- tary of the olden time. The modern monuments are few, and those are in the main building, the cloisters being reserved for burial-places, a wise use of them, as they arc better adapted to the purpose than the nave or body of a cathedral in which service is performed. The finest piece of sculpture is in the chapel, near the choir. It is one of Chantrey's best works, and merits its posi- tion in one of the great temples of the past. I often stood, in admiration, before the splendid productions of the chisel which OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 311 adorn the shrines of England; and frequently, at such times, a drawling, simpering parson, who had received divinity into his form from the finger-ends of a bishop, commenced chanting, in dull, long-drawn strains, the service of the church; and while thus gazing, musing, and hearing, I thought what fool can be- lieve such dolts as he inspired, because a mortal, assuming holi- ness, has declared him so by the laying on of hands, and, at the same time, condemn the ancient Greeks, wondering why they con- sidered the splendid figures, from the hand of Phidias, the temples of Gods ! Who would not sooner believe the glorious form of the Apollo Belvidere the dwelling of a divinity, than the decaying body of a mortal ! Among the tombs in the cloisters, is that of the wife of Richard Brinsley Sheridan. It is placed in the east wall of the eastern avenue, and contains a long inscription to her memory. The reader will recollect that she was a Miss Linley, and an actress of some celebrity. From the record, I judge she was a native, or at least a resident of Wells, as the grave in which she rests is the same in which repose the remains of her mother and other rela- tives. There are several curious ornaments on the capitals of the col- umns, in the south transept, not the least amusing of which is a series of groups representing two boys stealing apples, their ar- rest by two men, condemnation by a magistrate, and punishment. On others are a woman with the toothache — a man whistling with might and main — a cobbler repairing shoes, and a boy extracting a thorn from his foot. It is these things, so admirably sculptured, and the sharp, foliated carvings and mouldings of the clustered columns, and other sections of Wells Cathedral, that make it so grand and imposing, now that it is thoroughly restored. There is a wonderful clock in the wall of the northern transept. It was made by a monk, at Glastonbury Abbey, in 1322, and removed to its present location at the dissolution of that monastery. It is a very ingenious piece of mechanism, formed of brass and iron — proclaims the hours, strikes the quarters, and gives the age of the moon. Above the dial-plate, in the transept (for there are two dials, one outside the building, and one in), is a platform, around 312 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; which figures of mounted knights dash at a furious rate when set in motion, with lances poised at each other. Their movements convey a tolerable idea of an ancient tournament. There is a male figure connected with the clock, which strikes a bell with its heels every fifteen minutes; while, on the external side of the same wall, and moved by the same machinery, are two mailed knights on foot, armed with swords and shields, who strike the fractions of the hour with their swords on each other's buckler. The ex- terior of the cathedral is quite as ornate as the interior; but its dingy color, and in some cases saintless niches, do not compare with the internal portions. The front buttresses are embellished with numerous figures of kings, knights in armor, saints, apostles, abbesses, and bishops, some of which are nine feet high, and tolerably perfect. The drapery is very fine, and exhibits great skill in the sculptor. The edifice stands in an open space, and is seen to the greatest advantage from the west, or from the adjacent hills, from which a fine panorama is presented. A visit to Glastonbury is considered a duty by the temporary sojourner at Wells, and as the distance is but six miles, I walked through the valley to the town and abbey of that name. The lands between the two places are low and swampy, but carefully drained and cultivated; large quantities of apples are raised, and considerable cider made. The rustic population speak a language diflFerent from that of the same class at the north, and although their pronunciation is not so broad, still it is almost as hard to comprehend. Glastonbury is small, but interesting to the Christ- ian if the traditions connected with it arc true. It is the reputed landing-place in Britain of one of the Saviour's apostles, Joseph of Arimathea, and the spot on which he planted the first Christian church founded in England, and whence the light of Christianity spread over the island. The ruins of the abbey are meagre, but there is sufficient left to impress the beholder with the extent of the building when entire. The nave is the most perfect part remaining, but time has dealt harshly with it, and only one side wall remains. The style of architecture is Norman, and the string courses, hood moulding of the doors and windows are in excellent preservation. Between the nave and choir are several OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 313 steps whicli mark the division of the two sections. There is a chapel named after the apostle, within the crypt of which is a well of pure water called holy. A thorn-tree grows in the yard or garden, and as it is a sprout from the staff of Joseph, it is pre- served with great care. The abbey was once the residence of St. Patrick, and tradition says that he was the presiding ofl&cer at one time. The old hostelries where pilgrims took up their abode when at Griastonbury still exist as taverns or inns, and the wine vaults and kitchens prove that the faithful had an eye to the comforts of the body as well as the salvation of the soul. The Church of St. Benedict is said to be the oldest place of Christian worship now in England, having been erected shortly after the founding of the abbey. It has undergone frequent repairs, and retains but little of its original form or the materials first used in its construction. The remains of St, Michael's Church, on the Tor Hill, are conspicuous for miles around. The tower of the building is bold and strong, and can be seen from nearly every part of Somersetshire in clear weather. The original church is repre- sented to have been founded by the apostle named, but the pre- sent structure bears evident marks of an architecture unknown before the twelfth century. The last abbot of Glastonbury and two monks were hung on the hill along-side of the sacred ruin in 1540, and their bodies drawn and quartered as a terror to others of the rosary and cowl. The head of the first named was placed on a pole in the tower, and his body hung in four equal parts on the walls of as many neighboring towns. The hill takes in a fine view extending westward to the sea, and northward to the Mendip range and the city of Wells. The gloomy field of Sedgemoor is in full view, and its dark surface is a fit pall for the dead who slumber in its bosom. The last actual battle on English ground was fought there, and there many a brave follower of the cowardly and courtly Duke of Monmouth found a grave. The land is intersected now by farms and roads, but it still retains some of the peculiarities from which it is not inaptly named. The principal towns in Somersetshire are noted for the trials held in them by the brutal Jeffries during his murderous judicial 27 314 THE FOOTPATH AND UIGHWAY ; tour following the defeat at Sedgeraoor. Wells was one of his places of sojourn, and a gentleman, resident in the city, pointed out to me the site of the court-house in which the wretch perpe- trated much of his villany, and, in the name of justice, com- mitted his atrocious outrages against the blindly infatuated dupes of the favorite son of Charles the Second. The older rustic families of the county cherish to this period a hatred for the name of the legal hero, and shower down on his crime-stained soul anathemas for the persecutions he waged against their unfortunate ancestors. A traveller finds much amusement at times in the mixed com- pany which congregates around the bright fire in the parlor of an English inn ; and no place is better calculated for observation of English character than one of those rooms when occupied by a fair amount of company. I spent a pleasant Saturday evening at Wells with the gentlemen assembled in the social hall of mine host, and among other subjects our conversation turned upon America. The portly, ruddy-faced islanders sipped their liquor with cheerfulness, and grew entertaining as the night advanced and the ale enlivened. Some of those present were anxious to know whether the servants in the United States really do eat at the same table and at the same time with their employers ? Is New York as large as London? How soon will you abolish slavery, and how do you manage without a state church ? Do the people speak English, and how do they get well without doc- tors when they live so far apart as many of them do at the west ? And then it was laughable to hear their opinions respecting our morals and iutelligenco. I chuckled at their nonsense and ignorance frequently. Some thought us as bad as the savages of the forest, and quite as rude and illiterate. Their ideas of the country were intimately connected with steamboat explosions, Bowie knives, and Colt's revolvers. They seemed to think that every man of us goes armed, and ready, on the instant, to commit murder. When 1 gave them some information respecting our largo cities, they looked unbelievingly at mc, and evidently doubted my words. I was a rara avts among them, and regarded with curiosity, for some of them never saw a live Yankee before OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 315 they saw me, and viewed the animal with wonder. I found them a gentlemanly set of men, however, and could not have passed my time more to my satisfaction than in their company. The room was filled with a cloud of smoke, and each person had either a glass of gin and hot water, or ale, and long pipe, supplied with adulterated tobacco. Each paid for what he drank, and none con- sidered it a mark of disrespect to a friend, or meanness in himself, to call for a pipe, or liquor, and not invite others to join him, it being the custom of the country for each individual to pay for his own drink. To me there was an appearance of sordidness in the habit of pushing out two or three pennies for a glass of gin far from creditable or worthy of imitation. And drinking hot water in their liquor did not strike me as in character with the English rule of avoiding mixed food ! But certain people are over-par- ticular in some things, and not particular enough in others, and John Bull is eminently so. He faints at the idea of eating fried ham, and yet swallows cheese and ale together before going to bed, and drinks sweetened gin and hot water with commendable national vanity, swearing by his troth there's naught so healthful. My companions of the evening were of different professions, including lawyers, commercial travellers, tradesmen, and farmers, most of whom were tolerably informed respecting their own county, but not so of other parts of England. The farmers — and when I speak of them I make no allusion whatever to the rustics, but confine myself entirely to what are known as gentlemen farmers, or renters of large tracts of land, which they cultivate by means of the peasantry — although gentlemen in dress, are the most ignorant, stupid set, who have pretensions to respectability and position, of any men I met in England; and of the many whom I came in contact with, there was but one who was a well-informed man, and he was originally a cutler at Shefiield. The balance were by no means refined. They were mostly hospitable, but not cultivated. 3 1 G THE FOOTPATH AND HIQHWAT ; CHAPTER XXXIV. FUN AND FOaS — SALISBURY AND ITS CATHEDRAL — A WALK TO STONEHENGE OVER SALISBURY PLAIN. Reader, have you ever been in an English fog? a real un- adulterated penetrator, that chills a man to the heart's core if he happens to be exposed to it for half an hour ? If jcu have not, then may you never be obliged to endure a ride of twenty- odd miles through one so dense as to prevent your seeing ten feet ahead of the four horses attached to the stage-coach. To look at the bleared sun through the misty veil, from a cheerful parlor "window, does very well, and you may derive an inward delight in trying to trace from such a point of sight the dim outline of the houses on the opposite side of the street, or the phantom-like figures of the almost invisible creatures who pass before you ; but to grope your way, or ride through, it is enduring, and not alone seeing. The walk is not so bad as the ride, for in that you navi- gate yourself, and roll along like a ship in a veil of mist at sea, and when a fellow-mortal heaves in sight, and you trace his out- line through the vapor, you shape your course to steer clear of him, and in nautical phrase " give him a wide berth." You see a gas-light occasionally to cheer you, its dull rays glimmering like a beacon on a dreary cliff to guide the lonely mariner, and if you choose you can come to anchor along-side a shop- window, or the door of a chop-house, where you can recruit your energies, make observations, get your latitude and longitude, and renew your journey with a prospect of completing it satisfactorily. But the ride is a different thing; muffled up on a stage-coach and en- veloped by fog, you soon become chilled and cheerless. You look at your neighbors, and see their hair and wlii>kers white with ac- cumulating frost ; each one is as cold and comfortless as yourself, and the keen air cuts 3'our face with its damp breath as you move OR, WANDERINGS Or AN AMERICAN. 317 through it. The houses are moving phantoms; there's no sky; no road ; no sun; no fence ; no houses; no fields; nothing but fog, thick and impenetrable. When you come to a hill, the driver tells you to hold on and not be alarmed, for the stage may escape being upset by a special Providence, but the chances are in favor of going over. You are going; but where to is the question. To upset? Yes, just as likely as not. But you escape that, and thump your feet on the footboard to get them warm, and put your blood in circulation, until you are tired ; and then you pro- bably will try to see the beauties of the charming country through which you are passing so agreeably. Yes ! magnificent landscape it is, too! All fog-banks; all so beautifully misty; so admirably obscured ; so dreamy ; so like Melville Island, Spitzbergen, or some other equally splendid northern land of fairies and fogs ! You enjoy it so, and, if blest with a happy imagination, you can build such airy castles, and have so much material to form them of, all ready to your mind. The cottages, the parks, the man- sions are all before you, and all totally beyond your vision, but still before you ; and decorate them to your own satisfaction, in such colors as your fancy may supply. But while you are thinking of these things, something goes wrong, and a reality surely enough rouses you to cold matter-of-fact things. What 's up now ? 