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 RELAND, 
 
 COTLAND: 
 
 A DESCRIPTION OF CITIES, CATHEDRALS, LAKES, MOUNTAINS, 
 RUINS, AND WATERING-PLACES. 
 
 BY 
 
 THOMAS W. SILLOWAV 
 
 AND 
 
 LEE L. POWERS. 
 
 " A dwarf standing on the shoulders of a giant may see farther than 
 the giant himself." — Didimcs Stella. 
 
 BOSTON: 
 
 1' I' I. KS \ \ I) II I l 
 :M Botu po* Stbbei 
 
 1887.
 
 Copyright 188> <'. 
 By A. Williams and Company. 
 
 THIRD EDITION. 
 
 University Pm 
 TmiN Wilson and Son, Cambridge.
 
 TO 
 LUTHER GARDNER ROBBINS, 
 
 THE GOOD COMPANION AND FRIEND OF ONE OF THE AUTHORS 
 
 FOR MORE THAN A QUARTER OF A CENTURY, 
 
 AND OF THE OTHER FOR SOME YEARS, 
 
 Wc\\z l T olumc 
 
 IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED AS A SMALL TOKEN 
 OF REGARD AND ESTEEM.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 The Authors, having travelled somewhat leisurely over im- 
 portant parts of Ireland and Scotland, and in a yet more 
 deliberate and critical manner over the principal parts of Eng- 
 land, — observing not only salient points in the life of each 
 country, but at the same time passing in review their history and 
 work, — and believing that a synopsis of what their New England 
 eyes, ears, and minds saw, heard, and discovered, would be 
 acceptable to the public, one of them prepared a series of articles 
 which were published in one of the weekly papers of Boston. 
 The interest awakened, and a belief that these reminiscences 
 should be put into a more permanent form, have inclined the 
 authors to amend the articles as the case seemed to demand, 
 and they are thus presented in this volume. 
 
 When the original papers were prepared, a departure from the 
 usual custom of writers on travel was made. Instead of simply 
 recording personal observations, the labor was extended by the 
 incorporation of historic and biographic facts, the authors hop- 
 ing that, while their work would be valuable and interesting as 
 a compend to those familiar with the facts, it would also be 
 entertaining and instructive to that large class, in all commu- 
 nities, who are without the means of obtaining such information. 
 Care was therefore exercised to obtain data verified by the 
 testimony of various authors.
 
 VI INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 The articles having been published in narrative style, it has 
 been thought well to present them again in that fonn ; and the 
 authors wish to say by way of apology, if one be needed, that 
 the opinions and criticisms expressed are such as impressed 
 their own minds, and are not reflections of the minds of others. 
 With this explanation, and craving the indulgence and patience 
 of the reader, they send forth their volume.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Erelanto. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 I. New York to Queenstown, Cork 3 
 
 II. Blarney, Killarney, the Lakes iS 
 
 III. Muckross Abbey, Limerick, Dublin .... 36 
 
 IV. YYaterford, Carrick-on-Suir, Kilkenny, Dub- 
 
 lin AGAIN 57 
 
 IBnglanto. 
 
 V. Liverpool, Chester, Shrewsbury, Worcester, 
 
 Hereford 75 
 
 VI. Gloucester, Bristol, Bath, Salisbury, Sarum, 
 
 Amesbury, Stonehenge, Wilton 95 
 
 VII. Bemerton, Winchester, Reading, Newbury . 114 
 
 VIII. London 129 
 
 IX. Oxford 161 
 
 X. Warwick, Stratford-on-Avon, Leamington, 
 Kenilworth, Coventry, Birmingham, Lich- 
 field n>7 
 
 XL Stoke-u pon-Trent, Staffordshire, Manches- 
 ter, 1 1 1 1. < Carlisle 1S7
 
 viii CONTENTS. 
 
 Scotland. 
 
 Chapter Page 
 
 XII. Glasgow, Rob-Roy Country, the Lakes, 
 
 Callender, Stirling 199 
 
 XIII. Stirling Castle, Edinburgh 212 
 
 XIV. Melrose, Abbotsford 233 
 
 iSnglantJ. 
 
 XV. Newcastle-on-Tyne, Durham 243 
 
 XVI. Yorkshire, York, Sheffield, Lincoln . . . 253 
 
 XVII. Boston, Peterboro, Lynn 270 
 
 XVIII. Wells, Norwich, Ely 282 
 
 XIX. Cambridge 295 
 
 XX. London, Windsor, Stoke Poges 3'5 
 
 XXI. London, Hampton Court, Rochester, 
 
 Chatham, Canterbury 328 
 
 XXII. Dover, Brighton, Calais 343
 
 IRELAND.
 
 CATHEDRAL TOWNS. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 NEW YORK TO QUEENSTOWN — CORK. 
 
 ON Saturday the 12th day .of April, 1878, at half-past 3 
 p. m., the good Inman steamer City of Richmond, with 
 us on board, loosed her cables, and the floating palace 
 moved out into North River majestically, — as only such vessels 
 can move, — passed the forts, and sailed on, till at dusk, yet 
 before dark, the Highlands of Neversink — a misnomer to us 
 then — retired from view, and, Byron-like, we felt and said, 
 
 " My native land, good-night." 
 
 Suppered, and enjoyed the look of that waste of sky and 
 waters till ten o'clock, and then consigned ourselves to the em- 
 brace of 
 
 " Tired nature's sweet restorer, balmy sleep." 
 
 The morrow was Sunday. We were up betimes, and on deck 
 for new views, fresh air, and to see how things compared with 
 those of last night. All was well, — comparatively smooth sea, 
 and good breeze. We had sailed 224 miles, and so were that 
 much from home. Breakfasted, and on deck again, — this time 
 Dearly all our cabin passengers, about one hundred com- 
 plete. They appeared well, and we thought our lot had been 
 cast in a pleasant place ; and so it proved. There were conspic- 
 uous the essentials <>i comfort lor the voyage, — among them 
 inclined-back, cane-finished lounging-chairs, and good blanket 
 by providential people who had travelled before, 
 or who had friends who had journeyed and in whose advice they 
 had confidence. No matter if it be July or Augu 1, it is a good
 
 4 ON THE ATLANTIC. 
 
 friend who effectually advises one to carry a great coat, shawl, 
 or blanket rube. 
 
 The sun shone bright, and the inhabitants of the City of Rich- 
 mond were happy. At 10 a. M. came the roll-call of sailors and 
 table-waiters, arranged in squads at special points. An officer 
 and the captain [K^sed in front, the name of each was distinctly 
 called, the old, old response, Here, passed along the line, and the 
 work was done. Of course a large part of the passengers were 
 near by, inspecting, and they were presuming enough to think 
 all was going on right, and the work well done. 
 
 Next came an officer giving information that divine service 
 was to be held in the cabin at 1 1 a. m., and inviting singers to 
 be at a certain location. One of our party, having before tried 
 the ship's piano, was installed as pianist. At the hour ap- 
 pointed, nearly all on board, including the sailors, had assembled, 
 and it seemed very like a church meeting. The pulpit was a 
 desk placed on a common table, covered with a cloth ; a Bible 
 and prayer-book were on it, and our captain officiated, — a man 
 of fine physique, apparently about sixty years old, and, but for 
 the absence of clerical robes, very bishop-like in appearance. 
 He went finely through the service of the Church of England, 
 employing about an hour, and concluded by saying : " I am 
 now to preach my usual sermon, which is to take up a collection 
 for the widows and orphans of sailors." A good charity, — and 
 a befitting response was made. 
 
 At one o'clock, dinner ; next, various methods of using the time, 
 the principal of which was reading or lounging about decks. 
 
 Soon came a change in conditions. Wind breezed up and 
 we had more than a fifteen-mile power ; and so sails were in 
 order — our first sight of operations of the kind. Next came 
 white-capped waves ; and at 5 p. m. had come those indescribably 
 hateful movements of the ship, that many a one has felt before, — 
 down first at bow, and next up at stern, and vice versa continu- 
 ing. " Confound," said they of the physically weakening brig- 
 ade, " the deliberation, yet fearful determination and success 
 with which these movements are made," — as though transform- 
 ing us first into lead and then into feathers ; and soon follows 
 an aggravating roll, playing with us as though we were alternately 
 puff-balls and cannon-shot. But neither waves nor ship were to 
 be confounded to accommodate us. Instead, both ship and sea 
 appeared to be in league with the old-fashioned adversary. It 
 seemed, to the subjugated ones, as though his Satanic Majesty 
 was down under the propellers, with a mighty power straighten-
 
 NEW YORK TO QUEENSTOWN. 5 
 
 ing himself up, and lifting as only he could do ; and then, as aid, 
 there appeared to be an imp scarcely less powerful, pulling down 
 at the bow, and in addition, many a fellow of like nature under 
 each side of the ship, lifting up and letting go alternately. What 
 masters of the art ! How easily they did it ! 
 
 Disgusted with the company and their doings, one after the 
 other of our associates paid tribute to whom tribute was due ; 
 and what was left of our disgusted organisms went below as 
 best they could. And here the curtain drops ; for, though the 
 spirit was willing, the flesh was weak. 
 
 It is 6 p. m., Sunday. We were told that the winds increased 
 to a gale ; rain, snow-squalls and hail came into the fray. The 
 vessel staggered ; the stanch bulwarks were but a partial barrier 
 to that fury-lashed sea ; and the decks were often swept with 
 the newest of new brooms. 
 
 Next in our record is Friday p. M. Fair weather. Ship has 
 come out ahead. Imps and their master are defeated and gone ; 
 the decks, as by talismanic transformation, are peopled again with 
 the old brigade ; and then for hours is in order a statement of 
 what each has done and has not done. Well, the history of one 
 lot of mortals, conditioned thus, is that of all. 
 
 It is a question often arising with people who have never been 
 to sea, how passengers manage to occupy their time and break 
 up the monotony of the passage. On a long voyage, days and 
 hours doubtless move sluggishly, but on a simple passage to 
 England this is not so. A thousand things, that on land would 
 be of no account, on shipboard attract attention and please. 
 " Men are but children of a larger growth," and there are play- 
 things in abundance. There 's a discount on reserve, and at 
 sea a general freedom in conversation obtains ; aristocracy is 
 at a discount, and democracy at a premium. Reading, lolling 
 around in a delightfully don't-care sort of a way, are done in 
 firsts lass manner; smoking, cards, and checkers occupy some, 
 while others arc busy lookers-on. Talking things over, — poli- 
 ience, and a large amount of nothing in particu- 
 lar ; promenading; watching steamers and sailing vessels; ob- 
 serving schools of fish, or single ones, ocean currents, peculiar 
 clouds, and work the sailors are doing; eating four meals, or 
 eating none, but instead hating the thought of ton reasing i 
 self, — these and like things fill the eight or ten days. And so we 
 entertained and employed to the journey's end, — greatly 
 ted in thi the hi ad oi the < ompanion way, whh h 
 
 • :i daily had marked upon it a distinct line showing the
 
 6 IRELAND. 
 
 direction and extent of sea passed over the preceding twenty-four 
 hours. 
 
 So our voyage continued till the next Sunday, at 6 p. m., when 
 the monotony was broken by one of the officers confiden- 
 tially saying he thought he saw land. Of all intelligence to a 
 tourist this is most welcome. One of the passengers — name- 
 less here — looked to the left far ahead, and really saw what the 
 officers did ; but to his less disciplined or sea-educated eyes it 
 appeared to be a ship, and so he declared ; but in a half-hour 
 more sounded from stem to stern the intelligence of discovered 
 land, and then the fancied ship had been transformed into a 
 dim-appearing, small mountain. It was the Skellig Rocks, the 
 first-seen land of Ireland, fifty miles from Cape Clear. Passing 
 on came to view Dursey Island, with its Bull, Cow, and Calf 
 rocks, and then — alas for us waiters and watchers ! — night 
 came and we must forbear. 
 
 At 4 o'clock a. m. on that fine Easter Monday morning, April 
 21, a good company on deck saw plainly on the left, and not far 
 away, the veritable land. There lay in the distance the old 
 mountains of Munster, and Fastnet Rock, a pyramidal formation 
 standing majestic in the water five miles or so out from the high, 
 dark, rocky coast. Next a lighthouse came into view, desolate 
 but surrounded by an indescribable beauty. 
 
 Soon we pass into George's Channel. The land is treeless, 
 but clothed with elegant verdure. The surf beats wildly and 
 unhindered against its rocky ramparts. Here and there, nest- 
 ling cosily on the hillsides, are small Irish cabins, one-story 
 high, built of stone, plastered and whitewashed, having thatched 
 roofs, a few small windows, and a single door. Next appear a 
 few Martello Towers of stone, some twenty-five feet in diameter, 
 and perhaps forty feet high, — designed as fortresses, having 
 formerly, if not at present, cannon on their level, and, it may be, 
 revolving tops. And now appear fresh evidences of civilization, in 
 the fishing-boats with tan-colored sails \ and next we arrive at a 
 little hamlet, Crooked Haven, the seat of the telegraph to 
 Queenstown. We next pass Kinsale Head ; in less than an 
 hour more Daunt's Rock, with its bell-buoy ; and after that a 
 sail of five miles carries us to the opening into Queenstown 
 Harbor, and we are at the end of the voyage. 
 
 It is now 5 o'clock a. m. Our ship for the first time in eight 
 days shuts off steam ; her pace slackens ; and — as though while 
 not tired, yet willing to rest — she floats leisurely. How majestic 
 and calm ! The small " tender " steamer is alongside, and now
 
 QUEENSTOWN. 7 
 
 what scenes begin ! How others retire before the hurry, the 
 bustle, the good-nature everywhere manifest. A veritable 
 " Paradise Regained." No matter for corns trodden upon, nor 
 lack of respect for dignity or age. Every one destined for a 
 landing minds his own business. Never was work of the kind 
 done better. All the Queenstown passengers on board, the 
 tender starts for the desired haven. 
 
 The City of Richmond starts her machinery, and is soon lost 
 to view on her journey of eighteen hours to Liverpool ; but we on 
 board the small steamer are full of admiration for the new sights 
 and sounds. Have just passed through the great opening two 
 miles across, and one mile deep or through, and so are inside 
 the harbor lines. In passing, on our left were high, verdant hills. 
 On the right were higher hills, crowned with a few chalk-white 
 buildings, — the lighthouse and its keeper's dwelling, the grounds 
 enclosed with a wall, white like the buildings, resembling fairy- 
 work in that setting of emerald. And now has opened an ex- 
 panse of great extent and rare beauty. " No finer harbor in the 
 world can there be," think and ejaculate all, at that early day, 
 when few if any of the party have travelled ; and " No finer in 
 the world is there," say we now, when we have gone a good part 
 of the world over. 
 
 To the right, encircling and on a magnificent scale, stretch the 
 green hills on a curved line, half enclosing a basin five miles long 
 and three wide. As before named the hills are grandly verdant, 
 and dotted over here and there with single stone shanties, as 
 white as snow. Scattered about promiscuously in profusion is the 
 Furze — a shrub from two to six feet high, in general appearance 
 not unlike our savin — in full bloom, with a profusion of chrome- 
 yellow blossoms, fragrant and like the odor of a ripe peach. A 
 few groves intermingle, and thus a finished look is given, inclin- 
 ing the beholder to call all perfect and needing no change. To 
 the left is a scene more broken in outline and less elevated and 
 extended. There is a sublime repose and feminine beauty 
 to the right and around the shore to the town ; but on the 
 left is a masculine effect, and a sort of vigorous business air 
 obtains. In the foreground of this side of the harbor, and not 
 far from the shore, an- three islands, on which are the barracks, 
 the penitentiary for eight hundred convicts, and the naval store- 
 i, four or five stories high. These are modern and 
 appropriate-looking stone edifices, built, as all such establish 
 ments are, "regardless of expense." In front of the openi 
 the harbor, and two miles away, lies the town itself, containing
 
 3 IRELAND. 
 
 10,039 inhabitants, and till 1849 called the Cove of Cork. In 
 that year, in commemoration of a visit of Queen Victoria, it 
 took the name of Queenstowu. 
 
 We are for the first time inside a harbor of the land of 
 the shamrock, and beholding the soil of the Emerald Isle. Only 
 one who has sailed and waited and, Columbus-like, watched the 
 approach to land, and has read and thought well about the Old 
 Country, can know the feelings that fill the breast of one about to 
 land. This pleasant anticipation is here, for fancy resolves itself 
 into reality and fact. He is about to " know how it is himself," 
 and as no one can know it for him. 
 
 The town lay stretched out in front, right and left, rising by 
 abrupt terraces or cross streets — parallel to the water — to a 
 great height, with a few streets leading upward. The wharves 
 are of wood ; and these, which partake largely of the nature of a 
 quay along the line of the water, are old and more or less de- 
 cayed in appearance, as are many of the buildings in the vicinity. 
 The houses to the right of our landing and along the shore, and 
 continuing up quite a distance on the hill, are of the usual 
 stone construction, being mostly one or two stories high. The 
 streets are very narrow, and far from being cleanly kept. The 
 rear yards of the houses, as they back up against the hill, are 
 very small ; and as one walks through an elevated street, and 
 looks down into these contracted and filthy back-yards and on 
 the roofs of the houses, he is led to pity the occupants, 
 for there is presented the evidence of poverty and wretched- 
 ness. To the left of the landing, and above this portion of 
 the town, is a better population and condition. The principal 
 avenue and business portion of the place is at hand. A wide, 
 clean, and properly built thoroughfare, used more or less as a 
 market-place and stand for teams, stretches for a fourth of a 
 mile, with stores of fair capacity and good variety, and a few are 
 of more than average style. The buildings are nearly all of 
 stone, light in color, and three or four stories high. 
 
 From the nature of the land, and intermingled as the build- 
 ings above the main street are with gardens and trees, a pictur- 
 esque appearance is presented ; and the view of the great basin 
 or harbor, from these elevated streets is indescribably grand. 
 The streets here, and especially the continuing roads, are well 
 macadamized and clean. 
 
 At the centre of the town a large and elegant Roman Catholic 
 Cathedral, built of dark limestone and in the decorated Gothic 
 style of architecture, is about finished.
 
 QUEENSTOWN. 9 
 
 One peculiarity of the place is a lack of fruit-trees in the 
 gardens. The common dark-leaved ivy abounds, and is found 
 growing wild on road- walls, and along the roadsides in profusion. 
 As a front-yard or lawn shrub, fuchsias, such as are raised in 
 America in pots, are common, and often in large clumps like our 
 elder, six or eight feet high. 
 
 Another peculiarity is an absence of clothes-lines. Instead, the 
 practice prevails of spreading newly washed clothes on the grass, 
 with small stones to keep them from being blown away. 
 
 Another thing of interest is the common and general use of 
 diminutive donkeys to draw small carts, used by boys and girls, 
 from eight to sixteen years old, for common porterage. They 
 are also used for milk-wagons. Each wagon has an oaken tank, 
 holding about half a barrel ; straight-sided, larger at the bottom 
 than at the top, having a cover and padlock ; the measure 
 hanging on one side. There is straw behind, and at the front 
 end the boy or girl is driving. These donkeys are usually of a 
 cream-color or gray. All are cheap and coarse-looking, and a 
 majority of them are aged, with their hair two thirds worn off. 
 They are the very personification of good-nature, and do their 
 work well. So far as value is concerned they are " worth their 
 weight in gold," but they cost, when in best condition, not more 
 than ten dollars each. Witnessing their patience, the great ser- 
 vices they render, and the small amount of recompense they 
 have while living, we incline to the opinion that, as a result of the 
 working of the laws of cause and effect, there may be expected 
 for them good conditions in their Hereafter. They are angels 
 in disguise, and we wish they were in use in America as com- 
 monly as they are here. 
 
 Other objects that attracted attention were the public wells 
 built in especial parts of the town. They are enclosed springs 
 of water, or it may be reservoirs supplied by pipes ; the places 
 are from six to ten feet square, and only a few feet deep, a 
 descent to which is made by stone steps into the small, stone- 
 covered rooms. The people using them for the most part carry 
 tin- water to their houses in earthen jars holding two or three 
 gallons tax h. The water i*-, carried by girls and women, seldom by 
 boys and men ; at least we could see none engaged in the service. 
 
 As maybe imagined, considering the filthy nature of s e of 
 
 the people who thus obtain the water, it is Decessary to have a 
 rd declaring the enforcement of law on any one who dips 
 
 a dirty or questionable article into one of the wells, or interferes 
 with tile purity of the water.
 
 10 IRELAND. 
 
 Signs render a large service in the place, and some of them 
 make queer statements, — at least so they appear to Americans. 
 For instance, one reads : 
 
 Here Margaret Ahearn is Licensed to sell Tobacco. 
 
 The street letter-boxes had this inscription : 
 
 Cleared at 8 a. m. and 6 p. m., and on Sundays 
 
 at 5 P.M. 
 
 At 2 p. m. this same day with some reluctance we left what 
 was to us a place of interest, and took the nice little black- 
 painted steamer Erin, for a sail from this Lower Harbor of 
 Cork, as it formerly was called, to the city itself. 
 
 The journey, covering a distance of eleven miles, may be 
 made by rail or steamer. The wise, pleasure-seeking tourist 
 goes by river. On board the little steamer, having paid a shil- 
 ling (twenty-four cents) for the passage, valises at our side, — 
 and that is all of our baggage, or as we ought now, being in 
 foreign lands, to term it, luggage, — we take our last admiring 
 look at this queen of harbors, and with inexpressible reluctance 
 bid adieu to its beautiful scenery, submitting to our fate in 
 anticipation of another visit, as the steamer that takes us to 
 America will be here for a day to receive the mails. We steam 
 to the left end of the basin, and, rounding to the right, pass into 
 the lovely River Lee, — an extremely picturesque stream aver- 
 aging here perhaps a quarter of a mile in width. 
 
 The weather is cool, but pleasant for the season. Vegetation 
 in certain respects is three or four weeks in advance of that 
 about Boston. This applies to grass, lilacs and shrubs of the 
 kind, and spring flowers ; but garden vegetables, from planted 
 seeds, are not at all in advance. In fact, up to this time, April 
 22, little planting has been done. The atmosphere of the south- 
 ern parts of Ireland and of England being very damp, and the 
 entire winter mild, certain kinds of vegetation advance ; but 
 cultivated work has no especial advantage over New England, 
 where the first fruits of the gardener's labor are gathered as 
 early as in those islands. 
 
 But to return from our digression, we proceed on our short 
 voyage to Cork, and are now on our passage up the River 
 Lee. The scenery on the right bank, on the Queenstown side, 
 is somewhat hilly and of pleasing aspect, though not especially 
 striking or unusual ; but that of the opposite shore is elegant
 
 CORK. 11 
 
 and picturesque in the extreme. About a mile from the mouth 
 of the river is the beautiful village of Monkstown, a semi-watering- 
 place, having tourists' hotels and a castle. Monkstown Castle 
 is in ruins, having been built in the year 1636. It is related 
 that Anastatia Goold, a woman of masculine qualities, during the 
 absence of her husband in Spain, conceived the idea of building 
 this as a family mansion, and to pay for it, hit upon the scheme 
 of supplying her workmen with their family stores. She pur- 
 chased them at wholesale, and retailed them at a profit which 
 paid the entire cost of the castle, with the exception of a single 
 groat (eight cents of our money). 
 
 The river above this widens into a small lake, and is called 
 Loch Mahon. Three and a half miles farther up we arrive at 
 the smart little village of Glenbrook ; and one and a half miles 
 farther, we come to another pretty town, called Passage. 
 
 Soon appears Blackrock, a small promontory, on which is a 
 structure suggesting an ancient castle, built on a tongue of land 
 extending into the clear water of the river. The mansion, how- 
 ever, is old only in style and outline, for it is of modern con- 
 struction. Blackrock is supposed to be the place from which 
 William Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania, set sail, a. d. 1682, 
 landing after a passage of six weeks. 
 
 We were for the hour sumptuously entertained. Small castles 
 coves, headlands, near and distant scenery, and a luxurious 
 vegetation lent a fascination and charm, which was but the 
 beginning of a series of similar entertainments, not to end till 
 after the first of September. 
 
 CORK. 
 
 Arrived at the castle, not far in the distance is seen, through 
 the opening of the hills making the river banks, the shipping of 
 the city of Cork, which is practically the capital of South Ireland. 
 We find it a large commercial metropolis, built closely on both 
 sides of the River Lee. The latter is parted at the city, and thus 
 the left side of ( ork stands mainly on an island, connected with 
 the other side by nine stone or iron bridges. It has in all a 
 population of 97,887, and is the third city of Ireland in im- 
 portance and commerce, being excelled only by Dublin and 
 ,t. 
 
 On one side of tin- river aa we pass into the city, at our left 
 hand, are shipyards, repair and dry dorks, and a vast amount 
 of work of the kind is dune. It may be added, there is pre-
 
 12 IRELAND. 
 
 sented to view in the harbor a forest of masts, and here may be 
 seen the shipping of all nations. Near these and just above 
 them, up along farther in the city and bordering the river, are 
 fine Boulevards, — narrow parks or promenades well graded, 
 called the Mardyke, and set out with shade-trees. The opposite 
 side of the river, at the entrance of the harbor proper, is occu- 
 pied by elegant lawns, with shrubbery and shade-trees in front 
 of fine mansions and villas ; and again, along the river above 
 these, begins the business part of the city. 
 
 A good quay extends half a mile on both sides of the river. 
 These have walls of cut, dark limestone, crowned by a substan- 
 tial railing as a protecting balustrade. The larger part of the 
 place, so far as its business portion is concerned, is built on 
 level ground, and here the streets are wide, well paved and 
 clean, and with the buildings, all of which are of brick or stone, 
 a majority of the latter being painted in light colors, present a 
 pleasing and finished appearance. All things seen are anything 
 but what is imagined by a stranger when he hears one speak of 
 Irish Cork. 
 
 Here and there, as at Queenstown, may be seen some of the 
 old Irish male stock, with corduroys and long stockings, velvet 
 coats, peculiar felt hats, heavy shoes — strangers to Day and 
 Martin's specialty ; but these are exceptions, about as much so 
 as they are in the Irish sections of New York or Boston. Gen- 
 erally speaking, the dress of the people, male and female, of Irish 
 cities is not peculiar, and aside from these exceptional instances 
 they do not vary from those of London or Boston. 
 
 As regards a good civilization — everywhere in the business 
 parts of the city, manifested by large and well-filled stores and 
 fine warehouses, and by well dressed and industrious people — 
 our impressions were very favorable. 
 
 The city in this region, like all large places, has its quota of 
 men loafing about its bridges and wharves, waiting, Micawber 
 like, " for something to turn up." So has Atlantic Avenue, 
 Boston. In these respects Boston is Corkish, or Cork is like 
 Boston. About the steamer wharves and at the railway station 
 (we don't now talk of depots, for to be true to foreign dialect, 
 we must say station) it is the same. At these, and along the 
 thoroughfare from it, are boys, Yankee-like, ready to turn an 
 honest penny or to earn one ; and very demonstrative they 
 are, and the cabmen as well. Americans are often outdone by 
 them. One of these boys, at the moment of our landing from 
 the steamer, seized our valises and would carry them. He
 
 CORK. 13 
 
 insisted and we nfsisted, and at length the American element io 
 us — " the spirit of '76 " — was aroused, and in the ascendant ; 
 and to convince him that he ought to let go his hold, down 
 came a hand on his arm with a force, and accompanied by a 
 tone of voice and ejaculation, that meant business. " Keep off ! 
 Let go ! " was the order and advice, and he did both. 
 
 Here, as at Queenstown, the little donkeys were on hand, 
 and rendering a large and patient service. The public buildings 
 are not very important, but substantial and good of their kind. 
 Conspicuous among the new edifices is the Episcopal Cathedral 
 now being erected. It is of stone, very imposing, with three 
 towers, and in the Romanesque style of architecture. The 
 Roman Catholic Cathedral, SS. Peter and Paul, also of dark 
 limestone, having cut or hammered dressing, is a Gothic struc- 
 ture of considerable size, with a good tower at the centre of the 
 front end, crowned with four turrets, and having a neat but 
 small lawn, surrounded with an iron fence, about the cathedral's 
 front. It was erected after designs by the celebrated F. W. 
 Pugin, and cost $150,000. The interior, although not old, was 
 dirty and presented a dingy appearance. We were told by the 
 verger (sexton) that times being hard, business dull, and the 
 people poor, accounted for the condition. We differed in 
 opinion in other respects than theologically, but made no men- 
 tion of the fact, and passed out. 
 
 Of course we must see, and soon at that, the church of 
 St. Ann's, Shandon, and so made for that. It ought before to 
 have been said that soon after crossing the river the land rises 
 quite fast ; so that as one stands in the business part, and in 
 the thoroughfare along the line of the river, — and looks across 
 the entire section of the city from the river backwards, the 
 distant parts are seen towering much above the business portion. 
 High up, along from the centre to the right, appear shade- 
 trees and good gardens, with other evidences of a better civi- 
 lization ; but from these along to the left is presented a view 
 quite the opposite of the front, or harbor, view of Queenstown. 
 There, the low population is to the right and near the water ; 
 while here it begins half-way up the hill at the centre, and 
 extends a half-mile or more to the left ; and, as we leave the 
 centre named, the buildings on the hillside, and the group or 
 lot widening till they r<.n li from the river to the top <.i the 
 hill, arc go arranged that, with houses of several Stories and of 
 
 remarkably quaint design, the high roofs appear in ranges one 
 
 above the other, and the great hillside presents a strange.
 
 14 IRELAND. 
 
 antique, thoroughly European appearance. They are of stone, 
 built in the most substantial manner, and are unlike anything 
 that can be found in America. 
 
 But we resume our journey to St. Ann's, Shandon. As 
 observed from the river streets, it stands not far from the Cath- 
 olic Cathedral, nor far from the centre of the hillside, as re- 
 gards extent right and left, or elevation. The edifice was built 
 in 1722. The tower was built of hewn stone, taken from the 
 Franciscan Abbey — where James II. heard mass — and from 
 the ruins of Lord Barry's castle. It is of dark limestone on 
 the three principal sides, and, like the body of the church, with 
 red sandstone on the rear side above the church roof. The 
 edifice is made celebrated by what are termed and somewhat 
 well known as The Sweet Bells of Shandon, made conspicuous 
 by the poem of Father Prout : — 
 
 " Sweet Bells of Shandon, 
 That sound so grand on 
 The pleasant waters of the River Lee." 
 
 The church is Protestant Episcopal, and is of a debased 
 Roman architecture. It has a square tower rising a proper 
 distance above the roof, and this is crowned by a series of three 
 square sections of somewhat ill proportions as regards their 
 low height; and the top one is finished with a small dome sur- 
 mounted by an immense fish as a vane, the tower and steeple 
 being perhaps one hundred and twenty feet high. We did not 
 hear the bells, save as they played a few notes at the quarter- 
 hours. The one on which the hours are struck is probably the 
 largest tenor bell, and weighs perhaps 2000 pounds. What we 
 did hear of them did not arouse enthusiasm. We simply 
 thought them good average bells, and made more than that, in 
 song and story, simply by Father Prout's poem. One thing 
 about the tower struck us forcibly, and that was the monstrous 
 dials, full twelve feet in diameter, painted directly on the stone- 
 work of the tower, with a rim of stone at the figure circle. 
 
 Next, a few words in relation to the population and condition 
 of this part of the city. It will be remembered that we are now 
 in the centre of the hillside, as seen from the business parts of 
 the place, and at an elevation of full sixty feet, — in the con- 
 spicuous, and what ought to be aristocratic, quarter of the 
 metropolis. But alas for what " might have been." The street 
 in front, and the passage along the side of this building, are ill 
 cared for and filthy in the extreme. A burial-ground forms part of
 
 CORK. 15 
 
 the premises on both sides of the edifice, and is as neglected and 
 disgraceful as one can well imagine. On the right is a thorough- 
 fare alongside of the church, leading through the cemetery to 
 some institution — perhaps a parish-school or hospital — in the 
 rear of the church, and fronting on this passage-way. Here 
 are cast-off shoes, broken crockery, stones thrown about by 
 the boys, and unmentionable filth in abundance. At the right 
 are broken monuments, badly defaced gravestones, and half- 
 dilapidated tombs, all betokening a general lack of care over the 
 premises. 
 
 Walking from the front of the church to the narrow and filthy 
 streets that compose the neighborhood, we noticed such odors, 
 sights, and conditions as we had before erroneously associated 
 with all of Cork. We here saw a low Ireland at its best — or 
 worst, as we may choose to term it ; for here abounded dirt, 
 degradation, poverty, and general squalor, up to the height of 
 our early imagination. The houses are of stone, plastered and 
 white-washed, most of them^one or two stories high, with roofs 
 covered with very small and thick slates. We soon had enough 
 of this kind of " Erin go bragh." If we did not know all that 
 was possible to be known, imagination would, in spite of us, 
 aggravatingly supply what was lacking. 
 
 As we passed out of this " Paradise Lost," or at least the one 
 not regained, we could but feel that to make less display of ser- 
 vice within their churches, depend less for good fame on the 
 Sweet Bells of Shandon, and render a more reasonable and 
 practical service, would be more rational, Christian and right. 
 
 We are told that the ancient Pharisees made the outside clean, 
 and the inside was full of dead men's bones, and all manner of 
 uncleanness. These people have reversed this, and without 
 visible improvement. 
 
 Next must be named a thing of interest, and that is the 
 Bazaar. It is a one-story building of immense size, and in ap- 
 pearance like a railway freight-house. Built of stone, and 
 centrally situated, it is filled with every conceivable kind of 
 second-hand goods. Separated, market-like, into stalls, it is so 
 arranged and confusing as to make a labyrinth of avenues and 
 • us. Here arc su< h things as old hardware, boots and 
 . — some as poor and valueless as we throw away, some 
 better and newly blacked, — clothing for both sexes, crockery, 
 — and we might continue the list. The Bazaar is managed by 
 women, and the pla< e and ii , commodities are as indescribable 
 
 as the nationality of the Man in the ,\loon.
 
 16 IRELAND. 
 
 As at Queenstown, we saw much drunkenness, and often met, 
 singly or in squads, the Red-coats, or English soldiers ; but more 
 concerning these will be said in another place. 
 
 The space we devote to this city is perhaps more than its 
 share, but less can hardly be said, and our references to it are 
 ended by a quotation or two from its history. 
 
 It is said that Cromwell, during his short sojourn in Cork, 
 caused the church bells to be cast into cannon. On being re- 
 monstrated with against the profanity, he replied that as a priest 
 had been the inventor of gunpowder, the best use of the bells 
 would be to cast them into canons. 
 
 It was here that William Penn, founder of our Pennsylvania, 
 became a convert to Quakerism. He visited the place to 
 look after his father's property, changed his religion under the 
 preaching of Thomas Loe, and on Sept. 3, 1667, was appre- 
 hended with others and taken before the Mayor's Court, charged 
 with " attending unlawful assemblies." Refusing to give bonds 
 for good behavior he was imprisoned, but wrote to the Lord 
 President of the council of Munster, who ordered his discharge. 
 He was identified with the Quakers from this time till his 
 decease, at Ruscombe, England, July 30, 1 718, at the age of 
 seventy-four. 
 
 Cork has an interesting ancient history. It was long the seat 
 of a Pagan temple, on the site of which St. Fionn Bar, the 
 anchorite, founded a monastery in the beginning of the seventh 
 century. The Danes in the ninth century overran the kingdom, 
 and were probably the real founders of the city, and they sur- 
 rounded it with walls ; though the St. Fionn Bar monastery had 
 continued through the centuries, and it is recorded that, on the 
 intrusion of the Danes, the seminary had full seven hundred 
 scholars " who had flocked there from all parts." 
 
 The inhabitants, under the Danes and their successors, fre- 
 quently devastated the entire vicinity, and were in turn pun- 
 ished by the neighboring chiefs. 
 
 In 1493 Perkin Warbeck, the impostor king and pretender 
 to the throne of England in the reign of Henry VII., was re- 
 ceived here with great pomp and display. In consequence of 
 participation in this act, the mayor was hanged and beheaded, 
 and the city lost its charter, which was not restored till 1609. 
 
 An ancient historian, Ralph Holinshed, whose works were 
 published in 1577, thus describes this city. " On the land side 
 they are encumbered with evil neighbors — the Irish outlaws, 
 that they are fein to watch their gates hourlie, to keep them shut
 
 CORK. 1 i 
 
 at service time, and at meales, from sun to sun, nor suffer anie 
 stranger to enter the citie with his weapon, but the same to 
 leave at a lodge appointed. They walk out at seasons for 
 recreation with power of men furnished. They trust not the 
 country adjoining, but match in wedlock among themselves 
 onlie, so that the whole citie is well-nigh linked one to the other 
 in affinite." 
 
 In the War of the Protectorate, Cork maintained its condi- 
 tion as a loyal city till 1 649, when it was surprised and taken by 
 Cromwell, whose acts and cruelties are well known the civilized 
 world over.
 
 18 IRELAND. 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 BLARNEY — KILLARNEY — THE LAKES. 
 
 AT 9 A. M. Tuesday, April 23, we took a jaunting-car for 
 famed Blarney Castle. Before proceeding with our 
 story we must speak of our team, for it is the mode of 
 conveyance for tourists over the Emerald Isle, and Ireland 
 would hardly seem like Ireland without the jaunting-car. It 
 is a vehicle with two wheels and a single horse. The driver is 
 mounted up, sulky-style, in front. There are two seats, length- 
 wise and back-to-back, for a couple of adult persons, facing out- 
 wards, and most of the time holding on, though a little practice 
 convinces one that the danger of falling is less than anticipated. 
 Large numbers of these teams are in the main streets of all the 
 principal Irish towns, waiting for employment. The usual price 
 for a jaunt is eight shillings, or about $2.00 of American money. 
 The one selected, whose driver was over anxious to carry the 
 two Amirikins, as he called us, offered to do the job for jv. 
 6d. Yankee-like, having made a good bargain, — and the 
 driver, unyankee-like, having as at an auction bid against him- 
 self, — we mounted, and were soon on our way to the place so 
 renowned in history. First, we will consider the roads. 
 
 The ride is exceedingly pleasant, and over one of the smooth 
 and hard roads which are everywhere to be found in Ireland. 
 We go out of Cork southwardly, and pass through a small and 
 not over-nice settlement called Black Pool, by no means inaptly 
 named. The scenery is very pleasing, and so is the road we 
 travel. The view on the north side of the river, though not wild 
 or romantic, has beautiful landscapes, made up of fine hills and 
 valleys, streams and groves, with, now and then, unlooked-for 
 ruins of a monastery or small castle, or of distant round- 
 towers. 
 
 There are no long straight roads, but there is an ever vary- 
 ing aspect, and the ways are clean to a fault. It is a charac- 
 teristic of Ireland, England, and nearly all European countries, 
 to have well-built faced-stone walls along the roadside, and an
 
 RIDE TO BLARNEY. 19 
 
 entire absence of the random weeds and bushes which so 
 commonly grow along the walls and sides of the roads in Amer- 
 ica. It is a disgrace to our Young American civilization that it 
 should be an exception, where the sides of our roads, and es- 
 pecially in the vicinity of farmhouses, are clean, and in lawn-like 
 condition, as is always the case abroad. We have much to learn 
 from Ireland, — a deal of our practice to unlearn, and consid- 
 erable to do, — before we can compare favorably with Europe in 
 this respect. A waste of acres exists in consequence of this 
 neglect on nearly all New England farms. In the aggregate 
 there are hundreds of thousands of acres which, if kept clean 
 and cultivated for grass, would be profitable. Even if done at 
 the town's expense, the income would go far towards paying 
 the cost of keeping in repair the adjoining highway. The 
 State should pass a law making this neglect a finable offence ; 
 and the sooner all States do this the better our civilization 
 will be. 
 
 We continue on our way enjoying inexpressibly the exhilar- 
 ating air and sunny, May-like day, and entertained somewhat 
 by the clack of the driver, who, as best he can, tries to make 
 his old story appear to us as new as possible, but, in spite of 
 our or his efforts, we get the impression that he has told that 
 story before. 
 
 We next get a good but distant view of Carrigrohan Castle, 
 belonging to one Mr. McSwiney — the name of both castle and 
 owner Irish enough. It is situated on a precipitous limestone- 
 rock formation on the opposite bank of the river. At length — 
 one hour passed, and about four miles traversed — we arrive at 
 the old, dirty, low, dilapidated, Irish town of Blarney, which, 
 for situation and surroundings, is as beautiful as every place in 
 Ireland can't help being. Blarney has been immortalized in 
 song by Millikin, Croker, and old, peculiar Father Prout. 
 
 A ride of two miles, and we are at the grounds of the castle 
 itself. It was built in the fifteenth century by Cormac McCar- 
 thy, or possibly by the Countess of Desmond, and became the 
 home of the famous family of McCarthys. It is now a magnifi- 
 cent old ruin, well situated near a little lake, and surrounded 
 by grand old trees. Admission to the premises is readily 
 gained, as the grounds are open to the public free, such small, 
 Optional fee being given to the guide as the tourist may incline 
 
 to ]>T- 
 
 The castle consists mainly of the massive Donjon Town,
 
 20 IRELAND. 
 
 about forty feet square, and one hundred and ten feet high, and 
 some ruined walls of less height, once part of adjoining apart- 
 ments. Much of the tower and lower walls is completely cov- 
 ered with ivy, and most of the foliage is from twelve to sixteen 
 inches thick. There is a picturesqueness about such a place 
 that is indescribable. The grand and colossal stale on which it 
 is constructed ; the rich greenness of the lawns ; the shade of 
 portions of the immediately adjoining groves ; the sombre hue 
 of the stonework, and the dark green of the mantling ivy ; the 
 gleam of the little lake as discovered through the vistas ; the 
 age of the edifice, so apparent ; the consciousness that this is a 
 veritable ruin, and what is left of an unparalleled splendor of 
 other days, now calm as if resting fixed in its immortality, — 
 these combine to resolve imagination into reality, and produce 
 sensations that are felt, but never transferred from one mortal 
 to another. Perhaps there enters into emotion a suggestion 
 of decline and decay still operating. "The vulgar crowd," 
 as old English expression would put it, are possessed not 
 by the finer aesthetic conditions, but by those more tangible 
 and material. 
 
 The famed Blarney Stone is one of the coping-stones of 
 the outside projecting cornice, near the top of the tower, and 
 resting on large, but plain, stone corbels, or brackets. In 
 appearance from the ground, it is six feet long and eighteen 
 inches thick, and projects two feet or so. Many years ago it 
 appeared to be insecure, and two iron bars were put on the 
 outside, securing it in its position. There are courses of stone 
 upon it, falling back from the front surface, and making a para- 
 pet to the tower. It was over this parapet that persons, head 
 downwards, held and aided by others, performed the task of 
 kissing the stone. A stairway on the inside leads nearly to the 
 top of the tower ; but now, for a more convenient and safe way 
 of performing the operation, another stone, bearing date 1703, 
 is kept within the tower. Its magic is as effectual, while it is 
 reached with comparative safety. 
 
 It is indeed marvellous that a few lines of worse than dog- 
 gerel poetry have materially aided in giving this stone a noto- 
 riety that is world-wide, and which, but for this aid, would 
 hardly have been heard of outside of its neighborhood. It was 
 long a superstitious belief that whoever kissed it would ever 
 after be in possession of such sweet, persuasive, and convincing 
 eloquence as to put the listener entirely under the control of the
 
 BLARNEY CASTLE. 21 
 
 speaker. Rev. Father Prout's allusion to the stone is in part as 
 follows : — 
 
 There is a stone there that whoever kisses, 
 
 Oh! he never misses to grow eloquent; 
 'T is he may clamber to a lady's chamber, 
 
 Or become a member of Parliament. 
 
 A clever spouter he '11 sure turn out, or 
 
 An out and outer, to be let alone ! 
 Don't hope to hinder him or to bewilder him, 
 
 Sure he 's a pilgrim from the Blarney Stone. 
 
 The grounds by which the castle are surrounded were once 
 adorned with statues, bridges, grottos, but all are now gone, 
 and Father Prout deplores the condition as follows : — 
 
 The muses shed a tear, 
 When the cruel auctioneer, 
 With his hammer in his hand to sweet Blarney came. 
 
 Blarney Lake is a beautiful piece of water, set in a charming 
 framework of trees and natural shrubbery, and is about five 
 minutes' walk from the castle. Tradition, handed down through 
 many generations, has it that at certain seasons a herd of white 
 cows come up from the centre of the lake, look admiringly but 
 with a melancholy pleasure on the ruined castle, for a few 
 moments' graze on the lawns near it, and then with a soldierly 
 march retire to their oblivion-like resting-place, there to remain 
 till the time comes next year for their weird and fairy-like visit. 
 Another legend is — and this country abounds with them — 
 that the Earl of Chantry having forfeited the castle, and having 
 had it confiscated and ruined at the Revolution, carried his 
 plate and deposited it in a particular part of the lake, and that 
 three McCarthys, and they only, are in possession of the secret 
 of the place where it was cast in. When either of the three 
 dies, he communicates the intelligence to some other member 
 of the family, and thus the secret is kept, never to be publicly 
 revealed till a McCarthy is again Lord of Blarney. 
 
 Within the castle grounds runs the small River Coman, and 
 on its banks is an old Cromlech, <>r druidical altar ; and there 
 are also a number of pillar-stones, similar to those at Stonehenge, 
 on which are worn inscriptions of ancient Ogham characters. 
 
 Differing as the place did from anything yet seen by us, and 
 
 our anticipations more than fulfilled, we, after a two hours' 
 BOJOUm, reluctantly mounted the jaunting-car and took our way
 
 99 
 
 IRELAND. 
 
 back to Cork. After dining at the Victoria, at half-past three of 
 this same day, we took steam-cars for the town of Killarney ; 
 and here we must speak of the railroads. 
 
 As this was our first experience in travelling on one of them, 
 we may with propriety say something of them once for all ; for 
 one statement applies to railroads, not only in Ireland, England, 
 and Scotland, but in all those parts of Europe where we have 
 travelled. Solid are the roadbeds, not troubled by frosts as ours 
 are. Stone or iron are the bridges, and of the most durable 
 kind, often with brick abutments and arches. Of course, at 
 times, there are the bridges for common roads that pass over 
 them. The substantial tunnels are sometimes miles long. There 
 are well-made grass enbankments, nicely kept. The stations 
 are quite good and cleanly, and there is invariably an exquisite 
 neatness about the outside, where flower-patches and borders 
 are carefully cultivated. The restaurants are poor and unin- 
 viting. Especially is this description true of England. Large 
 and strong engines, on which is an absence of superfluous 
 decorations of brass, or costly-to-keep-clean finish, are univer- 
 sal. The cars, as we say, but coaches as they term them, are of 
 three classes, first, second, and third. The best of them are 
 undesirable to Americans, but submitted to in the absence of 
 those with which they are familiar. 
 
 Prices for travel vary. That of first-class is slightly more per 
 mile than in ours. The second-class is something less, or, on 
 an average, two thirds the cost of ours. Two cents per mile is 
 the usual tariff. Perhaps one quarter of the people ride first- 
 class, and the remainder are about equally divided between the 
 second and third. The first-class are what we may describe as 
 from four to six common mail-stages, built together as one. but 
 wide enough for five persons on each seat. There is a door in 
 the middle, opening on the platforms, and of course half of the 
 passengers must ride backward. This is true also of the other 
 classes, with slight exceptions in some of the cars of Switzerland ; 
 and even these, at their best, make an American homesick, and 
 sigh for those of his native land. A light, or window, in the 
 doors, and a small one at the end of each seat, is the universal 
 rule. Second and third-class cars are nearly alike, save perhaps 
 that there are cushions in the former, while there are none in 
 the latter ; though by no means does the purchase of a second- 
 class ticket ensure cushions. The cars of these classes are 
 straight-sided, like our freight cars, with side doors and small 
 windows like those of the first-class. There are no fires, poor
 
 RAILWAYS. 23 
 
 lights for night travel ; no toilet saloons, nor any conveniences 
 as in ours. Once in, the door is shut by an official, and usually 
 locked till we land at the next station. In the cars of the first two 
 classes the partitions extend from floor to roof, with seats against 
 both sides : but in a few of the third-class there is simply a 
 wide rail for resting the back, or a partition of the same height. 
 When we saw any of these, though having it may be a second- 
 class ticket, we would, to be as homelike as possible, avail our- 
 selves of them. One does not object to second-class passage ; 
 and even the third is far from being as questionable as at first 
 thought, to one unused to travelling, it might seem. It is gen- 
 erally the intensely aristocratic class, of the noli-me-tangere kind, 
 who ride first-class, — or Americans inexperienced in travel. 
 
 Officials are at all stations in abundance. They are ready 
 cheerfully — but in their own way, to be sure — to give any 
 information a traveller may require. In all parts of the Con- 
 tinent over which we journeyed, we had no special trouble in 
 understanding them, or in making them understand us. So 
 many English and Americans travel that the employees soon 
 learn how to reply to the usual questions put to them. A little 
 knowledge, however, of German and of French — as much as 
 applies to common things, and as may with a little exertion be 
 learned from most of the guidebooks — helps the tourist amaz- 
 ingly. As regards the time made by these railroads, we rode 
 on some of them faster than on ours at home, and are justified 
 in saying that their promptness of arrival at stations is incredi- 
 ble. The roads with which we are conversant are in advance 
 of ours in this respect. In but one instance did we find a train 
 late ; and waiting at junctions for other trains was apparently 
 unknown. The conductors are expected to run their trains 
 on time, and they do so unless prevented by accidents. We 
 have been thus minute in stating the facts, as they are sure to 
 be of interest to persons contemplating a journey. 
 
 And now we pursue our way, having left Cork at 3 o'clock p. \t., 
 towards Killarney and its famed lakes, which to us have all the 
 charms of the best Castles in the Air ; for who that has thought 
 of the famous Lakes of Killarney has not fancied something 
 good enough for a place in the neighborhood of Eden in its 
 palmy days? Tickets in first-class cars cost us $2.25 each. 
 After a ride of two hours we arrive at Mallow, and after three 
 hours more, at Killarney. The first look of the town indicates 
 
 a village well shaded with trees, and one is led to anticipate 
 
 anything but the reality.
 
 2 \ IRELAND. 
 
 The houses are built in the usual Irish style, — that is, they are 
 of plastered and whitewashed stone, and the roofs arc thatched. 
 Generally they are not over one story in height, and a low story 
 at that. They stand on crooked and narrow streets — or alleys, 
 rather. There is an absence of cleanliness, and little to sustain 
 distant impressions. One of the things that early attract the 
 tourist's attention is the general poverty of many of the inhabi- 
 tants, their lack of employment and visible means of support. 
 Beggars are bold and used to their calling ; and both they and 
 the swarm of would-be guides are annoying if treated with com- 
 mon civility. There is an ancient look about buildings and 
 people, and we get the suggestion that we see things as they 
 were a century ago. Nothing is new and fresh but the foliage. 
 Everything has the old odor of an ancient place. 
 
 The town has a population of 5,187, exclusive of 400 inmates 
 of the almshouse — one to every thirteen of the population. 
 Killarney is situated about a mile and a half from the nearest of 
 the three lakes. There are two or three streets of some preten- 
 sions, on which are buildings three or four stories high, used as 
 stores and hotels. Our hotel, the Innisfallen House, was kept, 
 as all such small taverns are, by a woman. It was a thoroughly 
 antiquated Irish institution, and for this reason we selected it. 
 Experienced by long years of practice, our hostess was the man 
 of the house, and had an eye to business that would do honor 
 to the manager of the Vendome or the Brunswick at Boston. 
 
 There are few public buildings. The newish Roman Catholic 
 Cathedral is a large structure of limestone, of good early English 
 architecture, built from designs by Pugin. It is hardly in keep- 
 ing with the town as it is, and only the eye of faith can see its 
 harmony with the Killarney of the future. 
 
 Here may be related an incident illustrating a custom which 
 is doubtless a relic of other days. After our visit to the cathe- 
 dral, at about 7 p. m., we were surprised by the sight of a 
 peculiar crowd of people coming up the street we had entered. 
 It was a procession, numbering some hundred or more, carry- 
 ing a coffin to the cathedral. The coffin was oaken, moulded 
 at the top and bottom edges with black, and having three orna- 
 mental, black, iron plates — eight inches square, with rings in 
 them — on each side. Black, round-headed nails ornamented 
 the ends. The coffin was not covered, and rested on the 
 shoulders of six men, three on each side. As by magic, three 
 bearers would occasionally step out, and others take their 
 places. Back of those who headed the procession were two
 
 KILLARNEY. 25 
 
 rows of women, from fifty to seventy years old, with black 
 dresses, and shawls over their heads. These were howling, 
 two or more at a time keeping up the noise ; and thus, with- 
 out break or intermission, there was a continued wailing, in 
 syllables of a slow but measured and distinct utterance, sound- 
 ing like " Ar — ter — ow — ow — ow — er." This was repeated till 
 the perfection of monotony was attained. 
 
 When near the cathedral the procession halted and the 
 wailing ceased. The crowd numbered, it may be, a hundred. 
 Arriving at the side door the coffin was carried in, and about 
 twenty persons, probably the near relatives, entered. The 
 remainder, including the Americans, — who, now " being in Tur- 
 key, were doing as the Turkeys do," — remained outside, and 
 stood or knelt uncovered. In a few moments all was ended ; 
 the friends came out of the cathedral, the crowd dispersed, and 
 " rag, tag, and bobtail " resumed their usual vocations, the dead 
 man having been left in the building, with the approved and 
 requisite number of candles " to light him to glory." 
 
 Turning into another street, another and similar crowd was 
 encountered. This time the coffin was covered with black 
 cloth, but decorated like the other, with mouldings, nails, and 
 iron plates. In five minutes more came another. We were 
 told the bodies were to remain in the cathedral till to-morrow, 
 when mass could be held and they would be buried. This is a 
 custom of the place each evening, and has been continued from 
 time immemorial. It results from bad judgment as to what is a 
 good use of the present, or what is a befitting preparation for the 
 hereafter. It is a type of superstition gone to seed, and shows 
 a love for sitting in " the region and shadow of death." 
 
 Now we ramble over the town, and through some of the well- 
 kept and stone-walled roads. In spite of the condition of the 
 most populous parts, there is a delight and charm in these sub- 
 urbs. In that pleasant evening air, within sound of the vesper 
 bells, enveloped in the general stillness of that village atmo- 
 sphere, there came good and vivid impressions of the antiquity 
 of the place. Without an effort came the remembrance that, 
 through the past centuries, thousands and tens of thousands 
 of sight-seers, poets, historians, and people of great and of small 
 renown, had walked these streets, meditated, used the time as 
 we were doing, and passed on, — their feet never to press this 
 historic soil again, — 
 
 Like the snow-fall in the river, 
 A moment white, then melts forever.
 
 26 IRELAND. 
 
 The next morning we took a jaunting-car, and began our 
 tour of the lakes. A most elegant day it was, like good old 
 George Herbert's Sunday — the "bridal of the earth and sky." 
 Admirable in all respects were the roads and their surround- 
 ings, — a perpetual reminder of worse kept ones at home. W e 
 pass an elegant stone building, the Union Workhouse and County 
 Lunatic Asylum, on the right, leaving the cathedral on our left, 
 and ride on through that lovely scenery. It is not wild or 
 romantic, in the common signification of those words. 
 
 On our right, off in the fields and on elevated ground, are 
 the ruins of Aghadoe, overlooking an immense valley, where 
 reposes — out of sight to us at our left, Lough Leane, the lower 
 and largest of the three celebrated lakes: 
 
 Next, three miles out, are the ruins of Aghadoe castle and 
 church. All that remains are the fragments of a tower thirty 
 or forty feet in height. Of its history, or the date of its founda- 
 tion, no records are extant. The church is a fine ruin, and 
 shows the remains of a long low building, consisting of two 
 chapels, joined at their rear ends. The easterly chapel is in 
 the Gothic style, bearing date a. d. 1158, and is dedicated to the 
 Holy Trinity. Full seven hundred years are gone, more than 
 a third of the Christian era, since that stone pile was placed 
 where it is. The other chapel is older yet, of a rude, Roman- 
 esque architecture, and was built under the patronage of St. 
 Finian. The two are separated by a solid wall, through which 
 there was once a communication, closed up long before the 
 vacating and destruction of the building. The roof and wood- 
 work being gone, nothing but stone remains. The two chapels, 
 extending to the east and west, are eighty feet long and twenty 
 feet wide. 
 
 Continuing our ride a mile farther, we turn to the left, and 
 pass the Aghadoe House, — a fine and well-kept estate, the 
 residence of the Dowager Lady Headley. Next, we turn sharp 
 to the right, and are at the estate of James O'Connell, Esq., 
 brother of the late distinguished agitator, Daniel O'Connell. 
 Continuing, we pass the Killalee House, and the ruins of its 
 church. Six and a half miles now from Killarney, we have on 
 our left, the elegant estate of Beaufort House. 
 
 We cross the little River Laune, which is filled with surplus 
 water from the small, or upper lake, and here appears to view 
 Dunloe Castle, the seat of Daniel Mahoney, Esq. The build- 
 ing has a modern look, and was originally the residence of the 
 powerful and noted O'Sullivan Mor. We must not fail to
 
 RIDE TO THE LAKES. 27 
 
 notice the Cave of Dunloe. It is situated in a field some dis- 
 tance off, is of great antiquity, and was discovered in 183S. It 
 contains peculiar stones, which are presumed to belong to an 
 ancient Irish library ; and, strange to say, the books are the 
 large stones composing the roof. Their angles contain the 
 writings, which are simple, short, vertical lines, arranged, tally-like, 
 above and below a horizontal one. Special numbers or com- 
 binations of these lines designate letters. It is the Ogham 
 alphabet. 
 
 We are now near the cottage of the celebrated Kate Kearney, 
 whom Moore has immortalized in his "Sweet Innisfallen," — 
 
 " Kate Kearney, 
 Who lives on the banks of Killarney." 
 
 The house is solitary, and stands on the left of the roadside, 
 with high hills about it. It is but one story high, and is some 
 forty feet long, and twenty wide. It is made of stone, plastered 
 and whitewashed, has a thatched roof, and is occupied by the 
 reputed granddaughter of the famous Kate, and of course she 
 bears the same name. On our arrival, she appeared at her 
 door as usual — an old woman of sixty years, of small stature. 
 She wore a short dress, heavy shoes, the inevitable kerchief, 
 or miniature shawl, folded diamond-ways over her shoulders, 
 and a frilled white muslin cap on her head. She held a mug 
 in one hand, and a common wine bottle in the other, with 
 glass tumbler to match. She poured out the goat's milk, and 
 then naively, with an almost young-maidenly tone of voice, 
 asked : " And will ye not have put into it a drop of the moun- 
 tain dew?" We must, though total abstinence men, run a 
 bit of risk now, to do all that curious tourists do, so we said 
 Yes. A drop or two mingled with the milk, when the thought 
 instantly came that at home the dew would have been so like 
 whiskey that we could n't convince ourselves it was not, and so 
 we cried " Hold ! Enough ! " She held, and it 7e>as enough. 
 A shilling was presented ; but no, she had done business too 
 long, and her distinguished grandmother before her, to be out- 
 generalled by Yankees, and so came a demand for more, which 
 was refused. Her maiden-like demure condition changed, and 
 we left, thinking discretion and valor were synonymous terms ; 
 and she, probably of the same opinion, retired to try her luck 
 with the next coiner that way. 
 
 And dow we enter the Gap of Dunloe, one of the notable 
 places of Ireland. It is a narrow, wild, and romantic mountain
 
 28 IRELAND. 
 
 pass, between highlands known as Macgillicuddy's Reeks on the 
 right, and Purple Mountain on the left. The length of the pass 
 is about four miles, and the road is circuitous and hilly. At 
 the side, and at times crossing it, is a narrow stream called the 
 Loe, at as many places expanded into five small lakes, or pools. 
 The mountain-sides are rocky and often precipitous, and the 
 road is here and there little more than a cart-path, winding 
 right and left romantically between these hills, from which 
 echoes finely the sound of our voices, or the bugle blown or 
 the musket fired by peasants for the tourists' amusement. The 
 journey is one thrillingly interesting, and about the only one of 
 the kind that can be made on the island. 
 
 One of the five lakes, each of which has a name, is called 
 Black Lough ; and it is in this — a basin some one hundred feet 
 long and thirty feet wide, with walls of stone, partially filled with 
 a dark water — that St. Patrick is said to have banished the last 
 snake. The guides have the story at their tongue's end, and 
 glibly relate it in a schoolboy-like fashion, never tripping, nor 
 leading one to so much as surmise that they have not told the 
 story before. 
 
 The team takes us but a short distance into the gap, and we 
 avail ourselves of animals called horses, who are ever on hand 
 for the purpose. The guides owning them have followed us for a 
 mile or more, in spite of our protestations, acting as though they 
 knew we should hire their beasts, although we had with busi- 
 ness-like earnestness told them that we thought we would walk. 
 These animals were of a doubtful nature, that would confuse 
 Darwin. They were either high-grade mules with short ears, 
 or low-grade horses with long ones. We finally agreed with 
 the owners, paying fifty cents each for the what-is-its, the guides 
 engaging to take the animals back when we were done with 
 them. 
 
 Emerging from the gap we come out at the Black Valley 
 stretching away to our left, and hemmed in, amphitheatre-like, 
 by the base of the hills. The first view of this sombre moor 
 reminds one of the heath-pictures in " Macbeth." Kohl says of 
 it : " Had there been at the bottom, among the rugged masses 
 of black rock, some smoke and flame instead of water, we might 
 have imagined we were looking into the infernal regions." We 
 ride down a winding road in the great amphitheatre, and along 
 to its extremity, and are at the end of our journey with the 
 horses ; and now we are to walk a half-mile through a footpath, 
 over fields and through pleasant groves, to the once fine garden
 
 THE LAKES. 29 
 
 and present ruins of Lord Brandon's Cottage. Here, we are 
 at the upper lake ; and our boatmen, by arrangement of the 
 hostess at Innisfallen House, were there awaiting our arrival at 
 i p. m. They had, as usual, gone direct from Killarney to the 
 lower lake, and had rowed over that and the two others to this 
 point, having made, in reversed order, the tour over the lakes 
 we are to take. 
 
 At 1.30 p. m., Thursday, April 25, we are in the row-boat with 
 our two oarsmen, starting from the shore of the upper lake which 
 is the smallest of the three, — a sheet of water two and a half miles 
 long, three fourths of a mile wide, and covering 430 acres, being 
 about two thirds as large as the middle lake, and only a little more 
 than a twelfth as large as the lower one. And here we must say, 
 what of choice we would not say, that in most instances, where the 
 imagination has free play, realities do not fulfil anticipations. 
 
 The fulsome and unqualified praises which have been be- 
 stowed on these really beautiful and justly celebrated lakes 
 incline one to expect too much, and to overestimate their 
 sublimity. This element, so ever present on the lakes of Scot- 
 land, is here often lacking. There is, however, a cleanliness in 
 the remarkably irregular outline of their shores, and a beautiful 
 decoration made by varying tinted and luxuriant vegetation, 
 that largely compensates for a lack of vast boldness, and of great 
 and precipitous rocky walls ; and enough mountain views are 
 in the near distance to give the scenery a majestic appearance, 
 at times even grand in general effect. The heavy woodlands, 
 with here and there a craggy cliff, as at the Eagle's Nest, com- 
 bine to produce a charm not found about ordinary lakes. Yet 
 it must in justice be said that our Lake George, and parts of 
 Winnepiseogee, are their equals. 
 
 The upper lake, at its westerly end, contains twelve islands, 
 which in the aggregate cover six acres, — none of them, how- 
 ever, containing more than one acre, and some of them less than 
 a quarter of one. McCarthy's is the one first reached. Arbu- 
 tus is another, and the largest in the lake. It takes its name 
 from the shrub, arbutus unendo. The leaves are a glossy green, 
 and so arranged at the cuds of the branches, that the waxen, 
 flesh like blossoms, as they hang in graceful racemes, or the 
 later crimson fruit, seem embraced by a mantle of the richest 
 verdure. All the islands abound in ivy, and the rocks and trees 
 are often thoroughly bedecked with it. This lake is surely 
 the finest of the three, and is so mainly from the fad of its 
 having these islands and the great irregularity of the shore.
 
 30 IRELAND. 
 
 embellished by the beautiful accompanying foliage. Being 
 more immediately in the vicinity of the highlands, it has much 
 of stern mountain effect and grandeur. From some points of 
 view this little sheet of water appears to be entirely land-locked. 
 Towards the lower end it becomes narrow, and is only a strip 
 of water half a mile long. This is called Newfoundland Bay. 
 On from this it is a yet narrower stream, varying from thirty to 
 one hundred feet wide, and two miles long, which is the con- 
 necting part with the middle lake. To add a fascination, and 
 intensify the interest of the tourist, every rock of respectable 
 dimensions, and every island or cove, has its high-sounding 
 name ; for we pass Coleman's Eye, the Man of War, the Four 
 Friends. We now arrive at the Eagle's Nest, a craggy formation 
 700 feet above the water, in the rugged clefts of which the eagle 
 builds its eyrie. The young birds are taken from the nest be- 
 tween the middle of June and the first of July, and the rocks 
 are so precipitous that the nests are only reached by means of 
 ropes let down from above. 
 
 The echoes from this and the surrounding rocks are very fine, 
 and we hear them grandly repeated from hilltop to hilltop — ■ 
 ever continued, and passed on with a clearly perceptible interval, 
 till, weaker and weaker by their long, rough travel, they grow 
 fainter, and at last melt away in some unknown cavern, or, as 
 it were, infinitely distant glen, and are lost in the great realm of 
 nothingness from whence they came. 
 
 Continuing on, we reach a fairy- like place, the Meeting of 
 Waters, where our river, arriving at the middle lake, glides to 
 the left around the end of Dinish Island, which reaches from, 
 and is bounded by, this and the lower lake. Now we are at the 
 Old Weir Bridge, very antiquated, — consisting of two unequal 
 arches, through which the water rushes with great earnestness 
 and force. The boatmen do nothing but guide the boat, and it 
 is a moment of intense interest to the novice, as we dash under 
 one of the arches. Soon we are in the middle, or, as it is called, 
 the Mucross, or Tore Lake. 
 
 This contains 680 acres, or forty more than a square mile. The 
 principal islands are the Dinish and the Brickeen, and these are 
 in fact the side and end walls, or the dividing barrier between it 
 and the lower lake. There are three passages between them. 
 This lake is oblong and narrow. In a line nearly straight we pass 
 to the high, Gothic, single-arched bridge connecting it with the 
 lower lake. Brickeen contains 19 acres, and is twenty or more 
 feet up from the lake, and well wooded. Dinish is also well
 
 THE LAKES. 31 
 
 wooded. It contains 34 acres, and is a sort of watering-place. 
 It has a small, rough, rustic stone wharf; also a cottage-hotel 
 with pleasure-grounds ; and by making previous arrangements 
 dinner may be had. 
 
 Our provident hostess, having an eye to our comfort and 
 another to her income, had sent by the boatmen a basket of 
 luncheon, and so we dined on the lake itself, and not on the 
 shore of it. Of the beauty of Tore Lake much may be said. It 
 has a charm peculiarly its own. Shut in with a considerably 
 uniform wall-work of islands, it is an immense pool of clear 
 water, in which the overhanging shrubbery is finely reflected. 
 Its air of repose and quiet beauty makes it of interest to 
 persons of a retiring nature, and those to whom the vastness of 
 mountain scenery does not so pleasantly appeal. 
 
 We now pass under the great Gothic arch of Brickeen Bridge, 
 and are in Lough Leane, or the lower lake. It has an area of 
 five thousand acres, being five miles long, and three wide, with 
 a very irregular shore, comprising, high and low lands, coves 
 and inlets, a few mountain recesses, and a great variety of 
 pleasing scenery. Its islands are thirty in number, few of 
 which, however, measure more than an acre in extent. The 
 largest are Rabbit Island, of more than twelve acres, and Innis- 
 fallen, of twenty-one acres. Many of them have a fancied 
 resemblance to particular things, and so are named Lamb, 
 Elephant, Gun, Horse, Crow, Heron, Stag. The chief beauties 
 of this great sheet of water are its generally placid surface, 
 the mountains bordering it on the south and west, and its 
 unlikeness to either of the others, in its low lands, and its 
 estates stretching off to the north and east. It abounds in 
 quiet nooks, bays, and inlets, breaking its margin ; and the 
 barren rocks on one side contrast finely with the verdure of 
 the shore on the other. 
 
 Sir Walter Scott has given a magic charm to Loch Katrine by 
 reciting its legends ; but, had he been so disposed, he could 
 have given a like halo to these lakes, for legends of O'Donoghue 
 and of the McCarthys abound, and supply such romantic mate- 
 rials as few countries can boast. As a sample we quote but 
 one : — 
 
 Once in seven years, on a fine morning, before the sun's rays 
 have begun to disperse the mist from the bosom oi the lake, 
 O'Donog lue comes riding over it on an elegant snowwhite horse, 
 with fairies hovering about him, and strewing his path with (low- 
 ers. As he approaches his ancient residence, everything resolves
 
 32 IRELAND. 
 
 itself into its original condition and magnificence ; the castle 
 itself, banquet halls, library, his prison, and his pigeon house, are 
 as they were in the olden time. Any one who desires, and is 
 courageous enough to follow him over the lake, may cross even the 
 deepest parts dry-looted, and ride with him into the caves of the 
 adjoining mountains, where his treasures are deposited and con- 
 cealed : and the daring visitor will receive a liberal gift for his 
 company and venture, but before the sun has arisen, and in the 
 early twilight, O'Donoghue recrosses the water, and vanishes amid 
 the ruins of the castle, to be seen no more till the next seven years 
 have expired. 
 
 The part of the lake first entered is called Glena Bay, and as 
 the opposite shore, some three miles away, is low, the distant 
 surface of the lake seems to melt into the horizon, producing an 
 effect not made by either of the other lakes. Here on the little 
 bay's shore is the picturesque cottage of Lady Kenmare ; and 
 in the woods and highlands, which for a couple and more miles 
 bound the western shore of the lake, are red deer, and the 
 place was once a famous hunting-ground. 
 
 We pursue our course, not stopping at O'Sullivan's Cascade, 
 a waterfall consisting of three sections, situated a short distance 
 back in the forest ; nor do we go over to Innisfallen Island, 
 distant but two miles to our left and in full view, though it is 
 remarkably interesting on account of historical associations. 
 
 Of all the islands of the lakes it is the most picturesque and 
 beautiful. It contains glades and lawns, thickets of flowering 
 shrubs and evergreens, with an abundance of arbutus and hol- 
 lies of great size and beauty, and also oak and ash trees of 
 magnificent foliage and growth. Innisfallen contains about 
 twenty-one acres, and commands one of the most desirable and 
 lovely views of the entire lake and surrounding mountain scen- 
 ery. The most interesting object on it, however, is the grand 
 ruin of the ancient abbey, founded in the year 600, by St. 
 Finian. 
 
 In this celebrated place the strange and interesting " Annals 
 of Innisfallen " were composed. They contain fragments of the 
 Old Testament, and a compendious, though not very valuable, 
 annual history down to the time of St. Patrick, and one more 
 perfect from the fourth to the fourteenth century. The origi- 
 nals, written more than five hundred years ago, are now in the 
 Bodleian Library at Oxford. A translation of this work has been 
 repeatedly attempted, but has never been far enough advanced 
 to issue from the press. The Annals are a special record of
 
 THE LAKES. 33 
 
 Munster, but are filled with a dry record of great crimes and 
 their punishment, wars, lists of princes and clergy, and elaborate 
 accounts of the disputes and violent deaths of the ancient kings 
 of Kerry. They record that in 1 180, seven hundred years ago, 
 the abbey was the place of securest deposit for all the gold and 
 silver, and the rare and rich goods of the country ; that it was 
 plundered by Mildwin, son of Daniel O'Donoghue, as was also 
 the church of Ardfert ; and that many persons were slain in 
 the cemetery of the McCarthys. 
 
 In parting, the temptation is resistless to quote the lines of 
 Moore relating to this renowned and beautiful place : — 
 
 Sweet Innisfallen, fare thee well, 
 May calm and sunshine long be thine ; 
 How fair thou art, let others tell, 
 While but to feel how fair be mine. 
 
 Sweet Innisfallen, long shall dwell 
 In memory's dream that sunny smile, 
 Which o'er thee, on that evening fell, 
 When first I saw thy fairy isle. 
 
 We next pass on towards our place of landing. Before us 
 and not far off is Ross Island, situated on the eastern shore of 
 the lake. It is not really an island, but a peninsula, which at 
 times of high water, however, is difficult to reach without cross- 
 ing a bridge. The place has a finished look, having good lawns 
 and many well-kept avenues and walks. In 1804 a copper 
 mine was opened on it, and for a time afforded a large quantity 
 of rich ore. Croker asserts that during the four years it was 
 worked, $400,000 worth of ore was disposed of at Swansea, at 
 a valuation of $200 per ton, and he informs us that " several 
 small veins of oxide of copper split off the main lode and ran 
 towards the surface. The ore of these veins was much more 
 valuable than the other, and consequently the miners — who 
 were paid for the quality as well as quantity — opened the 
 smaller veins so near the surface that water broke through into 
 the mine, in such an overwhelming degree that an engine of 
 thirty-horse power could make no impression on the inunda- 
 tion." The work was then abandoned. No doubt exists that 
 these mines had been worked in times of antiquity, perhaps 
 by the Danes; for while working them in 1804, rude stone 
 hammers were found, and other unequivocal proofs of pre- 
 occupation at an early time. 
 
 Ross Castle is a commanding and conspicuous object, stand- 
 ing isolated near the shore, on comparatively level land. It is 
 
 3
 
 o4 IRELAND. 
 
 visible from almost every part of the lake. This castle is gen- 
 erally visited from the land, and is less than two miles from the 
 town of KUlarney. Though now in ruins, it has a massive 
 
 square tower and appendages of considerable size, and is of 
 pleasing outline. The dark stone walls, are in good preserva- 
 tion, and well decorated with ivy, which gives the ruin a most 
 stately, yet romantic and picturesque effect. 
 
 The grounds are well kept, and are free to the public ; 
 though a small optional fee is in order to the lass who comes 
 out of her cottage near by, unlocks the door of the great tower, 
 and, with a tongue not very glib, tells what little she knows of 
 local history. The castle was built by the O'Donoghues, and 
 was long occupied by that celebrated family. In 1652 it was 
 well defended ; at the Revolution it held out long against the 
 English invaders, and was the last one in Munster to surrender. 
 On the 26th of July of that year Lord Muskerry, then holding a 
 commission of colonel under the Irish, being hard pushed, 
 occupied the castle, and defended himself against Lord Ludlow ; 
 and it was not until he brought vessels of war (in history called 
 shifts) by the lake, that the surrender was made. An old legend 
 existed, — and legends are powerful for good or for ill, — that 
 Ross Castle was impregnable till ships of war attacked it. 
 These were brought, it may be, to take advantage of the super- 
 stition. When they were in view, the heart of the inmates of 
 the fortress failed ; they were paralyzed with superstitious fear, 
 and could not be induced to strike another blow. Lord 
 Ludlow, in his Memoirs, thus tells the story : — 
 
 We had received our boats [these were probably the ships\ 
 each of which was capable of containing one hunched and twenty 
 men. I ordered one of them to be rowed about the water, in order 
 to find out the most convenient place for landing upon the enemy, 
 which they perceiving, thought fit, by timely submission, to prevent 
 the danger threatened them. 
 
 After the surrender five thousand Munster men laid down 
 their arms, and Lord Broghill, who had accompanied Ludlow, 
 received a grant- of ^1,000 ($5,000) yearly out of the estate of 
 Lord Muskerry, the defender of the castle. 
 
 We have ended our tour over the lakes, and have visited 
 these justly celebrated ruins, and are now ready for a walk of 
 three quarters of an hour to our hotel at Killarney. To say 
 that we enjoyed the day, even beyond our most sanguine an- 
 ticipations, would not overcolor the picture. The drive of
 
 THE LAKES. 35 
 
 the morning through that sublime old scenery, to us so new ; 
 the ever fresh and pleasing emotions continually awakened ; the 
 romantic ride through the Gap of Dunloe, where the mountains 
 are so near us, and we so near them ; Kate's cottage ; the 
 Inferno-like look of the Black Valley ; the walk to the upper 
 lake, and the fairy-like sail over its waters, — all these recol- 
 lections are enough for one day. At 6 p. m., as the sun de- 
 clined, and the mellow tints of its evening rays were thrown 
 aslant the waters, we wended our way home. Yet were we not 
 entirely content, but must make one more tour, this time to 
 Muckross Abbey.
 
 36 IRELAND. 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 MUCKROSS ABBEY — LIMERICK — DUBLIN. 
 
 THE time for visiting Muckross Abbey is most auspicious, 
 the sun being still above the horizon ; and the approach- 
 ing tranquillity befits a trip of the kind. The ruins we 
 have before inspected have been castles, or fort-like struc- 
 tures, designed as a home for some royal family, yet sufficiently 
 strong and impregnable to ward off the attacks of a formidable 
 enemy. What we are now to see is not a place designed for 
 ease, comfort, and defence against ill conditions in this life, but 
 rather to ensure pleasure and safety in the life to come. 
 
 The spot is about five miles from Killamey, and owned by 
 Mr. Herbert, a gentleman held in the highest esteem by rich 
 and poor. There is a neat gate-lodge, beyond which the 
 visitor finds gratuitous admission at any hour before 6 P. M. ; 
 after that, and properly enough, a shilling is due to the gate- 
 keeper. Our team left outside the gate, we pass through a 
 grand avenue, and soon opens to view one of the finest and 
 most enchanting mediaeval ruins to be found in Ireland, — 
 exquisitely interesting in every part, and beyond the power of 
 any one to adequately describe. The ruins are on a large knoll, 
 surrounded by trees, conspicuous among which is the yew. These 
 trees are formed much like large cedars, and resemble them in 
 general outline ; but the foliage is dark-green, so dark as at first 
 sight to appear almost black. The branches are very large, and 
 spread out into fiat or fan-like masses, to near the ground. 
 
 The abbey was founded in 1140, and is now 742 years old. 
 As we examine it, and more especially an ancient yew-tree, sur- 
 rounded by the cloisters, known to have been there for more than 
 600 years, we are deeply impressed with the thought that we 
 are communing with things relating to long past generations. It 
 had its last repairs in 1602, was soon after abandoned, and is 
 now without a roof, but is otherwise in good preservation. The 
 ruins are very large and varied. They consist of both an abbey 
 and a church. The cloisters belong to the former, and form a 
 stone colonnade, some ten feet wide, connected by the arches
 
 MUCKROSS ABBEY. 37 
 
 with the open-to-the-sky area, some seventy-five feet square, in 
 the centre of which stands the venerable yew already mentioned. 
 
 In the retirement and obscurity of these cloisters, walked and 
 meditated and prayed hundreds, — and in the large aggregate 
 of years it may be thousands, — to whom no other spot on the 
 broad earth was, in their judgment, so good and befitting for 
 their pious purpose. Here for centuries piety intensified, was 
 transformed into superstition, germinated, blossomed, and fruited. 
 
 The different rooms of the abbey are still in good preserva- 
 tion, the entire structure being of masonry. The kitchen, with 
 its immense fireplace, appears as it was centuries ago ; and a 
 little room about six feet square in one of the towers, and open- 
 ing out of the kitchen, was occupied for eleven years as a 
 sleeping-room by the hermit, John Drake, a hundred or more 
 years ago. His patriarchal demeanor and solemn yet cheerful 
 aspect obtained for him a people's veneration, and his piety and 
 general seclusion excited general interest. To this day he is 
 spoken of with scarcely less esteem than would be one of the 
 early monks of the abbey itself. The floors of the rooms in the 
 second story, the building being roofless, are well overgrown 
 with the finest lawn grass. As one walks thoughtfully up the 
 narrow, winding, stone stairs, into the dormitory, hospital, lava- 
 tory and other apartments, — in all but few in number, — the 
 solid and venerable walls, the open sky above him, and the 
 green grass (emblematic of human life in its best estate) be- 
 neath his feet, — under the influence of these, in spite of himself 
 he becomes absorbed in meditation, and holds communion with 
 those who lived and labored here centuries ago, and at length 
 passed on to " the house appointed for all the living." 
 
 Reluctantly we left the abbey, and walked through the an- 
 tique passage-ways and cramped stone stairway down into the 
 church, where, in the midst of singular beauty, were the un- 
 welcome evidences of inevitable decay. Here are the roofless 
 walls of the nave, choir, and transept ; here are windows elegant 
 in design, with their stone traceries yet perfect. In places, the 
 friendly, sombre ivy is spread, like a kind mantle of charity, 
 covering defects of broken wall, and disguising the empty place 
 of some fallen stone. 
 
 " How old all material is," we instinctively say ; and yet 
 how new the results of labor,— the vine, the shrub, the tire. 
 How velvety and carpet-like is the grass on parts of this very 
 ll'v.r. once pressed by tin- toil-worn, blistered tret of pious 
 penance-doers, and even now a place of deposit lor thru
 
 38 IRELAND. 
 
 mouldering bodies. Instead of desk or altar or font, of kingly 
 >tall or peasant's seat, are ancient mural stones. Here are 
 monuments, the outward tokens of reverence and respect for 
 the blue blood of royalty, or the saintship of those who hun- 
 dreds of years ago — their work done, the checkered scenes of 
 life over — went down to the "silent mansions of the dead." 
 
 In the piscina, in the lavatory, in the place for sacred vessels, 
 the swallow unscared builds its nest ; and along the altar-steps the 
 li/.ard crawls, or basks in the sunshine unalarmed. Here sleep 
 in their low, common — and yet uncommon — resting-places, 
 they of the old dispensation, side by side with men of the new. 
 O'Sullivan, O'Donohue, Mc'Carthy — nobles and kings of ] Mini- 
 ster, before whom the multitude trembled and reverentially 
 bowed — mingle their dust with nineteenth-century leaders. 
 
 An incident, showing a notable instance of faithfulness in the 
 performance of an agreement, may be related. At the time of 
 the surrender of these ruins, it was stipulated that, in considera- 
 tion of the fact of their being the repository of dust so peculiar 
 and sacred, no Protestant should ever be buried within these 
 walls ; and while it would otherwise have been the choice of 
 the late owner of the premises — Mr. Herbert the elder, Mem- 
 ber of Parliament for Kerry and Chief Secretary of Ireland — to 
 be here buried, this was not done. On elevated grounds outside 
 the abbey precincts, a very large, ornamental, mediaeval, gran- 
 ite cross was erected by subscription of both Catholics and 
 Protestants as a mark of love and esteem for him whom they 
 call " One of the best of men." 
 
 Muckross Abbey Mansion, not far away, the seat of H. A. 
 Herbert, Esq., the present owner of the grounds, is a fine stone 
 building, of Elizabethan architecture. We knew of the Tore 
 Cascade not far off; but as darkness had imperceptibly come 
 upon us, and we were informed that little water was then pass- 
 ing over the fall, we did not go there, but listened to a descrip- 
 tion from our guide, who told us that the waters are precipitated 
 in a sheet of splendid foam over a ledge of rocks, breaking into 
 mist and spray ; that the volume of water then resumes its hur- 
 ried course through a deep ravine, narrow and irregular, through 
 groups of fir and pine trees, and at last crosses the beautiful 
 pleasure-grounds, till it falls into Muckross Lake. 
 
 At no time shall we probably have a more appropriate place 
 to speak of the mountains of Ireland ; and, at the risk of being 
 charged with digression, we make the venture. Ireland is not 
 a prairie-like country ; yet, though for the most parts hilly and
 
 LIMERICK. 39 
 
 undulatory, it cannot be called mountainous. In this vicinity are 
 the principal mountains of the Emerald Isle. It was for a Jong 
 time thought that Mangerton, of the Macgillicuddy's Reeks, was 
 the highest peak in Ireland, but a late survey makes Carrantual, 
 of the same range, the highest. They are respectively 2,756 
 and 3,414 feet high. For the aid of those who may not be able 
 to judge heights readily, yet are familiar with our New England 
 mountains, we will say that the Grand Monadnock, at Jaffrey, 
 N. H., is 3,186 feet high, and the Wachusett, at Princeton, 
 Mass., 2,018 feet. The distance from Muckross to the summit 
 of Carrantual is not far from five miles. The ascent is easy, 
 and may be made with horses. Four miles from Muckross is 
 what is called the Devil's Punch Bowl, a tarn or mountain lake, 
 2.206 feet above the level of the sea, and more than two thousand 
 feet above the surface of the lakes, they being not far from two 
 hundred feet above sea-level. It is an ovalish basin contain- 
 ing about twenty-eight acres, being two thirds the size of 
 Boston Common, the latter having within its fence lines an area 
 of a few feet over forty-three and three fourths acres. On all 
 sides of the tarn are shelving cliffs. History has it that C. J. 
 Fox swam entirely around it in 1772. Purple Mountain, oppo- 
 site Macgillicuddy's Reeks, with the Gap of Dunloe between, is 
 somewhat lower than these, but we have not the figures of its 
 elevation. After our visit to the abbey, we returned to the 
 hotel — in name only, Innisfallen — and remained over night. 
 Having breakfasted, valise in hand we wended our way back 
 through the village streets to the railroad station, and took 
 passage to Limerick. 
 
 " And sure," says the reader, " that is another Irish city, and 
 no mistake," and you are right. Our ride was exceedingly 
 pleasant. The country was at its best, so far as vegetation was 
 concerned, — especially its grass, for cattle-raising is the gen- 
 eral farm occupation of the people. Here and there was a 
 patch of potatoes, but no fruit-trees, and few good vegetable 
 gardens. There were no stone walls or fences ; if there were 
 any land divisions they were hedges, and few at that. 
 
 The more one travels in foreign countries, the more he is 
 convinced of the lolly of so much fence-work as we have on 
 New England tanas. It is a waste of labor ami material, an 
 abuse of the ground itself, and a loss of the land, usually un- 
 cultivated, lying close against the partitions; and. in addition, 
 the shade is objectionable. Of course some divisions are needed ; 
 but many of them exist, as a necessity, only in the farmer's
 
 40 IRELAND. 
 
 imagination. There are but few New England farms where a 
 large amount of labor and time are not worse than wasted in 
 repairs of cross walls, set up by our fathers and grandfathers, 
 
 which would be used to a much better purpose if employed in 
 their demolition. 
 
 LIMERICK. 
 
 After a ride of five hours, having on the way passed back 
 through Mallow, we arrived in Limerick, where we took rooms 
 at the Royal George Hotel. Valises deposited, and the usual 
 toilet operations gone through with, we walk out to see this 
 place, so like Cork and Dublin. Limerick is the capital of the 
 county of Limerick. It is on a narrow arm of the sea, or mouth 
 of the River Shannon, with a population of 49,670. It con- 
 sists of an English town, built on an island of the Shannon, and 
 also an Irish one ; and it has a suburb called Newton Perry, on 
 the left bank of the river. These three portions are connected by 
 five bridges, one of which, the Wellesley Bridge, cost $425,000. 
 