0, only run into the fence ; soon all will be right. You don't like the idea of backing out while on the coach, and descend until the horses are extricated. They are speedily put into the road ; you mount again, and start, but do not get far on your journey before the driver " believes that the horses have been turned completely round, and we are going back again.'' Here's a pretty mess, indeed. Don't know where you are. The whip swears ; the pas- sengers don^t pray; but the stage does stand still, and what's to be done ? comes from every mouth. Go back and see whether the coach really was turned ; you can tell by the marks of the wheels in the road. Away goes the driver, and with him a pas- senger, to learn the truth. They soon return out of breath, de- clare we are wrong, turn the horses, and pursue the journey. After considerable trouble, a good deal of grumbling, and a tho- rough chilling, you at last reach your destination, fully satisfied 27* 318 with your ride in the fog, and pretty sure you won't readily forget it. My return trip from Wells to Bath was nearly as above described, and when I reached the city of warm springs, I was shaking like an ague patient. A good fire soon made me com- fortable, and I once more mounted on the top of a stage-coach, but not for Wells. The sun had by this time conquered the fog ; the landscape was gay, and my companions good fellows. There were five of us, with the driver ; and we were as merry a set of wanderers as ever sailed over the sea, or climbed a high hill. One was an Englishman, who had been in Russia ; another a Scottish gentleman, connected with the Oriental Steamship Company, who had been wrecked in the Indian Ocean, crossed the deserts of Arabia, stood on the pyramid of Cheops, and traversed the mighty Ganges ; the other had been in Rome and Venice ; and I could tell of the Mississippi, Niagara Falls, the great lakes, and the boundless prairies of the west. We made a glorious com- pany, and right merrily did the hours and miles go past together as we dashed over Salisbury Plain and on to the city of New Sarum. Our ride, after leaving Bath, was through a gi'catly diversified country, and along a most beautiful little valley, through which wound two canals and a small, transparent stream. As we pro- gressed further to the south, the country became level and chalky, chalk being the main geological feature of the famous Salisbury Plain. The villages on the route were small, but clean j and the town of Warminster, where we made an hour's stay, presented great activity and bustle. It was a fair day, and the market- space was filled with rustic humanity and Wiltshire cheese. The usual amusements attendant upon a country fair in England were to be found in the town, and every species of buffoonery was going forward, from Punchaud- Judy shows to negro sercnaders ; can- vas tents were numerous, and men stood at the entrance to each, proclaiming, in loud voices, the merits of the respective exhibi- tions. One establishment contained wax figures of the royal family, and the walking and talking advertisement was trying to persuade the public to go in and see " 'Er Majesty and the Prince of Wales, for sixpence." Another was an itinerant circus, and OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 819 the clown, with his deathly pallid face, stood on a raised platform outside the doors, pleading to the crowd to patronize the wonder- ful performances within. One was a theatre, one a menagerie, and one the dwelling of a seer, where " young ladies were shown the faces of their future husbands." Nor were these all. There were booths for the sale of every description of trumpery wares, and stands from which auctioneers were disposing of their goods. Two of the sons of the hammer amused me much. They both dealt in clothes, and as they were on opposite sides of the street, facing each other, they entertained the bystanders with a choice se- lection of doubtful compliments to themselves, and extravagant stories respecting the articles they had for sale. '^ Ere 's a splendid waistcoat ; cost me six shillings ; sell it for eighteen pence j fit for Prince Halbert's wear; let me show you how it will fit; made in the best style ; excellent goods ; I'll take one shilling — one shilling only; five goold buttons, and all for one shilling; buy it for a wedding-vest, young man — I know you'll marry that lass soon ;" and he turned his head towards a silly clown, near by, who was standing along-side a rosy-faced, coarse-looking country girl. The salesman threw his own coat and vest off, put on the one he had to sell, and talked like an exhorting parson. The fellow on the other side of the street was not one whit behind his antagonist, and they soon fell abusing each other roundly. " The buttons ts brass; don't buy that thing; 'ere's yer waistcoat, young man; this 'ere's yer wedding waistcoat ; only nine pence ;" and they almost frightened the clown out of his senses, with their appeals to buy. The maiden's face was like a full moon, and the poor girl did not know which way to look. Her " sweetheart" was dumfounded, and wondered how they found out he was about to be married. The mob laughed and shouted; the auctioneers abused each other more and more ; the rustics were ready to cry, and in the midst of the confusion, the band of one of the exhibi- tions — a drum, cymbal, and fife — broke forth with its thunders, and caused me to think " chaos had come again." My compa- nions and self roared with laughter at the scene ; and after look- ing at the mounds of cheese, the rosy-faced maidens, the motley crowd, and the old town, we ascended to our seats on the stage. 320 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; and pursued our way. The country now became level ; the earth was white, and flocks of sheep, attended by shepherds, cropped the scanty herbage of the plain. We stopped a few minutes at the town of Wilton, famous for its rich carpets, gorgeous church, and for being the seat of the Karls of Pembroke, where Sir Philip Sidney wrote his " Arcadia;" and as the sunlight faded out and the stars began to twinkle in the sky, we arrived at Salisbury, and passing its brave old cathedral, moved on to our hotel, where I parted with my pleasant companions, they going to Southampton, and I remaining in New Sarum. The stranger who visits cathedral towns must have his atten- tion occupied chiefly in the inspection of the noble edifices for which they are famous; and, as nearly all these buildings are grand and beautiful to behold, he finds in each and every one something to admire peculiar to itself. They are differently con- structed, differently ornamented, differently located, and however much frequent allusion to them may annoy the reader, the be- holder seldom tires of their many places of interest and splendor, aside from their architectural merits. They are mostly the burial- places of the distinguished and remarkable, and abound in monu- ments, ancient and modern, some of which are triumphs of art. It is quite probable that the cathedrals of England contain more masterpieces of the chisel than the public galleries of the land; and the student of sculptur^ will find in these noble structures the finest productions of Roubiliac, Chantrey, Bacon, Bailey, and others equally distinguished, and works of elegance and perfection unknown outside the transepts and aisles in which they are placed. Not only cathedrals, but vilhige and hamlet churches boast splendid statuary; and the marble figures in those places oftener contribute to elevate and refine the soul than the rounded periods and classic compositions of the clergymen who oflioiate in them. The cathe- dral of Salisbury contains some fine ancient monuments as well as modern, the most remarkable being those of knights and warriors, the greater number of which are in the nave. There arc figures of crusaders, in excellent preservation, among which is one to the memory of a warrior who fell in the Holy Land, and was buried at Acre ; and a highly ornamented altar-tomb of wood, I OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 321 supporting a stone effigy of the Earl of Shrewsbury, the son of Fair Rosamond and Henry the Second, who died in 1226 ; and in stern repose, on another tomb, in the same section of the build- ing, lies the full-length figure of an armed knight who was stand- ard-bearer at Bosworth field. There are two marble skeletons, over as many tombs, each of which was erected to the memory of a bishop, who, in endeavoring to fast forty days, in imitation of our Saviour, starved to death in the pious and laudable attempt ! The charnel aspect of the figures makes the gazers shudder with horror, and pity the fools who thus committed self-murder. There is a very highly ornamented monument in the lady-chapel to the Earl and Countess of Somerset. She was Lady Catharine, sister to Lady Jane Grey, and grand-niece to Henry the Eighth ; and to mark her rank, her tomb is raised several inches above that of her husband. Among the other monuments, is one to the "boy bishop" of the cathedral. In the days of the Catholic su- premacy in England, it was customary, in certain parts, for the boys connected with the cathedrals to elect one of their number bishop over themselves for the month, for which time the juvenile prelate wore the robes of office usual to the mature official; and if he died during his term, he was buried with all the ceremony usual on the occasion of the death of the real functionary. It seldom occurred that one of the cloister bishops died in office, but when such a thing did take place, the deceased was honored with a tomb of considerable elegance in the nave or aisles of the edifice. The one in Salisbury Cathedral is the most perfect of the kind in the country, and the boyish face and figure of the effigy in its long robes have a solemn appearance to the beholder. The verger and myself wandered among the tombs, and through the long perspec- tive aisles of the magnificent fane, he pointing out the objects most worthy of note, and I admiring that which was important and grand. In the south transept are several banners, from the Punjaub wars, waving over a monument erected by the "surviv- ing officers of the 62d regiment of Wiltshire Springers, to the memory of their companions in arms who fell in the Sikh war," and a singular memento to the services of a lieutenant who was killed at Moodkee in 1845. 322 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; The cathedral is built entirely in one style of Gothic architec- ture, that of the thirteenth century; and its uniformity, both of proportions and style, renders it an exception to other English edi- fices of the same character. The whole aspect of the structure is grand, and, as a perfect work in one species of Gothic, is without a rival. It has double transepts, to the east of each of which is a side aisle; and the nave, transept, and choir rise into an elevation of three tiers. The columns of the nave are clustered, each com- posed of four pillars, with as many slender shafts. There is a clere-story, consisting of triple windows, of the lancet shape ; and the gallery, or second tier, which is the roof of the aisles, has pointed arches, ornamented alternately with quarter-foils and eight- leaved carved rosettes. The interior, although fine and imposing, is not either solemn or gorgeous; nor does it inspire one with awe or veneration. Its want of elaborate ornament causes it to be ad- mired for its simple grandeur and uniformity, like the chaste and plain temples of Greece. The harmony of its proportions, and consistency of architecture, have won for it the name of the " Queen of English Cathedrals ;" and, as a specimen of one style thoroughly carried out, it deserves the appellation, but when com- pared with York or Wells for sublimity and elaborate ornament, it suffers greatly by the comparison. The exterior is grand when viewed from a particular point of sight in the cloisters; and its many graceful angles and harmonious geometrical lines, its tall and cutting spire, and its immense form, receive the admiration of the beholder. The structure is surrounded by a large inclosure, or close, planted with trees, and laid out in convenient walks and beautiful grass-plots. The spire is four hundred and eight feet high, having a greater altitude, by four feet, than the dome of St. Paul's, and is as sharp as an arrow, but, unfortunately, out of per- pendicular. The variation is twenty-four and a half inches soutb, and sixteen and a half west ; but, as no change has taken place in its position for two hundred years, there is every reason to believe that the settling has been perniunently arrested. A stone, placed in the floor immediately under the spire, marks its deviation from perpendicular, and was put in its present position by Sir Christo- pher Wren, when ho ascertained, by actual measurement, the OR, WANDERINGS Or AN AMERICAN. 323 variation of the structure. Observations subsequent to liis have been made, and at each it was satisfactorily learned that the spire maintains its position. The city of Salisbury is near one or two of the small streams, the waters of which are conducted through the town by means of sluices, and the purling liquid runs ceaselessly along the gut- ters of the principal streets. The buildings are mostly old, and not of much importance. The school in which Addison was educated is shown to the curious, but beyond the fact of its being his Alma Mater, it is without interest. Near Salisbury are the remains of the British city of Old Sarum, and several ancient Roman highways, besides the more modern ruins of Clarendon Palace. The mounds of Old Sarum are remarkable for their extent and antiquity, and although com- posed of chalkstone, and overgrown with grass, they are very high and strong to this day. Twenty-one acres are contained within the inner mound now remaining, and the fortifications are a mile around. At this period, not a vestige of its buildings is to be seen, and sheep, attended by shepherds as stolid as the clods upon which they tread, are the only inhabitants of the once royal city of Old Sarum. I procured an aged peasant for my guide, and visited the immense mounds, and now dry moats, and the site of its castle, and main edifices. The dwellings, like their occupants, have resolved into dust, and left no trace of their individual being. The page of history records some early traditions of the place, and the researches of the antiquary have revealed some few facts connected with the extent and importance of the ancient city, but they are mystified and obscured, and the dull, stupid shepherd is as likely to render positive information to the tourist of the place as the historian or antiquarian — each being quite as well informed as the other, though differing in the quality and kind of their knowledge. The celebrated monument of antiquity, Stonehenge, is about nine miles from Salisbury, in the direction, but considerably north of Old Sarum, and when at the place last named, I determined to walk to the famous Druidical Temple. I was directed across the dreary downs, and pushed my way for a considerable distance. 