 We were pleasantly surprised with the appearance of the place, 
 with the cleanness of the streets, and their good pavements, 
 and the general order and substantial condition of all we 
 saw. We speak now of the English portion, which is in fact 
 the larger and principal division of the place. The surface 
 is level, and the buildings are mostly of dark-colored brick. 
 They are generally three or four stories high, without decoration, 
 save simple brick cornices and arched doorways to the houses. 
 There are solid and plainly finished fronts to the stores. The 
 streets are of strikingly uniform appearance, presenting only 
 here and there anything to attract notice. It has its slums 
 like Cork ; but of these we need not speak now. 
 
 We next begin our walk to the cathedral, for this was the first 
 of the cathedrals we had reached. The greater part of the 
 edifice, as it now stands, was built during the twelfth and thir- 
 teenth centuries, and so is six hundred years old. We readily 
 found it, and came to one of the iron gates leading to the burial- 
 ground in front of it. The dark and antiquated look of the old, 
 massive structure impressed us favorably, and touched the right 
 chord. We had seen castles and abbeys in fine ruin, but they 
 belonged to a dead past. We were hungering for something 
 ancient in which the living present was playing its part, and 
 nothing feeds this hunger so well as a cathedral, especially 
 those that, at the Reformation, passed over from Catholicism to 
 Protestantism, as this has done.
 
 LIMERICK. 41 
 
 After demonstrations at the iron gate the verger soon appeared, 
 coming from the cathedral tower some hundred or more feet 
 away. This burial-ground is the principal way of access to the 
 cathedral, and has good walks from the gates to the edifice. 
 The entire ground, perhaps a half-acre in extent, is neat and 
 well kept, and has many ancient-looking gravestones and low 
 slab-monuments. Our verger was a portly man of some sixty 
 years, a master of the situation. An adept at the business, he 
 soon understood our case and our nationality, and we thought 
 we understood him. Both parties being in good humor and 
 knowing their business, we proceeded from point to point over 
 the edifice, he all the time trying to earn his fee of a shilling 
 each, and we aiding him as best we could, by seeming to pay 
 respectful attention, yet doing as much thinking outside of his 
 thoughts as we chose, and in our own way. 
 
 The cathedral is large and imposing to view from the outside, 
 irregular in outline, and antique-looking in the extreme. It is 
 built of a dark-dinged, brownish colored stone, and is of Gothic 
 architecture. It has a tower one hundred and twenty feet high, 
 but no spire above it. At the time of our visit the building was 
 under process of extensive restorations of the interior. 
 
 There are many ancient monuments in the various parts of 
 the building, some of them centuries old. It would be interest- 
 ing to allude freely to them, but our limits will not permit. One 
 illustration must suffice, and that is quoted for its simplicity and 
 quaintness. It was read off by our guide with a promptness 
 and precision, both of words and declamation, that suggested 
 familiarity, and that we were by no means the first who had 
 heard it. 
 
 Memento Mory 
 
 Here Lieth Littell Samvell 
 
 Barington that great vnder 
 
 taker of famiovs cittis 
 
 Clock and chims maker 
 
 he made his one time goe 
 
 brly and latter bvt now 
 
 he is retvrned to god his cre 
 
 ATOR 
 
 The 19 of November then he 
 Scf.st AND to HIS memory 
 This HERE is 11. EAST BY HIS 
 
 Son Ben 1693. 
 
 After ,-i good examination of the venerable edifice and its 
 appendages below, we ascended the tower, our verger accom-
 
 42 IRELAND. 
 
 panying, — for which an extra shilling each must be paid. From 
 here we had an admirable view of the city ; but nothing seen 
 from above, or inside the cathedral below, interested us more 
 than the chime of bells in the tower. Wherever the English 
 language is spoken, these bells receive honorable mention, for 
 it is these to which reference is made in that plaintive but 
 sweet poetry, — and who has not sympathized with its senti- 
 ment ? — 
 
 " Those evening bells, those evening bells, 
 How many a tale their music tells." 
 
 There are eight of them, each hung with a wheel to aid its 
 ringing. Four of them are old, and the others comparatively 
 new. The largest weighs about three thousand pounds. 
 
 Having said something in regard to the business part of the 
 city and cathedral, we next take a look at other parts of the 
 former, and consider a few items of history. Newton Perry, the 
 new section, contains wide streets and promenades, and on these 
 are fine residences of wealthy inhabitants, many of whom are 
 merchants doing business in the city proper, which we will now 
 speak of. George Street, a grand thoroughfare, continues on 
 one side through Richmond Place to the Military Walk, and 
 on the other along Patrick Street, through Rutland Street, to 
 Matthew Bridge — named in honor of Father Matthew, the 
 apostle of Temperance. Henry and Catherine streets are also 
 important. In Perry Square is a column surmounted by a statue 
 to Lord Monteagle, and in Richmond Place there is a bronze 
 statue of Daniel O'Connell. St. John's Cathedral, Roman Cath- 
 olic, completed in i860, is a Gothic edifice, erected at a cost of 
 $85,000. 
 
 The principal industries of 'the place are the manufacture of 
 flax, army-clothing, lace, and gloves. The city carries on an 
 extensive traffic, and, having hundreds of well-stocked stores, 
 it is the wholesale as well as retail market for towns of the 
 vicinity. There is at the border of the city the remains of a 
 castle built in the time of King John, a somewhat dilapidated, 
 but still noble structure. It has seven massive towers, which 
 are connected by a wall of great thickness, and affords an ex- 
 ample of the best Norman strongholds of the country, if not 
 of the world, and inside the castle walls are buildings used as 
 barracks. 
 
 The castle is situated in the Irish part of the city. Here are 
 narrow and unclean streets, and a low grade of population,
 
 LIMERICK. 43 
 
 many of whom live in destitution ; though, so far as degrada- 
 tion is concerned, we found less than in Cork. What struck us 
 forcibly in this section was the number of buildings — one or 
 two, and even three stories high — dilapidated, abandoned, and 
 without roofs. They were the rule and not the exception. 
 There seemed to be a dislike on the part of owners to take 
 down an old house ; but when, in the last extremity, it became 
 absolutely unfit for a day's more occupancy, they preferred to 
 abandon it, and let it tumble down piecemeal. On the floors, 
 in holes in the walls, about the chimneys, weeds were growing, 
 and especially the not inappropriately named snapdragon. Fine 
 specimens of these, of all the usual colors, were in full bloom 
 and growing luxuriantly. 
 
 Having spoken of the Irish and English parts of Ireland, an 
 explanation may be in order. Soon after the union of the two 
 countries at the beginning of the present century, English 
 people of wealth and influence established themselves in the 
 principal cities of Ireland. They built stores and dwelling- 
 houses, and it is safe to say that now two thirds of each large 
 city are occupied by English people, the Irish inhabitants re- 
 maining in their old quarters. This large preponderance of 
 English influence and life gives to Ireland's large cities an 
 English look, and it is only when one enters the Irish part that 
 he feels he is not in an English town. This is notably true of 
 Cork, Limerick, Dublin, and other southern cities ; while Belfast 
 and Londonderry, at the north, have had so much commerce 
 and exchange of thought with Scotland as well as England, as 
 almost to transform their citizens into English people. 
 
 In Limerick may be seen Norman walls and remains in abund- 
 ance, some of them a thousand years old. The harbor is suffi- 
 ciently capacious to accommodate a large amount of shipping, 
 and extends a mile along the river, which has a breadth of four 
 hundred and fifty feet, with here and there a semi-basin or 
 dock. 
 
 Limerick was the last place of Ireland which surrendered to 
 English rule, and only submitted to the Parliamentarians, under 
 Ireton in 165 1, after a determined resistance and gallant de- 
 fence. During a siege in 169 1 a large gun was planted on the 
 top of the cathedral tower, and rendered most effectual service. 
 " Muscular Christianity" was then at a premium. The old city 
 has experienced and withstood many sieges, the last of which 
 were those under Cromwell and William III. After several 
 repulses, William, in 1691, offered advantageous terms to the
 
 44 IRELAND. 
 
 besieged which were accepted by the troops then under the 
 command of Sarsfield, Marl of Lucen, and the surrender was 
 made to General De Ginkle. Part of the treaty was signed here, 
 on a stone now called the Treaty Stone which, for safety and as 
 a monument of interest, is now kept on a pedestal at the end of 
 Thomond Bridge. The treaty guaranteed to Roman Catholics 
 certain religious privileges and rights, and promised amnesty to 
 all who took the oath of allegiance ; but it was afterwards, to the 
 disgrace of the victors, recklessly broken, especially in regard 
 to the points first named, and to this day the place is called 
 " the city of the broken treaty." 
 
 Limerick has from time immemorial been a military seat, 
 and is now the headquarters of the southwest military district. 
 Anciently it was the royal residence of the Irish kings. 
 
 There are within the limits of the city over twenty places of 
 worship. It has many charitable and educational institutions, 
 and much enterprise and business activity. Save the old and 
 slummish portion, which is not of very great extent, and is under 
 comparatively good control, it has a thoroughly English look, 
 or, perhaps we may say, an old American look. We greatly en- 
 joyed our visit, and were happily disappointed ; for our minds 
 were disabused of opinions we before erroneously entertained, 
 and supposed to be true, concerning this famous city. 
 
 DUBLIN. 
 
 At 1.30 p. M., on Friday, April 26, we left for Dublin, and 
 after a ride of four hours reached that city. The landscape 
 on the way was interesting, though not presenting anything 
 very picturesque or romantic. We were, however, continually 
 impressed with the fact that Ireland is well named the Emerald 
 Isle ; for not a bare acre is to be seen, and over hill and dale 
 luxuriant vegetation is found. 
 
 We could but feel sorry that the laws of primogeniture and 
 entailment of property yet prevail, and that England thus de- 
 prives herself and poor Ireland, her disconsolate child, of the 
 rich blessings of an interested and land-loving, as well as soil- 
 working people. The land is owned by a few lords. Estates 
 must be kept entire, and so handed down through the male 
 heirs from generation to generation. No absolute sale is pos- 
 sible, and a homestead can rarely be bought. The farm, be it 
 little or great, cannot be owned by the tiller, but is held by the 
 lord of the domain. An estate may not be divided among his
 
 DUBLIN. 45 
 
 descendants, but must pass to each successive heir in its en- 
 tirety. It cannot be sold to those who would use it and 
 improve its value. Without homesteads, with no prospect of 
 anything but unsatisfying labor, with scarce the surety of earn- 
 ing a scanty subsistence, — there is, among the common people, 
 a lack of interest in agricultural efforts. Thousands of laborers 
 leave this land, the fairest on which God's impartial sun shines ; 
 few are left to care for the soil ; and so, as the shortest cut 
 across this field of deliberately created difficulty, nearly all the 
 land is laid down to grass. In our ride of more than one 
 hundred miles, hardly one fruit-tree was seen, or one nice 
 garden. The country suffers for want of skilled yeomanry, to 
 whom anticipation of ownership of the soil is " a cloud by day, 
 and a pillar of fire by night," to pilot them out of the bondage 
 they are in. The laws of justice and divine compensation are, 
 however, at work, and change for the better is at hand ; amend- 
 ment after amendment, even now foreshadowed, will come, for 
 He who ruleth over all will " turn and overturn," "till he whose 
 right it is shall reign." 
 
 But to return to the Queen City of Ireland, — its greatest 
 place socially and commercially speaking. 
 
 Dublin is finely situated at the head of Dublin Bay. It is built 
 solidly, on comparatively level land, on both sides of the River 
 Liffey, running from west to east. The city has a population of 
 242,722 ; including the adjoining suburb, 295,841. The river is 
 navigable to Carlisle Bridge at the centre of the city, and from 
 the mouth of the river up to the bridge it has good docks and 
 wharves. Its commerce is varied and extensive. Unfortunately 
 there was at the entrance of the harbor a sand-bar, on which, at 
 low water, the depth varied from nine to twenty-four feet. This 
 is now no great source of annoyance, as a portion of it has been 
 removed, and large ships, taking advantage of the tides, may 
 come up to the wharves. 
 
 A great part of the city is regularly built, having wide and 
 well-paved streets, and magnificent stores and public buildings. 
 They are of splendid architecture, and of every style and kind, 
 from the classic Creek and Roman, to the elegant Renaissance, 
 and from the Gothic of antiquity to the most refined of our own 
 day. The latter, however, in its best estate, — save perhaps in 
 its new grouping and combination of the best of the old id< as, 
 with a rejection of the questionable features — is not much in 
 advance of it s original sources. 
 
 Like all large places, there is a slum where the people are
 
 46 IRELAND. 
 
 poor and low ; but in these respects Dublin is not the equal 
 of Cork and some other parts of Southern Ireland. 
 
 As we go north towards Belfast and Londonderry we find an 
 advance in what constitutes a higher and better civilization. 
 The influence of the people of the North of England, and more 
 especially of Scotland, has modified it. It may be said that 
 where inflexible Episcopacy, acting on Catholicism, has pre- 
 vailed, different results have come. While the good but ig- 
 norant Catholic has no affinity for Presbyterianisnij he has a 
 great respect for the industrious, well-appearing, just-dealing 
 Scotchman, and he entertains an active suspicion in regard to 
 the more formal Episcopalian, who has ruthlessly, as he thinks, 
 appropriated the grand old churches where rest the bones of 
 revered saints, and where his fathers worshipped for many gener- 
 ations. Some especial influence certainly has modified Northern 
 Ireland's action, nature, and life. There is a deal more implied 
 in the phrase North of Ireland, and in its antithesis, Far-downer, 
 than appears to the casual observer. There is no city of Ireland 
 where wealth and poverty are more contiguous, and where aris- 
 tocracy and democracy are nearer neighbors, than at Dublin. 
 
 Nine bridges, two of which are iron, cross the river, and a 
 magnificent avenue nine miles long, called the Circular Road, 
 environs the city. The Bank of Ireland, near the college, is a 
 low but very large building, and was once the House of Ear- 
 liament. Trinity College opposite — and both are in the very 
 centre of the most crowded business portion of the city — 
 has fine stone buildings, with large and elegantly kept lawns, 
 one opening into the other. The institution was founded by 
 Fope John XXII., closed by Henry VIII., and reopened by 
 Queen Elizabeth, who incorporated it in 1592. 
 
 Of the many public buildings, such as hospitals, museums, 
 libraries, it is useless to speak. They are noble institutions, and 
 worthy the capital of even England itself. It has a very large 
 pleasure-ground called Bhcenix Bark, on the edge of the city. 
 This park is well laid out, and is for Dublin what Central Bark 
 is for New York, or Fairmount for Philadelphia. There is in it 
 one of the largest and most admirably kept zoological gardens of 
 the world. Glasnevin Cemetery, their Mount Auburn or Green- 
 wood, is an elegant city of the dead. Here repose the remains 
 of 1 >aniel O'Connell, under a high, round tower visible from all 
 parts of the grounds. The profusion of sweet-scented lime- 
 trees, and the taste and beauty of the scenery and artificial work, 
 enable it to vie with any cemetery in Europe. In a city like
 
 DUBLIN. 47 
 
 Dublin, where there is so much that is good and great, one is 
 tempted to enlarge the range of his thoughts, and is loth to 
 leave the spot. 
 
 Before speaking of the Cathedral of St. Patrick, we will give 
 a brief history of cathedral service itself. Till the time 
 of Constantine, Christians were not allowed to erect temples. 
 Early, churches meant only assemblies, not buildings ; and by 
 cathedrals were meant their consistories, or places of meeting. 
 It was in 312 that this emperor first granted absolute tolera- 
 tion to Christians. In 325 the Council of Nice was con- 
 vened, and made, under his sanction, an open declaration that 
 Christianity be thereafter the recognized official religion of the 
 land. The earliest record we have of a distinctive cathedral 
 service is near the end of the fourth century ; although there 
 are traces of it at an earlier date, too indistinct to be re- 
 liable. St. Basil, at the close of the fourth century says : — 
 
 The people flocked to the churches before daylight, first to pray 
 on bended knees, then rising to sing psalms, either in alternate 
 chorus, or one chanting, others following in an under-voice ; and 
 this was done in all Egypt, Libya, Thebes, Palestine, Arabia, and 
 Syria. 
 
 In seventy years the Christians had many church edifices, 
 or ecclesia cathcdralis (church meeting-places), and a pretty well 
 developed and organized prayer and singing service ; but cathe- 
 dral or church service did not come to great perfection till 
 the days of Gregory the Great, who was born a. d. 540, and 
 died in 604. Chanting had its origin in the church of An- 
 tioch during the episcopate of Lontius, a. d. 347-356. Theo- 
 doret informs us that Flavianus and Diodorus divided the 
 choir into two parts, and made them sing the Psalms of David 
 alternately, and that this method began first at Antioch. At 
 the Council of Laodicea, held between 360 and 370, it was 
 determined that there should be canonical singers, who should 
 sing out of written books. We may imagine something of the 
 of affairs before the order passed ; forBalsamon says that, 
 prior to the convening of this council, the laity would many 
 times, and at their pleasure, begin to sing such hymns and 
 songs in the church as were crude and unusual. To obviate 
 this the 'anon was made, ordering that none should begin to 
 sing but those whose office it was to do so, tin- laity having 
 1. io sing with them in the entire service; 
 and so was inaugurated our modern congregational singing,
 
 48 IRELAND. 
 
 to be led, however, by an appointed choir. Choir-singing was 
 carried into Rome in 380, under Pope Damasus ; and in the 
 time of Gregory the Great, about 620, it was brought to great 
 perfection. Gregory sent Austin to introduce it into England. 
 He found the clergy there unwilling to receive it, and it is said 
 that he caused twelve hundred of them to be slaughtered at 
 once. In 670 Theodore was sent by Vitalian to fill the See of 
 Canterbury, and he succeeded in introducing the cathedral ser- 
 vice ; and he also has the credit of introducing organs into 
 divine worship. The year 679 is the earliest certain date of 
 cathedral worship in Great Britain. 
 
 In France Gregorian chant-work began about the year 787, 
 and was patronized by Charles the Great. In the reigns of 
 Henry VIII. and Edward VI. thirty-two commissioners were 
 appointed to examine all canons, constitutions, and ordinances, 
 provincial and synodal, and they declared against a cathedral 
 service. The judicious and pious Hooker, ceremony-loving, 
 and jealous of the interests of the church, yet under the ban and 
 interdicted, could not suppress his thought, and he says : — 
 
 Cathedrals are as glasses, wherein the face and very countenance 
 of apostolical antiquity remaineth, even as yet to be seen, notwith- 
 standing the alterations which the hand of time and the course of 
 the world hath brought. 
 
 So the work continued till a final establishment of present 
 customs, and Seymour says of cathedrals and their sen-ice as at 
 present carried on : — 
 
 They serve as parish churches, only on a more elaborate scale ; 
 and there can be no valid objection raised to their maintenance, 
 except by those who condemn an intoned service, and the intro- 
 duction of a highly cultivated musical choir. The canons preach 
 in turn, and, provided the preaching is orthodox and purely 
 evangelical [a hit this, undoubtedly, at Dean Stanlev, Canon 
 Farrar, and others of like sentiment], and the old story of Christ's 
 blood and righteousness and substitution is set, forth as enough 
 for all the spiritual necessities of mankind, there can be no just 
 grounds of complaint against the peculiar mode of our present 
 cathedral worship. 
 
 St. Patrick's being the first cathedral in which we attend ser- 
 vices, the foregoing statement is made, preparatory to a consid- 
 eration of this and other cathedrals we are to visit. It should 
 be remembered that in all of them the sen-ice is intoned or 
 sung, with the exception of the sermon itself, that being a part
 
 DUBLIN. 49 
 
 of the service only on Sundays or other important days. So 
 strong is the force of habit, that the sermon also is generally 
 delivered in a drawling, monotonous tone. This was a marked 
 feature of the style of Dean Stanley in sermons delivered during 
 his visit to America. Very strange did his elocution sound 
 to American ears, and it was only tolerated because it came 
 from a man so really great and truly honored. 
 
 St. Patrick's Cathedral is one of the most interesting churches 
 in Ireland, and hours can be spent with pleasure and advantage 
 in the grand old structure. It is said that St. Patrick here 
 erected a place of worship, and baptized his converts with 
 water taken from a well in the floor of the present cathedral, 
 which is still shown to the visitor. As evidence of its antiquity 
 as a place of worship, and of the importance and character of 
 the original building, we have it as a well attested fact that in 
 890 — almost a thousand years ago, and four and a half centu- 
 ries after the establishment of worship here by St. Patrick, and 
 the building of his church — Gregory of Scotland, with his ad- 
 herents, attended worship here. 
 
 The present edifice, the seat of the Bishop of Dublin, was 
 begun by Archbishop Comyn in 1190. It was doubled in its 
 capacity by Archbishop Minot, who held the See in 1370, 
 repairs on the old cathedral, and the extension, being necessi- 
 tated by a fire which destroyed a large portion of the building 
 in 1362. The edifice is of dark or blackish stone. It is irregular 
 in outline, being cruciform in plan, with nave, choir, transepts, 
 lady-chapel and porch. 
 
 A number of monuments are scattered about the interior, 
 among them a tablet to the memory of the Duke of Schom- 
 berg, with an inscription by Jonathan Swift, at one time Dean of 
 the cathedral. In another part are mural tablets, high up from 
 the floor, to the memory of the Dean, who died Oct. 19, 1745, 
 and was here buried. Near by is the monument to Mrs. Hester 
 Johnson, the Stella of his poetry. A monument of note near 
 the door commemorates Boyle, Earl of Cork, who died 1629. 
 It is of a peculiar design, and attractive by its quaint oddity. 
 It is of black marble, ornamented in parts by wood mouldings 
 and carving, which were painted in positive colors, but are now 
 dull and somewhat obscured. It represents the earl and his 
 wife in recumbent positions, surrounded by their sixteen chil- 
 dren. These figures are of wood, and carved in a grotesque 
 barbaru enough to be pleasing examples of sculpture to a 
 " Heathen Chinee." 
 
 4
 
 50 IRELAND. 
 
 The exterior of the cathedral presents a very aged appear- 
 ance, anci the two parts of the structure, erected by the two 
 bishops in 1 190 and 1370, are distinctly marked. The tower 
 has plain buttresses at the corners, each ending in embattled 
 turrets. A low. stone spire above this is attached to the sec- 
 tion built by Bishop Comyn, and was erected some time after 
 the other parts of the cathedral. Each part is of Gothic archi- 
 tecture, and is of the style prevailing at the period of its erection. 
 Elaborate decoration does not appear in any part, and as the 
 edifice fronts on a cramped, narrow street, and is near the sur- 
 rounding buildings, no extended view of it can be obtained. 
 
 In i860 the late Sir B. L. Guinness, — the noted brewer of 
 Dublin, whose celebrated ales and porter are known the civil- 
 ized world over, — at his own expense, undertook a com- 
 plete restoration of the cathedral ; and after years of continued 
 labor, by a large body of workmen, the whole was finished at a 
 cost of $720,000. Changes were made in the interior by the 
 removal of modernish screens, and the exterior, while it has the 
 same antiquated look, is in perfect repair. The interior with 
 its lofty groined ceiling and arches, its stately columns, its rich 
 oaken stalls, its beautiful stained glass windows, the great organ 
 at the left of the communion table, the rich pulpit, — especially 
 dedicated by Mr. Guinness to the late Dean Peckham as a me- 
 morial, — these combine to make the venerable structure rank 
 well with many of the cathedrals of England. We hardly need to 
 say that it is under the administration of the Church of England. 
 
 This was our first Sunday on land, April 28, and we decided 
 that we would attend worship here in the forenoon. The Bishop 
 of Dublin, and his canons, curates, and robed adult choir, were 
 in attendance, and the cathedral was about one third filled. 
 The service, as we afterwards found to be the universal custom 
 in England, was intoned instead of read. It was disturbed, too, 
 by the constant echoes ; and, being unfamiliar with an intoned 
 service, we were but poorly interested, and hoped for better 
 things in the sermon, which was by one of the canons. It 
 proved to be a weak statement of common things, a labored 
 effort to prove what all admitted at the start. We would, how- 
 ever, speak lightly of no religious work, and were thankful for 
 the treat we had enjoyed of seeing this time-honored sanctuary 
 in use, and that we had listened to its grand music, and also to 
 even a poor rendition of its beautiful service. 
 
 At 2 p. m. we are out again for a ramble, this time to visit 
 the fine grounds and buildings of the Royal Hospital, built by
 
 DUBLIN. 51 
 
 the celebrated architect of St. Paul's Cathedral at London, Sir 
 Christopher Wren, in 1669. The building is large, though but 
 two stories in height, and has ample grounds, and two-hundred- 
 year-old avenues, well shaded by large trees. The institution is 
 now used as a military station. We were freely admitted to the 
 principal parts, were delighted with the old and good portraits 
 in the ancient dining-hall, — and inexpressibly so with the 
 chapel, for here are to be seen transcripts of the mind of Wren. 
 He appears to best advantage as a designer, when he undertook 
 to make pulpits and altar-pieces ; and here, about the large 
 circular-headed altar-window, he has almost excelled himself. 
 This, like all the stall work, is finished in oak, and is as elaborate 
 and as perfect as though of modern construction, though it is 
 more than two hundred years old. 
 
 Reluctantly we left these hallowed premises for a walk in 
 the great Phcenix Park near by, and in the Zoological Garden. 
 On our walk home to the hotel, we made it in our way to pass 
 the companion church of St. Patrick, the other cathedral ; for, 
 incredible as it may seem, Dublin has another Protestant Epis- 
 copal cathedral-church, one scarcely inferior to St. Patrick's 
 in renown. It is the venerable Church of the Holy Trinity, 
 more commonly known by the name of Christ Church Cathe- 
 dral. As is well known, a cathedral is so called because it is 
 the seat of a bishop. Of course Dublin has but one bishop, and 
 he is at St. Patrick's. The edifice we are to describe has, in 
 turn with St. Patrick's, been the bishop's church, and from that 
 circumstance the name has obtained its present use. 
 
 This edifice is of great interest and antiquity. According to 
 the " Black Book of Christ's Church," a very ancient record, its 
 vaults, or what is now the crypt, were built by the Danes before 
 the first visit of St. Patrick to Dublin in the fifth century, but 
 who is erroneously reported to have celebrated mass in them. 
 The present edifice, in comparison with these vaults, is quite 
 modern, for it was not built till five hundred years after ; but 
 enough of antiquity remains to excite our admiration, for this 
 building was begun in the year 1038, — 845 years ago, 152 
 years before the building of St Patrick's, and about halfway 
 between the date of the birth of Christ and our own day. 
 
 The statement that St. Patrick said mass in the crypt of this 
 cathedral is simply a legend, for he had ended his ministry 
 early in the fifth century. A sort of tavern was kept for centu- 
 ries in this Ciypt; while services were being performed above, 
 the votaries of Bacchus were adoring their god beneath. It
 
 O'l IRELAND. 
 
 was no uncommon thing in that age for churches to provide 
 accommodation for the tramps and bummers of the time. As 
 late as the close of the sixteenth century, the benches at the 
 door of Old St. Paul's, London, were used by beggars and 
 drunkards to sleep on, and the place was surrendered to idlers 
 of all descriptions. 
 
 Christ Church Cathedral was greatly enlarged by Lawrence 
 O'Tool, who, in 1 163, changed the canons, originally secular, 
 into the regular canons of Arras, as they were termed. Next, 
 Strongbow, the Earl of Pembroke, and Fitzstephen, both Nor- 
 man adventurers, made repairs and additions about the year 
 1 1 70; and again Raymond le Gros, at a yet later day, added 
 the steeple, choir, and two small chapels. In 1 190, but twenty 
 years after, it was practically rebuilt by John Comyn, who at the 
 same time was building St. Patrick's; and about the year 1360 
 John de St. Paul erected the chancel. With occasional repairs 
 the edifice remained as it was, 523 years ago, till a few years 
 since, when great dilapidation had taken place, .and extensive 
 restorations were needed. Not to be outdone by Mr. Guinness 
 at St. Patrick's, Henry Roe, Esq., the well-known distiller of 
 Dublin, emulating the example of his friend, ordered, at his 
 own expense, complete repairs on both the exterior and interior, 
 costing a full million of dollars. The work was done under the 
 architectural supervision of G. A. Street, and paid for by Mr. 
 Roe as the work proceeded. At the time of our second visit, 
 May 2, although not entirely finished, the building had been 
 reopened, and an assemblage of the most distinguished prelates 
 of the Episcopalian order held a four clays' service, largely 
 musical, at the grand opening, of which we speak hereafter. 
 
 The building, though very massive and suggestive of strength, 
 is not beautiful in proportions or decoration. It has a clumsy 
 look, but is consistent in design throughout. The interior has 
 the same appearance. While it is finished in the highest style 
 of workmanship, and in the best possible imitation of the origi- 
 nal plan, it is mainly pleasing in variety of design, its thorough- 
 ness of work, and in the faithful representation it probably gives 
 of the cathedral as it was centuries ago. When one looks at 
 the nicely cut stone and fine finish, he can but believe that it 
 is a vast improvement in workmanship on its original self. It 
 has many ancient monuments of the quaintest sort, often with 
 rude and grotesque designs. 
 
 Conspicuous among these is one of the Earl of Pembroke, or, 
 as he is more commonly called, Strongbow, the Norman invader,
 
 DUBLIN. 53 
 
 who died in 1166. It represents the renowned warrior in a 
 recumbent posture, clothed in mail armor, with his wife Eva by 
 his side. Reasonable doubts exist of the authenticity of the 
 monument. Its honors are divided between him and the Earl 
 of Desmond, the Lord Chief Justice, who was looked upon 
 with suspicion and jealousy on account of his kindness to the 
 Irish people, and in consequence of this jealousy was beheaded 
 at Drogheda in 1497. This monument was removed from its 
 original location, by order of Sir Henry Sidney, in 1569. 
 
 This cathedral is a place of resort for those who are interested 
 in the elaborate service performed every Sunday forenoon. It 
 has a lawn on one side of it, somewhat larger than any at St. 
 Patrick's. This is well fenced in from the side street, and par- 
 allel with the side of the cathedral ; but the rear end and side are 
 in close contiguity to common buildings, and the neighborhood is 
 entirely made up of ordinary houses of brick or stone, which are 
 filled with tenants, often having families on each floor. The 
 streets are narrow, and while not remarkably dirty, they are any- 
 thing but tidy in appearance. This portion of the city, and 
 St. Patrick's neighborhood — which is not more than a five 
 minutes' walk away — are probably the oldest settled parts of the 
 city : a low population having taken possession still retain their 
 foothold, as they do about the great churches at Cork and 
 Limerick. 
 
 There are many interesting facts shown on the ancient records 
 of this cathedral. In 1434 the mayor and some distinguished 
 citizens of Dublin did penance, by walking barefoot through the 
 streets to the cathedral, for having committed manslaughter ; 
 for taking the Earl of Ormonde prisoner " in a hostile manner ; " 
 for breaking open the doors of St. Mary's Abbey, dragging out 
 the abbot, " and carrying him forth like a corpse, some bearing 
 him by the feet, and others by the arms and shoulders." 
 
 In 1450 a parliament was held in the cathedral by Henry VI. ; 
 another was held in 1493. In 1497 liberty from arrests, and all 
 other molestations, was granted, by the city of Dublin, to those 
 who should come to visit any shrine or relic of this edifice. 
 In 1528 the prior of this cathedral, with the priors of St. John 
 of Jerusalem and of All Saints. < aused two plays to be a< ted. on 
 ■ erected by Hoggin Green, representing the Passion of 
 iour, and the several deaths the apostles suffered. This 
 was a sort of Irish Oberammergau play. 
 
 Seven years later, in 15 at 1 tiange m public sentiment 
 
 had come; lor in this year George Brown, an Augustin friar
 
 54 IRELAND. 
 
 who had been consecrated bishop, removed all images and rel- 
 ics from this and the other churches of the diocese, and in their 
 stead placed the Creed, the Lord's Prayer, and the Ten Com- 
 mandments in gilded frames. In 1538 the Baculus jfesu, or 
 holy staff, said to have belonged to St. Patrick, and deposited 
 here in 11 80, was publicly burned. In 1554 Bishop Brown, 
 who was the first Protestant prelate of Dublin, was deprived of 
 his office by Queen Mary. Four years later another reaction 
 had taken place. In 1559 Parliament was held in the cathe- 
 dral ; the Act of Uniformity was passed ; the Litany was sung 
 in English, for the first time in Ireland, before the Earl of Sus- 
 sex, the Lord Lieutenant ; and a large English Bible was chained 
 in the middle of the choir, free for the people to read. By order 
 of Queen Elizabeth, Thomas Lockwood, the dean, removed all 
 Popish relics and images, that had been restored in the days of 
 Queen Mary in 1570. Penance was performed here by Richard 
 Dixon, Bishop of Cork, who was also deprived of his See for 
 gross immoralities. In 1633 the Lord-deputy sent an urgent 
 letter to the Archbishop of Canterbury, asking him to prevent a 
 longer use of the vaults under the cathedral as ale and tobacco 
 shops. 
 
 In 1 738 a peal of bells was cast by Abel Rudhall of Glouces- 
 ter, England, and placed in the tower. He had cast the Sweet 
 Bells of Shandon at St. Ann's, Cork. He was also the maker of 
 the bells at Christ Church, Boston, which were cast but six years 
 later, in 1744. There were at the cathedral originally but eight 
 bells. Five have recently been added. In 1821 George IV., 
 and in 1868 the Prince and Princess of Wales, attended service 
 in the cathedral. 
 
 All cathedrals have a similar history. A cathedral's history is 
 but a record of humanity's march through the centuries, through 
 superstition, blood, and contest, onward and upward to advanced 
 and yet advancing conditions, till finally — if there be truth in 
 divine writ or the aspirations of humanity — "the kingdoms of 
 this world shall become the kingdoms of our Lord, and of his 
 Christ." 
 
 Sackville Street is a splendid business avenue leading from 
 Carlisle Bridge. It is full one hundred feet wide, and filled with 
 a hurrying, Broadway or Washington Street-like population. On 
 the left stands the classical portico of the post-office, composed 
 of six large Ionic columns, and their entablature and pediment. 
 It is surmounted by figures of Hibemia, Mercury, and Fidelity. 
 In front, at the centre of the street, is Nelson's monument, a
 
 DUBLIN. 55 
 
 splendid column 112 feet high, — exclusive of the crowning statue 
 of the hero of Trafalgar, which is in itself 13 feet in height. This 
 is a fine piece of sculpture, and is from the studio of a native 
 sculptor, Thomas Kirk. The monument was erected by public 
 subscription and cost over $34,000. In consequence of the 
 general levelness of the city of Dublin, from the top of this col- 
 umn, though not of very great height, may be seen almost the 
 entire surrounding country, from the Mourne Mountains in the 
 county of Down on the north,, around to the Wicklow Moun- 
 tains on the south. Spread out before the observer are the 
 plains of Meath and Kildare, extending far westward, and parted 
 by the hills of Dublin and its bay ; and to the eastward appears 
 the Irish Sea. 
 
 The Custom House and the Four Courts of Dublin are im- 
 mense structures, of classical architecture, and well decorated 
 with statuary. On the former are statues representing Navi- 
 gation, Wealth, Commerce, Industry, Europe, Asia, America, 
 and Africa. Other parts have the arms of Ireland. There is 
 a fine allegorical representation of Britannia and Hibernia in a 
 great marine shell, with a group of merchantmen approaching, 
 and Neptune driving away Famine and Despair. 
 
 The Court House has on the upper angle of its great portico 
 pediment a statue of Moses, and at the lower ends statues of 
 Mercy and Justice. On other parts are Wisdom and Authority. 
 The great entrance hall is 64 feet in diameter ; at the centre 
 stands a colossal statue of Truth, bearing in her upraised hand 
 a torch, from which issue gas jets for illuminating the rotunda. 
 
 We attended a court session. The rooms were cramped in 
 size, and dark from the few smoked and unwashed windows. 
 A peculiar impression was made, reminding us of a by-gone 
 custom and age, when we saw the lawyers, — or barristers as 
 they are called, — old and young, arrayed in loose black alpaca 
 robes, open in front and flying as they walk, and wearing gray 
 wigs of scrupulously curled hair. These are for sale in especial 
 stores, and their use is imperative when one addresses the judge 
 of any save the lowest common police court. 
 
 Previous anticipations of what was to be seen in Ireland's great 
 metropolis were in the main realized. We expected, however, 
 more Irish and less English elements. The city is quite 
 American in appearance. Except fur a more durable and classi- 
 ca] look to its buildings, and the 1 ul stone embankments on both 
 sides of the river; excepting also its heavier horse-cars and 
 their roads, — tramways, as they are called, — little is seen that
 
 56 IRELAND. 
 
 may not recall our large cities, especially Buffalo and Cincinnati. 
 In fact, we were strongly reminded of these by the stores, houses, 
 and streets, the quantity of business doing, and the average ap- 
 pearance of the people. Sunday was observed, much as it is in 
 Boston or New York, by a general suspension of business, the 
 streets being filled with well-dressed, orderly people. Bells often 
 saluted the ear, horse-cars and omnibuses were well patronized, 
 and the parks were visited by thousands, all in a state of sobriety 
 that we are not sure of seeing in a large American city. We 
 now for a time leave the city, but in another chapter shall speak 
 of it again.
 
 WATERFORD. 57 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 WATERFORD CARRICK-ON-SUIR KILKENNY DUBLIN AGAIN. 
 
 BUSINESS now called us back to the lower part of Ireland, 
 and we will here take a look at Waterford and other 
 places. 
 Waterford is one of the most noted places of Southern 
 Ireland, and has for centuries played an important part in 
 history and commerce. We arrived here at 6.30 p. m., after 
 a ride of five and a half hours from Dublin. The city is situ- 
 ated on the right bank of the River Suir, nine miles from its 
 entrance into Waterford Harbor. It has an extensive suburb, 
 with a pleasant settlement called Ferrybank, on the other side of 
 the river, opposite a part of the city. The population of Water- 
 ford proper is 23,349. The quay is the finest in Ireland. It 
 is 120 feet wide, extends for three quarters of a mile along the 
 river, and is well built of stone. Bordering this, on the land 
 side, are stores of various kinds. It looks like an old commer- 
 cial place, and the general dingy look of everything suggests 
 great dampness of atmosphere. There are not many buildings 
 of importance. Few of the streets are wide, but most of them 
 are narrow and crooked, and lanes and alleys abound. We 
 were impressed with the aspect of poverty. The shore opposite 
 is bold, rocky, and precipitous, and, at the lower end, about 
 the bridge and railway station, is romantic and picturesque. 
 
 The old, long bridge is a structure of stone, and of con- 
 siderable consequence. It was erected in Ireland's memorable 
 year, 1 798, and near this place one of her most important bat- 
 tles was fought, which ended to her disadvantage, and resulted, 
 in 1 80 1, in the surrender of her power, and the establishment 
 of English rule. It is too much to expect that England, who 
 so long ago established its authority in India, and in our time 
 in Cyprus, thousands of miles away, should resist the temp- 
 tation of subjugating a land so indefensible as Ireland, which lay 
 at her very door. The bridge having been built in her last great 
 battle year, a stone slab in the parapet records the fa< t.
 
 58 IRELAND. 
 
 Here are the inevitable barracks They are of stone, three 
 stories high, and very extensive. There were evidences of 
 military rule in every place yet visited. The soldiers are all 
 young. None are over thirty years of age, and many not more 
 than eighteen. All are stout and robust, and each is a picked 
 man. The uniform coats are red, with gilt buttons, the pants 
 are a dark plaid ; they look dandyish. These men are the 
 best physique of the nation, and, as a whole, put to a bad use. 
 They are always to be found on the street, either singly, by twos, 
 or in squads, each with a switch-cane, said to be furnished by 
 the government. 
 
 The police are English, for no Irish person is trusted, and 
 they are finely dressed in dark clothes. They are very civil and 
 gentlemanly, and, like the soldiers, are picked men. Save on a 
 single occasion in Dublin, we saw no disturbance of any kind, 
 nor any service rendered by the police. 
 
 What interested us most was an old tower on this main 
 thoroughfare, situated at the extreme end of the quay on the 
 land side, and just out to the sidewalk line, in close contiguity 
 with the surrounding buildings. It is fifty feet high, and about 
 thirty-five feet in diameter, and is built of irregular ledge stone, 
 of a dark gray or brownish color ; is very plain, as far as a pro- 
 jection near the top, of a few inches ; above this it is continued 
 up plain some two or three feet higher, having a conical roof 
 which comes down apparently inside of the stone work. There 
 is a single door in the first story. Just above this, to the left, 
 is a stone tablet, about two and a half feet wide and five feet 
 high, with pilasters and pediment top, — the whole much like a 
 dormer window. The inscription is as follows : — 
 
 In the year 1003 
 
 This tower was erected 
 
 By REGINALD the DANE. 
 
 IN I 171 IT WAS HELD AS A FORTRESS 
 
 by STRONGBOLD, Earl of Pembroke. 
 
 In I463 BY STATUTE 3D, EDWARD IV, 
 
 a mint was established here. 
 
 In 1819 it was Reedified in its 
 
 original Form and appropriated to 
 
 The POLICE ESTABLISHMENT 
 
 by the CORPORATION BODY of 
 
 The city of Waterford. 
 
 Rt. Hon. Sir John Newport, Bt., M. P., Mayor, 
 
 Henry Alcock, Esq., ) s 
 
 William Weeks, Esq. ; *> HERIFFS -
 
 CARRICK-ON-SUIR. 59 
 
 The city is very old, and was founded about the year 850, 
 or more than one thousand years ago, at which time Sithric 
 the Dane made it his capital. In 1 1 7 1 Strongbow and Ray- 
 mond le Gros took the place, and put to death most of the 
 Danish inhabitants. King John gave it its first charter, and 
 resided here for some time. The place was unsuccessfully be- 
 sieged by Cromwell, but was afterwards captured by the intrepid 
 Ireton. There are remains of old fortifications and monasteries. 
 
 Curraghmore, the seat of the Marquis of Waterford, contain- 
 ing four thousand acres, is near the city. After a stay till 9 p. M. 
 of this day, we took train for the town of 
 
 CARRICK-ON-SUIR, 
 
 where we arrived at 9.45, and took room at Madame Phalan's 
 Hotel. It is a very comfortable place, and thoroughly Irish, 
 but of a good sort, — a little old inn of the first water ; and, as 
 usual, a woman sixty years old was the " man of the house." 
 A good night's rest, and, next morning a tramp over the town, 
 and the business for which we had come was attended to. The 
 place was very clean and neat, the buildings being of stone, 
 with slate roofs. Many were plastered on the outside, painted 
 in tints of cream-color or gray, and blocked off to represent stone. 
 They are generally two or three stories high. We have spoken 
 of the slate roofs. Some were new and clean, like the best in 
 Boston. Others were ancient, and made of thick slates, little 
 better than thin stones of small size, and often mortared up so 
 as to give a very clumsy appearance. On many of them were 
 large patches of thick, green, velvety moss, and not unfrequently 
 growing in it, and in the roof-gutters, were specimens of snap- 
 dragon in full bloom. The people refrain from removing these 
 excrescences, unless for repairs which compel them to do so. 
 
 We were delighted with the old market-place, and with the 
 thoroughly Irish houses, one story high, built of stone, plastered 
 and whitewashed, and situated in narrow lanes, which were 
 paved with round cobble-stones, and kept remarkably clean. 
 The place shows cultivation and a good civilization. It is a mar- 
 ket-town, and a parish of Tipperary, and is situated on the pretty 
 River Suir, crossed by a bridge built over five hundred 
 years ago. It has a population of 8,520. It was formerly en- 
 closed by walls, and has a parish church of great antiquity. A 
 line Roman Catholic Cliunh has lately been built, and a large 
 v hool is connected with it, having an elegant building of gray
 
 60 IRELAND. 
 
 limestone. There is a castle of some repute, formerly belonging 
 to the celebrated Ormonde family. The town also has a prison, 
 a hospital, and barracks. 
 
 Improvements in the river, made in 1850, rendered it 
 navigable for vessels of considerable capacity, which can 
 now come up to the town, which has quite a trade in cotton, 
 corn, and general produce. Monthly fairs are held in the 
 market-place. There are some shade-trees, and the town in 
 many parts has a rural look. But few very Irish-looking people 
 are seen. While the town is unmistakably Irish, it is of a high 
 grade ; and, notwithstanding many of its buildings are quaint 
 and old, for the most part it is modern, though not of course 
 like New England. The place has two banks, and a num- 
 ber of good stores. We had seen no place quite like Carrick, 
 but, as we aftewards found, it anticipated Kilkenny. 
 
 The good wine was, however, kept till the last, for we had an 
 exquisite suburban trip. At 1.30 p.m. we took a team, standing 
 in the street for hire, for our journey to Pilltown. We did n't 
 care to inquire where the village got its name, and doubt of suc- 
 cess had we made the attempt. A half-mile out, and we were in 
 love with the scenery. There presented itself every kind of 
 view imaginable, — hills, fields, groves, and mountains in the dis- 
 tance. We thought then, and we think now, that little section 
 is the garden of Ireland. How fine the landscapes ! how balmy 
 and clear the atmosphere ! what good vegetation, and what 
 sleek horses, beautiful healthy cows, and splendid sheep ! and 
 how very civil they were, and how confiding, when we strangers 
 came near them ! We were so full of satisfaction that we had 
 but little real ability to appreciate what we saw next, — a street 
 as wide and clean as can be desired, some of the neatest possi- 
 ble one-story stone houses, with appropriate front-yards with 
 flowers in them ; and nowhere to be found, in either street or 
 yard or house, so far as we could see, a thing to amend or alter. 
 Well, we almost knew there was an especial cause for all this. 
 No lot of mortals, fallen from the assumed high plane of Adam 
 and Eve, ever existed, ■ — at all events that we have heard of, — 
 who would of themselves get into this Eden-like condition. 
 We inquired the cause, and soon the mystery was at an end, 
 for we were told that Lord Bestborough, — we hope that name 
 is given right, — a much beloved landholder, owned all, and 
 gave annual prizes for the best kept houses and grounds. A 
 committee of ladies and gentlemen have the matter in charge ; 
 they make two especial visits, and award five prizes in all, the 
 largest being two pounds, or ten dollars.
 
 PURCELL ESTATE. 61 
 
 We rode on, and were soon at the original Purcell estate, 
 which has for some hundreds of years been occupied by the 
 family of that name, from which one of the writers came in the 
 course of human progress. In talking of our own company, we 
 are not inclined to say descent, and especially in these days of 
 Darwinism ; so we draw it mild when we refrain from saying 
 ascent, and are contented with suggesting that we have advanced 
 or progressed. 
 
 We may have been prejudiced, but very delightful was the 
 scenery in this region. The river took a grand quarter-circle 
 sweep just back of the old farm, and was here a quarter of a 
 mile wide, with remarkably fine English grass-meadows, half 
 a mile wide, bordering it. The distant hills were irregular and 
 well wooded, and over them was a fine haze, like that of our 
 Blue Hills at Milton. The great ravines had dark places of 
 interest, and made all very picturesque. Not more than two or 
 three scattered farmhouses were in view. No noise was heard 
 save that of the small birds ; but conspicuous was the song of 
 the Irish Thrush. 
 
 Two coal-vessels were at anchor in the river, and these 
 added a strange element to the scene. We hallooed to one 
 vessel and beckoned, and a boat was put out to ferry us over. 
 In making for Purcell's we had mistaken the road, and so had 
 walked a mile or more out of the way, and were on the wrong 
 side of the river. It would n't be Yankeeish to go back, but 
 rather to go ahead, especially when, Davy Crockett-like, we 
 were sure we were right, — for, to use an Irishism, we were 
 right when we were wrong. The boat came, and we, like the two 
 kings of ancient Munster — Strongbow and Raymond le Gros — 
 stepped in and were rowed over. We gave a shilling to the 
 boatman, and landed, and were now all right. It would not be 
 becoming to tell all that we saw, said, and did. We had never 
 seen one of that family, nor they us ; nor had they seen any 
 other Yankees ; and if any mortals were surprised, they were. 
 Photographs of some kindred were, however, in that very house. 
 The whole matter of relationship was thoroughly talked over, and 
 in the room where the great-grandfather died, we took tea. We 
 stood in front of the large kitchen fireplace, where for almost a cen- 
 tury he used to sit, and were delighted with a sight of old New- 
 Englandish pots, kettles, trammels, hooks, and large high and- 
 irons, about which the burning furze crackled. Keats has it, " A 
 thing of beauty is a joy forever." This is a joy forever, — that 
 old fireplace ; but the beauty is nowhere, not even, thought we,
 
 62 IRELAND. 
 
 in the " mind's eye Horatio." To leave a cathedral or a fine 
 old ruin, a picture gallery or museum, caused less trouble than 
 our parting with this good old Irish homestead ; but the spell 
 must be broken. 
 
 As we walked through the long, winding lane, each side well 
 hedged, we were delighted anew. In what profusion were the 
 modest daisies in the pathway ; how many, many snails, their 
 houses on their backs, were on the bushes; and then, those ex- 
 quisite primroses, in such vast numbers, — of the most delicate, 
 refined straw-tint imaginable. The entire vegetation was so 
 clean ! And then the stillness — nothing but sweet-singing birds 
 to make a noise. Half a mile off, on a rise of land to our right, 
 was a little village of perhaps twenty houses, — and the church, 
 the mother building of them all. Here, once a Purcell was the 
 priest. He built the house we had visited, and was a brother of 
 the great-grandfather. Advanced as we are, and removed from 
 Romanism, yet there was a charm about that old spot. Though 
 dead a century, that venerable priestly ancestor yet speaketh. 
 
 We wended our way to Fiddown Station. How refinedly 
 Irish that name is, and also that of the village Polroon ; but 
 alas, the euphony had become exhausted before we went in 
 imagination a half-mile back from Polroon, and over to Pur- 
 cell's Village, for that has the aesthetic name of Moincoin. Our 
 walk from this place was three miles, but the distance was short 
 enough amidst such air and scenery. 
 
 A ride in the steam-cars, of an hour from Fiddown, and at 
 9 p. m. we were back, not in Carrick-on-Suir, but in Waterford, 
 at the Imperial Hotel, near the old Stronghold Tower before 
 described. Not much of Irish about the hotel ! Next morning 
 breakfast was ordered at 6 a. m. Then we went out and copied 
 the tower inscription before given. At 7.15 took cars for Kil- 
 kenny, where we arrived at 8.30. 
 
 The general look of the landscape between the places, and in 
 fact all the way down from Dublin, was very like that of New 
 England along shore. Trees and woods are in about the same 
 proportion as with us, and, excepting the houses, we saw noth- 
 ing that we might not have seen in a similar ride at home. 
 
 KILKENNY. 
 
 " Kilkenny is sure another of the Irish places," says the 
 reader ; and it is hardly less so by reputation than Sligo, Dun- 
 dalk, and Drogheda. It is the shire town of the county of Kil-
 
 KILKENNY. 63 
 
 kenny, and a county of itself, situated on the River Nore, 63 
 miles from Dublin, and 30 miles from Waterford, having a 
 population of 12,664. It is divided by the river into an Irish 
 and an English town, the former in the vicinity of the cathedral, 
 and the latter near the castle. In ancient times the place 
 figured largely as a seat of parliaments, and was often the scene 
 of stirring events. As viewed from the railway, which is one 
 of the best points of observation, Kilkenny is one of the 
 most picturesque rural places that can be imagined. On 
 the left of the centre, and on low ground, is the castle. 
 The original was built by Earl Strongbow in 11 72, and, de- 
 stroyed by Donald O'Brien soon after. The present struc- 
 ture was built inii95. In 1319 James Butler, third Earl of 
 Ormonde, purchased the estate of the Pembroke (or Stronghold ) 
 family, and with his descendants it has since remained. It is 
 in perfect condition, and occupied by the Marquis of Ormonde. 
 It is a very large edifice, of an old granite appearance, is situ- 
 ated on a slight elevation, and the river runs rapidly by its 
 base. The location is at the centre of population, the main 
 avenues adjoining the grounds. The general effect reminds 
 us of Warwick Castle. Richard II. spent two weeks here on a 
 visit to the Earl in 1399. In March, 1650, Cromwell, having 
 invested the place, opened a cannonade on the castle and made 
 a breach in its walls ; but the attackers were twice repulsed, and 
 the breach quickly repaired, Cromwell was traitorously admitted 
 by the mayor and a few of his townsmen ; and as he was in com- 
 pany with Ireton, Sir Walter Butler, who was in charge of the 
 place, deemed it expedient to capitulate, and did so on honor- 
 able terms. He and his officers were highly complimented by 
 Cromwell, who informed them that he had lost more men in 
 storming the town than he did in taking Drogheda, and that but 
 for treachery he should have retired from the siege. 
 
 To the right of the centre and on very high ground we see the 
 Cathedral of St. Canice, one of the most interesting ecclesi- 
 astical structures of Ireland. It was begun in 1 1 80 by Felix 
 O'Dullany, who transferred the See of Sagir from Aghabo to 
 Kilkenny. So extensive was the design of the building that its 
 projectors, never expecting to see it finished, contentedly 
 covered in the choir and consecrated it, leaving to others the 
 task of consummating the work. It is cruciform in plan, 226 
 feet long, and 123 feet wide at the transepts. It has a low and 
 long look, and the tower, which is also low, gives the structure a 
 depressed appearance. The interior, however, is grand and
 
 04 IRELAND. 
 
 imposing. The pillars are of plain black marble, surmounted by 
 high Gothic arches. The arches under the tower, which is at 
 the intersection of nave, choir, and transepts, rest on four mas- 
 sive marble columns. The great western window is triplicated, 
 and a large cross and two Gothic finials crown the centre, 
 angles, and apex of the great gable. The exterior is in tolerable 
 repair, and the interior is in perfect condition, having been fully 
 restored by Dean Vignolles. 
 
 The monumental remains are numerous and interesting. 
 Among them is that of Peter Butler, the eighth Earl of Ormonde, 
 and his Amazonian Countess, known by the Irish as Morgyrhead 
 Ghearhodh. Irish enough the name is, and for that reason we 
 quote it. They died in the sixteenth century. The Countess 
 was of the family of Fitzgerald, and did not dishonor her blood, 
 for she was masculine in organization, and as warlike as any of 
 her race. History says of her that "she was always attended 
 by numerous vassals, richly clothed and accoutred, the whole 
 forming a gay pageant and formidable army ; " and it was more 
 than whispered, by the gossips of her day, that, like Rob Roy, 
 she levied black mail on her less powerful neighbors. 
 
 Near the cathedral is one of the finest monumental round- 
 towers of Ireland, 108 feet in height and in perfect preservation ; 
 though like all these solitary towers, its use is yet enveloped in 
 mystery. No place of Ireland presents a better opportunity of 
 research for the lover of antiquities than the county of Kilkenny, 
 for it is not too much to say that here ruins abound. A writer 
 in " Hall's Hibernia " says : — 
 
 So numerous are church ruins in this region, that on our way 
 we were guided through numerous alleys and by-lanes, to examine 
 relics of the olden time. We found wretched hovels propped up 
 by carved pillars: and in several instances discovered Gothic door- 
 ways converted into pigstyes. 
 
 This was not quite our experience. Our impressions were that 
 the town, in the English part, was business-like and attractive, 
 the streets clean and well paved, and the inhabitants well dressed. 
 In the Irish portion there was the usual quota of one-story 
 houses, and a poor population. 
 
 The Roman Catholic Church, recently built, is an elegant 
 structure, with lofty towers and spires above them, and stands, 
 as viewed from the railroad, at about the centre of the place. 
 
 Kilkenny is celebrated as the seat of witchcraft trials. One of 
 the most remarkable was that of Lady Alice Kettel in 1325.
 
 KILKENNY. 65 
 
 There were, however, but three executions. It should in justice 
 to Ireland be said that, with all its superstitions, it had compara- 
 tively few inhabitants who were barbarous enough to force 
 presumed witches to trial. New England was more than her 
 equal. Aside from these three at Kilkenny, there was but one 
 such execution in all Ireland ; and that was at Antrim, in 1699, 
 seven years after the first appearance of the delusion in New 
 England, which occurred at the house of Rev. Mr. Parris, in Salem, 
 in 1692. The Antrim trial was the last, and was told as a story 
 in pamphlet form, entitled, " The Bewitching of a Child in Ire- 
 land." It had a large circulation, and was foolishly copied by 
 Professor Sinclair into his work entitled " Satan's Invisible World 
 Discovered ; " and is frequently referred to by Sir Walter Scott, 
 in his " Letters on Demonology." While speaking of Sir Walter, 
 we are reminded of the fact that Kilkenny, as well as Melrose 
 had its Sir Walter. His name was John Banim. He wielded a 
 facile pen, had a peculiar temperament, and represented the 
 character of his country and its people with more fidelity and 
 interest, if not romantic effect, than any other Irish novelist. 
 
 We are admonished that we must here end our talk about this 
 lovely Kilkenny ; and, as we turn once more for a final view as 
 our train moves away from the station, it is not without feelings 
 allied to those which Longfellow describes in his own sweet 
 way : — 
 
 A feeling of sadness and longing, 
 That is not akin to pain, 
 
 And resembles sorrow only 
 As the mist resembles the rain. 
 
 We are fully aware that we have not often spoken of Roman 
 Catholic churches, cathedrals, nunneries, and schools ; and at 
 first sight it would appear that in this Catholic country more at- 
 tention should have been paid to these things ; but recognizing 
 the narrow space that could with propriety be devoted to anyone 
 place, we have reluctantly had to forego the pleasure of describing 
 many points of interest. The reader may rest assured that it 
 would have given us unalloyed pleasure to speak of hospitals, 
 charity-schools, asylums, almshouses, and a thousand charitable 
 institutions we saw and heard of. All these abound. That 
 kind-heartedness, so characteristic of the Irish nature ; that 
 hospitality which is part of their being, making their houses, large 
 or small, in Ireland or America, hospitals, asylums, or hotels, — 
 these qualities show themselves, in 1 onstant and varying forms, in 
 buildings designed as comfortable retreats for the unfortunate. 
 
 5
 
 66 IRELAND. 
 
 Descriptions have been given only of such buildings as are of 
 remarkable antiquity, and possessed of more than ordinary 
 interest. At best, these chapters can only be a brief and meagre 
 svnopsis of an inexhaustible store; but perhaps they will tempt 
 the reader to consult the more elaborate thought of others, as 
 found in histories and gazetteers. No more comfortable road 
 up the hill of general knowledge exists, than that which one 
 travels while reading such works. In the former, and measurably 
 in the latter, he finds truth stranger than fiction, and romance 
 supported by an obscured reality, at once enchanting and almost 
 incredible. 
 
 In passing over the roads from place to place there is 
 one continual panorama of interesting objects, each of which 
 is out of the usual line of observation of such travellers as 
 ourselves, — Americans, Yankees, with New England lineage and 
 descent through a line of more than a hundred years. These 
 scenes are so interesting that hundreds of chapters might be 
 written about them ; and when the work ended, description 
 proper would be just begun. 
 
 What novel can be more interesting, or what entertainment 
 more enchanting, than to read about Galbally, where a monastery 
 was founded, as early as 1 204, for the Grayfriars, by a member 
 of the celebrated family of O'Brien. It justly boasts of its beau- 
 tiful Glen Aherlow, eight miles long and two wide, which truthful 
 descriptions say, is not surpassed in interest by anything in the 
 country. It has also a Druidical Temple, consisting of three 
 circles of stone, the principal one of which is 150 feet in diame- 
 ter, consisting of forty stones, of which the largest is 13 feet long, 
 6 feet wide, and 4 feet thick ! 
 
 The Rock of Cashel, but twelve miles from Limerick, — a large 
 lone rock, rising boldly out of a plain, — is of world-wide celeb- 
 rity, by reason of its association with one of the most interest- 
 ing ruins in the kingdom, which still repose on its summit, — 
 those of a grand castle, held by the chiefs of the family Hy Dun- 
 namoi, now called O'Donohue. They consist chiefly of a round- 
 tower, ninety feet high ; a small church in the Norman style, 
 with a stone roof; a cathedral church, in Gothic style; and 
 a castle and monastery ; and yet in addition, are the fine ruins of 
 Hore Abbey at the base of the rock. Let the intelligent reader 
 know of these, and he has at hand strange and enchanting 
 romances in no way inferior to " Kenilworth," or " The Lady of 
 the Lake." 
 
 We shall be pardoned for seeming egotism when we name
 
 DUBLIN. 67 
 
 Loughmore Castle, — a fine old building in ruins, showing yet a 
 massive castellated front, with strong square towers at each end, 
 the one at the right being of great antiquity, the remainder 
 having been built in the sixteenth century. On the opposite side 
 are the church and chapel of Loughmore. The estate was long 
 the seat of the Purcells, from whom, in a maternal line, has 
 probably descended one of the authors of this volume. 
 
 Let our investigator continue his research, and he will be in- 
 formed of the remarkable ruins of Kildare, thirty miles out from 
 Dublin, among which is the Chapel of St. Brigid, called the Fire- 
 house, it being the locality of the perennial fire which the nuns 
 maintained day and night, during a thousand years, for the 
 benefit of strangers and the poor. A thousand years of never 
 extinguished charity-fire ! How incomprehensible the fact and 
 story ! 
 
 Ireland is indeed a land of romance, which is merged in the 
 obscurities of a time which the records of man do not reach or 
 measure. Superstition and general ignorance long prevailed, 
 but the temperament and organism of the race have made a 
 history peculiar to itself. There 's a deal of strength and 
 nationality in the blood. Dilute it, generation after generation, 
 and its idiosyncracies are still there. Where can romance inhere, 
 if not in conditions like these ? What, if not legends of fairies, 
 visions, miracles, could result from the operations of this religious 
 turn of mind, and its accompanying superstitious beliefs ? Castle, 
 church, monastery, abbey, tower, must come into being ; and 
 their convictions were so influential that these people " builded 
 better than they knew." 
 
 We arrive at Maryboro at 7.30 p. m., and here we meet with 
 our first and last experience of a tardy train, which is an hour and 
 a half late at a junction. We remained over night at Borland's 
 Hotel, paying for supper, lodging, and breakfast, $1.50 apiece. 
 At 8.40 a. m. next day, May 2, took train for Dublin again, 
 arriving at 1 1 a. m. This was to be our last day in Erin, and so 
 we went directly to the steamer Longford and engaged " passage 
 out of Ireland," paying for the passage to Liverpool $2.37 each. 
 And now for one more tramp over the Irish metropolis. 
 
 We had been informed of the completion of Christ Church 
 Cathedral, and that on this day the great public opening was to 
 take place. We soon discovered that we were unfortunate in 
 not being one of the dignitaries, as they only had tickets of 
 admission. But no Yankee of good Mood would be three 
 thousand miles from home, and lose a sight on which a million
 
 68 IRELAND. 
 
 dollars had been expended ; and so, with as much faith that we 
 should gain admission to their building, as most of the prelates 
 perhaps had of one day entering " the house not made with 
 hands," we made our demand, and were of course repulsed. 
 Remembering the daring of Strongbow, whose bones were repos- 
 ing inside the cathedral, and that we were of Irish extraction, 
 we were emboldened, and bethought ourselves of who we were ; 
 for, like one of old, we were citizens " of no mean country," and 
 were ready to fight spiritually with the beasts of Ephesus. We 
 made an effort, and came off conquerors. " Americans," said 
 we. That was the charm which held the attention of the official, 
 robed and consequential, with whom we talked, and who was 
 moved by that talismanic word. Although he had refused, and 
 with righteous indignation declared he could not — and perhaps 
 felt that he would not — let us in ; yet, as soon as he knew who 
 we were, he came down from his lofty position and the cathe- 
 dral door swung open. His whole being was filled with a con- 
 sciousness of the good of which he was the happy author. 
 We complacently bowed our compliments, as all triumphing 
 Americans should do ; then we went in and surveyed every- 
 thing, and h>due time were out and taking our last look of the 
 city. 
 
 At 6 p. M. we were on board our steamer ; and soon she steamed 
 out of the harbor and into the bay and channel, and we were 
 once more on the briny deep. A pleasant sail, and a compara- 
 tively quiet one, landed us at 7 a. m., on Saturday, May 3, on 
 the soil of Old England. 
 
 We have with comparative thoroughness — that is, for a tour- 
 ist's statement — given an account of Old Ireland; and now, 
 before we begin our similar account of Old England, we think 
 it well to add a page or two more, and give a few leading 
 points in regard to Ireland as a whole ; for in these chapters, 
 be it anew remembered, we are to try and give such incidental 
 information as will be useful as well as entertaining to the gen- 
 eral reader, so that he will know more of the country than he 
 would learn from mere statements about a few things we 
 chanced to see. 
 
 As is well known, the Emerald Isle — so called from the lux- 
 uriance of vegetation induced by a mild and moist climate — is 
 one of the four divisions of Great Britain, England, Wales, and 
 Scotland being the others. It is separated from England by the 
 Irish Sea and St. George's Channel, and contains an area of 32,53 1 
 square miles. This is not far from the size of the State of Maine,
 
 DUBLIN. 69 
 
 which contains 35,000. Ireland is divided into four provinces, 
 Leinster, Munster, Ulster, and Connaught, and these comprise 
 thirty-two counties. Its greatest population was in 1841, when 
 it amounted to 8,199,853. During the next ten years, owing 
 to famine and emigration, it decreased 1,600,000, that is to 
 6,599,853 ; and this was about 200,000 less than in 1821, when 
 the first census was taken. The number of inhabited houses in 
 1861 was 995,156; in ten years they decreased to 960,352. 
 The average number of persons to a house was seven, giving 
 for 1 87 1 a population of 6,722,464. This is not far from the 
 present population, which is more than ten times that of the 
 State of Maine, 626,915, and twice that of all New England, 
 3,487,924. As New England has 68,460 miles of surface, and 
 Ireland 32,531, it follows that the latter has about four times as 
 many persons to the square mile as the former. 
 
 Ireland has ninety-two harbors and sixty-two lighthouses. 
 There are in all 2,830,000 acres of bog land that is available 
 for fuel, or about one seventh of all the island. At Dublin the 
 mean temperature for the year is fifty degrees, which is seven 
 degrees warmer than the average of Boston ; and there is an 
 average of but three degrees of difference between the extreme 
 northern and southern parts. There is a perpetual moisture, 
 which induces vegetation and maintains unfailing pasturage. This 
 is due to the prevalence of westerly winds, which bring with them 
 the warm moist atmosphere of the Gulf Stream. The average 
 rainfall is thirty-six inches, or about six inches less than at 
 Boston. 
 
 Ireland boasts of great antiquity. We will, however, speak of 
 it only from the time of St. Patrick, who was sent here by Ger- 
 manus of Rome, to convert the people to Christianity. He 
 arrived about the middle of the fifth century, and died in 493, 
 leaving the island nominally Christian. Schools and monas- 
 teries were established ; and so noted did the country become 
 for the learning and piety of its ecclesiastics, that it was called 
 Insula Sanctorum, Isle of Saints. In the year 646 many 
 Anglo Saxons settled on the island, and in 684 it had become 
 of sufficient importance to be invaded by Egfrid, king of North- 
 umberland, who destroyed churches and monasteries. From 
 this time invasions were common. In 1002 Brian Born, who 
 was king of the province of Munster, was powerful enough to 
 expel the Danes who had come in, and was crowned at Jam, 
 " King of all Ireland." Hence Moore's poem, "The Harp that 
 once through Tara's Halls."
 
 70 IRELAND. 
 
 Brian Bom wrought great reforms, for he founded churches 
 and schools, opened roads, built bridges, and fitted out fleets. 
 He introduced surnames, heretofore not in use, and made the 
 marriage contract permanent. The Danes again invaded Ire- 
 land in 1014; and on Good Friday — April 23, of that year — 
 Brian, an old man of eighty years, was killed in his tent, although 
 his party had triumphed. 
 
 Internal dissensions and civil wars followed. The island soon 
 fell into a state of degeneracy, and lost its good character as the 
 Isle of Saints. St. Bernard called the attention of the Church 
 authorities of Rome to its condition, and Pope Eugenius III. 
 sent Cardinal Papiron to restore discipline. In March, 115 2, 
 a synod was held at Kells, when the supremacy of Rome was 
 acknowledged, and the archbishoprics of Dublin and of Tuam 
 were established. In 1 155 a bull is said to have been issued 
 by Pope Adrian IV. conferring the sovereignty of Ireland on 
 Henry II. of England. Next came invasions by two bands of 
 Normans, one under Robert Fitzstephen in n 69, and another 
 under Earl Pembroke (Strongbow) in the same year. Henry II. 
 issued a proclamation recalling Strongbow, and all Englishmen, 
 under pain of outlawry. Then there was a series of interesting 
 battles, sometimes one party being successful, and sometimes 
 the other. 
 
 In 1341 Edward III. ordered that all offices held by Irishmen, 
 or by Englishmen who had estates or wives in Ireland, should 
 be vacated, and filled by Englishmen who had no personal inter- 
 est whatever in the Green Isle. Great resistance and trouble 
 followed, and the English triumphed. 
 
 A parliament was held in Dublin in 1537, when the Act of 
 Supremacy was passed, declaring Henry VIII. supreme head 
 of the Church, prohibiting intercourse with the court of Rome, 
 and making it treason to refuse the oath of supremacy. Then 
 began a new series of wars and troubles. Each subsequent page 
 of history is stained with blood. Insurrections and resistance 
 were oft repeated. Finally, in 1 798, new battles were fought, 
 the English being in the end victorious. The next year a bill 
 of amnesty was passed, and the country settled down into 
 comparative quiet. Jan. 1, 1801, Articles of Union were agreed 
 upon, and from then till now, with occasional outbreaks and 
 riots, England has maintained her hold. Much of the work 
 done by Henry VIII. has been good in its results; but much 
 has proved to be wrong in the extreme. The principle of 
 entailing landed estates tends to impoverish the people, drive
 
 DUBLIN. 71 
 
 them to emigration, and so depopulate the country. These are 
 the seeds of decay for not only Ireland, but for England herself. 
 It is a wrong " so rank it smells to heaven," and deliverance is 
 sure to come. And now, we bid adieu to Ireland, where we 
 have enjoyed so much, and for whose good time coming we 
 watch and wait in sympathy with her sons.
 
 ENGLAND.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 LIVERPOOL — CHESTER — SHREWSBURY — WORCESTER — 
 HEREFORD. 
 
 STEAMERS leave Dublin every week-night for Liverpool, 
 as they do Fall River for New York, and the distance is 
 about the same. It involves a trip of a few miles out of 
 Dublin harbor and bay, across St. George's channel, and four 
 miles up the River Mersey at the other end. It is an English 
 custom to put the name of the river last, while Americans put 
 it first. It would sound very odd to an American to hear the 
 remark River Ohio or River Mississippi ; and so it would to an 
 Englishman, to hear the expression Thames River. 
 
 Every wise tourist, on visiting New York for the first time, is 
 on deck early to see the approaches to the harbor, and the 
 scenery below the city. One visiting Liverpool will do likewise ; 
 for this is to be his first view of the Mother Country. We were 
 on our steamer's deck at 5 o'clock a. m., on Friday morning, 
 May 3. In the distance, on our right, towered up, though 
 somewhat obscurely, the bold headland of Holyhead, a part of 
 Wales. As we approach it we discover the great gorge in the 
 rock, and the bridge over it, and also the white lighthouse and 
 long, substantial breakwater for the defence of the harbor. 
 Sweeping in a curved course to the southeastward we see the 
 Welsh high uplands, with their thrifty farms and many windmills. 
 Behind these, as a splendid background, the Welsh mountains 
 loom up, and the peaks of Snowden and other highlands show 
 themselves. 
 
 We now pass an interesting object, — an assemblage of rocks 
 called the Skerries, three miles or so distant from the Welsh 
 shore. They are very dangerous, and are lighted, being directly 
 in the way of passage to the River Mersey. Next we arrive at 
 Point Lynas, the pilot-station for Liverpool. Near it is Orme's 
 Head, a rough promontory on which is a lighthouse, having a 
 Fre lid light, one of the most powerful in the world. To add 
 to the picturesqueriess of the scenery, here and there are little
 
 76 ENGLAND. 
 
 Welsh villages, cosily situated, and nestling at the base of the 
 hills. Among them is Llandudno and the watering-places ; 
 and so we anticipate a higher type of civilization, signs of which 
 are on every hand. 
 
 Not far from the mouth of the Mersey, fresh evidences of 
 commercial life present themselves. Steamers, pilot-boats, and 
 tugs thicken, and we know we are nearing a port of no ordinary 
 importance. We pass the Northwest Lightship, and soon after 
 hear the bell-buoy on the bar sending out its plaintive warning 
 as it pitches and rolls. Like faithful sentinels are Formby and 
 Crosby lightships ; and at the right is Rock Light, at New 
 Brighton. 
 
 This place is the end of the peninsula, which for five miles 
 stretches down the river, and is the shore opposite Liverpool 
 and its suburbs. It is a pleasant and cheap watering-place, 
 and one much sought by the common people. Steamboats 
 from Liverpool run half-hourly between the places. New 
 Brighton has a good beach, and there are many restaurants 
 along the upper side. An old stone fort is one of the objects 
 of interest, and free to visitors. On any fair day may be seen 
 thousands of people promenading over the beach, or riding 
 in teams or on Irish donkeys, which are at various stations 
 ready for hire, most of them owned by aged men and women, 
 and let for a single ride or by the hour. Here are stands for 
 the sale of round clams (quahaugs, as we call them), muscles, 
 periwinkles, and, it may be, a few poor oysters. There are 
 also cheap refreshment tables, and facilities for the entertain- 
 ment of children, such as Punch and Judy, swings, revolving 
 horses. From this place, along the right bank of the river, 
 the landscape is diversified with low hills, clean fields, woods, 
 and groves, with here and there a little settlement. Opposite 
 the city proper lies Birkenhead, a busy place, with docks and 
 shipping, of its own, and a population of 65,980. In 181 8 
 Birkenhead had but fifty inhabitants, but they have trebled since 
 185 1, a rapidity seldom witnessed in the Old World. 
 
 Up the Mersey on the left side, the landscape is picturesque 
 and rural. Along the river, on comparatively level land, with 
 a slight rise at the rear, and some especially elevated points at 
 the extreme upper end, lies the substantial and sombre city of 
 Liverpool. It has literally forests of masts. There are no 
 wharves extending into the river, but at stated intervals are 
 openings into the famous docks. These are controlled by 
 oaken gates, of which there are eight in all, some of them a
 
 LIVERPOOL. 77 
 
 hundred feet wide. They are opened and closed twice daily, 
 at turns of the tide. The docks are built of hewn stone, the 
 oldest of a perishable sandstone, but the newer of granite. 
 They are built somewhat in the rear of the outer or river 
 docks, and open into each other. The spaces between them 
 are used like our wharves, as sites for large warehouses and 
 sheds of deposit. These docks and landing-places extend five 
 miles on the Liverpool side of the river, and two miles on the 
 Birkenhead side. In the aggregate, the docks cover 404 acres, 
 or about two thirds of a square mile. The aggregate length of 
 the wharf space is sixteen miles on the Liverpool side, and ten 
 miles at Birkenhead. The cost was $50,000,000, $35,000,000 
 of which was expended at Liverpool. The Landing Stage, as 
 it is called, where passage is taken to the steamers, is an enor- 
 mous floating platform, supported on iron tanks, and is along 
 the business centre of the city, outside of the main street or 
 sea-wall, which is five miles long, eleven feet thick, and forty 
 feet in average height from its foundations. 
 
 At the beginning of the eighteenth century Liverpool had but 
 one dock; but between 1830 and i860, over twenty-five new 
 ones were opened. 
 
 The place is of considerable antiquity, and is first spoken of, 
 in any authentic record, in a charter of Henry II., bearing date 
 1 1 73, by which document the privileges of a seaport were 
 secured; and in 1207 King John granted it a municipal 
 charter. Henry III. constituted it a free borough in 1229. 
 It made but little progress for centuries, and was a scene of 
 sanguinary conflict in 1644, for during the contest between 
 Charles I. and his Parliament, this place resisted the King. 
 After a month's determined opposition, it was taken by Prince 
 Rupert, and was soon afterwards largely reduced in population 
 by pestilence and famine. In 1699 it had not more than five 
 thousand inhabitants. 
 
 There is no other foreign city so influenced by the United 
 States. Its condition, advancement, and progress have been in 
 proportion to our advancement ; for upon the fluctuations of 
 trade it has, for a third of a century, been somewhat dependent. 
 The general look of the city is like that of the older parts of 
 New York or Boston, which it resembles more than it does any 
 place in Europe. 
 
 Its streets are generally wide, clean, and are always well 
 paved. Its buildings are very substantial. They are of brick 
 or stone ; but from the large amount of smoke from the bitumi-
 
 78 ENGLAND. 
 
 nous coal, and the damp, and — in winter — foggy atmosphere, 
 they have an old and dingy appearance. Particularly is this 
 true of most of the churches, with their square towers. The city 
 proper has few scry good church edifices; but it has many old 
 ones, some of them surrounded by burial-grounds, in the very 
 heart of the city. These churchyards are not only treeless, but 
 they are without shrubs, or even grass. An acre is sometimes 
 covered with slabs of stone, level with the ground. They are 
 about three feet wide and six long, set close together, with 
 hardly a crevice, and on them are cut the epitaphs. 
 
 St. George's Hall, a colossal and superb structure, has one of 
 the largest organs in the world, and exhibitions of it are given 
 two or three times a week for the small admission fee of a six- 
 pence (twelve cents). At the time of our visit, there were full 
 one thousand people present. It has a good art-gallery, in 
 which are many fine paintings by the Masters. 
 
 Drunkenness abounds. In no other place did we see so 
 much drunkenness or so many rum shops. A visit to the 
 police court, and a stay of a couple of hours there, exhibited 
 more inebriation, poverty, and destitution than we could im- 
 agine as existing as we walked through the streets of the city. 
 We were informed by the judge that he had on his book one 
 hundred and ninety-four cases for drunkenness alone, or crimes 
 growing immediately out of it; and that, in some way all must 
 be disposed of that day, as to-morrow was likely to bring as 
 many or more. Some offenders had been before his court over 
 sixty times. Such victims were released, as would be so many 
 wild animals or lepers, the kind-hearted judge simply lecturing 
 them, and expressing his sorrow for what in these years he had 
 been compelled to witness daily. He was humane in all his 
 considerations. We could but tell him that he was a remark- 
 able man, to be able for years to be in the presence of this 
 mass of evil and degradation, and not become hardened in 
 feeling, but retain a sympathetic yet judicious determination 
 and manhood. Never did a case occur where with more pro- 
 priety the old remark might be justly made, " the right man in 
 the right place." We went away somewhat sad, as we thought 
 of the upright judge's remark, made so innocently, that we 
 intelligent Americans prohibited this evil and governed it bet- 
 ter than did the people of England. Said he : " Close up 
 the rum shops as your people do, and my occupation would 
 end." Alas ! Would that we did thus close them, for so 
 would most of our judges' occupations be gone. But no ! In
 
 CHESTER. 79 
 
 enlightened Boston there are churches, schoolhouses, and 
 asylums, — and thousands of vile rumholes sandwiched be- 
 tween, making void the good done by the former, and furnish- 
 ing inmates for station-house and prison. 
 
 The suburbs of Liverpool are very fine, and in appearance 
 much like those of Boston. Horse-cars and omnibuses con- 
 stantly ply between the city and these places. Sefton Park is 
 inexpressibly fine in itself, and in its distant rural scenery ; and 
 Toxton (Brookline, we might consider it) is of great rural 
 beauty. The distant view of the old red church tower, cathe- 
 dral-like and grand, situated on elevated ground, peering .up out 
 of shade-trees that obscured other parts of the building, and 
 even the larger portion of the village itself; small lakes gleaming 
 in the sun ; the evidence of high civilization, — made us long 
 to see more of Old England, — of these "sweet Auburns," 
 lovely villages of the plain ; and we were soon gratified, for at 
 2. 20 o'clock p. m., Saturday, we took cars for the city of 
 
 CHESTER. 
 
 Who that travels would risk his reputation as a person of 
 taste, and not go to Chester? A fare of $1.50 each brought us 
 to this Mecca ; for as the Jews of old must go to Mt. Zion, 
 so must the England-visiting American go to Chester. First, a 
 few words about the city itself; and here the brain acts slug- 
 gishly, and the pen rebels at the thought of describing what has 
 been described so many times before. We arrived after an 
 hour and forty minutes' ride from Liverpool. 
 
 Chester is the capital of Cheshire, and is situated on the River 
 Dee, with a population of 35,701. It was a Roman station 
 known as Deva Castra. It is nearly surrounded by the river, 
 and the original portion of the city is encompassed with an 
 ancient wall having low towers at special points. This wall is in 
 perfect condition, and is the best specimen of its kind in all 
 England. The foundations are Roman, and part of this work 
 is visible, and is an item of much interest. The upper portions, 
 resting on the Roman base, date from the time of Edward I., 
 who was born at Westminster in 1239, and died 1307 ; and so 
 the wall is nearly six hundred years old. It is about eight feet 
 thick at the top, and varies in thickness at the bottom according 
 to its height, which, of course, is determined by the irregular 
 surface of the land. The space enclosed is a parallelogram, 
 planned like all Roman camps, with a gate or entrance in the
 
 80 ENGLAND. 
 
 middle of each of the four sides, the main streets intersecting 
 at the centre of the town. 
 
 There are at stated intervals stone stairs, leading up to the 
 walk at the top of the wall, and this is a common promenade 
 for the public, and more especially for strangers, as from this 
 elevation, a large portion of the entire city is seen, and the view 
 of the outside scenery is most enchanting. 
 
 There are streets, and a busy population of dwellers on both 
 sides of the walls. Here, too, is a noble field called Grosvenor 
 Tark, many acres in extent, used as pleasure-grounds for the 
 public, or as a parade for soldiers, whose barracks are near. As 
 a background, bordering it, half a mile away, are the grounds 
 of fine mansions, half embowered with trees. As we pass around 
 to the left, we see the muddy banks and meadow-like borders of 
 the River Dee. Opposite this, making the other shore, is a 
 dirty fishing-town, with its principal street extending up from 
 the river. This is called Sty Lane, — at least by some people. 
 Here we saw from the walls, where we were walking, a Hogarth- 
 like nest of dilapidated buildings and destitution. There were 
 the sights and sounds of a veritable Saturday-night row, in which 
 men, women, and children were promiscuously mingled. It was 
 a good specimen of a bad original. After a sight like this, we 
 were inclined to give Hogarth less credit as an inventor than 
 we had before done ; for he had sights worthy his pencil at 
 hand, without an effort of his imagination. 
 
 Continuing our walk along to where the river runs sluggishly 
 beside the walls, we extend our delightful tramp. Encircling 
 the old town thus, occupies us nearly an hour. On our way, 
 just inside the walls, are ruins of small lodges, antique and ivy- 
 clad ; and on the top of the wall itself is a little tower, on 
 which is an inscription, cut in a stone tablet, telling that from its 
 floor King Charles I. beheld the defeat of Rowton Moor, in 
 1645. These walls are built of a dark-reddish stone, well laid 
 in white mortar, and have a very antiquated appearance. There 
 is a breastwork, or parapet, three feet high on each side for pro- 
 tection, and capped with long, rough-cut stones. Having fin- 
 ished our circuit we, much against our inclination, go down one 
 of the stairways, and into the street within the walls, where we 
 continue our explorations, confessing that our early dislike of the 
 task of wTiting up this city has about vanished. So marked was 
 the early impression of peculiar interest and novelty, and so fully 
 satisfying to our anticipations, that when we finally left the city 
 we could not help feeling as did one of old when he said,
 
 CHESTER. 81 
 
 with the change of but one word, — "If I ever forget thee O 
 Chester, may my right hand forget her cunning." We were not 
 the first Americans who have thought and felt thus ; no one who 
 has ever seen Chester will or can forget her. The cry once was, 
 " Great is Diana of the Ephesians." We ejaculate " Great is 
 Chester of the Britons." 
 
 The queer old streets are interesting in the extreme. Narrow 
 and short, but clean, they are said to be at right-angles with 
 each other ; and perhaps they are. The buildings are quaint, 
 antique, and of all designs, the second story often projecting 
 beyond the first, and the third beyond the second, and the gable 
 end out over that. Their general appearance so attracts atten- 
 tion that nothing in particular is noted, so far as relates to the 
 arrangement of the city itself. The Rows, as they are called, 
 that is, the covered sidewalks in the older and business 
 streets, are built in under the second stories, and are paved. 
 The different store-sections are out of level, each with its neigh- 
 bor, though tolerably level through the length of the entire 
 streets. Often the ceilings of these walks are low enough to 
 touch with the hand ; generally the floor, or pavement, is raised 
 from two to four feet above the grade of the street. Of course 
 the shops are back of these. The idea is not a bad one. In 
 times of foul weather or of strong sun, the Rows are protections. 
 The entire width between the buildings being given to teams, 
 renders it much safer for pedestrians. 
 
 The majority of the buildings are built with their ends to the 
 street, showing gables with the high roof or attic ends, with 
 elaborate decorations, and these afford a fine opportunity for a 
 display of quaint finish. Many of these buildings have a frame- 
 work of oak, more or less carved, with brickwork fitted into the 
 frame, and plastered and painted, generally with subdued tints. 
 The people are to be commended for the good taste and judg- 
 ment displayed in their rebuilding; for when a new edifice 
 takes the place of one removed, the new design, while it may 
 increase the height of the stories, and add other real improve- 
 ments and conveniences, yet preserves the old style. Chester 
 is a lively, bustling, and enterprising business place — a gem in 
 its way. 
 
 Of course the cathedral comes in for early attention. So long 
 as Charles Kingsley — Canon Kingsley, for here he was made 
 canon in 1869 — is remembered, so long will the cathedral be 
 of interest. It is situated in the very centre of the city. Jammed 
 in among other buildings, with no quiet grass and aged trees 
 
 6
 
 82 ENGLAND. 
 
 about it, the pavements lead up to its very doors. It is irregu- 
 lar in outline, dark- reddish-brown in color, aged in appearance, 
 with a massive low tower, but no spire above it. The transept, 
 choir, and nave windows are of monstrous size, not much higher 
 than wide, filled with elegant perpendicular Gothic tracery, and 
 divided into many compartments. The interior is in good re- 
 pair, — restored, as it is termed. Here, as in all cathedrals, 
 there is a stone floor, and hundreds of inscriptions that tell of 
 those who are quietly resting beneath. 
 
 " Their labors done, securely laid 
 In this, their last retreat, 
 Unheeded o'er their silent dust 
 The storms of life shall beat." 
 
 The building was originally the abbey of St. Werburgh, built 
 for the Benedictines, — begun in 1095 by Hugh Lupus, assisted 
 by St. Anselm, — and retains its original design. 
 
 The next object of interest, and one truly remarkable, is the 
 church of St. John, once the cathedral. It is situated about 
 five minutes' walk away from the cathedral proper, and, unlike 
 that, stands in a large green, or close, for centuries used as a 
 burial-ground. The red tower is very high, yet without a spire, 
 and partly in ruins. It stands almost alone in solitary beauty, 
 with picturesque ivy-clad cloisters and arches, presenting a 
 striking and wonderful group, which tells of the remote past. 
 The old tower, colossal and grand, but in such decay as to make 
 it dangerous to ring the bells (and fallen since we saw it), is 
 connected with what was formerly the nave of the church ; and 
 this is now, with slight additions for a chancel, all that is used, a 
 new end having years ago been put on at the line of transepts. 
 St. John's is of early English architecture in some parts, and 
 late Norman in others, having large, plain, round columns that 
 carry the arches of the clerestory. These columns lean out- 
 ward from the perpendicular, making the nave wider at the top, 
 and the widening was thought to have been caused by a settling 
 of the old stone groining. On making repairs a few years since, 
 the height of the clerestory walls was foolishly reduced some 
 four feet, and a lower wood ceiling put in to lessen the weight 
 on the columns ; but it was at length discovered that the original 
 was built for effect, — whether for good or for ill, we will not 
 decide. In picturesqueness never excelled, St. John's Church, 
 with its grounds and accompanying ruins, not only divides the 
 honors with the cathedral, but by many would be named first.
 
 CHESTER. 83 
 
 Chester is the seat of rare monuments of the past. The 
 castle, built by Lupus, Earl of Chester, seven hundred and more 
 years ago, while it has been largely re-constructed, is used as 
 the shire hall, and contains many portraits of noted men who 
 have been distinguished in the city's history. Near the castle is 
 a fine old stone bridge crossing the Dee, with a single arch of 
 two hundred feet. There is, in the suburbs, a curious manor- 
 house, once belonging to the abbey of St. Werburgh ; Eaton 
 Hall, the seat of the Marquis of Westminster ; and a ground 
 where famous races are held. Cheese fairs occur once a month, 
 promiscuous fairs three times a year, and markets twice a week ; 
 and the city gives the title of Earl to the Prince of Wales. 
 
 At 10 a. m. we visited the military barracks, and in the parade- 
 ground, with thousands of other spectators, witnessed the usual 
 Sunday drill, and also the military evolutions, such as striking 
 tents and stacking arms. Some five hundred soldiers were en- 
 gaged in these operations on this Christian Sunday, made espec- 
 ially sacred by its associations with the Prince of Peace. At this 
 hour, amid the sound of innumerable chimes of from three to 
 five bells each, were the intermingling sound of trumpets and the 
 clamor of war, — so confused yet each so prominent as to make 
 one doubt which had the inside track, church or army, God or 
 Satan. 
 
 In the afternoon we were at the cathedral, and, the service 
 being intoned, the echoes made confusion worse confounded. 
 We finally saw more clearly than ever before the force of the re- 
 mark of one of old, when he said : " In the church I had rather 
 speak five words with my understanding, that by my voice I 
 might teach others also, than ten thousand words in an un- 
 known tongue." We have thought, while enveloped in this 
 confusion, that it would be well for the managers of cathedral 
 services everywhere, to be thoughtful as St. Paul was, and say : 
 " Whether pipe or harp, except they give a distinction in the 
 sounds, how shall it be known what is piped or harped ? " 
 
 There is one especial object of American interest. In the 
 chapter-house there hang over the doors two flags that were car- 
 ried by the Cheshire Regiment — the 2 2d — at the Battle of 
 Bunker Hill in our American Revolution; and they were also 
 carried by General Wolfe at the taking of Quebec in 1 759, six- 
 teen years before. It will thus be seen that soldiers from this 
 county were at Charlestown, June 17, 1775. 
 
 There are some very ancient houses of particular note. They 
 are of the old timbered and panel-plastered fashion, with very
 
 84 ENGLAND. 
 
 fine specimens of profuse and sometimes grotesque carving. 
 Among them is God's Providence House. Its three stories 
 and gable project over each other as before described. The 
 historical fact is that, when the plague prevailed, there were 
 deaths in every house on the street save this one, and after all 
 was over, the owner put this inscription upon it, which re- 
 mains to this day : 
 
 God's Providence is my Salvation. 
 
 Of bold and high decoration, by carving of the wooden parts, 
 is Stanley House, with its three gables. This is one of the 
 best specimens of ancient timber and plaster-work to be fofind 
 in England. 
 
 On Bridge Street there is an ancient Roman bath that well 
 repays a visit, for we are there permitted to look upon work 
 a thousand years old. Do we realize or comprehend the 
 fact? No; but the impression, with a photographic fidelity, 
 has been made on the mind, and will never be effaced. Let 
 what will happen, so long as memory acts and intelligence 
 remains, the good influence of these impressions will endure. 
 The mind is truly, as the poet has expressed it, — 
 
 Like the vase in which roses have once been distilled, 
 You may break, you may ruin the vase, if you will, 
 But the scent of the roses will hang round it still. 
 
 In closing our description of grand old Chester, we will 
 name the fact that in Trinity Church are the tombs of the poet 
 Thomas Parnell, who was born at Dublin, 1679, and died at 
 Chester in July, 171 7; and of the eminent commentator, 
 Matthew Henry, born at Broad Oak, Flintshire, 1662, and 
 died at Nantwich, June 22, 17 14. He became pastor of a 
 church in Chester — perhaps Trinity — in 1687, and remained 
 till 1 702, a period of twenty-five years. The Commentary was 
 the result of his lectures in exposition of the Bible, the whole of 
 which is said to have been thus passed in critical review during 
 his ministry at Chester. He continued the lectures at Hackney, 
 to which place he removed in 171 2. The first collected edition 
 was published at London, in five volumes, in 1710, but to 
 Chester really belongs the honor of being the place where this 
 work, so well known the Protestant world over, had its birth. 
 
 It would be pleasant to linger in this venerable place. We 
 had enjoyed so much antiquity at Chester that we could hardly 
 endure the shock of being suddenly dropped into some modern
 
 SHREWSBURY. 85 
 
 spot ; and so the place set down in our programme as next 
 in order was the one, of all others, admirably in keeping with our 
 purpose. This was the good old domestic town of 
 
 SHREWSBURY, 
 
 of well-known Cake notoriety. We took passage at 5.10 p.m. 
 this same Sunday evening ; and while the sun was high 
 above the horizon, at 7 o'clock, we were safely landed at Sta- 
 tion Hotel. Soon after supper, as English people call it, we 
 were out for a tramp. There 's always an indescribable impa- 
 tience in the tourist to see the place. There' s a great deal of 
 the can' t-comfortably-wait condition, and it generally has soon 
 to be gratified. We were early in love with the town. How 
 comfortably we had been let down from Chester, and how un- 
 harmed we felt ! The quaintness discovered in the narrow 
 streets and the ancient buildings made it a second Chester ; but 
 we thought we saw in the mansions more of stateliness, costli- 
 ness, and evidences of a substantial English aristocracy. The 
 better class of houses were like the first-class three-story brick 
 mansions at Salem and Newburyport, making one feel at home. 
 Here and there were newer buildings of modern style, which 
 made a worthy connecting link between the old dispensation 
 and the new ; for there were buildings as modern as are any- 
 where built, and some as ancient as are to be found anywhere, 
 almost equalling those so justly adored at Chester. Shrewsbury 
 is the shire town of Shropshire, and has a population of 23,406. 
 It has the remains of an ancient castle, and some of the old 
 walls of the city are yet standing. The River Severn, a sluggish 
 and muddy stream, some three hundred feet wide, divides the 
 town. The older portion is connected by two bridges, and also 
 by a cheap rope-ferry, with the other side, on which are rural 
 residences and public-entertainment grounds. 
 
 When we speak of the River Severn our interest is intensi- 
 fied by the thought of a great historic fact. In 1428, by 
 order of Clement VIII., the body of Wycliffe, which since 1415 
 had been buried in a dunghill, to which it had been consigned 
 by order of the Council of Constance, was exhumed and 
 burned to ashes, and these were thrown into the little River 
 Swift, a tributary of the Avon. This gave birth to the fine old 
 verse : — 
 
 The Avon to the Severn runs, 
 The Severn to the si 1 ; 
 
 And Wycliffe's dust shall spread abroad 
 Wide as the waters be.
 
 86 ENGLAND. 
 
 The river curves, and partly encircles the city ; and on its 
 banks we found the public park, and near it St. Chad's circular 
 stone church, with its large square tower above a portico, 
 crowned with a belfry, under which are great clock dials. The 
 park is simply an ordinarily well-kept grass ground, of perhaps 
 one third the size of Boston Common. It has three or four 
 superb avenues of old lime-trees, and Quarry Walk is one of the 
 finest in Europe. Tradition has it that all of these linden-trees 
 were set out by one man, more than a century and a half 
 ago. The ruins of Battlefield Church, now little appreciated, 
 roofless and dilapidated, are four miles away. This is famous 
 as being the place where Sir John Falstaff " fought an hour 
 by Shrewsbury Clock." 
 
 The town was an important one as early as the twelfth cen- 
 tury, and prominent at times as being the place of royal resi- 
 dence. Parliaments were held here in 1283 and in 1398. In 
 1403 — ninety years before the discovery of America by 
 Columbus — the famous Battle of Hotspur was fought near 
 here, in which that distinguished soldier was killed. In 1277 
 it was the temporary residence of Edward I., and to this place 
 he removed the King's Bench and Court of Exchequer during 
 the Wars of the Roses. The inhabitants took part with the 
 House of York, and it was the asylum of the queen of Edward 
 IV. after having given birth to the princes Edward and Richard, 
 the two children who are supposed to have been murdered in 
 the Tower of London by Richard III. As will be seen, the place 
 is intimately connected with historic facts. Remembrance of 
 this contributes a charm not well expressed in words. As we 
 walked over these streets, through which distinguished person- 
 ages have walked, and by houses which intelligent people have 
 occupied for a thousand years, — as we thought of many gene- 
 rations who here lived, labored, and died, their dust now min- 
 gling with the soil of its ancient burial-grounds, or resting in the 
 tombs of its venerable churches, within sound of the same ves- 
 per bells to which we were listening at the close of this pleasant 
 Sunday evening, — as these reflections took possession of our 
 minds, the quiet sanctity of the Puritan New England Sunday 
 was about us, and we felt that we were in a befitting place to 
 end a day so well and interestingly begun at Chester. 
 
 Sunday night is passed, and Monday, May 5, is at hand. As 
 usual we are impatient for more experiences. Our thoughts are 
 mingled with regrets, tinted with righteous indignation, that 
 American tourists so neglect these places, and hurry to others of
 
 SHREWSBURY. 87 
 
 more metropolitan renown, but of less real interest to any one 
 who would see England in her best estate. Their loss — a 
 great one — is nobody's gain. A fine walk this of to-day, 
 through street after street of good business activity. 
 
 Now was the time to attend to another duty. In passing a 
 store we saw a notice, high up on a building, that here were made 
 the original Shrewsbury cakes. We found that the recipe had 
 been in use for over one hundred years, dating from 1 760 ; 
 that for as long a time the cakes had been there manufactured, 
 and were now enjoying an enviable reputation the world over ; 
 and also that it was not an uncommon occurrence to send them 
 by express to the United States. They are put up in round, 
 blue, paper-covered, pasteboard boxes, about six inches in diam- 
 eter and four inches deep, the cakes being of a nature that will 
 bear transportation. We are soon in possession of them, but 
 examination does not make us over-enthusiastic. If at home 
 we should be even less so. They are thin cakes, say less than 
 a quarter of an inch thick, and five inches in diameter, — appar- 
 ently made without spice, but very sweet, fat, and crisp. As 
 nearly as we could judge they are composed simply of flour, 
 sugar, eggs, and butter, the latter in generous proportions. 
 There 's a deal in a name, and in the reputation gained through 
 the sluggish lapse of a century's advertising and vigilant atten- 
 tion to business. Our young saleswoman is quite pert in her 
 independence, and scorns the idea of selling or even hinting at 
 a recipe for their manufacture ; and we go away consoling our- 
 selves with the idea that we have many times eaten similar 
 things at home, and shall again, and animated by the conviction 
 that, 
 
 " A rose by any other name would smell as sweet." 
 
 It may be our judgment is at fault, and that they are in posses- 
 sion of a precious as well as a remunerative secret. 
 
 Continuing our walk, we met with St. Mary's Church, which 
 has every requirement of a cathedral except a bishop. Had we 
 not seen churches of the kind before, we should have gone 
 deeply into enthusiasm now ; for here was a grand structure, 
 thoroughly antique, with nave, choir, transepts, chapels, ancient 
 monuments, and fine windows, — one very large, as good as 
 any in all England, and six hundred years old. It is an inclina- 
 tion of the tourist to ejaculate at every new place, " This is the 
 most interesting we have seen." We are at a loss to know why 
 St. Mary's is riot oftener spoken of as among the favored few, 
 for it is all of that.
 
 88 ENGLAND. 
 
 Shrewsbury, grand old town, full of interest, and antiquities 
 we have not time to name, is itself a museum of antiquity. We 
 know much more than we did when we first surveyed it, but 
 travel and observation have not at all dimmed our admiration. 
 At n.io a. m. we move on to our next place, which was the 
 prototype of, and gave its name to, the Heart of our Massachu- 
 setts Commonwealth, 
 
 WORCESTER. 
 
 We arrived at 2 p. m. in a mild rain, the first we had been 
 compelled to walk out in since our journey began. Valises de- 
 posited at a hotel, we were, as usual, soon out to survey the 
 place. Like Shrewsbury, it is situated on the River Severn, 
 which runs along the rear part of the place. It contains 33,2 21 
 inhabitants, was once a walled city, and vestiges of the walls 
 remain. The Danes destroyed it and rebuilt it about 894, and 
 it was burned by Hardicanute, the last of the Danish royal 
 dynasty in England, in 1041. It suffered from frequent incursions 
 of the Welsh, and was one of the principal cities of the ancient 
 Britons. In the early period of the Saxon dynasty it became 
 the second bishopric of Mercia. Having espoused the cause 
 of Charles I. it was greatly troubled by the soldiers of Parlia- 
 ment; but on Sept. 3, 165 1, the final battle, termed by Crom- 
 well "a crowning mercy," was here fought by the Royalists 
 under Charles on the one side, and Cromwell on the other, 
 which resulted in routing the former, and ended in a defeat 
 from which he never recovered. 
 
 Samuel Butler the poet, of " Hudibras " celebrity, received 
 the rudimentary elements of his education in the schools here ; 
 and the celebrated Lord John Somers was born here in 1651. 
 
 The city is built mostly of brick, and, from the number of 
 gardens and shade-trees, has a rural appearance. The river is 
 crossed by an old stone bridge of several arches, and along 
 the bank next the city proper, and below the land elevation, is 
 a promenade, a mile or more long, following the curve of 
 the river. In portions of the place an active business is done, 
 and enterprise is everywhere manifest. Except that the build- 
 ings are of brick or stone, it well reminds one of our Massa- 
 chusetts Worcester. A few of the houses are two or three 
 centuries old. 
 
 It is a marked place for antiquities, and foremost among 
 them is the cathedral, which is built of light-drab sandstone, 
 in the form of a double cross, having four transepts. It is
 
 WORCESTER. 89 
 
 426 feet long; the western transepts are 180 feet through, and 
 the eastern, 128 feet. The tower is at the centre, or at the 
 junction of the nave, choir, and east transepts, and is 193 
 feet high. It is very elaborately decorated, ending with a rich 
 battlement and lofty turrets. It was founded in 680, but the 
 present edifice dates from the fourteenth century. It has sur- 
 rounding grounds, and is in most perfect repair, both the exter- 
 ior and interior having been lately restored. 
 
 A few words once for all are needed in relation to this word 
 restored. As will readily be conceived, buildings erected of a 
 somewhat perishable material are more or less in constant 
 decay. The degree depends on the nature of the stone, its 
 exposure, and the extent of its elaboration ; but all stone is 
 subject to disintegration, and the buildings were so long in 
 process of erection, that the older portions were in need of 
 repair before the newer were finished. In these latter days, 
 being more neglected, much dilapidation existed, and im- 
 portant parts of the edifices were threatened with entire de- 
 struction. A new spirit of enterprise has been infused into 
 the people, and repairs have been vigorously prosecuted. In 
 some instances, large portions have been refaced on the 
 outside. 
 
 In the instance of Worcester Cathedral, the great tower was 
 nearly rebuilt ten years ago. More particularly has there 
 been an interest in the work of redecorating the interiors. 
 This has consisted, first of all, in the removal of whitewash, 
 which had been put on. A time has been when the common 
 judgment of all bishops approved its use. It gave a clean 
 look, but injured the general effect. Cathedrals are generally 
 finished over head with stone arches and ribs ; and the 
 wooden roof is slated, tiled, or covered with metal. Some- 
 times the stone-work of the ceilings was plastered and blocked 
 off in imitation of stone. The present taste — without doubt 
 largely induced by the late Sir Gilbert Scott — is to clean 
 off this wash and leave the stone as nearly as possible in its 
 natural condition. It was a common practice in olden times 
 to color and ornament stone-work, and as the wash has been 
 removed, paintings, often grotesque, are found, and always left 
 as a memento of the past. Eventually, all cathedrals will prob- 
 ably be decorated in high colors and fancy designs. Some such 
 paintings are already begun in unimportant parts by way of 
 experiment. As the walls now look somewhat bare, and as 
 a love for display in service is on the increase, there is a
 
 90 ENGLAND. 
 
 strong desire for new glass of the very highest colors. It is to 
 be expected that the same spirit will not rest till the decoration 
 is also in gorgeous hues. In a few cases the stone is so 
 well put together, and of such a tint, as to make it sacrilege to 
 interfere with it ; but in a majority of churches such decorating 
 would harmonize well with the gay windows and rich interior 
 stone finish, and really be an improvement. 
 
 Another change is the removal of the organs from the choir- 
 screens, originally located at the line of choir and transepts. 
 They have been removed in a majority of cases to the side of 
 the choir, and much to the improvement of the edifice. All 
 cathedrals that we visited have been restored more or less as 
 described, and a majority of them are finished. When a resto- 
 ration of stone-work has been made of any especial part, as new 
 door-work or a window, the work has been done in the style of 
 the period. Of course all changes since the last period of Gothic 
 architecture — the perpendicular — have been made in that style ; 
 so that at times we find in one structure all the styles, from the 
 Norman down through the whole four. This method of opera- 
 tion must receive general, if not universal sanction, since we find 
 it invariably pursued. 
 
 On cathedrals generally are chimes of bells, on which the 
 quarter and half hours are struck by a few notes ; and in Worces- 
 ter Cathedral is, also, a large barrel, of music-box construction, 
 by which at especial times in the day, as at 9 A. m., i 2 M., 3 and 6 
 p. m., an entire tune is played on the bells. For every day of the 
 month there is a new tune, a list of the music being at the 
 door. On the day of our visit was played " The Harp that 
 once through Tara's Halls." 
 
 It would be an impossibility to describe in detail these great 
 works of art, the cathedrals of England. Little more can be 
 done than name things of especial interest. So far as the in- 
 terior of Worcester Cathedral is concerned, it is very in- 
 viting, and has interesting monuments. The impression is 
 not quite what one would imagine as he thinks of an edifice 
 over four hundred feet long, for sight never conveys an idea of 
 its actual length ; but the impression is that you are looking at 
 a colossal church — one larger than you have ever before seen. 
 You admire the lofty tower, think it of elegant design, propor- 
 tions, and finish, that it looks new, — as it really is, — but get 
 no impressions of the great age of the building. 
 
 From the bridge, looking back to the left, you see an elegant 
 picture — the river low down, a terraced walk at its side, the
 
 WORCESTER. 91 
 
 land surface some ten or fifteen feet above. An eighth of a 
 mile or so distant, half embowered in fine trees, is the cathe- 
 dral. -The upper parts loom high above the branches, and the 
 tower rises still higher. The rear end of the cathedral choir, 
 with its great east window, projects beyond the grove, and is 
 in full view from our point of observation. From this place the 
 city has a rural rather than a commercial or manufacturing ap- 
 pearance. Let one stand on the bridge and view this scene, 
 and listen to the sweet notes of the bells. The mellow and 
 refined sound — we had almost said the intellectual demonstra- 
 tion — of the cathedral bells, as by an intuition of its own, insti- 
 tutes a comparison between this day of civilization and that of 
 the rude savage, and then if ever, one sees and knows that the 
 world moves. 
 
 In the cathedral are monuments of marked and distinguished 
 men. Here reposes the dust of King John ; and bedimmed 
 with dust, in sombre repose and ancient glory, is an effigy to his 
 memory. He died in 1 216, or more than 667 years ago. Here 
 lies the body of Bishop Stillingfleet, who was made Bishop of 
 Worcester in 1689, and died ten years later. 
 
 Adjoining the cathedral are fine cloisters, or covered and 
 partly enclosed corridors, for walking and meditation. These on 
 the open side are built with piers and arches, filled with stone 
 tracery. They open into the quadrangle, which is grassed over, 
 but roofless, of which the cloisters form the sides. On the 
 grounds, and in those adjoining, are the residences of the bishop 
 and other dignitaries of the cathedral ; also, the Cathedral, or 
 King's School. One can hardly imagine the beauty of these 
 great cathedral grounds, — the grouping of its buildings ; the 
 finely kept lawns ; the shady walks ; the atmosphere of repose, 
 broken only by the sound of the rooks, that are in the ancient 
 tree-tops, or by the quarter-hour bells so sweetly disturbing it, 
 and solemnly proclaiming that a new division of time has been 
 joined to those before the flood. How admonitory the sounds 
 are ! Not to all listeners are they thought-hardening, but the 
 reverse. Now and then, by night and by day, all do think, and 
 so the inanimate bells preach effectually, and as the living 
 preacher cannot always do. 
 
 Among the many interesting churches here is St. Andrew's, 
 with its fine old tower and spire, 245 feet high, — a Bunker Hill 
 monument in height, with 25 feet added. 
 
 The pottery manufactories must be named, for their produc- 
 tions are among the finest of our times, competing even with
 
 92 ENGLAND. 
 
 those of Sevres. The management of these establishments 
 kindly opens them to the public, and all parts of the work may 
 be inspected. Their warerooms present a display that is inter- 
 esting in the extreme. The results of many years of experiment 
 are here on exhibition, and they are remarkable triumphs of 
 mind over matter. The fine blending of tints, the high degree 
 of finish attained in representing fruits, landscapes, and flowers, 
 are truly wonderful. We were informed that our own Boston 
 has its constant share of these products. 
 
 Remaining over night, in the evening we are entertained by a 
 thunder-shower, the first we have experienced for the season. 
 Heavy thunder and vivid lightning, accompanied by warm and 
 refreshing rain, remind us of home. 
 
 We should have before stated that in this, as in all the Eng- 
 lish cathedral towns, service is held in the cathedral at 1 1 a. m. 
 and 3 i>. M. daily. There is no sermon, but the regular morning 
 and evening prayers of the Church. We were present and 
 enjoyed the grand organ music and singing ; but the intoned 
 services and its accompaniment of echoes, confused and neu- 
 tralized the spirit of worship. A few persons, perhaps twenty 
 in all, were present, aside from the clergy and choir. Most of 
 them were strangers, as we were, drawn thither by curiosity, but 
 treated in the kindest manner, and every facility given for enjoy- 
 ment. We were even invited into the stalls, which are the chief 
 seats in the synagogue. We occupied them readily ; at the 
 expense of being accused of Phariseeism we may say, in a whis- 
 per, that we desired them. We went to the top of the tower 
 and were delighted by the view of highland, vale, river, grove, 
 and the city itself. Here, as in all cathedrals, men are in waiting 
 to show persons over the edifice, and call their attention to 
 things of especial interest. They are dressed in black, with 
 white cravats and flowing black robes, which add much dignity 
 to their appearance. At ioa.m., Tuesday, we left Worcester 
 for another cathedral town, 
 
 HEREFORD. 
 
 At n.30 we have just arrived, and find our pronunciation at 
 fault. 77*r/--e-ford, say the people, not JJcre-ford, as we had 
 spoken it. Well, thus corrected, we speak it as well as they to 
 the manner born. Our ride here, and in fact all the way from 
 Liverpool, has been through no very striking scenery. The 
 land is well kept, and about one quarter of it is under cultiva-
 
 HEREFORD. 93 
 
 tion. We notice the absence of land divisions. As few as 
 possible are used, and those are hedges. 
 
 Here we call the reader's attention to the plan of travel we 
 are pursuing. We decided not to hurry to London, as most 
 Americans do, — stopping only at Chester, Stratford-on-Avon, 
 and Oxford ; we would see Ireland and Scotland well, and Eng- 
 land thoroughly. We therefore, on leaving Ireland, went directly 
 to Liverpool, which is on the extreme western side of England, 
 and about two thirds of the way north from its lower coast. 
 Thence we went southerly to Chester, then to Worcester, and 
 now we are at Hereford. It is our intention to work down to 
 Salisbury and Winchester, stopping at other cathedral towns on 
 the way, and thence to take a northerly route to London. This 
 line of travel carries us over the entire western part of the island. 
 
 Hereford is a substantial English town. It has many antique 
 buildings, of the jutting-story construction, — good examples of 
 the timber-and-plaster pattern, — and wide streets. There is a 
 thrifty look about the inhabitants, and their number is 18,335, 
 — or was in 1 8 7 1 , for that ;s the year from which date the 
 statistics. 
 
 We could but think of some of the celebrated men who had 
 looked upon these identical scenes. We thought of the Kem- 
 bles, who here managed the theatre. They are of world-wide 
 celebrity, beginning with old Roger, born in this town in 1721, 
 and dying in 1802, — the father of twelve children, among whom 
 are Sarah (Mrs. Siddons), and John Philip, the eldest son, and 
 Charles, the youngest, born, respectively in 1757 and 1775, an< ^ 
 dying in 1823 and 1854. We thought also of David Garrick 
 of histrionic renown, born here in 1 716, the personal friend of 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson of dictionary notoriety. 
 
 We walk to the River Wye, on which the town is situated, and 
 which is crossed by an ancient, six-arched bridge. The cathe- 
 dral, as at Worcester, is to the left, and on land rather elevated 
 from the river. Hereford strongly resembles that place, though 
 without the river promenade, and with less refinement. 
 
 The cathedral, of course, must have attention. Founded in 
 1072, it was building during the next two hundred years. Mostly 
 in the Norman style, it is 325 feet long, no feet through the 
 transepts, and has a grand old central tower, 160 feet high, 
 ending with a battlement and comer turrets. The color of its 
 stone is light drab, much resembling that at Worcester. Every 
 part is in good repair, and the interior has a very imposing look. 
 We were by no means prepared for the bold finish and fine
 
 '.'4 ENGLAND. 
 
 windows for the chapels and cloisters, and, above all, for the well 
 kept lawn and trees of the bishop's Palace, and other ecclesiasti- 
 cal houses. The Lady Chapel is one of the finest in England, and 
 the cathedral library has very valuable manuscripts, among them 
 one of Wycliffe's Bibles, very rare. The monuments date back 
 to the eleventh century. In what profusion are the antique 
 slabs, with their great brass crosses. How the very atmosphere 
 of the place is fragrant with the memory of the sainted dead ! 
 In \isiting these cathedrals, in looking on the ruins of ancient 
 abbey or monastery, — so complete in themselves, and exhibit- 
 ing such evidence of former grandeur, — one is inclined to feel 
 that each is the cathedral of all England, — the Mecca of 
 all the Church; for what is lacking? Not capacity or costli- 
 ness ; not lack of graves of kings, earls, barons, or lords, for 
 here beneath our feet repose the dust of enough such for an 
 entire kingdom. Webster well said of another place : " I do love 
 these ancient ruins. We never tread upon them but we set our 
 foot upon some revered history." 
 
 The part the town has taken in the wars gives her renown. 
 How often the Welsh came here and made fearful devastation ! 
 Could the sleepers, now at rest forever, speak again, they would 
 tell of the invasions of the Saxon era, and the strange Baronial 
 wars ; of the sanguinary conflicts of the Plantagenets, and of the 
 battles of the seventeenth century ; of the long siege, when a 
 brave defence of the place was made by the people, their town 
 being one of the very last to submit to the Parliament. All is 
 peaceful now, and we, on this pleasant day, were dreamily 
 wandering along the lines dividing a great past from a greater 
 present, and both from a yet more remarkable future. Without 
 ability to comprehend all this, we were trying to get a little 
 entertainment, if we dared not hope for something greater. A 
 wide door is opened when one in meditative mood goes into 
 a town like this, knows of the great past, sees the present, and 
 then, in spite of himself, projects his thoughts into the future, — 
 the near and the distant blending into one. 
 
 The sweet chimes on the bells proclaim the end of an hour ; 
 then the short pause, — how still ! and now how clearly marked 
 is the new hour. The great diapason bell of the tower sol- 
 emnly pronounces its four strokes, and we wend our way to the 
 station for Gloucester.
 
 GLOUCESTER. 95 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 GLOUCESTER BRISTOL — BATH — SALISBURY — SARUM — 
 
 AMESBURY — STONEHENGE — WILTON. 
 
 AT 6 p. m., after a scant two hours' ride, we take rooms 
 at the Gloucester House, and are out on a walk 
 in another beautiful town, the River Severn running 
 through it, — a town more like Worcester than like Hereford, 
 though in population (18,330) strikingly like the latter. The city 
 is of British origin, but is very ancient. It was once a Roman 
 station by the name of Colonia Glevum, and under the Emperor 
 Claudius received the name of Claudia Castra. The Saxons, 
 after they had taken it, gave it the name of Glean-ceaster ; 
 hence our modern word Gloucester. It had its part in battles, 
 and in the seventeenth century was strongly fortified and took 
 part with the Royalists. The place was of so much importance 
 that Henry VIII. made it a bishop's seat, and so its great abbey 
 church became a cathedral. The edifice is in fine repair, and 
 is noted for its elegant cloisters, — the finest of any cathedral in 
 the world. They are of very liberal dimensions, and adorned 
 with fanlike tracery of extraordinary finish ; and the openings 
 into the great courtyard are filled with glass. The cathedral 
 itself is one of rare beauty. It is 423 feet long, and 147 feet 
 wide at the transepts ; and the great central tower is 1 76 feet high 
 to the base of the corner pinnacles, which tower up 49 feet 
 higher. The cloisters are 148 feet long on each of their four 
 sides. We shall not attempt a closer description of this than 
 of other cathedrals, though every part is a study. 
 
 It has but a small number of noted monuments, but among 
 them are some of unusual interest. One, always attracting at- 
 tention, is of Robert, Duke of Normandy. It is a recumbent 
 effigy of bog-oak, covered with wire network. Being a Crusa- 
 der, the legs are crossed, as is the customary represention. 
 Robert was imprisoned by his brother Henry, his eyes were put 
 out, and for twenty-eight years he continued in this miserable 
 condition till death came to his relief. Another monument is
 
 96 ENGLAND. 
 
 to the memory of Edward II., who was murdered Sept. 21, 
 1327. Another commemorates Bishop Warburton, who was 
 made bishop of the diocese in 1759, and died here in 1779. 
 Near the entrance is a monument to Dr. Edward Jenner, 
 the discoverer of vaccination, or inoculation, as a preventive 
 of smallpox. He died at Berkley, in the county of Gloucester- 
 shire, and was buried in this cathedral in 1S23, at the age of 
 seventy-five. 
 
 In this city, in 1735, was born Robert Raikes, who in 1781 
 hired rooms for Sunday-schools, and employed women at a shil- 
 ling a day to teach poor children, whom he found in the streets, 
 the rudiments of common education. The school was held 
 from 10 a.m. to 12 M. An hour's recess was followed by a 
 lesson in reading, and then they went to church. After service 
 the catechism was repeated till 5 p. m., " when they were charged 
 to go home at once, and quietly." This was the origin of our 
 present system of Sunday-schools, that of Mr. Raikes being the 
 first of which we have any account. Here also, on the 16th of 
 December, 1714, was born the celebrated preacher, George 
 Whitefield, who died at Newburyport, Mass., Sept. 30, 1770, 
 and whose remains are entombed under the pulpit of the Old 
 South (Presbyterian) Church of that place. One mural tablet 
 was of especial interest to us, — a white marble slab, high up on 
 one of the transept walls, thought to be in memory of a relative 
 of the founder of the chimes on Christ Church at the North End 
 of Boston. It reads as follows : — 
 
 Abraham Rudhall Bf.ll founder 
 Fam'd for his great Skill 
 belov'd and esteem'd for his signal 
 good nature and integrity 
 Died Jan'y 25TH 1785-6 aged 78. 
 
 One of the bells at our Christ Church bears this inscription : 
 "Abel Rudhall of Gloucester cast us all, Anno. 1744." As 
 Abraham would have been about forty-two years old at the time, 
 perhaps he was the son of this Abel. 
 
 The organ in the cathedral is one of great power and bril- 
 liancy of tone-. It was built by the celebrated Renatus Harris 
 of London, who built many of the large organs of England. 
 
 Reluctantly we left these beautiful grounds, and entertaining a 
 regret unusually deep. The walks are kept scrupulously clean, 
 and the flowers in the vicinity of the student's precincts were 
 charming. As we sauntered about we could not but think of
 
 BRISTOL. 97 
 
 the great who have here held court. Beneath the shadow of 
 these very walls walked Edward the Confessor, and many a 
 Norman lord. In the old abbey Henry III. was crowned three 
 hundred years ago ; and who can walk and meditate here and 
 not think of Richard III., Duke of Gloucester? We cannot 
 refrain from quoting the quaint description given of him by Sir 
 Thomas More : — 
 
 Richarde, the thirde sonne of Richard, Duke of Yorke, was in 
 witte and corage equal with his two brothers, in bodye and prow- 
 esse far under them both, little of stature, ill fetured of limmes, 
 croke backed, his left shoulder much higher than his right, hard 
 favored of visage, and such as in stater called warlye, in other 
 menne otherwise, he was malicious, wrathful, envious and from his 
 birth ever frowarde. It is for truth reported that he came into the 
 world with the feet forwarde, and also ontothed, as if nature changed 
 her course in hys beginnynge, which in the course of his lyfe manny 
 thinges unnaturallye committed. 
 
 Just outside the cathedral grounds, in a little park, stands a 
 monument to the memory of John Hooper, who, in the reign of 
 Queen Mary, was one of the first to suffer martyrdom, and was 
 on this spot burned at the stake Feb. 9, 1555. Over three hun- 
 dred years are gone since the smoke of the martyr arose from 
 this spot. How- changed the scene ! Over the vast domain, none 
 now for conscience sake have power to destroy. 
 
 As reluctantly as can be imagined, we turned away. Very 
 dear to us already had become old Gloucester. With an inde- 
 scribable feeling we left the hallowed spot, and at n a. m., on 
 Wednesday, May 8, took cars for Bristol. Our people do not 
 think enough of the Mother Country. They hurry breathlessly 
 and thoughtlessly, with but confused perceptions, to yet more 
 foreign lands ; they do not rest by the way in these fine old 
 towns, drink in the inspiration which pervades their very atmo- 
 sphere, and so make themselves ever after able better to interpret 
 history. Another has well expressed it : " To him who is of a 
 mind rightly framed, the world is a thousand times more popu- 
 lous than to the men to whom everything that is not flesh and 
 blood is nothing." 
 
 BRISTOL. 
 
 Arrived at 2 o'clock p. M., after a ride of three hours from 
 Gloucester. First impressions of the place were much like 
 those one experiences at our American Pittsburg, for smoke 
 prevailed, and the dingy appearance of the buildings confirmed 
 
 7
 
 98 ENGLAND. 
 
 the belief, that this condition of the atmosphere was not excep- 
 tional. The city is a seaport, situated on both sides of the 
 rivers Avon and Frone, at their confluence, and eight miles 
 from their entrance into the Severn, which is the head of 
 Bristol Channel. The population is 182,524, and the city pre- 
 sents a bustling, hurried appearance. It is provided with docks 
 built in the time of George III., at a cost of $30,000,000, and 
 in commercial influence was long the second city in the king- 
 dom. There are five substantial bridges connecting the several 
 portions of the city. Tides rise very high, — those denominated 
 spring tides forty-eight feet, and the neap ones twenty-three feet, 
 compelling the use of a floating landing. 
 
 Our luggage left at the station, in anticipation of but a short 
 stay, we walked out in quest of the cathedral, and soon, as we 
 fancied, saw it in the distance. We entered, admiring much 
 about it, yet disappointed in its general appearance, for it 
 looked old but not cathedralish. It did n't seem to have the 
 genuine antique atmosphere. There were old monuments, but 
 not old enough. The color was dark-reddish brown, very 
 sombre, and in places the building was decayed. 
 
 At the risk of showing our ignorance we asked the female 
 verger — for it was a woman this time — if this was the cathe- 
 dral. Lo, our good judgment had prevailed, and we were 
 informed that it was St. Mary Radcliff Church. We were 
 glad of the mistake, for here the celebrated Joseph Butler — 
 author of the renowned " Analogy," who was made Bishop of 
 Bristol in 1738, and died at Bath, June 16, 1752 — was buried. 
 Before us was a monument to his memory, the inscription 
 written by the poet Southey. There were other monuments of 
 considerable antiquity, which in number and interest greatly 
 excelled those of the real cathedral. Of most interest to the 
 visitor is the fact that in one part of this structure the wonderful 
 young Thomas Chatterton — who died in this city August 24, 
 1770, at the age of eighteen — wrote his astonishing literary 
 forgeries. 
 
 We were ushered up a flight of narrow stone stairs, from one 
 of the transepts, into a room where yet remains a dusty chest, 
 formerly belonging to a wealthy merchant in the reign of 
 Kdward IV. It was in this that Chatterton said he found his 
 manuscripts, — declaring that, after being sealed up for centuries, 
 these documents, among others, were there in 1727 when the 
 chest was opened. It was in this room, with its unglazed 
 openings, with the rooks as his companions, his only light that of
 
 BRISTOL. 99 
 
 the moon, — for he claimed that by her illumination he could 
 write best, — were penned these remarkable impositions. His- 
 tory says that during the entire Sundays he would wander in the 
 fields of Bristol, and lay for hours on the grass, gazing, rapt in 
 meditation, on the tower of this old church. 
 
 We can hardly forbear stating briefly the nature of his re- 
 markable deception. Let it be remembered that Chatterton 
 died at the age of eighteen. His father, who was one of the 
 schoolmasters of Bristol, died three months before his birth. 
 At the age of five he was sent to school ; so obtuse was his 
 intellect, that in a year and a half "he was dismissed as an 
 incorrigible dunce." His mother finally taught him to read, 
 and to the astonishment of all he became at once an intellect- 
 ual prodigy. At the age of eight he was again sent to school, 
 and remained till his fifteenth year. He took little interest in 
 his associates, but gave his attention to miscellaneous read- 
 ing. In 1767, the year he left school, he was apprenticed to a 
 Bristol attorney. Very studious, but remarkably eccentric, he 
 kept his own counsel, employing his leisure time in the study of 
 theology, history, and especially the phraseology of Old Eng- 
 lish. The next season, when in his seventeenth year, he per- 
 formed the work which immortalizes his name. The old chest 
 was opened by the proper authorities a half-century before. 
 The parchments were of no especial value, and they remained 
 undisturbed, till Chatterton's father used some of them as 
 covers for schoolbooks. Some of them his son obtained ; 
 their curious chirography and phraseology excited his attention, 
 and he conceived the idea of writing something of the kind 
 himself. He asserted that some were written by Canynge, the 
 original owner of the cofre, or trunk, and others by Thomas 
 Rowley, the ecclesiastic and poet. He carefully copied the 
 style of writing, followed the phraseology, and, by a process 
 known only to himself, succeeded in giving a stained and time- 
 worn look to his parchments, deceptive to all who examined 
 them. 
 
 To Burgam, the celebrated pewterer, ambitious of obtaining 
 the heraldic honors of his family, he gave a full pedigree, tracing 
 his descent directly from the noble family of De Bergham. 
 The historian of Bristol was aided in his ecclesiastical researches, 
 and put in possession of a full account of the churches as they 
 were three hundred years before, according to Thomas Rowley. 
 A theological student was presented with part of a sermon by 
 Rowley. One of the wealthy citizens of Bristol received from
 
 100 ENGLAND. 
 
 him a poem, entitled " Romaunt of the Cnyghte," said to have 
 been written by the recipient's ancestor four hundred years 
 before. To the Town and Country Magazine he made contri- 
 butions, and Horace Walpole gratefully received anecdotes of 
 eminent travellers and painters. So he continued cultivating, 
 in the singular atmosphere of his temperament, this strange en- 
 thusiasm for the antique, and felt most comfortable while deceiv- 
 ing the public ; but at length more critical eyes were turned 
 toward him. Walpole, entertaining suspicions, submitted the 
 parchments to Gray, who unhesitatingly pronounced them 
 forgeries. They were returned to young Chatterton, who, 
 indignant, avenged himself by a bitter attack on his antago- 
 nist. He led next a singular life of semi-seclusion and misery, 
 writing articles for the reviews, sermons for clergymen, and 
 songs for beer-gardens ; all the time maintaining a gay exterior, 
 though very poor, for he had an unconquerable vanity. Con- 
 fiding in no one, he declined a dinner offered him by his land- 
 lady, even when he had been three days without food. Finally 
 he expended his last pennies for arsenic, and was found dead in 
 his room, August, 1770. He was buried in the pauper burial- 
 ground in Shoe Lane, Bristol, and afterwards some of the citi- 
 zens erected a monument to his memory. 
 
 Here, in 1495, and probably for some years before, lived 
 John Cabot, the discoverer of the North American Continent, 
 and while living here, March 5, 1496, he and his three sons 
 •obtained a patent from Henry VII., authorizing them, and their 
 heirs and assigns, to go on voyages of discovery ; and so we 
 have it that a Bristol ship early touched our shores. Newfound- 
 land was colonized by people from this place in 16 10, under 
 the supervision of a merchant by the name of Guy, whose 
 colonists — while not successful in making a permanent settle- 
 ment of the island, being superseded in 162 1 or 1623 by 
 others — were the first among foreigners to make this place 
 their fixed residence. 
 
 Bristol was one of the first places in Great Britian, whence 
 regular steam communication was established with the United 
 States. April 4, 1838, the steamship Sirius, of 700 tons bur- 
 then, and with engines of 250 horse-power, sailed from Cork 
 for New York. Four days later, April 8, the Great Western, of 
 1,340 tons, having engines of 450 horse-power, sailed from Bris- 
 tol. Both arrived in New York on the 23d, the former making 
 the passage in eighteen, and the latter, in fourteen days, arriving 
 respectively on the morning and noon of the day named.
 
 BRISTOL. 101 
 
 This city is the seat of manufacture of the well-known Bristol 
 Brick, so long used for domestic purposes throughout America. 
 An operative in one of the works visited the United States in 
 1820, and discovered similar sand in South Hampton, N. H., 
 since which period a brick of equal value has been made in our 
 own country. 
 
 The cathedral itself was next visited. It is on the other side 
 of the River Avon, and is not a large structure, but is in good 
 repair within and without. It is built of red sandstone, and 
 has no grounds about it, but is situated in the midst of a popu- 
 lous neighborhood. It was founded in the time .of King 
 Stephen, who was born a. d. iioo, and died in n 54. It is 
 175 feet long, 128 feet wide, and has a large, solid, clumsy 
 tower, 140 feet high. Here, as usual, we were entertained 
 by the three-o'clock service. As an inducement to stay, we 
 were informed by the verger that a new anthem was to be 
 performed. We remained in chairs near the door, and were 
 soon greeted with the usual imposing procession, — the verger 
 with his elevated mace, followed by the robed choir of twelve 
 men and boys, the two canons, and the bishop. With much 
 order and becoming dignity they took their places before an 
 audience of twelve persons. The service was intoned, making 
 an unintelligent jumble of echoes and indistinct sounds, to 
 us annoying in the extreme. We venture to say : " We think 
 it don't pay." At the risk of being dealt with as were some 
 of old for making a similar remark, we are inclined to ask, 
 " Why was this waste of ointment made?" There are some 
 monuments of interest in the cathedral, but none of great 
 renown. 
 
 As we walked through the long and many streets, we were 
 impressed with the city's extent. The land rises abruptly from 
 the rivers, making many of the streets quite hard to climb. 
 Very observable was the great number of houses in which the 
 first stories were occupied as shops, the families of their keepers 
 residing in the rooms above. A good idea, and one not prac- 
 tised enough. There were several Tremont and Park streets. 
 Some of the buildings are modern in style, though for the most 
 part they have an old and substantial appearance. Many of 
 the oldest were originally so well built as to need no change, 
 save for trading purposes. 
 
 The immediate suburbs are elevated. There are hills, amphi- 
 theatre like, on all sides ; and on those adjoining the city proper 
 are the fine grounds and mansions of the merchants and wealth-
 
 L02 ENGLAND. 
 
 ier families. It is a place of manufactures and much commerce, 
 and the central part, about the rivers, has the appearance of an 
 American city. 
 
 There are many old institutions, and they have venerable 
 buildings. We can only name a few. One of these is St. 
 Stephen's Church, built in 1470, twenty years before the dis- 
 covery of America. Others are the Old Guild Hall, built in 
 the time of Richard II., who died a. d. 1400 ; the Corn Ex- 
 change, of modern Corinthian architecture, costing $250,000; 
 the Royal Infirmary, which annually treats seven thousand five 
 hundred patients. The city supports six hundred schools, 
 educating twenty-five thousand pupils. Almshouses and hospi- 
 tals, charity institutions and infirmaries, abound. After a some- 
 what hurried examination of the place, we took train at 5.30 
 p. m. for 
 
 BATH, 
 
 where, after an hour's ride, we arrived at 6.30 p. m. This is 
 situated on the River Avon, and has a population of 52,542. It 
 is one of the most ancient cities of Great Britain, was founded 
 before the Roman invasion, and was an important station on 
 the Roman road, leading from London to Wales. The remains 
 of a Corinthian temple have been found ; also many ancient 
 Roman coins, vases, and altars. The city it chiefly built on 
 level ground, or on a gentle slope ; but it has along its rear side 
 very elevated land, arranged in terraces and lawns, presenting, 
 with its costly residences, an imposing background, giving to 
 the place an air of consequence and picturesqueness. The city 
 is principally built of brown stone, not at all dingy or sombre in 
 appearance. A short ramble satisfied us that this was one of 
 the aristocratic places of England. Substantial and clean was 
 everything we beheld. Nothing anywhere was new ; but the 
 old was of the very best. 
 
 It is a fashionable place of resort for invalids, and we saw 
 in the great thoroughfares carriages drawn by men and occupied 
 by invalids of all ages. We said then and say now : "Let all 
 who go to London go also to Bath." It is England's Queen 
 City, and one of which she may well feel proud. 
 
 The cathedral is a perpendicular Gothic structure, very old, 
 but in most perfect repair. It is 210 feet long, and has a tower 
 1 70 feet high, and is made of the reddish-drab sandstone of 
 which the city is principally built. The stone ceiling of the 
 church is of open fan-work, the finest of the kind in England.
 
 BATH. 103 
 
 The whiteness of the whole interior is very striking, and accords 
 with the neat exterior. There are no grounds about it, or even 
 a fence ; the streets are paved with large flagstones, reaching 
 close to the building itself. The church and the world are in 
 intimate proximity. 
 
 Here again the cathedral chimes saluted us every fifteen min- 
 utes, all day and all night. To the thoughtful their few notes 
 speak with living lips. Sometimes they have two notes, and it 
 requires but slight imagination to interpret them as saying 
 " Quarter hour ; " or three notes, and then they say " Quarter 
 hour gone ; " or four, and then we have it " Quarter hour more 
 gone." The intervals are but short when the knell of departing 
 time is not thus sounded. The poet Young says, — 
 
 We take no note of time, 
 But from its loss. To give it then a tongue 
 Is wise in man. 
 
 The advice is good, and we gave it a tongue ; but it 
 makes a deal of difference what the tongue says. If it waken 
 regrets at the loss of time, when an eternity remains, then it 
 had better have no tongue. These divisions of time are made 
 by men, and are but incidentally a part of the Creator's plan. 
 These sweet sounds are fresh music-flowers, strewn over the 
 graves wherein are buried the new minutes of the quarter-hour 
 just departed. 
 
 The city takes its name from its famous hot baths, and 
 was frequented by the Romans for the purpose of using its 
 waters, known to them by the name Aqua So/is, (sun-water) . 
 Baths were erected here in the time of Claudius, who died a. d. 
 54. These waters are saline and chalybeate, but they also con- 
 tain sulphur and iron. The principal ones are called King's, 
 Queen's, and the Cross baths, and the waters are constantly 
 boiling at a temperature of from 109 to 117 degrees Fahrenheit. 
 There are two others though of less note, called the Abbey and 
 the Hot baths. Rooms for drinking the water and for bathing 
 are constantly patronized, and at times the population of the 
 city includes 14,000 visitors. King's Bath is the most popular. 
 It is a fine old classic structure, fronting on one of the principal 
 streets, in which is what is called the Pump Room, a saloon 85 
 feet long, 48 feet wide, and 34 feet high, elegantly finished and 
 well furnished, where every convenience is provided the invalid 
 i r rest and refreshment, and for drinking the water from a con- 
 stantly flowing fountain. These rooms are attended by matrons
 
 104 ENGLAND. 
 
 who for the small fee of a penny, furnish all the water desired. 
 It is not unpleasant to the taste, though unmistakably impregna- 
 ted with the materials named. It steams up well from the gob- 
 let, and is so warm that one must drink it in separate swallows. 
 The old room was erected in 1760, and has been used by mil- 
 lions of people. 
 
 The baths connected with this building were the only 
 ones we visited, and are a sample of the others. The visitor 
 pays his shilling (24 cents), and receives a ticket which admits 
 him to another part of the edifice, where he finds dressing- 
 rooms and toilet conveniences. He presently passes out into 
 a small room, about four feet wide by eight feet long, closed on 
 three sides ; the fourth partly open, but protected by a screen 
 reaching two thirds up to the top of the opening. The floor is 
 covered with hot water, four feet deep, and stone steps lead into 
 it. The bather can remain inside, or he may enter the great 
 swimming-bath, filled with the same water. That is precisely 
 what we did. Opening the screen, we found the great reservoir 
 to be perhaps seventy-five feet square. Three sides were en- 
 closed by rooms, similar to ours ; the fourth side was a very 
 ancient wall of stone, reaching ten feet or more above the water, 
 in which were antique tablets telling of the foundation of the 
 baths. The space was open to the sky. The water was so 
 warm as at first to disincline one to enter it, but by degrees the 
 sensation became far from unpleasant. Steam was constantly 
 arising. The water was not clear, though clean, but had a dull 
 clay-water, yellowish look, and was quiet, except in a space of 
 ten feet square at the centre, where it constantly boiled up, at 
 times with a rushing noise. We remained there nearly an hour, 
 admiring and wondering. 
 
 In the great pump-room is a statue of the celebrated Richard 
 Nash, familiarly known as Beau Nash, who died at Bath in 
 1 761. He was at one time the leader of fashion. At the en- 
 tertainment given by members of the Middle Temple to William 
 III. he was employed to conduct the festivities. So marked was 
 his success that the king offered to knight him, but conscious 
 of his lack of means to support the honor, he declined it. More 
 than any other person he aided in making Bath a place of fash- 
 ionable resort. By his labors, propriety in dress and civility of 
 manners were enforced in public resorts, till at length he was 
 styled the King of Bath. He was an eccentric, and obtained 
 his living at the gaming-table. He lived in great style, travelled 
 in a coach with six outriders, and dispensed charity in a prodi-
 
 BATH. 105 
 
 gal and reckless manner. Near the close of his life an act of 
 Parliament was passed prohibiting gambling. Having depended 
 entirely upon that, he afterwards lived in comparative indigence, 
 and died in poverty, Feb. 3, 1761. Strange to say, he was un- 
 gainly in person, having coarse and even ugly features, and 
 dressed in a tawdry style. It is remarkable that such a person 
 could induce a system of public refinement, and be honored by 
 this statue. Goldsmith was so interested in his strange career, 
 that he anonymously published a biography of him in 1762, the 
 year after his decease. 
 
 We can readily imagine what the place was prior to the time 
 of Nash. Macaulay, quoting from Wood's " History of Bath," 
 written in 1747, says : — 
 
 A writer who published an account of that city sixty years after 
 the Revolution, has accurately described the changes which had 
 taken place within his own recollections. He assures us that, in 
 his younger days, the gentlemen who visited the springs slept in 
 rooms hardly as good as the garrets which he lived to see occupied 
 by footmen. The floors of the dining-rooms were uncarpeted, and 
 were colored brown with a wash made of soot and small beer, in 
 order to hide the dirt. Not a wainscot was painted. Not a hearth 
 or chimney-piece was of marble. A slab of common freestone, and 
 fire-irons which had cost from three to four shillings, were suffi- 
 cient for any fireplace. The best apartments were hung with 
 coarse woollen stuff, and were furnished with rush-bottomed chairs. 
 
 Samuel Pepys in his remarkably interesting diary, under date 
 June 13, 1668, gives an account of his visit to the baths, and 
 in his own quaint way tells the story as follows : — 
 
 Up at four o'clock, being by appointment called up to the Cross 
 Bath, where we were carried one after another, myself and wife, 
 and Betty Turner, Willett and W. Hewer, and by-and-by, though 
 we designed to have done before company came, much company 
 came ; very fine ladies ; and the manner pretty enough, only me- 
 thinks it cannot be clean to go, so many bodies together in the 
 same water. Good conversation among them that are acquainted 
 here and stay together. Strange to see how hot the water is ; and 
 in some places, though this is the most temperate bath, the springs 
 are so hot as the feet are not able to endure. But strange to see 
 when women and men, here, that live all the seasons in these 
 waters cannot but be parboiled, and look like the creatures of the 
 bath ! Carried away, wrapped in a sheet, and in a chair home ; and 
 there one after another thus carried, (I staving about two hours in 
 the w iter) home to bed, sweating for an hour, and by-and-by comes 
 music to play to me, extraordinary good as ever I heard in London
 
 106 ENGLAND. 
 
 almost, or anywhere. . . . Sunday, June 14: Up and walked up 
 and down the town, and saw a pretty good market-place and many 
 good streets, and fair storehouses, and so to the great church, and 
 there saw Bishop Montague's tomb ; and, when placed, did there 
 see many brave people come, and among others, two men brought 
 in, in litters, and set down in the chancel to hear ; but I did not 
 know one face. Here a good organ ; but a vain pragmatical 
 fellow preached a ridiculous, affected sermon, and made me 
 angry, and some gentlemen that sat next me did sing well. 15th, 
 Monthly. Looked into the baths, and find the King and Queen's 
 full of a mixed sort, of good and bad, and the Cross only almost 
 for the gentry. 
 
 In 1 768, Richard Brinsley Sheridan, the dramatist, removed 
 here, where his father's family had previously settled. At the 
 age of nineteen, in conjunction with his friend Hathead, he 
 began his literary career. In 1772, at the age of twenty-one, 
 he fell in love with Miss Linley, the popular singer of Bath. To 
 save her from the persecutions of the libertine Matthews, he fled 
 with her to France, and they were secretly married at Calais. 
 
 Delighted inexpressibly with this Queen City of the South of 
 England, the antipodes of everything in the South of Ireland, 
 we left it at 2.30 p.m. for 
 
 SALISBURY, 
 
 where, after a ride of four hours, we arrived at 6.30 p. M. 
 We found this city possessing something of the look of old 
 Chester, with narrow streets, projecting stories, queer oriel win- 
 dows, and having 12,903 inhabitants. The clean streets are 
 drained by small brooks running through them. The city was 
 founded at Old Sarum, two miles north of its present location, 
 and removed to this spot in 1 2 1 7. It stands on a level and fertile 
 plain, and is partially enclosed with the remains of the old walls. 
 Little manufacturing is done, nor is trade followed to a great ex- 
 tent, the community being more inclined to agricultural pursuits. 
 Of course the cathedral is the great object of attraction, for 
 it is very large and imposing, and has the highest spire in the 
 kingdom, 404 feet in height. Spires are the exceptions on 
 cathedrals, for of all the twenty-nine, only six have spires 
 above their towers, — Salisbury, Litchfield, Norwich, Chi- 
 chester, Oxford, and low ones on the front of that at Peter- 
 boro. The others have towers without the spire, but from 
 association they are looked upon as finished, as in the case of 
 King's Chapel and the old Brattle Square Church in Boston. At
 
 SALISBURY. 107 
 
 Salisbury we have the perfection of a central tower, and a spire, 
 of charming outlines and graceful proportions. The cathedral 
 was erected between the years 1220 and 1260, and is the only 
 one in Great Britain where a single style of architecture was 
 employed, and the pure Early English prevailed throughout. It 
 was completely restored on the exterior in 1868, and the interior 
 was in process of restoration at the time of our visit. In plan 
 it is a double cross, its extreme length being 442 feet. The 
 stone is of a dark soapstone color, and, being partially covered 
 with very thin lichens, it has a dingy look ; but the clean-cut 
 outlines and smooth surface of the stone, the unusual height of 
 the building, standing at the centre of a large close, furnishes 
 such a good opportunity for viewing it that it presents an 
 imposing appearance. It has many ancient monuments, and a 
 beautiful altar-piece of the Resurrection. The grounds are 
 walled in, and a half square-mile is within the enclosure. The 
 English oaks are very large, the pathways clean and hard, and 
 the lawn elegant. Rooks were to be seen in large numbers. 
 Their circling flight as they wheeled from tree to tree ; the still- 
 ness, unbroken save by their incessant cries ; the prevailing air 
 of repose ; the aristocratic aspect of the Bishop's residence, and 
 those of the other functionaries ; the memories that have clustered 
 around the spot, during the six hundred and sixty years since 
 Bishop Poore founded the cathedral, — all conspired to invest 
 the place with sanctity. Here again came the thought, " This is 
 the cathedral," — as though all England were but the diocese, 
 and this the seat of the entire Church. 
 
 The great bourdon bell in the tower solemnly proclaims the 
 hour of 8 p. m., and we wend our way over the dike, skirting the 
 narrow river, to get a moonlight view of the cathedral. How 
 often we turn to look anew on that symmetrical tower and lofty 
 spire, and how satisfying the gaze. We turn back again and 
 admire the fields spread around us ; we are delighted with the 
 hills, and with the winding river, narrow and clear, whose banks 
 we are treading. The little mill-village ahead lures us on ; 
 but the cathedral is more potent. We turn again and gaze, 
 walk backwards and admire, till the little hamlet a half-mile 
 away is reached. We walk over the trembling footbridge and 
 along the rude milldam, and try to be entertained ; but no, we 
 must turn our footsteps, for in full view is the "all in all." So 
 we w.i Ik back, and think and admire anew, till night comes over 
 us, and we and the cathedral are draped with a common pall. 
 Through the night, as the chimes broke the stillness, and the
 
 108 ENGLAND. 
 
 great bell set its heavy notes as milestones of time, we felt the 
 greatness of our surroundings. 
 
 OLD SARUM. 
 
 On Friday a. m., at nine o'clock, we took team at Salis- 
 bury for this place. Few spots in history are of more interest 
 than this and its neighbor, Stonehenge, — the former two, 
 and the latter a little less than nine miles from Salisbury. 
 Sarum was an important settlement made by the early Britons, 
 which afterwards became a Roman station, and the residence of 
 the West Saxon kings. King Alfred fortified it, and in the 
 eleventh century it was made a bishop's see. In 12 17, how- 
 ever, Bishop Poore removed two miles away, and there estab- 
 lished what is now Salisbury Cathedral, and so the city itself. 
 As a matter of course, Sarum declined. The people followed 
 the bishop, and what was once a place of note became almost 
 extinct. Only one house remains on the grounds, but there are 
 yet traces of the walls, cathedral, and castle. A more complete 
 ruin is not to be found elsewhere in Great Britain, and a 
 strange enchantment hovers about the scene. 
 
 The ride from Salisbury is very pleasant. From the level 
 land on which the new city (though over 660 years old) stands 
 we pass into a very undulating country, a quarter of which is 
 covered with groups of shrubbery and trees. On the greenest 
 of green grass, thousands of sheep and many cows are grazing, 
 but no houses are in sight. A rare beauty exists everywhere, 
 and many evidences of civilization. Salisbury is in our rear. 
 Above all we see the cathedral tower and spire, distinct in 
 outline, like a faithful sentinel standing there and guarding us. 
 
 We alight from our team, hitch the horse by the roadside, 
 and turn to our left into a path parallel with the main road, 
 and running a short distance across the field. We walk on 
 along the edge of a grove, and come upon a solitary house, 
 which is the only human habitation at Old Sarum. It is a 
 stone house of moderate size, two stories high, plastered 
 and whitewashed, with a red tiled roof. It is situated 
 back some fifty feet from our path, is well fenced, and 
 surrounded by shade-trees and shrubbery. It has a very 
 English appearance. A sign over the gate informs the travel- 
 ler that it is a place of transient entertainment. It fronts 
 on the main road, and we are now at the rear entrance. 
 Salisbury itself — or Boston, for a sixpence or a dime —
 
 OLD SARUM. 109 
 
 can at a moment's notice furnish better entertainment than 
 can be provided there. Yonder elevated land, in this same 
 field, is our better restaurant. We walk delightedly over the 
 pathway thither. What thoughts take possession of the mind. 
 Here ancient Britons, conquering Romans, and Saxon kings and 
 queens walked a thousand years ago. The same sky bent over 
 them ; the same soil was beneath their feet. Odors from 
 flowers and the same balmy atmosphere regaled them. The 
 birds sang to them as they sing to us now. 
 
 We approach the venerable enclosure. It is a vast circular 
 enbankment some twenty feet high, with here and there bushes 
 and small trees. The general symmetry suggests the work of 
 human hands, but the abandoned appearance tells of antiquity. 
 Our road leads down over a depression, the old moat, — and 
 then up again, and in through an opening, on both sides of which 
 is ragged masonry of flint, cobble-stones, and white mortar. We 
 now discover that the huge mound is a mortar-wall, overgrown 
 with grass on both sides, this opening having been rudely broken 
 through it. Walls, a thousand and more years old ! What deso- 
 lation ; what strange fascination ! We enter and go up to 
 the top of the embankment. What tongue or pen can ade- 
 quately describe the emotions awakened? The views in all 
 directions are charming. No mountains are visible to inspire 
 awe ; no great metropolis is to be seen ; but " sweet fields of 
 living green " hills innumerable, pleasant groves, feeding sheep, 
 tinkling cow-bells, and air sweet with wild flowers and modest 
 daisies (crushed at every tread beneath the feet) are about us ; 
 but we leave these, to study the grand old ruin. At the centre 
 is a hollowed, though comparatively level space, of five hundred 
 feet in diameter, covered with grass, bushes, and small mounds. 
 The depression is not far from twenty feet deep, the earth and 
 grass sloping up to the walk, about ten feet wide, which encircles 
 it. The outer edge is irregularly hemmed in by bushes. Out- 
 side of this is a mote fifty feet wide, and thirty feet deep. En- 
 circling all is a plateau two hundred feet wide, and another mote, 
 thirty feet wide and twenty feet deep. The motes were once 
 filled with water, but now grass has superseded it. Instead of be- 
 ing a barrier against approaching foes, they have better uses. In 
 the language of Whittier, applied to an old New England burial- 
 ground : — 
 
 There sheep that graze the neighboring plain 
 Like white ghosts come and go ; 
 
 The farm horse drags his fetlock chain, 
 The cow-bell tinkles slow.
 
 110 ENGLAND. 
 
 With variation of tense another verse of the same poem ap- 
 plies to it : — 
 
 It knows the glow of eventide, 
 
 The sunrise and the noon, 
 And sanctified and glorified 
 It sleeps beneath the moon. 
 
 The time has come to leave, and we return to our team. Old 
 Sarum has been seen, and is never to be forgotten. Where are 
 they who here thought and labored a thousand years ago? 
 Gone, without a solitary exception, gone to the silent mansions 
 of the dead. 
 
 AMESBURY. 
 
 Three miles more and we are at Amesbury, the town for which 
 our Massachusetts Amesbury was named. One of us having 
 been born within five miles of the latter, we must of course see 
 its prototype. We found it to be remarkably neat but queer. 
 The streets and avenues are hard and smooth. There are no 
 modern buildings. It is substantial, not thickly settled, rural to 
 a fault, but bears marks of high antiquity. Here are the remains 
 of a celebrated abbey, now used as the parish church. The 
 outline is varied but low. A mile or two away was born, at 
 Milston in 1672, Joseph Addison. One cannot help being 
 reminded that this was a fitting place for the beginning of such 
 a career. In all our wanderings we have seen no town re- 
 sembling this, — odd in the plan of the roads, peculiar in its 
 fixed appearance, nothing suggesting change or repair. Most 
 of the buildings are brick, two stories in height, and a market- 
 place is at the centre. How admirable the surroundings, — 
 Salisbury, Sarum, Stonehenge, Wilton, Bemerton. 
 
 This ride was, all things considered, the most delightful in 
 our journey through England. The scenery was nowhere 
 wild or romantic, but the reverse. The landscape was undula- 
 ting, with great valleys well supplied with groves, the whole 
 forming a panoramic view of unsurpassed elegance. 
 
 STONEHENGE. 
 
 A ride of six miles, and we reach Stonehenge, on the 
 Salisbury Plain. The plain is three or four miles in extent, 
 comparatively level, well grassed, and surrounded with hills. 
 No house could be seen, nor any sign of civilization save 
 the road and the sheep and the cattle so quietly grazing.
 
 STONEHENGE. Ill 
 
 A sign at the left of the roadside directed us into a cart- 
 path over the field. Our driver, an old visitor, informed us 
 that yonder, a distance requiring a slow five minutes' ride, 
 were the famed ruins, in the midst of this vast field, without a 
 tree for company. Alighting there we found an elderly man in 
 attendance to describe the ruins, and see that tourists did no 
 harm. We were informed that the present owner of the do- 
 main, Lord , was pleased to have visitors come, and 
 
 that all were welcome, but strictly prohibited from removing 
 fragments or defacing the stones. Two large ovals are in- 
 side of two circles. On these, or lying about them, are 
 large rough-squared oblong stones, many of them four feet 
 wide, two feet thick, and fifteen feet long. While keeping 
 the same general form, the others vary in size down to 
 half these dimensions. All have a blackened grayish appear- 
 ance, with spots of thin moss on them. Several of them are 
 set like posts in the ground, some perpendicular, others aslant. 
 Some rest on the top of these, reaching from one to another. 
 Some stand alone ; others have fallen, and lie flat. Some of 
 them are broken or lean against others. To complete the scene 
 is a flat stone called the altar, inside of the inner oval. This is a 
 slab about fifteen feet long and four feet wide. The grass grow- 
 ing about them is well trodden down and cropped by the sheep. 
 There were originally one hundred and forty stones, and they 
 varied in weight from six to seventy tons. They are much 
 weather-worn, though many of them retain sharp angles ; and on 
 the top of the pillars are small rude tenons, with correspond- 
 ing mortices in those that once rested upon them. The large 
 ones appear to be about twelve feet high, and they stand four or 
 five feet apart. The outer circle has seventeen stones remain- 
 ing out of the original thirty ; the inner has but eight whole 
 stones, and fragments of twelve others. The inner oval consisted 
 of twenty smaller stones, of which eleven are yet standing. The 
 other oval had ten stones, of which eight remain. 
 
 Scattered over the plain, in sight of these ruins, are about 
 three hundred mounds or tumuli, varying from six feet to forty 
 in diameter. They are conical in form, and well grassed over. 
 Some of these have been opened, and they prove to be places 
 of sepulture ; for in them were charred human bones, fragments 
 of pottery, and British and Roman ornaments and weapons. 
 On making excavations at the altar, remains of oxen, deer, and 
 other animals were found, mingled with burnt wood and pieces 
 of ancient pottery.
 
 112 ENGLAND. 
 
 Evidence tends to show that this was a Druidic temple. 
 Geoffrey of Monmouth assumes that it was built by order of 
 Aurelianus Ambrosius, the last British king, in honor of four 
 hundred and sixty Britons slain by Hengist the Saxon. Poly- 
 dore Vergil declares that it is a monument to Hengist, who 
 died about a. D. 488. The temple theory has more evidence 
 in its favor, and finds the largest number of supporters. 
 
 WILTON. 
 
 After a stay of an hour we ride on, not over the road we 
 came by, but first by a cart-path over the field among the 
 mounds, and afterwards for a half-mile out into another road. 
 We now go back through the nice little town of Wilton, 
 where carpets of that name were first manufactured. The 
 excellent roads are at times very white, because of the chalk- 
 stones which enter into this construction. Halfway from Stone- 
 henge lies Wilton, with a population of less than two thou- 
 sand. The carpet manufacture has declined till but compara- 
 tively few are now made. Most of the houses are of brick, with 
 tiled roofs, having neat flower-gardens in front, and grapevines 
 on the walls. It was once a seat of monastic establishments, 
 but the edifices are torn down with a single exception, — the 
 Hospital of St. John. One place of antiquity yet remains, 
 namely, the Wilton House, the seat of the Earl of Pembroke, 
 which contains a gallery of rare paintings, and stands on the 
 site of the abbey founded by a sister of King Egbert, a. d. 
 800. The place is open to the inspection of the public on 
 certain days, — uncertain ones to us or our driver, — but we 
 must drive around it. On approaching we saw an old but rich 
 Roman gateway, with the usual porter's lodge, and a fine avenue, 
 short but well shaded, as an approach to the square in front. 
 Alighting, we were informed that this was not Admission Day, 
 and the Noble Lord not being at home could not be appealed 
 to ; so we reluctantly departed ; but before going, we had 
 through the gateway a good view of the grounds, and of the 
 mansion itself, bowered in trees. Large, of Italian architecture, 
 built of a light-drab stone, it is said to have been designed by 
 the celebrated architect, Inigo Jones — who died in 1652 — 
 aided, it may be, by Holbein. As we turned away we could but 
 think of a similar experience which took place just two hundred 
 and ten years before, June n, 1668. The eccentric Pepys 
 visited the ruins at Stonehenge, Wilton, and this very spot, and
 
 WILTON. 113 
 
 with an experience like our own. The record in his Diary is as 
 follows : — 
 
 Went to the inne ; and there not being able to hire coach horses, 
 and not willing to use our own, we got saddle-horses, very dear, 
 give the boy that went to look for them sixpence. So the three 
 women behind, W. Hewer, Murford, and our guide, and I, single 
 to Stonehenge, over the plain, and some great hills, even to fright 
 us, come thither, and find them prodigeous as any tales I ever 
 heard of them, and worth going this journey to see. God knows 
 what their use was ! they are hard to tell, but yet we may be told. 
 Gave the shepherd-woman, for leading our horses, fourpence, so 
 back by Wilton, my Lord Pembroke's House, which we could not 
 see, he being just coming to town ; but the situation I do not like, 
 nor the house at present, much, it being in a low rich valley.
 
 11-1 ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 BEMERTON — WINCHESTER READING — NEWBURY. 
 
 IN sight of Salisbury Cathedral, and but two miles away, is 
 Bemerton, an ideal spot, combining those qualities that go 
 to make up one of the best specimens of a rural hamlet of 
 Old England, — clean roads, well built walls, highly cultivated 
 land, beautiful trees, grounds with no evidences of poverty or 
 want. A spot that does not appear to have been at all inter- 
 fered with by any outside trouble, is this little municipality; 
 and how fit a place for " Holy George Herbert " to live and 
 die in. Whoever remembers the hymn beginning, 
 
 Sweet day, so cool, so calm, so bright, 
 The bridal of the earth and sky, 
 
 will wish to see the place of the author's labors and final repose. 
 He died here in 1632. Charles I. gave him the living ; but only 
 for the two years before his death was he rector of the parish. 
 We rode down a quiet lane, and on the left found the miniature 
 church, the smallest we had ever seen. We did n't measure it, 
 but thought it to be about seventeen feet wide, forty feet long, 
 including the chancel, and not more than ten feet high to the 
 eaves. It is built of stone, with a moderately high roof, cov- 
 ered with old reddish tiles. Of Gothic architecture, it had a 
 modest belfrey, a chancel at the east end, with a colored-glass 
 east window, and all the altar appliances of a miniature church. 
 It is built with its side to the lane, only a few feet back, with an 
 entrance through a porch. There are two windows on each 
 side. There are no pews, but the floor is partly occupied with 
 high-backed, flag-bottomed chairs, of which there is room for 
 but three on each side of the aisle. About the building is an 
 old burial-ground, where " the rude forefathers of the hamlet 
 sleep." 
 
 Here the sweet spirit of Herbert was at home ; here from 
 choice he did his work. " Having served his generation, by 
 the will of God he fell on sleep," and beneath the altar his ashes 
 repose. To this spot pilgrimages were made by distinguished
 
 BEMERTON. 115 
 
 men in the days of his rectorship, for he was one of the few not 
 without honor in his own country. Sir Henry Wotton, Lord 
 Bacon, Dr. John Donne, — the poet and Dean of St. Paul's 
 at London, who died the year before Herbert, — these were 
 among the companions who received inspiration from the hum- 
 ble rector of this little church. Honest Isaac Walton could not 
 rest till he had written a biography of him, though it was not 
 published till 1670, more than a third of a century after the 
 good rector's decease. 
 
 How choice a place is the Bemerton parsonage. If holy 
 ground anywhere exists, this spot has indisputable claims to 
 the title. Across the road, not more than thirty feet away, 
 is the house in which Herbert lived, much in its old condi- 
 tion, though somewhat enlarged. Humble and unpretentious, 
 it is still the Bemerton parsonage, and occupied by Rev. Mr. 
 Piggot, the present rector. The house is a story and a half 
 high, standing sidewise to the road, and parallel to the church, 
 which might be its twin. Mr. Piggot, a gentleman of means 
 and taste, was absent ; but with extreme courtesy his man-servant 
 met us at the door, and cheerfully showed us over the house, 
 especially into the study which makes it historic. The efforts he 
 made for our pleasure, the permission granted us to walk at will 
 over the old garden, indicated the present incumbent as one 
 who would do honor to the memory of the sweet singer of that 
 Israel. How charming that Eden ! Walks and lawns are as 
 they were in Herbert's day. There is the medlar tree he planted, 
 now more than two hundred and fifty years old, — decrepit, 
 and supported by props. The trunk, six or eight inches in 
 diameter, is protected by thin metal plates, and cared for like 
 an invalid or a pet child. It yet bears a little fruit, and is 
 a living link between the centuries, bridging over the long chasm 
 from George Herbert to ourselves. The little River Avon, 
 at the rear of the garden and washing its banks, still runs as it 
 did then, and every foot of the acre is sacred. In the immedi- 
 ate rear of the old house, opposite from the river, perhaps two 
 hundred feet away, is a beautiful lawn. Vines climb the house- 
 walls and flowering shrubs complete the picture. Inside the 
 house, works of vertu and evidences of scholarly life abound. 
 All is befitting to the dear memory of Herbert. Exquisite is 
 the beauty of the road, and perfect the shade of the overhanging 
 trees. What a charm seemed to permeate everything ! 
 
 " Take it for all in all, 
 We shall not look upon its like again."
 
 116 ENGLAND. 
 
 Carrying with us better influences than had come from the 
 hills and on the great plain of Sarum and Stonehenge, we bade 
 Bemerton farewell. Passing through Fisherton, a suburban 
 village of Salisbury, — like Bemerton, watered by the Avon, — 
 we reached Salisbury at noon, and at two o'clock, took a train 
 for 
 
 WINCHESTER, 
 
 where we arrived at four. This is historically of remarkable 
 interest, and may be named as one of the few places the tourist 
 cannot afford to miss. It is built mostly of brick, contains 
 16,336 inhabitants, and is pleasantly situated on the River 
 Itchen, which, though not itself navigable, is used as a canal to 
 the sea. While the buildings have a modern look, and espe- 
 cially the shop windows, one cannot walk far before he feels 
 that he is in one of the old places of England. This was an 
 important place in the days of the Britons, and the Romans are 
 supposed to have built its walls. In the year 519 Cerdic, the 
 Saxon chief, captured and made it the seat of government. 
 Under the Danes it became the capital of England, and so 
 remained till after the reign of Henry II., who died in 11 89. 
 It was at the height of its glory in the reign of Henry I., who 
 died in 1135, but in the time of Henry VI. it had materially de- 
 clined. He is believed to have been killed in the Tower at Lon- 
 don, a. d. 1471. 
 
 Winchester was the principal residence of the sovereigns till 
 the accession of George I., a. d. 1714. Henry III. was born 
 here in 1207, and here Henry VIII. sumptuously entertained 
 Charles V. In this place also Isaac Walton — author of the 
 Complete Angler, and of celebrated biographies — was born 
 Dec. 15, 1683. The atmosphere is surcharged with great 
 events. Every foot of ground is classic, and in nearly every 
 street may be found mementoes of something famous. We 
 Americans, born and educated under new conditions, are 
 poorly calculated to measure these ancient historic remains ; yet 
 by kindred and historic associations we are the very people to 
 best get large and just impressions of England's worth. 
 
 At Worcester, Gloucester, Bath, Salisbury, we were richly enter- 
 tained. At the mention of either place, memory is immediately 
 roused to incidents crowding into reconsideration ! Either 
 of these places might take its position as chief ! So now of 
 grand old Winchester. How hard it is to write and not 
 be intensely eulogistic. It has enough antiquity for a whole
 
 WINCHESTER. 117 
 
 country. On one street is a monument commemorative of the 
 plague of 1669. In the distance, a mile or so from the city, may 
 be seen the hospital of St. Cross, founded in the reign of St. 
 Stephen, who was crowned in 1135, and died 1154, nearly eight 
 centuries ago. We come to the venerable St. Lawrence, the 
 mother church of all in the city, into which each new bishop 
 has, for a thousand years, made solemn entry when he took 
 charge of the See. 
 
 At the time of the Reformation, there were ninety churches 
 and chapels, besides monasteries where thousands, under a blind 
 religious policy, were being supported at public expense ; but 
 the Reformation drove these drones from their seclusion, re- 
 duced the churches to but nine, broke up abbeys, and true 
 progress began. 
 
 The city was formerly walled in, and had four gates, but all 
 except the west gate have been removed ; and that now stands 
 sentinel-like in the midst of a commercial population, which all 
 day, and late into the night, hurries through the old arch. Its 
 durability, has apparently demanded few repairs. 
 
 For centuries upon centuries the chamber over it was the 
 deposit for the national standards of weights and measures, as 
 instituted under King Edgar, who died 975. Who has not heard 
 of the Winchester Bushel? Nine hundred years old is the 
 phrase, yet to-day the indentical measures are in existence. 
 We found that they had recently been removed from their long 
 resting-place, to the museum of Guild Hall, a place of great 
 interest. Our first request was to be shown the measures, and 
 there before us was the famous bushel, resting on a low stand. 
 It is of brass, or some similar composition, and dark bronze-like 
 in appearance. We guessed it to be nearly a quarter of an inch 
 thick, and, lifting it, found it to be quite heavy, weighing 
 perhaps thirty pounds. It is in form like a shallow kettle, some 
 sixteen inches in diameter, and eight inches deep, with straight 
 sides, well rounded lower corners, the bottom slightly con- 
 cave ; it rests on three small feet, and has stiff pitcher-like 
 handles on each side. The metallic weights are round, and 
 deep as compared to their diameters. They are various in form 
 and decoration, having been altered under different administra- 
 tions. The measures of length are brass. All these relics are 
 kept in glass cases. 
 
 In this museum are other rare antiques, among them exhumed 
 Roman pottery, ancient proclamations, and rare documents, — 
 among which was one relating to the practice of touching for
 
 118 ENGLAND. 
 
 cure of King's Evil, or scrofula. After reciting cures wrought, 
 and the public press on the occasion, it makes proclamation of 
 rules governing the operation, and naming certain times as set 
 apart for the king's visit and work. 
 
 Next, we visit the banqueting-hall of the ancient castle, in 
 which the first parliaments of England were held. While the 
 building has been remodelled and extended, for judicial uses, 
 this hall remains unchanged. It is elaborately finished in oak, 
 which is now like ebony in appearance. The room is, perhaps, 
 one hundred and twenty feet long, fifty feet wide, and forty feet 
 high. 
 
 At one end, lying flat against the wall, some twenty feet from 
 the floor, is the Round Table of King Arthur, who must have 
 reigned as early as a. d. 525. Much as we dislike to spoil 
 good stories, we ought to say that doubt exists whether this 
 personage ever lived, for the balance is in favor of the the< »ry 
 that the entire story of King Arthur and his knights is only an 
 English legend ; but here is the table, and the only one that 
 claims to be genuine. It appears like a dial, — a round wooden 
 tablet, three inches thick, and eighteen feet in diameter. At the 
 centre is a circle, some two feet in diameter, in which is painted 
 a flower. From this lines radiate to the circumference, making 
 twenty-four divisions. In one of them is a portrait of King 
 Arthur ; the other divisions are alternately white and green. 
 
 Not far from this hall was the palace, built for Charles II., — 
 a tame structure of light-reddish stone, three stories high, and 
 of Italian architecture. The old courtyard is now a gravelled 
 parade-ground, and the palace is used for barracks : — 
 
 " To what base uses we may yet return." 
 
 The music and revelry of the festive board, conspicuous in 
 which perhaps was the fascinating voice of Nell Gwynn, are now 
 supplanted by the notes of the ear-piercing fife and startling 
 bugle, the clatter of arms and the beat of the drum. The 
 courtly king is two hundred years dead. New people walk 
 these grounds, few ever giving thought to the fact that here 
 the highest of the land once dwelt. 
 
 " The cathedral," says the reader, " what of that ? " Of course 
 it had an early visit, the first hour after our arrival, and it lives in 
 most pleasant recollection. We have said understanding^ what 
 has been written of cathedrals before. We have needed all the 
 adjectives of the language, but at times have felt the poverty of 
 words to express our meaning when a cathedral was under con- 
 sideration.
 
 WINCHESTER. 119 
 
 Winchester Cathedral ! How futile will be the attempt to speak 
 worthily of it ; but the reader should have some facts concerning 
 it. The longest of all the twenty-nine cathedrals, it has the finest 
 nave in the kingdom, and a history of more than nine hundred 
 years. It is another of the architectural wonders of Great Britain. 
 The lawn and great trees furnish a befitting environment, and a 
 genuine cathedral atmosphere envelops the venerable ecclesiasti- 
 cal residences near by. The ruins of the monastery and abbey 
 lend their charm, and the grand cathedral stands solemn and 
 majestic in their midst. Founded in 648, in 980 the stones 
 were refashioned into their present forms, which have continued 
 to this day. Centuries have now passed since all was complete ; 
 and save for the repair of a crumbling stone, or a restoration of 
 some portions to original conditions, nothing needs to be clone. 
 It is 5 2 7 feet in length, seven more than Quincy Market in our 
 Boston, and 186 feet wide at the transepts. The low demure- 
 looking tower, only 26 feet taller than the roof, is 130 feet high. 
 In color, it is much like Salisbury Cathedral, — a dark indistinct 
 gray, with thin moss-patches. Parts of the exterior are very rich 
 in decoration, and a feeling akin to admiration is inspired as one 
 gazes at the turreted walls. We enter the nave. This part 
 was built under the administration of William of Wykeham, who 
 was also the architect. He was made bishop of the See in 1366, 
 and died in 1404. It is imposing in its proportions ; and simple, 
 though gracefully elegant, is the decoration of columns, arches, 
 and ceiling. White throughout as new-fallen snow, every mould- 
 ing and carving is of such admirable size as to be clear and dis- 
 tinct in outline. The interior is more than one hundred feet 
 high. The light is solemnly toned down, and everywhere there 
 is an impression of vastness. And how can pen or tongue 
 adequately picture the great reredos, the strange monuments, 
 and the countless mementoes of departed worth ? Again comes 
 the impression, this is the cathedral. 
 
 Here sleeps Isaac Walton. Wood, the historian, says of him : 
 " In his last years he lived mostly in families of eminent clergy- 
 men of England, of whom he was much beloved." Dec. 15, 
 1683, at the age of ninety, he died in Winchester, at the resi- 
 dence of his son-in-law. Who that reads his "Complete Angler, 
 or the Contemplative Man's Recreation," does not admire the 
 sweet temper and good sense, the cheerful disposition and 
 honest purpose of the old saint, enthusiastic in his devotion to 
 his pastime and calling? Nature and his spirit were in remark- 
 able harmony. A large flat stone tells us that here his dust was
 
 120 ENGLAND. 
 
 deposited nearly three centuries ago, but the bookstores of Eng- 
 land and America prove that, like the great Webster, he still 
 lives. 
 
 " So works the man of just renown, 
 On men when centuries have flown ; 
 For what a good man would attain, 
 The narrow bounds of life restrain; 
 And this the balm of Genius gives: 
 Man dies, but after death he lives." 
 
 On a marble pedestal reposes the effigy of Wykeham, once 
 painted in gaudy colors, — perfect yet in every line of his benig- 
 nant countenance, of his stole and his canonical robe. Beneath 
 this monument has rested his revered dust for nearly five hun- 
 dred years. 
 
 Forty-three years after the burial of the great bishop, on the 
 13th of April, 1447, trie solemn stillness was disturbed by a 
 procession to deposit the remains of Henry of Beaufort, the 
 successor of Wykeham in 1404, afterward made cardinal of St. 
 Eusebius, by Martin V. This is he of whom Shakespeare said, 
 " He died and made no sign." How unlike John Knox, of 
 whom Carlyle says : " When he lay a-dying it was asked of him, 
 ' Hast thou hope ? ' He spake nothing, but raised his finger and 
 pointed upward, and so he died." 
 
 Beaufort was a remarkable man. He was president of the 
 court when Joan of Arc was on trial ; by his countenance and 
 aid she was sentenced to death. What influence this dust once 
 had on kings ! Out of Beaufort's vast cathedral revenues, 
 $150,000 was advanced to his nephew, Henry V. To the infant 
 Henry VI. , who was brought up under his immediate care, he 
 advanced $50,000. But we must not play the historian now, 
 and only call attention to the fact that, in the play of Henry 
 VI., Shakespeare represents him as dying in great remorse. As 
 a redeeming quality be it said, that when spirit and body must 
 part companionship, the good angel of charity took possession 
 of him, and his great property went to works of charity. The 
 hospital of St. Cross speaks for him more eloquently than mon- 
 umental stone, or the chantry where he ministered in the great 
 cathedral itself. 
 
 Here too is kingly dust, that of William II., son of the Con- 
 queror, — William Rufus, as they called him, because of his red 
 hair. Shot in the New Forest in the year 1100, by Walter 
 Tyrrel, Lord of Poix, he died instantly, at the age of forty-four, 
 and for 783 years his royal body has been mouldering here.
 