324 When thinking I had gained the vicinity of the object for which I sought, I made inquiry, and was coolly informed that I had been misdirected, and was several miles out of my way. I di- verged from the regular highway, and ascended the hills before me in the face of a stiff breeze, which bore upon its wings a drizzling rain ; and after a toilsome march, attained the summit, where I paused to survey the surrounding country; and the dreary wolds upon which I stood presented a scene of almost utter desolation. To the south, the bold form of Old Sarum and the sharp spire of Salisbury Cathedral burst upon my sight, and relieved the monotony of the prospect in that direction, while to the north stretched away the chalky downs with scarcely more than a dozen trees visible, and but a single house to cheer the eye. I heard human voices somewhere near me, but the rolling hills hid the speakers, and, after making a little search, I came up to a plough- man and a shepherd boy. I inquired for Stonehenge, and being directed to the spot, looked far to the north, and there, beyond a clump of trees, in the misty and shadowy distance, I traced the form of the renowned temple. The rain increased ; the object of my visit was full four miles off by the shortest route j the land was, with but little exception, ploughed up, and the only animate objects visible were a few droves of sheep feeding on the distant plain, and the shepherds in attendance. I was assured that there were no " man-traps nor spring-guns" in the way, and that I would not be trespassing if I pursued a straight course to the circle across the farms, and it did not take me long to decide what to do. Here I stood within sight of the famous temple ; I had come thousands of miles to see it ; and, though the rain was driving fast against me, it would bo foolishness to retrace my steps without gaining my point. — There is too much of the go-ahead spirit in me to be daunted by rain, and, buttoning my overcoat, and fixing my eye on some landmarks before me, I pushed on. For two miles there was nothing particularly attractive, and as the land over which I was passing was undulating, my view, for the distance mentioned, was circumscribed. At last I gained the elevated and level plain — level, compared with what I had so recently been on — and mot several shepherds, but they were a 325 harmless, idle set — boorish in manners and stupidly ignorant. Each one was attended by a dog such as I have frequently seen in other sections of the country, and the faithful animal was in every case an object of greater interest to me than the shepherd. The man was dull and stupid — the dog intelligent and active ; the dog could do without the man, but I could not see that the man could get along without the dog. As I advanced towards my destination, I observed some mounds of earth so strongly resem- bling the tumuli of the Western States of America, that the similarity struck me as wonderful. The nearer I approached Stonehenge, the more numerous they became, and I began to reflect that too much attention had been bestowed by antiquaries upon the circle to the neglect of the other objects of interest around. May not these mounds be monuments of a people an- terior to the Druids of Stonehenge? And is not their resem- blance to the tumuli of the Western World evidence of the existence of a race of men, now extinct, who were contemporaneous in both hemispheres? These questions are not for me to answer, but the fact of human bones having been found in some of the mounds into which excavations have been made proves a resem- blance in more than one particular. I neared the temple rapidly, and soon stood within its shadow. The rain had greatly abated, and the high wind bore along a thick mist, much more agreeable than a drenching storm. The ponderous rocks afforded me protection from the blasts, and I sat down in solitude upon one of the fallen masses before surveying the mysterious circle — an erection that none have ever satisfac- torily accounted for, and about which antiquaries differ. The stones of which it is built are ninety-four in number, and of enormous size; some stand erect, and transverse blocks rest on the tops ; others are strewn over the ground in confusion, but the line of the circle is distinctly marked. There they are — those stupendous recks — miles away on a dreary plain, where the largest native stone to be found will not exceed two pounds in weight ; and then it is of chalk formation, while the great masses differ from it in every geological feature. They are solid, and have stood, unworn, facing the storms of centuries. Those I measured 28 826 are full twenty feet high, and one of them is seven feet wide and three feet eight inches thick. They were evidently carried to their present position by some powerful machinery, for it is barely possible that rocks weighing seventy tons each could have been transported for miles by the mere physical force of man, and the Druids are not known to have used any other power. What are they, and who placed them in their present situation? are ques- tions to which no satisfactory answers have ever been given, and there is but little reason to suppose that any persons will yet be able to account positively and accurately for them. They were, no doubt, at one period, a Druidical temple ; but that the Druids placed them where they now stand is altogether problematical. That class of men availed themselves of natural and artificial creations adapted to their purposes, and the fact that the altars of the sect in Wales were, for the greater part, mere flat stones prostrate upon the earth, is proof that they went to but little labor to build their shrines, even in countries where rocks were large and abundant; while the temple of Stonehenge owes its origin to great physical and mechanical exertion, and must have cost years in its construction. Located in the centre of a sterile, desolate plain, many miles from large quarries or deposits of stone, and in a country the geological formation of which is so diflFerent from the rocks of which it is built, the very existence of the circle in that spot proves what power was required to place it there ; and as the Druids were never guilty of performing any hard labor, it is no more than justice to acquit them of the charge of having erected the temple of Stonehenge. If they were the authors of it, they also raised the mounds before alluded to; but as no similar tumuli are to be found in the vicinity of acknow- ledged Druidical temples, there is a further proof that Stone- henge is the work of a people anterior to the ancient Britons and murderous Druids. It stands alone in the centre of what was once a solitary waste, and what is but little else now, although the labor of centuries has been expended in its cultivation. A scanty herbage is produced for shccp-fcediug, but the soil is not more than an inch deep, and the farmer is oft^n repaid for his trouble of ploughing, by an abundant crop of chalk stones, so OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 327 numerous as nearly to cover the earth's surface over which his rule extends. I returned to Salisbury, as I went, on foot, but, instead of keeping the road, I struck a bee-line for the city over the downs, and in the walk of eight miles but a solitary house cheered the way. No trees — no crops — nothing but the leaden sky and the chalky earth — the scattered flocks and the lonely shepherds. It is true there were villages in the far distance, and on the edge of the waste; but the plain was lifeless, treeless, houseless, herbless, save the few objects alluded to above. I struck into a turnpike-road, when near Old Sarum, and stopped for dinner at a village inn. Mine host was a sociable man, his wife a tidy, bustling woman; and between them, they soon pre- pared me a meal to which I did justice, for my appetite was sharpened by the walk and humid atmosphere. Some few of the shepherds whom I met on the southern borders of the downs managed to open their mouths when I spoke, and from them I gleaned something of their mode of life. Their wages vary from sixpence to a shilling per day, out of which sum they must ^nd themselves; and for that pittance they are exposed to all weathers, and are frequently compelled to ^' tend their flocks by night'' as well as by day. What little I saw of them did not im- press me favorably with their social condition or intelligence, but did much to remove the romance I have always invested them with since reading in my Sunday School days the story of the Shepherd of Salisbury Plain. Campbell somewhere says : — ♦' When Science from Creation's face Encliantment's veil withdraws, What lovely visions yield their place To cold material laws!" And the sentiment applies to other things not scientific; for how much do those objects suffer from contact with us, that our imaginations have invested with a charm — things which we have viewed with our mental eyes, at a distance, through the medium of written descriptions, but which on inspection become cold matter- of-fact affairs — without poetry, without beauty. The realm of fancy is invaded when our desire to see what we regard so beau- 328 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J tiful is fulfilled; and when we do behold it, lo! it too often turns to dust; and for our pains we lose the dreams of the beautiful which have been our loves for years. This coming into contact with things real and historical, things which our minds have in- vested with a halo of glory, is a sad end to many a splendid vision, and destroys the happiness of many a mind. The being finds he has been cheated, and cries, in the bitterness of his dis- appointment — " How vain the wish that sighs for sublunary things!" The sun was low in the heavens when I reached my hotel in Salisbury, and there was but little time allowed me for observation. The city is level and clean. The principal streets cross each other at right angles. There are some fine stores, several places of amusement, and a rich assortment of churches. Like all the large towns of the kingdom, it is well lighted with gas, has an efl5cient police, and an extensive market. Railways connect it with Southampton, AVinchester, and London, and its trade is con- siderable. CHAPTER XXXV. WINCHESTER, AND ITS ATTRACTIONS — ST. CROSS HOSPITAL — KING Arthur's round table, etc. My entrance into the ancient capital of the realm was at a late hour of the night, and I followed along, not exactly knowing where I was going until I gained the main street of the city. The thoroughfare was comparatively deserted, and I sought out a place of rest. No one knew me, and I knew not a soul in the town, and sauntered along as independent as an Indian chief. A comfortable inn invited a visit, and I entered its doors for the purpose of obtaining lodgings, but on application was refused. The landlady looked at me from head to foot with a suspicious eye, and then at her husband, who surveyed me in like manner, OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 329 and, after the cautious pair had fully satisfied themselves, they gruffly told me they had no room — and a lie ! I did not stand to plead, but returned to the street and sought further, and with success. A servant took my knapsack, and ushered me into a parlor, where a bright fire blazed cheerfully. I sat down in an arm-chair, drew ofi" my boots before the grate, ordered supper, read "The Times,'' and didn't care a button for anyone connected with the Dolphin, over the way — the shanty in which I was re- fused a bed — and that the first time in my life. The cities of the south of England differ so greatly from those of the north, that the traveller is led to believe that they don't belong to the same realm. There are no large manufactories and smoky atmosphere, but, what is infinitely better to view, clean streets, brave old cathedrals, and quaint buildings of the ancient day. The streams near by are mostly pure crystal currents, and the air above is uncontaminated — unpolluted. Winchester is the oldest city in the land, and was the home of royalty before London. Its origin is involved in obscurity, but tradition and the historical monuments of the nation represent it as one of the earliest settlements of the first known inhabitants of the island. It is the burial-place of Alfred the Great, Canute the Dane, and the tyrant William Rufus. It has been the royal residence of a long line of England's kings, and the scene of many historical events of importance. In its palmy days, it was the seat of govern- ment, and contained the Royal Mint, Treasury, and office of pub- lic records. A few remains of a castle, built by William the Conqueror, are still in existence, and portions of the city walls, erected anterior to the days of King Stephen for purposes of de- fence, are in fine preservation. The great massacre of all the Danes settled in England commenced at AVinchester, and Sir Walter Raleigh, and Lords Coleham and Grey were tried in it for high treason in the days of James the First. Jeffries there condemned to the block the amiable Alice Lisle, when on his bloody tour following the suppression of Monmouth's rebellion, and she died on a scaffold in the market-place of the city. It wit- nessed the coronation of William Rufus, and the second crowning of Richard Coour dc Lion, after his return from his romantic ad- 28* 330 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J ventures in the crusades. There Henry the Fourth wedded Joan of Brittany, and it was in the cathedral of the city that the mar- riage between Mary of England and Philip of Spain was celebrated. During the civil wars, it was the scene of battle and siege, having been taken and retaken three several times, twice by the Parlia- mentary, and once by the lloyal troops. In the last engagement, Cromwell blew up the castle, battered the fortifications to pieces, and destroyed the bishop's palace, besides stabling his horses in the cathedral, and allowing his soldiers to deface the monuments, and otherwise injure the edifice. Charles the Second commenced a palace in it in 1682, but it never was completed, and is now used AS a barracks ; and Hichard Cromwell, after resigning the Protectorate, passed the balance of his days in retirement, at the old manor-house of Mardon, at Hursley, in the immediate vicinity of the city. These are some of the historical records of Winchester, and if this were the place for it, I might recount other incidents of equal importance which transpired in the once royal, but now decayed and fallen capital of England. When I pored over the pages of English history in a remote village of Pennsylvania, and read with breathless interest the events so graphically described by the historian, I scarcely be- lieved it possible that I should ever stand in the places made famous by the occurrences of time and the pen of the chronicler, and hence, when I enter an ancient city, whose name is connected with never-to-be-forgotten events, I move along its streets as if in a consecrated place, and with feelings akin to veneration. The old and crooked streets, the renowned buildings, and the ancient aspect of Winchester are well adapted to recall to the mind of the student of English history feelings such as I have referred to. Its Gothic market-cross is preserved with pious care, and its cathedral and college are shown with pride. The city is small, but attractive, and the little stream that flows by it is a deep, transparent rill, clear as a burnished mirror. Some of the houses on tlic main street are built immediately on the curb, but the first story in each of these is a part of an arcade or passage-way for pedestrians, and the whole combined form an OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 331 agreeable covered promenade for some distance, with shops facing the walk. My day of observation succeeded to a night of rain, and the clear air and bright sun made things more than usually beautiful. The streets were clean, the shops showy and fine, the people act- ive, and the sparrows doubly tame and sociable. I wended my way to the cathedral through a paved court entrance, and soon reached the green inclosure or grounds around the edifice. The building is very large, in the usual form of a cross, with a tower rising from the transepts and choir. The exterior, particularly the western end, is richly embellished with carvings and niches, ar- cades, and splendid windows. The buttresses are fine ornaments to the structure, and as each of them is surmounted by pinnacles terminated by finials, richly foliated, they have a pleasing effect to the eye. The great western window is divided by transoms and mullions, which give it a superb appearance, in connection with the smaller ones at the side, the great arched doors, and the mouldings on the other sections of the front. The interior of the nave is sublime, and the eye shoots along the lofty vault, fretted with exquisite tracery, and rests in admiration on the glowing colors of the eastern window. The extent of this portion of the gorgeous shrine is three hundred feet, and its vaulted ceiling eighty feet high. Imagine to yourself its grandeur from these dimensions, and reflect that the choir and lady-chapel add one hundred and eighty feet more to the view. Probably the great fault of Winchester cathedral is, its want of architectural uni- formity — a fault belonging more or less to nearly every similar edifice in England. There are grand specimens of Norman, English, and pointed Gothic ; and the student of the art will find in this building the perfection of each of these styles. The fact that the edifice was four hundred years in course of erection suf- ficiently accounts for the variety of its architecture; but it is to be regretted that it was not completed as it was begun, in the purest Norman. The tower is too low — too squatty, if such an expres- sion may be allowed. The transepts are lofty and grand, and the whole interior masterly. The tombs are numerous, and that of the celebrated Wykenhara the best preserved ecclesiastical monument 332 THE FOOTPATII AND HIGHWAY J of the olden time in the country. The figure of the bishop re- poses at full length on the richly carved tomb, and it is in such a state of preservation that one would suppose it a modern instead of an ancient work. There