 READING. 121 
 
 But he is only one of many, for over each side range of the 
 choir stalls are oak chests, — containing what ? Records of the 
 church or important papers of State? Jewels of deceased 
 bishops, or their robes? No ; but the mortal remains of Wessex 
 and Saxon kings. Each chest is perhaps three feet long, eigh- 
 teen inches square, and bears on its side the name of its occu- 
 pant. These bones were once buried in the crypt, between the 
 years 1126 and 1171, but were put into these chests by order of 
 Bishop De Blow. Three hundred and eighty-four parishes pay 
 their homage to the Bishop of Winchester. No See in all Eng- 
 land is as rich in its revenues as this. 
 
 As we pass to other visits the thought comes that, like Newton, 
 we have picked up but a few pebbles on a limitless shore. As 
 the immortal Sumner said, " the description is, to the reality, as 
 a farthing candle held up to the sun." At 12 M. we leave for 
 the old city of Newbury, but on our way to take a look at 
 
 READING, 
 
 where we arrive May 10, after a pleasant ride of two hours. 
 We found a modern city, more than usually American in general 
 appearance. There are, however, examples of antiquity, and one 
 learns that he is in no new place, but in one modernized from 
 the old. There are 32,324 inhabitants. It is an important rail- 
 road and canal centre, and is noted for the manufacture of 
 Reading Biscuits, even now to be found in the large stores of 
 America. Before the days of Bond at Wilmington, Kennedy 
 at Cambridgeport, and the Pearsons at Newburyport, these 
 crackers were common in New England, and in fact all over the 
 United States. Reading is a market for the sale of velvets, 
 silks, and agricultural products and implements, and from it, 
 large exportations are made. The seed-gardens and conserva- 
 tories of Sutton & Sons are well known throughout Great Brit- 
 ian. On visiting their conservatories we saw the finest collection 
 of calceolaries and primroses that we have ever seen, or ever 
 expect to see. The air of England is especially adapted to the 
 development of these plants, and the firm has made them a 
 specialty. The finely shaded and wide avenues, and the large 
 number of comfortable dwelling-houses with their gardens, and 
 the general look of the business portions, fully reminded us of 
 Worcester, Mass., though unlike the latter, it is built on level 
 ground. Reading has three ancient parish churches, and a 
 grammar school founded by Henry VIII. ; also the remains of
 
 122 ENGLAND. 
 
 an abbey founded by Henry I., who died 1 135. The ancient 
 grounds now contain a fine public walk. Parliaments were held 
 here as early as the thirteenth and fifteenth centuries, and so 
 the place was notable as being frequently visited by kings and 
 nobles. 
 
 An item of interest is that Archbishop Laud, the notorious 
 persecutor of the Non-conformists, who was executed on Tower 
 Hill, London, Jan. 10, 1645, was Dorn nere Oct. 7, 1573. One 
 of his infamous deeds was to cause Dr. Leighton, a Presbyterian 
 pastor of Scotland (the author, in 1628, of a book entitled 
 " Sion's Plea against the Prelacy " ), to be condemned to pay a 
 fine of $50,000 ; be twice publicly whipped and pilloried in 
 Cheapside, London ; to have his ears cut off, his nostrils split 
 open, and his cheeks branded S. S. (Sower of Sedition) ; and, 
 in addition, to be imprisoned ten years in the Fleet Prison. 
 This was an exceptional example of his cruelty, but even his 
 mild rule was barbaric. He was the son of a wealthy clothier 
 of Reading, and held offices as follows : President of St. John's 
 College at Oxford, 16 11, at the age of thirty- eight ; Dean of 
 Gloucester, 1616 ; Prebend of Westminster, 1620 ; Bishop of St. 
 David's, 1621 ; Bishop of Bath and Wells, 1626 ; Bishop of Lon- 
 don, 1628; Archbishop of Canterbury, 1633. A reaction in 
 public sentiment took place. The cruelties of the church, insti- 
 gated by him, had an effect similar to that of the Fugitive Slave 
 Law in the United States. The poison carried with it an anti- 
 dote. Immediately after the Long Parliament, he was impeached 
 for high treason, and presently we find the archbishop of the 
 realm languishing in the Tower. An imprisonment of three 
 years followed before he was brought to wearisome trial, when 
 he defended himself with distinguished ability, but received a 
 sentence that, in the light of patient investigation, is pronounced 
 unjust and illegal. 
 
 One can hardly read the history of these English towns, or 
 walk through their streets, however modern they may appear, 
 and not discover that he is in Old England and not in Young 
 America. We carried away pleasant memories of this place. 
 The modernish brick and stone buildings, with their tiled roofs, 
 many of them new and of a bright-red color ; the Avon Canal, 
 with its slowly moving Bristol boats ; the sluggish rivers Thames 
 and Kennet, affording avenues of transportation like our great 
 railways, — all conspired to make us think of home ; but St. 
 Mary's Church, half a thousand years old, with Norman columns 
 and arches on one side of the nave, and Early English on the
 
 NEWBURY. 123 
 
 other, — with its neat and quaint burial-ground about it, — 
 made us realize anew that we were yet in Old England. 
 
 At 4.30 p. m. we took train for Newbury. There was never a 
 more desirable country to ride over, or a more delightful season 
 at which to see England to best advantage. What our country 
 shows at this season of the year is here also to be seen. 
 
 A general absence of fruit-trees is painfully apparent. A small 
 part of the land only is devoted to cultivated crops. Grass pre- 
 vails. Beef, mutton, and dairy products absorb the attention. 
 No modern buildings of any kind are to be seen. In the cities 
 are red-tiled roofs, while a few are slated ; but thatched roofs 
 abound in the country. The surface of the land is undulating. 
 General comfort prevails ; and the impression is that in his 
 way, the English farmer is working to his own advantage and is 
 satisfied. He has no fences to keep in repair, — only hedges 
 as land divisions. When we saw cattle and horses, and even 
 sheep, restrained by these often apparently thin barriers, we got 
 the impression that the animals were more easily managed than 
 are ours in America. It is possible they inherit these traits of 
 obedience. It may be that the long training of their sires and 
 dams has made their offspring tractable also, for like begets like, 
 the world over. 
 
 NEWBURY. 
 
 This is aside from the main road between Reading and Lon- 
 don, and is reached by a short passage over the Hungerford 
 branch. On arrival we went immediately to the Jack House 
 tavern. The present building is a part of the dwelling-house 
 once owned and occupied by the famous Jack of Newbury, who 
 figured in English history. He was a celebrated clothier, or 
 cloth manufacturer, and born at Winchcomb, in Gloucestershire, 
 about 1470. On a slab, in the floor of the parish church of St. 
 Nicholas, are brass effigies and the following inscription : — 
 
 Off yo charitie pray for the soule of John 
 
 Smalwade, alias Winchcom, 
 
 And Alys his wife. John Dydd the XV day 
 
 of February mcccccxix. 
 
 He espoused the cause of Henry VIII., and at his own 
 expense equipped 200 men and sent them towards Flodden 
 Field. When the company arrived at Stoney Stratford they 
 were met and reviewed by Queen Catharine, who complimented 
 them in the highest terms ; but immediately news came from the
 
 124 ENGLAND. 
 
 Earl of Surrey that the soldiers might be dismissed, for a victory 
 had been gained over the Scots, whose king had been slain in 
 battle. Jack was much disappointed, but his feelings were re- 
 lieved by the promise of a visit from his Majesty, which was 
 made at a later day. We are told that he much enjoyed " show- 
 ing the king his factory, and that the floor of the room wherein 
 the banquet was held was covered with broadcloth instead of 
 rushes." Jack was very generous, and did much for the poor 
 and for public institutions. The tower of the church, and a large 
 part of its nave, were paid for by him. 
 
 In the year 1811 an extraordinary feat was accomplished 
 here. Two sheep were sheared ; the wool was carded, spun, 
 warped, loomed, and woven j the cloth was burred, milled, 
 dyed, dried, sheared, and pressed ; a coat was made by White 
 of Newbury, and worn by Sir J. Throgmorton, in the presence of 
 five thousand spectators, — all within thirteen hours and twenty 
 minutes. The widow of Mr. Coxter, who had charge of the 
 exploit, completed her one hundredth year, January 1, 1875. 
 
 Another important personage here was Rev. Dr. Twiss, rector 
 of St. Nicholas. He was the presiding officer, or prolocutor, of 
 the Assembly of divines at Westminster, when the famous cate- 
 chisms were compiled, though they were not adopted till after 
 his death. The Larger Cathechism was sent to the House of 
 Commons, October 22, 1647, and the Shorter on November 25 
 of the same year ; but for some reason they were not adopted 
 till July, 1648, two hundred and thirty-five years ago. The 
 shorter catechism soon found its way to New England, and 
 was printed in the New England Primer, — a little edu- 
 cational, but somewhat proselyting work, asserting that " In 
 Adam's fall, we sinned all." It became the principal instruc- 
 tion book in New England families and in some of the public 
 schools. In spite of its old and heavy theology, it was the most 
 comprehensive schoolbook then published, and, with all the light 
 and advance of the nineteenth century, has never been excelled. 
 The hot-house system of cramming was not then known ; but 
 this concise handbook, well understood, did a masterly work 
 which we can never expect to see excelled, till the child is 
 treated as a human being, and tasks not exacted (irrespective 
 of intellectual capacities) at which parents and teachers would 
 themselves rebel. 
 
 Speaking of students, — Mr. Benjamin Woodbridge, of our 
 American Newbury, Mass., the first graduate of Havard College, 
 went to Newbury, England, and became rector of St. Nicholas,
 
 NEWBURY. 125 
 
 after the death of the celebrated Dr. Twiss, so that our town 
 has double honors. Mr. Woodbridge remained rector more 
 than twenty years, — a learned and eloquent preacher, — till at 
 last, in consequence of his strongly non-conformist doctrines, 
 imbibed partly in New England, he was driven from his pulpit, 
 and suffered great persecution. After this he was an indepen- 
 dent preacher for twenty years, and died at the age of sixty-two, 
 in the year 1685. In spite of his doctrines he was buried with 
 honor in the church where he so long ministered. Speaking of 
 him in connection with Harvard College, Cotton Mather says : 
 " He was the leader of the whole company and ... a star of 
 the first magnitude in his constellation." And the historian 
 Calamy says : " He was a great man every way, . . . the first 
 graduate of the college, . . . the lasting glory as well as the 
 first fruits of the Academy." 
 
 Rev. John Cotton, one of the earliest pastors of the First 
 Church in Boston, dying in 1652, was, at the time he left Eng- 
 land for America (and had been for twenty years before) the 
 Vicar of St. Botolph's, the great parish church of Boston, Eng- 
 land, — a fact that gave our Boston its name. Woodbridge was 
 the personal friend of Cotton, and wrote the following epitaph 
 on the latter's tombstone ; and this doubtless suggested to Ben- 
 jamin Franklin the celebrated epitaph he prepared for himself. 
 
 A Living Breathing Bible ; Tables where 
 
 Both Covenants, at Large, engraven were ; 
 
 Gospel and Law, in 's Heart, had Each its Column; 
 
 His Head an Index to the Sacred volume ; 
 
 His very name a Title Page; and next, 
 
 His life a Commentary on the Text. 
 
 O What a Monument of Glorious Worth, 
 
 When in a New Edition, he comes forth, 
 
 Without Erratas may we think he 'l be 
 
 In Leaves and Covers of Eternity ! 
 
 The town is situated on the River Kennet, which runs through 
 the centre of the business part, and is crossed by a single-arched 
 stone bridge. There are 6,602 inhabitants. It has but few 
 streets, which are well paved, but quiet lanes abound. There is 
 picturesquencss everywhere, and especially in the vicinity of the 
 old St. Nicholas Church, where the grouping of roads, river, 
 canal, meadows, trees, pe< uliar buildings, produce an effect sel- 
 dom excelled. The Lombardy poplar is conspicuous, as it often 
 is in these landscapes. 
 
 One place of note is Donnington Castle, once the home of
 
 126 ENGLAND. 
 
 the poet Chaucer, to which he retired in 1397. As he died 
 Oct. 25, 1400, this was probably his residence at the time of 
 his decease. The Shaw House, completed in 1 581, an elegant 
 structure in the Elizabethan style of architecture, is still standing, 
 with its ample grounds, now as it was nearly three hundred years 
 ago. It was the headquarters of Cromwell during his campaign 
 in the neighborhood, battles being fought here in 1643 an< ^ 1644. 
 
 A couple of curious incidents are connected with the parish 
 church of St. Nicholas. Some hundreds of years ago a person 
 bequeathed a sum of money, the income to be used for pur- 
 chasing bread for the poor. While we were in the church on 
 Saturday, the baker brought the lot for distribution on Sunday ; 
 and on the morrow, during service, the new bread being piled on 
 a table in the great room, the fragrance of this charity, like sweet 
 incense, permeated the place. The work will continue preach- 
 ing about " the bread of life " and the practical part of Chris- 
 tianity. This custom is not peculiar to this church. We saw it 
 in some of the old churches of London also, the glass case on 
 the vestibule wall being filled on Saturday, to be delivered on 
 the next day to the worthy poor. 
 
 A new rector had been installed over St. Nicholas parish the 
 week before, and the secular paper stated that on the arrival of 
 the incumbent in the city the church bells were rung. On Sat- 
 urday before the Sunday when he preached his first sermon, he 
 (according to old custom) entered the church, locked the door, 
 rang the large bell, and then unlocked the door and let in the 
 vestrymen, delivering the key to them, and they in turn to 
 the sexton. On the following day, Sunday, he formally read and 
 subscribed to the Thirty-nine Articles. Whether he is to inter- 
 pret them as would the Dean of Westminster, or the Archbishop 
 of Canterbury, we are not able to say. 
 
 A few months ago, in making repairs to the chancel, some 
 brass plates, or mural tablets, were found, which are now placed 
 on the walls with others. Two of them read as follows : — 
 
 A MEMORIAL OF MY FATHER, MR. HUGH SHEP- 
 LEIGH, SOMETIMES RECTOR AND PASTOR OF THIS 
 
 Church and Town of Newbury, who was born 
 at Prescott in Lancashire 1526 and bueried 
 heere the thirde of maye i596 aged 70 yeares. 
 
 Here lies the bodie of Francis Trenchard 
 of Normantown in Coventie of Wilts Esquire, 
 who departed this life the sixt of November 
 1635, leaving issue elizabeth his only child.
 
 READING. 127 
 
 Finally, a word concerning the old pulpit. It is of stone, 
 octagonal in form, not very large or high, but of somewhat 
 elaborate design. To protect it from injury in the time of 
 Cromwell, the parish officers caused it to be whitewashed, thus 
 making it appear to be a cheap affair and unworthy of atten- 
 tion. It remained in this condition till recently, when its true 
 nature was accidentally discovered. Originally it was gilded in 
 some parts, and painted in positive colors, as red, green, yellow. 
 The wash has been removed, and it is now proposed to restore 
 it to its former condition. 
 
 One attempts much when he begins to recite a few among the 
 thousands of interesting facts connected with Old England. We 
 have tried to be judicious, and are entitled to more credit for 
 what we omit than for what we describe. Having gone down 
 the western side of England ( with regrets for having passed by 
 Exeter and Wells, at both of which are cathedrals) we continue 
 from the southern part northerly towards London, stopping by 
 the way at Newbury and Reading. We at 10 a. m. on this same 
 Sunday, having attended an early service at St. Nicholas's, take 
 our start for the famed metropolis. Once more we rode over 
 the Hungerford branch, back to 
 
 READING. 
 
 The day was warm. Probably the mercury stood at about 
 75 degrees. After a walk over the town we attended divine 
 service. At 2 p. m. we were back in the station, waiting for the 
 train. Having dined we had some time on our hands, and so 
 we took out our notebook and wrote about what follows. 
 
 The sermon was extempore, though well thought out, and 
 ingenious and unlooked-for in thought and expression. The 
 elements of good preaching were there, but the theologic atmo- 
 sphere was bad. There was too much East and too little West 
 in it. The subject was the spies that went up to investigate the 
 Canaan question. Most of the English preachers delight to talk 
 about Moses, Caleb, and Jeremiah, forgetting, or not seeming to 
 know, of men who have lived three thousand years later. It 's 
 easy to tell about what was, rather than to observe and investi- 
 gate, and know what really is, and is surely to be. The best 
 thing about this sermon was that the preacher discovered an 
 inclination to look with leniency on opposing thinkers in the 
 domain of theology, and to treat them as Christians. He did n't 
 like the new ideas, but advised his hearers to accept the situa-
 
 128 ENGLAND. 
 
 tion and trust that God would in time tire out the investigators, 
 and so things would relapse into their ancient condition. He 
 was oblivious that his Congregationalism was entirely indebted 
 for its existence to the fact that, years ago, some people did the 
 very thing he condemned, investigate theological questions and 
 ascertain whether their " thus saith the Lord " was real or fan- 
 cied, — that is to say, discover whether the interpretations of 
 the Word were according to fact and true philosophy, or only 
 traditional. The beam in his eyes disabled him from taking a 
 mote from the eyes of others. He declared that the Israelites 
 had the pillar of fire and the cloud, and so have we the Bible ; 
 but the propriety of investigating the true meaning of either was 
 not to be tolerated. 
 
 At one o'clock we are just out of church. Have heard an old 
 sermon in Old England, — a good one, however, of the kind. 
 We go on our way rejoicing for many things, but not sorry that 
 the long service is over, though sorry that in the light of the 
 nineteenth-century thought, men of education, watchmen on 
 the walls of Zion, do not better discern the signs of the times. 
 We are, however, inclined to say with Ovid, — 
 
 Our bane and physic the same earth bestows, 
 And near the noisome nettle blooms the rose. 
 
 Our seat taken in the railway carriage, we are on our way to 
 great London. We think over our roundabout way to the place, 
 which most Americans reach the first or second day from Liv- 
 erpool. A can't wait condition takes possession of them, and 
 they hurry on. We landed at Queenstown twenty days ago. 
 How long a time to get to London, — twice as long as a passage 
 across the Atlantic Ocean ! Yet what a vast experience in the 
 three weeks ! What sights we have seen, what thoughts con- 
 ceived ! What seeds of thought have been sown to bear fruit in 
 the future ! Into how many new channels has thought been 
 turned ! We ride in meditation thus over miles of this good 
 country.
 
 LONDON. 129 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 LONDON. 
 
 AT 3.30 p. m. we are in Paddington Station at the West 
 End of London, feeling much at home, for the train- 
 house is like the Lowell and Providence depots at Bos- 
 ton, though larger. Our impressions of London are not as 
 anticipated. There is less crowding of the buildings and nar- 
 rowness of the streets. The houses are neither new nor old. 
 Our older western cities well represent this part of London. 
 Half of Cincinnati and Cleveland, or a quarter-section of Buf- 
 falo, typifies this part of London better than do our eastern 
 cities. A native of those cities would feel at home in the vicin- 
 ity of this railway station, and would hardly imagine, from build- 
 ings, streets, teams, or people, that he was not amid scenes 
 familiar from his youth up. By recommendation of a railway 
 companion we took rooms at a lodging-house near the station. 
 After dinner we began our tour. The map was brought into 
 requisition, and — after passing through a few streets, and being 
 yet more impressed with the American Westernish look of every- 
 thing — we at length, in a half-hour's walk, arrived at Hyde Park. 
 It is " a fine old Common," as Bostonians would call it, con- 
 taining four hundred acres. It has long been used for public 
 purposes, for it became public property in 1535. It was sold 
 by Parliament in 1652, but was recovered by the Crown after 
 the Restoration in 1660. Like our Common, it was for years a 
 pasture ground ; but it was improved, and became a resort for 
 thousands of pleasure-seekers. In 1730-33 a body of water 
 was introduced, arranged in curvilinear outline, and therefore 
 named the Serpentine. Now there are gravelled avenues and 
 groups of trees. While not presenting the uniformity of the 
 trees bounding the principal avenues on Boston Common, it is 
 still an admirable park ; and its vast extent, in the very heart of 
 London, makes it a resort for hundreds of thousands. On this 
 fine Sunday afternoon a great number were enjoying it. What 
 struck us forcibly was the general uniformity in the appearance 
 
 9
 
 L30 ENGLAND. 
 
 of the people ; none were representatives either of a very poor 
 class or of a very rich one. 
 
 Parts of the grounds are cultivated with flowers, like Boston 
 Common and Public Garden combined. Near this is Kensing- 
 ton Garden, and other similar places, making the West End of 
 London remarkably favored in these respects. A long walk over 
 one of the principal avenues of this place, and we were in the 
 neighborhood of Buckingham Palace, the Queen's winter resi- 
 dence. It is a large, oblong building, of brown freestone, four 
 stories high, and hotel-like in appearance. Back some hundred 
 or more feet from the square, made by the junction of two or 
 three great thoroughfares, it has a high but open iron fence 
 enclosing the grounds. There are two principal gateways, and 
 an amplitude of rear grounds and gardens. Many shops are 
 within a minute's walk of the premises. Some portions of the 
 vicinity are very aristocratic, like Grosvenor Square and its radiat- 
 ing streets, in which are palatial residences in close blocks. 
 ( lontiguous to parks, and having the public thoroughfares about 
 it, one hardly feels that this is the famed Buckingham Palace. 
 
 We are aware that we have began to talk about London. We 
 will, however, not promise anything like a formal description, — 
 certainly, no complete one. London is great beyond -descrip- 
 tion. All that will be undertaken is a statement of what we saw, 
 with the addition of any fact that history may suggest as imme- 
 diately interesting. Very clean are the streets. Never were 
 better pavements, especially on the sidewalks. There is no look 
 of the London we had pictured. We had expected too much 
 o( a frivolous Parisian look in London's West End. A few ave- 
 nues were up to our anticipation ; but all, even here, is not up 
 to this high mark. There is nothing ancient in appearance ; and 
 yet nothing looks entirely new. We should judge that every- 
 thing had been finished twenty years before, and left untouched. 
 Some shade-trees, some flower-yards, a garden here and there, 
 are to be seen ; but generally all is solid and rich. A generous 
 number of carriages and people are in the thoroughfares, but no 
 great crowd. Imagine these things, and you have the aristo- 
 ( ratic West End of London. We walked on, and soon in the 
 distance caught a view of the towers of Westminster Abbey. 
 We went through street after street, out of right-angles with 
 each other, but not crooked nor very narrow ; light and airy 
 was the atmosphere, at this season free from smoke or the Lon- 
 don fog. There was a Boston May-day look about everything. 
 It was cool enough to make overcoats useful every day till
 
 LONDON. 131 
 
 the first of June. At 6 p. m. we had reached the abbey, and 
 were a mile or more from our lodgings. The roads, or avenues, 
 in the vicinity of the edifice are very wide, and form squares 
 about its venerable grounds, the focus of a business centre. 
 Nowhere, though, was there an over-crowded condition. At 
 times there were crowds, — much more so than at others ; but 
 never what might be expected in the neighborhood of the Abbey, 
 Parliament Houses, Westminster Bridge, and other noted places 
 that centre here. 
 
 We are really seeing New London. Streets are newly finished, 
 widened, and everything is modern ; and yet few things exist 
 that appear to be very new. The smoke subdues all freshness. 
 
 England is old. Nature recognizes the fact, and sees to it that 
 an ancient dignity is not disturbed. Nineteenth-century life has 
 asserted its existence, but the old, old fog and smoke are great 
 factors in keeping up the look of dignity that too much new 
 brilliant work might lower. Buildings are mostly of sandstone ; 
 some of brick ; no trace of wood anywhere. Elegant stores 
 are from three to six stories in height. They vary in architec- 
 ture as do those of Boston or New York. Think of such a 
 place, and you have the Westminster part of London. But what 
 of the abbey itself? Well, much more than we can tell. Had 
 we not seen grand cathedrals we should probably be more pro- 
 fuse in adjectives in speaking of this edifice. The structure is 
 large and imposing, but does not on the exterior give one an 
 impression of vastness or great antiquity, though it looks any- 
 thing but modern. It is built of Portland stone, as are all the 
 old churches of London, including St. Paul's Cathedral, — a 
 sandstone of considerable hardness and durability, of a light 
 appearance, approaching white. The general effect is that of 
 white marble, slightly tinged with blue, — a milk and water hue. 
 
 Now comes a qualification which applies to all the old build- 
 ings of Portland stone ; and that is, that parts — which are in 
 shadow, or not exposed to the sun — are either blackened or 
 (as is invariably the case with many prominent parts of each 
 structure) jet-black, and of a solid color. Casual examination 
 would suggest soot, or the results of fog and smoke ; but chemi- 
 cal analysis shows it to be a sort of fungi, or deposit of an ani- 
 mal nature, — the shady situation and porosity of the stone, 
 aided by the moist atmosphere, being favorable to its growth. 
 Imagine, then, a large- structure, of (lothic architecture, black- 
 find in entire sections, but mostly white. Picture to your mind 
 a large front end, with two square towers, projecting but little
 
 132 ENGLAND. 
 
 from the principal front, and each ending with four turrets, not 
 of great height, — then a side-wall broken by buttresses and 
 transept. — and you have the exterior of Westminster Abbey. 
 Next, think of a good-sized Gothic church, of the same stone, 
 with a square tower at the front end, and this building set at 
 right angles to the great abbey, — the rear end of the former not 
 far from the rear end of the abbey. Picture further to yourself 
 a surrounding iron fence, and a burial-ground, with a graded, 
 gravelly surface, containing many slabs. Combine these pictures 
 in one, and you have St. Margaret's, Westminster, the rectorship 
 of which is in the hands of the celebrated F. W. Farrar, D. D., 
 who is also canon of the abbey. 
 
 The interior of the abbey is rather dark and sombre. Its 
 windows are of stained glass, most of which is modern. The 
 columns and arches, the groined ceiling, and all the interior 
 finish is of a dark gray limestone, of dirty soapstone color. The 
 moulding is very rich. On the whole it has a narrow look, is 
 very high in effect in the nave, and has elaborate altar and 
 screen work. There are no pews, of course, but enough flag- 
 bottom chairs to cover the floor of the nave. From morning to 
 night visitors are in this venerable place, — hundreds in a day, 
 coming from all parts of the civilized world. This is true of St. 
 Paul's, and of every cathedral. The task would be endless to 
 describe the monuments. The abbey floor is made of monu- 
 mental slabs, and on many of them are the stories of mortals 
 whose dust is beneath. On columns and walls are mural tablets 
 and monumental marbles. Benedict Arnold, true to English 
 interests, but untrue to American ; and John Wesley, faithful to 
 the interests of humanity and God, but uncompromising towards 
 formality, oppression, and sin, — have commemorative tablets, 
 almost near enough to touch each other. It pleased us Ameri- 
 cans to see Arnold's near the floor and Wesley's on the wall, — 
 higher, as his spirit always was, and probably now is. 
 
 Here is the Poet's Corner, where repose not only tablet and 
 stone, but the precious dust itself of Samuel Johnson, David 
 Garrick, Dr. Barrow, and other notables ; and now a bust of our 
 own Longfellow. How subdued the voice and tread of visitor 
 and verger ! What propriety every moment and everywhere ! 
 The threshold crossed, the hurrying world is left behind. The 
 hum of industry, the subdued noise of carriages and commer- 
 cial life steal. in, but the sound, like the listeners, is toned into 
 accord with the place. The dead control the living. The 
 influence of the venerable pile is potent. That " all who live
 
 LONDON. 133 
 
 must die, passing through nature to eternity," is here fully ap- 
 parent. Dean Stanley and Canon Farrar are not more eloquent 
 than Isaac Barrow. Samuel Johnson, with his ponderous pro- 
 cession of words, and Dickens, his very opposite, though dead, 
 yet speak. Milton, through his elevated bust, — though a pa- 
 raded advertisement of the egotist who " caused it to be erected 
 here," — looks down upon a semi-barbaric effigy five hundred 
 years old. Handel, too, is there. They all, a glorious com- 
 pany, — in life divided, but in death associated, — make the 
 place hallowed. 
 
 How well, while thus in meditative mood, is one able to real- 
 ize, and as he nowhere else can, that " in the midst of life we 
 are in death." The impression thus made can never be effaced, 
 for, with the faithful exactness of a photographic process, it is 
 indelibly stamped on the spirit itself. 
 
 While these pages were passing through the press, the dearest 
 and best earthly friend of one of the authors passed on to " the 
 city which hath foundations," that " house of God not made 
 with hands, eternal in the heavens." By a strange and inter- 
 esting coincidence, while this particular chapter was under 
 consideration, there was found in her small pocket-book the 
 appropriate poetic thought of another, which we here append : — 
 
 I do not know what sea shall bathe 
 
 My tired and earth-worn feet, 
 When they lay life's soiled sandals off, 
 
 And enter rest complete ; 
 But I shall call that still sea, Peace ! 
 
 And in its limpid tide 
 Lave all the dust of travel off, 
 
 And find me purified ! 
 
 I do not know what sounds shall greet 
 
 My soul's awakening sense, 
 Nor what new sights await me when 
 
 I take my journey hence. 
 Though folded be my earthly tent, 
 
 My soul hath where to stay, 
 And she shall not be shelterless 
 
 One moment of the way ! 
 
 And I fear no bewilderment, 
 
 No shock of sudden change ; 
 To journey to one's home and friends 
 
 Will surely not seem strange! 
 And peace is on the waiting sea, 
 
 And rest is on its shore ; 
 And furt her on — I dare not dream 
 
 Of all that lies in store.
 
 134 ENGLAND. 
 
 How sweet and divine the influence, — in what sublime 
 accord with our theme and place ! 
 
 To her dear memory, who — with a companion-mother yet 
 in the flesh — of all friends most encouraged our proposed 
 adventure ; who more deeply and sincerely than any other mor- 
 tals were solicitous for our safety and happiness while wandering 
 among strangers and historic shadows in foreign lands ; and who 
 welcomed us with inexpressible gratitude on our return, — to 
 them both, with filial affection, we inscribe this chapter ; and 
 among the world's great we erect shrine and monument to our 
 own revered dead, — greater, to our hearts, than the monarchs 
 or heroes who beneath cathedral pavements sleep. 
 
 We return to the material aspect of the abbey and speak of 
 its history. How full of incident ! How long the catalogue of 
 devotees and prelates and crusaders, of monks and nuns, of he- 
 roes both of the very old time and of the new. 
 
 The abbey was founded near the close of the seventh cen- 
 tury, and was in full operation by the middle of the eighth. The 
 larger portion of the present structure was completed in the 
 thirteenth century. It is a coincidence that the years since its 
 completion, and its length in feet, exclusive of the Henry VII. 
 chapel, are equal, — 511. The extreme breadth at transepts is 
 203 feet ; and the height of the nave, from the pavement to the 
 highest point of the groined arch, is 102 feet. The towers are 
 225 feet to top of the pinnacles. This west front, added by Sir 
 Christopher Wren, though of good general outline, is faulty in 
 architectural detail. English sovereigns, from Edward the Con- 
 fessor to Queen Victoria, have all been crowned here, and the 
 coronation chair, a clumsy, square structure of wood, is shown 
 the visitor. Monuments of Queen Elizabeth and of Mary Stuart 
 — who died respectively March 24, 1603, and December 28, 
 1684 — are in the south aisle. The latter, as well as Mary Tudor, 
 is buried in the Henry VII. chapel, a most elegant example of 
 perpendicular Gothic architecture, at the choir end of the abbey. 
 We left the place after a cursory- examination, in expectation of 
 repetitions of the visit. 
 
 The Houses of Parliament, only a few hundred feet away, are 
 built of a light-brown sandstone, with an elaborate finish in 
 every part. As we observed the disintegration already at work, 
 we could but deplore the fact that such bad counsel obtained, 
 when the structure was erected, as to be incredibly lavish in 
 working up the outside finish to this extraordinary richness, 
 while unwilling to reduce the decoration, so as to expend the
 
 LONDON. 135 
 
 labor on a more durable stone, even at the expense of some 
 extravagance of detail. Attempts at minute description cannot 
 be expected here. The Thames washes the terrace on the rear. 
 The end with the great bell-tower, the most elegant in the world, 
 is but a few feet from the main avenue, and almost at the Lon- 
 don end of Westminster Bridge. The premises are enclosed 
 by a grand, cast-iron fence. These grounds, though limited, are 
 ample ; and about this end, and its principal front, are thor- 
 oughfares of the best parts of the great city. The structure 
 covers eight acres, and contains eleven hundred apartments. 
 There are a hundred staircases, and two miles of corridors. 
 The corner-stone was laid April 27, 1840, and the total cost of 
 the edifice, up to 1874, was $20,000,000. The principal rooms 
 for the House 6f Lords and House of Commons, compared to 
 the size of the building, are much too small. The former is 100 
 feet long, 45 feet only in width and height, was opened for use 
 in 1847, an d is the most gorgeous legislative hall in the world. 
 The latter is 60 feet long, and 55 feet wide and high. While 
 elaborate in finish, it is not, of course, the equal of its com- 
 panion. The windows of both, and in fact through the entire 
 building, are of exquisitely stained glass. The Victoria Tower, 
 at the southwest angle, is 75 feet square, and 340 feet high, — a 
 magnificent work finished in 1 85 7. The central octagonal tower, 
 with a spire above it, is 60 feet diameter and 300 feet high. The 
 Clock Tower, at the end towards Westminster Bridge, at an 
 angle of the building, is 40 feet square, 300 feet high, and has 
 four dials 30 feet diameter. The great bell on which the hours 
 are struck is called Great Stephen. It was cast in 1858, and 
 weighs over eight tons, taking the place of a broken one which 
 was called Big Ben of Westminster. There is a chime of bells 
 on which the quarter and half hours are chimed. As may be 
 imagined, frescoes and statuary abound. There is no part of 
 the exterior of the structure where exuberance of carving is not 
 to be found, — all of course in the same stone of which the 
 building is composed. 
 
 A minute's walk from the front of the Houses of Parliament, 
 and we are at the London end of Westminster Bridge, looking 
 over the turbid waters of England's celebrated river. How 
 much is implied when one speaks of the River Thames ! John 
 Denhan, like all Londoners, was in love with it, and said : — 
 
 Thames, the most loved of all the Ocean's sons 
 By his old sire, to hi> embraces runs, — 
 Hasting to pay his tribute to the sea, 
 Like mortal life to meet eternity.
 
 136 ENGLAND. 
 
 The river is about fifteen hundred feet wide, and runs with 
 quite a current toward the sea. The muddy water rises and 
 falls twelve or more feet with the tide. Standing at our right are 
 the Parliament Houses, with a vast length of nine hundred feet, 
 their grounds adjoining the bridge. We pass from the bridge 
 to the left, and along the river. Bounding it is the Victoria 
 Embankment, built of finely hammered granite, and finished 
 with a moulded parapet. At proper intervals are pedestals, sur- 
 mounted by ornamental and appropriate lamp-posts. At especial 
 points are stone stairways down to the floating rafts and steamer 
 landings. This embankment extends between Westminster and 
 Blackfriars Bridges, and is a mile long. It was finished in 1870, 
 at a cost of $10,000,000. It is one hundred feet wide on the 
 roadway, and follows the curving line of the river. Next the 
 sea-wall is a sidewalk of liberal width, with shade-trees. Out- 
 side of this, and about sixty feet wide, is the macadamized 
 roadway. Beyond, and extending to the fence lines, is another 
 sidewalk ; and bordering this are small public squares fronting 
 important buildings. Prominent among these is Somerset 
 House, with its three thousand windows and one thousand 
 rooms. From Blackfriars Bridge the river is bordered by build- 
 ings, wooden landings, and small docks, — continuing thus for 
 a mile or more, to the Tower of London. 
 
 The high buildings are built of brick, in a common and cheap 
 warehouse style, hardly in keeping with this important part of 
 the city. London Bridge terminates among these ; but it is 
 elevated, so that its entrance is above the waterside buildings, 
 and has a spacious approach, as its importance demands. At 
 Blackfriars Bridge — the end of the Victoria Embankment — 
 the road diverges to the left somewhat, and runs up towards St. 
 Paul's Cathedral, which is on slightly elevated ground, perhaps 
 a half-mile away. It is about two thirds of the way between 
 Blackfriars and London Bridge, and not far from an eighth of a 
 mile from the river. The triangle thus formed is filled with 
 warehouses. The streets are well paved, clean, and full of busi- 
 ness. The avenues are not very wide ; some of them are quite 
 crooked ; and there are many lanes and alleys, or short-cuts 
 across-lots. 
 
 Parts of New York, as, for instance, about Williams and Fulton 
 streets, — or even Boston, in North Street, — well represent the 
 vicinity of London Bridge, Paul's and Wharf avenues. We have 
 now traversed the embankment for two and a half miles, and begin 
 our survey of the opposite side. Beginning at the Lambeth
 
 LONDON. 137 
 
 end of Westminster Bridge, we have another elegant river-wall, 
 — the southern one, or Albert Embankment, — built like the 
 other, and at a cost of $5,500,000. It extends from West- 
 minster Bridge nearly to Vauxhall Bridge to the right, and 
 opposite the Houses of Parliament. The new St. Thomas Hos- 
 pital buildings, four or five in number, are of brick with granite 
 dressings, facing the embankment, and of course the Parliament 
 Houses on the other side of the river. Above this is the Chel- 
 sea Embankment, opened in 1874. It continues on to the old 
 Battersea Bridge, the whole presenting a massive stone wall. 
 Beyond it, back from the river at this end, is a series of pleasure 
 grounds, Lambeth Place, etc. This is the old Episcopal seat of 
 the Church, and the usual residence of the Archbishop of Canter- 
 bury. It is noted as being the place of ecclesiastical councils 
 for many centuries. 
 
 From the bridge down to the left opposite the Victoria 
 Embankment, and for the entire distance opposite that part of 
 the city, are wharves, docks, storehouses, such as may be found 
 along the shore of any commercial place ; but the shipping 
 proper lies farther down the river, below London bridge. There 
 are the docks, built at enormous cost, and extending for miles 
 below the Tower, which is not far from a mile below St. Paul's. 
 On the opposite side is the city of Southwark, containing a 
 population of 200,000. The shore is lined with quays, and has 
 an unfinished appearance. The tide runs very low, and often 
 the mud is exposed to view against the buildings on both sides 
 of the river, especially on the London side in the vicinity of 
 Blackfriars. 
 
 The river is crossed by many fine bridges ; among them are 
 London, Southwark, Blackfriars, Waterloo, Hungerford, West- 
 minster, Vauxhall, and Chelsea, besides two or three large ones 
 for the railroads. London and Waterloo bridges are of stone, 
 and are respectively 928 feet and 1,242 feet long, and 53 
 feet and 42 feet wide. The first has five arches, and the other 
 nine. Built in 1831 and 181 7, they cost $10,000,000 and 
 $5,750,000, respectively. Southwark, Blackfriars, Westminster, 
 and Vauxhall are iron bridges. Hungerford is a suspension 
 bridge, and Chelsea is wooden. Blackfriars and Westminster 
 are elegant structures, somewhat recently built. 
 
 Steamers in great numbers ply between London and West- 
 minster bridges, and to Chelsea and points beyond. So 
 frequent are these in their passages up and down the river, 
 that the passenger makes no especial calculation as regards
 
 138 ENGLAND. 
 
 time, but goes to the nearest floating-station, and need not wait 
 long lor a conveyance. This is a comfortable method of travel, 
 of which hundreds of thousands daily avail themselves. It has 
 been aptly called the Silent Highway, for, in spite of the traffic 
 on the shores, there is a peculiar quiet on the river. 
 
 We can hardly think of a subject we should be more pleased 
 to write about, and there are few by which our readers would be 
 more entertained, than these old bridges in London. Only one of 
 them can have attention, and that shall be London Bridge, more 
 especially the old one. A London Bridge is mentioned in a 
 charter of William the Conqueror, granted to the monks of 
 Westminster Abbey in 1067 ; but the earliest historical account 
 of any is that made by the old chroniclers of its destruction, Nov. 
 16, 1091, "on which day a furious southeast wind threw down 
 six hundred private houses in the city, besides several churches ; 
 and the tide in the river came rushing up with a violence that 
 swept the bridge entirely away." 
 
 Next, in 1097, we learn from a Saxon chronicle, the credit 
 of rebuilding it is given to King Rufus. It was of wood, and 
 destroyed in 1136, by a fire which "laid the city in waste from 
 St. Paul's to Aldgate." The historian Stow speaks of it as having 
 been wholly rebuilt in 1163 by Peter Colechurch, priest and 
 chaplain. 
 
 The first London Bridge of stone was begun in 1 173, or 710 
 years ago, and finished in 1209. Stow says, "the new stone 
 bridge was founded somewhat to the west of the old timber 
 one." The new one had twenty arches. The road was 926 
 feet long and 40 feet wide between the parapets, — surely a 
 magnificent structure to be erected six hundred years before 
 the American Revolution. This great thoroughfare was des- 
 tined to be despoiled of its ample dimensions, for, as soon 
 as 1280, mention is made, on the pay-roll of the ninth year of 
 Edward L, of "innumerable people dwelling upon the bridge." 
 In course of time it was resolved into a complete street, build- 
 ings having been built on each side, partly on the bridge and 
 partly projecting over the river, in solid line, with the exception 
 of three openings on each side, at unequal distances, from which 
 might be obtained views up and down the river. Strange to 
 say, on the east side, over the tenth pier, was a fine Gothic 
 chapel, dedicated to Thomas a Becket. It was thirty feet in 
 front on the bridge, and consisted of a crypt, and a chapel 
 above, and was used for divine services down to the Refor- 
 mation.
 
 LONDON. 139 
 
 Near the Southwark end of the bridge, on the eleventh 
 pier, was a tower, which Stow tells us was begun in 1426. 
 On the top of this tower the heads of persons who had been 
 executed were " stuck up for public gaze." When it was 
 removed in 1577, the exposed heads were taken to the South- 
 wark end of the bridge, and the gate there received the name 
 of Traitor's Gate. 
 
 When William Wallace resisted Edward I., his heart was 
 plucked out, and his head placed aloft on this old tower. This 
 was in 1305. There was displayed, in 1408, the head of the 
 Earl of Northumberland, the father of the gallant Hotspur. 
 There also were placed here, in 1535, the heads of Fisher, Bishop 
 of Rochester, and his friend Sir Thomas More. That of the 
 former was first shown to Queen Anne Boleyn, and the next 
 day " parboiled and placed upon the pole." It is related : — 
 
 In spite of the parboiling, it grew fresher and fresher, so that 
 in his lifetime he never looked so well, for his cheeks being beauti- 
 fied with a comely red, the face looked as though it had beholden 
 the people passing by, and would have spoken to them; wherefore 
 the people coming daily to see the strange sight, the passage, even 
 the bridge, was so stopped with their going and coming, that almost 
 neither cart nor horse could pass ; therefore at the end of fourteen 
 days the executioner was commanded to throw down the head in 
 the night time into the river of Thames, and in place thereof was set 
 the head of the most blessed and constant martyr, Sir Thomas 
 More, his companion in all his troubles. 
 
 The German traveller Hentuner, who was here in 1597, re- 
 cords, that he saw above thirty heads at one time ; and some old 
 prints of the tower show its roof nearly covered by spiked skulls. 
 
 The bridge remained till the year 1832 when the present 
 structure was built. During the long interval it was often en- 
 dangered by fire, — once in 121 2, as Stow relates : — 
 
 A great fire enveloped the church of St. Mary Overy's, which ex- 
 tended to the bridge, and, sweeping into it, struck a vast crowd of 
 people who were collected upon it, who were hemmed in thus be- 
 tween two advancing masses of flame, and thus perished miserably 
 above 3,000 persons, whose bodies were found in part or half 
 burned, beside those that were wholly burned to ashes and could 
 not be found. 
 
 In 1 281 " five of the arches were carried away by ice, and a 
 swell in the river, succeeding a severe snow-storm and great 
 
 frost." Stow says : —
 
 140 ENGLAND. 
 
 In 1437, at noon of January, 14th, the great stone gate, with the 
 tower upon it next to Southwark, fell down, ami two of the farthest 
 arches of the same bridge, yet no men perished in body, which was 
 a great work of I 
 
 We might continue the record of fires and disasters, of mur- 
 ders on the bridge and in the houses, as well as of tumults and 
 other strange proceedings. 
 
 How many remarkable pageants have here taken place. In 
 1381, on the 13th of June, the celebrated Wat Tyler forced his 
 way over the bridge and into the city, in spite of the mayor, 
 Sir William Walworth, and his military and police, and the " raised 
 draw fastened up with a mighty iron chain to prevent the entry." 
 
 On the 29th of August, 1392, King Richard II. passed over 
 it. having come in joyous procession with his consort, Queen 
 Anne, by whose mediation he had just become reconciled with 
 the people of London. The account says : — 
 
 Men, women, and children, in order, presented him with two fair 
 white steeds, trapped in cloth of gold, parted with red and white, 
 hanged full of silver bells, the which present he thankfully received, 
 and afterwards held on his way towards Westminster. 
 
 Over it, Feb. 21, 1432, young King Henry VI. came, and 
 made a magnificent entry after his coronation at Paris. 
 
 But we must forbear. Even a portion of remarkable events, 
 that might be related, would more than fill this book. 
 
 The Thames, as before mentioned, has been aptly termed the 
 Silent Highway. For centuries boating and ferriage have been 
 important here. The watermen, as they were called, formed a 
 numerous and somewhat influential body. In our day the 
 horse-railroad companies are thought to be powerful, and 
 Temple Place, narrow Tremont Street, and wide Scollay 
 Square are said to be under their control. The railroad wars of 
 our day {e. g., between the Union and Charles River railways) 
 only remind us of the London conflicts of eight hundred years 
 ago. Bridgemen and watermen were then in opposition, as 
 representatives of elevated and surface railways are at odds now. 
 Great opposition was made by the watermen to the building 
 of bridges over the Thames. "Othello's occupation," they 
 thought, would be gone, and that was, in their estimation, 
 enough to condemn the project. John Taylor, a waterman, 
 lauded the river as follows : — 
 
 But noble Thames, whilst I can hold a pen 
 I will divulge thy glory unto men; 
 Thou in the morning, when my corn is scant, 
 Before the evening doth supply my want.
 
 LONDON. 141 
 
 Soon came a new trouble, for then, as now, misfortunes did 
 not come singly. Coaches came into use, and coaches and a 
 new bridge at the same time threatened large invasions on the 
 realm of the watermen, and Taylor was not slow to complain of 
 this. In a poem entitled "Thief," published in 1622, he 
 says : — 
 
 When Queen Elizabeth came to the crown 
 A coach in England was then scarcely known. 
 
 He could tolerate coaches for royalty, but their use by com- 
 mon people was more than he could well endure, and so he 
 continues in the following strain : — 
 
 'T is not fit that 
 Fulsome madams, and new scurvey squires, 
 Should jolt the streets at pomp, at their desires, 
 Like great triumphant Tamberlaines each day, 
 Drawn with pampered jades of Belgia, 
 That almost all the streets are choked outright, 
 Where men can hardly pass, from morn till night, 
 While Watermen want work. 
 
 And he tried his hand at prose as follows : — 
 
 This infernal swarm of trade spillars [coaches] have so overrun 
 the land, that we can get no living upon the water ; for I dare truly 
 affirm that every day in any term, especially if the court be at 
 Whitehall, they do rob us of our livings, and carry five hundred 
 and sixty fares daily from us. 
 
 And he grows earnest, and means business, when he again 
 talks as follows : — 
 
 I pray you look into the streets, and the chambers or lodgings 
 in Fleet Street or the Strand, how they are pestered with them 
 [coaches], especially after a mask, or a play at court, where even 
 the very earth quakes and trembles, the casements shatter, tatter, 
 and clatter, and such a confused noise is made, so that a man can 
 neither sleep, speak, hear, write, or eat his dinner or supper quiet 
 of them. 
 
 Alas for poor John Taylor, and the occupation of his asso- 
 ciates, who longed and sighed for the good old times and 
 customs of the fathers, and deplored these new-fangled 
 notions ! 
 
 The winter of 1684-5 was very severe ; and Sir John Evelyn, 
 in his celebrated Diary, records an unusual spectacle on the 
 famous river. His statement is as follows : —
 
 142 ENGLAND. 
 
 Jan. 9th I went crosse the Thames on the ice, now become so 
 thick as to beare not onely streetes and booths, in which they 
 roasted meate, and had divers shops of wares, quite acrosse as in 
 toune, hut coaches, carts, and horses passed over. So I went 
 from Westminster Stayres to Lambeth and dined with the Arch- 
 bishop. . . . f 6th. The Thames was filled with people and tents, 
 selling all sorts of wares as in the city. . . . 24th. The frost con- 
 tinuing, more and more severe, the Thames before London was 
 still planted with booths in formal streetes, all sorts of trades and 
 shops furnished and full of commodities, even to a printing presse. 
 where the people and ladys tooke a fancey to have their names 
 printed and the day and yeare set down when printed on the 
 Thames ; this humour took so universally, that t 'was estimated the 
 printer gained £5 a day, for printing a iine onely, at six pence a 
 name, besides what he got by ballads, &c. Coaches plied from 
 Westminster to the Temple, and from several other stayres to and 
 fro, as in the streets, sleds, sliding with skeets, a bull-baiting, horse 
 and coach races, puppet plays and interludes, cooks, tippling, and 
 other lewed places. So it seemed to be a backanalian triumph, or 
 carnival on the water, whilst it was a severe judgement on the land, 
 the trees not only splitting as if by lightening struck, but men and 
 cattle perishing in divers places, and the very seas lock'd up with 
 ice that no vessels could stir out or come in. . . . Feb. 5th. It 
 began to thaw but froze again. My coach crossed from Lambeth to 
 the Horse ferry at Milbank, Westminster. The booths were 
 almost all taken downe, but there was first a map or Landskip cut 
 in copper, representing all the manner of the camp and the several 
 actions and pastimes thereon, in memory of so signal frost. . . . 
 Jan. 10th. After eight weekes missing the foraine posts, there 
 came abundance of intelligence from abroad. 
 
 We now take our leave of the Thames. Often shall we sail 
 over it during our stay. It is a highway of nations like the 
 ocean itself. Ideal is the Rhine ; matter of fact is the Thames ; 
 but it is greater than the Amazon in the best kind of greatness. 
 
 We have employed much space in describing the West End of 
 London — the Abbey, Parliament Houses, the River. It will be 
 remembered that these were seen within the first few hours after 
 our arrival. At 6 p. M. of the same day, Sunday, we continue 
 our walk from the river embankment, and up to St. Paul's. 
 This edifice stands on slightly elevated ground, and being very 
 large, with its lofty dome, is of course readily seen from any 
 point along the river for some miles away. It is about a mile 
 from Westminster to the cathedral. The land rises but slightly, 
 but the small elevation was a fact worthy of note ; and so in 
 Pannier Alley, a narrow passage some six or eight feet wide, 
 not far from the cathedral, is a stone tablet, which has a
 
 LONDON. 143 
 
 rude carving representing a naked boy sitting on a pannier, 
 and on the lower part or pedestal is the following : — 
 
 When y'v sovght 
 
 THE ClTTY ROVND 
 
 Yet still this is 
 The highest Grovnd 
 
 avgvst the 27 
 
 1688. 
 
 St. Paul's is located at a business centre. In front of its prin- 
 cipal end is a square, out of which runs Fleet Street, from Lud- 
 gate Hill. This is one of the busy thoroughfares of the city. 
 About the cathedral, fenced in with an open iron fence not 
 much unlike that of Boston Common, is the burial-ground, 
 enclosing all of it but the Fleet Street end ; and the space is not 
 more than fifty feet from the fence to the building. The whole is 
 grassed over, and has gravestones scattered promiscuously about. 
 On either side, and across the rear end, is a street, with a roadway 
 and one sidewalk, with stores bordering it. This space is of 
 the same width as the burial part of the grounds, and the entire 
 place has for centuries been known as Paul's Churchyard ; for 
 such it was before the great fire of 1666. For many years it 
 was celebrated for its second-hand bookstores. Newgate Street, 
 Cheapside, and other avenues of trade are at the left and rear, 
 making the situation of the cathedral very much exposed. 
 
 In general the buildings of London are modern, the streets 
 are clean, and there is no look of great antiquity or a very 
 cramped condition. A scene is presented to view very unlike 
 what one imagines when he hears of Old London ; for so 
 much has been said of its antiquities, great age, its fogs 
 and smoke, that most people entertain ideas which are far 
 from the truth. Speaking of this, it may well be said, once 
 for all, that no great thoroughfare of London is more crowded 
 than Broadway, New York ; and none is narrower, unless we 
 except Cheapside, by Bow Church ; and that is no worse than 
 our Washington- Street, between Court and Milk. Just now we 
 can think of no other street more resembling Cheapside, as re- 
 gards width, amount of travel, and general variety and style of 
 its buildings. 
 
 It must be remembered that, while London has a history of 
 two thousand years, yet most of it has been many times rebuilt, 
 and its streets have been widened. Boston has a history only 
 one tenth as long, 240 years, yet we find in it little evidence
 
 144 ENGLAND. 
 
 of great age. London has however notable examples, — Guild 
 Hall, Temple Church, St. Paul's, and fifty churches built after 
 the great fire of 1666 ; but these do not probably look older 
 than they did one or two centuries ago. In fact they do not 
 impress one as being of a remarkable age ; and, not being seen 
 in a group, the city as a whole looks modern. 
 
 The greatest improvements have of course been made in Old 
 London proper, — that part once within the walls, which, com- 
 pared to the present London, is simply as original Boston is 
 when compared to itself as a whole, and including the annexa- 
 tions. London is indeed vast in dimensions, and has a popula- 
 tion of 3,266,987 ; but outside of Old London are the annexed 
 places. This new territory is built principally of brick, and is in 
 comparatively modern style. Land having been cheap, the streets 
 are of good width ; and since the territory has become part of 
 London, it is paved, lighted, and well cared for. So let no one 
 imagine for this, the world's metropolis, a great over-crowded 
 city different from Boston or New York, — avast labyrinth of 
 narrow and crooked streets, in which are evidences of bad condi- 
 tions, the results of life in a dark age, — for nothing of the kind is 
 true. In some portions, e. g. not far from Covent Garden Market, 
 there are streets where very poor people reside, and are crowded, 
 but not in very old and peculiar buildings. In no way are the 
 conditions worse than in sections of New York and Boston. 
 London is a very large and very fine city, modern in general 
 appearance. 
 
 For five months in the year, from May 1 to October 1, the 
 climate is not very different from our own, though it has a 
 slightly lower temperature, and a moister atmosphere. It rains 
 with great ease, unlooked-for showers are imminent, and an 
 umbrella accompanies a man almost as often as his hat. During 
 the remaining portion of the year fog is frequent, and, as the 
 heavy atmosphere prevents smoke from passing off, the difficul- 
 ties are intensified. At any time in the four winter months this 
 is a serious trouble. 
 
 We have wandered from our especial subject to speak of these 
 matters, as we are sure that most people entertain wrong opin- 
 ions concerning them ; but now we go back to the cathedral. 
 
 St. Paul's is built of white stone, in general appearance like 
 white marble. Parts of it are as white as ever, and kept clean by 
 sun and storm ; other parts are, black as soot. This edifice was 
 built to take the place of Old St. Paul's, which was destroyed in 
 the great fire of 1666. The commission for the new building
 
 LONDON. 145 
 
 was given under the great seal, Nov. 12, 1673. The first stone 
 was laid with imposing ceremonies under the administration of 
 Bishop Henry Compton, by the architect Sir Christopher Wren, 
 assisted by his master-mason, Thomas Strong. An interesting 
 fact is related in connection with the beginning of an important 
 part of the structure, and the relation is as follows : — 
 
 Sometime during the early part of its works, when Sir Christo- 
 pher was arranging and setting out the dimensions of the great 
 cupola, an incident occurred which some superstitious observers 
 regarded as a lucky omen. The architect had ordered a work- 
 man to bring to him a flat stone, to use as a station ; which, when 
 brought, was found to be a fragment of a tombstone, containing the 
 only remaining word of an inscription in capital letters : Resur- 
 GAM. (" I shall rise again.") 
 
 It is possible that this incident suggested to the sculptor, 
 Colley Cibber, the emblem — a phoenix in its fiery nest — over 
 the south portico, and inscribed with the same word. A kin- 
 dred thought is, that the rising again of the cathedral and the 
 city from their ashes was the hint to the artist, and that he 
 availed himself of the emblem and word as grandly suggestive. 
 The work was continued so that "April 1, 1685, the walls of 
 the choir, with its aisles, being 170 feet long and 121 feet broad, 
 with the stupendous arched vaults below the pavement, were 
 finished ; as also the new chapter-house and vestries. The two 
 beautiful circular porticoes of the north and south entrances, 
 and the massy piers which support the cupola, a circle of 108 feet 
 diameter within the walls, were brought to the same height." 
 
 In the diary of Sir John Evelyn, under date of Oct. 5, 1694, 
 we have the following : " I went to St. Paul's to see the choir, 
 now finished as to the stonework, and the scaffolds struck both 
 without and within in that part." 
 
 On Dec. 2, 1696, the choir was opened for divine service, 
 the first held on the spot since the great fire of 1666. This 
 was on the day appointed for thanksgiving for the Peace of 
 Ryswick ; and service has been continued without interrup- 
 tion to this day, or a period of nearly two hundred years. On 
 Feb. 1, 1699, tri e morning-prayer chapel was opened for ser- 
 vices with appropriate ceremony; and finally, in 1710, when 
 Sir Christopher had attained the seventy-eighth year of his age, 
 about thirteen years before his death, the highest stone of the 
 cupola was laid by his only son, Mr. Christopher Wren, assisted 
 by the venerable architect, Mr. Strong the master-mason, and
 
 14G ENGLAND. 
 
 the Lodge of Free and Accepted Masons, of which Sir Christo- 
 pher was for many years the active and honored Master. Thus 
 the cathedral was built under one architect, one master-mason, 
 and one bishop, though a period of thirty-five years was em- 
 ployed in its erection. The cost was $3,739,770, including 
 $53,000 for the stone wall, iron fence, and other accessories. 
 W e cannot refrain from quoting the copy of a document whi< h 
 Sir Christopher caused to be posted in various parts of the struc- 
 ture. It explains itself, and also redounds to the credit of the 
 great architect. 
 
 September 25, 1695 : — Whereas, among laborers &c, that un- 
 godly custom of swearing is too frequently heard, to the dishonor 
 of God and contempt of authority ; and to the end, therefore, that 
 such impiety may be utterly banished from these works, intended 
 for the service of God and the honor of religion — it is ordered, 
 that customary swearing shall be a sufficient crime to dismiss any 
 laborer that comes to the call ; and the clerk of the works, upon 
 sufficient proof, shall dismiss them accordingly. And if any master 
 working by task, shall not, upon admonition, reform this profana- 
 tion among his apprentices, servants, and laborers, it shall be con- 
 strued to his fault ; and he shall be liable to be censured by the 
 commissioners. 
 
 This is the only cathedral of England in the Roman or Italian 
 style of architecture. On examining the structure we found 
 that we had previously formed a just conception of it. It had 
 a more modern and clean appearance on the exterior than we 
 had expected; but, while it was grand and imposing, it did 
 not impress us with the feeling of vastness. There being no 
 points of view from which its great length can be seen to advan- 
 tage, we have never yet obtained a right impression of it, and 
 could not help smiling at what may be the obtuseness of our 
 intellect, in being unable to get enthusiastic as Sir John Denham 
 did, when in contemplation of it he wrote as follows : — 
 
 Crowned with that sacred pile, so vast, so high, 
 That whether 'tis a part of earth or sky, 
 Uncertain seems, and may be thought a proud 
 Aspiring mountain or descending cloud. 
 
 Its length is 500 feet ; width at transepts 285 feet, and at the 
 west front 180 feet. The campaniles are each 222 feet high. 
 The dome is 145 feet in diameter, and 365 feet high from the grad- 
 ing. The Golden Gallery, as it is called, is a balustrade-enclosed 
 walk, at the apex of the dome outside, and is reached by a cir- 
 cuitous walk and climb of 616 steps. From this, one can go up,
 
 LONDON. 147 
 
 through the lantern or cupola, into the great copper ball crown- 
 ing the structure, and surmounted by a large gilded copper 
 cross. 
 
 On another day we went into it. The last part of the passage 
 is made by climbing through an opening inside of eight five-inch- 
 thick iron scrolls that assist in supporting it, and are in part de- 
 signed as decoration. These are about six feet high, with openings 
 a few inches wide between them, through which the wind rushes, 
 and through which views of the entire city may be obtained. 
 Our hats left in the clock-room below, we passed up through 
 this division and through an opening perhaps eighteen inches 
 in diameter at the bottom of the ball ; and there, a company of 
 four, not uncomfortably crowded, we had a high time. Strong 
 iron bracework was about on the inside, and an iron post or 
 principal support, perhaps five inches square, was at the centre. 
 There was a very slight vibration, but much less than we antici- 
 pated, and it gave us no impression of insecurity. The hum of 
 great London was below. We could hear no distinct sound 
 save the whistle of the wind around the cross, or through the 
 iron scrollwork. The day was comparatively still, though some 
 air was stirring. 
 
 We will not attempt to picture our feelings while here, at 
 almost the highest point over London to which a mortal has 
 ever climbed. Old St. Paul's had a spire that extended up 165 
 feet above this, and so men have climbed up 520 feet, to the top 
 of the highest building ever erected in Great Britain. On this 
 building they have been to the top of the cross, 20 feet higher 
 than we were when in the ball ; but this is exceptional, and we 
 had done almost as well as the best. Here had sat the immor- 
 tal Wren. Here had been kings and queens, the nobility of all 
 lands, poets, philosophers, prelates, and many of no renown. 
 
 As we pass down we examine the Whispering Gallery, inside 
 of the cathedral, in the drum of the dome. We look down — 
 as before from the top, or eye of the inner dome, — on pave- 
 ment and pygmies below. How awe-inspiring and vast ! From 
 this height, as also from the more elevated position above, we 
 were fully impressed with the immensity of the structure, and 
 were able to realize something of the greatness of the architect 
 who conceived it. 
 
 The attendant in the Whispering Gallery tells us to put our 
 ears against the side wall, and he would whisper to us and exhibit 
 this accidental wonder. He, being opposite, against the wall, 
 says in a whisper : " This Cathedral was built by Sir Christopher
 
 148 ENGLAND. 
 
 Wren, and was finished in the year 17 10. This dome is, &c, 
 &c." All was as distinctly heard as if we were by his side. We 
 had heard for ourselves the wonder. We had experienced all 
 that any one can experience, so far as the material work is con- 
 cerned. When we put our name on the visitors' book we felt 
 that we did more than that, for we joined the company of those 
 who for two and a half centuries have been doing as we did. 
 As long as mind endures, as often as the hand of thought 
 reaches out, it must gather whether it will or not. 
 
 It is not far from 6 P. M. of this Sunday. Service is being 
 held, and the great nave is half filled. The audience are trying 
 to hear, and a part of them are sincerely worshipping ; the re- 
 mainder, like ourselves, are " seeing the cathedral." The sounds 
 were confused and the echo troublesome, though not so much 
 so as at other places. We were favorably impressed with the 
 great length of the cathedral, and with its general look of vast- 
 ness, — not awe-stricken, but filled with delight at the privilege 
 we were enjoying in being in great St. Paul's. The large piers 
 and arches, and the arched ceiling (tunnel-like, but here and 
 there pierced with small and too flat domes), all appeared 
 heavy and substantial, — built to last. Elegant colored-glass 
 windows are about the apse, or chancel end, but the others are 
 of small square lights of clear glass. A common square black 
 ami white marble tiled floor ; monuments and tablets here and 
 there against the columns and walls ; an elegant oak organ-case, 
 in two parts, on the side walls of the choir, and just back of the 
 high, iron screenwork that separates the choir from the nave ; 
 the rich oaken stalls, — these make up the interior of St. Paul's. 
 The great central dome has dim paintings by Sir James Thorn- 
 hill, done at the time the cathedral was built. Seen, as the 
 inside of the great dome is, through smoke, which the rays of 
 light from the large windows above penetrate and make visible 
 (this effect is ever present during the light), the great dome 
 awakens a feeling of solemnity. We felt something of what we 
 were contemplating. 
 
 The shades of night were falling ; the assembly had broken 
 up, and here and there were solitary visitors, moving about 
 weird-like in the dim light as if loth to leave. We at length 
 passed out, and returned to our lodgings at West End. 
 
 What ground has been gone over between the hours of 4 and 
 8 p. m. Hyde Park, Westminster Abbey and Bridge, Parliament 
 Houses, the almost classic river, a look at St. Paul's, — and we 
 are at home and resting.
 
 LONDON. 149 
 
 The comparatively recent construction of St. Paul's deprives 
 it of such ancient monuments as may be found at the Abbey, 
 and in other English cathedrals. Those here are of white mar- 
 ble ; and, although some of them are nearly a century old, they 
 yet have a newness of design akin to statuary. One to the 
 memory of Lord Nelson is the most costly and attractive. It is 
 in one of the alcoves, or small chapels, at the west end, and the 
 entire room, some twenty feet square, is devoted to it. It is 
 elaborate and highly decorated. There is another of some emi- 
 nence at the left side of the choir. It is a life-size statue of 
 Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great lexicographer. He is buried at 
 the Abbey ; but one so poor as to live in the obscurity of a 
 garret, at length became so great as to win the second monu- 
 ment in this important church. 
 
 " There 's a divinity that shapes our ends, 
 Rough-hew them how we will." 
 
 The monuments of this church are of consequence as regards 
 their elegance of design. In no other English cathedral is there 
 so large a percentage of works of this kind. Impediments to the 
 introduction of monuments were offered ; and it was not till i 791 
 that the opposition was overcome, when application was made 
 to erect a stone to the memory of John Howard, the philanthro- 
 pist, who died at Kherson, Russia, Jan. 26, 1790. The door 
 thus being opened, under the supervision of the Royal Academy 
 many others have been erected, among which those of men of 
 military fame prevail. The first monument was set up in 1795. 
 In the south aisle, against the wall, is a full-size statue of Bishop 
 Reginald Heber. He is dressed in canonical robes, his right 
 hand on his breast, his left resting on a Bible standing endwise. 
 He died at Trichinopoly, India, April 3, 1826, at the age of 42, 
 and is celebrated as being the author of the well-known hymn 
 beginning, " From Greenland's icy mountains." The cathedral 
 has a fine basement, hardly inferior in interest to the great room 
 of the cathedral above it, and always visited by the tourist. 
 Here, as at the Whispering Gallery, the fee of a shilling is 
 charged. The room is fifteen feet high, and is clean and airy. 
 The floor is paved with stone slabs, and a large number of win- 
 dows thoroughly light it. Innumerable columns of stone, for 
 the support of the arching overhead, and floor resting upon 
 it, give the room a forest-like appearance ; though by no 
 means depriving it also of the look of a vast chapel, for at 
 the proper place there is an altar and its appurtenances. In
 
 150 ENGLAND. 
 
 this vicinity are a few effigies and tablets from the first cathe- 
 dral. Forming an architectural museum, are a lot of relit S 
 that were found in the ground at the building of this cathedral, 
 and so are of Roman origin, or were used as parts of the old 
 cathedral. 
 
 Under the centre of the great dome, in this crypt, stands the 
 granite sarcophagus in which' rests the dust of Arthur Wellesley, 
 the Duke of Wellington, who died at Walmer Castle, near heal, 
 Sept. 14, 1852, at the age of eighty-three. This sarcophagus 
 is grand. So justly great is the public esteem for the man, 
 that monuments to his memory are almost as common in Eng- 
 land as are tablets of " the Lion and the Unicorn fighting for 
 the crown," or as Washington Streets and men named " George 
 W." are in America. In the crypt is the gorgeous catafalque 
 on which were borne the remains of Wellington at the funeral 
 procession, — the elegant wheels made from cannon captured 
 by him. For a small fee persons are admitted within the iron 
 fence to make examinations, — always accompanied by a guide, 
 whose duty is to see that visitors carry away nothing save the 
 story he tells them. 
 
 To us the most interesting object in the entire cathedral is in 
 this crypt. At the right hand, as one faces the rear end, and 
 well along on the side, is the last resting-place of the architect 
 of the building, Sir Christopher Wren. The spot was selected 
 by himself, and is really, though unpretending, a choice place of 
 sepulture. It is under one of the windows, and is very light ; 
 and, if we mistake not, rays of the sun at times fall on the tomb. 
 There is no imposing monument, — only a level stone slab some 
 three feet wide and six feet long, two feet from the floor, bearing 
 this simple statement : — 
 
 HERE LYETH 
 
 SR. CHRISTOPHER WREN 
 
 The Builder of This Cathedral 
 
 Church of ST. PAUL &c. 
 
 who Dyed 
 
 in the Year of our LORD 
 
 MDCCXXII1 
 
 And of his Age XCI. 
 
 On the western jamb of the window is a marble tablet, six feet 
 three inches long, and three feet high, sunk into a panel, fin- 
 ished with a well cut egg-and-tongue moulding, and inscribed as 
 follows : —
 
 LONDON. 151 
 
 LECTOR SI MONUMENTUM REQUIRIS 
 CIRCUMSPICE. 
 
 (Reader, if you seek his monument, look around you.) 
 
 He contracted a cold in coming from Hampton Court to 
 London, which doubtless hastened his death, but he died as he 
 had lived, in great serenity. In the last days of his life he was 
 accustomed to take a nap after dinner. On the 25th of Feb- 
 ruary, 1723, his constant servant, thinking he slept longer than 
 usual, went into his room and found him dead in his chair. 
 
 Two events of special interest took place in this year. On the 
 1 6th of July was born Sir Joshua Reynolds, the eminent painter. 
 Elmes says : — 
 
 The placid soul of Wren might, by a poetical license, be imagined 
 to have informed the equally placid mind of Reynolds, for no two 
 men could be found to form a more just parallel ; equally distin- 
 guished for industry, love of art, placidity, modesty, communicative- 
 ness, and disinterestedness. ... At the head of your respected 
 arts, ye both lie in honor, and in possession of the love and rever- 
 ence of your countrymen, beneath the same vast dome that honors 
 both your memories. Goodness and ye fill up one monument. 
 
 In this year also, 1723, was erected our old Christ Church on 
 Salem Street, Boston. The design of this has been attributed to 
 Wren, and we are inclined to think that indirectly he aided its 
 conception. As he died at the great age of ninety-one, and was 
 very feeble before his death, it can hardly be presumed that he 
 made the drawings ; but he may have dictated them. More 
 probably he may have made a design some years before, which, 
 being at hand, found its way to Boston ; or the plan may have 
 been made by a former apprentice, who carried on his master's 
 work. Again, this design may have been copied, almost with- 
 out the change of a line, from St. Bartholomew's-by-the-W r ard- 
 robe j for that, so far as the interior is concerned, is its prototype, 
 even to the painted cherub-heads in the spandrils of the arches 
 over the galleries. St. Bartholomew's was built from Wren's 
 designs in 1692, and so was 31 years old at the time of the 
 erection of our Boston church. The London church is 79 feet 
 ^9 feet wide, and 38 feet high. The dimensions of Christ 
 Church are 70 feet, 50 feet, and 35 feet. Aside from the 
 likeness of their interiors, there is a singular agreement in the 
 pillar-capitals and gallery fronts, and also in the mouldings, 
 Combinations, altar-work, and vases. Their exteriors have little in
 
 t 52 ENGLAND. 
 
 common. There are two ranges of windows in each ; but those 
 <>!' the London church are circular-headed on the second range, 
 and only segmental tor the lust, like those at Boston King's 
 Chapel ; while at our Christ "Church all the windows have circular 
 tops. The London church has a plain flat-roofed tower, 80 feet 
 high, without a steeple, though it is quite possible there may at 
 some tune have been one. This tower is at the right-hand cor- 
 ner instead of at the centre of the front. 
 
 The steeple on our Christ Church was blown down in the 
 great gale of 18 15, and rebuilt by Bulfinch, it is said, according 
 to the original design. In its important features, and even 
 details, this steeple is much like Wren's. This is not the place 
 to argue the case, — but we repeat, the probabilities are that 
 Christ Church was indirectly designed by the distinguished 
 architect of St. Paul's. 
 
 The National Gallery of Paintings is a building of large dimen- 
 sions, situated on Trafalgar Square, one of the main business 
 centres, which is not far from half a mile from the Thames, and 
 about midway between Westminster and St. Paul's. It con- 
 tains eleven rooms for the display of over six hundred pictures, 
 all of them being choice works of the Masters. The building is 
 open to the public daily. 
 
 The British Museum is an enormous building, light and airy. 
 In it, free to the public, is an unsurpassed collection of preserved 
 animals, which can better be imagined than described. How 
 wide is the field to which one is introduced, in the works of art 
 or places of entertainment, in this vast metropolis ! Museums 
 and galleries abound. Accessible to the public, they are prac- 
 tically free, and better than can be found elsewhere in the 
 world. 
 
 How abundant are the means of travel. The cab system is 
 here at its perfection. The low prices are regulated by law. It 
 costs one passenger a shilling, and two passengers a shilling and 
 sixpence, to go a reasonable distance, — farther than from the 
 Boston North End depots to those at the other part of the city. 
 Cabs are plenty and are to be found standing in the centre of 
 all principal thoroughfares. It is the law also that a tariff-card, 
 in readable type, shall be put up inside of every cab. 
 
 Omnibuses abound, always with seats on the top as well as 
 inside. The horse-cars, or trams, are heavier than ours, and not 
 so handsome, but they are clean and well managed. Like the 
 omnibuses, they have seats on top, where the travellers sit back 
 to back. Then there is the underground railway. This runs
 
 LONDON. 153 
 
 almost around the entire city, and has a double track. Steam 
 trains, of many carriages, are constantly passing both ways. At 
 convenient points are stations where passengers descend and 
 return by wide stairways through well-lighted and spacious train- 
 houses. This road is in all respects a great success. Perhaps 
 half of it is through tunnels, but much of it is open to the sky, 
 and the cars are lighted artificially. So frequent are the trains 
 that one goes to the station at random, as he would to an omni- 
 bus, sure of not having long to wait. 
 
 We have spoken of the oft-running and well-patronized boats 
 on the river. London is perfectly supplied with facilities for 
 transit. Not for a moment would the overcrowded horse-cars, 
 often seen here in our Boston be tolerated. We do not re- 
 member once standing in any public conveyance in England or 
 on the Continent. 
 
 The public parks of London are very numerous, and are 
 admirably located for convenience. Their total extent is greater 
 than in any other city of the world. Prominent among these 
 are Hyde Park, containing 400 acres ; St. James's and Regent's 
 parks, containing 450 acres each ; and Kensington Gardens 
 with 290. All these are within the metropolitan district, and 
 are as readily accessible to the public as Boston Common or the 
 Public Garden. Besides these, London's suburban parks are of 
 incredible number and extent. It is enough to name some of 
 them, and say that all these, and many more, are within six 
 or eight miles of the centre of the city and easily reached. 
 Victoria Park has 300 acres, Finsbury 115, Hackney Downs 50, 
 Woolwich Common and Greenwich Park 174 each, Peckham, 
 Rye, and Soiithwark 63 each, Wandworth Common 302, Wim- 
 bledon 628. A little farther off is Richmond Park with 2,253 
 acres, the largest park near London. Then comes Windsor with 
 3,800, and Hampton Court and Bushey Park 1,842 each, and 
 finally Kew Park and Gardens (the finest botanic garden in 
 England), containing 684 acres. Most of them date back for 
 centuries. Kew Garden is remarkable for its neatness, and hun- 
 dreds of thousands annually visit it. In the vicinity are refresh- 
 ment houses, kept in good order, which make the gardens a 
 favorite place of resort, on Sundays as well other days. 
 
 Volumes might be written in regard to these parks, and 
 
 then only • would he given. None of them 
 
 are finished like Central Park, New York, — that is. as far as 
 
 sand lodge an concerned, — but in all else the London 
 
 parks are its equals, and the < ity has done nobly for the comfort
 
 L54 ENGLAND. 
 
 and health of the public. The more one experiences of London 
 life, the more he realizes its greatness. Everywhere he dis- 
 i overs what is well adapted to the wants and tastes of our cen- 
 tury; the old appears new, and the new old. Within a few 
 minutes' walk of each other are over forty churches built imme- 
 diately after the fire of 1666, two hundred years ago. Some of 
 them have fine interiors, as St. Bride's, St. Stephen's Walbrook, 
 Bow Church, St. Martin's in the Fields, and St. Clement Danes. 
 In beauty, save perhaps the pews, these excel the < hurches 
 newly built, with the exception of a few modem Gothic struc- 
 tures. Few of the churches named have many worshippers ; 
 the population has removed, but veneration for the old spots, 
 and an inherent disinclination to change, say " Stay !" anil so the 
 old churches stand forlorn. 
 
 So interesting are all the old churches of London, that it is 
 with an effort we refrain from speaking of them in detail. 
 One, however, we feel justified in naming, and in giving a few 
 items of its history. St. Sepulchre's is near the Old Bailey prison. 
 Here preached John Rogers, the first of the martyrs during 
 the reign of Queen Mary. He was burned at the stake in 
 Smithfield, Feb. 4, 1555. The place of his execution is now a 
 small square near his church. He is the John Rogers of the New 
 England Primer, wherein we are told that " his wife followed 
 him to the place of execution, with nine small children, and one 
 at the breast." The perplexing question of number has been 
 solved, for other accounts say distinctly that there were ten 
 children in all. 
 
 Of more than common interest to Americans is the fact that 
 in St. Sepulchre's church are buried the remains of Capt. John 
 Smith, who in 1606 made the settlement of Virginia at James- 
 town, and whose life was saved by the intercession of Pocahon- 
 tas. He was born at Willoughby, England, in 1579, and died in 
 London, June 21, 1631. He made voyages of dis< overy along 
 the coast of New England, landing at the Isles of Shoals. Just 
 250 years afterwards, in 1864, a stone monument was erected to 
 his memory on Star Island. There was formerly in this church 
 a monument in remembrance of him, which has long been re- 
 moved. We have been fortunate enough to obtain the poetical 
 part of the inscription : — 
 
 Here lies one conquered, that hath conquered kings, 
 Subdued large territories, and done things 
 Which to the world impossible would seem, 
 But that the truth is held in more esteem. 
 Shall I report his former service done, 
 In honor of his God and Christendom ?
 
 LONDON. 155 
 
 How that he did divide, from pagans three, 
 
 Their heads and lives, types of his chivalry ? — 
 
 For which great service, in that climate done, 
 
 Brave Sigismundus, King of Hungarion, 
 
 Did give him, as a coat of arms, to wear, 
 
 Three conquered heads, got by his sword and spear ; 
 
 Or shall I tell of his adventures since, 
 
 Done in Virginia, that large continent ? 
 
 How that he subdued kings unto his yoke, 
 
 And made those heathens flee, as wind doth smoke ; 
 
 And made their land, being of so large a station 
 
 An habitation for our Christian nation ; 
 
 Where God is glorified, their wants supplied; 
 
 Which else, for necessaries, must have died. 
 
 But what avails his conquests, now he lies 
 
 Interred in earth, a prey to worms and flies ? 
 
 Oh ! may his soul in sweet Elysium sleep, 
 
 Until the keeper, that all souls doth keep, 
 
 Return to judgment ; and that after thence 
 
 With angels he may have his recompense. 
 
 By the will of Robert Dow, a London citizen and merchant- 
 tailor, who died in 1612, the annual sum of 26 s. 8d. was be- 
 queathed for the delivery of a solemn exhortation to the 
 condemned prisoners of Newgate near by, on the night previous 
 to their execution. Says the historian Stow : — 
 
 It was provided that the clergyman of St. Sepulchre's should 
 come in the night time, and likewise early in the morning, to the 
 window of the prison where they lie, and there ringing certain tolls 
 with a hand-bell appointed for the purpose, should put them in 
 mind of their present condition and ensuing execution, desiring 
 them to be prepared therefore as they ought to be. When they 
 are in the cart, and brought before the wall of the church [on the 
 way to Tyburn], there he shall stand ready with the same bell, and 
 after certain tolls, rehearse the appointed prayer, desiring all the 
 people there present to pray for them. 
 
 A work entitled " Annals of Newgate " says, it was for many 
 years a custom for the bellman of St. Sepulchre's, on the eve of 
 execution, to go under the walls of Newgate, and to repeat the 
 following verses in the hearing of the criminals in the condemned 
 cell : — 
 
 All you that in the condemn'd cell do lie, 
 
 Prepare you, foi to-morrow you shall die. 
 
 Watch all and pray, the hour is drawing near, 
 
 When you before th' Almighty must appear. 
 
 1 mine well yourselves, in time repent, 
 
 That you may not t' eternal flames be senl ; 
 
 And when St. 'I'uli hre'a bi II to morrow tolls, 
 
 The Lord have mercy on your souls ! 
 
 Pa I twelve o'clock I
 
 L56 ENGLAND. 
 
 We visited many of these venerable churches, generally always 
 on weekdays, and found female sextons in attendance, — some- 
 times almost ready to hang their harps on the willows, as they 
 related the decline from days of old. Our Old South, on Wash- 
 ington Street, is not nearer to commercial activity, nor more 
 removed from the resident population, than arc a hundred 
 churches in the world's metropolis. 
 
 On our visit to St. Clement Danes, in the Strand, — an ele- 
 gant structure without and within, nearly 200 years old, — we 
 inquired for Dr. Samuel Johnson's pew, for he there attended 
 church ; and we found it near the end of the left gallery, a 
 front pew, No. iS. There are columns as in King's Chapel, 
 Boston, and against one of these the old lexicographer sat for 
 years, often with the smooth-thinking and easy-going Boswell 
 beside him. Making mention of one of these occasions, Bos- 
 well says : — 
 
 On the 9th of April, 1773, being Good Friday, I breakfasted with 
 him, on tea and cross-buns ; Dr. Levet, as Frank called him. making 
 tea. He carried me with him to the church of St. Clement Danes, 
 where he had his seat ; and his behavior was, as I had imagined to 
 myself, solemnly devout. I shall never forget the tremulous 
 earnestness with which he pronounced the awful petition of the 
 Litany : "In the hour of death, and at the day of judgment, good 
 Lord deliver us ! " We went to church both in the morning and 
 evening. In the interval between the services we did not dine ; but 
 he read the Greek Testament, and I turned over several of his 
 books. 
 
 In memory of the former occupant, a brass plate, some six 
 inches high and eight inches wide, is let into the back of the 
 pew, and reads as follows : — 
 
 In this pew, and beside this pillar, for many years attended 
 divine service the celebrated Dr. Samuel Johnson, the philosopher, 
 the poet, the lexicographer, the profound moralist, and chief writer 
 of his time. Born 1709, died 1784. In the remembrance and 
 honor of noble faculties, nobly employed, some of the inhabitants 
 of the parish of St. Clement Danes have placed this slight memorial, 
 A. D. 1851. 
 
 The inscription is said to have been prepared by Dr. Croly, 
 rector of St. Stephen's Walbrook. Each of us sat where the 
 verger informed us Johnson used to sit. The pulpit is placed as 
 it is in King's Chapel, and the Johnson pew is within easy reach 
 of it. We thought of I )r. Taylor, the rector, who was called up at 
 night, when Johnson's wife Tetty died, to go to Johnson's house,
 
 LONDON. 157 
 
 and attempt to soothe and assuage his grief. He had a great 
 mind and, when stricken, great was his sorrow. The record is : — 
 
 The letter calling him was brought to Dr. Taylor at his house in 
 the cloisters, Westminster, about three in the morning, and as it 
 signified his earnest desire to see him, he got up and went to John- 
 son and found him in tears, and in extreme agitation. After a little 
 while together Johnson requested him to join with him in prayer. 
 He then prayed extempore, as did Dr. Taylor, and thus, by means 
 of that piety which was ever his primary object, his troubled mind 
 was in some degree soothed and composed. 
 
 Dr. Taylor once told Boswell that, on entering the room, 
 Johnson expressed his grief in the strongest manner he had ever 
 read, and that he much regretted his language was not pre- 
 served. It was doubtless in this house in Gough Square, that 
 Johnson passed ten melancholy years. Sad indeed must have 
 been his distress, when he was compelled to write the following 
 to his friend Richardson, the novelist. 
 
 Gough Square, 16th March, 1756. 
 Sir, — I am obliged to entreat your assistance. I am now under 
 arrest for five pounds eighteen shillings. Mr. Strahan, from whom 
 I would have received the necessary help in this case, is not at 
 home, and I am afraid of not finding Mr. Miller. If you will be 
 so good as to send me this sum, I will very gratefully repay you, 
 and add to it all former obligations. I am, sir, your most obedient 
 and most humble servant, 
 
 Sam. Johnson. 
 Sent Six Guineas. 
 Witness, William Richardson. 
 
 This reminds us of Will's Coffee House where Johnson, Addi- 
 son, Goldsmith, and others of like spirit so often congregated. 
 We found it an ordinary three-story brick building, at the corner 
 of a street near Covent Garden. There is a common liquor 
 store in the first story, and a tenement above. 
 
 There are three particular things one who visits London 
 should always see, — the Tower, Hampton Court, and the Bun- 
 hill Burial-ground. 
 
 The Tower, as it is familiarly called, is not a tower simply, nor any 
 single building, but twelve acres of ground enclosed by a massive 
 Stone wall, one side of which borders the Thames. Inside the 
 in' losure are stone buildings, the principal of which is the large 
 one in the centre. It is several stories high, square in plan, 
 measures about one hundred and fifty feet on e;u h side, and
 
 158 I NGLAND. 
 
 has square towers at each angle. These are continued up some 
 twenty feet above the main building, and each is crowned with 
 a Moorish dome and a weather vane. The White 'lower, as it 
 is called, is another of the buildings, and was erected in 1078. 
 
 One finds a comfortable waiting room just inside the grounds, 
 and there is always a company of visitors in waiting. \\ hen 
 twenty are present, one of the guards leads the way hurriedly 
 through the portcullis, calling attention to the several parts of 
 the edifices. 
 
 W e go through the Museum of Armor. On each side are 
 effigy horses, facing towards the passage-way, and on them are 
 images of the kings dressed in the armor worn in life. 
 
 W e go into the dungeon where for twelve years Sir Walter 
 Raleigh was confined ; the ancient chapel of St. John, five hun- 
 dred years old ; the modern armory ; the dungeon-keep where 
 are deposited the crown-jewels and other articles of royal value, 
 all enclosed in glass, and protected by iron-work. 
 
 Hastily we see the Traitor's Gate, through which Raleigh, 
 Sidney, and Russell were taken into the Tower ; the room oppo- 
 site, where the two sons of Edward IV. were murdered at the 
 instigation of Richard III. ; the Beauchamp Tower, where Anne 
 Boleyn and Lady Jane Gray were detained ; the old banquet- 
 hall, in which are sixty thousand rifles. For particulars the 
 reader is referred to " Historical Memorials of the Tower," by 
 Lord de Ros, published at London in 1867. 
 