is a bronze statue of Charles the First on one side of the entrance to the choir from the nave, and one of James the First on the opposite side ; and both are fair specimens of the art, and must have been chpf-d* oeuvres when executed. The interior of the choir is glorious, and with its stained glass windows, its decorated ceiling, and carved stalls, leaves a lasting impression on the mind of the beholder. West's grand picture of the " Raising of Lazarus" ornaments the altar-screen at the chancel-end of the choir, but the tone of its coloring, though better than that of the majority of the artist's works, is not so mellow as could be desired. It is so placed as to obscure a great portion of the screen, the delicacy of which is marvellous, and a study for the sculptor of this age. Two elegant stone partitions, one on either side, divide the choir from the side aisles, and on the tops of these are ranged, in regular order, six mortuary chests containing human bones. They bear Latin inscriptions, setting forth that within are deposited the skeletons of various kings of England, from the year 641 to 1100. One of these chests, the third, contains the bones, in part, of Canute, the Danish king, his queen Emma, the Fair Maid of Normandy, and William llufus — a strange commingling, surely, of the ashes of the royal. In addition to these, may be mentioned the remains of two Saxon prelates, Wina and Stigand ; and the inscription states that they were deposited in their present resting- place in IGGl, "having been exhumed and scattered about by sacrilegious barbarians in the year 1042," which is another sin for poor old Noll's broad shoulders. I was conducted through the building by an officer who pointed out the tomb of William llufus, and llichard, the second son of William the Conqueror ; and the chair which Queen Mary occupied at the time the mar- riage ceremony was performed between her and Philip of Spain. They were married in the lady-chapel, and the chair is in that department. There are several fine figures of crusaders in tho chancel and aisles, and a splendid statue of Bishop North, by OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 333 Chantrej. The verger left me for a time to myself, and as I loitered about the aisles and chapels alone, I devoted my attention to such objects as most interested me, in an architectural or histo- rical light. The Norman arches and doors of the lower stories impressed me with their solemn grandeur — and the elegance of the upper work contrasted strongly with the heavier parts below. There are several small chapels connected with the principal build- ing by vaulted passages, and in one of these, called Prior Silk- stede's Chapel, I stepped upon a stone fitted in the floor, which contained an inscription, and, on reading, found it to be the tomb of that prince of anglers, " honest Isaac AYalton !" There he sleeps in that lonely cell of the great cathedral, and not far off gurgle the waters of the meandering Itchen, in whose depths he so oft dipped his treacherous bait. The rays of the sun struggle through the misty glass of the solemn Norman windows, and fall wavingly on the black marble on which the curious may read as follows : — Here resteth the body of Mr. Isaac Walton, who died the Fifteenth of December, 1683. Alas ! he's gone before, Gone to return no more ; Our parting breasts aspire After their aged sire. Whose well-spent life did last Full ninety years and past ; But now he has begun That which will ne'er be done ; Crowned with eternal bliss. We wish our souls with his. And in Latin : " Thus, modest hours his children wept." The lines are dull enough, and quite as effective as a dose of opium for purposes of sleep, and do not speak much in favor of the poeti- cal talent of their author, whoever he was. ^ One of the old charities of the land is still sustained at the Hospital and Church of St. Cross, about a mile from Winchester, on the banks of the Itchen. Thirteen aged men live there in 334 THE FOOTPATH AND highway; houses provided for them, and pass their days in repose. They are clothed in a long-forgotten costume, and have the appearance of the ghosts of men who died in the twelfth century. It is a peaceful home for those weather-worn old men, that Hospital of St. Cross, and they enjoy its charities in quiet and seclusion. The custom of giving away to any who may apply for it a mug of beer and crust of bread is still adhered to. The porter's lodge is in the great arched gateway, and on knocking at the door of the attendant's residence, and demanding the gift, you are at once supplied. Many persons of respectability go and receive the beer and crust through mere curiosity, and to continue the ancient custom. When I was there, several Irishmen were sitting on the bench at the porter's gate, waiting for the bounty of the place. I continued my walk around the city, visiting the most famous places, and among others the barracks, once the palace of Charles the Second. A regiment of red coats was on parade, and every man moved with the precision of a piece of senseless machinery. The officers were a set of whiskered dandies, and the soldiers wooden men. I loft the brave warriors of her Majesty, and pass- ing through the west gate, the most entire of the ancient city fortifications, approached the old castle. What remains of the fortress has been converted into a portion of the walls of the modern Court-House, and therefore does not show to advantage. The grand room contains a relic of the past — famous the wide world over — the Round Table of King Arthur and his knights. It is suspended on the eastern wall, and, to prevent it from fulling to pieces, has an iron band securely placed around the outer edge. I had no means of measuring it, but should judge it to be full fifteen feet in diameter. The top is divided off into regular and equal portions, which are painted alternately white and green, beaded with red lines. The name of each knight and baron is in the arch of the division allotted to him, and the portrait of the king is conspicuously painted on one of the sections. The table bears an iiy^ription, in addition to the names of the knights, and is perforatea with bullets, said to have been fired through it by Oliver Cromwell's soldiers, when in Winchester. The old relic calls to the mind of the gazer the throng of twenty-four mailed OR; WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 335 barons who were wont to gather round it in the days of chivalry, and there " Drink the red -wine tliro' the helmet barred." Each one had a space sufficiently large for his goblet of grape- juice and flagon of bright Burgundy, and many a loud laugh and piquant jest has circulated round that famous board in the days of old when the luscious beverage was at work in the brains of the warriors there asvsembled. It looks as if designed for wassail and revelry, and right well do they who preserve it in iron bands as it now is. In my rambles about the city, I noticed the condition of the lower order of people, but as it varies but little from that of the same class in any of the other southern cities, there is but little worth recording here. While sitting in the coffee-room of my inn, I entered into conversation with a workingman, who readily communicated such information respecting the city as I desired. He possessed a strong intellect, good conversational powers, and a friendly spirit. Wherever I met with intelligent workingmen in England, and there are many such, I always found liberal sentiments and kindly treatment, and a knowledge of history and politics truly astonishing, when it is considered that such know- ledge was acquired by hard study after a long day's labor. Such are the thinking men of England, and their numbers are daily increasing with their stock of knowledge, and if they continue to increase throughout the country for the next ten years, as fast as they have done in the ten just past, they will, ere long, seal the fate of royalty in the realm of Great Britain, and sweep into the vortex of the past every kingly claim. They think — they reason — they act; and, however much they may be sneered at and con- temned, ridiculed, vilified, and abused, they still press on in the path of justice and popular rights, unmindful of the titled drones who suck their life's blood, and yet laugh them to scorn ; and are sowing the seeds now of a revolution which must eventually tell with terrible force against the aristocracy of the country, and fix its doom. They are not very numerous comparatively, but they are not idlers, and act with a firm conviction of being the soldiers 336 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY ; of a righteous cause, and neither falter nor halt in their manly course. What they sow takes root, and the fruits of their labor will be felt and seen among the young of their class of the rising generation. Kingcraft is sealed in England, and these men are silently, noiselessly, slowly, but surely, working out the truth, and will develop it to the world in its own proper time. It will be a bloodless revolution — a revolution of mind over exploded theories — of intelligence and justice over tyranny, hypocrisy, and wrong — of the too long downtrodden and spurned many over the legal- ized, aristocratic, supercilious, and arrogant few. CHAPTER XXXVI. RETURN TO LONDON — RAMBLES — OLD PLACES — FALLEN WOMEN. From Winchester to the metropolis I met with but little of note, and as the route lay over a country both level and unin- teresting there was nothing worthy of particular attention. When I arrived at the Waterloo station, on the Surrey side of the Thames, things were different from what they were during the continuance of the Exhibition. The trains were less crowded, the cabs more idle, and the landing less thronged than when I last visited the place. Then foreigners with mustaches crowded the approaches, and one's ears were saluted by a confusion of tongues, strange and incomprehensible. Frenchmen, Belgians, Germans, and Spaniards were there preparing for their return to the Con- tinent, and busy porters and interpreters were directing the strangers to the carriages which were to convey them away. Now there were none but natives present, and they were cold and re- served in manner. I escaped from the mass that emerged from the cars and filled the platform, and gained the open street as soon as circumstances would permit. The streets were not thronged with pedestrians, as in the zenith of the Exhibition en- thusiasm, and the omnibus proprietors had relaxed their ava- OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 337 riciousness by reducing the fares from sixpence to one-half that sum. Seven weeks had worked wonders in the great city, but no great change in my friendly landlord, for, when I knocked at his door, I was welcomed with unfeigned delight by himself and family, and felt that I was really at home. It was a sincere out- pouring of true, honest friendship, that cordial greeting, and such a one as comes with joy to the heart of a stranger in a foreign land. The man who has a penchant for the old and remarkable finds sufficient to occupy his time and attention when in London. There is abundant to admire, and much to record. I amused myself in various ways when strolling about the city; but my greatest gratification was derived from visiting such places as are celebrated by their connection with the famous men and remarkable events of the olden time. I hunted out the " Devil Tavern" and the ^'Grecian;" but there is not a feature of their ancient glory remaining. The people who resort to them are clothed in the habit of our day, and you look in vain for the strange costume of the time of Queen Anne. At night, these houses ap- pear more sacred than during the day, for it was at night that they were fullest of company in their days of glory, and it is then that they are most crowded now. The vicinity of Temple Bar, and thence up the Strand, was a favorite resort ; but I sometimes varied my walk and rambled into the eastern part of the city, as far as Tower Hill and the Docks. St. Dunstan's Church, in the east, has often attracted me; and not only its strange steeple, but its architectural beauties repaid me for my trouble. The old houses on the narrow, crooked, and steep streets, and the busy, maritime, mercantile-looking people there- about during the day, have so much of the air of the past about them that I took more pleasure in visiting them than any other objects in London, because the inhabitants are more in character with the buildings they inhabit than the dwellers in Cheapside and Fleet Street are with those renowned sections. Tower Hill de- tained me frequently, and I looked over it with strange feelings, on to the prisons of many whose names are household words in America — Lady Jane Grey's, Anne Boleyn's, and Sir Thomas 29 338 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; More's. Then there is Trinity House, and the birthplace of Wil- liam Penn, for he was born on Tower Hill. I sometimes stood there alone in a reflecting mood, and, regardless of the showman who exhibited his learned birds and quadrupeds, called to mind the scenes witnessed on that spot in other days, when crowds gathered there to look upon such as were brought forth to die. The grass grows green in the once fetid moat, and flowers bloom on the place that soaked the gore of the too often innocent who suff'ered there; but the earth is the same now as when executions were common on the spot, although time and policies are changed, and my fancy often pictured before me the assembled crowd wait- ing to witness a fellow-being die. That is the place of death, and the one who is familiar with the history of the Tower cannot help calling to mind the scenes of the past when standing near it. In front is the White Tower, with its solid Norman arches and im- penetrable walls, and beyond that the crime-begrimed Bloody Tower, in which the prince sons of Edward the Fourth were mur- dered by their uncle's hired assassins; and nearer, the Bowyer Tower, where tradition says Clarence was drowned in a butt of malmsey. Men in the soldier-dress of the days of Henry the Seventh, big, burly, hcef-eating Britons, stand within the archway by which you enter the gloomy prison ; and sentinels pace to and fro before the ponderous gates. The building and its towers, its walls and battlements, its cells and apartments, are, with but few exceptions, the same as when men were chained therein for real or fancied crimes j and, as I gazed upon the Hill and the Tower of London, the names of those who there suffered death flashed across my mind. The place of execution is visible from the outer side of the walls, and I often stood where Margaret of Shrewsbury, Surrey the poet. Lord Dudley, the Earl of Stafford, Archbishop Laud, young Harry Vane, and Howard, Earl of Straff'ord, yielded up their lives in extenuation of real or imputed crimes. Years have gone by since the last execution took place on Tower Hill; but the murders perpetrated there can never be obliterated from the pages of history, nor will the impression of the spot made upon the minds of youthful readers by the chronicler ever bo forgotten. OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 339 As the stranger stands and looks riverwards from the eminence, his eye meets the crowded Thames and the various craft which traverse its bosom ; and the mind is led into reflections on the past, suggested by different associations from those connected with the walls of the tower and the places of execution. Large steam- ships navigate the sinuous river, and countless shipping blacken its waters, and with their tall masts almost shut out from sight the opposite shore. How different is the Thames at London now from what it was when the keels of the Koman galleys divided its waters, and the fleets of the conqueror covered its surface ! And how altered from what it was two hundred years ago, when hosts of wherries and watermen moved upon its bosom, and but one wretched, rickety bridge spanned its waters ! The glory of the abusive boatman has departed, and his calling is almost unknown at this day in the very locality where, less than a century ago, it was deemed indispensable and considered imperishable. Now, steam