 Hampton Court is reached by steam railway, and is fifteen 
 miles from London. This palace was founded by Cardinal 
 Wolsey; and of his building, three large quadrangles, in the 
 Tudor style, remain. Large additions were made by William 
 III., from designs by Sir Christopher Wren. The state rooms 
 contain a splendid collection of paintings by Holbein, Vandyke, 
 Kneller. and West, and also the seven original cartoons of 
 Raphael. Some of the rooms are still furnished as sleeping- 
 rooms, as they were when occupied by kings and queens 
 centuries ago. The public are freely admitted to the entire 
 premises. 
 
 The extensive grounds are laid out in Dutch style, with fine 
 avenues. In its greenhouse is the largest and the most produc- 
 tive grapevine in Europe. It was planted in 1767, and at the 
 time of our visit it was said to have over three thousand bunches 
 of Black Hamburg grapes upon it. The roots of the vine are 
 in a garden, and the trunk, which is about six inches in diame- 
 ter, extends three feet from the ground, along the wall of the
 
 LONDON. 159 
 
 house, which it then enters. Inside, the vine spreads over the 
 entire top, which is built in the usual conservatory style, with a 
 roof having but one slope. It is hardly needful to say that these 
 grapes are raised solely for the royal family. 
 
 There are hundreds of acres in the grounds, and adjoining it 
 is a park, the circumference of which is over five miles, — a 
 delightful spot to visit. The trees, embowered avenues, terraces, 
 gardens, and long vistas yet remain as they were centuries ago. 
 The soil, once sacred to the tread of royalty, is now a republican 
 delight to the multitude. 
 
 A remarkable depositary of the sainted dead is Bunhill Burial- 
 ground, in one of the busiest parts of London, on a great thor- 
 oughfare, opposite the house in which John Wesley died on the 
 2d of March, 1791. Almost adjoining this is the church in 
 which Wesley preached. The burial-ground was laid out for a 
 sacred purpose ; the burial of Nonconformists and their friends, 
 who have made the ground classic. No cathedral cemetery, to 
 which they could not be admitted, has an honor greater than 
 this. Here rests the sacred poet, Isaac Watts, whose monument 
 tells us that he died Nov. 25, 1748. There is a monument to 
 the memory of Susannah Wesley, the mother of nineteen chil- 
 dren, two of whom were John and Charles. Here is the grave 
 of John Bunyan, who died Aug. 31, 1688; and that of Daniel 
 Defoe, the author of " Robinson Crusoe." Could the doctrine 
 of a literal resurrection be true, no grander company would as- 
 semble at one spot, or walk forth into glory clad in whiter robes 
 than theirs. No pope or bishop, of Roman Church or English, 
 could understand the plaudit, " Well done good and faithful ser- 
 vant, enter thou into the joy of thy Lord," better than would 
 they. These came up out of great tribulation, and so would 
 shine resplendent. 
 
 London is great. A volume appropriated to each of a thou- 
 sand things would not tell the story. Her history has a vast 
 reach and the records have been well kept. Her population 
 is a round four and a half millions, — as much as New York, 
 Philadelphia, Chicago, Cincinnati, Boston, and ten more of our 
 largest New England cities combined. Her great Library at 
 the Museum has as many books as Harvard and Yale colleges. 
 and the boston Public Library, all put together. 
 
 Our stay here was from Sunday, May 12, to Saturday the 25th, 
 about two weeks, and no hour of time was unemployed. We 
 were amid scenes of which history had made the letter some- 
 what familiar ; and now personal observation made the spirit a
 
 1G0 ENGLAND. 
 
 living reality. No one can know London till he sojourns there 
 for months, visiting its places of interest, and reading anew the 
 history of each in the admirable works written for the purpose. 
 
 As regards the habits of daily life we find but little that is 
 peculiar. The influence of the press and of travel have changed 
 the system of domestic as well as political economy. Both 
 nations, American and English, have given and received. It 
 savors perhaps of egotism, but it is exceedingly easy to say that 
 the influence of the daughter excels that of the mother. There 
 are more traces of America in England, than of England in 
 America. The modifications have been from our direction, for it 
 is true now, as in Bishop Berkeley's day, that " Westward the star 
 of empire takes its way." Liberalism in England is not Com- 
 munism, and will never be. Liberty may be ill-used by fanatics, 
 but the sound sense of England will take care of itself, and " out 
 of the bitter will come forth sweet." There are some points of 
 English polity to be spoken of, but not now. 
 
 On this Saturday, May 25, we take a train at 1 p.m. for 
 Oxford.
 
 OXFORD. 161 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 OXFORD. 
 
 WE now begin a tour through the central part of Eng- 
 land, in a northerly direction towards Scotland, for 
 we intend to see England with unusual thorough- 
 ness. Our first place of sojourn is Oxford, where we arrive at 
 3.30 p. m., Saturday, May 25, having had a two and half hours' 
 ride from London. The place presents a rural appearance, trees 
 and gardens being interspersed among the buildings. Nowhere 
 is there a commercial look, for it is emphatically a university 
 town, and dependent mainly for support on its colleges. It was 
 made a seat of learning at an early day, and is thus referred to 
 by Pope Martin II. a. d. 882. Situated between the rivers 
 Cherwell and Isis, it has a population of 31,544, and is irregu- 
 larly built, with many narrow and crooked streets. Many of the 
 buildings are old, yet in good repair. Tradition says that this 
 was a favorite resort of Alfred the Great. 
 
 In one of the public streets the martyrs Latimer, Ridley, and 
 Cranmer were burned. The spot is opposite Balliol College, 
 and marked by a very imposing brown sandstone Gothic mon- 
 ument about thirty feet high, erected in 1841, from designs by 
 Gilbert Scott. 
 
 Latimer and Ridley were led to the stake Oct. 16, 1555. A 
 bag of gunpowder was fastened about the body of the former, — 
 probably as an act of charity, to hasten his death, — and so he 
 died immediately. While being bound, he said to his com- 
 panion : " Be of good comfort, Master Ridley, and play the 
 man ; we shall this day light such a candle, by God's grace, in 
 England, as I trust shall never be put out." It never has been 
 extinguished, and will continue to " shine brighter and brighter, 
 to the perfect day." 
 
 Latimer and Ridley, John Rogers, who was burned at Smith- 
 field, Feb. 4 of the same year, and Cranmer, burned in Oxford 
 March 21, 1556, were graduates of Cambridge, the rival univer- 
 sity of Oxford. These two distinguished seats of learning are to 
 
 11
 
 162 ENGLAND. 
 
 England what Harvard College and Vale are to New England. 
 Cambridge has long been recognized as liberal and reformatory 
 in tendency, while Oxford has prided herself on her conserva 
 tism. 1 )ean Stanley, in a late speech, ventured the remark that 
 iridge was celebrated for educating men to be martyrs, and 
 Oxford for burning them. Cranmer was a fellow-laborer with 
 Latimer and Ridley. Me was arrested and cited to appear at 
 Rome within eighty days, but could not do so, and was con- 
 demned as contumacious. He was at first firm, but the fear of 
 death overcame him and he recanted, and repeated his recanta- 
 tion many times, but without avail. In his last effort he declared 
 that he had been the greatest of persecutors, and comparing 
 himself to the penitent thief, humbly begged for pardon ; but 
 in spite of all, on March 21, 1556, Queen Mary — who had a 
 bitter hatred towards him, as did the bishops, who were resolved 
 not only on his degradation but his death — directed him to 
 prepare for the stake. A recantation was given him, which he 
 was ordered to read publicly to the spectators. He transcribed 
 and signed it, and kept a copy, which he altered, making a dis- 
 avowal of his recantations. After listening to a sermon, he finally 
 avowed himself a Protestant, declaring that he would die in his 
 old faith ; that he believed neither in papal supremacy nor in 
 transubstantiation, proclaiming that the hand which had signed 
 his recantation should be the first to suffer from the fire. He 
 was taken to the spot where Latimer and Ridley were burnt the 
 October before, and died like them, his death adding light to the 
 candle which could never be put out. As the flames rose about 
 him he thrust in his right hand, and held it there till it was con- 
 sumed, crying aloud, " This hand hath offended ; this unworthy 
 right hand." His last audible words were, " Lord Jesus, receive 
 my spirit." 
 
 The city has been for centuries one of great respectability and 
 repute, and Charles I. once made it his headquarters. The 
 cathedral attached to Christ's College is on the site of a priory, 
 founded in the eighth century. It is Gothic, of the style of the 
 twelfth century, and has a spire 146 feet high. This is one of the 
 five cathedrals of England having spires ; but it is, however, only 
 a remnant of a church which, probably, when entire, had little 
 merit. St. Peter's is the oldest church in Oxford ; but St. Mary's 
 is also venerable, and has a steeple 180 feet high. 
 
 The Bodleian Library, opened in 1602, contains three hun- 
 dred thousand volumes. There is connected with the library a 
 museum containing many portraits of distinguished people. In
 
 OXFORD. 163 
 
 this room, among other prominent objects of interest, is an 
 oaken chair, once a part of the ship in which Sir Francis Drake 
 made his celebrated voyage around the world. He set sail from 
 Plymouth, England, Dec. 13, 1577, over three hundred years 
 ago, and reached home again in November, 1580. He died 
 and was buried at sea, near Puerto Bello, Dec. 27, 1595. 
 
 The poet Cowley, in 1662, composed the following verse, 
 which is engraven on a silver plate and affixed to the chair : — 
 
 To this great ship, which round the Globe has run, 
 
 And matched in race the chariot of the sun, 
 
 This Pythagorian ship (for it may claim 
 
 Without presumption, so deserved a name) 
 
 By knowledge once, and transformation now, 
 
 In her new shape this sacred port allow. 
 
 Drake and his ship, could not have wished from Fate, 
 
 An happier station, or more blest estate ; 
 
 For lo ! a seat of endless rest is given, 
 
 To her in Oxford, and to him in Heaven. 
 
 Here is exhibited the lantern used by Guy Fawkes in the 
 memorable plot to blow up the Houses of Parliament, Nov. 5, 
 1605. It is an ordinary lantern, with holes through the tin. In 
 fact, it is precisely like those used in New England fifty years 
 ago. 
 
 The college buildings are mostly built of yellowish sandstone, 
 now bedimmed with age, and many of them are much decayed. 
 They are unlike our college buildings, being constructed with an 
 imposing facade, through whose centre is an arch, under the 
 second story, opening into an enclosed quadrangle. These 
 quadrangles vary in dimensions, from one hundred to one hun- 
 dred and fifty feet square, and the students' rooms open into 
 them. Out of the quadrangle nearest the street, similar arches 
 may often lead into other quadrangles in the rear of the first, or 
 at its sides ; so that the establishment may be extended, in a 
 series of buildings, without losing its primal characteristics. 
 
 These roofless squares have velvet grass, with wide walks 
 around the outside, against the buildings, and cross-paths lead- 
 ing to the doorways and arches. Scrupulously clean is every 
 inch of college ground in Oxford. Not a piece of paper litters 
 the lawn ; and many students have flower-pots at their win- 
 dows. Fuschias, petunias, nasturtiums, and geraniums were 
 abundant The buildings vary in design, but are all three 01 
 
 four stories high. Some of them are built out flush ; and others 
 have corridors, cloister-like, under the second story, around their 
 quadrangles.
 
 164 ENGLAND. 
 
 Connected with many colleges are large parks, for centuries 
 used as places of academic resort. They have avenues and 
 trees like Boston Common, and the main avenue at Merton Col- 
 lege has a circuit miles in length. Too much cannot be said 
 in praise of those classic grounds. Flower-plats are cultivated, 
 and fine shrubbery ; and there are brooks, embankments, and 
 bridges. In a word, if paradise ever was lost, much of it has 
 here been regained. It is no stretch of the imagination to think 
 that Milton, educated amidst similar grounds at Cambridge, 
 was on their account more inclined to meditate on " Paradise 
 Regained." 
 
 The antiquity of Oxford as a seat of learning is undisputed. 
 It is so referred to by Giraldus Cambrensis in 1180, more than 
 seven hundred years ago. Vacarius, a Lombard, lectured here 
 on civil law, about the year 1149. The first use of the word 
 University (universitas) , in this sense, appears in a statute of 
 King John in 1201. It was applied to similar institutions in 
 Paris, in an ordinance of Pope Innocent III., bearing date 12 15. 
 The place was so recognized as a desirable resort for persons of 
 education, that Wood, its principal historian, says : " At one 
 time there were within its precincts thirty thousand persons 
 claiming to be scholars, though of course not all belonging to 
 the university." Its first charter was granted by Henry III. in 
 1244. 
 
 On the 10th of February, 1355, a disturbance occurred, — or 
 what in our day would be designated a rebellion, — which ended 
 in an edict from the Bishop of Lincoln, whose diocese included 
 Oxford, that thereafter there should be annually celebrated in 
 St. Mary's Church a mass for the souls of those who were killed, 
 and that the mayor, two bailiffs, and sixty of the principal citi- 
 zens should be present and offer a penny each at the great altar, 
 in default of which they were to pay one hundred marks yearly 
 to the University. The penance was afterwards mitigated, but 
 was not abolished till 1825 ; so that, in some form, it remained 
 for nearly five hundred years. 
 
 Passing over many interesting facts, we name the colleges in 
 the order of their foundation. 
 
 The University comprises twenty colleges : University, founded 
 1249; Balliol, 1263 to 1268; Merton, 1264 (removed from 
 Maiden in 1274); Exeter, 1314; Oriel, 1326; Queen's, 1340; 
 New, 1386 ; Lincoln, 1427 ; All Souls, 1437 ; Magdalen, 1456 ; 
 Brazenose, 1509; Coqjus Christi, 1516; Christ Church, 1546- 
 1547; Trinity, 1554; St. John's, 1555 ; Jesus, 1571 ; Wadham,
 
 OXFORD. 165 
 
 1613; Pembroke, 1620 j Worcester, 17 14; Keble (by subscrip- 
 tion, as a memorial to Rev. John Keble), 1870. The num- 
 ber of uudergraduates for the year 1873-4 was 2,392; the 
 whole number of members on the books was 8,532. The college 
 buildings are located near each other, though they extend over 
 an area of at least a square mile. Three or four are sometimes 
 on a single street, their grounds adjoining. The undergraduates 
 in each college average one hundred and twenty — or if all the 
 students and members be included, the average is four hundred 
 and twelve : numbers, which are small when compared with 
 those of our leading American colleges. 
 
 These colleges are in most respects as independent of each 
 other as if they were in different towns. Each has its own Mas- 
 ter, or, as we should say, President. It governs its own affairs 
 to the minutest detail, but acts always in subordination to cer- 
 tain regulations made by the Council of Management, which is 
 composed of all the Masters. 
 
 No institutions have exerted a greater influence on the world 
 than this and its companion at Cambridge. 
 
 As we walked along the shadow of these venerable walls, 
 beneath the shade of their old trees, or sat beside the gently 
 flowing streams ; as we went into the dining-halls and looked 
 upon the portraits of renowned men and upon their heraldry ; 
 as we sat on the benches which had been occupied by eminent 
 men ; as in the chapels we were inspired with new reverence 
 for things great and good ; as we wandered at will — at this time 
 of college vacation — from close to close, and remembered the 
 name and fame of the ecclesiastics, poets, historians, philoso- 
 phers, scientists, — new school and old, High Church, Low 
 Church, and No Church, — and thought of the six hundred 
 years of results since the charter and first foundation, — we felt 
 that Oxford was inexpressibly great. 
 
 The fine weather — which, as we say at home, was apparently 
 settled — enabled us, for the first time since our landing, to dis- 
 pense with overcoats ; but, as the sequel proved, only for an 
 hour. 
 
 The new foliage, the odor of flowers, the birds, the familiar 
 croak and incessant wheeling of the rooks, seemed part and 
 parrel of the premises, as if, like the trees and buildings, they 
 had been there for a century. 
 
 We attended worship al St. Peter's, heard the servire read, not 
 intoned, and listened to a matter-of-fact sermon, about as well 
 delivered as the average of sermons at home \ and at 5.30 p, .\i.,
 
 1GG ENGLAND. 
 
 of this same Sunday, were ready to move on to Stratford-upon- 
 Avon, the home of Shakespeare. Our visit was in vacation 
 time, but many students remained in the city, and we noted 
 their fine physique. None of them were puny, and hardly one 
 had the " student's look." They were good specimens of 
 Young England, square-built, solid, healthy, and stocky. Uni- 
 formity of size, demeanor, and conversation prevailed. With 
 the pleasantest memories of Oxford, so admirably adapted to 
 its great purposes, we moved out of the station towards the 
 home of one who did so much to make great thoughts the com- 
 mon property of literature and life.
 
 WARWICK. 167 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 WARWICK — STRATFORD-ON-AVON LEAMINGTON — KENILWORTH 
 
 — COVENTRY — BIRMINGHAM — LICHFIELD. 
 
 WHEN we started Sunday for Stratford we only thought 
 of briefly visiting Old Warwick on our way ; but after 
 a two hours' ride, arriving here, we were tempted to re- 
 main over night, and were soon at a comfortable hotel, a com- 
 mercial-travellers' house, near the station. It being but eight 
 o'clock, and not yet sunset, we walked out for a view of the 
 historic place, which we soon decided was one of much interest. 
 Half the houses were picturesque, many of them built in the 
 timbered and plastered style. All sorts of thoroughfares were 
 there, from broad and level, to narrow crooked and hilly. Eve- 
 ning service being just ended, an unusual number of well dressed 
 people were in the streets, and the hour reminded us of a New 
 England Sunday. 
 
 Warwick is situated on the right bank of the Avon, and has a 
 population of 10,986. 
 
 The castle is one of the finest feudal structures in England. 
 It is grandly situated, its colossal rear making a bank of the 
 river, and there are meadows and groves near by. All is in 
 most perfect repair, and on Monday it was our good privilege 
 to visit it and its remarkable grounds. It is occupied by the 
 Earl of Warwick, who kindly permits strangers to examine the 
 premises at certain times. One passes through the arched gate- 
 way, on one side of which is a room containing a museum of 
 antiquities. A prim young miss, daughter of the matronly gate- 
 keeper, glibly but bashfully gives the history of an enormous 
 pun< hbowl and other interesting things. An optional fee 
 makes things agreeable, and we pass through the grand avenue, 
 turning bark now and then to look at the high solid walls of the 
 ivy-f overed tower. 
 
 We ^<< through a remarkable lawn and gravelled avenues, 
 and not tar in the distance at our right, partially embowered in
 
 168 ENGLAND. 
 
 green, — at times on a level with us, at others on the little hill- 
 sides, — we see the ruins of monastic establishments. How 
 scrupulously everything is cared for, bearing evidence of con- 
 stant watchfulness of the servants, such as only the English 
 aristocracy can secure. 
 
 Next we walk over the great lawn, to the greenhouse five 
 hundred feet away. We are invited there by the venerable 
 gardener, but not without hope of reward. Here is the cele- 
 brated Warwick Vase ; and who, claiming knowledge of art, has 
 not heard of it? It stands on a pedestal six feet high. It is of 
 marble, now of yellowish tinge, but tolerably white. It is re- 
 markably rich in carvings, and of great age, its early history 
 being lost in antiquity. It appeared -to be six feet in diameter, 
 and the same in height. It was years ago found in a lake near 
 Tivoli, and presented to the Earl of Warwick. All over the 
 civilized world may be seen copies of this vase, made by per- 
 mission of the owner. 
 
 Standing at the door of this conservatory, and facing towards 
 the castle, a scene of wonderful beauty is presented. The spot 
 is somewhat elevated, and we look for miles over hills, velvet 
 fields, and woodlands. Conspicuous among the trees, making 
 our picture's foreground, are spreading cedars of Lebanon. 
 The river meanders on its quiet way ; and the winding road, half 
 hidden, adds its charm. Bordering the lawn which makes our 
 left foreground is the cheerful castle, in color a sort of buff- 
 tinged granite. It is by no means ancient in appearance, but 
 the reverse, except in its design. The main tower is 128 feet 
 high, and dates back full five hundred years. There is another, 
 147 feet high, of uncertain date. Ivy has its way, and covers 
 parts of the great structure. The castle is colossal, its outlines 
 broken by octagonal and square towers. Let us visit the castle 
 itself. An additional shilling is to be paid to the young woman 
 who guides us, and who only commences her tour when the 
 proper number of visitors has accumulated. We pass through 
 four or five large rooms, of elegantly finished oak and pine, 
 painted and gilded. The furniture and upholstery are rich 
 in design, — some ancient, some modern, but all in keeping 
 with the place. Pictures abound, — many of them are by the 
 Masters. Bric-a-brac is in profusion, much of it hundreds of 
 years old, presented to former earls by royalty. There is also 
 a museum of armor. In one room is a chimney, or open fire- 
 place, with its cheerful fire. It is some nine feet wide, projecting 
 well into the room, and is high enough to walk into.
 
 STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 169 
 
 What fine views from the rear windows ! Beyond are the 
 meadows and the groves ; and to the right, extending country- 
 ward, are the hills and scenery before described. 
 
 The town was formerly walled, and there yet remains a gate- 
 way, surmounted by a chapel. Half a mile up the main street is 
 Leicester Hospital, endowed centuries ago by the Earl of Lei- 
 cester, and charmingly described by Hawthorne. Here is the 
 ancient chair, said to be a thousand years old, accurate copies 
 of which are for sale. 
 
 Near by is the church, built in 1693, with its massive tower of 
 delightful proportions. How charming are the old mansions 
 with their profusion of trees, all combining to make Warwick a 
 most inviting place. 
 
 In the twilight, at the late hour of 9.30, the worshippers were 
 coming out of old St. Mary's Church, which is situated at the 
 most public centre, in the midst of a venerable churchyard. It 
 is an ancient Gothic edifice, having an end tower with a tall 
 spire above it. The dim-lighted interior carried us back into a 
 distant age. 
 
 What ground have we gone over in a few hours ! — hours not 
 over-crowded by any means. 
 
 Monday we are up early for a new ramble, — first to see 
 the town anew ; next to visit the castle already described ; 
 and then to go over the Old Hospital, and to hear its history 
 from a guide-inmate. Built and endowed by one of the 
 old earls hundreds of years ago, it has apartments of two or 
 three rooms each, accomodating perhaps ten families. These 
 are for old soldiers, who are past a given age and possess certain 
 requisites. They must have wives, and on the death of one 
 soldier his place passes to another. About $350 a year is given 
 them for subsistence, out of an endowment fund, and of course 
 the rent is free. On the death of the husband, $100 is given to 
 the widow, who must vacate the premises. If the wife dies first, 
 then the husband also gives up the apartment and endowment, 
 and goes into the common home, in another part of the build- 
 ing. Great neatness prevails, and all is under supervision of 
 the chaplain, or Master. 
 
 STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 
 
 We arrived here at 2 p. m., after a ride of an hour, and took 
 coach to the famed Red Horse Hotel, made famous by Wash- 
 ington Irving's " Sketch Book." The parlor, a low room some
 
 170 ENGLAND. 
 
 twelve feet square on the first floor, fronting on the street, is 
 used by visitors. This is the room occupied for months by 
 Irving, and his armchair is still in use. The tongs and shovel, 
 and the iron poker — Sir Geoffrey's Sceptre — are still there, 
 though the latter, having become classic, is on exhibition and 
 not for use. 
 
 The town is small, and is somewhat of a business place at the 
 very centre ; but it is mostly rural, though a few of the streets 
 are paved and the buildings of some consequence. It is situ- 
 ated on the River Avon, a small stream, and has a population of 
 3,833. It was a place of some consequence as early as the 
 eighth century. 
 
 It of course derives its principal interest from associations with 
 the great poet, born here, probably, April 23, 1564, and who died 
 here on his birthday in 16 16. The house in which he died was 
 torn down by its proprietor many years ago, much to the regret 
 of the inhabitants, as well as the visitor ; but that in which he 
 was born, and lived for many years, still stands. It is situated 
 on a principal street, though in a quiet locality, and stands close 
 to the sidewalk, with no yard in front. It is two stories high, 
 having a pitched roof, with some breaks in it for windows ; and 
 is now supposed to be as in Shakespeare's early days. It is a 
 timbered building, with bricks filling the spaces, plastered over 
 and painted a light-gray or steel color. Its extreme length on 
 the street may be forty-five feet. Like our Mount Vernon, it is 
 owned by an association, and kept for the inspection of those in- 
 terested in places of the kind. Two matrons — some sixty-five 
 years of age, genial in demeanor and at home in conversation, 
 and having the whole story at their tongues' end — take turns 
 with each other in doing the agreeable, which costs each 
 visitor a modest shilling. We are shown the kitchen, or living- 
 room, into which the street door opens. It has no furniture 
 except a chair or two for the accomodation of visitors. The 
 fireplace is still there, — the worn hearth and the oak floor. 
 Next we see the dining-room, and the chamber in which tradi- 
 tion says Shakespeare was born. The low ceilings and the 
 saggy condition of everything aid the imagination ; it is easy to 
 feel that probably he was born here. In an adjoining room 
 are collected many things once owned by the great bard ; 
 letters written by him, and other writings with which he was 
 associated ; portraits of him by various artists. The number 
 of daily visitors is large. After a walk of ten minutes we are 
 at the Church of the Holy Trinity, a Gothic structure, large
 
 STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 171 
 
 and in thorough repair. Situated in the centre of a burial- 
 ground, and enclosed with trees, it is very long, and has a tower 
 and lofty spire. A source of revenue to the parish are Shakes- 
 peare's remains. A shilling is paid, and we enter on the side, 
 near the west end, pass down the nave, and come to the holy 
 of holies. The chancel is perhaps thirty feet long and twenty 
 feet deep, enclosed by a simple altar rail at the front. On 
 its left end wall, some six feet up from the floor, is the cele- 
 brated bust of the poet. It is painted, as described by Briton, 
 in 1816 : — 
 
 The bust is the size of life ; it is formed out of a block of soft 
 stone, and was originally painted in imitation of nature. The 
 hands and face were of flesh color, the eyes of a light hazel, and 
 the hair and beard auburn ; the doublet, or coat, was scarlet, and 
 covered with a loose black gown, or tabard, without sleeves ; the 
 upper part of the cushion was green, the under half crimson, and 
 the tassels gilt. After remaining in this state above one hundred 
 and twenty years, Mr. John Ward, grandfather to Mrs. Siddons 
 and Mr. Kemble, caused it to be repaired and the original colors pre- 
 served, in 1784, from the profits of the representation of" Othello." 
 
 In 1793 Malone foolishly caused it to be painted white. In 
 his right hand he holds a pen, and appears to be in the act of 
 writing on a sheet of paper lying on the cushion in front of him. 
 Beneath is a tablet containing the following inscription. The 
 first two lines in Latin are translated as follows : — 
 
 In judgment a Nestor, in genius a Socrates, in arts a Maro ; 
 
 The earth covers him, the people mourn for him, Olympus has him. 
 
 And next are those in English : — 
 
 Stay, passenger, why goest thou so fast ? 
 Read, if thou can'st, whom envious death hath plast 
 Within this monument, — Shakespeare; with whome 
 Quick natvre dide ; whose name doth deck ys tombe 
 Far more than cost ; sieth all yt he hath writt, 
 Leaves living art, but page to serve his witt 
 Obiit ano. Del 1616; /Etatis 53, Die. 23 Ar. 
 
 Near the monument, and in the chancel, is a plain stone, be- 
 neath which the body lies buried ; and upon it is the following 
 inscription said to have been written by the poet himself: — 
 
 Good frend, for Iesvs sake forbears 
 
 To DIGG 1 in- DVS1 1 •-' I." IS I I) HEARS ; 
 
 Blesete be yk. man yt. spares thes stones, 
 And CVRST BE HE vr. MOVES MY bones.
 
 172 ENGLAND. 
 
 In the charnel house of this ancient church are many human 
 bones. These Shakespeare had doubtless often seen, and he 
 probably shuddered at the idea that his own might be added to 
 this promiscuous heap. This thought seems to have been 
 present when he makes Hamlet ask : " Did these bones cost no 
 more i' the breeding, but to play at loggats with them ? Mine 
 ache to think on't." This dislike perhaps influenced him to 
 bestow a curse or a blessing, as future authorities might disturb 
 or respect his remains. His wife lies beside him. On her 
 gravestone is a brass plate, with the following inscription by an 
 unknown author : — 
 
 Heere lyeth interred the body of Anne, wife 
 of William Shakespeare, who departed this life 
 the 6th day of avgv : 1623, being of the age of 
 
 67 YEARES. 
 
 There is also a Latin verse, written by her daughter, and ren- 
 dered into English as follows : — 
 
 Thou, Mother, hast afforded me thy paps, — 
 Ilast given me milk and life ; alas ! for gifts 
 So great, I give thee only stones. How would 
 I rather some good Angel should remove 
 This stone from hence ; that, as Christ's body rose, 
 So should thy form ! But wishes naught avail. 
 Com'st thou soon, O Christ ! let my imprisoned 
 Mother, from this tomb soar to seek the star. 
 
 A brief outline of Shakespeare's 1 life is as follows : — 
 Tradition says that he was born April 23, 1564. The ancient 
 parchment parish register — which we were permitted to see — 
 shows that he was baptized three days after. At the age of 
 nineteen, an unusual proceeding took place in the quiet old 
 town, for the authorities were asked to permit the marriage of 
 the young man to Anne Hathaway, and after but one publica- 
 tion of the banns, instead of three, as was both practice and law. 
 A bond signed by Fulk Sandalls and John Rychardson, for in- 
 demnity to the officers of the Bishop of Worcester's ecclesiasti- 
 cal court, — for granting the questionable permission which they 
 did, and issuing the document, — bears date Nov. 28, 1582. 
 
 1 There is no uniformity in the spelling of this name. The oldest records of 
 the family give it as Shakspere, In the poet's will it is spelled Shakspeare, 
 and is so signed by him. Whenever he and his friend Ben Jonson caused it to be 
 printed, they spelled it Shakespeare. In this form we find it in almost every book 
 of that period where it appears at all. And so we have it on his wife's tombstone. 
 The probabilities are, that the later spelling was the one most approved by the 
 poet himself, as giving more correctly the usual pronunciation.
 
 STRATFORD-ON-AVON. 173 
 
 The marriage took place during the Christmas holidays, but 
 the exact day is to this time shrouded in mystery. 
 
 On the 26th day of May, 1583, six months after the hastened 
 marriage ceremony, the parish register has a record of the bap- 
 tism of his first child Susanna, and on the 2d day of February, 
 1585, of his second daughter. 
 
 It is presumed that his first play, the " First Part of Henry 
 VI." was brought out at Blackfriars Theatre, London, in 1590. 
 while its author was at the age of twenty-seven ; and it is re- 
 ported that he produced a play once in every six months after- 
 wards, till the completion of all attributed to him. On the 
 burning of the Globe theatre of London, (Southwark), which 
 was simply a summer theatre and without a roof, he removed 
 back to the town of his nativity in 161 3, where he died April 23, 
 1 6 16, on his fifty-second birthday, and realizing his own lines, — 
 
 We are such stuff 
 As dreams are made of, and our little life 
 Is rounded with a sleep. 
 
 We have no reliable account of the cause of his comparatively 
 early death ; but the Rev. John Ward, vicar of Stratford-on- 
 Avon, in 1662, forty-six years after his death, writes as follows : — 
 
 Shakspeare, Drayton, and Ben Jonson had a merie meeting, 
 and drank too hard ; for Shakspeare, it seems, died of a feavour 
 there contracted. 
 
 The next object of interest is the spot where was born and re- 
 sided Anne Hathaway, the wife of Shakespeare. This is in a 
 cluster of farmhouses called Shottery, situated within the parish 
 of Holy Trinity, and about a mile away from Shakespeare's 
 birthplace. From a gateway on the common road, a circuitous 
 lane continues half a mile through gates or bars, then resolves 
 itself into a footpath, fenced in by light wirework. The houses 
 are of the usual rural style. At last we are at the cottage where, 
 three hundred years ago, the Shakesperian courting was done. 
 It stands endwise to a beautiful road, but some fifty feet from 
 it, and enclosed by a wall. No house in England is more 
 picturesque, either in itself, or its surroundings. It looks an- 
 cient, though in good repair. It is not far from sixty feet long, 
 a story and a half high, or fifteen feet, with a pitched roof 
 covered with thatch. The small upper windows, cut into the 
 eaves, show the thatch a foot and a half thick. The building is 
 of stone, plastered and whitewashed. It is entered from the side, 
 and occupied seemingly by two or three families. There are
 
 174 ENGLAND. 
 
 vines climbing over it, and flowers in the long yard by the 
 entrance ; and there is a museum in the Anne Hathaway part. 
 
 We have not ceased regretting that we did not go in there; 
 let the reader be admonished not to go and do likewise. 
 
 Children were at play in the old road, as they were three cen- 
 turies ago. We had come three thousand miles to look upon 
 what the\- hardly think of; but without the right kind of eyes one 
 is blind. Another says, and says well : " A dwarf, standing on a 
 giant's shoulder, may see more than the giant himself." There 
 may be an undeveloped — unevolved, perhaps we should say — 
 Shakespeare among those boys. He was once thoughtless and 
 playful as they. Here Shakespeare walked and thought. A 
 good road extended from Shottery Village to his home, but the 
 short-cut across the fields alone would satisfy his mind. Philoso- 
 phy and poetry were at their best in the shorter footpath, away 
 from the " busy haunts of men." He could go quicker to the 
 house he would go to in the early eve, and quicker also to the 
 one to which he must return at the early morn ! So it continued, 
 until about Christmas of 1582, when hope ended in fruition, and 
 Richard Hathaway's daughter became Anne Shakespeare, so 
 to remain for forty-one years till 1623, — seven after her 
 William had been gathered to his fathers. It is a coincidence 
 worthy of notice, that Shakespeare's mother also survived her 
 husband, John Shakespeare, seven years. 
 
 The bond of indemnity — holding the magistrates safe from 
 penalties that might be imposed by the Bishop of Worcester or 
 his consistory court — was in the sum of $200. The signature 
 of the bondsman bears the mark of R. H.,the initials of Richard 
 1 lathaway, the bride's father ; so he of course approved the 
 proceeding. 
 
 At 8 p. M. we took cars for the beautiful town of 
 
 LEAMINGTON, 
 
 where we arrived after an hour's ride, and remained over night, 
 much enjoying our accommodation at the Avenue Hotel. Next 
 morning, after breakfast, took a stroll out over the town. It is a 
 noted place of aristocratic resort for pleasure, and for its springs 
 — a sort of cross between English Bath and American Saratoga. 
 Everywhere were facilities for the enjoyment of pleasure or health- 
 seeking tourists. It would seem as though one could hardly be 
 sick here. It was in this place that Sir Walter Scott wrote 
 " Kenilworth," and as one breathes the exhilarating air, he is
 
 KENILWORTH. 175 
 
 inclined to reduce the honors usually accorded to the great 
 writer, and imagine that it is nothing strange that, with such sur- 
 roundings, he wrote as he did. A visit to Leamington, and one 
 is in the secret of Sir Walter's power when he wrote that smooth- 
 est of romances. 
 
 Perhaps we ought to make a more economical use of adjec- 
 tives in describing the neatness of streets and the beauty of 
 public and private grounds, for this is the universal and not 
 exceptional condition. 
 
 The pink hawthorn is in bloom, and such pansies as we 
 never saw at home. Remember, this is May 28. We have not 
 anywhere in our travels seen Indian corn growing, and think 
 it is not raised. We have seen no fields of potatoes, only small 
 patches for family use ; and these are six inches out of the ground. 
 Carrots and early cabbages are fully grown and exposed for 
 sale. We visited one grapery, where the Black Hamburg vines 
 were forty years old and in good bearing, the grapes being 
 about the size of peas. The vines were set in the borders of 
 the greenhouse, which were two and a half feet wide, and the 
 vines were three and a half feet apart, — the stocks, or trunks, 
 being not more than an inch and a half in diameter. On the 
 outside of a small conservatory was a fine heliotrope, one and a 
 half inches in diameter, nine years old, which had often been 
 well pruned and was in profuse bloom. 
 
 The town has a population of 22,730, and is very pleasantly 
 situated on the River Leam, a tributary of the Avon, and is one 
 of the handsomest towns in England, and more American in 
 appearance than any other place we saw on our journey. The 
 spring waters are saline, sulphurous, and chalybeate. They came 
 into use in 1797, and are visited constantly by the elite of the 
 land. 
 
 KENILWORTH. 
 
 " Kenilworth Castle ! " says the reader. That and more ! The 
 station is reached by a half-hour's ride from Leamington, being 
 about five miles in a direct line from .Stratford, Leamington, and 
 Coventry. The country is hilly and abounds with fertile fields, 
 on which are grazing sheep, cows, and horses in countless num- 
 Everything has an inhabited look. Elms, oaks, horse- 
 chestnuts, and poplars abound. There are fine groves that 
 might be called woods. The town itself is a small one of 4,250 
 inhabitants. It has manufat tuns of ribbons, gauzes, combs, and 
 chemicals, and is a market-town, to whose public square the
 
 176 ENGLAND. 
 
 farmers bring their produce, while traders, from temporary 
 stands, offer for sale all kinds of wares. For centuries these 
 market-days have been a part of the weekly life of the people. 
 
 There is a very ancient church, and the ruins of an abbey, 
 founded in 1122 ; but the great object of interest is the ruins of 
 its celebrated castle, made so familiar by Sir Walter Scott's 
 romance. The spot was reached by a pleasant walk of about a 
 mile from the station. When we had passed through a well 
 shaded country road, — through the woods, as we should say in 
 America, — there was presented to view a most enchanting scene. 
 Ahead of us, say five minutes' walk, our road seemed to terminate 
 in a gently rising plain, a miniature common, on which were three 
 or four stone residences, partly public and partly private in 
 appearance. The scene reminded us of a New England 
 common. 
 
 To the left, bounding the road, was a stone wall ; from this, 
 gently sloping, for perhaps two hundred feet, was a grazing 
 pasture. At the upper end of this were the ruins, not of the castle 
 proper, but of some of its outbuildings. These massive and 
 ivy-dressed ruins alone would have satisfied us, and we mistook 
 them for the castle itself, but we went up to the little plateau, and 
 round to the left hand, to get admission to the grounds ; for we 
 were now somewhat educated on the ruins question, and believed 
 there was more in waiting for us. Lads and lasses, and some very 
 old women, offered their services and guide-books. They told 
 their story well, but we told ours better. We found the gate- 
 way, paid our shillings, and decided to be our own guides. 
 
 First, there was a flower garden, — centuries ago cultivated as 
 now, but then only for the inmates of the castle. Here was also 
 a museum, containing many articles once used in the castle. 
 We did not get up enthusiasm enough to go in ; and now 
 content ourselves by saying, " Where ignorance is bliss, ' t is 
 folly to be wise." Beyond another gate, we find ourselves in a 
 closely cropped sheep-pasture. No lawn in our Boston suburbs 
 equals this carpet of green, acres in extent. To our left, five 
 hundred feet away, were the ruins observed before. We don't 
 discount this beauty even now, and we never will. Put those 
 ruins in Brookline or Brighton, and we 'd stand our ground even 
 with Englishmen. But what shall we say about the ruins of the 
 castle itself, — there on our right, two hundred feet away ? 
 
 This is Caesar's Tower. Square in plan, the surface is broken 
 with piers and vertical projections of varying width ; the top is 
 perhaps sixty feet from the ground, and made irregular by its
 
 KENILWORTH. 177 
 
 decay. It is roofless, of course, and has walls sixteen feet thick 
 at the bottom ; half the surface is covered with dark-leaved ivy, 
 precisely such as is grown in our houses. We go nearer ; now 
 on our right, two hundred feet on our front, and left, leaving a 
 half enclosed square, are other portions of this great castle. 
 What variety of outline ! What solidity ! There are patches of 
 ivy fifty feet square. Measuring a single trunk, conformed to 
 the crevices of the wall, we found it to be 3 feet 10 inches wide, 
 and 16 inches thick at the centre, decreasing to a thickness of 
 3 inches at the edges. We should have been unable to believe 
 this story, had it been told by others, and will not find fault with 
 any one who now doubts our accuracy. 
 
 The castle was founded by Geoffrey de Clinton, treasurer to 
 Henry I.; and in 1286 it was the place of a great chivalric 
 meeting, at which it is said, " silks were worn for the first time 
 in England." The very gorgeous entertainment given here in 
 1575, to Queen Elizabeth, is immortalized by Scott in " Kenil- 
 worth." Of the original castle, all now remaining is the corner 
 tower. All else, though to all appearances as old looking, is of 
 later date. The hall erected by John of Gaunt, who died Feb. 
 3, 1399, is 86 feet long and 45 wide, having mullioned win- 
 dows on each side, and large fireplaces at each end. 
 
 The domain passed to the crown, and was bestowed by Henry 
 III., who died Nov. 16, 1272, on Simon de Montfort, Earl of 
 Leicester. When he was defeated and killed, his adherents 
 held it for six months, but at length made favorable terms of 
 capitulation. Edward II., who was murdered Sept. 21, 1327, 
 was a prisoner in it for some time. It next fell into the hands 
 of Edward III., who died June 21, 1377. Then it fell to John 
 of Gaunt, who died twenty-two years afterwards, when it passed 
 to his son, Henry Bolingbroke (Henry IV.) ; and on his acces- 
 sion to the throne, Sept. 30, 1399, it became again vested in the 
 <rown, and so remained until Queen Elizabeth bestowed it on 
 her favorite Dudley, Earl of Leicester. She visited it three 
 times, the last visit being so graphically described by Sir Walter. 
 It was dismantled and unroofed in the time of Cromwell, and 
 has never been repaired. At the Restoration it fell to the 
 Clarenden family, and is now the property of the family of 
 Eanllcy-W'ilmot. 
 
 The ruin is more stately than most others, and was built 
 on a grander scale. There is no particle of wood about it ; 
 all is enduring masonry. The floors arc like its lawns, over- 
 grown with beautiful grass, interspersed with wild flowers.
 
 178 ENGLAND. 
 
 Birds build their nests in the crevices ; ivy hangs over it like 
 a careless mantle. 
 
 The residence of kings and queens, of the bluest blood of 
 the land, and for a period of four hundred years, — could 
 the old walls speak, what tales would they tell ! Intrigues, 
 amours, sorrows, intenser than the peasant ever dreamed of. 
 The rise and fall of dynasties, the advancing and receding of 
 the waves of national life, were felt most definitely here, and 
 full four centuries were employed in the record. 
 
 A home, a prison, the Elizabethan house of love, — it is to- 
 day a marvellous curiosity-shop for the civilized world. Where 
 young royalty prattled and crept, the speckled reptile, with 
 " a precious jewel in its head," leaps and the snail crawls. The 
 curtain of two centuries drops its thick folds between our age 
 and Kenilworth's royal activity. 
 
 COVENTRY. 
 
 We arrived here at 2.45 p. m. May 28, after a short ride from 
 Kenilworth. Few places in England are better known in history 
 than this quaint old town. It is situated on the River Sher- 
 bourne, and has a population of 39,470. The town derives 
 its name from a Benedictine Priory, founded in 1044 by Leofric, 
 Lord of Mercia, and his Lady Godiva. The cellar of the 
 old institution still exists, 115 feet long and 15 feet wide. 
 No place affords a better example of an old English town than 
 Coventry. In one section little if any change has been made, 
 and here are timber-and-plaster houses, in streets so narrow that 
 the projecting upper stories are but a few feet apart. 
 
 There are three churches, all with high towers and spires ; 
 and they are so located as to form an apparent triangle when 
 seen from almost any point of view, and are seemingly an eighth 
 of a mile apart. The steeple of St. Michael's is 363 feet high, 
 and Trinity is 237 feet. They are of Gothic architecture, and 
 two of them elaborately finished. There is a free school, founded 
 in the time of Henry VIII. ; and St. Mary's Hall was built in 
 the fifteenth century. It is 60 feet long, 30 feet wide, and 34 
 feet high, with a curiously carved oak ceiling, and has a splendid 
 colored window. It was built by Trinity Guild, and is now used 
 for public meetings. As long ago as the fifteenth century an active 
 trade was carried on in caps, bonnets, and camlet-cloth. These 
 have given place to silks, fringes, and watches, more of the latter 
 being made here than in London. Coventry was anciently de-
 
 COVENTRY. 179 
 
 fended by walls and towers ; but only a small portion of the 
 former and three of the latter remain, the others having been 
 destroyed by Charles II., on account of the favors shown by the 
 citizens to his enemies. Twelve parliaments were held here, 
 which shows the ancient repute of the place. The people were 
 noted for their love of shows and processions. Religious 
 dramas, called mysteries, were performed here as early as 141 6, 
 and often in the presence of royalty. Until the present century, 
 an annual pageant honored the memory of Lady Godiva, and is 
 even now occasionally revived. The story is, that she obtained 
 from her husband, Leofric, the remission of certain heavy taxes, 
 of which the citizens complained, on condition that she should 
 ride naked through the streets at noonday. She ordered the 
 people to keep within doors, and to close their shutters ; and 
 then, veiled by her long flowing hair, she mounted her palfrey, 
 and rode through the town unseen, — except by an inquisitive 
 tailor. He has been immortalized under the sobriquet of 
 Peeping Tom, and it is said that he was punished by instant 
 blindness. This is the story on which Tennyson founded his 
 poem. It was first recorded by Matthew of Westminster, in 1307, 
 two hundred and fifty years after its supposed occurrence. When 
 the pageant takes place now, a strikingly clad female is the lead- 
 ing character. There is a bust of Peeping Tom at the junction of 
 two streets, the angle of which is rounded, three stories high, and 
 painted drab. From an upper-story window, without a sash, 
 the figure of Tom leans out in an inquisitive attitude. He is 
 painted in the various colors of flesh and clothes, appears to be 
 about forty years old, and wears a sort of military cap and coat. 
 He has peeped out on the main street for centuries, the observed 
 of all observers. The spot is said to be the one from which the 
 original Tom was so rash as to look. We believe he is yet a source 
 of revenue to the stores in the neighborhood, for there are often 
 groups of strangers in the vicinity. To catch a share of the 
 traffic, there are other Peeping Toms. In the venturesome spirit 
 of the veritable Tom, some of these imitations are proclaimed, 
 in painted placards, to -be the great original, — " original in that 
 place ! " somebody said ! 
 
 At 9 a. m. of Wednesday we left for 
 
 BIRMINGHAM, 
 
 where we arrived at 1 1 o'clock, and found the place, as we had 
 antif ipated, very smoky in atmosphere, and largely inhabited by
 
 180 ENGLAND. 
 
 poor working-people. High taxes, lack of education, and hard 
 usage keep the people down. The public buildings and stores 
 are spacious, but our surroundings were uncomfortable and we 
 made but a three hours' stay. 
 
 Birmingham is a city of immense manufactures, and may well 
 be considered the great workshop of England. Here John Bull 
 everywhere has on his workshop paper cap, and shows the 
 brawniest of brawny arms, and the smuttiest of smutty faces. 
 A Birmingham dry-goods clerk, by reason of the smoky atmo- 
 sphere, is about as untidy as an average American mechanic. 
 
 The city lies on ground sloping to the River Rhea, and canals 
 radiate to several railroads. It has three parks : Adderly. tri- 
 angular in shape, opened in 1856 ; Calthorpe, near the river, in 
 1857; and Ashton, in 1858. The older portions are on low 
 grounds. The Town Hall is of Anglesea marble, 160 feet long, 
 100 feet wide, and 83 feet high, and is of Corinthian architec- 
 ture, in imitation of the temple of Jupiter Stator at Rome. The 
 public hall is 145 feet long, 65 feet wide, and 65 feet high, — 
 that is, 30 feet longer than Boston Music Hall, 15 feet narrower, 
 and of the same height. The organ is one of the most power- 
 ful in Europe, and has 78 stops. 
 
 The old church of St. Martin has a massive tower, and a spire 
 210 feet high. This church contains monuments of the De 
 Berminghams, the ancient lords of the place. It has 343,696 
 inhabitants, is first mentioned in Doomsday Book under the 
 name of Bermingeham, and remained an obscure village for 
 centuries. 
 
 Its first impetus towards manufactures was given at the close 
 of the last century, by the introduction of the steam-engine, — 
 especially by the demand for muskets created by the American 
 Revolution and the French wars. There are many large facto- 
 ries, but more than elsewhere is it customary for persons of 
 limited means to carry on manufactures on a small scale. They 
 generally employ men to work by the piece and at home ; or, 
 where steam is required, they hire rooms furnished with the 
 requisite power. 
 
 In 1865 there were 724 steam-engines in the place, with 
 9,910 horse-power. There were 1,013 smelting and casting 
 furnaces, and 20,000 families were engaged in manufactures. 
 The value of hardware and cutlery exported in 1864 was 
 #20,000,000. There were also exports of firearms, glass, leather, 
 machinery, iron and steel wire, plate, copper, brass, zinc, tin, 
 and coal, to the amount of #185,000,000. History says that
 
 LICHFIELD. 181 
 
 5,000,000 firearms were furnished during the Napoleonic wars ; 
 and during the first two years of the Civil War in America, 
 1,027,336 were exported to the United States. 30,000 wed- 
 ding rings have in a single year passed through the assay 
 office. This city is noted for its steel pens. At the Gillott estab- 
 lishment 500 workmen are employed, and 1,000,000 gross are 
 produced annually. The whole number of pens made in the 
 city is 9,000,000 annually, and 500 tons of steel are consumed 
 in their manufacture. Every kind of manufacture in metals is 
 carried on here, and to name the items would bewilder us. 
 Birmingham is the workshop of Great Britain, and we may say 
 of the world, for no other place approaches it in the extent and 
 variety of metallic work. Our next move was for 
 
 LICHFIELD. 
 
 We reached it after an hour's ride from Birmingham, arriv- 
 ing at 3 p. m. Valises deposited at a very homelike chateau, 
 not far from the station, we were out for sights. Through a 
 couple of short and narrow streets, where the brick buildings 
 were painted in light colors, we passed into an opening dignified 
 by the name of Square, measuring perhaps a hundred feet on 
 each side. On the right-hand corner is an ancient Gothic 
 church. On our left, making another corner, is the house in 
 which, on the 18th of September, 1709, was born Samuel John- 
 son, the great lexicographer, son of " Michael Johnson, book- 
 seller and stationer, sometime magistrate of Lichfield," and who 
 died, leaving his family in poverty. The house is three stories in 
 height, with a hipped roof. It has nothing striking about it, and 
 is forty feet or so square, of stone or brick, plastered on the out- 
 side, and painted cream-color. In the youth of Johnson, it 
 contained a store, but has long since been remodelled, and the 
 store is now the common room of the dwelling-house. The houses 
 about it are closely built ; no yard, garden, or tree is in sight. 
 
 In front, in the centre of the square, is a statue of Johnson, on 
 a pedestal much too high. The statue is in a sitting posture, 
 and looks too young for a man who did not come into public 
 notoriety until much beyond the age represented by this sculp- 
 ture. The unpretentious birthplace is more interesting than the 
 monument. These streets, through which he so main times 
 walked, — the church in which he so many times attended wor- 
 ship, and in which he was baptized, these were too real not 
 to make their impression. We could see the scrofulous boy of
 
 182 ENGLAND. 
 
 ten years, with his disfigured face and injured sight and hearing, 
 his education already begun, and he a student of Latin at the 
 Lichfield free school. He was five years there, then one at 
 Stourbridge ; and at the age of sixteen desired to enter Oxford, 
 but was prevented by poverty. Going as assistant to one more 
 fortunate in worldly affairs than himself, at length, in 1728, he 
 was admitted to Pembroke, where, the record says, " he was dis- 
 orderly, but not vicious." He died in London, Dec. 13, 1784. 
 What incidents and great events go to make up his history for 
 those intervening years ! Wherever the English language is 
 spoken it is influenced by his labors. 
 
 Not much antiquity is anywhere apparent in Lichfield. Take 
 Johnson and the cathedral away, and there would be nothing of 
 moment, for it has little business. 
 
 We soon arrive in the vicinity of the cathedral, and the scene 
 changes as by magic. 
 
 The cathedral, with its centre and two western towers and 
 spires, is of vast length and good height, built of a very red 
 sandstone. It is about an eighth of a mile off, and well embow- 
 ered with trees, with the river between us and them. The lower 
 portions of the cathedral are hid from view. To the left, and 
 not as far up, is another group of buildings, among them the 
 Lichfield Museum. 
 
 On the second floor we find the place in charge of a matronly 
 lady, who is at home in her work, and admirably fitted for the 
 position. We look at old armor, at pictures, and relics " brought 
 over the sea and from foreign parts," but better remains behind. 
 In a glass case are exhibited things once owned and handled 
 by the great writer who, next to the cathedral, gives Lichfield its 
 interest and renown. Here are his silver shoe-buckles, the blue 
 and white pint-mug from which he drank, the favorite saucer 
 on which his wife Tetty used to put his morning breakfast bis- 
 cuit ; and here also are letters written by him. This was one 
 of the especial treats of our tour. 
 
 We found the great cathedral in perfect repair. A small close 
 surrounds it. with lawns, trees, and rooks. After a general look 
 at it we take a turn along the river, and off to the rear and right 
 of the cathedral, to walk around the promenade enclosing, like 
 Chestnut Hill, the city reservoir. 
 
 Encircling the water, we come upon an exquisite little Gothic 
 church and burial-ground. The area of the reservoir and its 
 avenues is perhaps fifty acres, — the size of Boston Common, 
 — and as one stands on the rear avenue, facing the town, the
 
 LICHFIELD. 183 
 
 scene is most enchanting. The place is surrounded by a mixed 
 landscape, in which fine trees abound ; at the extreme left is 
 the village, seen partially through the trees. On the right is the 
 cathedral, nearly hid by the trees. Along the entire line are 
 fields, gardens, and mansion-houses ; and, behind all, are high 
 lands, extending towards us, and around back of the little gem of 
 a church. Behind us are aristocratic residences with intensely 
 rural surroundings. On to our left, and behind, is the venerable 
 St. John's Church, whose bell is plaintively tolling for evening 
 prayers. From this to the town are brick buildings, and homes 
 with their little gardens. When other scenes are forgotten, this 
 evening in Lichfield will be as charming as now. Johnson would 
 have been even more uncouth, but for the good influence of 
 scenes like this ; and his early removal hence deprived him 
 of visions of daily and educating beauty. 
 
 In these churches — in St. Michael's near his home • — he 
 worshipped, and seeds were planted which in after life bore their 
 pious fruit. He was not wholly rough in nature, nor entirely given 
 to a love of literary gossip and coffee-house ease. Not solely 
 inclined to entertainment by Garrick or Boswell, he loved the 
 clergy as well, for he was a deeply religious man in his own way. 
 
 The cathedral is 400 feet long, 187 feet wide at the transepts, 
 and has three spires, — the central 353 feet high, and the others, 
 at the west end, 183 feet each. The western front is the best 
 in England. No cathedral suffered more, in the destruction of 
 its monuments at the time of the Reformation, than this. With 
 the exception of the stone effigies of two prelates, and a few 
 others of less importance, all were destroyed. There are, how- 
 ever, monuments of later date. One of the most noted is that 
 to Lady Mary Wortley Montague, — a figure in marble, with an 
 inscription recording her agency in introducing into England 
 inoculation for smallpox. She was a native of Lichfield, and 
 Dr. Smollett says : " Her letters will be an important monument 
 to her memory, and will show, as long as the English language 
 endures, the sprightliness of her wit, the solidity of her judgment, 
 and the excellence of her real character." 
 
 The bust of I)r. Johnson was placed in the cathedral, as the 
 ins ription states, as "a tribute of respect to the memory of a 
 man of extensive learning, a distinguished moral writer, and 
 a sincere Christian." Niear by is a cenotaph erected by Mrs. 
 Garrick to the memory of her husband, the eminent dramatist 
 ami a< tor, who was the pupil and friend of Johnson, and died at 
 London, Jan. 20, 1779.
 
 184 ENGLAND. 
 
 The bishops of this cathedral have been men of especial note. 
 Among them may be named Bishop Schrope, who was trans- 
 lated from this See to that of York, and was celebrated for his 
 resistance to the usurpations of Henry IV., in consequence 
 of which he was beheaded in 1405, and was long revered as a 
 martyr. 
 
 Rowland Lee was appointed bishop of Lichfield in 1534. 
 He solemnized the marriage of Henry VIII. with Anne Boleyn, 
 in the nunnery of Sopewell, near St. Alban's. During the estab- 
 lishment of the reformed religion he was mortified to see his 
 cathedral at Coventry entirely destroyed, notwithstanding his 
 earnest endeavors to save it. 
 
 Ralph Bayne was one of the foremost persecutors of Queen 
 Mary's reign, and caused women to be burnt at the stake. On 
 the accession of Elizabeth to the throne, he refused to adminis- 
 ter the sacrament to her, for which refusal an act of parliament 
 deprived him of his See. 
 
 William Lloyd was one of the seven bishops committed to the 
 Tower by James II., for refusing to read the Declaration of 
 Liberty of Conscience, as it was called ; although the real in- 
 tention of it was to undermine the Protestant religion, and to set 
 up popery again in its place. 
 
 John Hough, who was made bishop of this See in 1699, was, 
 at the time of the Reformation, Master of Magdalen College at 
 Oxford, and in like manner resisted the royal order. He was 
 elected head of the college against the king's will, and so was 
 forcibly ejected by the commissioners ; but he was restored the 
 next year. 
 
 One of the most memorable of all the bishops is Hackett, 
 who came here in 1661. It was he who did so much in the 
 way of restorations, after the destructive work of Cromwell, who 
 dealt roughly with the Lichfield Cathedral. All churches, as well 
 as abbeys, monasteries, and priories, were Roman Catholic insti- 
 tutions, and they suffered greatly in the suppression of papal 
 worship. Statuary was destroyed, no matter what its value. 
 Pictures and frescoes were defaced, altars torn down, and every- 
 thing reduced to Cromwell's ideas of a Protestant level. This 
 involved the destruction of a vast number of shrines and monu- 
 ments, those of bishops and prelates suffering especial desecra- 
 tion. The iconoclasm was thorough. . Roofs were taken off, 
 buildings dismantled, and their rebuilding or occupancy prohib- 
 ited under severe penalties. This accounts for the many fine 
 ruins in Great Britain ; Melrose Abbey, Furness Abbey, and
 
 LICHFIELD. 185 
 
 a thousand others, are now in decay in consequence of these 
 desecrations. 
 
 We deplore the loss of works of art and antiquity, but we 
 must not judge from a nineteenth-century and American stand- 
 point. Had papist institutions been left where for centuries 
 they had been entrenched, Protestantism could have made little 
 headway. People of low intellect, with its accompanying igno- 
 rance and superstition, are best reached through the senses. 
 Pageants, images, pictures, devout genuflections, were powerful 
 then as now. The authorities of the Roman Church knew this 
 as they now know it. The new Protestant government of Eng- 
 land realized that these religious emblems were great obstacles 
 in its way, and was uncompromising in their extermination. The 
 next generation, coming up under a new administration, was 
 more tractable. This was unavoidable, if the rulers would pre- 
 vent friction in the new machinery. Let us not speak ill of the 
 bridge that carried freedom and toleration safely over. 
 
 This cathedral was for various causes an object of hostility. 
 The adjacent green was fortified, and was alternately in posses- 
 sion of each party ; and of course the cathedral suffered the 
 injuries of a constant siege. History has it that two thousand 
 cannon-shot and fifteen hundred hand-grenades were discharged 
 against it. The central spire was battered down, and the others 
 shared nearly the same fate. The statuary of the west front, 
 around these towers, was shattered ; the painted windows were 
 broken ; the monuments were mutilated ; and the mural stones 
 were stripped of their brasses. Dugdale says : — 
 
 It was greatly profaned by Cromwell's soldiers, who hunted a cat 
 everyday in it with hounds, and delighted themselves with the echo 
 of their sport along the vaulted roofs. Nor was this all; they pro- 
 faned it still further by bringing a calf into it, wrapt in linen, 
 which they carried to the font, and there sprinkled it with water, 
 and gave it a name in scorn and derision of the holy sacrament. 
 
 When Bishop Hackett was appointed to the See in 1661 he 
 found the cathedral in this hopeless confusion ; but. in spite of 
 such discouraging conditions, on the very morning after his 
 arrival he prepared for improvements. With laudable zeal he 
 'I his servants early, set his coach-horses, with trams and 
 laborers, to removing the rubbish, and himself laid the first hand 
 to the work. A subscription soon amounted to $45,000, of 
 which the bishop contributed $10,000. The dean and chapter- 
 contributed a like sum; and the remainder was raised by the
 
 186 ENGLAND. 
 
 bishop, who solicited aid from every nobleman and gentleman 
 in the diocese, and of almost every stranger who visited the 
 cathedral. He obtained from Charles II. a grant of one hun- 
 dred timber- trees out of Needwood Forest, and in eight years 
 saw his cathedral perfectly restored. With joy and great solem- 
 nity it was re-consecrated Dec. 24, 1669. 
 
 The next year Bishop Hackett contracted for six bells, only 
 one of which was hung in his lifetime. His biographer Plume 
 says : — 
 
 During his last illness he went out of his bed-chamber into the 
 next room to hear it ; seemed well pleased with the sound, blessed 
 God who had favored him in life to hear it, and observed at the 
 same time that it was his "own passing-bell." He then retired to 
 his chamber, and never left it again till he was carried to his grave. 
 
 That bell still sounds from the tower. The same decorations 
 present themselves, and by these the good bishop yet speaketh. 
 Unfortunate are the visitors who, amid scenes and sounds like 
 these, having eyes, see not, and having ears, do not hear. 
 
 The war history of one cathedral is the history of all, for each 
 was desecrated, and each has had* some Bishop Hackett ; though 
 not every restorer was as capable as he in purse and brain. 
 Restorations were everywhere begun, and in many instances the 
 new work exceeded the old ; but superstition and ignorance 
 were common even among the high clergy, and oppression ac- 
 companied their daily life, as it did that of our New England 
 ancestry. 
 
 At 10.20 a. m. of Thursday, May 30, we left for that peculiarly 
 named town, Stoke-upon-Trent.
 
 STOKE-UPON-TRENT. 187 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 STOKE-UPON-TRENT — STAFFORDSHIRE — MANCHESTER — 
 LEEDS CARLISLE. 
 
 WE arrived at Stoke-upon-Trent at noon. Our valises 
 deposited at the coat-room of the station, we sallied 
 out for a restaurant dinner and a visit to the pottery 
 of the Mintons. There are many places of crockery manufac- 
 ture here, all having a dingy look ; most of them are of brick 
 or stone, and two or three stories high. The buildings are not 
 large, but each establishment has several, with chimneys forty 
 to sixty feet high, tapering largely as they rise. The great- 
 est facilities are furnished for visiting the works. We greatly 
 enjoyed our visit, and theoretically know just how it is done ; 
 yet we could n't excel practically the youngest apprentice. It 
 is hardly in order to give lessons, but some information may be 
 worth a passing word. 
 
 The clay is uncommon and found in but few places. It has 
 also to be peculiarly prepared. When ready to be moulded 
 it looks very much like putty or wheaten dough. The dish 
 is made in the usual manner, on the potter's wheel, or on a 
 mould. It is partially dried and then baked in a great oven, 
 from which it comes out white as chalk. If it is to be white and 
 undecorated, it is then dipped into a tank of liquid sizing, in 
 appearance like dirty milk. It drips off, and is then put again 
 into an oven and subjected to intense heat. The sizing melts 
 or vitrifies, and turns into glazing. The oven cools off slowly, 
 and the ware is taken out glossy and ready for sale. 
 
 If the dish is to be ornamented, the figures are put on with 
 a stencil-plate, or printed on the white ware after the first baking 
 and before the glazing. Of course any desired color can be 
 rubbed over the stencil. If the ware is to be printed, this is 
 done with a soft roller, whi< h takes its tint and impression from 
 ip. This roller is passed over the stamp as a similar arti- 
 cle is rolled over printcr'.s type ; only the figure is imprinted on
 
 188 ENGLAND. 
 
 the pottery, not with the stamp or type itself, but with the roller, 
 from whose soft surface the figure is readily absorbed by the 
 moist clay. After this the ware is dipped into sizing and finished 
 as before described. If the ware is to be rudely ornamented 
 with flowers, these are often painted on it by hand, after the first 
 baking, women and girls being employed for the purpose. Of 
 course glazing and burning must always follow the decoration. 
 If colored stripes are desired, these also are put on by hand. If 
 ware is to be elegantly adorned, with pictures of flowers, ani- 
 mals, or landscapes, — in a word, Sevres or Worcester ware, — this 
 also is done by the patient hand-labor at the benches. A hun- 
 dred women are sometimes at work in a single room, as if they 
 were making water-color drawings. If gold lines are to be put 
 on, this is done with gold paint. It is black when it comes from 
 the furnace, but is then rubbed down with cornelian burnishers 
 and the gold color restored. China is no more nor less than 
 thin ware made of a peculiar clay. Of the secrets of coloring 
 we know nothing. Hundreds of years have been employed in 
 experimenting on the minor details ; and with all their generous 
 entertainment of strangers, and perhaps of angels unawares, — 
 not being sure the visitor is not a fallen one, and so inclined to 
 abuse the information, — the artisans are not free to impart 
 information which seems small, but is really of the utmost 
 importance. 
 
 The town is situated on the River Trent, as its name implies, 
 and the entire parish, including Stanley and many other suburbs, 
 has a population of 89,262. It has numerous wharves and 
 warehouses, and is intersected by the great Trent canal and the 
 Staffordshire railway. It has the honor of being the birth- 
 place of Rev. John Lightfoot, the celebrated ecclesiastical 
 writer and Hebrew scholar. He was born here March 29, 
 1602, and died at Ely, where he was prebend at the cathedral, 
 Dec. 6, 1675. r i' ne town receives its notoriety solely from its 
 potteries. 
 
 Our second visit was to the warerooms of Minturn & Hollins, 
 who are celebrated, as are the original Minturns, for the elegance 
 of their work, which is well known in America as well as Europe. 
 Their display was wonderful for fineness of execution and exqui- 
 site coloring. 
 
 Our notebook, as well as our vivid recollection, defines it as 
 " an inexpressibly smoky place, with hundred of chimneys, in 
 groups of from ten to twenty, belching forth thick and black 
 smoke."
 
 STAFFORDSHIRE. 189 
 
 At 4 p. M. we took a train for another great workshop, and on 
 our way must needs go through, not Samaria, but Staffordshire, 
 which is one of the best examples of a smoke district; and — 
 like Niagara in this — that one is enough for a world. 
 
 STAFFORDSHIRE. 
 
 In this region the smelting and manufacture of iron abounds. 
 Hundreds of chimneys, large and small, single and in groups, 
 begin to meet the view as soon as we are fairly out of Stoke 
 Village. Everywhere the air is permeated with dense though 
 by no means very disagreeable smoke ; that is, it did not pro- 
 duce half the ill effect on the eyes or the body that it did on the 
 shirt bosoms and the mind. 
 
 The vast extent of the domain astonished us. As we merged 
 into the thicker part, the sun was entirely obscured, the people 
 were weird-like, and all things wore a smoky aspect. Condensed 
 masses of smoke hung like thunder-clouds, and they were lighted 
 up by the glare that issued Pandemonium-like from a hundred 
 chimney-tops. In the dimness below, the men at the blast- 
 furnaces, handling red-hot rods, or pouring molten iron into 
 moulds, seemed like so many imps, and we had a vivid repre- 
 sentation of the other place, that was talked of a hundred years 
 ago. We were glad of the experience, for it was unlike any- 
 thing seen before, or likely to be seen again ; but how we 
 enjoyed a change to clear atmosphere and a blue sky, and how 
 increased was our ability to enjoy the 
 
 " Sweet fields of living green, 
 And rivers of delight," 
 
 by which the swift train presently hustled us ! 
 
 We need not say that bituminous and not anthracite coal is 
 used in England. It burns with a brilliant red flame, and its 
 smoke is either black, gray, or white. It is found in great pro- 
 fusion (as hard coal is in our Pennsylvania) in the same regions 
 with iron ore. 
 
 It is as common to see coal-mine openings — their cheap 
 houses over them, and their railways, — as to see iron mines. 
 No manufacturing region would seem complete without them. 
 It is providential that these two useful minerals, coal and iron, 
 are found together, and so conveniently near the geographical
 
 190 ENGLAND. 
 
 centre of Great Britain as to make them accessible to each 
 section of the island. 
 
 We are at our journey's end, in 
 
 MANCHESTER, 
 
 after the ride of less than two hours. It was not our intention 
 to remain here long, and our first view of the place confirmed 
 the wisdom of our decision. It is a large city, smoky from the 
 thousands of manufactories, with nothing antique to be seen. 
 Our older western cities, like Cincinnati, much resemble Man- 
 chester. Our stay was occupied principally with an observant 
 walk of some miles through the principal avenues and among 
 the manufactories. There are grand buildings, but the general 
 smoky outlook prevails. Manchester is situated on both sides 
 of the River Irwell, and has a suburb called Salford. The city 
 proper has a population of 351,189, and the latter 124,801, — 
 475,990 in all. There are two municipal governments, but the 
 two cities are practically one, being united by eight bridges. 
 
 This spot was a chief station of the Druids, who here had an 
 altar called Meyne. In a. d. 500 it was an unfrequented wood- 
 land. In 620 it was taken by Edwin, king of Northumbria, and 
 soon after was occupied by a company of Angles. It next 
 passed to the Danes, who were expelled about 920, by the king 
 of Mercia. A charter, giving it the privilege of a borough, was 
 granted in 1301. 
 
 The first mention of Manchester cotton was in 1352, and 
 designated coarse woollen cloth, made from unprepared fleece. 
 At the time of the Civil Wars it had become a place of active 
 industry, and suffered much from both parties. In 1650 its 
 manufactures had wonderfully increased, and ranked among the 
 first in extent and importance ; and its people were described as 
 the most industrious in the northern part of the kingdom. 
 
 The value of cotton exports, as early as 1 780, was $1,775,300 ; 
 in 1856 it was $190,000,000; and in 1862 more than one half 
 the operatives were thrown out of employment in consequence 
 of the American Civil War, which deprived Manchester of the 
 raw material. In 1871 there were connected with the cotton 
 and woollen manufactures 322 factories, employing 33,671 per- 
 sons, and using 21,000 horse-power of steam. In the manufac- 
 ture of metal goods, glass, chemicals, and leather, there were 467 
 manufactories, 14,895 work-people, and 3,996 horse-power. The
 
 LEEDS. 191 
 
 mechanical list, including builders, and cabinet-makers, involved 
 2,783 shops and 73,235 employees, using 28,515 horse-power. 
 
 The Royal Exchange, commenced in 1868 and just com- 
 pleted, is one of the finest structures in Great Britain, costing 
 $1,250,000. Hospitals and charitable institutions are plentiful. 
 The schools are of a high grade, and the city is one of the most 
 enterprising in England. 
 
 At 10.20 a. m., Friday, we left for Leeds. These three places, 
 Birmingham, Manchester, and Leeds, are an epitome of English 
 manufactures, and we can hardly pass without examining them, 
 though we confess to a daintiness obtained from the beauties 
 amidst which we had been passing the weeks ; and we feel that 
 we shall be glad when our tour through the manufacturing dis- 
 tricts ends, for we are impressed anew with the proverb, " God 
 made the country, but man made the town." 
 
 LEEDS 
 
 is situated on both sides, but chiefly on the left side, of the River 
 Aire, and has a population of 259,212. The site was once a 
 Roman station, and the mediaeval name was Loidis. As a man- 
 ufacturing town it dates back to the sixteenth century. The 
 larger part of the city has an old look. The streets generally 
 are narrow and crooked, but well kept. The new streets are 
 wide and contain many fine buildings ; and the tramways and 
 omnibuses give it a Bostonian appearance. The spacious town- 
 hall was completed in 1858. Like all the principal English 
 cities, it has its share of statues, and a fine one of Robert 
 Peel is in front of the court-house. It is said to have 225 
 places of public worship. In woollen manufactures and leather- 
 tanning Leeds surpasses all other places in the kingdom. 1 2,000 
 persons are employed in manufacturing woollen goods alone. 
 The city is a railroad centre. There are 200 collieries in the 
 surrounding district. It is reported that one quarter of the in- 
 habitants are engaged in manufactures of some kind, and yel 
 pauperism flourishes fearfully. There is a library founded in 
 1768, by the renowned Dr. Priestley, of scientific as well as 
 theologic fame. He was pastor of a church in Leeds, and gave 
 much attention to religious subjects. After an industrious life 
 of some years here, — a large portion of which was employed in 
 scientific pursuits and authorship, — he removed to Binning* 
 ham, and was pastor of a « burch there. At length he went to 
 America, arriving in New York, June 4, 1794, and dying at
 
 192 ENGLAND. 
 
 Northumberland, Pa., Feb. 6, 1804. A celebration, in honor 
 of his discovery of oxygen, was inaugurated by American chem- 
 ists at the place of his death, Aug. 1, 1874, and on the same day 
 his statue was unveiled in Birmingham, England. In i860 an- 
 other statue was placed in the museum of Oxford University. 
 A catalogue of his publications, prepared for the library of Con- 
 gress, for the Centennial of 1876, comprises more than three 
 hundred works on chemistry, history, theology, metaphysics, 
 politics, and other subjects. 
 
 The markets of Leeds are large. New potatoes, May 31, were 
 for sale, smaller than English walnuts. The fish markets are 
 supplied with more varieties than we have seen anywhere else. 
 The flower marts have great displays of perfect plants, especially 
 pelargoniums and geraniums. 
 
 Kirkstall Abbey is about three miles away, on the edge of the 
 city. Nothing can excel the beauty of this ancient place. It 
 is situated near a country road, and slopes to the river a distance 
 of perhaps a thousand feet. The walls are varied in outlines and 
 heights. The tower and walls are quite complete, and the ad- 
 joining ruins are as fine as any in England. They comprise 
 many rooms, roofless for centuries. The low-cropped grass, 
 with its thick math, fills them, and there are ten or twelve elm- 
 trees, full two feet in diameter, growing in the deserted apart- 
 ments. In one part is the small enclosed garden, perfect as at 
 the first. In the walls are places of burial of the pietists who 
 once dwelt here ; and on one side are rooms, opening into the 
 garden, that once were monks' cells and their later place of 
 sepulture. There are many stone coffins ; and the apartments 
 and the close, with the ivy- mantled walls, are of extreme beauty. 
 The position is remarkably fine. Removed from other habita- 
 tions ; quietly situated at the side of the great road, and on this 
 meadow-like lawn ; the river running leisurely by, washing the 
 borders ; the old trees ; its ingenuity of arrangement, — this gem 
 is a connecting link between the old dispensation and the new. 
 We could but wish we might do as Scott advises of Melrose 
 Abbey, " visit it by the pale moonlight ; " but we did not have 
 that privilege. We could only see it at the close of this fine 
 day, when the low sun sent its rays aslant the openings, and gave 
 an indescribable tranquillity to the place. 
 
 This is one of the few spots we would again make an effort 
 to see. As the lamented Bayard Taylor was lured from his 
 course of travel by Longfellow's " Belfry of Bruges," and could 
 not rest till he had been there, so this Kirkstall Abbey influ-
 
 CARLISLE. 193 
 
 ences us, and will till the end of earthly journeys. Built in 
 1 157, in the Reformation it was abandoned and unroofed, its 
 relics destroyed, its tombs rifled, and ruin begun ; and now for 
 more than three hundred years, as if subservient to the will of 
 Cromwell, and mute with alarm and solitary in its shame, it has 
 stood beautiful and enduring, though dying atom by atom in its 
 own loneliness. 
 
 On Saturday, June 1, a pleasant day, though so cool that 
 overcoats were still comfortable, we took train for 
 
 CARLISLE. 
 
 This is another cathedral town, and the last in England we 
 are to visit till we have passed through Scotland. We have 
 journeyed from London northerly to Oxford ; then, northwest- 
 erly to the manufacturing towns ; and now we are to go from 
 Carlisle to Glasgow, and we expect to see London again in a 
 couple of weeks after. The places are most of them but a few 
 hours' ride apart. The trip is quite like one from Boston, 
 through Worcester, Springfield, Albany, to our western cities, 
 and then southerly, via Washington and Philadelphia and New 
 York, to Boston, and as easily performed. We arrived at 2 p. m., 
 and were fortunate in making our visit on a market-day, when 
 the place was full of people ; for here was an opportunity to see 
 an English market-day at its best. On hundreds of tables, and 
 in stalls and booths, every conceivable kind of domestic article 
 was displayed for sale, — crockery, tinware, dry-goods (such as 
 White or Jordan & Marsh never have for sale), new and second- 
 hand clothing, hardware, provisions of all kinds ; and a happier 
 set of people we had not seen. Both buyer and seller were in 
 fine mood, and good cheer prevailed. These market-days are 
 a part of the common life of the people, and to abolish them 
 would be taken as one more sign of the near approach of the 
 final consummation of all things. 
 
 The city is situated on the River Eden, and is a grand old 
 place with good buildings and streets, all replete with fine speci- 
 mens of English people and life. It is one of the very oldest in 
 England and was a Roman station. Its proximity to the border 
 made it an important place at the time of the wars between the 
 English and the Scotch. 
 
 The cathedral is situated not far from the centre of business, 
 and the iron fence on one side of its grounds marks the bounds 
 of an important thoroughfare. The ground is not large — per- 
 
 13
 
 194 ENGLAND. 
 
 haps an acre in extent — and is well kept. The cathedral itself 
 was originally an important building, but is not now remarkable 
 for size or beauty. Cromwell destroyed the greater part of 
 the nave. The building is only 137 feet long, but it is 124 feet 
 wide at the transepts, and the height is 75 feet from floor to 
 vaultings. The parapet of the tower is 127 feet from the 
 ground. The cathedral was nearly destroyed by fire in 1292, 
 and the present choir was completed 1350. This fire is said to 
 have consumed thirteen hundred houses. The tower was built 
 in 1 40 1. The edifice was originally dedicated to the Virgin 
 Mary, but Henry VIII., after he had suppressed the priory con- 
 nected with it, named it the Church of the Holy and Undivided 
 Trinity. Up to that time it had been under the administration 
 of twenty-nine different bishops, — many of them men of note, 
 of whom it would be pleasant to speak did our limits not forbid. 
 Owen Oglethorpe, the thirtieth bishop, was noted as the only one 
 who could be prevailed upon to crown Queen Elizabeth, all others 
 having refused to do so. History says that " during the per- 
 formance of the ceremony he was commanded by the queen not 
 to elevate the host ; to prevent the idolatry of the people, and 
 to omit it because she liked it not." It is a question whether 
 he obeyed. Wood says : " He sore repented him of crowning 
 the queen all the days of his life, which were for that special 
 cause both short and wearisome." He was fined $1,250 by the 
 council for not appearing at a public disputation, and was soon 
 afterwards deprived of his office. 
 
 A worthy and well-known bishop of this cathedral was James 
 Usher, who was appointed in 1642. He was an Irishman by 
 birth, and had since 1625 been Archbishop of Armagh in Ire- 
 land. He died March 21, 1655, at the age of seventy-five, and 
 Cromwell ordered him a magnificent funeral, which took place 
 at Westminster Abbey, and the great Protector signed a warrant 
 to the Lords of the Treasury, to pay Dr. Bernard $1,000 to de- 
 fray the expenses of it. Bishop Usher was a theological writer, 
 noted as the author of the system of chronology which is fre- 
 quently printed in the margin of the Bible. On the restoration 
 of the church, Richard Sterne was elected bishop. He is cele- 
 brated as having been domestic chaplain to the notorious Arch- 
 bishop Laud, and attending him on the scaffold. He was also 
 a prisoner in the Tower, with several others, on complaint made 
 by Cromwell, that they had used the Cambridge College plate for 
 the king's relief at York ; but in 1 664 he was translated to York 
 Minster, and died there in 1683.
 
 CAKLISLE. 195 
 
 One of the honors of this cathedral is that, in 1782, William 
 Paley, the writer on Political Economy, Natural Theology, and 
 Evidences of Christianity, was its archdeacon, and it was here 
 that these works were written. His burial-place and monument 
 are both in the cathedral. 
 
 Near the market-place are the remains of a castle, built by the 
 Normans in 1092. It is much dilapidated, but prominent por- 
 tions are in excellent preservation. A race of people at the 
 zenith of power erected and used this castle. This race de- 
 clined, and a new one came out of its decay. Kingdoms have 
 since risen and gone into oblivion. The march of humanity 
 has for eight centuries been going on its way, but the castle 
 remains, — changed only as time has disintegrated the stone, 
 and so gradually that no one generation has realized the trans- 
 formation. More substantial material for thought may be ob- 
 ained from these old English places, than from almost any other 
 spots in Europe. 
 
 At 6 p. m. this Saturday night we took train for Glasgow, and 
 so are for a short time to be among the stalwart Caledonians.
 
 SCOTLAND.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 GLASGOW — THE ROB-ROY COUNTRY — THE LAKES 
 
 CALLENDER — STIRLING. 
 
 ON their own soil, or anywhere in the world, the record of 
 the Scotch is good. Those hard-working and reflective 
 qualities, nurtured by John Knox, have borne fruit. 
 Not dependent on priest or bishop for rule or thought, the 
 people have long felt their individual responsibility. Industry, 
 frugality, integrity, have been nursed by the child with its 
 mother's milk. A hard theology cramped the mind in exploring 
 fields of philosophy, and the range of thought has been limited. 
 The people employed so much time in preparing for another 
 life, that they had but little to devote to making them- 
 selves comfortable in this world. Indeed, comfort was consid- 
 ered suspicious ; but these conditions were preparing them to 
 contend with German Rationalism, and the blending of the two 
 will make a good harvest. While the Scotch element has been 
 eminently conservative, and so a brake on the wheels of a hurried 
 advance, the German element has been doing its work of lifting 
 thought to a higher plane. Each has given and received, and 
 American thought, engendered three thousand miles away, is 
 a golden mean between the two. Calvinism in America has 
 been at its best, and also, we trust, at its worst. The Ger- 
 man mind has also influenced America. The flint and the steel 
 strike fire, and it is consuming the superstitions of one system, 
 and purifying the rationalism of the other. 
 
 At 6.30 p. m. we ride out of the Carlisle station. The sun is yet 
 high, and the fine scenery of Northern England meets our view. 
 It is more hilly than it is farther south, and better wooded. Every- 
 thing looks more like New England. Gardens prevail, and many 
 to remind us of home. Nothing struck us more strangely 
 than the length of the days, and, to use an Irishman's expression, 
 "the evening end of them." At 9 o'clock p. m. we can see to 
 read and write ; and at Paris a month later, July 4, we could see
 
 200 SCOTLAND. 
 
 to write distinctly at 9.30 p. m., and could see the time by the 
 watch at 9.50. After a ride of three hours, we glide into the 
 station at 
 
 GLASGOW. 
 
 This chief commercial and manufacturing city of Scotland is 
 situated on the River Clyde, twenty-one miles from its mouth, 
 and forty-one miles southwest of Edinburgh, and has a popu- 
 lation of 477,141, or, including the suburbs, 547,538. The level 
 city is three miles long, and lies on both sides of the river, 
 which is five hundred feet wide, crossed by two suspension 
 and three stone bridges, and has several ferries. 
 
 It became a burgh, or town, as early as 11 90, and was then 
 granted the privilege of holding an annual fair. In 1556 it 
 ranked the eleventh among the towns of Scotland. It is the 
 fourth town in Great Britain in its exports, and the second in 
 wealth and population. The Romans had a station on the 
 Clyde at the location of the present city. In 1300 a battle was 
 fought in what is now High Street, between the English and 
 Wallace, and in it the noted Percy was slain. In 1650 Re- 
 formed Superintendents superseded Catholic Bishops ; and in 
 1638 the famous Assembly of the Presbyterian church was held 
 here, and Episcopacy was abjured. For several years after, the 
 city was a prey to both parties in the civil wars, and fire, plague, 
 plunder, and famine desolated the place. June 4, 1690, the 
 charter of William and Mary conferred on the townsmen the 
 right of electing their own magistrates. 
 
 Glasgow is well laid out ; the streets are wide and clean, and 
 there is little to be seen that is peculiar. The aspect is com- 
 mercial. Stores and warehouses prevail, and the question often 
 arises, " Where do the people live?" The centres of popula- 
 tion are around outside the business portion, and the mansions 
 exhibit more thoroughness of construction than fancy in deco- 
 ration. We are in one of the great places of Scotland, not in 
 one of France or Germany ; this fact is everywhere apparent. 
 Liverpool represents it, not Paris. The city has four parks. 
 The Green has 140 acres, on the north bank of the river, and 
 near the east end of the city. Kelvingrove Park has 40 acres 
 at the west end; Queen's Park, 100 acres. Alexandra Park 
 has 85 acres, on elevated ground, portions of it commanding 
 views of the entire city. A stream runs through it, and primeval 
 groves, grand avenues, lawns, and flower-plots make the place 
 one of great attraction. On Sunday, at the time of our visit, tens
 
 GLASGOW. 201 
 
 of thousands were enjoying it. Adjoining this are the grounds 
 of Glasgow University, yet more elevated. The grand edifice is 
 of a domesticated Gothic architecture, built of gray limestone, and 
 stands on the highest ground. It was finished in 1870, and cost 
 $1,650,000. This college was founded in 1443 by James II., 
 but it had only a feeble existence till 1560, when Queen Mary 
 bestowed upon it one half of all the confiscated church property 
 of the city. The library was founded in 1473, and contains 
 105.000 volumes. It has an observatory and a good cabinet, 
 and the grounds contain 22 acres. The city is supplied with 
 water from the celebrated Loch Katrine, by an aqueduct 26 
 miles long, and it sustains two theatres, two museums, and as 
 many public libraries. It has 175 churches and chapels, and 
 a very fine botanic garden of 40 acres, which is kept in per- 
 fect condition and open free to visitors. 
 
 The cathedral is of all edifices of the kind the most ancient 
 looking. It is on the border of the city, and enclosed with 
 a high iron fence, being surrounded by a small burial-ground. 
 A peculiarity is that many tombs and monuments are entirely 
 encaged, the top included. The ironwork, generally about four 
 feet wide, seven feet long, and seven feet high, is rusty and pro- 
 duces a disagreeable effect. We were disgusted with the 
 appearance of the grounds of this metropolitan church, really 
 the finest old Gothic building in Scotland. It is not large but 
 is on a site that overlooks most of the city. It was begun in 
 1 192, and was ready for consecration in 1197. It enjoyed an 
 unmolested use for the papal worship during four hundred years ; 
 but, notwithstanding this long service, it was not finished till 
 the present century. Its noteworthy features are the crypt and 
 a profusion of brilliant stained glass. Near the cathedral is a 
 cemetery called the Necropolis, situated on very elevated 
 ground, and highly attractive. The place is approached from 
 the cathedral by a grand stone bridge, and has a park-like 
 entrance and inside avenues at the base of the hill. This 
 burial-place, built for all time, was provided by private munifi- 
 cence, and makes the cage-work and ill-managed grounds of the 
 cathedral look all the more heathenish. The cemetery is not 
 large but may comprise three or four acres. It is on high land, 
 that, but for the terraces and inclined avenues traversing the 
 hillside, would be very difficult of as< ent ; but good engineering 
 makes it most inviting. The views from this spot of the city and 
 suburbs are very grand, and it is constantly resorted to as a park. 
 One peculiarity of the place is the number of neat monuments,
 
 202 SCOTLAND. 
 
 and a general absence of ordinary gravestones. The monuments 
 are nearly all of white marble, and set in close rows. There 
 are more beautiful designs than we have seen before or since. 
 The taste manifested is exquisite, and would do honor to Paris, 
 — instead of dishonor, as do the monuments of the noted Pere 
 La Chaise, the Mount Auburn of France. 
 
 In this ground is an imposing monument, erected to martyrs, 
 whose blood is "the seed of the church." The statements on 
 this monument interest not only the people of Glasgow but 
 Americans ; and so, although the cold and intense wind makes it 
 a work of difficulty, we copy them. They have been read by 
 thousands and will be read by thousands more ; they inspire 
 fortitude, and will thus be a perpetual honor to the noble ones 
 whom they commemorate. On the west side is the following : — 
 
 To testify Gratitude for inestimable services 
 
 in the cause of religion, education, and clvil 
 
 Liberty ; 
 
 To awaken Admiration 
 
 of that Integrity, Disinterestedness, and Courage 
 
 Which stood unshaken in the midst of Trials, 
 
 And in the Maintenance of the highest objects; 
 
 Finally, 
 
 To cherish unceasing Reverence for the Principles 
 
 and 
 
 Blessings of that great Reformation 
 
 by the influence of which our Country through the 
 
 Midst of difficulties 
 
 Has risen to Honor, Prosperity, and Happiness, 
 
 This Monument is erected by Voluntary Contribution 
 
 To the Memory of John Knox ; 
 
 The Chief instrument under God of the Reformation 
 
 in Scotland, on the 22nd day of September 1825. 
 
 He died — rejoicing in the faith of the Gospel — 
 
 at Edinburgh — 
 
 on the 24.TH of November a.d. 1572, in the 
 
 67TH YEAR OF HIS AGE. 
 
 On the north side is the following : — 
 
 Patrick Hamilton, a youth of high rank 
 
 and distinguished attainments, 
 
 was the first martyr in scotland for the cause of 
 
 the Reformation. 
 
 HE WAS CONDEMNED TO THE FLAMES AT St. ANDREWS IN 
 
 1528 IN THE 
 
 TWENTY-FOURTH YEAR OF HIS AGE.
 
 GLASGOW. 203 
 
 From 1530 to 1540 persecution raged in every 
 
 quarter ; many suffered 
 
 the most cruel deaths ; and many fled to england 
 
 and the Continent. 
 
 Among these early Martyrs were Jerome Russell 
 
 and Alexander Kennedy 
 
 two young men of great piety and talents who 
 
 suffered at glasgow 
 
 in 1538. In 1544 George Wishart returned to 
 
 Scotland from which he had 
 
 been banished, and preached the Gospel in 
 
 VARIOUS QUARTERS. In 1546 
 THIS HEAVENLY MINDED MAN, THE FRIEND AND 
 
 INSTRUCTOR OF KNOX, WAS ALSO 
 COMMITTED TO THE FLAMES AT ST. ANDREWS. 
 
 The south side has the following : — 
 
 The Reformation produced a revolution in the 
 
 sentiments of mankind 
 
 the greatest as well as the most beneficent that 
 
 has happened since the 
 
 publication of christianity. 
 
 in 1547, and in the city where his friend george 
 
 Wishart had suffered, 
 
 John Knox, surrounded with dangers, first 
 
 preached the doctrine of the 
 
 Reformation. In 1559 ON THE 24TH of August, the 
 
 Parliament of Scotland 
 
 adopted the confession of faith presented by the 
 
 Reformed 
 
 Minister, and declared Popery to be no longer 
 
 the religion 
 of this kingdom. john knox became the minister 
 
 of Edinburgh, where he continued to 
 
 HIS death the incorruptible guardian of our best 
 
 interests. 
 
 " i can take god to witness," he declared, " that i 
 never preached con- 
 tempt of any man and wise men will consider 
 that a true friend cannot 
 flatter ; especially in a case that involves the 
 salvation of the bodies and 
 souls, not of a few persons, but of a whole realm." 
 When laid in the 
 Grave the Regent said, "There lieth He who 
 
 i.k I I.aki D 1 in PACE OF M IN, 
 WHO WAS OFTEN THREATENED Willi THE DAG IND 
 DAGGER, JfEl HATH ENDED Ills DAYS IN PEACE and honor."
 
 204 SCOTLAND. 
 
 On the east side we have the following : — 
 
 * Among the early and distinguished friends of 
 the Reformation, 
 Should be especially remembered Sir James 
 
 Sandilamis, 
 
 of Calder, Alexander Earl of Glencairn, 
 
 Archibald, Earl of Argyll, and Lord James Stewart, 
 
 afterwards known by the name of " the good 
 
 Regent : " 
 John Erskine of Dun, and John Row, who were 
 distinguished among 
 the Reformed Ministers for their cultivation of 
 ancient and modern literature. 
 Christopher Goodman and John Willock, who 
 came from england 
 to preach the gospel in scotland ; john wlnram, 
 John Spottiswood, and John Douglass, who with 
 John Row and John Knox compiled the first 
 Confession of Faith 
 which was presented to the parliament of scot- 
 land, and also the 
 first book of discipline. 
 
 The monument is composed of a plinth, some six feet square, 
 upon which is another of less dimensions, with the sides some- 
 what inclined inward, bearing the inscriptions ; then, two low 
 plinths smaller yet ; and resting on these is a Grecian Doric 
 column some two feet or more in diameter ; and on the abacus, 
 or cap, at its corners, are ornaments above it. Next there is a 
 low pedestal, or corniced plinth, and the whole is surmounted 
 by a life-size statue of John Knox. The whole may be about 
 thirty-five feet high. 
 
 The city, though largely given to traffic, has extensive manu- 
 factures. Among these are the St. Rollox chemical works, the 
 largest in the world, covering sixteen acres, and employing a 
 thousand men. The chimney is 450 feet high, 220 feet higher 
 than the large one at East Cambridge, Mass. ; or, to make it 
 more definite, it is exactly the height of the East Cambridge 
 chimney with Bunker Hill Monument on top of it, for they are 
 respectively 230 and 220 feet high. There is one in Glasgow 
 ten feet higher than this, — that belonging to the artificial 
 manure works, which measures 460 feet. 
 
 At 11.30 on this Sunday we attended service at one of the 
 Presbyterian churches. As an act of charity let the church be 
 nameless, for we must add that the services were very tedious.
 
 GLASGOW. 205 
 
 The prayer was extraordinarily long and prosy ; six verses were 
 sung in each psalm ; the explanatory remarks on the Scripture 
 readings were long and tame ; and the sermon, of a full hour's 
 length, while well written and delivered, was a rehash of the com- 
 monest platitudes. While the theologic world moves, this parish 
 was too near an ancient theologic centre to derive much advan- 
 tage from the motion. It is yet a philosophic question whether 
 the exact axis of a revolving shaft moves at all, and we can but 
 think that a part of the Presbyterian Church of Scotland is near 
 such a fixed centre. But we went to hear some actual Scotch 
 Presbyterianism, and were not sorry that we did so ; though 
 conscious that we could have displayed fortitude under our dis- 
 appointment, had we found the stanch Knoxites discussing the 
 signs of the times. 
 
 We love this old church for the vast good it has done. As 
 our ships need anchors, so the Church Universal needs conser- 
 vatives ; and, in spite of our liberalism, she will have them as 
 long as they are needed. 
 
 There was more order in Glasgow, more of the Puritan's quiet 
 Sunday, than we ever saw before, at home or abroad. There 
 are no horse-cars or omnibuses visible, and few teams of any 
 kind. No shops were open, though there were many drunken 
 people. Sunday drinking is prohibited; though the sale is 
 licensed on other days, as in Boston. It is said to be " under 
 wholesome management." Transpose the syllables, and instead 
 of wholesome say somewhole, and you have the truth. At the 
 Albion Hotel we had thought ourselves in a temperance house, 
 at least for Sunday ; but all day long groups of all ages and con- 
 ditions and both sexes were at the bar ; and so large was the 
 number that a sentinel only let in new customers when others 
 went out. Till ten at night the rum-mill was in operation. Li- 
 cense men to do wrong, and you throw the reins on the back of 
 your horse. Spend less time in the church, and devote more to 
 enforcing the law, and God's kingdom will sooner come. 
 
 June i is as cold and damp as a Boston day in March or 
 April. Great coats are near us, as good friends ought to be. 
 
 At 10 p. m. to bed, — not to sleep, nor, as Shakespeare has it, 
 to dream, but to hear the incessant tramp of the tipplers ; " aye, 
 there 's the rub ; " but we drop a veil over the theme. We arose 
 at dawn, breakfasted by-and-by, and at 7 p.m. continued our 
 tour towards Edinburgh, sorry for some things that must be 
 said, if we would fully describe the Glasgow that now is, — not 
 the Glasgow that is to be.
 
 20G SCOTLAND. 
 
 The passage to Edinburgh may be made in a few hours, but 
 we are to go the way of all tourists who can afford a day or two 
 for the journey. 
 
 We follow down the Clyde for some miles, amid pleasing, 
 though not very interesting scenery. There on our left are the 
 ruins of Dumbarton Castle, situated on a cliff, and picturesque 
 amidst their solitary beauty. This was once a fortress, and is 
 the place from which Mary, Queen of Scots, took passage for 
 France when a child. 
 
 A few miles more, and we arrive at Balloch. This is a little 
 hamlet at the south end of Loch Lomond. This lake covers 
 forty-five square miles, and is one of the Scottish lake-group, 
 corresponding to the Killarney lakes in Ireland. We here 
 embark in a fine little steamer. The lake is not large in appear- 
 ance, as its small bays occupy much of its area ; and in most 
 respects it resembles the upper lake of Killarney, or our lakes 
 George and Winnipiseogee. The water is clear, and the mar- 
 gin prettily wooded ; and this end is well studded with islands. 
 There is a grandeur about the highlands of Scotland not to be 
 seen on the Irish lakes. Prominent among the mountains is 
 Ben Lomond, standing out in sublime greatness. It is 3,192 
 feet high ; but, while really lower than some hills at Killarney, 
 its contour intensifies its impression. We appreciate its com- 
 panionship, and, as we sail on, are constantly introduced to 
 Ben Lomond's companions. Ben Dhu, as it is familiarly called, 
 though the real name is Ben MacDhui, is 4,296 feet high. These 
 highlands are rugged in their outline, and present vast glens, 
 crags, ravines, and broken peaks, being unlike those of south- 
 ern Ireland, which are generally smooth and rounded. The 
 mountain haze is seen in great perfection, and the hills are well 
 wooded, and exhibit a splendid verdure. There is a peculiar 
 moisture and softness in the air, with a fragrant and stimulat- 
 ing quality. In contradistinction to the Irish lakes, these of 
 Scotland have a bold and masculine appearance. We speak 
 of elegance and nicety at Ireland's lakes, but here we have, 
 added to those qualities, vastness and power reflected from their 
 mountains. 
 
 We admire Glen Luss, Bannochar, and Glen Fruin, as well 
 as other objects of interest touched upon in the " Lady of the 
 I^ake," especially in the rower's song, " Hail to the Chief," for 
 we are at the very scene of the poem. It adds a charm to 
 recall the fact that many a time Sir Walter Scott here sailed and 
 admired; and afterwards recalled his thought, — intensifying it
 
 THE ROB-ROY COUNTRY. 207 
 
 and materializing all, till his verse became a thing of life. Our 
 steamer touches at Landing Luss, on the left, and at Rowarden- 
 nan on the right ; then we cross to Tarbet on the left, and after 
 an inspiring sail of two hours we are at Inversnaid. This is an 
 old fort and a landing. It is of no importance as a fort, but was 
 built in 1 713, as a defence against the Macgregors, led by the 
 celebrated Rob Roy. 
 
 The principal interest in the place lies in the fact of its having 
 been the lairdship of Rob Roy before he became an outlaw and 
 a freebooter. Lower down, at the foot of Ben Lomond, we are 
 shown the prison, a rocky fastness at the edge of the water, 
 where it is said he confined his captives. Every nook of these 
 Highlands is full of romance. The writings of Sir Walter have 
 surcharged the very atmosphere with it ; and people who are 
 ever so matter-of-fact at home, here become permeated with the 
 etherialistic influence. Ideality has free play. At home they 
 say, " I don't believe a word of it." Here they are different 
 people, and say, " It may have been so." Rob Roy, whose his- 
 tory has been immortalized by Scott in his novel of that name, 
 was largely connected with this neighborhood. A few words 
 concerning him may be of service to the reader who has not the 
 history at hand. He was born about 1660, the exact time and 
 place not being known. He died, it is said, at Aberfoyle in 
 1 738, at about the age of seventy-seven. His true name was 
 Robert Macgregor, which, when the clan Macgregor was out- 
 lawed by the Parliament of Scotland in 1693, he changed for 
 that of his mother, and was afterward known as Robert Campbell. 
 Prior to the Great Rebellion of 17 15 he was a cattle-dealer. He 
 was very artful and intriguing, and gave the Duke of Montrose 
 an excuse for seizing his lands, and then retaliated by reprisals 
 on the Duke ; and for many years he continued his double- 
 facedness, levying blackmail on his dupes and enemies, in 
 spite of a garrison of English soldiers stationed near his 
 residence. 
 
 We now leave our steamer and take open teams, with four 
 fine horses to each, for a ride of eight miles to Loch Katrine. 
 Never a finer ride than this, over the beautiful heaths of Scot- 
 land. The mountain scenery is exquisite in all directions. At 
 times we ride along precipitous paths, where we can look down 
 from " awfully giddy heights to valleys low," the road winding 
 amid the hills and constantly changing beauties. A heavily 
 nrooded country and splendid vegetation prevail, and there is 
 no trace of barrenness, as in the Gap of 1 hinloe.
 
 208 SCOTLAND. 
 
 We go along the shore of the meandering river and Lake 
 Arklett, and now the driver tells us that here was the cottage 
 of Helen Macgrcgor. Mountains are about us, and here is 
 an enclosed plain, perhaps half a mile wide and a mile long, 
 level as our house floors, and nearly covered with heather, — 
 which is a sort of heath, quite like that grown by us as a 
 house-plant, and, being of a dark tint, gives a purplish hue to 
 the moor. The space we are now going over, all between the 
 two lakes, is the country referred to in the novel. Over these 
 very roads that singular fellow rode and walked. The air here 
 was remarkably exhilarating. It seemed new, as if it was for 
 the first time breathed. The ride was much too short. There 
 were millions of reasons for wishing it longer, so many things 
 were waiting to entertain us on the right hand and on the 
 left, before and behind us, under foot and overhead. It was 
 good for us to be there, and the inclination was strong upon us 
 to build tabernacles. At length Loch Katrine was reached. It 
 contains an area of only five square miles, and is the one, 
 though twenty-seven miles away, from which water is taken for the 
 city of Glasgow. It is claimed that it is one of the finest lakes 
 in the world, and it is certain that no one can imagine its supe- 
 rior. The teams leave us at a very comfortable two-story 
 hotel, at the head of the lake, and here we are to dine ; which 
 service over, we walk out for a ramble, as an hour is to elapse 
 before the steamer arrives from the other end of the lake. A 
 wide road separates the hotel from the latter ; a wharf ex- 
 tends from it, and to the left is a sea-wall, perhaps a hundred feet 
 long, with a protective rail along the top. To the left of that, 
 and in the corner, on the border of the lake, is a fine grove be- 
 longing to the hotel, with swings and other entertainments for 
 tourists. In the rear of the house are the stables ; and back of 
 these, and around and back of the grove, is a hill which any- 
 where but in Scotland would be called a mountain. To the 
 right of the hotel, and bordering the lake, were a grove and field, 
 with here and there a cottage. The mountains in the distance 
 loomed up grandly ; and the borders of the lake, while more or 
 less irregular and indented, had a very clean-cut look. The lake 
 was not very wide here, — perhaps a fourth of a mile, — and it 
 stretched on, without much change. 
 
 We take the little steamer here at Stronaclacher, — we had 
 almost forgotten to tell the name, — and as we look down 
 into the crystal water, it seems too pure for a steamer to sail in, 
 for it is quite equal in clearness to Seneca Lake, New York,
 
 THE LAKES. 209 
 
 and reminds one of it. Remove the town of Geneva from its cosy 
 situation at the end of the lake ; put there a long wooden hotel ; 
 border the shores with a heavily wooded country to the water's 
 edge ; add some mountains off in the distance to the right and 
 the left, at Ovid, Lodi, and Hector ; put some more opposite 
 on the other side of the lake, and a large lot of them at Watkins ; 
 then condense all to one quarter the size, and you have the size 
 and shape of Loch Katrine. 
 
 We have now left the Rob-Roy Country, and are in that of 
 the " Lady of the Lake," for this Lake Katrine is the one Sir 
 Walter had in mind when he penned that fairy-like romance. 
 We come first to a little island, well covered with trees and 
 thick shrubbery, where the meeting of Fitzjames and Douglas is 
 assumed to have taken place, and where the charming heroine 
 was seen in her boat. Ragged Ben Venu appears ; and ahead 
 of that are the sharp peaks of Ben A'an, the whole surrounded 
 by heavy woodlands, here and there extending well up the 
 mountains, and marked by great glens and gorges. After the sail 
 of an hour, much too soon we change our vehicle ; and here, at 
 the little wharf, carriages are ready to take us to Callender. 
 Our party numbers about thirty, and we are to go through the 
 Trosachs, which comprise some of the finest scenery in Scot- 
 land. We soon arrived at Ardcheanocrohan, a fifteen-lettered 
 place, whose name we were shy in pronouncing ; and we confess 
 it takes some courage to write it, but we presume it's good 
 Scotch. 
 
 As we stand at the door of the tavern, — that 's just what it is, 
 — or rather as we sit on our coach-seat in front of the building and 
 look across the lake, there, in superb repose, three or four miles 
 away, is the Clachan of Aberfoyle, well remembered by the readers 
 of " Rob Roy." We ride through mountain scenery, equalling 
 if not excelling any at the White Mountains of New Hampshire, 
 and strongly reminding one of the Notch. Our road winds to 
 the right, and Loch Achry comes to view, — a lovely gem we 
 would fain transport to America. 
 
 In due time we arrive at the Turk Water, and the place cele- 
 brated in the " I^ady of the Lake," where, as Sir Walter says, — 
 
 When the Brigg of Turk was won, 
 
 'I bi i"i< i horsi man rode alone. 
 
 This is a single-an bed stone bridge, which crosses this stream. 
 We are now introduced to tin- great pine- lands of the Glen- 
 finlas. The trees are very tall, and the scenery is wild and 
 
 14
 
 210 SCOTLAND. 
 
 unusual. In front is the heathery Craig Moor, Glenfinlas 
 Hills, with their winding valleys, and Loch Vennaehar with its 
 clear water and bordering shrubs. We pass a waterfall, which 
 runs out of Loch Katrine, and helps to supply Glasgow with its 
 water. This used to be known by the uneuphonious name of 
 Coilantogle Ford, and is the spot where Fit/James and Rod- 
 erick Dhu had their conflict. Now appears the stately Ben 
 Ledi, one of the tallest giants. We pass on, over the Callender 
 bridge, and are at the town of 
 
 CALLENDER, 
 
 an old settlement of small account. It has a main street bor- 
 dered by stone and brick houses with pleasant grounds. 
 
 We take the train for Stirling, and lose sight of the hill-country 
 which for hours has enraptured us. It was the treat of a life- 
 time, and as such to be appreciated and enjoyed. We pass the 
 town of Uumblane, to which allusion is made in the song of 
 "Jessie, the Flower of Dunblane," and then over the famed 
 Bridge of Allan, familiar by the ballad of " Allan Water." 
 
 After a ride of an hour, at 5 p. m. we approach 
 
 STIRLING. 
 
 This is a place of special note. It is situated on the River 
 Forth, thirty-one miles from Edinburgh, and has a population 
 of 14,279. In beauty of situation it rivals the capital. The 
 buildings present an appearance of modernized antiquity, being 
 interspersed with mansions of the Scottish Nobles. The so- 
 ciety here is highly aristocratic. Stirling was a favorite place 
 of residence for James V., who died at Falkland, Dec. 13, 1542. 
 He was one of the kings of Scotland, born at Linlithgow 
 Palace, April 13, 15 12. The old House of Parliament, built by 
 him, is still standing, and now used as barracks. The ancient 
 Gothic church is the one in which James VI. was crowned, 
 and there are the remains of an unfinished palace, begun in 
 1570, by the Regent, the Earl of Mar. Near the town are 
 the ruins of the famed Cambuskenneth Abbey ; and not far 
 from the town, perhaps three miles away, is the celebrated 
 field of Bannockburn, on which the battle was fought June 24, 
 1 3 14. War had raged between England and Scotland for 
 many years under Edward II., who, in contentions with his 
 parliament, had neglected Scotland. Robert Bruce III. re-
 
 STIRLING. 211 
 
 covered all of Scotland with the exception of the fortress in 
 Stirling, which alone held out for the English ; and even that, the 
 governor, Mowbray, had agreed to surrender, if it was not 
 relieved before the feast of John the Baptist. Edward was 
 aroused by this report, and he encamped near it at the head of 
 a large army. He was met by Bruce with 30,000 picked men, on 
 the eve before the day fixed for surrender. The battle of 
 Bannockburn was the result, and ended in the utter defeat of 
 the English. Bruce was now able to dictate terms, and he ex- 
 changed prisoners for his wife, sister, and other relatives, who had 
 long been in captivity to the English. This success being attained, 
 the Scotch assumed the offensive, and invaded Ireland ; and, 
 meeting with success there, Edward Bruce, brother of Robert, 
 was crowned king of that country, May 2, 13 16. 
 
 As one stands at the castle, 220 feet above the surrounding 
 land, two miles away lies Bannockburn : a few stone walls and a 
 grove designate the famed spot. The eye takes in a wide scene 
 of unparalleled beauty. Cows and sheep graze peacefully there, 
 with no one to disturb or molest. The air is free from sug- 
 gestions of smoke of powder or boom of cannon.
 
 '112 SCOTLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 STIRLING CASTLE — EDINBURGH. 
 
 GRAND old Stirling Castle ! It is situated on high ground. 
 On one side the land is very precipitous ; in fact the walls 
 are on the actual verge of the high bluff, and there is an 
 almost vertical fall of more than two hundred feet. In all 
 directions is a view never excelled. There lie the quiet fields, 
 extending from the base of the hill, while the river, like a serpent 
 of gigantic but graceful proportions, curves across them. Here 
 and there are charming groves and solid woodlands, and on, 
 in the distant west, are the famed Highlands. To the north and 
 east are the Ochil Hills, with their companions, the Campsie 
 Hills, on the south ; and on the rear lies Stirling town, naively 
 antique. 
 
 How natural is it to look farther over the great landscape. As 
 we face the town, off at our right, on a great hill, — almost a crag, 
 — is the Wallace Monument, of which we will speak by and by. 
 In the distance are the bewitching ruins of Cambuskenneth 
 Abbey and the Abbey Craig, the Bridge and the Water of Allan, 
 the Great Carse, the Valley of the Forth, the Field of Bannock- 
 burn, and a thousand points of beauty. 
 
 It is no wonder that here kings and queens have delighted to 
 stay. The building is open to visitors, and for the small fee 
 of a shilling one may take his fill of delight. The edifice is a 
 thorough castle. Built of brownish stone, it has a subdued 
 look ; but its low towers and battlements, its varied outline and 
 its great extent, all impress the beholder with reverence. It 
 would be a work of many chapters to describe in detail the 
 various articles on exhibition, — reminders of remarkable events. 
 Here is the Douglas Room, where James II. assassinated the 
 powerful and aggravating Earl of Douglas in 1440. The win- 
 dows are shown from which these men leaned and conversed 
 before the bloody work ; for they remain precisely as they were 
 more than four hundred years ago. There resided all the king 
 Jameses, from the First to the Sixth inclusive, as did Mary
 
 STIRLING CASTLE. 213 
 
 Queen of Scots. The castle is used as barracks for English 
 soldiers, though a portion of the building is fearfully vacant, and 
 one prominent quarter is a museum of antiquities. We return 
 through the large courtyards by which we entered, and through 
 the great arched opening, in which is run up the ponderous 
 portcullis, or strong lattice gateway, whose 
 
 " Massive bar had oft rolled back the tide of war." 
 
 The home of kings and of the most noted persons of the civil- 
 ized world ! Soil made sacred by the tread of nobility. But 
 we were free men, unhindered observers, at liberty to examine 
 and criticise, in unqualified republican American fashion, things 
 once too sacred for common people to look upon. How 
 changed ! What has done this but popular education, and the 
 growth of religious liberty, — elements underlying the Magna 
 Charta, which has discounted royalty, and opened the great 
 doors of civilization? Where are now the kings, the queens? 
 Their places of habitation are our intellectual banquet-hall ; 
 their household goods form a museum of curiosities for all who 
 are disposed to visit it. 
 
 Our next visit was to Gray Friars Church, founded by James 
 IV. in 1594, and here a strange thing met our view. The edi- 
 fice is in the usual form of a Latin cross. A large door has been 
 made in the centre of each transept, which are used as large 
 vestibules for the two auditoriums into which the choir and nave 
 of the edifice have been converted. The choir, which is the 
 oldest part and of Norman architecture, is used as a chapel for 
 the soldiers, and the nave as one of the parish churches of the 
 city. Both are in use, and services are held in them at the same 
 hours. The military church is under the English government, 
 and of course the service is Episcopalian ; while the other is 
 Scotch Presbyterian. Of course the church was originally Ro- 
 man Catholic, but in the old times John Knox often preached 
 there. How little endures ! One set of people exist and build 
 and occupy. Here their saints are made, die, and are buried, 
 and the stones become sacred to their memory. But by-and-by 
 other people come into possession. In a day the accumulated 
 sanctities are despoiled, and, as it were, evaporate. Nothing 
 but the soil stands secure from mutation and danger. In a 
 place like this we realize the force of the statement : " One 
 generation goeth an<l another cumeth, but the earth abideth 
 forever." 
 
 Near by is Guildhall. At the house adjoining we make our
 
 214 SCOTLAND. 
 
 desires known, and the young lady attendant, key in hand, ac- 
 companies us to the old room, which is perhaps thirty feet wide, 
 fifty feet long, and twenty feet high. The quintessence of anti- 
 quity is here. Imagination in full play could conceive nothing 
 more fascinatingly mediaeval. Dimly lighted, the heavy oak 
 finish looked the more quaint and feudalistic. What things of 
 interest we behold ! Here are pictures which centuries have mel- 
 lowed, and here, in the middle of the room, is the pulpit in which 
 John Knox preached a memorable sermon at the coronation of 
 the infant king, James VI., Aug. 29, 1567. It is octagonal, and 
 made of oak ; and only the upper part, or that in which the 
 preacher stood, is left, its floor resting upon the floor of the 
 hall. We stood in it, and, like John Knox on a certain occa- 
 sion, pronounced the text, " Put not your trust in princes, nor 
 in the son of man in whom there is no help." 
 
 Here was an old Crusader's hat, which we tried on. It is 
 large, not much decayed, has a broad brim, and is made of soft 
 felt ; in fact it is what is now called a slouched hat. Near by is 
 a burial-ground, unlike anything we had ever seen. It contains 
 some two or three acres, has through the central part a roman- 
 tic ravine, and in it are monuments and old statues embowered 
 in trees. Adjoining it is a lofty elevation of natural stone, from 
 which are charming views. There are monuments devoted to 
 the martyrs who died in defence of principle. The gravestones 
 are thick, and the place contains but few things that can be 
 paralleled elsewhere. There are fine trees, thick shrubbery, and 
 an atmosphere of romance. 
 
 Off at a distance of a mile or so, accessible by horse-cars, is 
 the Wallace Monument, standing on Moncrief, like a lone senti- 
 nel. Moncrief is a piece of ground quite park-like in its aspect ; 
 a good avenue is graded for a quarter -mile through the woods, 
 winding so as to make an easy ascent to the summit, which is a 
 very small level table-land. The entire city is visible, with the 
 castle as a background ; and off to the right, in the distance, are 
 the famed Highlands. In the near foreground is the river, with 
 a background of woods. Here and there are villages and ham- 
 lets, and Bannockburn is seen to best advantage, and places 
 where battles were fought by Wallace and Bruce. The monu- 
 ment stands at the centre of the table-land, which is 226 feet 
 above the streets of the city. The monument is square in plan, 
 about 40 feet on each side, and 200 feet high. It is built of 
 brown stone, with trimmings that resemble granite. It is of a 
 castellated design, and in appearance is hundreds of years old,
 
 STIRLING CASTLE. 215 
 
 though in reality it has been finished but six years. The keep- 
 er's house adjoins it, and is incorporated into the structure. 
 Either the castle, the Wallace Monument, the old church, the 
 Guildhall, or near burial-ground amply repay the effort re- 
 quired to make a visit to Stirling. The monument was erected 
 to the memory of Wallace, as its name implies, and a few words 
 concerning him may be of interest. 
 
 William Wallace was born in 1276. He had a fierce and 
 warlike disposition, and, while at the high-school at Dundee, he 
 stabbed the son of the English governor of Dundee Castle, and 
 fled. For a long time he was an outlaw and dwelt in the fast- 
 nesses of Scotland. He had great personal accomplishments, 
 and many persons became his followers. He organized an army, 
 and held it in readiness for invasions. An insurrection having 
 broken out in 1297, when he was but twenty-one years old, he 
 attacked an English Count at Scone, took many prisoners, and 
 killed many more. Under his direction, Sir William Douglas 
 surprised and compelled the English garrisons of Durisdeer and 
 Sanquhar, which were holding the castles, to surrender. So 
 great was his intrepidity and daring, and so formidable had his 
 army become, that Edward I. — the sovereign against whom he 
 was fighting, and to whom the people of Scotland were opposed 
 — sent 40,000 men and cavalry, under command of Sir Henry 
 Percy and Sir Robert Clifford, to oppose him. Wallace made 
 an attack on them when they arrived, but was repulsed and fell 
 back to Irvine in Ayrshire. Soon after this, however, disputes 
 arose among the Scottish leaders, which resulted in an agree- 
 ment which Wallace and Murray did not approve ; so they 
 retired into the northern countries, quickly recruited a formida- 
 ble army, and surprised and captured the English garrisons at 
 Aberdeen, Dunnottar, Forfar, and Montrose. Wallace had also 
 begun a siege at Dundee ; but being informed of the advance of 
 a large English force in the direction of Stirling, he abandoned 
 the siege, and, gathering adherents as he went, reached Stirling 
 with 40,000 foot and 180 horse. The English mustered 50,000 
 foot and 1,000 horse, under the Earl of Surrey. Messengers, 
 deserters from the Scottish army, were sent to persuade Wallace 
 to capitulate, and a free pardon was unconditionally offered, but 
 the overtures were rejected. The English crossed the river, 
 and the noted battle of Cambuskenneth was fought near Stirling 
 Bridge, Sept. 10, 1297. The result was that the English were 
 driven to Berwi< k, almost completely cut to pieces. Inflated by 
 success, Wallace, by general consent, — in the absence of the
 
 21G SCOTLAND. 
 
 lawful monarch, King John, who was then confined in the Tower 
 of London, — was declared guardian of Scotland. A severe 
 famine followed, and Wallace, to obtain supplies, invaded the 
 northern counties of England. He laid waste the country, 
 returned with his spoils, and began to reorganize Scotland. 
 Edward, smarting under the terrible defeat, and realizing the 
 insecurity of his possessions near the border, raised an army 
 of 80,000 infantry and 7,000 horse. A portion of the force 
 landed by sea on the northeast coast, and there suffered a re- 
 verse ; but the main body advanced by land northward, and on 
 July 22, 1298, met the Scottish forces at Falkirk, where a deci- 
 sive battle was fought, and Wallace's army was deflated with a 
 loss of 15,000. This was really the fall of his remarkable power. 
 He was only 22 years old, and from this time carried on a 
 guerilla warfare for several years, until at length he went to Paris 
 to seek French intervention. In 1304 he was declared an out- 
 law, large rewards were offered by King Edward for his arrest, 
 and he was immediately betrayed by Sir John Menteith. The 
 day after his arrival in London, the form of a trial was gone 
 through with at Westminster, and in derision of his pretensions 
 he was decorated with a crown of laurel. He was Condemned 
 to death, and the same day, Aug. 23, 1305, at the age of thirty- 
 five, he was dragged at the tails of horses to Smithfield, and 
 there hung, drawn, and quartered ; his head being sent to Lon- 
 don bridge, where it was perched on the top of the Southwark 
 Tower, while his other limbs were exposed to the anathemas of 
 the populace at Newcastle, Berwick, Perth, and at Stirling, the 
 seat of his daring deeds. It is for this patriot that this lofty 
 monument was erected, 5 70 years after the close of his eventful 
 life, which also gives a basis for Burns's " Scots wha hae wi' 
 Wallace bled ! " 
 
 The castle is now used for barracks ; and at the time of 
 our visit some hundreds of men were here stationed, — all of 
 that robust nature for which English soldiers are celebrated. A 
 sad waste of the flower of Great Britain, and the day is not far 
 distant when the mistake will be seen. The ambition for in- 
 creased territory is one of England's elements of weakness. Too 
 much distant territory is breaking her down. Soldiers are 
 everywhere required to maintain possession. This takes her 
 picked men, and the people must be taxed to feed an army of 
 drones. 
 
 We were especially interested in one thing here. The 
 ground, within the castle walls, is paved with small cobble-
 
 STIRLING CASTLE. 2l7 
 
 stones, like our gutters. Springing up among them were 
 knot-grass and small weeds. Three or four soldiers, with sharp- 
 pointed case-knives, were digging up this grass, scrupulously re- 
 moving every trace of it. We asked why this was being done, 
 and were informed that it was a punishment. For infraction of 
 some rule soldiers were sentenced to this menial work — in the 
 presence of comrades and visitors — for a day, or perhaps a 
 week ; and some were also deprived of dinner. The misde- 
 meanor might have been not returning at the proper time 
 when off by permission, being drunk while away, insubordi- 
 nation, deceiving officers, uncleanliness, or neglect of accou- 
 trements. 
 
 We have devoted much attention to Stirling, for it is con- 
 nected with events not only in the history of Scotland, but of 
 England as well. 
 
 At 12.30 p.m. the day after arrival, Tuesday, June 4, we 
 took train for Edinburgh, the chief city of Scotland, and in 
 many respects one of the finest cities in the world. The ride 
 from Stirling is through a pleasant country, much like that be- 
 tween 'Worcester and Springfield. It is but an hour and a half 
 before we see the spreading smoke-cloud, and we know from 
 experience that there is the city. The suburbs remind one of 
 an approach to Baltimore, Washington, and other Southern cities. 
 Most of the houses are brick, and two stories high. All are 
 dingy, though not very ancient or peculiar in design. We are 
 at a central point in Scotland, but we see nothing intensely out- 
 landish. 
 
 American tourists mistake in supposing everything to be 
 unlike home. Most things are such as are familiar, or not suffi- 
 ciently eccentric to arouse astonishment. The press, pictures, and 
 travel compel interchange of ideas and methods. They are 
 common levellers, producing wonderful uniformity in buildings, 
 dress, and habits. All these tend to oneness, and help to make 
 " the whole world kin." Strange objects are exceptional. They 
 belong to other days, and are interesting to their possessors and 
 the present generation — as they are to us, who have come 
 from a longer distance to see them — as curiosities. History 
 is common property. Bunker Hill has an interest to the intelli- 
 gent Scotchman, that Bannockburn has to us. 
 
 Hut we are at Edinburgh, and ready to say, as was said of 
 Jerusalem of old : " Beautiful for situation is Mount Zion, the 
 joy of the whole earth."
 
 218 SCOTLAND. 
 
 EDINBURGH. 
 
 The name was probably given to it by Edwin, king of North- 
 umbria, about the year 449, and for more than four hundred 
 years afterwards it remained little better than a village of mud- 
 and-fagot houses, collected on Castle Hill. In 854, more than 
 a thousand years ago, Simon of Durham speaks of it as a village 
 of importance. In the beginning of the thirteenth century 
 Alexander II. held a parliament here, and this fact gave the 
 place so much importance in the reign of David II. that it was 
 the chief place in Scotland. In 1384, Froissart, a French histo- 
 rian, visited it, and speaks of it as the Paris of Scotland. The 
 assassination of James I. (of Scotland) at Perth, in 1437, led to 
 the selection of Edinburgh as the capital of the kingdom. 
 James II. caused it to be walled in. 
 
 The place now has a population of 196,600. It comprises 
 two distinct parts, the old and the new, and these are separated, a 
 half-mile or more, by a deep ravine which, however, is under 
 the highest state of cultivation, and used as a park. As one 
 stands at a central point on the elegant avenue of the new por- 
 tion, in front of him is this ravine ; and beyond this is the Old 
 City with its dark-colored, quaint, ten-storied buildings pierced 
 with many windows. Innumerable gables present themselves, 
 the stories often jutting out over each other; and the com- 
 pact buildings rise in the rear, generally conforming to the slope 
 of the land. On the extreme right on the further side is the 
 castle, at a very rocky elevation, and forms a fit termination to 
 the aggregation of sombre houses. 
 
 At the extreme left of the Old City, and terminating it, are 
 the lofty elevations known as Salisbury Crags and Arthur's 
 Seat. These seem to be veritable mountains, and their blue 
 haze adds a charm nowhere else to be seen near a great city. 
 At the lower end, in front of the crags, the land is level, and the 
 city extends around to Calton Hill, another grand eminence. 
 The old part of the city and the new are well matched. This 
 new part is covered with important buildings and grand avenues. 
 Among the former are structures of Grecian architecture, for mu- 
 seums and art-galleries. The thoroughfare on which we stand, 
 Princes Street, is one of the finest in the world. It is wide 
 and level, and has fine buildings along its whole length on the 
 side opposite the park, and so facing the old city. At its centre, 
 near the park fence, is the noted monument to Sir Walter Scott.
 
 EDINBURGH. 219 
 
 Throughout the New City many of the brown stone houses 
 are of classic architecture ; and while there is an absence of the 
 light effect, in color and design, of the buildings in Paris, yet 
 there is an air of comfort that well compensates for this lack, 
 and speaks distinctly of those traits for which the reliable and 
 thoughtful Scotch are celebrated. The world furnishes no 
 better counterpart to Paris than Edinburgh. The ravine was for 
 centuries a lake; but it was drained in 1788, and afterwards 
 turned into gardens. The foundation of the first house in the 
 New City was laid Oct. 26, 1767, just 106 years ago, by Mr. 
 Craig, who was the general engineer of the New Town. He was 
 a nephew of Thomson the poet, author of " The Seasons." 
 From that time to the present the city has been extending in all 
 directions. We can name but few of its interesting points, for 
 Edinburgh is not only a place of deposit for objects of interest, 
 but is a museum of itself. 
 
 Calton Hill is at the lower end of the New Town. There 
 a road winds to the top, a sort of pasture, from which 
 a comprehensive view of Edinburgh is to be had, as well as 
 an extensive view of the country outside. From this emi- 
 nence is seen the Frith of Forth, an arm of the sea two miles 
 away. The island of Inchkeith nestles cosily in it, and the 
 long pier of Leith, a city of 56,000 inhabitants, stretches itself 
 out into its waters. The imposing Orchil Hills form the back- 
 ground, and in a clear day Ben Lomond and Ben Ledi loom 
 up majestically. The city extends well up and around the 
 base of Calton Hill. At one part of the grounds is an amphi- 
 theatre-like spot, given to the citizens by James II. as an arena 
 for tournaments. The sides are called Caltoun Craigs and 
 Greenside. According to the marvel-loving Pennant, it was 
 here that the Earl of Bothwell made his first impression on 
 Queen Mary, by the daring feat of galloping his horse down 
 the precipitous face of the hill. The most prominent objects 
 are Nelson's Monument and the National Monument. The 
 former is on a rocky elevation, 350 feet above the sea. It is 
 a square structure with embattled bastions at the corners, 
 the whole of castellated design ; and from the centre rises a 
 round tower, crowned by a circular lantern of less diameter, the 
 whole 100 feet high. At the top is a flagstaff, from which a large 
 ball drops at one o'clock, Greenwich time, moved by mechanism 
 in the Royal Observatory. The time-gun is fired from the 
 castle at the same moment, so that all within seeing or hearing 
 distance are apprised of the hour.
 
 220 SCOTLAND. 
 
 The National Monument was begun in 1816, the propo- 
 sition being to erect a structure in imitation of the Parthenon at 
 Athens, as a memorial of soldiers who fell at Waterloo. Thirty 
 thousand dollars were subscribed at the first public meeting. An 
 attempt was made to place the affair under the patronage of 
 George IV., and the interest declined. The foundation was 
 laid in 1822, and remained untouched till 1824, — when, with 
 $67,500 on hand, work was resumed. All the money was 
 expended, as was the case with the New York Court-house 
 in the structure of white marble, the three colossal steps, and the 
 ten columns in front, with the two flanking pillars on each side, 
 together with the architrave, or horizontal stones, upon them. 
 To this day it remains in this condition. The general sentiment 
 seems to be that this unfinished building, mute in its solitary 
 grandeur, is a more appropriate memorial than a completed 
 building could be. 
 
 There is a monument to Dugald Stewart, the distinguished 
 professor of mathematics, and afterwards of moral philosophy, in 
 Edinburgh University ; and another to John Playfair, also a pro- 
 fessor of mathematics, well known the civilized world over. 
 
 The Burns Monument at the base of the hill is a stone struc- 
 ture some forty feet square, surmounted by a circular section 
 surrounded by Corinthian columns, on which is a pedestal, 
 crowned by a low dome and terminated by four griffins. For a 
 small admission fee we were admitted, and were charmed by 
 the relics exposed to view, once the property of the Scottish 
 Bard. It is useless to attempt to name them, but many were 
 linked with a melancholy interest to a poet, whose life, like that 
 of Keats, " was writ in water." 
 
 Sir Walter Scott's Monument is doubtless the finest in the 
 world. It is built of brown sandstone, in elaborate Gothic archi- 
 tecture, and is two hundred feet high. It was erected in 1844, 
 at an expense of $80,500, from a competitive design furnished 
 by George Meikle Kemp, a young self-taught architect of great 
 promise, who died before the monument's completion, he 
 having been drowned in the Union Canal, when going home 
 one dark night. Beneath the open Gothic rotunda, with its 
 groined arches, is the colossal marble statue of Sir Walter, in 
 a sitting posture, by John Steell. Many of the niches on the 
 exterior are occupied by statues of characters in Scott's ro- 
 mances. At the centre of the great monument, and up 100 
 feet from the base, is a room in which are relics of the great 
 bard; and near the top, at the height of 175 feet, is a gallery
 
 EDINBURGH. 221 
 
 on the outside of the monument, from which are fine views of 
 the city. As one looks down on the busy mass below ; when 
 he sees the ruins of this animated map spread out beneath him, 
 — hills, ravine, parks, monuments, princely edifices, as the busy 
 hum of life surges up to him, — he loses sight of " the good 
 time coming," and is satisfied with that which has come already. 
 
 Holyrood Palace is situated on the level ground between 
 Calton Hill and Salisbury Crags, the portion connecting the 
 old and new parts of the city. The edifice is built of a 
 brown freestone, and the palace is open to visitors for a small 
 fee. The only portion of great antiquity is the northwest 
 tower, in which are the original Queen Mary apartments, erected 
 by James V., who died in 1542. Long ago abandoned as a 
 place of royal residence, this palace, when it is now used 
 at all, is occupied by the clergy of the Presbyterian, or the 
 established Church of Scotland, at the time of their annual 
 convocation, which lasts about two weeks. Here the minis- 
 ters are entertained during their stay. How passing strange ! 
 The home of rulers distinguished for hostility to anything but a 
 ceremonial religion is now used as the house of convocation for 
 strong Dissenters ! Much of it is vacant. We go first into 
 the picture-gallery, which was the banquet-hall. It was in this 
 room that Charles I., when but a prince, held grand levees. The 
 room is 150 feet long and 27 feet wide, elegantly finished in 
 oak. Here are pictures of 106 Scottish sovereigns, from Fergus 
 to James VII. They are mostly fancy portraits, and painted by 
 order of Charles II. to flatter the vanity of the pleasure-seeking 
 king. Their merits are delicately hinted in the wonderment of 
 Christopher Croftangier, that each and all of the Scottish kings 
 should have " a nose like the knocker of a door." The paint- 
 ings more recently added are genuine. There are rooms which 
 remain furnished as they were centuries ago. Among them is 
 Lord Darnley's Chamber, and here are many relics of Queen 
 Mary, and a portrait of 1 )arnley when a youth. From this room 
 is the private staircase by which Rizzio's assassins ascended to 
 Mary's apartments above. The murder of Rizzio is conspicu- 
 ous in the annals of Scotland. 
 
 Henry Stuart Darnley was the second husband of Mary, Queen 
 of Scots. When it became known that the queen proposed to 
 marry again, Darnley, who was possessed of a very handsome 
 person and accomplished in many of the fine arts of the day, 
 proceeded to Scotland, urged his suit, and was accepted. The 
 marriage took place in the chapel of Holyrood, adjoining the
 
 222 SCOTLAND. 
 
 palace, July 29, 1565. " He was," says Randolph, " conceited, 
 arrogant, and an intolerable fool." He was overbearing, and 
 towards Mary was petulant and insolent. He repaid her kind- 
 ness by profligacy and infidelity, and finally alienated her 
 affections by participating in the murder of her secretary, the 
 Italian Rizzio, March 9, 1566, within a year after marriage. 
 
 While she and Rizzio were together in the Queen's apartment, 
 Darnley rushed in, and held the Queen while Ruthven, George- 
 Douglas, and other conspirators stabbed Rizzio. Mary pleaded 
 with loud cries for the life of her favorite secretary ; but, hearing 
 that he was dead, she dried her tears and said : " I will now 
 have revenge. I will never rest till I give you as sorrowful a 
 heart as I have at this present." Darnley afterwards repented, 
 and aided Mary in driving his confederates from the kingdom ; but 
 his vices and follies were deep-seated, and the breach widened. 
 On the 19th of June of this same year their son James (after- 
 wards James I. of England) was born. In the next January, 
 Darnley was taken with the smallpox, and removed to a house 
 which stood by itself at a place called the Kirk of Field, near Edin- 
 burgh, it being feared that if he remained at Holyrood Palace 
 he might communicate the disease to the young prince. The 
 Queen visited him a few times during his sickness, and mani- 
 fested apparent sympathy. On the night of February 9 the 
 house was blown up with gunpowder, and the dead bodies of 
 Darnley and his servant were found in a mangled condition not 
 far from the ruins. Bothwell, already the Queen's lover, was the 
 chief actor in this tragedy, and in three months they were mar- 
 ried. The room of most interest is the apartment of Queen 
 Mary. This, like some of the other rooms, is finished with a 
 heavy-panelled oak ceiling, and has an uncarpeted oak floor. 
 There is also rich panel-work about the deeply recessed windows 
 and doors. The room is not large, — about 18 feet by 20 feet 
 square, and 12 feet high. It contains a few chairs, a table, and 
 bed, — the latter with high corner posts, square framework at 
 the top, and a canopy of red tapestry silk. Though three 
 hundred years have passed since their owner died, the furniture, 
 together with the mattress and richly embroidered quilts, are 
 still in a fair state of preservation, and the bed appears ready 
 for instant use. It was in this room that the Queen held 
 many angry disputations with her hated opponent, John Knox. 
 She is reported at one time to have demanded of the reformer, 
 " Think you that subjects, having the power, may resist their 
 princes? " and to have received the bold reply, intrepid as the
 
 EDINBURGH. 223 
 
 heart of him whose brain conceived it, " If princes exceed their 
 bounds, madam, no doubt they may be resisted with power." 
 
 At another interview the Queen turned her back in derision 
 of her faithful attendants. Knox, who never let slip a chance 
 to fight the " beasts at Ephesus," addressed himself to the 
 maids of honor and remarked : " O fair ladies, how pleasing 
 were this lyfe of yours if it would always abyde, and then in 
 the end we might pass to heaven with all this gay gear. But fye 
 upon that knave Death, that will come, wheddir we will or not." 
 
 On the adjoining premises are ruins replete with interest. 
 Both Holyrood palace and chapel are thought-inducing. Be- 
 neath this roof, within these walls, have been concocted schemes 
 which have influenced the destinies of the world. That chapel, 
 now a glorious ruin, was consecrated a thousand years ago by 
 the prayers and resolves and sacrifices of pious monks, and later 
 by deposits of dust, which once made the world tremble. There 
 is an impassable gulf between that day and this. Scarcely more 
 appreciative than the mantling ivy or the crumbling stones, or 
 the inanimate dust of regal sleepers, are we concerning past 
 realities. At best we but " see through a glass darkly." 
 
 The abbey ruins at Holyrood, and almost adjoining the pal- 
 ace, are enchanting. The walls of the building are nearly 
 whole, and reasonably free from decay, and have been in their 
 present condition for centuries. Ivy clambers over large por- 
 tions of it. The rich door-work is almost entire, and many 
 windows, save the glass, are perfect, and the carpet is of thick 
 grass. 
 
 Here Charles I. was crowned king of Scotland, and also James 
 II. and James III. Mary and Darnley were married here ; and 
 within these walls the Papal Legate presented to James IV., 
 from Pope Julius II., the sword of state, which is preserved 
 among the regalia of Scotland. 
 
 The last time the chapel was used for worship was in the reign 
 of James VII., who had Mass celebrated in it, — whicli 
 excited the populace to its destruction at the Revolution. Sev- 
 eral of the kings of Scotland were buried in the monastery, but 
 the remains were desecrated by die mob of 168S ; and it is 
 doubtful whether the bones of David II., who died Feb. 22, 
 1370, James II., who died in 1460, James V., who died Dec. 13, 
 1542, Darnley, who died Feb. 9, 1567, are now in the royal 
 vault. Rizzio, by command of Queen Mary, was at first interred 
 in this tomb, hut. to prevent s< andal, he was afterwards removed 
 to that part of the chapel nearest the palace.
 
 224 SCOTLAND. 
 
 In the centre of the square in front of the palace is a large and 
 elaborate fountain, a copy of one that stood in the court of Lin- 
 lithgow Palace. The spot was once occupied by a statue of 
 the Queen, which is said to have been so ugly that, at her 
 majesty's request, it was buried six feet deep in the courtyard of 
 the royal stables. Perhaps it will some day be exhumed, 
 and become a puzzle to the archaeologists of distant centuries. 
 In the garden is a curious sun-dial, described as Queen Mary's, 
 but really of later date, for it was constructed in the reign of 
 Charles I. The apex of the pedestal has twenty sides, on each 
 of which is a dial. .Outside the palace gate is a circular building 
 known as Queen Mary's Bath, where she is reported to have 
 enhanced her charms by bathing in white wine. It was by 
 this lodge that Rizzio's assassins made their escape. During 
 some repairs in 1789 a richly inlaid dagger was found sticking in 
 a part of the roof. It was of very antique form, and corroded 
 with rust. The presumption is that it was concealed there by 
 the conspirators. 
 
 Next demanding attention are the highlands near the lower 
 end of the city, and back of the older part. These are within a 
 few minutes' walk of the main streets, and make a lofty back- 
 ground called Salisbury Crags. They are very bluff-like on 
 the side towards the town ; but the top and rear are more level, 
 and covered with grass, and a grand avenue is graded circu- 
 itously to the table-land, from which there are remarkable 
 views of the entire city, for this point is 576 feet above the level 
 of the sea. As one looks at this elevation from the city, it has a 
 dark appearance, and is enveloped in that blue haze, or atmos- 
 phere, so peculiar to our Blue Hills at Milton. In the rear of 
 this table-land, perhaps an eighth of a mile away, is Arthur's 
 Seat, 822 feet above the sea-level, — 247 feet higher than the 
 table-land of the Crags. The macadamized avenue continues 
 as far as this, and from the summit are visible twelve counties 
 and innumerable mountain peaks, and among them the Gram- 
 pian Hills. 
 
 The Old City lies stretched out from the highlands, and it is 
 entertaining to the most ardent antiquary, although great changes 
 have taken place. Here are buildings varying from four to ten 
 stories in height, with gables to the street, and over-jutting 
 stories in abundance. We think of this main street as it 
 must have been in the days of the Stuarts, when these pro- 
 jecting gables, over-jutting windows, and hanging stairs were 
 gayly decorated with flags and streamers, and the roadway
 
 EDINBURGH. 225 
 
 was thronged with spectators as some royal pageant passed 
 along. 
 
 Peculiar to this street are its closes, or wynds. These are 
 spaces in the rear of the front buildings, surrounded by 
 tenements, and having a contracted opening from the main street. 
 They are occupied by a low class of people, but were formerly 
 the residences of distinguished persons. 
 
 Riddle's Close is one, in which David Hume began his 
 History of England, though he finished it in another part of 
 the city, Jack's Land, in the Canongate. At the end of the 
 place is a house once belonging to Bailie MacMoran, who 
 was shot dead by the high-school boys in 1598, when he was 
 attempting to restore subordination during a barring-out. 
 
 Farther down is Brodie's Close, named for Deacon Brodie, 
 who was executed for a daring burglary in 1788. Till the 
 very eve of his trial he was a citizen of renown, considered 
 exemplary and pious ; but it was proved beyond question that 
 for years he had been concerned in extensive robberies. 
 
 Lady Stair's Close is near by, and is named for Lady 
 Elizabeth Stair. While her first husband, Viscount Primrose 
 was abroad, that singular event happened which is so well 
 described in Sir Walter Scott's story, "My Aunt Margaret's 
 Mirror." She occupied the house in the close where the date, 
 1622, is over the doorway. 
 
 Baxter's Close contains the first lodging occupied by Robert 
 Burns, in 1 786. He stayed with his friend John Richmond, who 
 was a law student and clerk, and they two were the only 
 persons in the house. On the opposite side is a house, bearing 
 on its front, in Gothic letters, one of those legends that the custom 
 of those days sanctioned : 
 
 BLISST — BE — THE — LORD — IN — HlS — GIFTIS — 
 FOR — NOV — AND — EviR. 
 
 Near this spot is the chapel called the Maison Dieu. It was 
 in this that the General Assembly met in 1578, when perpetual 
 banishment was given to high ecclesiastical titles. The act was 
 
 as follows : — 
 
 It is here concludid that Bischopes sould be callit be thair awin 
 names, or be the names of Breither in all tyme coming, and that 
 lordlie name and authoritie be banissed from the kirk of God, quhilk 
 hes bot ae Lord Chryst Jesus. 
 
 In this chapel, in 1661, the martyred Marquis of Argyle lay in 
 state for some days, till at length his body was buried at Kilmun 
 
 '5
 
 226 SCOTLAND. 
 
 and his head affixed to a gable of the Tolbooth, an old building, 
 once the Parliament House, but then a prison. 
 
 The church of all churches in Edinburgh is St. Giles's. Many 
 repairs and restorations have been made upon it, so that only a 
 portion of the tower retains its original design. The first men- 
 tion of the venerable edifice is in the charter of David II., in 
 1359. The structure was large and cruciform, and after the 
 Reformation the four parts were appropriated to various uses. 
 One was devoted to religious services, and it was here that the 
 Solemn League and Covenant of the Scotch Covenanters was 
 sworn to and subscribed by the Parliament, the General Assembly, 
 and the Commissioners, in 1643. Another part was used as a 
 prison. The town council used to meet in it ; the town clerk 
 held his office here, and a transept was used for the police. A 
 writer says of it : — 
 
 The city corporation treated it like a carpet-bag, which could 
 never be crammed so full but that room might be made for some- 
 thing more, which could not be put elsewhere. 
 
 So earnest were they to utilize — we may say secularize — the 
 old structure, that even the spaces on the outside, between the but- 
 resses, were from a. d. 1555 down to 181 7, a period of 262 
 years, filled in with small shops, whose chimneys belched smoke 
 against the old edifice. 
 
 This was the parish church of Edinburgh at the Reformation, 
 and is celebrated as the place where John Knox made his 
 appeals to the piety and patriotism of the metropolis, — 
 appeals which, more than all other means, established the Re- 
 formation not only in this country, but the civilized world over. 
 An exciting scene took place here in 1637. Archbishop Laud 
 had arranged for the introduction of the liturgy, to establish by 
 authority the service of the Church of England. As the custom 
 was, Jenny Geddes brought a stool with her to church, and 
 when the obnoxious prayers were begun, and the Bishop of 
 Edinburgh had just requested the Dean to read the Collect 
 for the day, Jenny arose and exclaimed : " Colic, said ye ; the 
 Devil colic the wame o' ye ; wud ye say Mass at my lug? " and 
 she sent her stool flying at the Dean's head. The famous stool is 
 still preserved in the Antiquarian Museum. 
 
 The ancient cemetery of the church is now covered by the 
 second House of Parliament, and used as a court-house. John 
 Knox died Nov. 24, 1572. He was buried in the burial- 
 ground not far from the church. This large area is now the
 
 EDINBURGH. 227 
 
 approach to the court-house, and is paved with large flagstones. 
 As nearly as can be ascertained, this burial-place is designated 
 by the letters J. K., cut in one of these stones ; and this is the 
 only monument that Edinburgh can show for one of her greatest 
 citizens. Over the grave of Knox was once a stone with that 
 celebrated epitaph by Regent Morton : — 
 
 Here lies he who never feared the face of man. 
 
 On the outer walls of St. Giles's is a monument to John 
 Napier, who died here April 4, 161 7, and was celebrated as the 
 inventor of logarithms. 
 
 The Tolbooth was originally a parliament house, and at last a 
 prison. It is referred to in Sir Walter Scott's " Heart of Mid- 
 lothian," and is marked as the northwest corner of St. Giles's by 
 the figure of a heart cut in the pavement. 
 
 The house in which Knox resided is one of the quaintest 
 imaginable. It is not far from St. Giles's, and is very irregular 
 in outline, of a dark brown color, three and a half projecting 
 stories in height. He occupied it from 156010 1572, when he 
 died in the 6 7th year of his age. Over the door is the inscrip- 
 tion : — 
 
 Lufe God abuf all, and ye nychtbour as yiself. 
 
 One can imagine some of the remarkable questions here con- 
 sidered, for matters pregnant with great issues were held in this 
 building. At one time the care of all the Scotch churches, and 
 even of the nation itself, rested heavily on the spirit of John 
 Knox ; but he was not often the morose fanatic he is sometimes 
 represented. Few men enjoyed social intercourse more than 
 he, or more readily availed themselves of an opportunity for its 
 enjoyment. A few days before his death he desired his servant 
 to tap a cask of wine that had been presented to him, that he 
 might share it with friends who were paying him a visit, remark- 
 ing that he was "not likely to tarry till it be finished." We 
 must content ourselves with an extract from the Diary of James 
 Melville, in which he gives a graphic description of his preach- 
 ing, and more especially that of his last days : — 
 
 In the opening of his text he was moderat the space of an halff 
 houre : but when he enterit to application, he made me sa to grew 
 and tremble, that I could nocht hald a pen to wryt. Mr. Knox 
 waldsumtyme come in and repose him in our college-yard, and call 
 us scholars to him, and bless us, and exort us to know God and 
 His wark in our country, and to stand by the guid caus. I saw
 
 228 SCOTLAND. 
 
 him everv d.iy in his doctrine [preaching] go hulie and fear [cau- 
 tiously] with a furring of martriks about his neck, a staff in the 
 ane hand, and guid godlie Richart Ballenden, his servand, holdin 
 up the other oxtar, from the abbey to the paroche kirk, and by the 
 said Richart and another servand, lifted up to the pulpit, where he 
 behovdit to lean at his first entrie, but or he had done with his 
 sermon, he was sa active and vigorous that he was like to ding that 
 pulpit in blads and flee out of it. 
 
 As early as i 746 a theatre was established in Edinburgh, and 
 the church of those days, intensely conservative though it was, 
 rather encouraged than opposed it, for Dr. Carlyle says : — 
 
 When Mrs. Siddons first appeared in Edinburgh during the sit- 
 ting of the General Assembly, the court was obliged to fix all its 
 important business for the alternate days when she did not act, as 
 the younger members of the clergy, as well as the laity, took their 
 stations in the theatre on those days by three in the afternoon. 
 
 On St. John Street near by, Smollett, the historian and novel- 
 ist for a time resided with his sister, Mrs. Telfer. The next 
 building to this was the Canongate Kilwinning Lodge, where 
 Robert Burns, poet-laureate to the lodge, was made a Royal 
 Arch Mason. At No. 13 lived Lord Monboddo and his beau- 
 tiful daughter, Miss Burnet, whose death Burns so touchingly 
 commemorated. Lord Monboddo anticipated Darwin, for he 
 propounded the theory that the human family had ascended 
 from the monkey. His contemporaries were not disposed to 
 favor his opinions, which exposed the noble lord to the jocular 
 request, " Show us your tail, Monboddo." At No. 10 was the 
 residence of James Ballantine, the printer of the first editions 
 of the Waverley Novels, whose commercial failure involved Sir 
 Walter Scott, as a partner, in the anxieties which beclouded the 
 best years of his life, and compelled him to overtask his strength 
 in the honorable ambition to " owe no man anything." Ballan- 
 tine was in the habit of giving a great dinner at this house on the 
 occasion of every new publication by Sir Walter, and therefore 
 it is linked with the memory of most of Scott's literary contem- 
 poraries, who, with the Duke of Buccleuch, were usually invited 
 to the feast. At Panmure Close the celebrated Adam Smith 
 lived for twelve years, and died July 8, 1 790. 
 
 Before closing this account of places of especial interest — 
 and we have spoken of but one of a thousand — we must name 
 what is called the Abbey Sanctuary, the only one remaining in 
 Scotland. This is a large territory, in the vicinity of Holyrood 
 Palace, and includes the whole range of Arthur's Seat, Salisbury
 
 EDINBURGH. 229 
 
 Crags, and the Queen's Park. It was set apart centuries ago, 
 as a district into which poor but honest debtors might flee for 
 safety from imprisonment. So long as they could prove that 
 they were not fraudulent bankrupts, they were safe in this land 
 of refuge, and on the Sabbath they could go over the city, 
 wherever they pleased, until sunset. This freedom naturally 
 tempted some of them to transgress the hour, and they were 
 then in peril of the bumbailiffs ; but history says that " as the 
 bailiffs would no more dare to cross the sacred strand than a 
 witch can pursue its victim over a running stream, there were 
 often tremendous treats at the foot of Canongate." On one 
 such occasion the fugitive fell just as he was at the strand, or 
 boundary line. His body was on the safe side, but his legs were 
 captured, and held by the bailiffs till an arrangement was made 
 for his temporary relief. The question of jurisdiction came up in 
 Parliament, and after much grave discussion it was decided and 
 resolved that, " as the bailiff could do nothing with a man's legs 
 unless he had the body they belonged to, the debtor must be 
 allowed to take his legs along with him." 
 
 Sir Walter Scott's residence for some years was No. 39 Castle 
 Street, and a literary Frenchman has remarked that " it was a 
 right number for Sir Walter, as it was fitting that the Three Graces 
 and Nine Muses should take their station there." It was in this 
 house that occurred the ludicrous incident which Sir Walter 
 utilizes in the " Bride of Lammermoor," when he represents the 
 faithful Caleb Balderstone as excusing the non-appearance of 
 dinner by the fact of a fall of soot down the chimney. Sir Wal- 
 ter had invited numerous guests to dinner. As they were chat- 
 ting together the butler entered with a face like that of him 
 " who drew Priam's curtain in the dead of night." Beckoning 
 to his master he informed him of the catastrophe which had 
 taken place. Sir Walter carried his guests to Oman's Hotel in 
 Charlotte Square, where the mishap added zest to the banquet 
 thus speedily prepared. 
 
 The castle is not only interesting to Scotland, but to the civ- 
 ilized world. Burns says of it : — 
 
 There, watching high the least alarms, 
 Thy rough, rude fortress gleams afar; 
 
 Like some rude veteran, grav in arms, 
 And marked with man) a & -amy scar; 
 
 Tli' ]" md( rOUi wall and massy bar, 
 
 1 , 'cr 1 1" 1 ugged rock, 
 
 I lave oft will: rig '.\ 11, 
 
 And oft repelled the invader's bhock."
 
 230 SCOTLAND. 
 
 Castle Rock, on which it is built, is a very high elevation at the 
 upper end of the Old City, and has the almost undisputed honor 
 of having been occupied by a native tribe long before the Roman 
 Conquest. St. Margaret's Chapel is older than 1373, in whii h 
 year Sir William Kirkcaldy, who held the fortress for Queen 
 Mary, was compelled by his garrison to surrender to the com- 
 bined forces of the Scotch and English, but not till after the 
 fortress was laid in ruins. The barracks adjoining the castle — 
 now a portion of the structure, an ugly pile, half house and half 
 factory in appearance — was erected in 1796. This structure 
 being one of the four fortresses of Scotland which, by the Treaty 
 of Union, were to be kept fortified, is always occupied by a 
 regiment of the line. There is but one approach to it, and that 
 is by the main avenue up from the old part of the city, which 
 ends in a square called the Half Moon Battery. This is a level 
 plain of the form indicated by its name, and contains an acre 
 graded with clean gravel. Salutes are fired on public occasions, 
 and a daily gun, at 1 p. m., marks the Greenwich time. This is 
 fired by means of a wire stretching over the city from the Royal 
 Observatory at Calton Hill. The sound can be so distinctly 
 heard on a calm day that it is the regulator of time for a circle 
 of forty miles' diameter. Admittance is gained by passing over 
 a drawbridge across the moat, once filled with water, but now 
 used as a playground by the soldiers. The castle is open to the 
 public on payment of a shilling. The old dark stone walls tower 
 up, castle-like, before us, — sombre, massive, aged, and varied in 
 outline. The structural assemblage is what we had imagined a 
 large castellated fortress to be. We walk over the bridge, and 
 through the Portcullis Arch, above which is the old State Prison, 
 where the Marquis of Argyle and other illustrious captives were 
 confined previous to their execution. The last state prisoners 
 lodged here were Watt and Downie, accused of high treason in 
 1794, the former being executed. The gate passed, we are met 
 by one of the guides, who leads us through the contracted 
 grounds and into the building. First comes the Crown Room, 
 where the regalia are kept. These consist of a crown, a sceptre, 
 a sword of state, and a silver rod-of-office, supposed to be that 
 of the Lord Treasurer. They were long thought to be lost ; 
 but, after lying in an oak chest from the date of the union with 
 England in 1707, they were restored to the light in 1818, chiefly 
 through the instrumentality of Sir Walter Scott, the Prince Regent 
 having granted a commission for a search of the Crown Room. 
 The Scotch people are justly proud of these symbols of their
 
 EDINBURGH. 231 
 
 independence, these relics of a long line of monarchs, beginning 
 with the hero of Bannockburn. A part of the crown, at least, 
 was worn by Robert Bruce ; and, not to mention other sover- 
 eigns, it encircled the brows of Queen Mary, her son James VI., 
 and her grandson Charles I. The sword was a gift from Pope 
 Julius II. to James IV. 
 
 In Queen Mary's Room that lady was delivered, June 19, 
 1566, of her son James VI. of Scotland, afterward James I. of 
 England. This part of the castle was built by the Queen the 
 year preceding, for her palace, and so is 317 years old. There 
 is a vaulted dungeon below this room, partly excavated in the 
 solid rock ; and at the south side of the castle there are other 
 dungeons, in which were confined prisoners taken in the wars of 
 the First Napoleon. 
 
 The miniature chapel of Queen Margaret stands on the 
 highest part of the castle rock. The pious queen of Malcolm 
 Canmore probably erected the chapel, and she certainly wor- 
 shipped there till her death, Nov. 17, 1093, almost eight hun- 
 dred years ago. It is a complete church, but measures only 
 16^ feet long, and io£ feet wide within the nave. It looks 
 inexpressibly ancient, but is in excellent preservation. 
 
 The old cannon, Mons Meg, stands on the battery. It is 
 large and peculiarly formed, with a heavy wooden carriage, con- 
 siderably decorated with carvings. It is commonly reported to 
 have been made at Mons, France, in 1476 ; but several authori- 
 ties in archaeology, including Sir Walter Scott, maintain that 
 there is good evidence of its having been made in Scotland, and 
 that it was forged at Castle Douglas for James II. by McKim, 
 a local blacksmith, when the king was besieging the Castle of 
 Thrieve. The maker called the cannon Mollance Meg, the first 
 word being the name of the estate given him by the grateful 
 monarch because of its manufacture, and Meg being the name 
 of his wife. It was injured when firing a salute in honor of the 
 Duke of York's visit in 1682. In 1684 it was removed to the 
 Tower of London, but it was restored to the castle in 1829, by 
 order of George IV. 
 
 A may readily be imagined, there are good views of the entire 
 city and its surroundings. The ( lastle Ksplanade was for cen- 
 turies the promenade of the citizens of Old Edinburgh ; and as 
 SU< h it is referred to, with King's Park and Leith Pier, in various 
 art-, for the better observance of the Lord's Day. It has often 
 been the scene of public executions. I'oret, the vicar of Dol 
 lar, and others of the early Reformers were here burnt at the
 
 232 SCOTLAND. 
 
 stake during the persecution raised by Mary of Guise and the 
 Romish hierarchy. Language does not suffice to express our 
 regret as we think of what we have not spoken of, as the sub- 
 urbs also are full of charms ; but we must forego all, and take 
 the train for Melrose, where we arrived at 1 2 o'clock Thursday, 
 June 6, after a ride of an hour and a half. We are now on our 
 way back to London by a somewhat circuitous route, and mainly 
 in a southerly direction, on the east side of England.
 
 MELROSE. 233 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 MELROSE — ABBOTSFORD. 
 
 THE ride from Edinburgh is through a farming district, 
 and strongly reminds one of southern New England. As 
 the reader anticipates, we are to stop at Melrose for two 
 purposes ; to visit the ruins of its abbey, and to make the short 
 tour of five miles to Abbotsford. The town of Melrose is intensely 
 rural and charming. In 1851 it had a population of 7,487. It 
 has a number of small and comfortable hotels, and carriages are on 
 hire at reasonable prices. There are avenues for rambling ; and 
 at the border-line is a grand hill, which stretches along the entire 
 length of the village. The road winds along the hill at a good ele- 
 vation, and displays to advantage the valley of the Tweed and the 
 hills on the opposite side, from three to five miles away. In the 
 level parts of the great valley the land is under excellent cultiva- 
 tion, though largely devoted to grazing. The groves, the heavy 
 woodlands, and the single trees which remain from the primeval 
 forest are arranged with scrupulous care and a view to the pic- 
 turesque. It would seem that one like Scott could not help being 
 inspired by scenes like these. As one considers beautiful Edin- 
 burgh, he gets the impression that there is the more befitting 
 residence for the great romancer; but once in Melrose, and 
 on the top of these lovely hills, he feels that here Scott was in 
 his element. 
 
 Our first step was to go to a hotel, dine, and determine the 
 proper course for sight-seeing. Talking the matter over with 
 our hostess we were advised to join a party of two or three 
 others, take a team, and go first to Abbotsford, and stop on 
 our way back at the abbey, which was in fact but a few minutes' 
 walk from the hotel. The advice was accepted, and we were 
 : on the way to Abbotsford. 
 
 We passed through several streets, and into the suburbs ; then, 
 over pleasant roads, by beautiful farms, the lovely Tweed more 
 
 of the time in view ; and oext, through narrow lanes, till 
 we came in sight of Abbotsford. The place has a low look, for
 
 234 SCOTLAND. 
 
 it is on the slightly elevated part of the meadow, in a northern 
 parish of Melrose. Sir Walter bought the estate in 1811, being 
 then at the age of forty. He soon after rebuilt the mansion, 
 enlarging it as his fortunes permitted. He named it from an 
 adjoining ford, called the Abbot's Ford, on the River Tweed, 
 which here is a small stream that runs through the estate. It 
 is unite sluggish in summer, about thirty feet wide, but greatly 
 swollen by freshets. The house is large, and low in general 
 appearance. It is built of gray limestone, is very irregular in 
 castellated outline, with numerous small towers and gables. It 
 is so low that we can look down upon it from the travelled road. 
 The estate is approached by a lane from the main road. The 
 garden is walled in, and the meadow-land outside reaches to 
 the river. The external walls of the house and garden have 
 built into them relics of ancient abbeys and carvings from old 
 castles. At the decease of Sir Walter, Sept. 21, 1832, the build- 
 ing was occupied by James Hope Scott, Esq. ; and his wife, the 
 sole surviving daughter of Sir Walter, lived there until her death, 
 Oct. 26, 1858. It then went by inheritance to their daughter, 
 but during her minority it was let for the use of a Roman Cath- 
 olic seminary. On the day of our visit we found her in posses- 
 sion ; but during the larger part of the day visitors are admitted 
 to the principal rooms of the first story. 
 
 The business affairs appear to be managed by a matron who, 
 after taking our shillings, explains, systematically and hurriedly, 
 the various objects of interest for about half an hour, — all the 
 time she can afford, and as much perhaps as we should give if 
 standing in her place. The house is a source of great revenue, 
 for no pleasant day passes without visitors. In the reception- 
 room we await the return of the maiden, who is just then guid- 
 ing another party. They come into the room wearing an ex- 
 pression that says they have seen, if they have not conquered. 
 They wend their way slowly out of the grounds, up the narrow 
 lane, to their carriages, and then, though breathing freer, they 
 continue so absorbed in admiration that they have no energy 
 to expend in regrets over the shortness of their stay. The 
 experience of one party is that of all who have brains to com- 
 prehend the facts. A visit to Abbotsford is like a flash of light- 
 ning, which, for the moment, lights up miles of landscape, and 
 then leaves the beholder to mentally repicture what is still 
 there, but veiled from his view. An experience like this was 
 ours at Strasburg, where a momentary light from our high hotel 
 window exhibited the cathedral, the lofty roofs of the houses,
 
 ABBOTSFORD. 235 
 
 and the storks standing on one leg on the chimney-tops. Brief 
 was our half-hour at Abbotsford, but it was enough to write the 
 spot indelibly upon memory's tablets. 
 
 But we now follow our guide, and are ushered first into the 
 study. This is a room not far from twenty feet square and fif- 
 teen feet high. It is finished in oak, and has a heavy wrought 
 ceiling of the same material. On one side is a coal grate, sur- 
 rounded by a red marble mantel, with a lamp upon it, and a 
 small marble obelisk monument. The grate, fire-screen, and 
 poker remain as they were fifty-one years ago. At the centre of 
 the room is the mohagany desk at which he sat, — plain and flat- 
 topped. It has five drawers on each side, with an opening for 
 the sitter's feet between the rows. The armchair is near it, — a 
 good-sized comfortable chair, and covered with light-brown 
 leather. The wall-spaces are filled with books, and a light cast- 
 iron gallery extends partly around the room. Above this gallery 
 are other reference books. On the side opposite the chimney, 
 in front of a window, is a sort of casket, having a plate-glass 
 top. It needs not that the maid should tell us that here are the 
 last clothes worn by the poet. A well written paper so states, 
 but the pictures of him have long before given the information. 
 For their description we appeal to our note-books. At the left 
 are the shoes, — large, thick, and made of coarse leather. They 
 are moderately low-cut, much strained by his high instep, well 
 blacked, and considerably worn. They have no binding or 
 lining, and are tied with leather strings laced through four or five 
 holes. In the centre is a well ironed and carefully folded pair 
 of pants, once black and white, but now yellowish plaid, — the 
 plaids a scant quarter-inch square ; and there is the large waist- 
 coat with alternating brown and white stripes, perhaps a sixteenth 
 of an inch wide, and running lengthwise. Next there is a large 
 white and wide-brimmed stove-pipe fur hat, with rather a short 
 nap. It shows hard usage, for there are a number of dents in it. 
 Finally, there is a dark-blue frock-coat, — said to have gilt but- 
 ton-, but they are folded out of sight. 
 
 How pleasing it would be to pass into a reverie in this great 
 presence ! We pass into the splendid and unusual library. The 
 ceiling has oak mouldings and deep panels, said to be copies 
 from an ancient castle. The sides are covered with books from 
 floor nearly to ceiling. The furniture is rich and various, mu< h 
 of it presented by distinguished men. In a square showcase on 
 a table are expo ed for exhibition small articles that wrere given 
 Walter by kings, queens, and other persons of noble blood.
 
 23C SCOTLAND. 
 
 Among them are snuff-boxes, — gold, silver, ivory, pearl, shell, 
 and papier-mache. The floor is of polished oak, and without 
 carpets. The library is not far from twenty-five feet wide, forty- 
 five long, and fifteen feet high. 
 
 We next pass into the dining-room, which is about twenty 
 feet wide and thirty feet long, and is the one in which the great 
 owner breathed his last. It also has an oak floor, and is with- 
 out furniture, save a few chairs for the use of visitors. At one 
 end is a large bay-window, looking out on the great lawn, 
 extending from the house to the Tweed. It adds a peculiar 
 interest to know that Sir Walter so loved nature that, when he 
 saw the great consummation approaching, he desired to be re- 
 moved from his chamber to this room, where he might once 
 more gaze upon this scene and his favorite river, which was 
 flowing away like his own life. A couch was brought, and placed 
 against the side wall, with its foot towards the window, and there 
 the silver cord was loosed, the golden bowl broken, the pitcher 
 shattered at the fountain, the wheel broken at the cistern, and 
 the poet was no more a mortal. 
 
 The temptation is resistless to say a few words about Scott's 
 previous life. He had become worn down with his attempts 
 to earn enough to meet the claims made against him, $400,000, 
 in consequence of the failure of his publisher, Ballantine. At 
 first he left Abbotsford and went to London to do this work. 
 Becoming a mere wreck of his former self, he went to the 
 shores of the Mediterranean ; but at last, when hope deferred 
 had made the heart sick, he returned to London, went to a small 
 hotel, the St. James, at 76 Jermyn Street, and there passed three 
 melancholy weeks before going to his home on the Tweed. 
 Mr. Lockhart, who was with him, gives the following graphic 
 account : 
 
 When we reached the hotel, he recognized us with many marks 
 of tenderness, but signified that he was totally exhausted ; so no 
 attempt was made to remove him farther, and he was put to bed 
 immediately. To his children, all assembled once more about him, 
 he repeatedly gave his blessing in a very solemn manner, as if 
 expecting immediate death; but he was never in a condition for 
 conversation, and sank either into sleep or delirious stupor upon 
 the slightest effort. 
 
 Mr. Ferguson, who was seldom absent from his pillow, says : — 
 
 When I first saw Sir Walter, he was lying on the second-floor- 
 back room of the St. James Hotel in Jermyn Street, in a state of 
 stupor, from which, however, he would be roused for a moment
 
 ABBOTSFORD. 237 
 
 by being addressed ; and then he recognized those about him, but 
 immediately relapsed. I think I never saw anything more magni- 
 ficent than the symmetry of his colossal bust, as he lay on the 
 pillow with his chest and neck exposed. During the time he was 
 in Jermyn Street he was calm but never collected, and in general 
 was either in absolute stupor or in a waking dream. He never 
 seemed to know where he was, but imagined himself to be still in 
 the steamboat. The rattling of carriages and the noises of the 
 street sometimes disturbed this illusion, and then he fancied him- 
 self at the polling of Jedburgh, where he had been insulted and 
 stoned. ... At length his constant yearnings to return to Abbots- 
 ford induced his physicians to consent to his removal, — a consent 
 which, the moment it was notified to him, seemed to infuse new 
 vigor into his frame. It was on a calm, clear afternoon of the 7th 
 of July [1832] that every preparation was made for his embarkation 
 on board the steamboat. He was placed on a chair by his faithful 
 servant, Nicholson, half-dressed, and loosely wrapped in a quilted 
 dressing-gown. He requested Lockhart and myself to wheel him 
 towards the light of the open window, and we both remarked the 
 vigorous lustre of his eye. He sat there silently gazing on space 
 for more than half an hour, apparently wholly occupied with his 
 own thoughts, and having no distinct perception of where he was, 
 or how he came there. He suffered himself to be lifted into his 
 carriage, which was surrounded by a crowd, among whom were 
 many gentlemen on horseback, who loitered about to gaze on the 
 scene. His children were deeply affected, and Mrs. Lockhart 
 trembled from head to foot and wept bitterly. Thus surrounded by 
 those nearest to him, he alone was unconscious of the cause or the 
 depth of their grief, and while yet alive seemed to be carried to his 
 grave. 
 
 He embarked on the steamer, and after a four days' sail, on 
 the nth of July his eye once more brightened as he caught 
 sight of the familiar waters of the Tweed, and when at length he 
 recognized the towers of his own Abbotsford, he sprang up in 
 the carriage with delight. He was carried to his chamber, where 
 he remained till his death on the 21st of September, 
 
 We have no apology to make for this digression, for Scott 
 has given to Scotland and English literature a new glory. 
 
 We now resume our walk over the house, and pass through 
 the museum, which is some twelve feet wide and forty feet long. 
 Various kinds of armor prevail, and many interesting things that 
 were presented to the " Lord of the domain." Fifty one years 
 are gone since the great poet was here, but all else rem tins as it 
 was. We sit down 111 hi-, study, as if waiting for him to come ; 
 and so real is .everything that, should the sound of his heavy 
 feet be heard in the hull, should he enter in person, the gulf
 
 238 SCOTLAND. 
 
 of years would as by magic be bridged over and forgotten. He 
 arranged this house only for his home ; but he unwittingly made 
 it a Jerusalem for countless pilgrims. 
 
 We i Kissed meditatingly up the lane, mounted the team, 
 and in spite of the clack of the driver, of hills and dales, — in 
 spite of anything material, — those unmaterial memories held 
 sway. We had been to Abbotsford, and its inspiration would 
 evermore be ours. 
 
 An odor or a sunset was never fully described, though some 
 can tell the story better than others. A lamp lighted from an- 
 other does not reduce the original flame, and so it is with visits 
 to any shrine. A million may go to Abbotsford, but it loses 
 nothing by these draughts of pleasure. 
 
 Our carriage ride ended, we are at Melrose Abbey. How 
 many times Sir Walter stood on this spot. His advice was : — 
 
 If thou would'st view fair Melrose aright, 
 Go visit it by the pale moonlight, 
 For the gay beams of lightsome day 
 Gild but to flout the ruins gray. 
 
 This we could not do, but we saw the abbey at the close of a 
 fine day, as the sun threw its rays aslant in long lines across the 
 grand ruins. We are met by a young maiden whose father has 
 charge of the premises. We pay our shilling to enter, and first 
 of all are impressed with the great beauty of the place. It is a 
 large church, once belonging to the abbey, the latter having long 
 since been destroyed. The nave, aisles, and transepts are roof- 
 less. Here and there, neatly piled against the walls, are fallen 
 stones that once were part of the edifice. The floor is covered 
 with that velvety grass which delights to take possession of 
 places like this ; and it is not to be blamed, for the grass is 
 emblematic of mortals who would do the same if they could. 
 The walls are solid and lofty, and a part of the groined ceiling 
 of the choir remains. The windows are perfect in their stone 
 tracery of mullions and transoms. Instinctively we look for the 
 great chancel with its east window, — and adore, and see the 
 force of Scott's description : — 
 
 The moon on the east oriel shone 
 Through slender shafts of shapely stone, 
 By foliaged tracery combined. 
 Thou wouldst have thought some fairy hand 
 'Twixt poplars straight the osier wand, 
 In many a freakish knot had twined ; 
 Then framed a spell when work was done 
 And changed the willow wreaths to stone.
 
 MELROSE. 239 
 
 In this wall, under this window, was buried die heart of Robert 
 Bruce. 
 
 Here are tombs of men too great to have their dust mingle 
 with common soil. We are delighted with the ivy, climbing 
 at random, — sometimes very thick and grand in its mantling 
 power. We pass out of the side door, and are in the burial- 
 ground of two or three acres. Not cared for by mortals, Nature 
 — in great unison with her possessions and conscious of her 
 sacred trust — prohibits the intrusion of rambling vine or un- 
 sightly weed. How varied are the views of tower and gable, of 
 buttress unbroken or in partial ruin ! Remove a stone, or repair 
 one, and you do injury. Here repose the ashes of monk and 
 nun, who centuries ago entered their free immortality. 
 
 The abbey was founded by David I. in 1136, and dedicated 
 to the Virgin Mary ten years after. It was occupied first* by 
 monks of the Cistercian order, who had come from Yorkshire. 
 In 1322, after a peaceable occupancy of 176 years, its quiet was 
 disturbed by the invasion of an army under the authority of 
 Edward II., and the building was greatly injured. Robert 
 Bruce soon after commenced its rebuilding, after the present 
 design. It was not favored, however, with long repose, for in 
 1385 it suffered again; but it was again repaired, and then 
 enjoyed a rest of 160 years. In 1545 it once more suffered 
 severely from English invaders. Again repaired, it remained 
 quiet for a time, but during the Reformation, under Cromwell, 
 its choicest sculptures were mutilated. To the shame of human 
 nature be it said, in later times many of its stones have been 
 carried away for the erection of other buildings ; but yet, after 
 full five centuries have flown, it remains one of the few grand and 
 satisfying examples of Gothic architecture in the world. 
 
 We leave the ruins for a ramble over the town. In the busi- 
 ness parts there is neatness and a limited commercial life. Then 
 we go to the rear, through one of the most romantic roads imag- 
 inable, and up the hillside for the views already described. We 
 had arranged to leave town that night, but the entire hill seemed 
 to beseech us to "Come up hither." We halted "between two 
 opinions." One of the hard questions was to decide whether to 
 go or to stay. Body and spirit were in antagonism ; but remem- 
 bering a long line of good places ahead, we urged our unwilling 
 feet to descend this hill of Zion, which yielded "a thousand 
 sacred sweets." If anything makes travelling companions mute, 
 it is such a condition. No jokes, no attempts to say smart 
 things, no more eulogistic talk about fine scenery are in order;
 
 240 SCOTLAND. 
 
 the effort is to try and forget we are losing it. The walk to a 
 station is not a Galop, but is rather a Dead March in such 
 a mood. 
 
 At 5 p. m. we take cars for Newcastle-on-Tyne, and so in a 
 few hours shall be out of Scotland, for we are on the border. 
 Dundee, Dunfermline, Aberdeen, are unvisited, — and Dry- 
 burgh Abbey, where Scott's ashes repose, though it is but five 
 miles away. Jedburgh Abbey also is unseen ; but we trust 
 the reader will some day go over this ground, and then he can 
 really sympathize with our loss.
 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 16
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 NEWCASTLE-ON-TYNE — DURHAM. 
 