usurps the stream and business of the once useful wherry; and foot-passengers cross and recross from shore to shore of the Thames, both over and under its waters, without molestation, at all hours, day and night, and almost without charge. The river streets of the eastern section of the metropolis are narrow, muddy or dusty, and thronged. They partake, more or less, of the character of the streets nearest the rivers in other cities, so far as business is concerned, and the people who inhabit them ; but the houses are old, the footways narrow, and the general appearance gloomy. The men you encounter there are bent on trade, and the heavy vans and ponderous carts which roll lazily through those avenues, lumbered up with merchandise, convey to the mind of the beholder an idea of the peculiar business transacted there. I was rather fond of sauntering through them, and my face became known in one or two coffee-houses in Lower Thames Street, but more particularly in that one called Czar's Head, cele- brated for having been the place to which Peter the Grreat was accustomed to retire after finishing his day's labor in the ship- yard where he wrought as a journeyman when in London. Below the Tower, the streets are generally badly built, and the abodes of wretched poor. Rose-Mary Lane, in that quarter, was 340 THE FOOTPATH AND niGHWAY; famous, centuries ago, for its squalid appearance, and its trade in worn-out articles of apparel, old furniture, and scraps of iron. I never saw a more varied collection of broken and worn-out things than is contained in some of the shops in that home of the desti- tute poor, and resort of thieves and vagabonds. Petticoat Lane, the Broadway of the cheating and lying Jews of London, is pro- bably worse in its general features ; but it does not harbor so many really destitute beings. Squalid wretchedness meets the stranger at every turn ; and T was more than once shocked in beholding women so badly clothed as to be scarcely fit for public gaze, and certainly unfit to go into the presence of those members of their sex whose nerves are shocked when they come in con- tact with ill and unfashionably dressed people. In a walk of half an hour, I met more degraded, half-naked, barefooted females, and sickly children, than I ever saw in the United States in nearly twenty years. Poor wretches, without bonnets, whose straggling hair streamed in the cold damp winds of December, were walking barefooted over the mud-clotted pavement, and shivering with chill, and I was touched with compassion for their awful and friendless condition. My store was opened to their relief; and it was a luxury to me to be able to render such as I could a tempo- rary good. Who that has ever gazed upon a fallen, sunken woman, wandering the streets, barefooted and with loosened hair, without a sympathizer and homeless, but has felt his heart throb with compassion for the houseless outcast ? I never see such an object of pity without reflecting that the degraded one before mo was once a sinless child at her mother's knee, and happy — a guileless prattler, whose voice was music to its parents' ears j and then to think how fallen — how corrupt — how degraded her woman- hood ! But few look kindly on her, and the world passes her by unheeded. Lot her reform, let her work, is the cry ; but who takes her by the hand, and raises her from her degradation? Who offers her a home and employment? Surely not those who tell her to labor. Where, then, is she to find the means of re- forming, and work, if she wants it ? The opportunities for im- proving her condition are rare ; nearly all shrink from her as from contagion ; and at last she dies in a ditch and rots on a dung- OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 341 hill ! — the usual fate of that home of a soul — that form of an angel. I occasionally took a stroll, after sundown, along Holborn and Oxford Streets, where I saw another phase of life from that exhibited on the streets nearer the river. Those thoroughfares are wider than the Strand, or Fleet, and constantly crowded, day and night. The shops are showy and fashionable, and in many of them are displayed finery of every description. Gin-palaces are numerous, and their dazzling lights and gilded signs never fail of attracting the eye. Every species of humbug is practised by some of the keepers of these places to obtain custom, and crowds of the curious assemble nightly at the doors to see bar-maids arrayed in the Bloomer costume, or some other equally stupid attraction. As the night wears on, the respectable portion of the people, who may be abroad, gradually disappear, and by eleven o'clock have nearly deserted the streets, and given them up to the houseless and the profligate, the abandoned and the prostitute. Holborn and Oxford Streets are not the only night resorts of degraded women, unfortunately. Almost every thoroughfare in Loudon is the haunt of these poor beings, and thousands of them go forth at night to pursue their wretched calling. From obser- vations made during a residence of some months, I firmly believe that the abandoned women of London are of every age — from the tender years of childhood to the more advanced and declining periods of life — and various conditions and castes. Some flout in silks and jewelry, satins and feathers ; while others are more humble and less showy. The great majority of them are young and handsome — noble-looking. ! it is sickening to see those forsaken outcasts, as they perambulate the streets, using their arts to fascinate such as cross their path. In the early part of the evening, they are cautious and ladylike in their every movement ; but, when the clock points to eleven, they become bold and shameless. Their degradation is awful, and they stop at nothing. I cannot think they act as they do from choice, but from necessity. They will throw their arms around a man, and plead with him for his company. Persuasion, smiles, lasciviousness — every device is tried to induce those they meet to follow them. If they find their 29* 342 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGOWAY; eloquence fail of that end, then they ask for a few pence whereby to purchase a glass of gin to drown their sorrow. They assume cheerfulness and gayety when their hearts are leadlike with woe ; and their forced smiles and hysterical laughter prove their misery of soul. Night after night they follow their unholy trade ; up one street, and down another — now in a gin-palace, inhaling the poisonous beverage, and now pacing the pavement with weary limbs and aching heart j and thus continue until the gray gleams of morning flash along the eastern sky. They are forsaken and fallen — outcasts and harlots — but still women ; and I shuddered when I beheld them in their shame. Some men in this world have sins to atone for, and the worst one is the betrayal of woman. CHAPTER XXXVII. DINING or THE BLUE COAT SCHOOL-BOYS — DUKE OP WELLINGTON — MECHANICS — TRADESMEN — SOCIALISTS. The attractions of London are so numerous, that no one can notice them in regular order, and therefore it is useless to try. I somewhere before alluded to the Blue Coat School, but not in de- tail ; and as it is one of the many really interesting objects in the metropolis, I may here devote a short space to it, at the risk of the charge of being trite. The buildings in which the boys reside and receive instruction are off Newgate Street to the north, the principal one facing that avenue, as well as a large court-yard between it and the thoroughfare. The scholars number from seven hundred to a thousand, are from ten to eighteen years of age, and dressed uniformly. Tlie costume is singular, and at- tractive to strangers, but by no means handsome. The long bluo coat, reaching down to the heels, is the main feature, and it is this which gives name to the school. Many of the boys tuck it up under their red leathern girdle when romping about in the great playground, but all of them are proud to wear it, and evidently. OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 343 regard it a badge of honor, although there was a time in England when blue was a color no gentleman would wear. The boys ramble about London during certain hours of the day barehead, and, rain or dry, it is the same to them. The discipline is not so rigid as when Charles Lamb was a scholar there, and several of the old customs are fallen into disuse. The most interesting exhibitions continued to this day are the boys' participation in the service at Christ Church (the place of worship of the school), and dining in public on Sunday. I went to the great hall of the institution one Sabbath day to witness them dine, and never was I present at a more imposing ceremony than that performed by the boys before they partook of their meal. The room is large, with a gallery at the western end for spectators, a great organ at the east, and the walls adorned with some old and curious pic- tures of merit. The tables are fifteen in number, and a female takes post at the head of each at the dining hour. The children usually go directly from the church to the hall, and as the whole seven hundred pour into the room about the same time, the tread of their many feet and the sound of their voices commingle, and absorb all other noises. After they have all entered the room, and taken their places at the table, a signal for quiet is given, at which every murmur is hushed. One of the elder youths reads an appropriate service; they kneel like a mighty host in prayer ; and then, as the full tones of the powerful organ roll out upon the air, the chorus of their thousand childish voices swells to heaven in harmonious praise. It is an impressive ser- vice, and no spectator can witness it unmoved. If those boys of the Blue Coat School were taught nothing else but that sublime prayer and glorious hymn, the institution would not be useless. From the least to the greatest — from the youngest to the oldest, they all unite, at the dining-hour of the Sabbath day, in prai.se to Him who reigns on high, and there is an earnestness in their voices, when hymning thanks to the Deity, that bids every tu- multuous thought be still in the breast of the beholder. After the ceremony is performed, the meal is served in nearly the same manner in which it was usual to serve it three centuries ago. The meat is in wooden trenchers, the beer poured from 344 leathern black jacks into wooden piggins, and the potatoes are cooked with the skins on. The plates are of a particular pattern, the food plain, the bread being in rolls, and served from large baskets. The strictest decorum characterizes all, and the dining of the Blue Coat Boys on Sunday is among the most instructive and agreeable sights in London. The Duke of Wellington was one of the few men who excited the curiosity of strangers in England. His renown made him an object of interest, and foreigners eagerly sought an opportunity of seeing him. I had been in the metropolis on several occasions, at each of which periods I made exertions to get a look at the hero, but without success, until March, 1852, when by mere acci- dent I met him near Charing Cross, on his way to the Horse Guards, a place he visited frequently, on official business. From my childhood I entertained opinions averse to the personal at- tractions of Wellington, solely on account of the published pic- tures of him, in which the nose is represented so prominently. The portraits do not give that feature breadth sufficient at the nostrils, and consequently the physiognomist notices a deficiency in calculation that it is difficult to account for in a man so famous as Wellington was for forethought and skilful investigation. The artists too often exaggerated the prominence, but never the width of that most singular feature of the " Iron Duke.'* When I saw him he was on horseback, followed by a servant mounted, and trotted slowly along, occasionally returning the salutations of the people as he passed. He was dressed in a plain suit of blue cloth, rode with ease, but bent forward considerably from ago. His appearance was that of a quiet, sensible old man, who had ex- hausted the honors of the world, and was cheerfully journeying to the grave. His eye was bright, his countenance furrowed but calm, and he was to me the very best specimen of the affluent, contented, old English gentleman it was my good fortune to see in Great Britain. His nose agreeably disappointed mo, as its breadth at the nostrils fully satisfied me that he was, in fact, what fame and his deeds proclaimed him, and not what pictures led those personally unacquainted with his foatares to consider him. OR, WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 345 I liked the great man mucb, and dismissed mj prejudices against him as soon as my eyes beheld his face. He was a greater object of interest than the Crystal Palace, and almost any man would have called him great without knowing who he was. His ap- pearance indicated good living, and, if I may be allowed to ex- press an opinion from his countenance, he was not by any means a bad judge of wine. Probably his campaigns in the peninsula afforded him an opportunity of perfecting himself in deciding as to the qualities of the juice of the grape, for he evidently knew and loved the good. But the grave incloses him now, and history will say more of the blood than of the wine he spilt, and more of his virtues than his vices. The condition and manner of living of the mechanics of Lon- don are subjects worthy of note, and if accurately described, interesting. During my various residences in the city, I met with families of that class with whom I freely associated, and had, therefore, opportunities of observing them at their hearth-sides. Those whose acquaintance I made were of the better class, men of intelligence and refinement, and some of them decidedly clever. Their domestic comforts were few, and their mode of living by no means enviable. "Wages are not so high in London, in propor- tion to rents and provisions, as they are in some of the provincial towns, and it rarely occurs that a mechanic has his own house in the metropolis. They usually live in lodgings, that is, two or three rooms in some large building, in which a number of families are quartered, and their furniture is comprised in a case of drawers, beds for the accommodation of all, and the requisite chairs, car- pets, and tables. Thus packed in a contracted space, they live without being able to enjoy domestic seclusion, and cannot be said to have what every Englishman calls his castle — a house ; but only a small portion of one. The young, or single men, generally have a room which they furnish to their taste, or bargain for furnished, and in that they live, or rather lodge, for many of them obtain their meals at coffee-houses and other places of resort. Some do their own cooking in their apartments, and thus live 846 THE FOOTPATH AND highway; economically. They dwell apart from their landlords, and rarely enjoy that semi-home known among us as a boarding house. The system is productive of much evil, and leads many young men into habits of dissipation and immorality. It may be set down as a fact, without fear of contradiction, that not one journeyman mechanic in London out of fifty has a house to himself. They either rent rooms out to others, or from others; and the stranger, in rambling about the city, will notice " lodgings to let" in nearly every house of moderate size in those sections where the artisans reside. The distinctive classes of society are numerous, and there are castes among all occupations. The small master tradesmen are above the workmen, and live, in many cases, in comfortable, convenient houses in the suburbs, in a style approaching to ele- gance. It is among that class of people that the greatest amount of happiness is to be found in England, as well as virtue, and hospitality to strangers. In reality they are the men of the realm, and the bulwark of the nation. They are intelligent without pe- dantry, refined without pomp, and cultivated without afiectation. Too sensible to be worshippers of rank, they admire what is good in their government without bowing to what is vile in the system, and although educated and reared under monarchical institutions, by no means hold to