 WE arrived in Newcastle at 10 p.m., after a five hours' 
 ride from Melrose. The city has quite a history, and 
 as we desired to break the long ride to Durham, we 
 were ready to stop here over night, for we made it a rule to re- 
 frain from night travel. 
 
 This is the chief town of old Northumberland, on the right 
 bank of the River Tyne, eight miles from its mouth, and has a 
 population of 128,443. ^ 1S built on three steep hills, although 
 between them are the business portions on level ground. It 
 extends two miles along the river, and is connected with Gates- 
 head, on the opposite side of the river, by a handsome stone 
 bridge. There are remains of ancient fortifications. The 
 streets are spacious, and there are many elegant buildings, but 
 there is that smoky condition characteristic of large manufac- 
 turing places. There are here fine buildings for public baths 
 and wash-houses, built in 1859. The High Level Bridge across 
 the Tyne was built by Robert Stevenson. It is supported by 
 six massive piers 124 feet apart, and has a carriage-way 90 feet 
 above the river; and 28 feet over that is the viaduct, 118 feet 
 above the water. The cost was $1,172,250. There is an anti- 
 quarian museum in the old castle tower, containing the largest 
 collection of lapidary inscriptions and sculptures in England. 
 The castle was built in 1080, by Robert, eldest son of William 
 the Conqueror. It has been restored in many parts. Though 
 very small, being scarcely more than a low tower some 75 feet 
 in diameter, it is one of the finest specimens of Norman ar< hi- 
 tecture in the kingdom. Situated at the junction of the principal 
 streets, and being readily seen from the station, the contrast 
 between the am icnt anil modern is impressive. 
 
 The harbor, now greatly improved, has a quay 1550 feet long. 
 The traffic is principally in bituminous coal, for which the city is 
 the greatest mart in the world ; heme the adage about the impro-
 
 244 ENGLAND. 
 
 priety of carrying coals to Newcastle. This trade has been import- 
 ant from ancient time, for the burgesses obtained from Henry III. 
 in 1239 — more than 644 years ago — "a license to dig coal," 
 and by the time of Edward I. the business had so increased 
 that Newcastle paid a tax of ^200. In 16 15 the trade had so 
 advanced as to employ 400 ships, and the traffic extended into 
 France and the Netherlands. 200,000 tons of coke are sent out 
 annually. Lead is also shipped in large quantities. The ore js 
 brought from Cumberland, and the northwestern Northumber- 
 land Hills, and also from Durham, and is here worked into pig- 
 lead, and manufactured into sheets and pipes. This trade is 
 even more ancient than the coal traffic. 
 
 About a mile from the place is the holy well of Jesus Mound, 
 now called Jesmond, which was formerly a favorite pilgrim resort. 
 During the reign of Charles I. the city was taken by the Scottish 
 army in 1640, and again in 1644. The Church of St. Nicholas 
 is an ancient but spacious structure of decorated English style, 
 having a tower and spire 193 feet high, of elegant and graceful 
 proportions. St. Andrew's Church is an ancient Norman edifice 
 with a large, low, embattled tower. There are other churches of 
 considerable renown, — such as All Saints, with a circular interior, 
 and Grecian steeple 202 feet high ; and last but by no means 
 least, the Roman Catholic Church of St. Mary, of magnificent 
 early English architecture. 
 
 At 9.30 a. m. of the next day, Friday, we left for 
 
 DURHAM, 
 
 where we arrived in an hour. In all England no more pictur- 
 esquely situated place exists, for it is embowered in trees, and 
 stands on a rocky hill, rising from the River Wear. On the 
 summit is the cathedral built of yellow stone. It has three towers 
 without spires, which, together with the roof and a part of the 
 church walls, rise imposingly out of the surrounding foliage. The 
 place has a population of 14,406. The river banks are skirted 
 by overhanging gardens with fine walks, beyond which the 
 houses rise above each other, till all are crowned by the cathe- 
 dral itself. To add an intensity of beauty, on the summit of a 
 rocky eminence near by are the remains of a Norman castle. 
 The division north of the castle contains most of the stores, and 
 has one of those English commercial conveniences, a market- 
 place. 
 
 Among the public buildings are a town-hall in the Tudor
 
 DURHAM. 245 
 
 baronial style, a theatre, seven parish churches, a school of 
 art, and a university. The old Church of St. Nicholas, now in 
 thorough repair, is one of the finest specimens of church archi- 
 tecture in the North of England. The old castle is opposite 
 the cathedral. It was founded by William the Conqueror, who 
 died Sept. 9, 1087, so that the structure is eight hundred years 
 old ; and was built for the purpose of maintaining the royal 
 authority in the adjacent district, especially by resisting the 
 inroads of the Scots. Many additions have been made to it, so 
 that it is now difficult to say which parts are old and which new ; 
 but no question exists in relation to the great antiquity of the 
 foundations and lower portions, and of the very ancient date of 
 some of the higher parts of much above them. For many years 
 it was the residence of the bishops of Durham, but of late has 
 been given up to the use of the university. 
 
 The See of Durham is the richest in England. The revenues 
 are very great, and one bishop left $1,000,000 at his decease a 
 few years ago. Collieries and railroads have given a powerful 
 impetus to this aristocratic place, which has now considerable 
 trade and large carpet manufactures. It has long been noted 
 for Durham Mustard, a commodity to be found in the best 
 groceries of America. 
 
 In the vicinity of Durham is Neville's Cross, erected by Lord 
 Neville, in commemoration of the defeat of David II. of Scot- 
 land, in 1346. There is also a Roman fortress, called the 
 Maiden Castle. 
 
 Durham is permeated and enveloped not only with a pleasure- 
 inspiring element, but with those aesthetic conditions which, 
 although obscured, here and there crop out in cathedral towns. 
 These latter words contain the secret of all this interest — 
 cathedral towns. Once England was absolutely controlled by 
 the Church. 
 
 There is a vast deal more in the expression Church and State, 
 than is generally understood by a young American. The Church, 
 both temporally and spiritually, was above king, prince, potentate, 
 or judge. This was distinctly claimed by a bull of Pope Urban, 
 and was acknowledged till the time of Henry VIII., who struck 
 it a death-blow by proclaiming himself Head of the Church. 
 How far this was in advance of the act of Richard Coeui de 
 Lion. — "the lion-hearted," who died April 6, 1 199, — who, when 
 he left for the I loly Land, placed his realm definitely in the hands 
 of the Bishop of Durham, where it had practically been for a Ion- 
 time before.
 
 246 ENGLAND. 
 
 Of course the all-absorbing object of interest is the cathedral 
 itself. As much soil is not covered by any other building in all 
 England of more historic renown. It is indeed a feast of 
 intellectual " wine on the lees, and well refined." It was founded 
 in 1093, and so was four hundred years old when the realm was 
 being disturbed by reports that Columbus was seeking aid for 
 the exploration of a new continent of doubtful existence. It is 
 507 feet long, and 200 feet wide at the transepts. It has a cen- 
 tral tower 214 feet high, and two others that are alike, at the 
 west end, facing down to the river, almost on the verge of the 
 cliff-like embankments. On account of its great height it is 
 commanding in appearance. These west towers are 143 feet 
 high, with a lofty gable between them. The whole west front is 
 elaborately finished, though not bold in detail. There is 
 great boldness of outline, though no deep and very distinct 
 ornamentation. The material is yellowish sandstone, somewhat 
 dingy, but plainly betraying its original tint. The edifice is 
 mainly of Norman architecture, but repairs and restorations have 
 been made ; and, according to usage, each new part was in the 
 style of architecture presented at the period of restoration, 
 — which was not restoration but alteration ; for there was really 
 no restoration of design, and sometimes not even a reproduction 
 oiform. All styles of ecclesiastical architecture are to be found 
 in one building, — from the Norman, down through the Early 
 English, to the latest or Perpendicular Gothic. This is illustra- 
 ted in Durham Cathedral, for here are examples of each style, 
 though the Norman prevails ; especially in the never over- 
 praised interior, where the ponderous round columns, with their 
 diagonal and lozenge decorations, and the huge round arches, 
 with splendid chevron mouldings, intersecting arches, — and 
 every contour and combination peculiar to the best of the old 
 Norman works, — exist in their perfection. 
 
 While the beautiful work at Winchester and York Minster, and 
 at Salisbury and Lincoln — in their soaring columns and lofty 
 arches, their rich traceries and decorations, their long lines of 
 groined ceilings, and (as at Salisbury and Lichfield) their grand 
 heavenward-pointing spires — suggest the Resurrection, and 
 the aspiration of humanity, and so do honor to Christianity as 
 distinguished from the low and grovelling tendency of Egyptian 
 or Grecian temple, or even Roman, — while Gothic architecture is 
 suggestive of these higher qualities, the solid columns and arches 
 of Norman Durham speak of eternity, and suggest that nothing 
 good dies. These two were the great steps taken by humanity
 
 DURHAM. 247 
 
 as it became Christianized. First came a consciousness of 
 existing good, and an accompanying desire to perpetuate it. 
 Next came aspiration, — a reaching out and up, after still 
 better life. 
 
 The Egyptian or Grecian mind was satisfied with things as 
 they were, and found consequent satisfaction in the low temple 
 of Edfu or the unpinnacled Parthenon. It was for the Chris- 
 tian aspiration to demand and only be partially satisfied with — 
 tall columns and lofty arches, high towers and spires, reaching 
 sometimes, like that at Salisbury, more than four hundred feet 
 toward 
 
 "The third heaven where God resides, 
 That holy happy place." 
 
 The ponderous pyramids of Egypt, the fantastic temples of 
 India, had height and breadth, but not a suggestion of anything 
 above and beyond themselves. They were, after all, only heaps 
 of material, plain like the pyramids, — or gorgeous and uncouth 
 Indian piles, having in view the honor of some earthly king or 
 some imaginary god, one among many. There was no attempt 
 to do honor to the " King of kings, and Lord of lords." 
 Nowhere were the contributions of the people concentrated for 
 their own good, and for the blessing of generations to come. 
 A cathedral embodies this idea. It is a connecting link be- 
 tween the old dispensation and the new ; and, unlike our Bible, 
 it has no blank leaves between the Old and New Testaments. 
 
 Two things in Durham Cathedral demand our particular 
 attention. One is the Sanctuary Ground, and the other is 
 Galilee Chapel at the west end. 
 
 Outside the cathedral, at the great northern side door, there 
 is a large and grotesque brass knocker, — a head with staring, 
 hollow eyes, and a ring in its mouth. In olden time a criminal, 
 fleeing from justice, who was able to reach and lift this knocker, 
 was safe from arrest. A monk was all the time stationed in- 
 side to open the door to every applicant. The ground-floor 
 of the northwestern tower was the sanctuary ground. A 
 work on the "Antiquities of Durham Cathedral" gives the 
 folli iwing statement : — 
 
 The culprit upon knocking at the ring affixed to the north door 
 
 was admitted without delay, and after confessing his crime, with 
 
 every minute circumstance connected with it, the whole <>t which 
 
 ommitted to writing in the presence of witnesses, a hell in the 
 
 ■ er ringing all the while, to give notice to the town that 
 some one had taken relume in the < lunch, there wab put upon him
 
 248 ENGLAND. 
 
 a black gown with a yellow cross upon its left shoulder, as a badge 
 of Cuthbert, whose girth, or peace, he had claimed. When thirty- 
 seven days had elapsed, if no pardon could be obtained, the male- 
 factor, after certain ceremonies before the shrine, solemnly abjured 
 his native land forever, and was straightway, by the agency of the 
 intervening parish constables, conveyed to the coast, bearing in 
 his hand a white wooden cross, and was sent out of the kingdom by 
 the first ship which sailed after his arrival. 
 
 The old knocker remains at its post, though centuries have 
 passed since it last rendered its sacred service, and was trem- 
 blingly grasped by a panting fugitive. We assumed this role, 
 but, fortunately or unfortunately, could not knock as a genuine 
 culprit could. 
 
 The Old Galilee is a room perhaps 55 feet by 75, divided by 
 columns and arches into five sections. The architecture is 
 decorated Norman, finely mixed with Early English, the Nor- 
 man, or circular arches resting on rather slender columns. It 
 was built by Bishop Pudsey in the twelfth century. In this 
 chapel are the remains of the Venerable Bede, and more vene- 
 rated dust reposes not in any cathedral. He was probably born 
 in Monkton in Durham, in 672, and died at Girvy, May 26, 
 735. He was educated in a monastery, and his learning and 
 ability as a scholar and writer were remarkable. He was or- 
 dained a priest at the age of thirty. His " Ecclesiastical History 
 of the English Nation" was a work of great labor, and is still the 
 most reliable authority on the early period of which it treats. 
 He compiled it from chronicles and traditions handed down in 
 the convents, and from miscellaneous testimony ; and it is re- 
 markably free from those exaggerations and contortions which fill 
 many books of later monkish historians. His other literary 
 labors were extraordinary, and his devotion to such work was 
 singularly enthusiastic. It is stated that during his final illness, 
 he continued to dictate to an amanuensis the conclusion of a 
 translation of St. John's Gospel into Anglo Saxon ; and that as 
 soon as he had completed the last sentence he requested the 
 assistant to place him on the floor of his cell, where he said a 
 short prayer, and expired as the last words passed his lips. In 
 the cathedral are copies of his " Historia Ecclesiastica," as first 
 printed in German in 1475 > others are in the British Museum 
 and in Paris. They were translated from the Latin into Anglo 
 Saxon by King Alfred in 1644, and into English in 1722, — and 
 many times since, the latest translation having been made in 
 1871.
 
 DURHAM. 249 
 
 It should be stated that pretended bones of Bede are scat- 
 tered throughout the world ; and though his monument is 
 here, but little if any of his mortal remains are beneath it. 
 Large volumes of manuscripts in his handwriting are in the 
 library of the cathedral, and they are of inexpressible in- 
 terest. It is related in the old chronicles that, being blind 
 during the latter days of his life, he was led one day by a dis- 
 sembling guide to a pile of rough stones, and told that there was 
 present a company of persons desiring to hear him preach. 
 Inclined to gratify their request he preached to them, and 
 when he finished, the stones, animated by divine power, ejacu- 
 lated, like an assembled multitude, " Deo gracias, Amen." 
 
 In this Galilee room are also the remains of St. Cuthbert, the 
 patron saint of the church, who died in 687. He was, in 644, 
 prior at Melrose Abbey. His austerity and fondness for monastic 
 life were remarkable, and in order to gratify his feelings he 
 retired to the Island of Fame. It was a very barren place, and 
 destitute of wood or water, but he dug wells and cultivated 
 grain. The fame of his holiness brought many visitors, among 
 them Elfleda, daughter of King Osway the Northumbrian, with 
 whom he condescended to converse through a window ; but for 
 more effectual seclusion from the self-invited crowd, he dug a 
 trench around his cabin and filled it with water. In 684 he was 
 induced to yield to the prayer of King Egfrid and accept the 
 bishopric of Hexam, and from this he removed to Lindisfarne. 
 After two years he resigned this office, so uncongenial to his 
 taste, and retired to end his life in his former hut on the Isle of 
 Fame, He died in it, and when the Danes invaded the ecclesi- 
 astical domain of Lindisfarne, the fleeing monks carried his 
 remains with them from place to place, till at last they were 
 deposited on the banks of River Wear, where a shrined convent 
 arose, then a church, and finally this cathedral at Durham. 
 
 The legends concerning him are among the literary treasures 
 of the cathedral, and by reason of the traditions as well as history 
 are not unworthily appreciated. No one dead has spoken more 
 i.illy to the living than he. His name and tame, as a great 
 intercessor with the Almighty, were for centuries a household 
 word. He was considered by the northern peasantry as the saint 
 of saints, and constant, tedious, and sacrificing pilgrimages 
 were made to his shrine. Bede says that his body was found 
 incorrupt eleven years after burial, and that it so continued. 
 The coffin was opened in 1837, and the corpse found to be en- 
 veloped in five silken robes. The eyes were of glass, movable
 
 250 ENGLAND. 
 
 by the least jar, and the hair was of a fine gold wire. These 
 things were done by deceptive priests, who annually pretended 
 to take or cut hair from his head, which they said grew immedi- 
 ately. This is not the St. Cuthbert who was a Benedictine monk, 
 a pupil of Bede, and who attended him in his last hours, and 
 finally wrote the memoir of his life. There was yet another 
 Cuthhert who was Bishop of Canterbury from 740 to 758. 
 
 The cathedral has hut few monuments, and these are not of 
 great interest. It is somewhat remarkable that monuments 
 seem to prevail in some cathedrals, and that there is an absent e 
 of them in the others. Some communities then, as in our own 
 day, appeared to consider the commemoration of the dead as 
 a religious duty, and others to neglect the practice, or con- 
 sider it hardly worthy of their attention. The places of New 
 England burial in their respective variety of care or neglect 
 attest this. 
 
 " For thus our fathers testified, — 
 
 That he might read who ran, — 
 
 The emptiness of human pride, 
 
 The nothingness of man." 
 
 This cathedral has had a long list of bishops, and among them 
 very distinguished men. The name Durham has an ecclesias- 
 tical charm to a churchman, and to him the phrase, " Bishop of 
 Durham," suggests honor, dignity, and renown. 
 
 Here once presided Bishop Poore, the famous architect of 
 the cathedral of Salisbury, lie was translated from that See to 
 this, and was bishop here from 1228 to 1237, when he died; 
 and then, in 131 1, Richard Kellow was elected bishop. He 
 brought with him an inflexible piety, but colored with the ex- 
 tremest humility of the cloister. He was celebrated for a steady 
 and unflinching sense of duty. The meanest vassal shared his 
 protection, and neither wealth nor rank could with him screen 
 a criminal from punishment ; and the proudest baron within his 
 bishopric was once obliged to submit to the public penance 
 imposed by a humble ecclesiastic, who, without forgetting his 
 duties, made the imposition, and was sustained by Kellow. 
 
 Richard Fox, the founder of Corpus Christi College at Oxford, 
 was bishop here from 1494 to 1501, when he was translated to 
 Winchester. He was afflicted with blindness for many years 
 before his death, but under the pressure of age and infirmity, 
 yet doing his work well, his spirit of integrity was yet unbroken ; 
 and when Cardinal Wolsey, desiring his place, wished him to 
 resign his bishopric, he replied that he could no longer distin-
 
 DURHAM. 251 
 
 guish black from white, yet he could discriminate right from 
 wrong, truth from falsehood, and could well discern the malice 
 of an ungrateful man. He then warned the proud favorite of 
 the king to beware, lest ambition should render him blind to his 
 surely approaching ruin ; and he bade him attend closer to the 
 king's legitimate business, and leave Winchester to her bishop. 
 The aged prelate died in 1528, and was buried in his own chapel 
 in 'Winchester Cathedral, where his tomb and its monument 
 exist as fine specimens of the latest style of Gothic architecture. 
 
 The cardinal was himself Bishop of Durham for six years, and 
 by reason of his grasping spirit and hold on the king, he was at 
 the same time Archbishop of York ; but at the death of Fox, the 
 longed-for chair was vacant ; he at once resigned York, and was 
 made Bishop of Winchester. He continued to hold the See of 
 Durham, but was never afterwards known to visit it. 
 
 It would be pleasant as well as instructing to review the life of 
 this remarkable man, but limits forbid. Other bishops could 
 with advantage be spoken of, — and they are many, and the 
 record is interesting, — but we must forbear. 
 
 We only say in closing, that very eminent and conspicuous 
 among them is the name of Joseph Butler, who was made Bishop 
 of Durham in 1 750, having been translated from the See of 
 Bristol. He was born in Wantage, May 18, 1692, and died at 
 Bath, while there on a visit in hope of recovering his health, 
 June 16, 1752. No man has possessed more strength of mind, 
 or better acuteness and clearness of reasoning than he, and of 
 this his well known " Analogy of Religion " is ample proof. Nor 
 have any excelled him in goodness of heart. He held the See 
 but eighteen months ; and, although in advanced years, he is 
 spoken of to this day as a person of genuine modesty and a nat- 
 ural sweetness of disposition. It is said that when engaged in 
 the more immediate work of his office, — preaching, — that a 
 divine illumination seemed to pervade his entire being, and to 
 fill the whole atmosphere. His pale and wan countenance was 
 ! up by a transfiguring light, as though the Holy Ghosl 
 were indeed speaking through him. 
 
 We must refrain from a long < Inscription of relics and espei la] 
 n here, but will name a small box in which 
 are three gold seal-rings, not long ago removed from the coffins 
 of bishops: one from the finger of Flumbard, who died in 1128; 
 one from William of St. Barbery, 1153 ] ami the other from 
 Galfred Rufus, 1140. Next, are rings and other ironwork from 
 St. Cuthbert'. ( othn : also, gold hair-wire, and parts of his robe.
 
 252 ENGLAND. 
 
 Books written by monks, and other things of moment and inter- 
 est, are in profusion. 
 
 We would speak of the remarkable marble pulpit just put in, 
 which cost $25,000, — of the elegant stained windows, of the 
 grand old carved reredos, with the great number of statuettes ; 
 but we must forbear, and now take leave of the grand old place 
 and of Durham itself. We have named but a few of the many 
 things of great interest and moment. As each of these chapters 
 terminates, there is painfully apparent a consciousness of what 
 has not been described or even named, as well as regrets at the 
 fact of a mere skeleton of description when the best thing has 
 been done. If, however, enough has been said, and left unsaid, 
 to create a taste for further reading, pursuit of information, con- 
 sultation of histories, cyclopaedias, and repositories of informa- 
 tion relating to these things, then our best work is done, and 
 our highest anticipations realized. And now at 3.45 p. m., this 
 same day of arrival, we leave for York, the seat of the celebrated 
 York Minster, of not only English celebrity but of world-wide
 
 YORKSHIRE. 253 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 YORKSHIRE — YORK — SHEFFIELD — LINCOLN. 
 
 WE are now leaving Durham for a ride of sixty-seven 
 miles to the city of York, the other fashionable me- 
 tropolis of England. The passage is through the 
 county of Yorkshire, which, for the combination of good agricul- 
 ture, population, manufactures, beauty of scenery, and historical 
 renown, is not excelled if equalled by any other county of Great 
 Britain. The people are peculiar, and have a dialect of their 
 own ; they are tall in stature, shrewd at bargains, and are tena- 
 cious of their own manners and customs. Here abound grand 
 mansions, and large tracts of land laid down as parks, and so we 
 find less uncared land than in any other part of England. 
 
 One cannot travel over this country and not think of the time 
 when William the Conqueror, by his hostility to the inhabiting 
 Saxons, caused destruction and ruin to prevail. History says : — 
 
 He wasted the land between York and Durham, so that for 
 threescore miles there was left in manner, no habitation for the 
 people, by reason whereof it laid waste and desert for nine or ten 
 years. The goodlie cities, with the towers and steeples set upon 
 a statelie height, and reaching as it were into the air; the beautiful 
 fields and pastures watered with the course of sweet and pleasant 
 rivers ; if a stranger should then have beheld, and also knowne 
 what they were before, he would have lamented. 
 
 We do not stop here, but can hardly fail to think of the 
 Conquerer himself. As he lay in the agonies of death he cried 
 out : — 
 
 Laden with many and grievous sins, O Christ, I tremble, and 
 being ready to be taken by Thy will into the terrible presence of 
 God, I am ignorant what I should do, for I have been brought up 
 in feats of arms even from a child. I am greatly polluted with the 
 effect of much blood. A royal diadem that never any of my pre- 
 decessors did bear I have gotten; and although manly greediness 
 on my triumph doth rejoice, V'-t inwardly a careful fear pricketh 
 and biteth me when 1 consider that in all these cruel rashness hath 
 raged.
 
 254 ENGLAND. 
 
 But we must leave these intervening lands and speak of the 
 famed city itself. 
 
 YORK. 
 
 This is Old York, while our New Amsterdam that was, Man- 
 hattan Island, is the New one. It is the capital of Yorkshire, 
 and situated on both sides of the River Ouse, at its junction 
 witli the River Foss, and is 175 miles from London. Its popu- 
 lation is 43,709. The river is crossed by a fine stone bridge, 
 while there are also several others of less repute. The city is 
 very compactly built. It is but three miles in circuit, and was 
 once entirely, and is now partly, surrounded by walls originally 
 erected by the Romans. It was entered by gates, four of which 
 remain as they were centuries ago. The streets are not very 
 wide, but are well paved and very neat, and the city presents a 
 solid and substantial appearance. It has a good commercial or 
 trade aspect in the market parts, and in the other portions has 
 a home-like atmosphere, and a very large number of hotels, for 
 the place is one of resort for fashionable winter life. It is the 
 emporium of style for the northern part of England, and in this 
 respect is hardly inferior to London. The buildings are mainly 
 of brick, three or four stories high. 
 
 Its history reaches far back into antiquity. During the Roman 
 dominion, York was the seat of the general government, and was 
 important while London was yet rude and semi-barbaric. Are 
 we fully prepared to realize that the Roman Emperor Septimus 
 Severus lived here, and here died in the year 212, or but 179 
 years after the death of Christ? Here also died in 306, Con- 
 stantius Cholorus, the father of Constantine the Great. 1577 
 years are gone since the death of the distinguished individual 
 named ! In the war with William the Conqueror, the citizens 
 joined with the Scots and Danes for his repulsion, but on their 
 defeat they razed their homes and city to the ground. It was 
 rebuilt, and was destroyed by fire in 1 137. During the great 
 massacre of the Jews, which took place in England after the 
 coronation of Richard L, several hundred Jewish inhabitants of 
 York, having in vain attempted to defend themselves in the cas- 
 tle, slew their wives and children, set fire to their houses, and 
 themselves perished in the flames. Lord Fairfax captured the 
 place from the Royalists in 1644, and in 1688 James II., for its 
 arbitrary measures in opposition to the crown, took away its 
 charter, and its fortunes and conditions then varied for more 
 than two thousand years. Indeed, its soil is classic ground.
 
 YORK. 255 
 
 Here the Emperor Hadrian, one of imperial Rome's distin- 
 guished ones, dwelt, more kingly and regal than has since lived 
 any king. Over these roads Severus, the great Emperor, has 
 passed, and on Stiver's Hill, west of the city, the funeral obse- 
 quies over his mortal remains took place. Here Constantine, 
 the first great Christian of many who came out of paganism, 
 also dwelt. Everywhere there is a classic renown. Do we, as 
 we are walking here on this fine summer day, comprehend the 
 scheme ? The birds in these trees sing as sweetly as in olden 
 time ; the sheep graze quietly on the outlying plains as they 
 did a thousand years ago. The shadows, made by passing 
 clouds, chase each other across our path as others did over 
 theirs. Here are the same sun and similar clouds, and birds 
 and trees, but the seasons of a thousand and a half of years in- 
 tervene. Millions of beings have lived and died. Their dust 
 has mingled with parent soil ; it has been caught up, and trans- 
 formed into plant and flower and tree ; and, passing through 
 fruit, or flesh of animal, into humanity, has gone back again and 
 become mingled, and out into life yet again, and its history has 
 been repeated in new organizations and bodies and forms. 
 
 We talk not of transmigration of soul, but we may say that 
 the process has developed a better phase of humanity ; and 
 these last productions are more imperial and royal than Ha- 
 drian, Septimus, or Constantine ; than William the Conqueror, 
 Edward the Confessor, than Cromwell, Jeffries, or Laud. Up- 
 ward and onward has been the march. The millennium has 
 come in this way, and humanity has marched with steady tread 
 towards it. Queen Victoria and Dean Stanley and John Bright 
 and Gladstone are the blossoms, or a flowering-out, — a grand 
 fruitage. In them, also, are the seed and germs of a yet greater 
 progress, and another day is to gather fruit from these later 
 trees, the leaves of which " are for the healing of the nations." 
 
 York gave birth, May 8, 1731, to Beilby Porteus, a distin- 
 guished prelate, who was chaplain to Seeker, the Archbishop of 
 1 -rbury, in 1 762, chaplain to George III. in 1769, Bishop 
 of Chester in 1776, and Bishop of London, 1787, where he pre- 
 sided till his death, May 14, 1808. And she is also honored 
 as being the birthplace of John Flaxraan, the renowned sculp- 
 tor, who w.is born July 6, 1755, and died at London, Dec. 9, 
 1826. Among his well-known produi tions are the monuments 
 of the poel Collins at Winchester Cathedral, of Lord Nelson 
 
 and of Howe, of Sir Joshua Reynolds, of Mansfield, and of 
 Kemble. In early days he supported himself by making de-
 
 256 ENGLAND. 
 
 signs for the Wedgewoods, manufacturers of celebrated pottery 
 and works of ceramic art ; and by-and-by he astonished the 
 world by his artistic illustration of Homer and yEschylus, and 
 afterwards of Dante. He was also the author of Scriptural com- 
 positions, — excelling in fine diction as well as in deep religious 
 fervor and pathos. 
 
 Here, a. d. 735, more than 1100 years ago, was born Flaccus 
 Albinus Alcuin, even for that early day an eminent scholar and 
 churchman, and a pupil of the Venerable Bede. He was a 
 schoolmaster and librarian at the cathedral ; and later, by invi- 
 tation of Emperor Charlemagne, in 780, he went to France, 
 probably to Aix la Chapelle, and opened a school, where his 
 instructions were attended by the Emperor and his court ; and 
 this school is presumed to be the germ of the present Univer- 
 sity of Paris. He was the intimate friend and confidential ad- 
 viser of the Emperor, and so even the destinies of nations are 
 traced directly to him. Although he was the most learned man 
 of his age, eloquent, pious, and renowned, yet his extreme mod- 
 esty and fineness of temperament and nature caused him to 
 shrink from the responsibilites of a bishop ; and, though re- 
 peatedly urged to permit his ordination as such, he peremptorily 
 refused, and would accept no higher office than that of deacon. 
 He died lamented as few ever can be, May 19, 804, 1079 years 
 ago. 
 
 Here was born in 1606, and died in 1682, Sir Thomas Her- 
 bert, the renowned traveller. Anticipating Stanley two and a 
 half centuries, he published in 1634 his celebrated work, " Some 
 Years' Travels into Africa, and the Great Asia, especially the 
 Territories of the Persian Monarchy." He was made a baron 
 by Charles II. Though a stanch and avowed Presbyterian, so 
 kind was he, and so courteous in disposition and manner, that 
 Charles I. retained him as one of his attendants to the last, long 
 after all the others had been dismissed. We close the list of 
 notable men by naming but one more of a vast number, — 
 William Etty, the painter, born here March 10, 1787. He was 
 a pupil of Sir Thomas Lawrence, and for a time unsuccessful ; 
 but in 183 1 one of his pictures was admitted to the exhibition 
 given by the Royal Academy, and this brought him before the 
 public as an artist of ability. It was his " Cleopatra's Arrival at 
 Celicia," in which the nude female form was depicted with re- 
 markable correctness and voluptuous glow of color. He is now 
 considered to have been one of the chief artists of the English 
 school. He wrote his own biography, which was published in
 
 YORK. 257 
 
 the London Art Journal in 1849. He died at York, Nov. 13, 
 of the same year, at the age of sixty-two. The temptation is 
 irresistible to add that in Keighly, a near town, on the 8th of 
 December, 1823, was born that distinguished preacher and em- 
 inent lecturer, Rev. Robert Collyer, late of Unity Church, Chi- 
 cago, now of the Church of the Messiah, New York ; so that, by 
 personal ties, Old and New York are worthily connected. Of 
 the noble record of men of Yorkshire, there is none of which 
 she may entertain a juster pride, than that of our great American 
 divine. 
 
 We now leave York as a city, and her especial celebrities, to 
 speak of two things of great interest to all tourists, viz : the 
 remains of the abbey, and the famed York Minster. The Ab- 
 bey of St. Mary, now a mass of elegant ruins, is not far from the 
 Minster. It was founded by William Rufus, who was slain in 
 the New Forest, Aug. 2, 1100. The college connected with 
 the abbey was founded by Henry VI., who is believed to have 
 been killed in the Tower of London in May, 1471. The 
 grounds are acres in extent, and are well kept as a choice park, 
 with great neatness and care. We enter them through a gate, 
 at the side of which is a lodge, where tickets are procured, and 
 guide-books, containing engravings, and an account of the 
 premises from their first use for the abbey and its collegiate 
 purposes. Elegant lawns and undulatory lands are here ; 
 grand old trees, large and vigorous ; finely graded avenues and 
 paths ; clumps of flowering shrubs, among them the best of 
 rhododendrons, which on the day of our visit were in fine bloom ; 
 and to add to the beauty of the scenery, sheep, such as Eng- 
 land, and perhaps only Yorkshire, can boast ; Jersey and Al- 
 derney cows quietly grazing, — neither sheep nor cows noticing 
 the visitors, the best possible specimens of mind-their-own busi- 
 ness-individuals seen on our whole journey. These all com- 
 bine to give a tranquillity and finish to the landscape, such as 
 befit the place now in use for centuries, — glorious in age, and 
 charming in its loveliness. 
 
 The ruins are of the choicest and most enchanting kind, with 
 high walls, columns, arches, mouldings, buttresses, and every 
 detail in full, of window and door; and such a carpet of nice 
 low-cropped but thick grass as is seldom seen. What finish 
 everywhere ! How little to touch in the way of repair or amend- 
 ment ! Here, as on all ruins, is the companion-like ivy, doing 
 its good work. These ruins seem to be at home. The Others 
 we have seen appeared to have a solitary beauty ; but here, so in 
 
 '7
 
 258 ENGLAND. 
 
 the city, and surrounded by every-dav life, finish, care, and ani- 
 mation, they arc not companionlcss. 
 
 There is a sweet and indescribably good influence about a 
 place like this. How one enjoys the odor of these flowers, the 
 shade of these venerable trees, and of the walls themselves. 
 How easy it is to commune in the extemporized reverie, — and 
 it 's no hard task here to extemporize one ; how easy it is to 
 " call up spirits from the vasty deep." 
 
 We examine the great things, and then sit down and admire ; 
 next we walk around and get new views. We think of novitiate, 
 of nun, of monk, of collegian, dead and gone five hundred 
 years. Next we go to the museum, a building on the grounds 
 and part of the good premises. Between the main ruins and 
 this building are small ruins, or evidences of things that were, 
 but are not. We go in, and, as at the gate-lodge, a woman is 
 in attendance, and desires a shilling, and we are willing, for the 
 treat, to each give her one. We go in, and what interests are 
 awakened ! Old Rome herself can do no better. Not works 
 of Knglishmen are now to be examined, or of Briton even, — of 
 Scot or of Celt, but of them of the Eternal City bred and born. 
 
 A new station for the railway was built a few years ago, and 
 in digging for the foundation a large lot of things of Roman 
 manufacture were found, which, with others once belonging to 
 the venerable abbey, are now deposited here. Among the more 
 noted objects of interest are stone coffins, in which are bodies, 
 covered by a coarse cloth, and as they are imbedded in lime, it 
 would appear that it must have been put about them in a liquid 
 form. Some of these date back fifteen hundred years. Next are 
 pieces of Roman pavement, into which are wrought various de- 
 vices ; and there are also many common, red-clay, earthen pots 
 and jars, or vases of different sizes ; a majority of them would 
 hold about three gallons each. These were filled with ashes and 
 burnt bones. They were nearly full, and the materials had 
 either been forced in quite compactly or this solidity came by 
 reason of age. In a glass case, some sixteen inches square and 
 six inches deep, is the scalp of a Roman lady, almost entire, 
 showing the brown hair very perfect, and arranged as it was at 
 tin- time of her death. This was taken from a leaden coffin in 
 which were found the remains, the date showing that they were 
 buried full sixteen hundred years ago. There is also a display 
 of pottery and household implements, old Roman statuary and 
 utensils ; and monumental stones and things of the kind are 
 here in abundance.
 
 YORK. 259 
 
 Aside from these, and in addition, are many things once be- 
 longing to the abbey, — the whole a befitting appendage to these 
 ancient grounds. It would seem that there is, in this famed en- 
 closure alone, enough to amply repay one for a journey from 
 America to York. If these ancient things could speak, they 
 would want no more potent words put into their mouths than 
 those of Burns, when he says 
 
 O wad some pow'r the giftie gie us, 
 To see, oursels, as others see us. 
 
 We are depending a bit on punctuation to aid the thought 
 and application. Not so much as having heard of these ruins 
 beforehand, we were the more surprised ; in plastic condition 
 of mind the impression was made, and it is indelible. " Forget 
 what we may, let what will of our thought become bedimmed, — 
 let memories of St. Mary's remain and be good and fresh as 
 now," said we then, and repeat ever. Our first visit to York 
 Minster was made soon after our arrival. At 6 P. m. the doors 
 are closed, and as it was near or quite that hour, we were con- 
 tent with the good and great privilege of examining the elegant 
 grounds and magnificent exterior. The former are quite large 
 and properly enclosed. The same carpet-like lawn-grass abounds, 
 with a few grand avenues and paths over it, and trees of good 
 age. All was cathedral-precinct-like, tranquil and sanctified ; 
 but even here sin and its consequences were present in material 
 form, and the manifestation was quite what happens in Boston, 
 where we have no venerable cathedral nor such grounds. 
 
 Off a hundred or more feet from the building, reclining on 
 the grass and asleep, was a man beastly drunk. Two police- 
 men came and aroused him and led him away. As at home, 
 boys and women were interested and followed. To the credit 
 of the policemen they did their work well, and in a way befitting 
 the place, they could not well use less force, and they needed 
 to use no more. As we saw the old, old sight, we thought of 
 the terse and comprehensive verdict of Boston's once famous 
 coroner, Pratt, who had held an inquest on one found not only 
 dead drunk, as this man was, but (hunk dead ; and the simple 
 verdif t was, " Rum did it." Many instances occur where we 
 have to repeat the old vrnli< t. It's a good safety-valve to our 
 feelings, and having said a true, a comprehensive, an all-the- 
 ground-covering thing, we " rest tin- < ase." Rum does it there 
 and here and everywhere, the world over. 
 
 The great edifice is built of a yellowish and perishable sand
 
 260 ENGLAND. 
 
 stone ; parts of it are now in much decay, and the dust or sand 
 lay in small heaps, even about the threshold of the main en- 
 trance doors. It reminded us of the yellow dirt we call pow- 
 der-post, from a dry-rot decaying pine timber. For the most 
 part, however, the structure is in good repair, and in a short 
 time this great west front will be attended to. The decorations 
 of this part are very rich and elaborate. The whole is of exqui- 
 site proportions and design, even to minute details. This is the 
 most highly wrought of all the cathedral churches of England. It 
 is the largest so far as extent of ground covered, though not the 
 longest, as it is excelled in length by Winchester, and perhaps 
 by one or two others. The history of the establishment begins 
 in the seventh century ; but the present edifice was not begun 
 till after 1150, and it was not'completed till 1472, and had been 
 twenty years finished when Columbus discovered America. It is 
 in the form of a cross, with a magnificent square central tower 
 at the intersection, 213 feet high, or only seven feet lower than 
 Bunker Hill monument, though it has not that effect of height. 
 There are two other towers flanking the west front. These are 
 each 196 feet high. They end with an elegant light parapet, 
 and turrets at the four corners and centres. The extreme 
 length is 524 feet. The breadth at transepts is 247 feet. The 
 great east window is 78 feet high and 32 feet wide, filled with 
 elegant stained glass representing about 200 historic events. 
 The tower has a peal of 12 bells, one of which weighs 11 1-2 
 tons, and is with the exception of that on the great clock tower 
 at the Houses of Parliament, and the new one just placed on the 
 tower of St. Paul's at London, the largest bell in the kingdom. 
 
 We have spoken especially of its exterior, and are to speak 
 of its interior and its bishops ; but before we do so, we are in- 
 clined to think we shall once for all render a good service if we 
 devote part of our space to saying a few words in defining or 
 explaining these terms, minster and cathedral, for as a general 
 thing they are not well understood. We have previously said 
 something on the point, but at the risk of being accused of 
 repetition, will more definitely state the case. 
 
 Till the time of Constantine no houses for Christian worship 
 existed. After his conversion to Christianity, or as soon as 
 a. d. 325, they were not only tolerated but encouraged. Soon 
 some of them came to be large and imposing, and the assem- 
 blies were composed of rich and influential persons. These 
 congregations being able to well support and appreciate preach- 
 ers of ability and renown, such divines were established at im-
 
 YORK. 261 
 
 portant stations. By and by assistants were demanded ; next, 
 canons or special preachers ; and yet again others, as assistants 
 in parish work. A place like this was called a cathedral, and all 
 such churches were known by that name. In process of time 
 the term came to denote only the one church in a diocese at 
 which the bishop presided, or was identified with, and is so used 
 to this day. There were of course other large churches or 
 edifices quite equalling in financial standing, or in social and 
 general dignity and influence, the cathedral itself, and these were 
 not inclined to pay obedience to the bishop, and they simply 
 remained as they were, — in fellowship, if we may use the ex- 
 pression, with the whole Church, but yet independent of it so far 
 as the bishop's, or any outside authority, was concerned ; so it 
 is seen that Independency did not originate with the Puritans 
 or Dissenters. Westminster Abbey is of this class, and this 
 accounts for the independent condition of Dean Stanley, who 
 from his office of Dean of Westminster, owed no allegiance to 
 the Bishop of London, although the abbey is but a mile from, 
 and in sight of, St. Paul's Cathedral. An abbey like Westmin- 
 ster is, if we may so say, the church of an abbey once at West- 
 minster ; while the abbey itself was destroyed, the church has 
 remained. A minster like this at York, or that at Beverly, is the 
 church edifice, or place of religious worship, of a former monas- 
 tery, and so is called York minster. 
 
 Next a word in regard to the Archbishopric of York. An 
 archbishop is the head bishop, to preside at meetings of the 
 house of bishops, and to exercise some especial functions, like 
 the president of an association, but subject to rules and regula- 
 tions in the performance of his work as set forth by ecclesiastical 
 laws made by the convocation of bishops. Canterbury has from 
 the first been the seat of the archbishop, and of course great 
 importance and dignity attach to the place where the arch- 
 »p's seat is. York having for centuries been very impor- 
 tant in wealth and social standing, and possessing the grand <>'d 
 minster, disputed this claim, and al time's was influential enough 
 riousty interfere with the ancient arrangement; and, as a 
 sort of compromise, York was advanced to a position second 
 only to that of Canterbury. Its bishop, or head official, is dig- 
 nified with the title of Archbishop of York, and is therefore the 
 ! primate <>f England ; or, as we may better express it. he 
 is the vice-bishop of the entire English Church. The principal 
 Be it of the \v< hbishop oi ( lanterbury, and of the whole ( Ihurch, 
 is at Lambeth Palace, on the Thames below Southwark, and
 
 262 ENGLAND. 
 
 opposite the Houses of Parliament. Here are held all great 
 convocations of bishops, and the business of the Church is 
 done here ; but by ancient usage Canterbury Cathedral is the 
 seat of the archbishop, or, as he is termed, the Primate of all 
 England. Some years ago an arrangement was made whereby 
 some few places, or Sees, hereafter named, were given into the 
 charge of the Archbishop of York, so that he is an archbishop by 
 virtue of his office, though yet inferior to his lordship of Canter 
 bury. We next proceed, after the long digression, to speak of 
 the interior of the cathedral, or minster. 
 
 It is grand and imposing, and its great width and height im- 
 press the beholder with a feeling of reverence and awe. The 
 windows are of painted glass. Most of them are ancient and 
 dim-appearing, and probably were never of rich design or very 
 brilliant color. Every part of this vast interior is in the best 
 possible repair, and the utmost neatness prevails. The cathe- 
 dral has a crypt, or basement, and centuries ago it was customary 
 to hold services in it. By the payment of a sixpence each, per- 
 sons are permitted to visit it in company with the verger ; and 
 at all cathedrals, and in waiting, are these guides. It should be 
 understood that visitors are freely and gratuitously admitted at 
 any time from sunrise to sunset to all the cathedrals, but for 
 visiting especial parts, such as the top of the tower, the crypt, 
 if there is one, or places where valuable relics are kept, this 
 small fee named is taken, first, as payment of salary for the 
 guides, who are in constant attendance, and next, the surplus 
 goes for repairs of the cathedral ; and we may add that we visited 
 none where workmen were not making repairs. 
 
 We cheerfully paid our fee and went down into the grand old 
 crypt, now full one thousand years old. Indescribable are the 
 sensations experienced and the emotions awakened as one is 
 here. The place is but dimly lighted, and there are antique 
 and grotesque columns and arches, solid, prison-like masonry, 
 and groined ceilings of stone. It is not hard to imagine the 
 former sound of sandal-footed monks or nuns, of subdued voices 
 engaged in prayer, — to know of the odor of incense, wan- 
 dering about the columns and arches as it did of obi. All is 
 solid, fortress-like, and secure ; but in spite of solidity and thick 
 stone walls, the aspirations of monks and nuns went out through 
 them, for their prayers were not confined. Centuries now are 
 gone since their spirits went out of their bodies, and the custom 
 even of their service here came to an end. The new dispensation 
 has come, " a better covenant, established on better promises."
 
 YORK. 263 
 
 The race has advanced ; and now, nought but the grand and 
 vast .light room above, the incense of an intelligent devotion, 
 and the music of the great organ can render the desired aids to 
 devotion. We find here a superb reminder of a vast antiquity, 
 in a piece of Saxon work in stone, of the herring-bone pattern. 
 This was part of an ancient Saxon church, built before the visit 
 of the Normans. Do we comprehend the fact? No. We 
 believe the story, and admire the place ; and next, as best we 
 can, we try and know the thing as no one can know it for us, 
 but with only partial success. 
 
 At the rear of the altar is the tomb and monument of Tobias 
 Matthew, one of the early translators of the Bible into the Eng- 
 lish language, who was the author of the address, or preface, to 
 the King James translation in present use. The chapter-house 
 is entered from the north transept, and is a room of remarkable 
 elegance. All is of course built of stone. The ceiling is strangely 
 elaborate, and there is a wainscot around the room, at the top of 
 which is elegant flower and leaf work, and vines, with a profu- 
 sion of grotesque figures of nondescript animals. 
 
 At the right side of the choir is a chapel, in which are kept a 
 few things of unusual interest. Here is a Bible and Prayer Book, 
 presented by Charles I. to the cathedral ; also a copy of the 
 Bible, in two large folio volumes, given by Charles II. Next, we 
 have a fine old chair in which sat at their coronation all the 
 Saxon kings. There is also a silver crozier of seven pounds' 
 weight, and 200 years old. As at Durham, here also are exhi- 
 bited gold seal-rings once worn by bishops, and each is nearly or 
 quite seven hundred years old. 
 
 What as a whole was most entertaining was a drinking-vessel, 
 in the shape of a buffalo horn. It is over one thousand years 
 old. The grant of land on which this cathedral stands was made 
 by Prince Ulpus, and, according to the usage of the time, wine was 
 put into this horn, and in presence of the cathedral authorities 
 was drank by the Prince, or donor ; and the horn was then pre- 
 sented, to be forever kept as evidence of the grant. The last 
 royal marriage solemnized in the minster was of Edward III., of 
 •nil in line, to Philippa, daughter of the Count of Hainault, 
 Jan. 24, 1328. 
 
 The elaborate choir-screen is of a light-tinted stone, ami in 
 < ontains statuettes of all the kings of England from Wil- 
 liam the Conqueror, who died at Rouen, Sept. 9, r.087, to Henry 
 VI., who died in 1471 in the Tower of London. The structure 
 was injured by fire in the roof in [829, and again in 1.S40. The
 
 264 ENGLAND. 
 
 •archbishop's palace is on the north side of the cathedral. It 
 wis bnilt near the close of the twelfth century, and is used as 
 the library of the dean and chapter. The archbishop's present 
 residence is at Bishopthorpe, a short distance from the city. His 
 ecclesiastical province includes the dioceses of Carlisle, Chester, 
 Durham, Manchester, Ripon, Sodor and Man, York, and New- 
 castle-on-Tyne. 
 
 At 2 p. m. of this Saturday, June 8, we took train for 
 
 SHEFFIELD, 
 
 where we arrived at 5.30, after a ride of 3^ hours. It was our 
 anticipation of remaining here till dark, about 9 p. M. ; but, owing 
 to an earlier departure of the train than we anticipated, we were 
 compelled to be satisfied with a stay of but one hour. Not 
 entertaining a desire for long tarries in these great manufactur- 
 ing centres, we found this visit answered our purpose well 
 enough. The city is situated at the junction of the River Sheaf, 
 and three smaller streams uniting with the River Don. These 
 streams together form a grand water-power, which is used in 
 this great seat of manufactures. The city is very compactly 
 built on the side of a hill in amphitheatre form, and open to the 
 northeast. It has a dingy look, and is much smoked. The 
 streets are well paved, of good width, and are quite inviting. 
 It has a population of 261,019. Sheffield was one of the Saxon 
 towns, and received its charter as a market-town from Edward I. 
 in 1296. Early in the fifteenth century it was under control of 
 the earls of Shrewsbury, who had a castle here, and a manor- 
 house in a park a mile east. It was in one of these that the 
 greater part of the captivity of Mary Queen of Scots was passed. 
 The castle was demolished by order of Parliament in 1648 ; and 
 in 1707 the park of the manor was divided into farms. The 
 place is celebrated for its manufacture of cutlery, as well as for 
 a vast amount of other metallic goods, as steel wire, Britannia, 
 and German silver-work. The cutlery business was of very early 
 date, and a Cutler's Company was incorporated by statute of 
 James I. in the sixteenth century. It had a large monopoly, 
 which, interfering with the business of the place, was somewhat 
 restricted in 1801, and wholly abolished in 1814, after a use and 
 authority of nearly 300 years. In 1864 the breaking away of 
 the Bradfield reservoir in the hills above the city, like the disas- 
 ter at our Mill River, Massachusetts, destroyed $5,000,000 worth 
 of property, and caused the loss of 300 lives.
 
 SHEFFIELD. 265 
 
 The town, by reason of neglect of proper drainage, is very un- 
 healthy ; and in addition is the unhealthfulness of some of the 
 occupations, so that the bills of mortality are greater here than 
 in any other place of England. The railway stations being 
 about a mile apart, we went on foot, and so were able, aided by 
 the amphitheatre-like form of the place, to obtain a pretty cor- 
 rect judgment in regard to it ; and then our remaining ride out 
 through it, and the view from the suburbs, confirmed all ; and 
 so we felt that it was enough to say we had seen the famed 
 Sheffield, — a place where from time out of mind have been 
 made knives, bearing the stamp of Rogers & Sons. We had 
 hoped to catch a view of their famed manufactory, but did not. 
 This name, and that of Day & Martin, High Holborn, London, 
 are familiar to every American schoolboy. What civilized com- 
 munity has not at some time used things from both places? 
 
 At 6.30 p. m. this Saturday night, when, as in any of our great 
 New England manufacturing places, thousands were released 
 from their week's labors, and were out on the streets for their 
 Saturday night purchases, and a great crowd of people were at 
 the station, bound somewhere, — amid this scene, and making 
 two of the crowd, we took our seats in the car for 
 
 LINCOLN, 
 
 and in two hours arrived there. Another cathedral town, and a 
 grand one, the capital of Lincolnshire and a county in itself. 
 It is situated on the River Witham, and has a population of 
 26,762. It has grand elements of antiquity flavoring its history. 
 It abounds with ancient remains, including the castle of William 
 the Conqueror, and traces of town walls, a gateway of which, 
 still standing, is one of the most perfect relics of Roman archi- 
 tecture to be found in the country. It has a fine old conduit ; 
 also the palace of King John of Gaunt, and many antique 
 houses. There is no single place of England where there is a 
 better blending of the very old and the very new than is to be 
 found here. After the departure of the Romans, Lincoln be- 
 came the capita] of the Saxon kingdom of Mercia, and suffered 
 much during the struggles of the Saxons and Danes. It was at 
 the time of the Conquest, and long after, one of the richest 
 I id. I' uffered greatly during the baronial wars, 
 
 and also in the cii il ones, when its grand cathedral was used for 
 barra< ks. The i ity is well built. It lias an old and substantial 
 look, though not one of antiquity like parts of Chester and
 
 266 ENGLAND. 
 
 Shrewsbury. These two are the ones of all England that carry us 
 
 — by many of their houses, stores, public buildings, and entire 
 streets — far back into an exquisitely interesting antiquity. Here 
 we have all the marks of age, of good old-fashioned domestic 
 life and comfort, — whole streets of stores of a fair avi rage 
 grade, and a busy population ; and so it is a good place of resi- 
 dence, and a very desirable spot to visit. The principal build- 
 ings are the county-hall and jail, within the old castle walls ; 
 the ancient guildhall ; a session-house ; city jail, and house ot 
 correction ; and a grammar school founded in 15S3. There is 
 a very old Roman canal called Fossdike, connecting the city 
 with the River Trent. The place is distinguished for having 
 given birth to the renowned King John of Gaunt, or Ghent, the 
 fourth son of Edward III., born in 1340, and died 1399. 
 
 The principal industries are breweries, tanneries, iron-foun- 
 dries, grist-mills, boat-yards, and rope-walks, and in the vicinity 
 are good nurseries, lime-kilns, and brick-yards. It may be said 
 that this, as well as most English cities, is built mainly of brick. 
 The land is level at the railroad station, and in a part of the 
 business portions, and then rises very abruptly and at an inclina- 
 tion quite hard to climb. Full two thirds of the place are on 
 this hill. The streets here are much steeper than any in our 
 Boston, at the West End, and a few of the thoroughfares are so 
 conditioned as to make it necessary to put iron hand-rails on the 
 sides of buildings, and even at the edgestones of sidewalks. All 
 is very clean, well paved and lighted, and thoroughly supplied 
 with water. At the top of the hill and surrounded by houses, 
 mansions, and stores, are the grounds of its grand and indescrib- 
 ably fine cathedral. 
 
 As we have before said, when we approach one of these 
 structures, so imposing and wonder-inspiring, — so out of pro- 
 portion with everything else to be seen or imagined in the region, 
 
 — when we suddenly come upon one of these, we are inclined 
 to consider this to be the cathedral, and as though there was, or 
 could be, but one in all England, and this enough for all, and 
 that the remainder were simply parish churches. We wonder 
 every time anew, how they could have come into existence ; 
 where the means for their erection came from, and what in- 
 fluence could possibly have been brought to bear on any lot of 
 mortals to induce the required interest. 
 
 The later thought is that it was done centuries ago, when 
 monastery and abbey and priory and convent were in full ac- 
 tion, church and state one, Papacy powerful in the extreme,
 
 LINCOLN. 267 
 
 this life nothing, and the other everything. A superstitious 
 reverence was superior to an intelligent Christian faith ; and so 
 time, labor, money, all were free to erect these great centres of 
 religion and faith. 
 
 Next, the country was divided into communities with interests 
 of their own, and composed, as it were, of tribes, often hostile to 
 each other, though entertaining a common superstition and rev- 
 erence for what they thought to be truth and divine things. 
 There were few roads across the country, and so comparatively 
 little intercommunication or exchange of thought. With no 
 books and no newspapers, the people were shut in and igno- 
 rant ; and only was the condition disturbed and the lines re- 
 moved when by some invasion, — as of Saxons or Normans, of 
 Danes or of Scots, — or the result of civil war, the kingdom of 
 Mercia or of Northumbria became weakened and was ab- 
 sorbed by a stronger power. These cathedral towns or pro- 
 vinces were then realms with an identity of their own ; and so 
 cathedrals were not only possible, but necessities, and were be- 
 gun, and continued, and used for centuries, till by-and-by, iso- 
 lation being unnatural, the great laws of association acting, — 
 for " He made of one blood all nations of men, to dwell on all 
 the face of the earth," — as enlightenment came, advancement 
 came also ; a union of interest followed, which meant a division 
 for use of the best things ; and then cathedrals became in a 
 sense common property, not only to people of England, but by- 
 and-by to those of America as well. 
 
 Protestantism has not thus far been favorable to the produc- 
 tion of cathedrals equalling those of old ; but it has of late begot- 
 ten a new spirit and desire for restorations and repairs, and is 
 to day. and for a half-century has been, conscious of its respon- 
 sibilities to care for and preserve these great achievements of 
 genius and taste ; and so this seed sown will germinate and bear 
 its fruit, which will be in the " good time coming." Those of 
 that day, greatly advanced and advancing, will build new ones 
 outglorying even the old. This is sure to come. The race 
 does not recede. At times the work goes slowly, and seems to 
 be retarded. The march is yet on and up, despite appearances 
 to the contrary. As one in looking at a company of persons 
 passing up the inclined road of the tower of Pisa, when the com- 
 ire in parti* ular positions would consider them at a stand- 
 still, so to observers of humanity, inaction appears sometimes to 
 be the condition; but it is on and up, and when farther around 
 on th id, the whole is seen at a Hank view, and the en- 
 
 tire procession i.-> found to he grandly advancing.
 
 268 ENGLAND. 
 
 We are now back from a long detour, and speak of this ele- 
 gant cathedral. It is built of a drab-colored stone, and is in 
 fine repair. We pass through a large arched gateway, with 
 keeper's lodge at the left hand, and into the cathedral precincts. 
 Not now have weagreat lawn or close, but nicely macadamized 
 streets and roads in front of the great structure, and along the 
 right side and back around the rear. On these borders are 
 buildings belonging to the corporation, — schools, canons' resi- 
 dences, and those of curates. On the other side of the build- 
 ing, and at part of the rear end, is a fine old burial-ground, of 
 some two acres, and charming in the extreme. All is on a 
 grand scale — cathedral, streets, and grounds. 
 
 The great front has a peculiar construction, with two elegant 
 towers just back of it, each 180 feet high, of very elaborate 
 finish. There is another grand tower, at centre of building, 53 
 feet square, and 300 feet high, equalling Bunker Hill Monu- 
 ment in height, with a third of another like it on its top ! In 
 this is the famous bell, Tom of Lincoln. Cathedral bells have 
 often had names, — that is, the large ones, — as Big Ben at West- 
 minster, Great Peter, Large David, and others. The cathedral 
 is 524 feet long, and 250 feet wide at the transepts. It is in all 
 respects one of the finest in the kingdom. The interior is very 
 light, having large windows ; many of them are of elegant col- 
 ored glass, and superior to those at York Minster. 
 
 This cathedral, like the others, has a good history. In 1075 
 Remigius removed the Episcopal see from Dorchester to Lin- 
 coln, and was the first bishop. Immediately after his arrival he 
 began to build this church. It is known to have been nearly 
 finished, or at all events ready for use, in 1092. Remigius, 
 feeling his end to be near, being then very aged, invited all the 
 prelates of the realm to be present at its consecration, which 
 was to take place on the 9th of May. Robert, Bishop of Here- 
 ford, was the only one who refused the invitation, and his ex- 
 cuse was that he foresaw that the cathedral could not be 
 dedicated in the life-time of Bishop Remigius. In those days 
 astrology was much believed in, and its predictions were relied 
 on as prophetic truth ; and strange to say, the Bishop of Here- 
 ford's casting was right, for Remigius died May 8, 1092, the 
 day before that set for the consecration. 
 
 Robert Bloet was the second bishop, and he completed the 
 work and dedicated it in n 24, which was not till thirty-two 
 years after the time originally set. Of course great repairs and 
 restorations have from time to time been made, and there have
 
 LINCOLN. 269 
 
 been large extensions and additions. The interior has an un- 
 usual number of old and new monuments. We are hoping that 
 the few hints we throw out will induce readers to investigate the 
 cathedral question, and an abundance of good information can 
 be found in Winkle's " Cathedral Churches of England and 
 Wales." 
 
 It was indeed a hard blow to the Romish Church to lose these 
 fine buildings. There was, however, an advance made, but 
 " the end is not yet." The intelligence of this nineteenth cen- 
 tury will not long be satisfied with present conditions. Another 
 and fresh Reformation is sure to come. As in John Wesley's 
 day, the great Church needs new life infused into it. Rather 
 than ask Methodists to come and be absorbed by herself, as has 
 of late been suggested, better that the venerable Mother Church 
 go and dwell with the Daughter ; but neither will be done. 
 The grand old historic Church will in good time come into the 
 ranks of a more every-day and less formal life ; and the Metho- 
 dist, while retaining a good per-cent of her activity, and the ele- 
 ment that reaches the common people, will drop some of her 
 peculiarities ; and as humanity advances, both will move toward 
 each other, and, acting in unison, hasten the time when there 
 will be but " one fold, and one shepherd." 
 
 At noon of this day we left for Boston ; and, as ever, the step 
 was somewhat reluctantly taken, because we were in love with 
 Lincoln ; but Boston also had charms, and so we wended our 
 way there on this fine Whitsunday. This is the paradise of the 
 year for travel in England, and this is an Eden-like portion of 
 the old kingdom to go over. How hallowed the hour is ; what 
 better one in which to go from this cathedral town, almost cele- 
 brated for its hostility to all that savored of non-conformity, to 
 the one where New England Boston's John Cotton, her early 
 minister, — here not vicar nor even curate, — left, because of 
 his non-conformity, 243 years ago.
 
 270 ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 BOSTON — PETERBORO — LYNN. 
 
 ARRIVED at 2 p. m. on Whitsunday, June 9. What a 
 charm has this word Boston. It is to us of greater in- 
 terest than any spot in Old England. Now the anticipa- 
 tions of years were about to be realized. This, our mother city, 
 is a seaport of Lincolnshire, situated on both sides of the River 
 Witham, and six miles from the sea. It is on the Great West- 
 ern Railway, 107 miles northeast of London, and has a popula- 
 tion of 15,576, which was the number of our Boston's population 
 in 1765, more than a century ago. The two divisions of the 
 town are connected by an iron bridge of 86 1-2 feet span, so it 
 will be seen the river is quite narrow at this part, which is about 
 the centre of its population and business. The place may be 
 said to be noted for the neatness of its streets. It is well lighted, 
 and supplied with water from a distance of 14 miles. There is 
 a grammar school, established in 1554, and founded by William 
 and Mary. It has a court-house and a market-house, and there 
 are commodious salt-water baths, established in 1830 for the 
 use of the public. Its principal manufactures are sail-cloth, 
 cordage, leather, and brass and iron work. A monastery was 
 established here in 654, by the Saxon St. Botolph, and was 
 destroyed by the Danes in 870. Hence, as Lombard says, 
 " the name of Botolph's town, commonly and corruptly called 
 Boston." During the civil wars Boston was for a time the head- 
 quarters of Cromwell's army. Its decline subsequent to the six- 
 teenth century was caused by the prevalence of the plague, and 
 also by the increasing difficulty of the river's navigation. The 
 healthfulness of the place has been greatly improved by drainage 
 of the surrounding fens, and commercial prosperity has been 
 somewhat restored by the improvements of the river. Vessels 
 of 300 tons may now unlade in the heart of the city. 
 
 The city is celebrated as the birthplace of John Fox, the 
 martyrologist, in 15 17. His "Book of Martyrs " first appeared
 
 BOSTON. 271 
 
 in London in 1563. In his introduction he says that it details 
 " the great persecutions and horrible troubles that have been 
 wrought and practised by Romishe prelates, especially in this 
 realme of England and Scotlande, from the yeare of our Lorde 
 a thousande, unto the tyme now present." The work met with 
 great success, though its truthfulness has always been denied by 
 the Catholics. He died in London in 1 5 87, at the age of seventy. 
 
 The building of most interest of course to us Americans is the 
 grand old church of St. Botolph, for it was in this church that 
 John Cotton was vicar, and going as he did from there to our 
 Boston, and being minister of its first church, our city was 
 named Boston in honor of him. The edifice is built with its 
 west end, at the centre of which is the elegant tower, with only 
 a narrow road in front, facing the river, the rear end extending 
 well up into the fine square, or most business-like part of the 
 city. It is of a brown sandstone, 291 feet long, 99 feet wide ; 
 and the grand west-end tower, with its fine lantern, but with no 
 spire above it, is 291 feet high, or just the length of the entire 
 church. There is a good burial-ground around it, kept with re- 
 markable neatness. 
 
 The interior is very grand and imposing, having the usual 
 range of columns and Gothic arches, and all is in color a very 
 light cream-tint, or almost white. The great east window of the 
 chancel was paid for by the subscriptions of American Boston- 
 ians, and is a worthy and elegant testimonial. This is the 
 largest church without transepts in the kingdom. It was built 
 in 1309, and so is now 574 years old, but in most perfect repair. 
 All the surroundings are very neat, and the parish is one of 
 great influence and importance. 
 
 Rev. John Cotton, who connects our Boston so intimately 
 with it, was born at Derby, England, Dec. 4, 1585. He was 
 educated at Trinity College, Cambridge, where he was entered 
 in his thirteenth year. In 161 2, or at the age of 27, he became 
 vicar of St. Botolph's, where he remained for 20 years, and was 
 noted for fine elocutionary power, and as a controversialist. He 
 inclined toward the doctrines and worship of the Puritans, and 
 was so influential that he carried a large part of his people with 
 him ; and great danger was threatened to the parish in denomi- 
 national points of view. He would not kneel at the sacrament, 
 and his non-conformism at length became so apparent, and was 
 pronounced so odious, that he was ordered to appear before 
 Archbishop Laud's high-commission court. He was too con- 
 firmed in his opinions to recant ; and for safety fled to London,
 
 272 ENGLAND. 
 
 where lie remained for some time, and then left for America, 
 arriving in our Boston, Sept. 4, 1633. 
 
 In October he was installed as colleague with Mr. John Wil- 
 son, pastor of the church. He was for a long time the leading 
 spirit and mind in the New England Church. His death was 
 occasioned by a severe cold, taken by exposure while cross- 
 ing the ferry to Cambridge, where he went to preach, his 
 death occurring Dec. 23, 1652, the length of his ministry in 
 each of the two churches, here and in old Boston, being alike. 
 He was very learned, and was a fine Greek critic ; he is said 
 to have written Latin with great elegance, and it is stated that 
 he could discourse freely in Hebrew. He was a strong Calvin- 
 ist, often spending twelve hours a day in reading Cabin's 
 works. 
 
 He was very strict in his observance of the Sabbath, and in 
 accordance with his interpretation, and from the authoritative 
 nature of the statement that " the evening and the morning 
 were the first day," he argued for the keeping, as holy time, from 
 Saturday evening at sunset, till sunset of Sunday ; and so influ- 
 ential was he that he stamped the impress of his belief and 
 custom on all New England, and thousands yet living remem- 
 ber well the practice. In fact it would not be difficult to find 
 individuals, if not families, who yet observe the custom. He 
 was zealous for the interests of both civil and religious matters, 
 as he understood them, and was rigid and intolerant of those 
 who differed from him in opinion, however honest their con- 
 victions. 
 
 He was a great foe of Roger Williams, and did much towards 
 making him odious, and caused him at length to be banished 
 from Boston in 1635, when he went to what is now Providence, 
 R. I. As he says : " Having a sense of God's merciful provi- 
 dence unto me in my distress, I called the place Providence, 
 and desired it might be for a shelter for persons distressed for 
 conscience." 
 
 Mr. Cotton wrote and published some works, among them 
 one called " Milk for Babes," designed for children, but con- 
 taining what would in our time be considered strong and indi- 
 gestible theological meat, and so it is very properly withheld. 
 His daughter was wife of the celebrated Dr. Increase Mather, 
 pastor of the Second Church in our Boston, who was president of 
 Harvard College in 1681. Their son, the renowned Dr. Cotton 
 Mather, who was born in Boston, Feb. 12, 1663, and died Feb. 
 13, 1728, was named for his grandfather, John Cotton.
 
 BOSTON. 273 
 
 Our time of arrival was too late for attending service as we 
 thought to do, and so we enjoyed a walk over the city, and 
 much to our pleasure. As before named, the river runs through 
 the centre of the place ; and at the principal parts a wall is 
 built along its banks, with good cut stone for a half-mile or 
 more, with the proper stairways down to the water. The re- 
 mainder of the way, and at the outskirts, the banks are very muddy 
 and irregular, with deep gorges or indentations. They were, as 
 we saw them at low water, full twenty feet deep, and struck us 
 very unpleasantly. One sight impressed us rather strangely — a 
 series of sheep, swine (perhaps), and cattle pens, with low 
 fences for divisions, along the centre of the main street or thor- 
 oughfare, but having a good wide avenue on each side. 
 
 Hotels, or taverns, seemed to abound, and, as in all England, 
 they have peculiar names. So interesting was this idea to us, 
 while the theme was new, that at one time we began to note 
 them down, but soon found the work so. increasing on our hands 
 as to compel us to desist. A few of them — though of course 
 not all in Boston — are as follows, Old Hen and Chickens, 
 Ring O' Bells, Little Nag's Head, Raven and Bell, Dog and 
 Partridge, Grapes and Bell, Five Ways Inn, Packhorse Tap, 
 Hop-pole Inn, Leather Bottle, The Old Fox Inn, The Three 
 Cups, Haunch of Venison, Running Horse, Fighting Cocks. 
 These are but examples of what may be seen in almost any 
 English town. We are sorry to have to add that in old Boston, 
 as in the new one, rum-holes and drinking places abound. In 
 this, the mother emulates the daughter. 
 
 There are very pleasant walks out from the place, and we 
 much enjoyed those near the suburbs, they were so much un- 
 like anything to be seen here at home. Some of the streets of 
 this Old Boston are very narrow and crooked, though not espe- 
 cially antique, nor very ancient in appearance ; yet these low two- 
 story buildings had an entire absence of so much as an intima- 
 tion of anything new, though all was very clean and tidy. The 
 walk around to the left, at the edge of the river in this district, is 
 very charming, for from here St. Botolph's great tower is seen 
 to fine advantage, and we shall never forget the sweet sound of 
 the bells at sunset 
 
 We < ontinued our walk bark into the square at the rear of the 
 church, and now met a very large < rowd of people. No home- 
 ward-bound Catholic audience in our Boston outnumbers them. 
 1 ervice had been held al 6.30 p.m., of which unfortu- 
 
 nately we were not aware. We availed ourselves of the Oppor- 
 
 18
 
 274 ENGLAND. 
 
 tunity of the open house, and so had a good visit to the church 
 itself. In one of the walls was a marble tablet set up to the 
 memory of John Cotton. It was put there by American sub- 
 scriptions, through the labors and efforts of Hon. Edward Everett. 
 The tablet, and the great east window ; this old tiled floor, on 
 which we stood, so many times walked over by Boston's great 
 minister ; these walls and columns and arches, which for twenty 
 years resounded with his voice, — how befitting were the influ- 
 ences to make holy to us the Sabbath. 
 
 We had walked in the morning about the great cathedral at 
 Lincoln, to which See this St. Botolph's pays allegiance and 
 tribute, and where Cotton himself had many times worshipped, 
 and had doubtless preached. We had perchance kept the early 
 part of the day in a manner he would not approve ; but now 
 sunset had come, and freedom of action, according to his law of 
 interpretation. 
 
 Boston has yet remaining a few of the antique buildings, and 
 they are prized highly. We saw one, a good specimen of 
 the kind. It was of the timber-and-plaster construction, two 
 stories high, with three gables ; and all was recently put in perfect 
 repair, and it is said to be 600 years old. Near the venerable 
 church is the workingmen's reading-room, in which there is a 
 case of books donated by our city of Boston, or, it may be, by 
 some of her citizens. We were happy to be able to make a 
 small contribution in the shape of half a dozen of our city news- 
 papers — Heralds, Travellers, and Journals. We had taken a 
 room at a quiet, comfortable, little commercial-travellers' house, 
 — and most of England's towns have them, — and so now, at 
 10 p.m., after a good inspiring ramble along the other side of 
 the river, among nice little two-story brick houses with their 
 pretty gardens, we ended the day. Monday a. m., up early for 
 a new ramble over the place. It appeared charmingly home- 
 like. The good market-square was just being used, and stores, 
 or shops, were opening. We must and did pass up once more 
 into the burial-ground, or churchyard, of St. Botolph's. W'e ad- 
 mired over again the lofty tower and belfry, which is a landmark 
 forty miles at sea. 
 
 We tried to think of it, and see it as it is, hundreds after hun- 
 dreds of years old. As the strong breeze of that clear morning 
 blew over it, and whistled about its turrets, we saw its great 
 power of resistance to storms, but the results of them were 
 apparent. Time-worn, weather-beaten, and old it looked to be ; 
 and by-and-by came the thoughts that never do come early, —
 
 BOSTON. 275 
 
 that all is ancient, and was very old before our country was 
 thought of. 
 
 We walked along the farther side, to the great east division, — 
 for there are two distinct parts to the fine old edifice, — and then, 
 as we looked critically at the large windows, unusual in dimen- 
 sions, and filled to repletion with most elegant stone tracery, 
 we left, admiring St. Botolph's. Next we passed over the bridge, 
 passing by the nice cream-colored hotel, and through the long 
 and not ovenvide streets, with two-story-high brick houses on 
 either side, and here and there, on side streets, a few gardens, 
 all not much like things American, though not peculiar enough 
 to give them great interest ; and so we passed on to the station, 
 and had been to Boston, — a treat to us then, and ever since, 
 and the time cannot be so extended as to injure the charm. 
 We love new Boston now all the better since we have seen the 
 old, and know it had an honorable parentage. 
 
 We now, at 8.30 a.m. on this fine Whit-Monday, June 10, 
 leave Boston for Peterboro', another of the good cathedral 
 towns. We have only just begun our seventh week of travel. 
 As we here remember all we have thus far written, and think 
 that only six weeks have been employed in making this grand 
 tour, we are bewildered, and inclined to ask : Did we ever em- 
 ploy, or shall we ever use, another six weeks to so good advan- 
 tage? We ride on among the hills and over fertile fields, amidst 
 fine vegetation — fresh from some showers of yesterday, which 
 we did n't name, they were so little disturbing. We are charmed 
 on this tour, and admire the industry everywhere manifest ; as out 
 of our Boston, good cultivation of the land is a rule, and no 
 exception. Here are elegant landscapes, fine trees, single and 
 in groups, and woods, or what the English Bostonians call forests. 
 We had wondered how these things were, — whether all the trees 
 had not been cut off. We were prepared to see miles of terri- 
 tory treeless. But no ! trees abound, and over pretty much all 
 the territory we have been through. 
 
 Except for long lines or masses of woods, or timber-lands, such 
 as we see at home, the aspect varies little from that of the aver- 
 age of New England. All that strikes one forcibly is an absence 
 of ruggedness, and such rocky or barren conditions as we often 
 find in New Hampshire or Connecticut, or along the Maine 
 shore, 'lake the good, fertile, undulating part of New England ; 
 remove fences and stone walls, and, instead, put about a tenth 
 as many divisions, made by hedges ; reduce the number of 
 apple orchards, — and you have the English landscape. As
 
 27G ENGLAND. 
 
 you near the seaboard of England from any side, you get 
 the rocks, and more of the seaboard look. This is strikingly 
 so at the south part of the kingdom, towards Canterbury and 
 Brighton. Very New Englandish, even like Essex County 
 from Salem to Newburyport, does all appear. But now at 
 10.30 a. M. on this Monday, after a beautiful and refreshing ride 
 of 2 1 hours, we are at the famed cathedral city of 
 
 PETERBORO'. 
 
 Who that in other days saw the old, entertaining, and good 
 Penny Magazine does n't know something of this grand old 
 place, and the cathedral with its three great west arches, and its 
 central tower without a spire ? This was a semi-holiday ; it so 
 seemed, for most of the inhabitants were in the streets, and at 
 liberty. A pleasant day; but, though the 10th of June, it was 
 cool enough to make our overcoats comfortable, and we wore 
 them till noon. Valises deposited, this time at the station, we 
 went direct to the cathedral. 
 
 It was a way we had. These great objects of interest are 
 centres from which all other good things appear to radiate. 
 Make for one of them and you make no mistake, for enter- 
 tainment is at hand. You are well pleased ; all thoughts are 
 occupied ; other persons are there before you, and are like- 
 conditioned. Never one cathedral yet visited when we were 
 first of the lot, or alone. The doors are always ajar and the 
 verger in readiness, as though stationed there and in waiting 
 for us in particular, even as though we had telegraphed .that we 
 were to come. Not at all officious are they, or over-inclined to 
 get in our way. Never are they troublesome or interfering with 
 even our thoughts, or quiet examination alone, — but tractable 
 and ready, at the first overture on our part, to civilly answer any 
 question, to explain, to tell us what we want to know. They 
 are masters of the art of judiciously informing us that there are 
 yet things hid from view that we can see if we wish, and how 
 gently they name the small fee required. If there had been nor- 
 mal schools, or rather one, in all England, and it had been a 
 requisite before employment in these cathedrals that they should 
 attend the school, graduate, and then pass examination in the 
 way of doing these things, — had this been done, no more pro- 
 priety and judiciousness could be manifested. 
 
 We were surprised with the building. We admired it. We 
 had been so highly fed on food of the kind we were getting
 
 PETERBORO'. 277 
 
 dainty, but this was taken in with a relish. What a fine close 
 around the old structure ! How quiet ! How varied its land- 
 scape ! Well, the whole this time was enchanting, for it was 
 unlike others. So many nooks and corners for pretty rambles ; 
 so many old walls and ruins about the premises ; for very ex- 
 tended was the thing here in the centuries gone. We were in 
 admiration with the grounds in their many departments ; for 
 once the cathedral itself was second ; but soon we turned to the 
 thing that makes the grounds what they are, and were at first 
 sight struck with the good repair of the entire structure, and 
 with its clean and solid appearance. The architecture is Nor- 
 man and Early English. 
 
 It is very old, for the See was established, or rather the cathe- 
 dral was founded, by Peada, one of the kings of Mercia, which 
 was one of the ancient divisions of England. It was destroyed 
 by the Danes, and afterwards rebuilt as it is. It is 476 feet 
 long, with transepts 203 wide, and has a central tower 150 feet 
 high, ending with lofty turrets at the four corners. There are 
 also two small spires at the ends of the great west front. This 
 part forms a section 150 feet in height and breadth, and consists 
 of three magnificent arches 80 feet high, surmounted by pedi- 
 ments and pinnacles, flanked by the small towers before named ; 
 and in this front the cathedral is peculiar. It was begun in 906, 
 and at the time of the Reformation was considered one of the 
 most splendid religious edifices in the kingdom. 
 
 The interior is very grand and imposing. It is light-colored, 
 almost white, having been restored, as it is called ; which means that 
 repairs have been thoroughly made in every part, and all washes, 
 or tinted coatings, have been cleaned off, and as near as possible 
 the work left in its original or natural color. There was a time, 
 however, when all cathedrals had more or less of gorgeous deco- 
 rations in fresco and high positive colors ; next a white or tinted 
 preparation covered all ; and now, as that has been removed, 
 more or less of the old frescoes show, but of course in a badly 
 disfigured condition, and are only interesting as relics of another 
 age. The probabilities are, the time will come when all will be 
 re-frescoed in the gay colors of old. 
 
 At the Reformation everything savoring of art, in the way of 
 painting in churches, was condemned. A great reaction seems 
 to be taking place, and the chun h has discovered that it is quite 
 possible to use and no1 abuse these things; and in som< in 
 stances artists were at work in cathedrals, painting small portions 
 as specimens for re-decorating the entire work. Some examples
 
 278 ENGLAND. 
 
 of frescoed ceilings are already complete. Peterboro' is now 
 very white and clean, and the effect of its great interior is most 
 pleasing. 
 
 It abounds in monuments, and many of them are of great 
 antiquity and interest. Our statement must be so meagre that 
 we dislike at all to enter the field of description, but will venture 
 a little. 
 
 Catherine of Aragon, first wife of Henry VIII., is buried here ; 
 and it is said that on account of the fact of this being her place 
 of burial, the king was pleased to give orders that the cathedral 
 be mildly dealt with, and so it escaped that destructive action 
 that so much injured all the others. 
 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, was also buried here, but when her 
 son James I. came to the throne, her remains were removed to 
 Westminster Abbey, where they now repose. The graves of 
 these two eminent women were together, and now the verger 
 tells us : " There lies Catherine of Aragon, and there next to 
 her, and for years was buried, Queen Mary, but by reason of that 
 letter," pointing to a letter, glass and framed, hanging near by, 
 " her remains were removed to Westminster." We peruse the 
 letter in the king's handwriting, and muse on the fact with a 
 melancholy interest, and pass on. So much was this cathedral 
 admired by King Edgar, that he bestowed such valuable gifts 
 upon it that he caused the name of the city to be changed to 
 Goldenburg, the Golden Town, which title at length gave place 
 to its present name, derived from St. Peter, to whom the cathe- 
 dral was dedicated. 
 
 The dean and chapter, by virtue of their office, exercise so 
 much authority in the civil government of the city as to make it 
 practically under their jurisdiction. 
 
 This being Whit-Monday, and a holiday, the cathedral was 
 open free in all parts to the public, and hundreds were going 
 and coming all the time we were in it, — a large part of them 
 doubtless from out of town. We were thus favored with a view 
 of an English town on a holiday, and traces were present of 
 what gave the country the title of Merrie Englande. All the 
 people were well dressed, sober, courteous, and full of enjoy- 
 ment. Band-concerts and horse-trots were in order, and a bal- 
 loon ascension in a park. The eating-houses were full, and from 
 our experience of the results of the practice " first come, first 
 served/' it practically meant, that he that did not first come, 
 was likely to be served poorly, or perhaps, what was better, not 
 served at all.
 
 LYNN. 279 
 
 Peterboro' has the honor of being the birthplace of the re- 
 nowned Dr. William Paley, who was born in July, 1743, and 
 died May 25, 1805. He was graduated at Christ College, 
 Cambridge, in 1763; in 1782 was made Archdeacon of Carl- 
 isle. In 1 7S5 appeared his celebrated work, " Principles of 
 Moral and Political Economy," the copyright of which brought 
 him $5,000. In 1 794 was published his " View of the Evidences 
 of Christianity," and in 1802 his great work, "Natural The- 
 ology." These works were long used as text-books in theological 
 studies, and mark their author as one of superior intellect and 
 of profound reasoning powers. While the deductions of his 
 reasoning and arguments from given data are freely admitted, 
 yet later thought — and the breaking forth of that light from the 
 Scriptures, which the Pilgrims' minister, John Robinson of Ley- 
 den, expected would come — has destroyed some of his data, or 
 premises from which he argued, and of course the results are 
 anything but such as in his day, and as seen from his standpoint, 
 appeared reasonable or right. 
 
 In the vicinity of Peterboro' is Milton Park, the seat of Earl 
 Fitzwilliam. The estate is said to be a most elegant one, and 
 freely open to the public at certain hours of the day. This 
 custom is one that strikes the tourist very favorably, and always 
 awakens a sense of gratitude. No cathedral or building of im- 
 portance is ever closed from, say, 9 a. m. to 6 p. m., and facilities 
 are furnished the visitor to examine all parts. Much of it is 
 entirely free, and when a fee is charged it is a reasonable one, 
 and only such as will prevent a rush of loafers to the premises ; 
 and the fee goes to pay the salary of the attendant, or for repairs 
 of the structure. And now at 3 p. M. came another time for 
 " moving on," so we took train for 
 
 LYNN. 
 
 As will be observed, we are at times in places of very familiar 
 names, and to us this is one, and a place also we much desired 
 to see ; for from this, our Lynn in New England took its name. 
 It was arrived at after an hour's ride, and is a beautiful place, in 
 certain respects reminding one of our Lynn, for, although the 
 are mostly of two or of three stories in height, and <>\ 
 brick or stone, yet they have so many gardens intervening, and 
 
 a general freedom from compactness for a majority of the place, 
 as to give it a somewhat rural character; though in the more 
 
 immediate business part it has an old, perhaps aged look, and
 
 280 ENGLAND. 
 
 is compact and very business-like. The streets are well paved 
 and lighted ; there are many fine stores, and the old market- 
 square is surrounded by very substantial stone buildings. 
 
 The city is situated on the River Ouse, nine miles from the 
 North Sea ; so that, as at our Lynn, the salt water Hows by its 
 few wharves, and tides rise and fall regularly. There are here 
 also salt marshes, and, while we were there, the tide being out, 
 the hanks of the river showed to worst, or, as we should say for 
 our purpose, to best advantage, for we would see them at their 
 worst, and, from the " lay of the land," could imagine them at 
 their best. The water was, at this time of tide, down some 20 
 feet from the surface of land, and was perhaps 800 feet wide. 
 The banks were quite irregular and very muddy from their top 
 down to the water, and the river, while running in one general 
 direction., was rather crooked. From the opposite bank was a 
 grand sort of upland meadow, of perhaps a quarter of a mile 
 width, and beyond this, slightly higher land, stretching well to the 
 right and left ; and of a most pleasing nature was this landscape, 
 for there were fine mansions embowered in fine groups of 
 trees, splendid lawns, and every evidence of a good civilization. 
 Taken as a whole, this peculiar river, with schooners, yachts, 
 scows and fishing-boats ; a general lack of finish to anything 
 about the river except the grand meadow and fine domain bor- 
 dering it ; the, to us, very natural and pleasing odor of the salt 
 water, — even New-England-Lynn-like, as it was on this fine 
 warm summer afternoon, — these combined to make us definite 
 in our praise of this Lynn Harbor. 
 
 At our back was the city, and along at the edge of the river 
 were just such old, and, if not dilapidated, certainly not lately 
 built or repaired wharves ; and on them were just such things, for 
 fishermen's use, as are required to make a place of the kind in 
 harmony with itself and complete. There were old warehouses, 
 three and four stories high, quite thickly bordering on the wharf- 
 street, or narrow roadway. Not a thing that was new any time 
 during this half-century, and most of it was old on the other side 
 of 1800 ; but the aggregate was complete, for this, like our Lynn, 
 is a semi-commercial place. Back of these storehouses were the 
 town streets, and the good business portion ; and here in the 
 midst was one of the best possible examples of a very large, 
 almost cathedralish, ancient, stone, Gothic church, St. Margaret's, 
 founded in the twelfth century. It was enclosed in part by a 
 high but open iron fence, and the usual ancient burial-ground 
 was about it.
 
 LYNN. 281 
 
 Another church of antiquity and note is St. Nicholas. It was 
 erected in the fourteenth century, and is, for a thing of the kind, 
 one of the finest in the kingdom. It is in the Gothic style, 200 
 feet long, and 78 feet wide. The city has a population of 17,266, 
 which was the population of our Lynn sometime between the 
 years 1850 and i860. It has been said that the place is situ- 
 ated on the River Ouse, that stream being the principal river, 
 but there are four other small streams, or navigable rivers, run- 
 ning into the city, and these are crossed by more than a dozen 
 bridges. Anciently the place was defended on the land side by 
 a fosse, which is a ditch or moat, with here and there strong 
 bastions, or battery structures ; and there are the remains of an 
 ancient embattled wall and of one gateway. The city has a free 
 grammar school, founded in the fifteenth century. To give it 
 character as a place of antiquity, it has the ruins of a convent 
 and an octagonal Ladye Tower. It has several ancient hospi- 
 tals for the poor, an ancient guildhall, a jail, theatre, library, 
 mechanics' institution, a large market-house, and a fort. Up to 
 fifty years ago the trade of Lynn took rank as the fifth in Eng- 
 land. A bar of shifting sand at the mouth of the river seriously 
 troubled it, and a decline came, but its good prospects are now 
 on the increase. It has quite large exports of corn and wool, 
 and it has shipyards, breweries, iron-foundries, cork-works, and 
 rope and tobacco manufactories ; and steamers ply between this 
 place and Hull. Lynn was remarkable for its fidelity to the 
 royal cause in the time of King John, who died Oct. 19, 1216 ; 
 and, as a reward for its fidelity, the king presented the place with 
 a silver cup and sword. The people were also very loyal, and 
 espoused the cause of Charles I., who was beheaded in London, 
 Jan. 30, 1649. 
 