the divine right of kings. Ardent lovers of their native land, and proud of their country's glory, they never- theless oppose the unjustifiable use of its power against weak and inoffen.sive nations, and denounce alike the conquests in India and the shameful encroachments of England on the lands of the Kafl&rs and Hottentots. Among such men I spent hours most agreeably, and never remarked anything in their families but the most exemplary conduct and creditable behavior. Their manner of living is plain, and yet some of their customs aro decidedly censurable. They seldom rise before seven, breakfast at eight or nine, dine at two or three, take tea at five, which is usu- ally a plain meal of bread cut into very thin slices, and buttered, with tea, and a species of plum or fruit-cake. That is the favor- ite hour of gossip among the women, and the Chinese beverage generally sets their tongues actively to work. At about nine o'clock they foolishly have a hot supper, which is out of all reason 347 for people of their intelligence, and must be decidedly injurious to the digestive organs, as well as a disturber of sleep. The English are remarkably particular in some things, and eat no fruit unless the skin is removed — consider it horrible to bite bread, and faint to see a person eat pickles with fish ; and yet they will gor- mandize from morning to midnight, swallow hot meats, cheese, and ale at twelve o'clock at night, and then retire to rest with loaded stomachs and bewildered brains. To do so is the error of the class I now speak of, and about the only thing in which they imitate the fashion and folly of the aristocracy. The routine de- scribed is peculiar to the tradesmen of London, and is pretty generally practised. The employers do not get to business so early as with us; nor do they work so constantly and late. They like the customs of their class, and expect tea at five o'clock as regularly as breakfast at eight in the morning. Six winter weeks in the metropolis afforded me frequent oppor- tunities to visit such places as my inclinations prompted, or chance presented; and during that time I often mingled in pleasant even- ing assemblages at the hearth-sides of my friends, and enjoyed social and intellectual treats of an agreeable character. I was fortunate in my acquaintance, and no one could desire the friend- ship of nobler men and women than it was my lot to pass my time with. They were in the middle walks of life — free from pride — free from envy — free from rudeness. All intelligent, and some persons of superior acquirements and strong intellects. They were of that class of men that is in reality noble, and of that portion of the English people that redeems the national cha- racter from pride and vain conceit. They were moral, refined, » sincere, honorable, and hospitable, and consequently a credit to their country. Some of them were socialists, practically and theo- retically; but the conduct and lives of these were unimpeachable. In fact, although they made no profession of religion, but, on the contrary, denounced all systems indiscriminately, they were in all the relations of life practisers of true Christian principles. During an acquaintance of five mouths, in which period I often visited at their houses, I never observed the slightest rudeness on the part of their children, or heard a single indelicate expression S48 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J fall from the lips of an individual member. Intellectual improve- ment and correct deportment were aimed at by all, and even the little, prattling children used correct language, and vied with each other in good conduct and kindly feeling. The ruling power was kindness; and it was a potent and a refining instrument surely. The evenings I passed in the company of those to whom I refer will never be erased from my mind; and although some may doubt my statements in respect to these practical socialists, and pretend to regard me as an advocate of the social system, and over-warm in my admiration of it, I hero most decidedly declare my oppo- sition to the doctrine; but, at the same time, as a candid and truthful man, must say that, wherever I visited in the families of English socialists of intelligence, I observed the most exem- plary conduct, and an amability of character and a charity for the degraded and fallen of our race that would put to the blush one-half, at least, of the professed followers of Jesus. Those who arc familiar with the workings of socialism may be able to trace the eflfect, recorded above, to causes foreign to socialist doctrines; but whether they will or not, I am willing to bear my testimony to the facts as stated, and to believe them the result of proper training and solid education. Of the socialists I met in London, and became intimate with, there was not ono in whom I would not repose the most implicit confidence. On the 12th of December, 1851, I wrote thus in my journal, and transcribe it to break the monotony of the narration : This morning we have a regular old-fashioned London fog — thick, jnurky, dull. " have just returned from a walk through it, and can speak feelingly of its density. There's no sky, no sun, no daylight. I passed along St. Martin's-lo-Orand, but could not see the post-ofl&ce on the opposite side of the way. Cheapside was !«.. vii obscurity and omnibuses; and St. Paul's churchyard full of phantoms. The gas was burning in the shops and street lamps, and things looked to me like the works of a dream. As I stw ■] at the side of St. Paul's, I tried to catch a sight of its form, but in vain. I could see the iron railing over the way, but the grand cathedral was entirely veiled from view. Every spot OR, WANDERINGS OP AN AMERICAN. 349 was alike. I could see about ten feet ahead of me, but beyond that all was misty and impenetrable to the eye. The people moved along noiselessly and quick, like figures in a dream — now in sight, the next instant lost to observation. As I descended Ludgate Hill, a caravan of omnibuses was going toward St. Paul's, and the three or four that I could see at a time appeared as if they were moving through the clouds. The outside passengers of the foremost were scarcely visible, and those of the others were only distinguishable through the fog by their dark clothing, and by the fact of their being much above the densest portion of the mist. I continued on down to Faringdon Street, and, turning into it, passed over to Blackfriars Bridge, where I found the lamps lighted and a tide of people. The river was not to be seen, and it was with difficulty that I could distinguish the outline of the opposite side of the carriage way. It was not night — it was not day, and yet it appeared like a combination of the two. The air was thick with smoke as well as fog, and the black flakes of soot emitted by London chimneys settled on the ground and floated through the atmosphere. I was content to be an observer, and asked no questions, but retraced my steps, and continued down Fleet Street to Temple Bar; but it was all the same, go where I would. The beggars had ceased to implore alms, the itinerant tradesmen to solicit custom. Every one seemed disposed to silence, and if I cast a glance in at a shop window it was to see the sales- men working by gas-light like phantoms; and to walk the street was no easy matter. The pavements were thick with greasy mud, and a man had almost as much as he could do to keep up- right. Running against one another was a common occurrence, and not an agreeable one at that. But no one scolded, and each appeared determined to get a harbor as quick as possible. Nor are things changed now, at twelve o'clock. From where I sit I can just manage to see to the opposite side of the street, and am writing by gas-light. This will give some idea of a London fog — a sort of blanket atmosphere thrown over the city to generate colds, consumption, and rheumatism. It will do very well to look at once, but to be for a month continually dwelliug in it won't answer at all. There is some sport in ploughing your way through 30 850 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY; it the first time, but you soon get satisfied, and are content to find your way into a cheerful parlor along-side of a comfortable fire, where you can look through the window, and see the mist without feeling its damp breath. There's no use to go looking at " mag- nificent buildings" where it prevails, and as for a walk in the parks, if you happen to get into one, you will be wonderfully lucky if you find your way out short of three or four hours. There you lose the latitude, and longitude, and all the landmarks are ob- scured, and there is considerable diflficulty in finding a policeman to direct you the proper course. Take it all in all, a London fog is a poser and a mysterious thing — a damper to the spirits, and a generator of disease — a villanous compound of noxious gases, and a very plague; and I'll have no more of it. CHAPTER XXXVIII. CAMBRIDGE AND ITS UNIVERSITY — THE EASTERN COUNTIES. The railways of England soon whirl a man from the smoke of London into the broad fields of the country, and in an hour or two one can be set down miles away from the metropolis. My time, for six weeks, had passed very agreeably in the city; but, as there were unexplored fields before me, I determined to visit them, and directed my course to the eastern counties and the University of Cambridge. The train soon left the capital behind, and on we dashed through a low level country, intersected by canals and sluices, farms and villages, streams and turnpike roads. The hedges were bare, but the fields green, and, although midwinter, the atmosphere and landscape gave no evidence of the frosty breath of the season, except the absence of foliage from the trees. The waters were unfrozen, and it was a diflScult thing to convinoo myself that this was an English winter. The day of heavy deep snows has passed in Britain, and the reader of Irving's graphic descriptions of Christmas weather in England can never, with OR; WANDERINGS OF AN AMERICAN. 351 reason, expect to see those descriptions realized, either in the cold- ness of the season or the cheer of the time. The spirit of the age has swept away the festivities of old, and aside from the dinner, and the pleasant custom of kissing ruby lips under the mistletoe, there is nothing of the glory of the ancient Christmas time remain- ing in the land of roast beef and homebrewed ale. We passed hamlets at a distance, and the square towers of the old churches peeped from among ivy and leafless boughs, and pre- sented a solemn appearance to the eye. Several places of note lay on the route, but no time was allowed for close observation, and I was obliged to be content with a rapid glance at Waltham Abbey, the burial-place of Harold, and a distant prospect of the famous parish church of Safi'ron Walden, with its tall and grace- ful spire, the highest in the county of Essex. The sun had sunk to rest ere we reached the celebrated seat of learning, and when I alighted from the carriage, a clear bright crescent moon was shin- ing on the earth, with more than Turkish serenity, from among a host of dazzling constellations. I sauntered slowly into the town, sought out a comfortable inn, where I met a number of gentle- manly fellows, and then rambled about the place, peering into the court-yards of the colleges, or admiring the fine Gothic buildings in the pale light of a silver moon. The avenues were alive with pedestrians, but, save the footfalls of the busy citizens, or the slow leisurely tread of the robed and square-capped students, there were no sounds to disturb the quiet of the collegiate city. The pilgrims to the wells of learning were more numerous than the plain denizens ; but I was surprised to see so large a number of fallen women as was following the footsteps of the scholars. Pros- titution is one of the curses of University towns, and one of the most fearful of the snares that beset the young and inexperienced seeker after knowledge at the English colleges ; and Cambridge is said to contain more lewd females than any other place of equal size in Great Britain. They literally swarm its streets at night, and it requires the most rigid rules and careful police re- gulations to keep them within the bounds of common decency. They gaze lasciviously upon every male they meet, and invite attention by every artifice known to their sex, and seldom let a 352 THE FOOTPATH AND HIGHWAY J person escape them until they have exhausted their entire stock of scheming to entrap him. A clear bright day is a godsend to the sight-seer in any place, and to the stranger in Cambridge nothing can be so favorable for his purposes of observation. The colleges attached to the Uni- versity number seventeen, and some of them are noble edifices. The most renowned is Trinity, the Alma Mater of many of Eng- land's celebrated authors, among whom may be enumerated Newton, Coke, Bacon, Donne, Herbert, Cowley, Dryden, and Byron. The majority of the edifices lie on the banks of the Cam, and all have spacious grounds attached to them, the greater part of which are beautifully laid out and ornamented with rows of stately elms, groves of oak, and wide shaded avenues. The river flows noiselessly through these splendid parks, and the halls of classic learning repose on the banks of the famous stream in stately dignity, bearing in their every feature the secluded characteristics of the houses of knowledge. In my rambles around these college inclosures, I frequently met studious young men, with book in hand and eyes intently bent upon a favorite page, slowly saunter- ing under the leafless trees, regardless of the curious passer-by. Deep thought was traceable in many a countenance, and the intens- ity with which some studied was a proof to me that aspirations to be great filled the hearts of the pale students, and visions of future renown prompted them to increased diligence in the pursuit of knowledge. There stood one against the trunk of a stately elm, clasping in his hand a Greek or Latin tome; another paced the shores of " revered Cam," where, of yore, '•The melancholy Cowley lay;" * and, as the breeze of winter moaned and whistled through the leafless branches over his head, ho heeded it not, but drank in the rich draught of learning. I envied those young fellows, and longed to be a participant in their delights. The splendid parks are so admirably designed for the purposes to which they are applied, and the old halls so classic in their appearance, it seemed to me that learning fulls unsought like a mantle upon the student who is fortunate enough to be an inmate of the University of Cam- bridge. 353 When the day had somewhat advanced, I entered the great court-yard of Trinity College, and, procuring the services of an intelligent guide, traversed the principal halls of the old pile. I visited the great dining-room, an apartment adorned with portraits of distinguished English scholars, and passing from it entered the grand library of the college where Thorwaldsen's splendid statue of Byron stands conspicuously. It is a noble production of the chisel, and the great Swedish artist has thrown into the speechless marble of Carrara the very semblance of the wayward bard. The figure is in an easy sitting posture, resting one elbow on a number of volumes, while the right hand holds a crayon carelessly in the fingers, one end of which is against the chin, and the eyes upraised as if the soul were drinking in the sweetest in- spiration. The whole aspect of the figure is extremely youthful ; but the librarian, who knew Byron, informed me that it is re- markably like the great bard, both in form and expression of face. The body is clothed in modern costume, with a single-breasted frock-coat, buttoned carelessly across the chest, so as to leave the throat exposed; and over the shoulders is a loose mantle, which falls in graceful folds around the form and feet of the figure. The expression of the countenance is angelic, and the dullest mind would experience pleasure in contemplating it. Aside from the subject from which it originated, the statue is sublime, and when the beholder reflects that it is a faithful representation of the erratic and wonderful author of " Don Juan," he stands in admira- tion of the intellectual and personal beauty of the man. Such figures as that of Byron are worthy of immortal marble, and gene- rations yet to come will gaze with delight upon the petrified form of the bard left us by the genius of Thorwaldsen. There are other productions of the chisel in the room, but none of them deserve particular mention. There is one object, how- ever, of the greatest interest to the lover of the sublime in litera- ture, and that is the original* of '^Paradise Lost" in Milton's own * A correspondent of tlie " New York Courier and Inquirer," in which journal this chapter was published in letter form, raised a doubt as to the existence of the MS. alluded to, and, after quoting from the third book of 80* 354 THE FOOTPATH AND niGHWAY; handwriting. It is preserved with the greatest care, under a glass case. I was not aware that it was in the place until my " Paradise Lost," Bome lines in wliich the poet makes mention of his blindness, closed his communication with this confident interrogation : — '* Now, gentlemen, do you think that your correspondent saw the * ori- ginal of " Paradise Lost" in Milton's own handwriting?' " To which the editors of the "Courier" replied as follows: — **In spite of the views presented by our correspondent, and of his tri- umphant query, we do think that ' Pedestrian' saw the original of ♦ Para- dise Lost' in Milton's own handwriting. * Pedestrian's' assertion that he he did so would be very satisfactory to us upon the point, if not perfectly conclusive, even if it were not entirely consistent with the recorded facts in the case. * A Subscriber' seems to take it for granted that, because Milton was blind during the composition of a part of 'Paradise Lost,' he was so during the composition of the whole of it ; and also to be ignorant of the fact that Milton's great poem was written first in the form of a Dra- matic Mystery. Such, however, was the case. It was written twice thus by his own hand : and then, abandoning that plan, he was ten years in writing the Epic as we now have it. A perfect manuscript copy of this epic Milton showed to El wood the Quaker in 1GH5, taking it out of a bureau where it had probably lain completed for some time. Now, as Milton was not blind until 1G52, or perhaps 1G54, it is very evident that the original of * Paradise Lost' must have been composed when he had the full use of his eyes. 'ols. super- royal 8vo. Including Supplement, bound in cloth, sheep, calf, &c., varying in Price from $10 to $15. The whole forming the most valuable as well as the cheapest Commentary published in the world. A 1 LIFPINCOTT, QOAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. NOTICES AND RECOMMENDATIONS OF TUE COMPllEHENSIVE COMMENTARY. The Publishers select the following from the testimonials they hare received as to the value of the work : W^e, the subscribers, havini; examined the Comprehensive Commentary, issued from the pre«i of Messrs. L., G. Si. Co., and highly approving iU character, would cheerfully and confldently recom- mend it w containing more matter and more advantages than any other with which we ar« acquainted ; and considering the expense incurred, and the excellent manner of its mechanical execution, we believe it to be one of the cheapest works ever issued from the press. We hope the publishers will be sustained by a liberal patronage, in their expensive and useful undertaking. We should be pleased to learn that every family in the United States had procured a copy. B. B. WISN ER, I). D., Secretary of Am. Board of Com. for For. Missions. WM. COGSWELL, D. D., - " Education Society. JOHN COD.MAN, D. D., Pastor of Congregational Church, Dorchester. Rev. HUBBAKD WINSLOW, " » Bowdoin street, Dorcheitei. Rev. SEWALL HARDING. Pastor of T. C. Church, Waltham. Rev. J. H. FAIRCHILD, Pastor of Congregational Church, South Boston. 6ARDIMER SPRING, D. 0., Pastor of Presbyterian Church, New York city. CYRUS MASON, D. D., " • " *• « « THOS. M'AULEY, D. D., " .. - « « JOHN WOODBRIDGE, D. D., - " - - « THOS. DEW ITT, D. D., " Dutch Ref. " « - E. W. BALDWIN, D. D., • " " • • Rev. J. M. M'KREBS, - Presbyterian " - - Rev. ERSKINE MASON. " •• " « - Rev. J. S. SPENCER, • « « BrtK.klyn. EZRA STILES ELY, D. D., Stated Clerk of Gen. Assem. of Presttyterian Chorck. JOHN M'DOWELL.D. D., Permanent " " « - JOHN BRECKENRIDGE, CoiTespondmg Secretary of Assembly's Board of EducaUo^ SAMUEL B. WYLIE, D. D.. Pastor of the Reformed Presbyterian Church. N. LORD, D. D., President of Dartmouth College. JOSHUA BATES, D. D., President of MiddleGury College. H. HUMPHREY, D. D., " Amherst College. E. D. GRIFFIN, D. D., • Williamstown College. J. WHEELER, D. D., " University of Vermont, at Borlington. J, M. MATTHEWS, D. D., " New York City University. GbJORGB E. PIERCE. D. D., *• Western Reserve College, Ohia Rev. Dr. BROWN, " Jefferson College, Penn. LEONARD WOODS, D. D., Professor of Theology, Andover Seminwy. THOS. H. SKINNER, D. D., « Sac. Rhet. - - Rev. RALPH EMERSON, - EccL Hist. Rev. JOEL PARKER, Pastor of Presbyterian Church, New Orleana. JOEL HAWES, f). D., " Congregational Church, Hartford, Couk. N. S. S. BEAMAN, D, D., - Presbyterian Church, Troy, N. Y. MARK TUCKER, 1). D.," - m « « Rev. E. N. KIRK, - - ■ Albany, N. T. Rev. E. B. EDWARDS, F.ditor of Quarterly Observer. Rev. STEPHEN MASON. Pastor First Congregntional ChnrcJj, Nantucket. Rev. OR IN FOWLER, - .. « « y^^ Ri^^^ GEORGK W. BETHUNE. D. D., Pa.e used as a companion to the Compreheiisive or any other Commentary, or (iW Holy Bible. THE ENGRAVINGS in this volume, it is believed, will form no small part of its attractions. No pains have been ipwl to procure such as should embellish the work, and, at the same time, illustrate the text Otqae. tions thnt have been made to the pictures commonly introduced luto the Bible, as being mere en^ tions of fancy and the imo^nation, oRen unlike nature, and frequently conveying false unpreakM% cannot be urged against the pictonal Ulustnitious of this volume. Here the fine arts tra mate subservient to utility, the landscape views being, without an exception, wtatter-of-fact mam offiaem menttoned in Scripture, as they appear at the present day; thus in many instances exhibiting, in tha mntit forcible manner, (o the eye, the strict and literal fulfilment of tha remarkable propheciea; "tha presKiit rumcd and desolate condition of the cities of Babylon, Nmeveh, Selah, 6tc., and the eoun- trios of Edom and Egypt, are astonisbing examples, and so completely exemplify, in tha moat minute particulars, every thing which was foretold of them in tha height of Uieir pmapenty, that no better description can now b« given of them than a sunple quotation from a chapter and versa of the Uible writUtn nearly two or thxe« thousand years ago." Tha pubhshera sre enabled to salaol from several collections lately published in Lontioo, the proprietor of one of which says that ** sav»- ral distinguished travellers have afforded him tha use of nearly TVer Htmdrtd Ontmal SketekuT of S<*ripture places, made U|ion the spot. " The land of Palektme, it is wall known, abounds in scenes of the must picturesque beauty. Syna comprehenUa tha snuwy hatfhta of LabaaoB, and tha majestic ruins of Tadnior and Uanniec." The above work can be had in various styles of binding. Price from 01 50 to $5 00. THE ILLUSTRATED CONCORDANCE, In one volume, royal 8vo. A new, full, and cxtmplrte Conconliuice ; tllustmted with monumental, trnditloBal, and oriantal engrnviUCT, foundrd on Butlerworth's, with Crudon's dennitions; forming, it is bflieved, on ina«f accounts, a more valuable work than either Butt«rworth, Cruden, or any other similar book la Ilia langunge. The value of a Concordance Is now generally understood ; and thoaa who have need ona, oe»* ndcr it ino. Price One Dollar. 4 LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. LIPPINCOTT'S EDITION OF BAGSTEB'S COMPREHENSIVE BIBLE. In order to develoi«e the peculiar nature of the Ck)mprehensive Bible, it will only l»e necessary to embrace its mcire prominent features. 1st. The SACRED TEXT is that of the Authorized Version, and is printed from the edition cor- rected and imj>roved by Dr. Blaney, which, from its accuracy, is considered the standard edition. 2il. The VARIOUS READINGS are faithfully printed from the edition of Dr. Bianey, inclusive of the translation of the proper names, without the addition or diminution of one. 3d. In the CHRONOLOGY, great care has been taken to fix the date of the particular transao tions, which has seldom been done with any degree of exactness in any former edition of the Bible. 4th. The NOTES are exclusively philological and explanatory, and are not tinctured with senti- ments of any sect or party. They are selected from the most eminent BibLcal critics and cem- nientators. It is hoped that this edition of the Holy Bible will be found to contain the essence of Biblical research and criticism, that lies dispersed through an immense number of volumes. Such is the nature and design of this edition of the Sacred Volume, which, from the various objects it embraces, the freedom of its pages from all sectarian jiecnliarities. and the beauty, plain- ness, and correctness of the typography, tliat it cannot fail of proving acceptable and useful to Christians of every denomination. In addition to the usual references to parallel passages, which are quite full and numerous, the student has all the marginal readings, together with a rich selection of Philological, Critical, Kisto- ricnl, Geographical, and other valual)le notes and remarks, which explain and illustrate the sacred text. Besides the general introduction, containing valuable essays on the genuineness, authenticity, and inspiration of tlie Holy Scriptures, and other topics of interest, there are introductory and con- cluding remarks to each book— a table of the contents of the Bible, by which the different portions are so arranged as to read m an historical order. Arranged at the top of each page is the period in which the prominent events of sacred history took place. The calculations are made for the year of the world before and after Christ, Julian Period, the year of the Olympiad, the year of the building of Rome, and other notations of time. At the close is inserted a Chronological Index of the Bible, according to the computation of Arch- bishop Ussher. Also, a full and valuable index of the subjects contained in the Old and New Tester ments, with a careful analysis and arrangement of texts under their appropriate subjects. Mr. Greenfield, the editor of this work, and for some time previous to his death the superintend- ent of the editorial department of the Brili.sh and Foreign Bible Society, was a most extraordinary man. In editing the Comprehensive Bible, liis varied and extensive learning was called into suc- cessful exercise, and appears in happy combination with sincer«» piety and a sound judgment. The Editor of the Christian Observer, alluding to this work, in an obituary notice of its author, speaks of it as a work of " prodigious labour and research, at once exhibiting his varied talents and pro- found erudition." LIPPINCOTT'S EDITION OF THE OXFORD QUARTO BIBLE. The Publishers have spared neither care nor expense in their edition of the Bible; it is printed en the finest white vellum paper, with large and beautiful type, and bound in the most sutetantial and splendid manner, m the following styles : Velvet, with richly gilt ornaments ; Turkey super e^tra, with gilt clasps ; and in numerous others," to suit the taste of the most fastidious. OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. "In our opinion, the Christian public generally will feel under great obligations to the publishers of this work for the lieautiful taste, arrangement, and "delicate neatne.ss with which they have got it out. The intrinsic merit of the Bible reconmiends itself; it needs no tinsel ornament to adorn its sacred pages. In this edition every sujjerflnous ornament has been avoided, and we have pr«»- sented us a perfectly chaste specimen of the Bible, without note or rxjmment. It appears to bejusl what is needed in every family— 'the unsophisticated word of God.' "The size is quarto, printed with beautiful type, on white, sized vellum paper,of the finest texture and most beautiful surface. The publishers seem to have been solicitous to make a perfectly unique liook, and they have accomplished the object very successfully. We trust that a liberal community will aflford them ample remuneration for all the expense and outlay they have necossa rily incurred in its publication. It is a .standard Bible. "The piiblishers are Messrs. Lippincolt, Grambo orket-best edition of the Bible published In neat plain binding, from 30 to 50 cents. -In tucks, or pocket-book style, 00 rents to $1 OOi- In roan, imitulion gilt edge, 75cent8 to $1 25. — In Turkey, super extra, $1 O0to$l 50. — In da do gilt clasiis, $1 SO to $2 00. — In velvet, with richly Rilt oriiameuts, $2 SO to $6 00. CONSTANTLY ON HAND, A Jerge assortment of niBl.KS, lioiiiul m the most splendid and octly styles, with gold uid dv«i ornaments, suitable for prf.«;i-ntation ; ranging in price fVom $10 00 to $100 00. A liberal discount made to Booksellers and Agents by the ruMuhere. ENCYCLOP/EDIA OF RELIGIOUS KNOWLEDGE; OR, DICTIONARY OF THK HIHLE. THEOLOGY, KELIGIOUS lUOGRAl'llY. ALL RELIGIONS, ECCl.KSIASTK'AL HISTOFtY, AND MIS.SIONS. Designed as n complete Book of Reference on all Rcllgiotis Subjrrt.*, and Compeokwi to the Bible ; lorming a cheap niul compact l^iliniry of Kcligious KnowU-dge. Edited by Rev J. Newton Brown. Illustrated hy wotxl-cuU, maps, and engravings on copper and steel. In one volume, rorml 9n. Price. $4 00. 6 LIPPINCOTT, QRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. Lippincott's Standard Editions of THE BOOK OF COMMON PRAYER. IN SIX DIFFERENT SIZES, ILLUSTRATED WITH A NUMBER OF STEEL PLATES AND ILLUMINATIONS, COMPREHENDING THE MOST VARIED AND SPLENDID ASSORTMENT IN THB UNITED STATES. ,„THE ILLUKIINATED OCTAVO PRAYER-BOOK, ""Trinted in seventeen different colours of ink, and illustrated with a number of Steel Plates and Illuminations ; making one of the most splendid books published. To be had in any variety of the most superb binding, ranging in prices. In Turkey, super extra, from $5 00 to 88 00. — In do. do., with clasps, $6 00 to $10 00. —In do, do., bevelled and panelled edges, $8 00 to $15 00. — In velvet, richly ornamented, $12 00 to $20 00. 8vo. In neat plain binding, from $1 50 to $2 00. — In imitation gilt edge, $2 00 to $3 00. —In Turkey, •uper extra, $2 50 to $4 50. — In do. do., with clasps, $3 00 to $5 00. — In velvet, richly gilt orna- ments, $5 00 to $12 00. 1 6mo. Printed throughout with larce and elegant type. In neat plain binding, from 75 cents to $1 50 —In Turkey morocco, extra, with plates, 11 75 to $3 no. — In do do., with plate.s clasi)s, &.C., $2 50 to $5 00. — In velvet, with ricldy gilt ornamenti, $4 00 to $0 (10. 18mo. In ueat plain binding, from 25 to 75 cents. — In Turkey morocco, with plates, $1 25 to $2 00. — lo velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $3 00 to $8 00. 32mo. A beautiful Pocket Edition, with large type. In neat plain binding, from 50 cents to $1 00. — In roan, imitation gilt edge, 75 cents to $1 50. — In Turkey, super extra, $1 25 to $2 00. — In do. do., gilt clasps, $2 00 to $3 00. — In velvet, with richly filt omaraeuts. $3 00 to $7 00. 32mo., Pearl type. In plain binding, from 25 to 37 1-2 cents. — Roan, 37 1-2 to 50 cents. — Imitation Turkey, 50 cent« to $1 00. —Turkey, super extra, with gilt edge, $1 00 to $1 .W. — Pocket-book style, 60 to 75 cent*. PROPER LESSONS 18mo. A BEAUTIFUL EDITION, WITH LARGE TYPE. In neat plain binding, from .V) cents to 81 00. — In roan, imitation gilt edge, 75 cents to $1 60. — In Turkey, super extra, $1 50 to $2 00. — In do. do., gilt clasps, $2 50 to $3 00. — In velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $3 00 to $7 00. THE BIBLE AND PRAYER-BOOK. In one neat and portable volume. 32mo., in neat plain binding, from 75 cents to $1 00. — In imitation Turkey, $1 00 to $1 50.~In Turkey, super extra, tl ,'iO to $2 50. IBiiio, in large type, plain, $1 75 to $2 50. — In imitation, $1 00 to $1 75. — In Turkey, sap«r extra, $1 75 to $3 00. Also, with clxsps, velvet, el uitu districts, and eraa lalopwiah ctiurchus, wl.iire before it was compumtively uiikiiown " "This work fully deserves the iinniortiility it has attained." I'liis IS a fine library edition of this iiiVHluubln work ; and when we say that it should t>e foond ia the posscRsiuit of cvory fiiimly. we oidy rcitetulo the scnliinoiils aud tiuu^ure wiKhes of alt who take a deep interest in tho eternal weUare of uiuukind. FAMILY PIlAYEllS AND HYMNS, ADAPTED TO FAMILY WORSHIP, TABLES FOR THE REGULAR READING OF THE SCRIPTURES. Hy Roy. S. C. Wi.NcnESTER, A. M., Late Pastor of the Sixth Presbyterian Churvh, Philiulelphia ; and the Preehyleriao diorcb NatchoT.. Miss. One volume, 1 2 in o . 8 LIPPINCbTT, QUAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. SPLENDID LIBRARY EDITIONS. ILLUSTRATED STANDARD POETS. ELEGANTLY PRINTED, ON FINE PAPER, AND UNIFORM IN SIZE AND STVLE. Tlie following Editions of Standard British Poets are illustrated with numerous Steel Engravings, and may be had in all varieties of binding, BYRON'S WORKS. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. INCLUDING ALL HIS SUPPRESSED AND ATTRIBUTED POEMS ; WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. This edition has been carefully compared with the recent London edition of Mr. Murray, and made complete by the additiim of more than fifty pages of poems heretofore unpublished in Eng- land. Among these there are a number that have never appeared in any American edition ; and the publishers believe they are warranted in saying that this is t/ie most complete edition of Lord Byron's Poetical Works ever published in the United States. I^oetiml l^nvb nf Mrs. Itmans. Complete in one volume, octavo ; with seven beautiful Engravings. This is a new and complete edition, with a splendid engraved likeness of Sirs. Hemans, on steel, and contains all the Poems in the last London and American editions. With a Critical Preface bjr Mr. Thatcher, of Boston. "As no work in the English language can be commended with more confidence, it will argue bad taste m a female in this country to be without a complete edition of the writings of one who waa an honour to her sex and to humanity, and whose productions, from first to last, contain no syllable calculated to call a blush to the check of modesty and virtue. There is, moreover, in Mrs. Hemans's poetry, a moral purity and a religious feeling which commend it, in an especial manner, to the dis- criminating reader. No parent or guardian will be under the necessityj^of imposuig restrictiong with regard to the free perusal of every production emanating from this gitled woman. There breathes throughout the whole a most eminent exemption from impropriety of thought or diction; and there is at times a pensiveness of tone, a winning sadness in her more serious compositions, which tells of a soul which has been lifted from the contemplation of terrestrial things, to divine aommunings with beings of a purer world." MILTON, YOUNG, GRAY, BEATTIE, AND COLLINS'S POETICAL WORKS. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO. deluding two hundred and fifty ftetters, and sundry Poems of Cowper, never before pubUshed ia tliis country ; and of Thomson a new and interesting Memoir, and upwards of twenty new Poems, for the first time printed from his own Manuscripts, taken from a late Edition of the Aldine Poets, now publishing in London. WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. The distinguished Profes.sor Silliman, speaking of this edition, ol)serves: "I am as much gratified by the elegance and fine taste of your edilirm, as by the noble tribute of genius and moral «icol- lence which these delightful authors have left for all future generations ; and Cowper, esp«^iallJr, is not less conspicuous as a true Christian, moralist and teacher, than as a poet of great power and exquisite taste." 9 LIPPINCOTT, ORAMBO & CO.'S PCBLICATIONS. THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROGERS, CAMPBELL, MONTGOMERY, LAMB, AND KIRKE V/HITE. COMPLETIS IN ONE VOLUME, OOTAVO. WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVING-S. The beauty, correctness, and convenience of this favourite edition of these standard authora ara eo well known, that it is scarcely necessary to add a word in iu favour. It u only necessary to aay , that the publishers have now issued an illustrated edition, which greatly enhances its former valas. The engrravings are excellent and well selected. It is the best library edition extant. CMBBE, IIEBER, AND POLLOK'S POETICAL WORKS. COMrLETE IN OXE VOLUME, OCTAVO. WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS. A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following language with reference to these valuable editions :— •' Mr. Editor : — I wish, without any idea of pufling, to say a word or two upon the ' Library of English Poels' that is now published at Philadelphia, by Lippincott, Grambo .'8 illustrated editions. A COMPLETE Diriioiuiri] of portirnl (tlnotafion OOMPRISING TIIK MOST n.Xi'F.Lf.KNT ANM) AI'PROPRIATK rAF^AGES IN THE OLD r.RITISII I'OiriV; WITH riloK'K AVI) t'CJPlors 8KLEC- TION8 FRO.M TlIF- lU'.ST MOPKRN IIRITISII AVD AMERICAN l't)i:TS. EDITED BY SARAH JOSEPHA HALE. As nightingales do u|Km glow-worms feed. So fMiets live ui)on the living light Of Nature and of Beauty. BniUy't F^stut. Beautifully illuRtroted with Ensravinga. In one auperroyal ortnvo volnme, in vanoua bindingt. The publishers exti-nct, from the many highly uuniplinienlaor notices of the above Taloabl* aad beautiful work, the following : " VV« have at lust a volume of Pi>eftc4il Quotations worthy of the name. It otntams nearly six hundred ,, ....i, .,..., ....Uior wortM peru.i!:ig, from tli«i jlays of Chaucer to the present time " •WiishttwUm Omon. "There is luitliiug nc^pitive about this work ; it is ttositivtly gmwl."— Kvmtng BuUtttn. 10 LIPPINCOTT, QEAMBO & tO.'S PUBLICATIONS. THE DIAMOND EDITION OF BYRON. THE POETICAL WORKS OF LORD BYRON, TVITH A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE. COMPLETK IN ONE NEAT DUODECIMO VOLUME, WITH STEEL PLATES. The type of this edition is so perfect, and it is printed with so much care, on fine white paper, that it can be read with as much ease as most of the larger editions. This work is to be had id plain and superb binding, making a beautiful volume for a gift. " The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, complete in one volume : published by L., G. & Co., Phila' delphia. We hazard nothing in saying that, lake it altogether, this is the most elegant work ever issued from the America!i press. '"In a sinjrle volume, not larger than an ordinary duodecimo, the publishers have embraced tha whole of Lord Byron's Poems, usually printed in ten or twelve volumes; and, what is more remark- able, have done it with a type so clear and distin(;t, that, nfrtwithstanding its necessarily small .size, it may be read with the utmost facility, even bv' failing eyes. The book is stereotyped ; and never have we seen a finer specimen of that art. Everything about it is perfect — the paper, the print- ing, the binding, all correspond with each other; and it is embellished with two fine engravings, well worthy the companionship in which they are placed. " 'This will make a beautiful Chnstmas present.' " We e.xtract the above from Godey's Lady's Book. The notice itself, we are given to understand, is written by Mrs. Hale. " We have to add our commendation in favour of this beautiful volume, a copy of which has been sent us by tiie publishers. The admirers of the noble bard will feel obliged to the enterprise winch has prompted the publishers to dare a competition with the numerous editions of his works already in circulation ; and we shall be surprised if this convenient travelhng edition does not in a great degree supersede the use of the large octavo works, which have little advantage in .size ana openness of type, and are much inferior in the qualities of portability and lightness." — IntelMgencer. THE DIAMOND EDITION OF MOORE. (corresponding with BYRON.) THE POETICAL WORKS^OF THOMAS MOORE, COLLECTED BY HIMSELF. COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME. Tnis work is published uniform with Byron, from the last London edition, and is the most com- plete printed in the country. THE DIAMOND EDITION OF SHAKSPEARE, (COMPLKTE IN ONE VOLUME,) XN'CIiXrDIITO A SKETCH QV HIS LIFB. UNlFOR^[ WITH BYHO.N AND MOORE. THE ABOVE WORKS C.'^N BE HAD IN SEVERAL VARIETIES OF BINDINQ. GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE. IN TWO VOLUMES, OCTAVO. BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED WITH 385 PLATES. CONTAINING A HISTORY OF THE EARTH, ANIMALS, BIRDS, AND FISHES; FORMING THE MOST COMPLETE NATURAL HISTORY EVER PUBLISHED. Tliis is a work that should be in the library of every family, having been wntten by one of th« most talented authors in the English language. "Goldsmith can never be made obsolete while delicate genius, exquisite feeling, fine invention^ the most harmonious metre, and the liappiest diction, are at all valued." BIGLAND'S NATURAL HISTORY Of Animals, Birds, Fishes, Reptilrts, and Insects. Illustrated with numerous and beautiful Eagnv mgs. By JOHN BIGLAND, author of a " View of the World," •' I^twrs on IJoiversal History," UNAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASE. TO WHICH IS ADDED, A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES ; AND AN APPENDIX, Containing Recipes for Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Dogs, Swine, <5to. Ac. BV RXCHJLRD miASON, 3VE. D., Formerly of Surry County, Virginia. In one volume, 12mo.; bound in cloth, gilt. MASON'S FARRIER AND STUD-BOOK-NEW EDITION. THE GENTLEMAN'S NEW POCKET FARRIER: COUPRISINa A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OP THE NOBLE AND USEFUL ANIMAL, THE HORSE; WITH MODES OF MANAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASK. BV BZCHARD TOLASONy BI. D., Formerly of Surry County, Virginia. Yo which is added, A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES; and AN APPENDIX, containing Recipes tot I Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Dogs, Swine, pleinent, 'On the Relations between Man and the Domestic Animals, espe- cially the Horse, and ihe Obligations thny impose ;' or the one on '1 he Form of Aounals;' but that either one of them would overrun the space here allotted to such subject*." " Lists of Medicines, and other articles which ought to be at hand alwut every trainmf and liTety •table, and every Farmer's and Breeder's establishment, will be found in these valuable worka." TO CARPENTERS AND MECHANICS Just Published. A NEW AND IMPROVED EDITION OF THE CAllPENTEirS NEW GUIDE, BBINQ A COMPLETB BOOK OT LINKS rOR ABPHXOTTRir AXTD JOIVrBBlT; Tncting fully on Practical Geometry, Saffil's Unck and Plaster Groins, Niches uf every dcwrtpttak. Sky-lights, Lines for Roofs ajid Domes : with a great vanety of Designs for RooA, Trussed Gmlers, Floors, Domes, Dndges, Aic, Angle Ban for Shop Fronts, e without it."— The City Item 15 LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. THE YOUNG DOMINICAN; OR, THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION, AND OTHER SECRET SOCIETIES OF SPAIN. BY M. V. DE FEREAL. WITH HISTORICAL NOTES, BY M. MANUEL DE CUENDIAS TEANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY SPLENDID ENGRAVINGS BY FRENCH ARTISTS One volume, octavo. SAY'S POLITICAL ECONOMY. A TREATISE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY; Or, The Production, Distribution and Consumption of WealtL B7 J^AN BjQJPTISTI: SA7. FIFTH AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ADDITIONAL NOTES, BY C. C. BIDDLE, Esq. In one volume, octavo. It would be beneficial to our country if all those who are aspiring to office, were required by theft constituenU to be familiar with the pages of Say. The distingruished biographer of the autlwr, in noticing this work, observes : " Happily for adenoe he commenced that study which forms the basis of his admirable Treatise on Pobttcal Eamomtf ; e work which not only improved under his hand with every successive edition, but has been translated into most of the European languages." The Editor of the North American Review, speaking of Say, observes, that " he Is the most popular, and perhaps the most able writer on Political Ecol^omy, since the time of Smith." LAURENCE STERNE'S WORKS, WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR: WRITTEN BY HIMSELF. WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS, ENGRAVED BY GILBERT AND GIHOIi, FROM DESIGNS BY DARLEY. One volume, octavo; cloth, gilt. To commend or to criticise Sterne's Works, in this age of the world, would be all " wasteftal tad extravagant excess." Uncle Toby — Corporul Trim — the Widow — Le Fevre — Poor Maria— the Captive — even the Dead Ass,- this is all we have to say of Sterne; and in the meaiory of Umm characters, histories, and sketches, a thousand follies and worse than follies are forfottan. TIm volume ia a very handsome one. THE MEXICAN WAR AND ITS HEROES, A COMPLETE HISTORY OF THElffiXICAN WAR, ■MBRACINO ALL THE OPERATIONS UNDER GENERALS TAYLOR AND SCOTT. WITH A BIOQEAPHY OF THE OFFICERS. ALSO, AN ACCOUNT OF THE CONQUEST OF CALIFORNIA AND NEW MEXICO, I'nder Gen. Konmy, Cols. Doniphan ami rrcmout. Togetlier with Numpnms Anecdotes of the War, and Personal Adventures of the Officers. lUuBlratMl with Acourato PortraiU. aiul other Beautiful Engravingi. Ib ouq volume, 12mo. 16 LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. NEW AND COMPLETE COOK-BOOK, THE PRACTICAL COOK-BOOK,. CONTAINING UPWARDS OT ... i OXrz: THOUSA.X7D RXSOISIPTS, Consisting of Directions for Selecting, Preparing, and Cooking all kinds of Meats, Fish, Poultry, ami Game; Soups, Broths, Vegetables, and Salads. Also, tor makiner all kinds of Plain and Fancy Breads, Pastes, Puddings, Cakes, Creams, Ices, Jellies, Preserves, Marma- lades, ikc. &c. e, Ogilsby, &.C. The illustrations are rich and exquisitely wrourht enrra vinits npo* t.ie following subjects: — "Samuel before Eli." "Peter and John healing the Lame Man," "TWe Resurrection of Christ," " Joseph sold by his Brethren," "The Tables of the Law." "ChriA^ A«[ony in the Garden," and " The Flij^ht into Egypt." These sul^jects, with many oUmi* ia pram and verse, are ably treated throughout the work. ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY EXEMPLIFIED. In the Private, Doincatlr, Socinl, nnd Civil T^lfc of the Primitive ChrUtlana, mid In the Original Inatltiitlons, Offices, Ordinancea, and Rites of the Church* BY REV. LYMAN COLEMAN, D.D. In one volume 8vo. Trico $2 60, 18 LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. LONZ POWEKS; Or, The Regulators. A ROMANCE OF KENTUCKY. FOUNDED ON FACT 8 . BY JAIVIES -WEIR, ESQ. LV TWO VOLUMES. The scenes, characters, and incidents in these Tolumes have been copied from nature, and fro» t8al life. They are represented as taking place at that period in the history of Kentucky, when the Indian, driven, after many a hard-fought field, from his fevourite hunting-ground, was succeeded by a nide and unlettered population, interspersed with organized bands of desperadoes, scarcely less savage than the red men they had displaced. The author possesses a vigorous and graphi* pen, and has produced a very interesting romance, which gives us a striking portrait of the timei he describes. A PRACTICAL TREATISE ON BUSINESS; OR, HOW TO GET, SAVE, SPEND, GIVE, LEND, AND BEQUEATH MONEYt WITH AN INQUIRY INTO THE CHANCES OF SUCCESS AND CAUSES OF FAILURE IN BUSINESS. BY EDWIN T. FREEDLY. Also, Prize Essays, Statistics, Miscellanies, and numerous private letters from successful and distinguished business men. 12mo., cloth. Price One Dollar. The object of this treatise is fourfold. First, the elevation of the business character, and to define clearly the limits within which it is not only proper but obligatory to get money. Secondly, to lay down the principles which must be observed to insure success, and what must be avoided to escape failure. Thirdly, to give the mode of management in certain prominent pursuits adopted by the most successful, from which men in all kinds of business may derive profitable hints. Fourthly, to afford a work of solid interest to those who read without expectation of pecuniary benefit. 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