 Our rambles along the river and through the streets of this 
 place were very entertaining ; a rural atmosphere prevailed, as 
 before named, through a large part of it, and a good, healthy, 
 substantial, business-like air through the remainder. At 4.30 P. M. 
 we took cars for Wells.
 
 282 ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 WELLS — NORWICH — ELY. 
 
 T 11 TE arrived at 6 o'clock. The ride from Peterboro', 
 \/\/ through Lynn, and to Wells, was a pleasing one, for 
 
 * * the land in the entire region was different from any 
 we had seen. There were but few elevations, and, instead, 
 meadows and fens abounded. Dikes and ditches were fre- 
 quent. Windmills, as in Holland, were common, and in many 
 respects we were riding over veritable Lynn Marshes, as we 
 had done a thousand times, at home. 
 
 At length, arriving here, we anticipated seeing the cathe- 
 dral, but alas for human endeavors and calculations ! this was to 
 be the place of our entire journey mistake. Wells proper, that 
 of cathedral renown, was hundreds of miles away. This is a 
 little, east-side-of- England seaport town of 3,760 inhabitants. 
 Many of the houses are one-story, stone, plastered, and white- 
 washed. We felt in one quarter very at-homeish, for the street 
 alongshore was much like one at Gloucester or Rockport, or in 
 Joppa at Newburyport, Mass. There was an intense odor of fish, 
 and the fishermen themselves were Joppa-fishermen-like, and 
 not simply sailors. Heavy clothing was theirs, and of a cut and 
 style not like Boston or Paris. There boots were innocent of a 
 waste of blacking, souwesters for hats, and Guernsey frocks. 
 We did n't have very hard work to be reconciled, and " making 
 the best of it " was n't enough in the nature of a sacrifice to 
 transform it into a virtue. We were seeing a fine old English 
 seaboard town, and now we have an unexpected source of 
 thought to draw from. We have it sure, and ever shall. 
 
 The mistaken detour was a blessing in disguise, a cloud with 
 a silver lining. Next a. m., after a fine night's rest in that invig- 
 orating atmosphere, at 7 o'clock took train, and rode along land- 
 scapes not much like the other before passed over, for we were 
 soon out into higher land, with some fields, and amid many fine 
 gardens, groves, and woods, — in fact, in a quite New-England- 
 appearing territory; and at 9 a.m., on this June 11, arrived at
 
 NORWICH. 283 
 
 NORWICH. 
 
 No doubt this time in the minds of either of us whether or 
 not this was the Norwich, for in grand relief, off a quarter of a 
 mile, was the cathedral, with its centre tower and spire, 315 feet 
 high, which is one of the five spired- cathedrals of England. The 
 city is well situated on the River Wensum, and has a population 
 of 80,390, and is the capital of the county of Norfolk. It is a 
 very ancient place, for there are good evidences that it was 
 founded a. d. 446, or more than 1400 years ago. On the 
 departure of the Romans, who settled it, it was taken by the 
 Saxons, and in 575 it had improved and become the capital of 
 Anglia. In 1002 it was attacked by a Danish fleet under com- 
 mand of Sweyn their king, and was captured and burnt to ashes. 
 In 1328 the foundation of its permanent prosperity was laid by 
 Edward III., who made it the staple town of Suffolk and Nor- 
 folk ; and, conferring important privileges thereby, induced large 
 numbers of Flemings to settle in it. A larger number yet arrived 
 during the reign of Queen Elizabeth ; and so great was the indus- 
 try and ingenuity of the people, that their manufactures soon 
 became famed throughout the world. The city has given birth 
 to many distinguished men. Among these may be named the 
 following : Matthew Parker, a distinguished Archbishop of Can- 
 terbury, and so, Primate of all England. He was the second 
 Protestant Bishop of Canterbury, and died at London, May 1 7, 
 1575. A more extended notice of him will be given in the 
 description of the cathedral of Canterbury. 
 
 Next is Dr. Samuel Clark, born Oct. 11, 1675, and died 
 May 1 7, 1 729. He graduated at Cambridge, and was of a very 
 philosophical turn of mind. Having mastered the system of 
 Philosophy of Descartes and Newton in his 2 2d year, he published 
 a work on physics, which became popular and a text-book in 
 the university. He next turned his attention to theology, and 
 became chaplain to Dr. More, Bishop of Norwich. In 1706 he 
 translated into English " Newton's Optics," which so pleased 
 the great mathematician that he presented him with ,£500, and 
 Queen Anne made him one of her chaplains and rector of St. 
 James Westminster, and tin-, was when he was less than 51 years 
 old. He was a very scholarly and voluminous writer, and all his 
 works are marked by erudition and are on important themes. 
 H'- was a philosopher, and a Scientific thinker, as well as an 
 
 historical, or theological one; and on tin- death of sir [saai
 
 284 ENGLAND. 
 
 Newton, he was offered the place of Master of the Mint, bnt 
 strongly attached to his profession as a Christian teacher, he 
 declined the office, as being unsuitable to his ecclesiastical char- 
 acter. His death occurred at the age of fifty-three, and few 
 have died more worthily or universally lamented. 
 
 line also was born, May 21, 1780, Elizabeth Fry, the cele- 
 brated Quakeress and philanthropist, who was, in 1 798, converted 
 to pure Quakerism through the instrumentality of William Savary, 
 the American Quaker, then on a visit to England. She died at 
 Ramsgate, Oct. 12, 1845, greatly lamented the Christian World 
 over. 
 
 Here also was born, Nov. 1 2, 1769, Mrs. Amelia Opie, the well 
 known poetess and prose writer, who died here Dec. 2, 1853. 
 
 And here was born, June 12, 1S02, that remarkable writer, 
 Harriet Martineau ; and, in 1805, her hardly less celebrated 
 brother Rev. James Martineau, the distinguished Unitarian 
 divine ; and thus we find the list of notables increasing to a 
 degree that demands a refrain of enumeration even. The old 
 city is hardly less celebrated as having been the seat of very 
 marked and interesting historical events. 
 
 In 1 381 Bishop Spencer led an army, and successfully re- 
 pulsed an attack made on it by 80,000 insurgents, led by 
 Sitester, a dyer, in the Wat Tyler Rebellion. Muscular Chris- 
 tianity was at a premium, sure, in those days, and a political 
 sermon was then looked upon as a mild offence. In 1531 
 Bilney and Lews and Ket were burned at the stake for their 
 religious opinions. In the reign of Elizabeth 4,000 Flemings 
 fled from the cruelties of the Duke of Alva, and established in 
 this place the manufacture of bombazines, which work is carried 
 on to the present day. In 1695 a mint was established here. In 
 the years 1407-1483 was built, of curiously arranged cobble, or 
 round flintstones, the present guildhall, with panels in the front, 
 ornamented with armorial shields of the time of Henry VIII. In 
 one of the rooms is the sword of Admiral Winthuysen, taken at 
 the battle of St. Vincent, Feb. 14, 1797. In Pottergate Street 
 is the old Bridewell, built in 1380, of flintstone, and once the 
 home of Appleyard, the first mayor of Norwich. 
 
 A recital of interesting facts and description of relics could be 
 made which alone would require chapters of the length we are 
 using. The temptation is very great, when we are saying any- 
 thing of these grand old historic and antique centres, to enlarge, 
 and give a greater amount of those interesting old facts ; but a 
 moment's reflection calls attention to the impropriety of making
 
 NORWICH. 285 
 
 an encyclopaedia, and we forbear, and turn to the more modern 
 ideas. 
 
 The manufactures of the place are at the present time, as they 
 always have been, very varied ; and prominent among them is 
 that of woollen goods, which are of a great and ancient celeb- 
 rity, for the Flemings obtained long wool, spun in the village of 
 Worsted, nine miles away, and of this made that peculiar cloth. 
 This kind of yarn thus took the name of worsted, and is so 
 known to this day. It is said that there are 1400 looms working 
 in this city and the neighborhood. The city has a business-like 
 appearance, and a commanding look in its main thoroughfares. 
 It is well built of brick and stone, and everywhere, at intervals, 
 there are the evidences of age, in the old stone churches, of 
 which there are more than forty in the city, — some of them very 
 venerable, and built of split cobble-flintstone, and many of them 
 of great antiquity. 
 
 The city has a noble feudal relic in the shape of a castle 
 founded by Uffa in 575. It was extended and improved by 
 Anna in 642, and again in 872 by Alfred the Great, or more 
 than 1,000 years ago ; and now still stands, grand and imposing, 
 at the centre of the city, on a quite lofty eminence with precipi- 
 tous sides, and is surrounded by its massive wall and donjon 
 tower, but has been in modern times altered on the interior, to 
 fit it for its present use as a jail. Another part is remodelled for 
 use as the shire hall. The bishop's palace and the deanery are 
 imposing structures, old and interesting, and approached, as the 
 cathedral itself is, through what is called the Eppingham Gate, 
 a remarkable structure consisting of a lofty pointed arch, flanked 
 with semi-octagonal buttresses, and enriched with columns, 
 mouldings, and 38 male and female statues in canopied niches. 
 The market-place is large, and ranks as one of the finest in the 
 world. The city was formerly surrounded by walls ; fragments 
 of them still remain, but most have been removed and the ma- 
 terial used for more useful purposes. It was provided with 
 numerous watch-towers, and was entered by 12 gates. 
 
 Owing to the quantity of ground used, just out of the centre 
 of the city, for gardens and orchards, as the place is approached 
 by rail it presents a very rural appearance ; and being built 
 mostly on a hillside, and quite steep in parts, it strongly resem- 
 bles its namesake in our Connecticut, and it covers a much 
 larger spa< e, or territory, than any other English pla< e of a like 
 population. Not a few of the streets are narrow and winding, 
 and many of the houses that line such are antique with over-
 
 286 ENGLAND. 
 
 hanging stories, and presenting long rows of gables ; they are, 
 however, generally of brick, and more interesting for their an- 
 tiquity than for any merits of architecture. 
 
 Great improvements have been made in the suburbs, and 
 even in the city proper; new streets have been opened, old 
 ones widened, and many modern and tasteful buildings erected. 
 Hospitals and charity schools and institutions abound. The 
 literary and scientific institutions have a library of 18,000 
 volumes, and the mechanics' and young men's institutes have 
 11,000. There are numerous public parks or gardens, bowling- 
 greens, and great facilities for the amusement and pleasure of its 
 inhabitants. 
 
 A urand and venerable old place is this of Norwich, — full of 
 inducements for a visit, or even a permanent stay. It should 
 have been named that the suburbans, and those living on the 
 outskirts, give much attention to farming, and that Norwich is 
 in some respects like our Brighton, for it has weekly market- 
 days for the sale of cattle, and has the largest market in the 
 kingdom, with the single exception of those near London. The 
 stores, many in number, and a large portion of them of high 
 grade, present for sale every conceivable article, and argue of 
 a high civilization. 
 
 "The cathedral, — what of that?" says the reader. Well, it is 
 by no means forgotten, and we next tell of that. It is situated 
 on low and level land, and is from a distance looked down upon, 
 or over to, rather than up to, as is the case at Durham, Lincoln, 
 and in fact in many other places. It is built of a dark-gray 
 sandstone, and has a rather sombre look, and is located in the 
 midst of grounds, about in which are walls and ruins of the old 
 monastery, and the original garden walls yet remain ; so that 
 while the cathedral is not out among buildings of ordinary char- 
 acter, but has ample grounds and shrubbery around it, yet it has 
 no grand close, or park, as at Salisbury, Hereford, and many 
 others ; but all is complete within these precincts, and charming 
 in the extreme. A charming quiet pervades these ancient-ap- 
 pearing and large premises, and all is befitting the venerable 
 structure. 
 
 Like all cathedrals, this boasts of a good antiquity. The See 
 was removed from Thetford to Norwich in 1096. The first 
 establishment consisted of sixty monks ; they took possession of 
 the premises in 1106, and Bishop Herbert laid the cathedral 
 foundation in 11 15. The work advanced, so that on Advent 
 Sunday, 1 278, — or 163 years after the laying of the corner-stone,
 
 NORWICH. 287 
 
 * 
 
 — it was consecrated by Bishop Middleton, in presence of King 
 Edward I. and Queen Eleanor. In 1272 the tower was badly 
 injured by lightning ; and this was but the precursor of a greater 
 evil, for on the 18th of September of that year a riot occurred 
 among the populace, and they turned their attention to the edi- 
 fice. Most of the court buildings were destroyed, the cathedral 
 itself much injured, several of the sub-deacons and lay-servants 
 killed in the cloisters, the treasury ransacked, and all the monks 
 but two driven away. In 1289 Bishop Walpole began a spire of 
 wood, covered with lead, completed in 1295, which remained 
 some years, when it was blown down, and much injury was done 
 to the roofs. Bishop Percy erected the present stone spire in 
 the years 1 364-1369, so that as we now see it, it is 536 years 
 old. 
 
 The building is 416 feet long, transepts, 185 feet wide; and 
 the tower, which is 45^- feet square, is 140 feet high, with a 
 stone spire, 169^ feet above this, or an aggregate 309^-, ex- 
 clusive of iron-work, above it. The cloisters are 150 feet 
 square, and the open close about them is one of the finest in 
 England. The interior is very solid in appearance, yet as well 
 decorated as any in the kingdom. Indescribable is the solem- 
 nity of grand effect. How complete all is ; and how of eternity 
 itself do the great Norman columns speak ! Had we not already 
 employed so much eulogy in praise of other cathedrals, we now 
 could use adjectives to advantage ; but language has never yet 
 adequately described a cathedral's interior. There is more to 
 the thing than matters of curiosity and a tame entertainment. 
 We first are interested, next admire ; soon a feeling of awe and 
 solemnity is inspired, and the strong sensations tone down, and 
 one feels to be in the presence of men of other generations. 
 Bishops of distinguished renown have here held sway more than 
 half a thousand years ago. Here have kings and queens wor- 
 shipped. These arches through the centuries have echoed back 
 a million songs and psalms and prayers ; about, amid this lofty 
 vaulting, have the odors and smoke of Roman Catholic incense 
 wandered on ; and here at the foot of these ponderous columns, 
 and at these shrines, have thousands, yea millions, of pious de- 
 votees tried to do honor to the King of kings and the Lord of 
 lords ; and here also hy-and-by, in aid of reformation, was ruth- 
 less work done, and images of saints and grand sculptures, made 
 by monks and pious ones, were hurled from their quiet resting- 
 places, to be broken and to be cast Out, after centuries of sen \< e, 
 
 — to be as common things, ground to powder and trodden
 
 288 ENGLAND. 
 
 under foot of men. The good Scripture statement is that there is 
 joy among the redeemed over repenting mortals. If joy, then 
 knowledge and observation of what mortals do. Is it too much 
 to think that, with extended vision and enlightened conditions, 
 seeing truth clearly, and rid of its dress and habiliments of super- 
 stition and enslaving penance and wordy ritual, that even the 
 seeming desecration, speaking of advancing conditions and bet- 
 ter ones for after worshippers, — that listening to this, they too 
 rejoiced in the work, and that always after they have been inter- 
 ested here at these great shrines, and are present and commu- 
 ning? Is there not now, as of old, a great cloud of witnesses? 
 When one walks through the vast cathedral nave, and the sound 
 of his feet makes echoes that pass from one to another of their 
 lofty arches, is it too much to think that these are not all the 
 sounds awakened or elements set in motion? " Things are not 
 what they seem," for the poet has well said : — 
 
 As the temple waxes, 
 The inward service of the mind and soul 
 Grows wide withal. 
 
 This place so sacred, and now in grand repose, has been 
 desecrated to an incredible degree. The world's people and 
 the monks have at times come to blows. In recounting the 
 desecrations which took place during one of the civil wars, Sir 
 Thomas Browne says, that " more than one hundred monumen- 
 tal brasses were taken from the mural slabs in this cathedral, and 
 were carried away and destroyed." Bishop Hall says : — 
 
 The rebel musketeers committed abominable excesses in this 
 cathedral church, which they converted into an ale-house. They 
 sallied out habited in the surplices and vestments, sounding on the 
 organ pipes, and grossly parodying the litany, and burned the ser- 
 vice-books, six copies, and records in the market-place. 
 
 No cathedral makes a greater show of monuments, in wider 
 variety of design, or commemorative of more influential and 
 distinguished men ; and first may be named the elegant memo- 
 rial window at the west end of the nave, to the memory of 
 Bishop Edward Stanley, who was father of the celebrated and 
 now worthily lamented Dean of Westminster at London. The 
 bishop was born in 1779, and died at Norwich in 1849, having 
 been made bishop of this cathedral in 1837. In the presbytery 
 is a table-tomb to the memory of Sir W. Boleyn, who died in 
 1505. He was the great-grandfather of Queen Elizabeth.
 
 ELY. 289 
 
 Near by is a wall tablet commemorating Bishop George Home, 
 who died Jan. 17,. 1792. He was distinguished as a preacher, 
 and became President of Magdalen College, Oxford, in 1768, 
 Chaplain to the King in 1771, Dean of Canterbury in 1781, and 
 Bishop of Norwich, 1790. He was a very voluminous writer; 
 his chief work is his " Commentary on the Psalms," on which 
 he labored for twenty years, and published it in 1776. As one 
 lingers among these remains he is forcibly struck with the an- 
 tiquity of the monuments, and finds himself counting their age 
 by hundreds of years ; and among them are the following bish- 
 ops with the year of their death. They will be given in the 
 order in which they are met with, not regarding priority of 
 dates: Bishop Nix, 1536; Parkhurst, 1575; Dean Gardner, 
 1589 ; Bishop Herbert, 1682 ; Goldwell, 1499 ; Wakering, 1425 ; 
 Overell, 1619; Bathurst, 1837; Prior N. de Brampton, 1268; 
 Prior Bonoun, 1480; Reynolds, 1676; R. Pulvertoft, 1494; 
 and so might the list be continued. Here are bishops, deans, 
 curates, priors, sir-knights-templars, members of parliament ; 
 and distinguished women also, for not unfrequently appears the 
 title of Dame, as Dame Calthorp, who died in 1582. As we 
 think of these for whom monumental stones have been raised, 
 and the hundreds in the old grounds, who are " unknelled, un- 
 coffined, and unknown ; " of monk, nun, abbot, and abbess ; 
 Catholic and Protestant ; of them of ancient dispensation, as 
 well as of them of the new ; the whole a great company, more 
 in the aggregate than all they who in the city entire are yet 
 in the flesh, — as we loiter here and think of these things, we 
 see the force of the remark, " One generation cometh and an- 
 other goeth, but the earth abideth forever." We have said, 
 after all, comparatively nothing concerning this place of so 
 much interest and renown, but time with us moves as it did with 
 those who a thousand years ago labored and died here. The 
 great bell in the tower solemnly counts off the hour of 3 o'clock, 
 and we wend our way from these sacred precincts, and drop the 
 curtain, but not without the promise that whenever again at Lon- 
 don, we will come over to Norwich ; and now at 3.30 of the 
 same Tuesday, we take cars for the next cathedral town, which 
 is famous old 
 
 ELY. 
 
 We are at the seat of another of the famed cathedrals, having 
 arrived in just an hour's ride from Norwich ; so on this remark- 
 ably fine day as it is proving to be, — at home 111 Boston, Amer- 
 
 [9
 
 290 ENGLAND. 
 
 ica, we should call it a first-class middle-of-May one, — valises 
 deposited at the railroad station, our stay not to be long, we 
 are soon walking about the city. This is a small rural place, 
 situated on the River Ouse, and with a population of 8,000. It 
 is exceedingly rural in aspect, and has but little look of business 
 or manufactures. Half embowered with trees, the octagonal 
 tower of the cathedral is looming up in the distance, a half-mile 
 away. The place has one principal street, and but few others 
 of more than ordinary importance, and while clean to a fault, it 
 has many old buildings, and little that is new ; and, as before 
 intimated, gardens and lawns are common, and the entire place 
 has a charmingly rural character. The churches of St. Mary 
 and of Holy Trinity are remarkable for their age and an ancient 
 splendor. There was a convent founded here about 673, by 
 Etheldreda, wife of Kgfrid, King of Northumberland, and she 
 was its first abbess. It was destroyed by the Danes in 870, and 
 one hundred years later was rebuilt by Ethelwold, Bishop of 
 Winchester, who placed in it monks instead of nuns. The city 
 is on an island, and is said to have received its name from the 
 great quantity of eels that used to be taken here. It has some 
 manufactures of earthen-ware, and tobacco-pipes, and there are 
 also flax and hemp-seed oil-mills, and lime-kilns ; but the prin- 
 cipal source of income for the laboring people is agriculture, 
 and it has very extensive gardens for the cultivation of market 
 vegetables, the produce of which is mainly sent to Cambridge, 
 sixteen miles away, for use at the colleges. 
 
 The monastery and former abbey being established here, made 
 it at an early day one of the celebrated religious centres of Eng- 
 land ; and, as often the case, the church of the institution was 
 important, and in time became a cathedral. The See was estab- 
 lished in 1 107. In 1066 Thurston was abbot, and he defended 
 the Isle of Ely seven years against William the Conqueror. In 
 108 1 Simeon, a prior of Winchester, was abbot, and laid the 
 foundation of the present cathedral. 
 
 In 1 107, as before stated, the See was established, and Hervey, 
 who had been Bishop of Bangor, — and, it is said for good rea- 
 sons, had been driven away, — was elected Abbot of Ely ; that 
 is, he was head of the monastery. He made an effort to have 
 this a seat of the bishop, and, succeeding, was himself made its 
 first bishop. Simeon, who laid the cathedral foundation, lived 
 only long enough to finish the choir and one transept, and of 
 his work this transept only now remains. 
 
 The nave, the great western tower as high as the first battle-
 
 ELY. 291 
 
 ments, and the south transept were finished, the former in 1 1 74^ 
 and the latter in 1189. The great western portico was begun in 
 1200, and finished in 12 15. In 1552 extensions were made, 
 and in 1322 the octagonal lantern of the tower was begun, and 
 it was finished in 1328. A spire of wood was built on this in 
 1342, which was afterwards removed. Various repairs and res- 
 torations have been from then till now going on, and we have it 
 at present in fine condition of repair. It is built of a grayish, or 1 
 dark soapstone-colored stone, resembling the cathedral at Salis- 
 bury ; and on the stone is a large lot of lichens, — a species of 
 fungus or moss, such as is often seen on our common stones of 
 field walls, though so very thin and close to the stone as at times 
 to appear simply like a stain on the material. The building is 
 517 feet long, 179 feet wide at the transepts, and the nave and 
 aisles are respectively 78 feet wide and 70 feet high. 
 
 A marked and important feature of this cathedral is the great 
 west tower, on the four corners of which are large octagonal 
 buttress piers, ending in very lofty turrets, crowned with battle- 
 ments ; and inside of these, but somewhat lower, is an octagonal 
 lantern section, also crowned with an embattled parapet. The 
 tower is very elaborate and elegant in its finish and proportions, 
 and is in all 306 feet high. Another peculiarity of the cathedral 
 is that at the intersection of the nave, transepts, and choir, 
 are four subordinate sides in which are elegant windows, and the 
 whole great octagon, ending at the outside lines with groined 
 work ; and the centre part is a lantern which is open well up into 
 the great tower over it. 
 
 The interior of this cathedral is elegant and wonderfully elab- 
 orate, and is excelled by no cathedral in the kingdom. Here, 
 if anywhere, may it be said that rich Gothic architecture is 
 " frozen music." Speak as favorably as one will of other cathe- 
 drals, they may yet be lavish in praise of Ely ; and it may be 
 added that the painted glass windows are incredibly fine and in 
 keeping with the grand building they illuminate. Of one thing 
 we repeatedly speak, and it is that we are glad that we did not 
 see the interior of a cathedral like this first ; else many of the 
 others would have appeared tame and weak. All, however, 
 have their own peculiar glories, and, as productions of art, do 
 their own respective work. 
 
 There are but few monuments of note in the cathedral. There 
 were once, however, many of bishops, priors, and deans, but all 
 have been destroyed or removed but two; they are of Bishop 
 Gray and of Lewis de Luxemburg, who was made bishop in
 
 292 ENGLAND. 
 
 1438, and who held the bishopric by special dispensation of the 
 Pope, being at the same time Archbishop of Rouen, France, and 
 also a cardinal. 
 
 Among the eminent men who have been bishops of this cathe- 
 dral is Matthew Wren, who was elected bishop in 1638. He was 
 uncle of the distinguished architect of St. Paul's at London, Sir 
 Christopher Wren, and he held the following offices at different 
 periods : Master of St. Peter's College, Cambridge ; Dean of 
 Windsor ; and Bishop of Hereford, and also of Norwich. He 
 was a great sufferer during the Usurpation and the Rebellion, 
 but outlived both, and before his death saw peace and tranquil- 
 ity restored. In looking over the list of Ely's bishops, one is 
 astonished to observe how eminent they must have been, if we 
 may judge from their having previously been bishops in other 
 cathedrals. Simon Langham, elected here in 1332, was a car- 
 dinal, and, after being here, was bishop at Canterbury. Thomas 
 de Armdel, of 1374, was translated to York, and then to Can- 
 terbury. John Morton, of 1478, was afterwards Archbishop of 
 Canterbury. Thomas Goodrich, of 1534, was once Bishop of 
 Westminster, and also of Norwich. Simon Patrick, of 1691, 
 was at Chichester as bishop, and was dean at Pcterboro'. 
 Remarkable confidence seems to have been reposed in the 
 bishops of Ely for uprightness and integrity, and a business 
 talent as well ; for as many as twelve of them were chancellors 
 of England, and four of them founded colleges or were masters 
 at Cambridge. 
 
 As we try to select a few items of especial interest from the 
 vast amount before us, the task is bewildering, and when a 
 final work has been done, it is so meagre and paltry as to cause 
 uncomfortable thoughts, and put to flight all anticipations of even 
 a reasonable satisfaction. 
 
 These vast buildings, so elegant in decoration, so aged, so 
 satisfying to the beholder, as remarkable works of skill in dec- 
 orative and constructive points of view, are great museums and 
 libraries of themselves ; and to the reflective observer there are 
 " sermons in stones." When here and at like places, we are 
 amid the results of the anticipations and prayers and labors of 
 centuries. We go back to the day when a lot of mortals, full 
 of a pious aspiration for the good and the true, — yet supersti- 
 tious, — were travelling over these spots in quest of a best place 
 for study and repose ; and they at last here rested, and founded 
 an abbey or monastery, a priory it may be, or a simple nunnery. 
 By-and-by the foundation of a great church was to be laid, but
 
 ELY. 293 
 
 with no hope or expectation of ever seeing those foundation 
 walls of an entire cathedral reach even the earth's surface : com- 
 prehending the scheme, they plied themselves to the task, and 
 labored and died ; others came, the walls arose, and centuries 
 passed. Tower, battlement, and roof climbed heavenward, and 
 then came consecration and worship, but never rest. Death of 
 prelate, then monuments were in order ; repairs of cathedral ; 
 civil wars, rebellions, destruction of the art-work of centuries ; 
 overturnings of doctrines, disputes, and surrender of cathedral, 
 and all its sacred belongings come ; new doctrines are inaugu- 
 rated, and become the law of the land. Generations after gen- 
 erations are born and die. The cathedral grows old, aged ; the 
 grounds only remain as they were ; and not as they were, for the 
 soil is raised by the dust of the thousands that are buried and 
 moulder in it, and so, in transfigured glory, even the old trees 
 that throw their grateful shadows have in their fibre earth that 
 was once the royal bone and flesh and sinew of bishop, cardinal, 
 or king. At places in cathedral premises are charnel houses, or 
 rooms where are deposited bones and remains exhumed, or taken 
 from tombs, and these are thrown into promiscuous heaps to 
 moulder on a little longer, and, having become resolved back to 
 mother earth, to be quietly shovelled out as food for grass and 
 flowers on the great lawns. These are the seen, the temporal ; 
 but the unseen, the eternal, is no less fact, nor less real, for the 
 influence these men exerted lives and acts. The mortal is 
 greater than any material thing he builds. That decays, and as 
 an organized thing ceases to be, but the influence of thought 
 dies never. We know not into whose little mass of earth, whose 
 narrow house, the rootlets of the tree whose branches shade us 
 have gone, and taken up their infinitessimal particles of human 
 earth, and carried it on to make leaf and blossom, or fibre of 
 wood or bark. We know it has been done, and is yet doing, 
 and has been so for centuries ; for, as Shakespeare has it : — 
 
 Imperious Caesar, dead and turned to clay, 
 Might stop a hole to keep the wind away; 
 ( Mi that the earth, which kept the world in awe, 
 Should patch a wall to expel the winter's flaw ! 
 
 Not seen as fact, with material eyes, but known beyond per- 
 adventure by the less material thought; so it is of the deeds 
 done, — living and acting, when the authors are dead, as the 
 world judges and de< lares. Bui are not the great arch and pil- 
 lar of nave influential now? ts nol the eleganl decoration of 
 cut stone refining to those of this day? Does not the largeness 
 even of the cathedral inspire us now to do large things? Does
 
 294 ENGLAND. 
 
 not the patience of monk, of old bishop, of the master mind of 
 those back ages, — content to but lay a foundation and then 
 resignedly die, — does not that beget the like, even in this 
 hurrying nineteenth-century time? And the determination of 
 Cromwell or of Henry VIII., even though destructionists, — 
 iconoclasts not only of stone, but unwittingly of superstitions 
 and religious tyranny, — though in a sense tyrants themselves, 
 does not their work make it comfortable for free conscientious 
 worship now? Does not the work of such ones and their sus- 
 taining bishops, — of martyrs, by their faithfulness and sacrifices 
 even of life itself, — do not these make our good conditions 
 possible, which but for them would never have been ? Cathe- 
 dral is museum and library ; it is shrine, — inspiring thought and 
 evolving new good, and in no way inferior to picture-gallery or 
 depository of mechanical production or of curious art. 
 
 A long digression this, and but for the license we at the start 
 reserved, apology would be due. We greatly enjoyed Ely and 
 all things in it. A fine long walk came next, from the cathedral 
 off half a mile into a back road, where, amid the good suburban 
 shade of overhanging garden trees, and enveloped in the nice 
 odor of flowers, we took our last view of the old structure, and 
 turned our feet to the station. Dreamish was the whole thing. 
 A few hours ago we were not in sight of the famed place, where 
 has crystallized the greatness engendered by centuries. A choice 
 bit of earth, covered over and enveloped in extraordinary his- 
 tory and momentous events, the site of any cathedral is. A few 
 hours only there at the shrine, and the material curtain for us 
 two drops, and never perhaps to be raised while we are in the 
 flesh. It was another scene of lightning-like presentation, but 
 the photograph was taken. The impression is clear, clean-cut 
 of detail and outline ; and though it may be dimmed it will never 
 be effaced, nor beyond recall. We leave the famed place, and, 
 entering the station, sit mute in our car. The common things 
 of every-day life take us in charge. Engine, embankments, 
 bridges, tunnels, fields, every-day things, terribly modern, come 
 up in front, and gently absorb attention. The mind quietly and 
 imperceptibly yields. We are kindly let down, and the spell 
 is broken. 
 
 We are on our way to Cambridge. It 's 6.30 p. m. only, and 
 that 's early for these long English June days. Classic and wor- 
 thily renowned Cambridge ! Our thoughts go on and not back 
 now. When one has been thinking of a great thing, it 's a com- 
 fort, when ruthlessly removing from it, to be permitted to think 
 of another as great or greater.
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 295 
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 
 
 OUR arrival here was at 7.30 p. m. on Thursday, June n, 
 with but an hour's ride from Ely. This city, as is well 
 known, is the other great university place of England, 
 with its sister Oxford, and is in many respects like that ; for aside 
 from its being a great seat of learning, the general look and 
 surroundings are much the same. Fine meadows surround the 
 city, and the River Cam runs through it, as does the Cherwell at 
 Oxford. Hie place is one of great antiquity, for in Doomsday- 
 book it is described as an important place, and is there called 
 Grente-bridge, from one of the then names of the river. Its 
 present name is derived from the more modern name, Cam, 
 which is nearer correct. The pronunciation by the inhabitants 
 was Cam-bridge, giving a its sound as in can, instead of its long 
 sound as in came, by our usage. In 871 it was burnt by the 
 Danes ; rebuilt; and burnt in 1010. Subsequent to this it has 
 been the scene, at various periods, of great historical events, but 
 we will leave its ancient history and speak of it as it now is. 
 
 The present population, including about 8,500 students, is 
 35,372. What makes it of peculiar interest to people of Massa- 
 chusetts is, that from it is taken the name of our Cambridge, 
 which was done in honor of some of the early settlers, who were 
 graduates here, and also of Rev. John Harvard, who removed 
 from here to America, and died at our Charlestown, Sept. 24, 
 1638. At his death he made a donation to our college of money 
 and his library of 300 books. 
 
 No more beautiful place of sojourn in the kingdom of Great 
 Britain exists than this. There is at one of the principal busi- 
 ness sections quite a commercial aspect, there being good stores 
 for the sale of goods of all kinds, and the bookstores are exqui- 
 sitely tempting. Here and there are fine old mansions elegantly 
 embowered in trees \ and winding about among them, and for 
 long di ire the most rural of roads imaginable for quiet 
 
 rambles, strongly reminding one of the more retired parts of oil r
 
 296 ENGLAND. 
 
 Roxbury, most of them being shaded by venerable trees. There 
 are examples of churches, with their surrounding graveyards, 
 which boast of wry great antiquity, and they also greet us with 
 a look of centuries. The people are blest with a becoming and 
 good reverence for these time-honored enclosures and venerable 
 buildings, and they religiously repair them when needed, but 
 refrain from amending. 
 
 Happily for them, public sentiment is such that no Old South 
 campaigns, such as balls, fairs, and " Carnivals of Authors," are 
 required before they will refrain from putting them out of exist- 
 ence. An atmosphere of learning, and suggestions of high 
 cultivation, and that of centuries' duration and exercise, prevails 
 and is everywhere apparent. Even the business portion seems 
 to be subdued, refined, and classic. After making due allow- 
 ance for the fact of knowledge of the nature of the place and 
 interest in it exciting, perhaps, a too intense admiration, one gets 
 the impression that the children are more refined, and that even 
 the street horses are better behaved than elsewhere ; he all the 
 time feels as though he was enveloped in an atmosphere of unu- 
 sual propriety, for there 's a sort of Sunday-air about everything. 
 
 As at Oxford, the colleges are many in number, and the build- 
 ings are of peculiar construction, entirely unlike ours in America. 
 We have given a full description of those at Oxford, and remarks 
 concerning them apply alike to these, for in most respects they 
 do not vary much from each other. It may be said that, take 
 at random one half of those at Oxford, and exchange buildings 
 and grounds with an equal number from Cambridge, — take 
 them promiscuously, and put each respectively in the place of 
 the other, — and you would in no way attract especial attention 
 so far as style, size, or kind of architecture is concerned. Of 
 course all vary from each other, but part of those in one place 
 do not vary from part of those of another, any more than each 
 varies from its neighbor. 
 
 Here are the same courts, or closes, called courts at Cambridge, 
 and quads at Oxford. They are always entered by a principal 
 arch or gateway from a main street, and there enclosed is the 
 elegant lawn of that indescribably velvet-like grass, for which 
 such places are celebrated, and which the mild and moist cli- 
 mate so well takes care of and favors. Then there is a grand 
 and scrupulously clean gravel-walk around it, and up against 
 the buildings ; and it may be there are good paths across it, 
 leading to other openings, through under the first story to an- 
 other court of like nature, and yet again to others, — for some 
 colleges have four or more of these.
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 297 
 
 Everywhere exists a neatness that is remarkable, — no particle 
 of paper nor bit of anything to mar the nicety. Windows innu- 
 merable are filled on their outside sills with pots of flowers. We 
 often say, as we pass through the courts and observe the perfect 
 repair every building is in, — the cleanliness, the comfortable 
 quiet, — " How perfect, and what a good public sentiment 
 among the students there must be to make the condition 
 possible." 
 
 Aside from these courts, some, and perhaps most of the col- 
 leges, have very large and great park-like grounds and of many 
 acres in extent, with walks ancient and shaded with venerable 
 trees. The lazy River Cam moves leisurely through them, as if 
 loath to leave, and as though admiring its visit and stay. As we 
 stood on one of the grand old bridges crossing it, — and there 
 are quite a number on the grounds leading from one division 
 of the park to another, and sometimes, as at St. John's College, 
 connecting two buildings, — as we stood looking down into the 
 water we almost felt that it, as we did, realized that the visit was 
 one of a lifetime, and not to be hurried over. 
 
 How inducive of thought are these old classic grounds, cen- 
 turies in use? Poets, philosophers, and martyrs, the most re- 
 nowned men of the world, have here walked as we are walking. 
 Oxford has had her great men, and we bow reverently at the 
 thought or even mention of their names. How the destinies of 
 the kingdom and those of the world have been influenced by 
 men to whom Oxford was alma mater ; but an intense conser- 
 vatism lias always nestled in her bosom and been suckled at her 
 breasts. For centuries it was Oxford's conscientious duty and 
 work to be conservator of religion and philosophy, and, as she 
 understood it, to see that the ship did not drag anchor, drift, 
 nor move a particle from her ancient moorings of received doc- 
 trines and principles ; and so, if burning of martyrs would aid 
 the cause, martyrs must be burned, and Hooper and Latimer 
 and Ridley and Cranmer, Cambridge men, must be ensamples 
 and victims. As a result the flame of poetry burned low in that 
 university, and if the world was to have a Milton and a Spen- 
 ser, a Gray and a Byron, Christ's, Pembroke, and Trinity of 
 Cambr I furnish them. So of great philosophers ! Cam- 
 
 's Trinity must furnish Newton and Bacon ; and, as named, 
 the great martyrs Cranmer, Latimer, and Ridley must go from 
 i Clare, and Pembroke of this university; and what vast 
 
 influen certed by die labors of 
 
 John R . the Pilgrims' minister and spiritual adviser, who
 
 298 ENGLAND. 
 
 although he died before he was permitted to look on this prom- 
 ised land, yet was to the moment of his death their best earthly 
 friend ; and so we may speak of Elder Brewster and of John 
 Cotton ; of Shepard of Lynn, and Parker and Noyes of New- 
 bury, and all their fellow-contemporaries in the work of the 
 ministry, — hardly one, save the two last named, who did not 
 graduate at Cambridge ! Archbishop Laud declared Sidney, 
 Sussex, and Immanuel Colleges here to be " the nurseries of 
 Puritanism." To use the thought of Dean Stanley : " It seems 
 to have been the mission of Cambridge to make martyrs, and 
 the work of Oxford to burn them." 
 
 But we pass on and notice the colleges themselves. From 
 their great number and the long history each has, it will be im- 
 possible to give even a respectable synopsis of their history, and 
 we can do but little more than name them, as was done for 
 Oxford, in the order of their founding, with the date, and give 
 a sample only of names of the eminent men who have been 
 educated at each ; and first in the list is St. Peter's, founded 
 1284, by Hugh de Balsham, Bishop of Ely. The library con- 
 tains 6,000 volumes, and has fine old antique portraits of some 
 of the masters and fellows, dating from 1418 to 1578. Among 
 its eminent men were the famous Cardinal Beaufort, Bishop of 
 Winchester, who died 1447. Thomas Gray, author of the re- 
 nowned "Elegy in a Country Churchyard," died in 1771, and 
 Lord Chief Justice Ellenboro', 18 18. 
 
 The second in antiquity is Clare College, founded by Dr. 
 Richard Badew, Chancellor of the University, in 1326. Eliza- 
 beth Clare, the third sister and co-heiress of Gilbert de Clare, 
 Earl of Gloucester and Hertford, of her bounty built the college 
 buildings, and in 1347 endowed it with land ; and from thence 
 it obtained the name which it has held for over five centuries. 
 The grounds named are inconceivably elegant, and a graceful 
 poet of Oxford, in speaking of them, remarks as follows : — 
 
 Ah me ! were ever river-banks so fair, 
 Gardens so fit for nightingales as these ? 
 Were ever haunts so meet for summer breeze, 
 Or pensive walk in evening's golden air? 
 Was ever town so rich in court and tower, 
 To woo and win stray moonlight every hour ? 
 
 Some of her eminent men are, beside the martyr Latimer : 
 John Tillotson, Archbishop of Canterbury, died in 1594 ; Ralph 
 Cudworth, D. D., the celebrated writer, 1688; and Rev. James 
 Hervey, author of the Meditations, 1758. The next is Pern-
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 299 
 
 broke, founded in 1347, by Mary de St. Paul, second wife of 
 Aymer de Valence, Earl of Pembroke. She obtained her char- 
 ter from Edward III. Her husband had died suddenly in 
 France in 1324. The venerable appearance of the buildings 
 caused Queen Elizabeth, when she visited it for the first time, to 
 salute it in a Latin exclamation, a translation of which is, " O 
 house antique and religious." The thought may have been 
 suggested by a remembrance of John Rogers, and of Bradford 
 and Ridley, who suffered martyrdom in the preceding reign, and 
 who were all of this college, the last named having been its 
 master, or, as we say, its president. 
 
 The chapel was built in 1665, from designs by Sir Christopher 
 Wren, architect of St. Paul's London. The library contains 
 10,000 volumes. This college has been called Collegium Epis- 
 copate, from the great number of bishops who were here edu- 
 cated. Among her eminent men was the martyr Ridley, who 
 was burned at the stake in 1555; Edmund Spenser the poet, 
 1599 ; and William Pitt, 1806. 
 
 Gonville and Caius College (Caius is called Keys by the stu- 
 dents) is next. It was founded by Edmund de Gonville in 1348. 
 He proceeded to erect buildings, but did not live to carry his 
 design into full execution ; he, however, left money for their 
 completion. In 1557 John Caius, M. D., physician to Queen 
 Mary, endowed the college largely, and, having procured a char- 
 ter of incorporation, it took his name. Dr. Caius was master of 
 his college from 1559 till within a few weeks of his death in 15 73. 
 
 There are in the college grounds three gates, which lead to as 
 many of the courts. One, erected by the Doctor in 1565, has 
 the Latin inscription over it, Humilitatis, meaning, this is the 
 gate of Humility. The second was built in 1567. This has 
 two inscriptions, one on each side. One is Virtutis, the gate 
 of Virtue. On the other side is Jo Caius possuit Sapientl<e, 
 "John Caius built this in honor of Wisdom." The third is 
 inscribed Honoris, the gate of Honor, and was built in 1574. 
 On the north wall of the chapel is an inscription to the founder 
 of the college. It is in Latin, a free translation of which is as 
 follows: "Virtue our Death survives. I was Caius, aged 63, 
 Died July 29, Anno Domini 1573." Dr. Caius gave to the col- 
 lege a beautiful Caduceus, or silver mace, ornamented with four 
 twining serpents; it is two feet and a half long, and, by his 
 direction, is borne before the master at the principal college 
 festivities. 
 
 This has been marked as the Medical College of Cambridge,
 
 300 ENGLAND. 
 
 and has produced a long roll of eminent physicians, among whom 
 is William Harvey, the discoverer of the circulation of blood, 
 in 1657. It has also produced several antiquarians, who were 
 distinguished for their valuable researches. Among her eminent 
 men may be named Sir Thomas Gresham, founder of the Royal 
 Exchange, London, — died 1579; also the distinguished Bishop 
 Jeremy Taylor, 1667. 
 
 The next in order, the fifth, is Trinity Hall. This is the only 
 college which retains its original designation of hall. A few 
 years ago there were three others so called, Pembroke, Clare, 
 and St. Catherine's. The first of these changed appellation 
 about thirty years ago ; the two latter quite recently, to avoid 
 being confounded with the private halls contemplated in the 
 University act, but afterwards changed to hostels. This college 
 was one of the hostels for the accommodation of students, but 
 was purchased by John de Cranden, Prior of Ely, for the monks 
 to study in ; and in the year 1350 it was obtained of the prior 
 and convent of Ely by William Bateman, Bishop of Norwich, 
 with the lands thereto appertaining, who constituted it a " perpet- 
 ual college of scholars of canon and civil law in the University 
 of Cambridge ; " and, in accordance with the founder's inten- 
 tions, it is particularly appropriated to the study of civil law. 
 
 It is situated on the banks of the river, and has three courts. 
 The eminent men are Stephen Gardiner, a distinguished Bishop 
 of Winchester, died 1555 ; Lord Howard of Effingham, com- 
 mander against the renowned Spanish Armada, 1573 ; Thomas 
 Tusser the poet, and author of the somewhat celebrated " One 
 Hundred Points of Good Husbandry," 1580; and, above all, 
 the distinguished Earl of Chesterfield, Philip Dormer Stanhope, 
 1773. Among the bright lights of modern times may be named 
 the late Lord Lytton, the novelist, poet, and statesman ; and 
 also Sir Alexander Cockburn, Lord Chief Justice of England, 
 who took so conspicuous a part in the controversy between 
 England and America concerning the Alabama Claims. 
 
 The sixth is Corpus Christi. Two ancient Saxon guilds were 
 united to form it, and in 1352 King Edward II. granted a license 
 for its founding. This college has one modern and elegant 
 building, the corner-stone of which was laid July 3, 1823. All 
 its appointments are grand. It has in its museum some plate 
 that is very old and curious ; an antique drinking-horn, presented 
 to the guild of Corpus Christi, in 1347, by John Goldcorne ; the 
 cup of the Three Kings, — a small bowl of dark wood mounted 
 with silver ; thirteen silver-gilt spoons, terminated by figures of
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 301 
 
 Christ and the apostles ; an elegant salt-cellar nearly a foot high ; 
 a magnificent ewer and basin ; and a cup with a cover weighing 
 53 ounces. 
 
 Among her eminent men are the justly renowned Mathew 
 Parker, Archbishop of Canterbury, died 1575 ; Christopher Mar- 
 lowe the dramatist, 1593; John Fletcher, the dramatist, and 
 colleague with Beaumont, 1625 ; and Archbishop Tennison of 
 Canterbury, 1 715. 
 
 The seventh is King's. This royal and very magnificent insti- 
 tution arose from the munificence of the meek but unfortunate 
 King Henry VI., who endowed it in 1443. His misfortunes 
 prevented him from carrying out designs which would have made 
 it greatly excel any other college. It was aided, however, by 
 Edward IV. and Richard III., but it was reserved for his thrifty 
 nephew, Henry VII., by devotions in his lifetime and by his 
 will, to provide funds for the completion of the noble edifice. 
 
 However pressed for space, we must employ enough to speak 
 of the remarkable chapel, which is one of the great objects 
 of attraction at Cambridge, and one of the most interesting 
 buildings in Christendom. It is of what is known as the per- 
 pendicular Gothic architecture. Its length is 316 feet. The 
 corner-stone was laid by Henry VI., July 25, 1446. The work 
 progressed till 1484, when it came to a standstill for want of 
 funds; but in 1508 Henry VII. took it in hand, contributing 
 .£5,000, and his executors bestowed £5,000 more in 15 13. It 
 was not till July 29, 15 15, in the seventh year of Henry VIII., 
 that the exterior was finished. This was just 69 years from its 
 commencement. Nothing more was done till 1526, when ar- 
 rangements were made for the fine painted glass windows. The 
 elegant screen-work and elaborate oak stalls were put up in 1534. 
 All this work is very curiously carved, and was done when Anne 
 Boleyn was queen ; the west side is ornamented with several 
 lover's knots, and the arms of Queen Anne impaled with those 
 of the king. On this screen, in the old cathedral style, is the 
 organ, which is of very large capacity, and in i860 £2,000 was 
 expended on it. 
 
 It would be next to an impossibility to adequately describe 
 this magnificent interior. It is of very great height, and the 
 ceiling is of fan-tracery of the most elaborate design of open- 
 work cut in stone. Arms of all the kings of England, from 
 Henry V. to James I., are here. The painted glass windows, 
 twenty-five in number, are remarkably large, and for brilliancy 
 of color and artistic design are surpassed by none in the world.
 
 302 ENGLAND. 
 
 They represent Old and New Testament scenes. The designs 
 are entirely English, and the date of their manufacture ranges 
 from 1516 to 1532, so that the very latest is more than 346 
 years old, or 88 years before the Pilgrims set sail for America. 
 Choral service is performed in the chapel every afternoon. The 
 grounds are very grand, and too much cannot be thought or 
 said of this institution. 
 
 Among her eminent men were Robert Woodlark, founder of 
 St. Catherine College ; Sir Francis Walsingham, secretary of 
 state to Queen Elizabeth ; Bishop Pearson, author of the cele- 
 brated " Exposition of the Creed ; " and Sir Robert Walpole, 
 the renowned and royal minister of state. 
 
 We cannot leave these grounds without asking the reader to 
 go with us to the great and single-arch stone bridge, — King's 
 Bridge, — and for a moment enjoy the grand views to be had 
 from it. To the right is to be seen the front of the Fellows' 
 Building and the west end of the great chapel. Immediately in 
 front is Clare College, with its picturesque bridge. The bridges 
 and avenues make a grand view, bounded in the distance by the 
 grounds of Trinity College. On the other side the view is of a 
 more retired character. In the distance to the left are the spires 
 and turrets of Queen's College, and extending along the side of 
 the river is the terraced walk and quiet shady grove of the same 
 institution. The venerable avenue at right-angles with this, tra- 
 dition has long pointed out as the favorite walk of Erasmus ; and 
 in deference to this tradition the University purchased it of the 
 town, by whom it was doomed at one time to destruction. 
 
 Queen's College is the eighth in order. This, in its archi- 
 tecture, history, and plan, is one of the most picturesque and 
 interesting of all the colleges. It was founded in 1448 by 
 Margaret of Anjou, consort of Henry VI., who, amidst a career 
 perhaps one of the most troubled and chequered on record, 
 found time and means to emulate the example of her royal 
 husband, and, while he was erecting King's College, became the 
 foundress of this. The civil wars interrupted the work, but 
 Andrew Doket, the first master, by good management secured 
 the patronage of Elizabeth Woodville, consort of Edward IV., 
 who set apart a portion of her income for its endowment, and 
 she has since been annually celebrated as a co-foundress. 
 
 Among the things of especial interest is a sun-dial, said to have 
 been made by Sir Isaac Newton ; and next is the Erasmus Court 
 and tower. When the erudite and ingenious Erasmus visited 
 England, at the invitation of his friend Bishop Fisher, then
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 303 
 
 Chancellor of the University, he chose this college as his place 
 of residence, " having his study," says Fuller, " at the top of the 
 southwest tower of the court now called by his name." This 
 college, like many others, has gardens and fine grounds on both 
 sides of the river. They are connected by a wooden bridge of 
 one span, — an ingenious piece of carpentry, and frequently called 
 the Mathematical Bridge. To the right of this is the Grove, a 
 most inviting place for quiet meditation. The terraced walk on 
 the banks of the river is a delightful spot, shaded by lofty over- 
 hanging elms, at the end of which a striking view is obtained 
 beneath the great stone arch of King's Bridge. 
 
 The eminent members here, or a few of the vast lot, were 
 John Fisher, the master of the college and Bishop of Rochester, 
 who was beheaded 1535 ; Thomas Fuller, D. D., the great Church 
 historian, 1561 ; Dr. Isaac Milner, master, and Bishop of Car- 
 lisle, 1820; and Samuel Lee, the eminent linguist, 1852. 
 
 On the opposite side of the street is the ninth college, St. 
 Catharine's, founded in 1475, by Robert Woodlark, D. D. The 
 chapel was consecrated 1 704, by Simon Patrick, Bishop of Ely. 
 The especially eminent men here are John Bradford, martyred 
 1 5 55 j J°hn Strype, the learned ecclesiastical historian, 1 737 ; and 
 Benjamin Hoadley, Bishop of Winchester. It was he who gave 
 rise to what is known as the celebrated Bangorian Controversy, 
 in 1 761. 
 
 The next college in order of date, the tenth, is Jesus. It has 
 a most rural situation and pleasing aspect, for it is located back 
 some distance from the road, and is charmingly surrounded with 
 gardens, which give it a very domestic character. 
 
 As a general thing, the main college buildings at Cambridge 
 are out, bounding the street or road ; but this one is beautifully 
 situated as named, and its retired position is said to have called 
 forth the remark of James I., that if he lived at the University 
 he would pray at King's, eat at Trinity, and study and sleep at 
 Jesus. It occupies the site of an old Benedictine nunnery, dedi- 
 cated to St. Rhadegund, founded in the reign of Henry II. 
 Towards the close of the fifteenth century the nuns became no- 
 torious for their dissolute lives and extravagance ; and in a few 
 years the buildings fell into decay, and their remains were so 
 wasted that only two nuns were left. At this period John Al- 
 cock, Bishop of Ely, determined to convert it into a college ; and 
 in 1497 he obtained letters-patent to put the college into pos- 
 session of the property belonging to the nunnery, and the latter 
 institution was dissolved.
 
 304 ENGLAND. 
 
 The college has four courts, and its chapel is second only to 
 that at King's College. Among its ancient men were Cranmer 
 the martyr, burnt at Oxford 1556 ; Lawrence Sterne, the author 
 of" Tristram Shandy," 1 768 ; and Samuel Taylor Coleridge, 1835. 
 
 The next, and the eleventh, is Christ's. This was founded 
 1456, by Margaret Beaufort, Countess of Richmond, and moth- 
 er of Henry VII. Itaroseoutof a hostel called Cod's House, 
 which had been endowed by Rev. William Byngham of London 
 in 1442. In 1505, Lady Margaret obtained a license from her 
 own son, Henry VII., to change its name to Christ's College, 
 and endow it. The library contains 9,000 books, among which 
 are many that are ancient and very valuable ; there are also a 
 great number of manuscripts and curious old works, particularly 
 a splendid copy of the Nuremburg Chronicle in Latin, printed in 
 1494. The college also possesses some beautiful old plate, 
 which belonged to the foundress, especially two exquisite salt- 
 cellers, engraved with Beaufort badges, and a set of Apostle 
 spoons. The garden is very tastefully laid out, and contains a 
 bowling-green, a summer-house, and a bath ; but the great attrac- 
 tion of all others to visitors is the celebrated mulberry-tree 
 planted by John Milton when he was a student. The trunk is 
 much decayed, but the damaged parts are covered with sheet 
 lead. It is banked up with earth covered with grass, being also 
 carefully propped up, and every means used for its preservation ; 
 though so aged, it is still vigorous, and produces excellent fruit. 
 From the southeast of this garden most charming views are had 
 through the foliage, of King's College Chapel and other buildings. 
 Among the eminent men were Latimer the martyr, 1557 ; John 
 Milton, 1674; Archdeacon Paley, author of the Evidences, 
 1805 ; and Francis Quarles, author of the Emblems, 1644. 
 
 Our next, and twelfth, is St. John's, and derives its name from 
 a hospital dedicated to St. John the Evangelist, founded in the 
 reign of Henry II., which occupied the site of the present college. 
 It was founded, like the one last named, by Countess Richmond, 
 mother of Henry VII. After having founded Christ College, 
 she was induced by Bishop Fisher of Rochester to found this. 
 In 1505 she took measures for converting St. John's Hospital 
 into a college, but various causes prevented its being done in 
 her lifetime ; but she added a codicil to her will empowering her 
 executors to carry out her design. She died June 29, 1509, and 
 the college was opened July 29, 15 16. Rich endowments, made 
 since, have raised it considerably above the original design, and 
 it now ranks as second college of the University.
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 305 
 
 The new chapel is one of the most elegant structures in the 
 kingdom. The corner-stone was laid in 1864. It was from 
 designs by Scott, and cost ^53,000. It is 193 feet long, and 
 52 feet wide, divided into chapel proper and ante-chapel. The 
 tower is 1 63 feet high including the pinnacles. It is very massive, 
 and is open on the inside to a height of 84 feet. As at King's 
 College, attempts at full description must not be made. It is 
 enough to say that the finish of the interior is extravagantly ele- 
 gant, and that the windows are remarkable for their wealth of 
 imagery, and brilliant color. We will venture to say that the 
 ceiling of the great chapel is vaulted in oak, in nineteen bays, 
 decorated by a continuous line of full-length figures, and by scroll- 
 work in polychrome. In the central bay at the east end is a 
 representation of Our Lord in Majesty. The other eighteen 
 bays contain figures illustrating the eighteen Christian centuries 
 after the first one, and are indescribably grand in design and 
 execution. They are mainly devoted to representation of the 
 bishops, college-founders, or of her most eminent men, and we 
 give the ninth century panel as an illustration. It portrays 
 Henry Martyn, missionary of India, William Wilberforce, states- 
 man, William Wordsworth, poet, Thomas Whytehead, missionary 
 to New Zealand, Dr. Wood, Master of St. John's College and 
 Dean of Ely. 
 
 Passing out of the third court by an archway on the south 
 side, a picturesque old bridge of three arches leads us to the col- 
 lege walks and gardens, which are more pleasantly laid out and 
 more diversified than any others of the University ; from them a 
 fine view is obtained of the library and bridge of Trinity College. 
 These walks consist of a series of terraces, and retired paths en- 
 compassing meadows, which are planted with fine trees, among 
 which are some stately elms. Beyond these is the Fellows' 
 Garden, or Wilderness, a large piece of ground containing a 
 bowling-green ; and the trees are planted in such order as 
 to resemble, when in leaf, the interior of a church. These 
 grounds are said to have been laid out by Matthew Prior, the 
 poet. Of her eminent ones may be named the famous Ben 
 Jonson, 1637 ; Thomas Wentworth, Earl of Strafford, beheaded 
 1641 ; Mark Akenside and Henry Kirk White, poets, who died 
 1770 and 1806. 
 
 The thirteenth is Magdalen, which occupies a portion of the 
 site of a Benedictine priory, established about 1430. On the 
 suppression of monasteries by Henry VIII. this college would 
 soon have become extinct, had not Lord Audley of Walden
 
 306 ENGLAND. 
 
 procured in 1542 a grant of it, and a charter to establish on its 
 site a college to be named St. Mary Magdalen College. It has 
 but two courts, and the first is next the street. 
 
 Among the matters of especial interest is the library of Samuel 
 Pepys, Esq., who died in 1703, and left his whole collection of 
 books and manuscripts to this college. In the library is that 
 curious and inexpressibly interesting manuscript, the original of 
 the celebrated Diary of Mr. Pepys. We confess that nothing in 
 any of the college libraries was of so much interest as were these 
 works of the gossipy Pepys, and so while at this college it was 
 our good fortune to examine the original manuscripts of the re- 
 markable Diary in six volumes, about eight inches or so square, 
 and two inches thick. If we say that the short-hand resembles 
 almost strictly any of our present styles of phonography, with 
 here and there a word fully written out, we give the best possible 
 idea of it. All is exceedingly clean and free from any blot or 
 blemish, and just such as may be imagined would have been 
 prepared by the nice Pepys. The Diary was to us, before, one 
 of a few choice books ; and now since we have seen his work, and 
 his portrait by Sir G. Kneller, we are more than ever if possible 
 in mood to think well of him who has written as none but he 
 could or would write. 
 
 The distinguished personages of this college, besides Pepys, 
 are Bryan Walton, Bishop of Chester and editor of the Polyglot 
 Bible, who died in 1661 ; Dr. James Dupont, the celebrated 
 Greek Professor, and master of the college, 1679 ; and that other 
 learned divine and college master, Dr. Daniel Wheatland, 1 740. 
 
 The fourteenth is Trinity, and without question this is the 
 noblest collegiate institution of the kingdom, whether we regard 
 the number of its members, or the extent and value of its build- 
 ings, or the illustrious men who have been educated within its 
 walls. A large volume might be written in relation to these, and 
 then but a synopsis be given. It is composed, or rather was 
 organized, of others, — St. Michael's House, founded in 1324, 
 King's Hall, in 1337, and Physwick's Hostel, the most important 
 institution of that kind in Cambridge, and with this was included, 
 six other minor hostels. These, in 1546, were surrendered to 
 Henry VIII. as a preparatory step to the founding of one mag- 
 nificent college, and he by letters-patent, Dec. 19, 1546, founded 
 this in honor of the Holy and Undivided Trinity, and endowed it 
 with very considerable possessions ; but his death in a few weeks 
 after stopped whatever further he may have contemplated. 
 His son and successor Edward VI. issued the statutes of the col-
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 307 
 
 lege, and his daughter, Queen Mary, considerably augmented 
 its endowments. 
 
 The courts, five in number, are very elegant and full of inter- 
 est, but we must pass all by, simply stating that what is called the 
 Old Court is said to be the most spacious quadrangle in the 
 world and is in dimensions as follows, for the four sides respect- 
 ively, omitting inches, 287 feet, 344 feet, 256 feet, and 325 feet, 
 giving an area of 79,059 square feet. 
 
 There is nothing done in the preparation of this series of 
 articles that demands a greater sacrifice of inclination to the 
 contrary than does this abrupt termination of what would be a 
 long and interesting statement, but limited space forbids even 
 the record of full regrets. Of thousands of eminent men here 
 educated may be named the illustrious philosophers Bacon and 
 Newton, who died in 1626, 1727 ; also Crowley, Dryden, Byron, 
 and Crabbe, poets ; Dr. Isaac Barrow, the learned divine ; Rich- 
 ard Porson, the eminent Greek critic and scholar ; and Lord 
 Macaulay, the historian and essayist ; and we cannot well refrain 
 from adding that there also was educated England's greatest 
 modern poet, Alfred Tennyson. 
 
 Having begun a somewhat extended description of the colleges 
 composing this famed university, we are devoting more space to 
 them than at first anticipated, but feel justified, as the subject is 
 one of great interest to us all, our own University City being most 
 intimately related to it ; and so we speak of the remaining 
 of the seventeen colleges before we proceed to speak of other 
 items of interest. 
 
 The next in order, the fifteenth, is one of very great moment 
 to us of New England, for our interests are so closely connected 
 with it ; and that is Emanuel, which occupies the site of a dissolved 
 monastery of Dominicans, or Black Friars. On the dissolution 
 of monasteries this site was granted to Edward Ebrington and 
 Humphrey Metcalf, of whose heirs it was purchased by Sir Wal- 
 ter Mildmay. This distinguished statesman was one of the most 
 eminent adherents of what were termed Puritanical principles ; 
 and, with possibly the idea of establishing a nursery of those doc- 
 trines, in the year 1584 he obtained from Queen Elizabeth a 
 charter for the incorporation of this college. 
 
 No college of the University has done so much toward decid- 
 ing the fortunes, and it may be said the existence of New Eng- 
 land, as has this. Established in 1584, which was but 29 years 
 after the burning of the martyrs at Smithfield and Oxford, and 
 coming into existence as it were in spite of those deeds of dark-
 
 308 ENGLAND. 
 
 ness, it became the one of all others to which those stanch men 
 and advancing ones would send their sons, and a grand and 
 mighty power was wielded, and strength and even respectability 
 were given to the movement. This college is intimately con- 
 nected with our history ; and New England will not have done 
 her duty, nor availed herself of a good privilege that is hers, till 
 in these college-grounds she has erected a memorial to those 
 determined and worthy men who did so much for New England. 
 
 John Robinson, the Pilgrims' minister, who was to have come 
 to America the next spring but who died before his eyes could 
 be gladdened by the sight, was educated at Emanuel. To our 
 disgrace be it said, his dust to-day moulders in the soil of Hol- 
 land, without so much as a plain slab to tell of his resting-place ; 
 and only as the guide in the church informs one, in reply to a 
 request to be pointed to the spot, is the resting-place of the 
 great departed ever seen. 
 
 Thomas Shepard and Henry Dunster, the latter our Harvard's 
 second president, — these also to-day in their death, as they did in 
 life, honor this as their Alma Mater. 
 
 The library contains 20,000 volumes, and some very rare and 
 valuable manuscripts. The building itself was for nearly a century 
 the college chapel ; but so much of the Puritan element was 
 here, that the chapel proper was never consecrated. Little 
 however, did this trouble the worshippers, but the contrary was 
 the case. By-and-by the church was in the ascendant, and 
 then, "in 1677, a new chapel had been built from designs by the 
 celebrated Wren, " built due east and west," and all the appli- 
 ances came of a non-dissenting church, consecrated by Bishop, 
 and from then till now in good established use. 
 
 Here were educated William Sancroft, the renowned Bishop 
 of London at the time of building St. Paul's Cathedral, and 
 afterwards Archbishop of Canterbury, in 1693 ; Sir William 
 Temple, statesman and essayist, 1700; and Dr. Parr, 1825. 
 This, with the next college to be described, was considered by 
 Archbishop Laud, as a very dangerous institution, and he desig- 
 nated the two as nurseries of Puritanism. 
 
 That sister college — the sixteenth, Sidney Sussex — was built 
 on the site of a monastery of Gray Friars. On the subjugation of 
 their institution it was granted by Henry VIII. to Trinity College, 
 of whom it was purchased by the executors of Frances, daughter 
 of Sir William Sidney, and widow of Thomas Radcliffe, third Earl 
 of Sussex ; who, by will dated Dec. 6, 1588, bequeathed ^5,000 
 and some other property to found this college, and the corner-
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 309 
 
 stone was laid May 20, 1590. The building was completed in 
 three years, and the college at once took a high rank and good 
 standing. It will always be celebrated for its connection with 
 Oliver Cromwell, who entered here as a student April 26, 1 616, at 
 the age of seventeen, and on the college books is the following 
 record : — 
 
 Oliverus Cromwell Hiintingdoniensis admissus ad commeatum 
 siciorum Aprilis vicesimo sexto, tutore mag Ricardo Howlet. 
 
 An amusing interpolation in a different and later handwriting 
 appears, and speaks of him as : — 
 
 Grandis impostor; earn if ax perditissimus, ete. 
 
 His father dying the next year, and leaving no property, the 
 son was obliged to leave college ; but, as Bishop Burnett was 
 pleased to say, " some Latin stuck to him." His room was one 
 in which is an Oriel window, on Bridge Street. There is in the 
 master's lodge a fine portrait of the great Protector, made near 
 the close of his life, and it is said to be remarkably faithful to 
 the original. The long coarse gray hair is parted in the middle 
 and reaches venerably to the shoulders. The forehead is high, 
 majestic, and bold, and has a deeply marked line between the 
 eyes, which are gray, and suggesting the repose of a vast power. 
 The complexion is high-colored, mottled, and the features are 
 large and rugged like the nature of the man himself; but it has 
 
 — now that the feverish dream of his eventful life has declined 
 
 — come to appear to have, by new interpretations and as seen 
 through new mediums, a calm, dignified, and, some would say, 
 a benevolent look. It is enough for one college that for a year 
 Cromwell was her foster-child. 
 
 And now, for centuries, founding at Cambridge ends. Puri- 
 tanism has set the world astir. The church, reformed as she 
 prided herself to be, had her hands full to look after the already 
 educated ones, and so no more founding of colleges for a long 
 time was to be done ; and we bridge over the chasm of 121 
 years, till, in 171 7, Sir George Downing qualifiedly devised sev- 
 eral valuable estates fur the founding of a college within the 
 precin< ts of the University ; and so this is the seventeenth, and 
 the last in order. 
 
 I [e died in 1749. The sole inheritor of the property died in 
 I;'*.}, and left the estates to his lady; but the terms of Sir 
 rill being that if his heirs died without issue the prop- 
 erty was to go to the founding of a college as named, the estate 
 'limed by the I j ; and after years of litigation the 
 
 validity of the will •. Ij bed, and the seal was affixed to 
 
 barter of the new college, Sept 22, 1800.
 
 310 ENGLAND. 
 
 The corner-stone was laid with great ceremony, May 18, 1807, 
 and it was opened in May, i82i,or more than 225 years from the 
 date of the opening of the next one preceding it. The date oi the 
 founding of the first one, St. Peter's, being 1257, a period of 564 
 years intervened between the establishment of that first and this 
 last one ; and in all, from then till now, 626 years have passed, or 
 more than a third of all the time since the birth of Christ. 
 
 However pleasant it would be to pass in review a few of the 
 thoughts that come as it were demanding attention, we must pass 
 all. Replete with interest are these two great centres of learn- 
 ing, Cambridge and Oxford, England's Yale and Harvard. 
 How the destinies of men and nations, the civilized world over, 
 have been not only influenced, but made and controlled by their 
 influence ! What hallowed grounds are these classic walks amid 
 these trees, by the River Cam ! How interesting are these venera- 
 ble weather-worn walls, these courts, these half-destroyed stairs 
 of stone, rasped away, and deep into, by feet of men distin- 
 guished and great in all the departments of intellectual life ! 
 
 It was our intention to have spoken extendedly of the govern- 
 ment of these institutions, and of many things pertaining to 
 them, but we must refer the reader to the more appropriate 
 sources of information for that. We would have spoken also of 
 those grand old dining-halls, of which every college has one. 
 Some of them are many centuries old, with quaint rich finish of 
 old English oak, high open- timber roofs, fine windows, and grand 
 old portraits adorning their walls. These halls are museums 
 of interest inexpressible. Here are the very benches on 
 which the boys sat, the greatest men of earth in embryo. The 
 libraries, with their mementoes, their curious and rare old articles 
 and books and paintings! How well we know that not one of 
 our readers, who has not seen these things, can even approxi- 
 mately comprehend what we write. The old and new chapels ! 
 What repositories of greatness, and what charms inhere ! 
 
 We would have spoken of great things outside the University, 
 for there are many that are indeed great, and they crowd them- 
 selves up now, if for nothing more, for an honorable mention. 
 The Fitzwilliam Museum has grand picture-galleries, and works 
 of art and antiquity incredible ; the building itself is a marvel 
 of good architecture. Old St. Benedict's Church, one of the 
 most perfect examples of Saxon architecture in England, is a 
 thousand years old, with an extremely ancient burial-ground 
 surrounding it. Old and grand St. Edward's was erected in 
 1 350, — 533 years ago. Here Latimer preached. How venerable
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 311 
 
 and calm, interesting to admiration, is its little cemetery, 500 
 years old. The Church of St. Mary the Great, begun in 1478, 
 completed in 15 19, was towerless till 1608 ; and in the 130th 
 year later arose the grand and imposing tower we now behold. 
 That classical structure, the University Library, has 230,000 
 printed books and 3,000 manuscripts, of every language and 
 tongue, — all this in addition to the 1 7 other libraries of the re- 
 spective colleges ! The great Geological Museum is excelled by 
 none in the world ; St. Michael's Church, built in 1324, is elegant 
 now and in grand repair ; as one has expressed it, " the old 
 structure is to-day the most seemly and creditable in the town." 
 The ancient Round Church consecrated in n 01, and afterwards 
 restored, in a sense is itself a worshipper, as well as a place of 
 worship for humanity. 
 
 We must speak of that curious fragment of architecture of the 
 twelfth century, the School of Pythagoras. How quaint, how 
 more than ancient ! And we can only speak of — and, as it were, 
 by the act slight that other antiquity — Barnwell Priory, founded 
 in 1 1 12, by old Payne Peverd, for Augustine canons. Once a 
 place of magnificence, it declined, with none to care for it. At 
 length a single department remained, and now that has come to 
 the ignominious use of a common private stable. The Anato- 
 mical Museum, and the fine Botanical Gardens of thirty-eight 
 acres, deserve mention. They shall have that much ; they de- 
 serve volumes in their praise. 
 
 In closing a list of these objects of interest we name only one 
 more, the Hobson Conduit. This is one of the things of gen- 
 eral interest, for the students of the University for 200 years 
 have looked upon it time-and-time-again. It is an octagonal 
 structure, monumental in design, crowned with a cyma-recta 
 dome, and having niches in each of the principal sides. Below 
 these is a moulded octagonal section, resting on a square plain 
 base. It was built in 1610, and stands at the city end of an 
 artificial water-course leading from a place called the Nine 
 Wells, three miles distant, and supplies the city with water. 
 From the Hobson Conduit pipes distribute it over the place. 
 Hobson's name is closely connected with Cambridge. He was 
 born here in 1544, and is said to have been the first person in 
 the kingdom who adopted the System of letting out hoist's for hire, 
 and history says he did a flourishing business with the University 
 
 Students. He made it an unalterable rule that every horse 
 should have an equal portion of rest as well as labor, and would 
 
 never let one go out except in its turn ; hence the 1 clebrated
 
 312 ENGLAND. 
 
 saying often heard nowadays, when more than two hundred 
 years old, repeated in America, " Hobson's choice, — this or 
 none." lie died Jan. i, 1631, and though he had attained the 
 patriarchal age of eighty-six, his death is attributed to his being 
 obliged to discontinue his journey to London, while the plague 
 was raging in Cambridge, and to this fact Milton alludes in the 
 two humorous epitaphs he wrote on him. 
 
 There is one matter of interest yet remaining to be spoken of, 
 and that relates to the government of the University. As before 
 named, there are in all seventeen colleges. Each is an inde- 
 pendent body, but is subject to the code of laws of the Uni- 
 versity, and in their administration all bear their share. The 
 principal officer of the University is the Chancellor. His power 
 is, strange to say, only nominal, and is, at that, delegated to a 
 Vice-Chancellor elected annually from one of the heads of col- 
 leges. He is considered for the year the governor of this literary 
 commonwealth. On all official occasions he is preceded by 
 three Esquire Bedells, each bearing a large silver mace. There 
 are next, elected annually, two Proctors, to attend to the disci- 
 pline of the students of all the colleges, and assist in the general 
 management of the University. Next is the Public Orator, who 
 acts as the mouthpiece on all public occasions. We next have 
 what are called Syndices, who are members of committees 
 chosen to transact all special University business. There are 
 many other minor officers, but those are the more important. 
 The members of the University are, like our own, divided into 
 two great orders, graduates and undergraduates, or those who 
 have taken their degress, and those who are yet students, and 
 not graduated. 
 
 Each college also has its head, or, as we term it, President. 
 At this University they are termed Masters, or sometimes, though 
 less generally, Heads. Then, each has more or less members 
 who are called Fellows. These are such as are maintained by 
 the college revenues. Next are Pensioners ; these are the ordi- 
 nary students, who simply pay their own expenses, receiving 
 no pecuniary advantage from the college. What are termed 
 Scholars are students who, having displayed superior attain- 
 ments, are elected by examination to have rooms rent free, 
 payments of money, and other advantages, as a good and hon- 
 orable residence and welcome at their Alma Mater. Finally are 
 the Sizars. These are students of limited means, who have their 
 commons free, and receive other emoluments. It may be well 
 to mention that each college has its own peculiar undergradu-
 
 CAMBRIDGE. 313 
 
 ate's gown, and that most of the degrees and faculties are dis- 
 tinguished by different costumes. The total number of members 
 of the University is about 8,000. The University sends to the 
 House of Commons two members, who are chosen by the col- 
 lective body of the senate. 
 
 The revenues of the separate colleges are large, and derived 
 from endowments and fees ; but those of the University are small 
 and rarely exceed ^5,500 a year. The students are divided 
 into four classes : Noblemen, who pay ^50 caution money ; 
 Fellow-Commoners, who pay ^25, and who receive their name 
 from their privilege of dining, — having their commons at the 
 table of their fellows; Pensioners, who pay ^15, and form the 
 great body of the students not on the foundation ; and Sizars, 
 who pay £ 10 and are students whose poverty prevents their 
 taking advantage of many of the privileges of the University, 
 though they are not shut out from any of its educational facili- 
 ties. Sizars were once obliged to perform the most menial 
 offices, but for many years this custom has been abolished. The 
 matriculation fees for these classes of students are respectively as 
 follows, ;£ 16, £11, £ 5. 10 j., and ^5. 5 s. 
 
 There are various degrees of payment for tuition, according to 
 the degree and condition of the members, and slightly varying 
 in the several colleges. The annual, unavoidable average ex- 
 penses of an undergraduate or student are about £70, or $350. 
 There are in the University 430 fellowships tenable for life, but 
 in most cases conditioned upon taking holy orders within a given 
 period, and their value varies from ^"100 to £ s°° per annum. 
 Since the days of Newton, Cambridge has been the chosen seat 
 of mathematical science, but the tendency to make it a strong- 
 hold of learning in all the various branches has been increasing 
 of late years. 
 
 It would be a pleasing work to follow on and give more ex- 
 tended notes of this great seat of learning. One while here is 
 conscious that he is in no common place, for on this spot many 
 of the mighty and really influential of earth began their great 
 careers. No equal quantity of the earth's surface has been 
 trodden by greater men than have walked here, and reverently 
 we take our leave of the famed place, well conscious of what we 
 have not spoken of. 
 
 if 1880 gave the number in college as 1,399; 
 1.409 in ! total, 2,81 
 
 following returns, compiled by the University Marshals, 
 show the present Dumber of residents at the various colleges,
 
 314 
 
 ENGLAND. 
 
 and also the number of unattached students. In the returns, 
 graduates as well as undergraduates are included. 
 
 In college. In lodgings. Total resident. 
 
 Trinity 335 340 675 
 
 St. John's 215 195 410 
 
 Jesus 74 '47 221 
 
 Caius 100 98 198 
 
 Trinity- Hall 53 105 158 
 
 Christ's 7° 80 150 
 
 Pembroke 49 87 136 
 
 Corpus Christi 79 45 124 
 
 Clare 56 68 124 
 
 King's 68 30 98 
 
 Emanuel 66 27 93 
 
 Magdalen 47 '6 63 
 
 Queen's 41 19 60 
 
 St. Catharine's 39 21 60 
 
 St. Peter's 55 3 5» 
 
 Downing 30 20 56 
 
 Sidney 4' 12 53 
 
 Non-Ascripti o 162 162 
 
 1,418 1,481 2,899 
 
 We now take our departure for London, completing the round 
 trip which has employed twenty days inclusive. No like num- 
 ber can ever be filled with more satisfaction, or be replete with 
 a greater interest. The route gone over is in all respects one 
 that the experience has proved admirable and to be relied upon, 
 as giving a sample of the best things that England and Scotland 
 have to exhibit.
 
 LONDON. 315 
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 LONDON — WINDSOR — STOKE POGES. 
 
 WE are now, at 10.30 a.m., back in London, after a 
 ride of two hours from Cambridge. The old charm 
 of London still remains. It never would grow old. 
 We have two days left, before we start for the continent, and 
 employ them to the best advantage we can. The first, and a 
 very natural act, is to go to our banker's in Philpot Lane, for 
 letters and papers from home, and also to obtain some of that, 
 the love of which one of old thought the root of all evil. Next, 
 home to our old lodgings at No. 46 Woburn Place, for reading 
 documents and writing replies. Next we take an omnibus ride 
 down through High Holborn to Newgate Street, and alight near 
 St. Paul's. It 's full time that we go there again, and to worship 
 in our own way. Delighted even more than at first, we find 
 ourselves unable to comprehend it. First views are never as 
 comprehensive as later ones. 
 
 A feast of contemplation here, and then a walk through Cheap- 
 side, to view once more the Fire Monument. It stands in Fish 
 Street and was built to commemorate the great fire of 1666. In 
 design it is first a platform, on which is a pedestal 2 1 feet square, 
 with a moulded base 28 feet square. It has a bold cornice, 
 and all, to the top of this, is 40 feet high. On the top of this 
 pedestal is a Roman Doric column, and above all is a vase, or 
 urn, with what was designed to represent a flame issuing out of 
 its top. The flame is gilded, and the entire monument is 215 
 feet high, or but five feet less than ours at Bunker Hill. It is so 
 located that, should it be laid down lengthwise in a certain direc- 
 tion, extending from its present location, it would exactly reach 
 the spot at which the fire originated in Pudding Lane. 
 
 Her by the way to remark that in London the idea 
 
 — and no bad one — prevails of retaining old familiar n 
 Philpot Pane is yet the cognomen for the place of eminent 
 bankers. Mincing Lane 1 the seat for certain kinds of mer 
 chandise traffic. Fish Street retains its name as at the time of
 
 316 ENGLAND. 
 
 the fire : and Piccadilly, Chcapside, Paternoster Row, High 
 Holborn, and Crutched Friars are, to most Americans, even as 
 common as household words. 
 
 The monument is built of the white Portland sandstone ; and 
 inside. Bunker Hill Monument like, are circular stairs, 345 in 
 number, leading to the iron gallery around on top of the capital 
 of the great column. This gallery was inclosed some years ago 
 with iron-work from the top of the rail, up some 8 feet, and cov- 
 ered at the top, forming an iron cage to prevent people from 
 throwing themselves off with suicidal intentions, as was at times 
 done. The great pedestal at the base contains in its four pan- 
 els bas-reliefs, commemorative of the fire and events connected 
 with the structure's erection. The monument is open daily, and 
 for a small fee visitors are admitted to the gallery cage, from 
 which very commanding views are had of the larger part of Old 
 London, as well as the River Thames, and many outlying places 
 in all directions. As from the top of the cathedral, the pros- 
 pect is charming, and one is delighted as he views and con- 
 templates this largest city of the world, more than two thousand 
 years old, spread out below him ; and how as by magic comes 
 the thought that, from this elevated position, kings, queens, 
 the most renowned ones of the old world and the new, have, 
 as we are doing, looked out upon and been lost in contempla- 
 tion of the scene ! 
 
 The monument was built from designs furnished by Sir 
 Christopher Wren. It was begun in 16 71, and finished in 
 1677. It is justly esteemed as the noblest column in the world, 
 being 24 feet higher than the Trajan Column at Rome. Next 
 a walk to London Bridge, where, as Pepys would have said, 
 "by boat to Westminster." As stated in our other remarks on 
 London, this is an exceedingly pleasant way to travel from one 
 part of London to the other ; the boats ply often and thousands 
 thus travel. And next, another tour through the grand old 
 Abbey, and about the vicinity of Parliament House and West- 
 minster Bridge ; and so the day was well filled up. As at first, 
 very interesting are these London rambles. 
 
 Friday, we are ready to take steam-cars for the famed city of 
 
 WINDSOR, 
 
 for which we start at 9 a. m. The ride of 23 miles is through 
 well cultivated lands. The best of England are these fine sub- 
 urbs. For 2,000 years have these same fields been cultivated, but
 
 WINDSOR. 317 
 
 they seem new and as virgin soil to-day. They are not pover- 
 tized by continual takings-off and no returns, but manures are 
 applied, constant attention is paid, and grand results come. 
 
 At length arrived, we find ourselves in the pretty rural city, 
 with a population of 1 1,769. It is situated on the right bank of 
 the Thames, and presents a very neat appearance, with a smart 
 enterprising condition everywhere apparent. The streets are 
 well paved and lighted, and while there is little that is antique 
 to be seen, yet it is interesting from its look of substantial and 
 finished appearance. Here, at the seeming centre of the place, 
 or at least in the midst of a solid population, is the famed 
 Windsor Castle, and of course this is what we have especially 
 come to see. It is the occasional residence of the Queen, and 
 the buildings cover twelve acres of ground, being surrounded by 
 a terrace on three sides, which is 2,500 feet in length. They 
 stand in an enclosure called the Little Park, which is four miles 
 in circumference, and connected on the south by a long and 
 remarkably fine avenue of trees with the Great Park, which is 
 18 miles in outline ; and then again west of this is the Windsor 
 Forest, having a circuit of 56 miles. Windsor has long been a 
 seat of residence for royal blood, for here resided the Saxon 
 kings before the Norman Conquest. The present castle how- 
 ever is less ancient, as it was founded by William the Conqueror, 
 who died Sept. 9, 1087. It was, however, largely rebuilt by 
 order of Edward III., under the supervision of William of Wyke- 
 ham, the celebrated Bishop of Winchester, who was archi- 
 tect of the remarkably elegant nave of his cathedral, and died 
 Sept. 24, 1404. The antiquity of the castle is from these dates 
 readily seen ; and we may add that one of the reasons which 
 induced us to so often in these articles to give dates of the death 
 of important individuals, was to enable the reader to have data 
 as regards the age of buildings, or of the time of occurrence of 
 events narrated. Various repairs were made after that ; but, so 
 far as general arrangement and design are concerned, no changes 
 were made for centuries, and they so continued till 1824-8, 
 when new work was done and all put in complete condition 
 under the superintendence of Sir Jeffrey Wyatville. 
 
 Visitors are freely admitted to the grounds and the castle, and 
 a company is always present, thousands availing themselves of 
 the privilege. We enter through the gateway from the city 
 thoroughfare, which, as stated, is here very populous, and is even 
 a commen ial part of the pla< e. 
 
 Not far inside the grounds, which here are simply macadam-
 
 318 ENGLAND. 
 
 ized, with no tree or shrub or grass lawn present, we first visit 
 the grand St. George's Chapel, strongly reminding one of the 
 chapel of King's College at Cambridge. The interior is mag- 
 nify cut, with lofty columns and arches, splendid traceried-stone, 
 vaulted ceiling, a rich altar-screen, and stall-work of oak. It 
 has no transepts, but, like the prototype named, is one long, high, 
 and not over-wide room. 
 
 Beneath the chancel is what is called the Royal Vault, in 
 which are the remains of Henry VI., died 147 1 ; Edward IV., 
 1483 : his queen, Margaret of Anjou, 1481 ; Henry VIII., 1547 ; 
 Jane Seymour, his wife, 1537 ; Charles I., 1649 ; George III., 
 1820; his wife, Charlotte Sophia, 181 7; George IV., 1830; his 
 daughter, the Princess Charlotte ; and later, the Duke of Kent, 
 the Duke of York, William IV. and his queen, and other mem- 
 bers of the royal family. 
 
 " Very royal dust this, and in great quantity," says an intense 
 and high civilization ; but, stript of its outward insignia, the roy- 
 alty has gone, for no more is their dust respected by the great 
 laws of nature, than is that of the beggar who sues for an hum- 
 ble pittance at the church door. The great destroyer makes all 
 equal. Death is indeed a great leveller. The king in his marble 
 sarcophagus is a beggar ; and the beggar, uncoffined, it may be, 
 in his common earth-grave, is a king. Harriet Martineau has 
 well said : — 
 
 All men are equal in their birth, 
 Heirs of the earth and skies ; 
 
 All men are equal when that earth 
 Fades from their dying eyes. 
 
 At the rear of St. George's is an ancient chapel, but of late refit- 
 ted on the interior as a mausoleum, or place of burial, of the late 
 Prince Albert, and in a style of magnificence rarely seen and 
 never excelled. This was done at the expense and order of 
 Queen Victoria. The finish around the room, for a quarter of 
 its great height, is of very elaborate workmanship of marbles of 
 various colors ; and above this are beautiful Gothic windows of 
 painted glass, the most brilliant and costly in the kingdom. The 
 room may be 40 feet wide, 75 feet long, and 40 feet high • and at 
 one end is the altar, and a most elegant cenotaph to the especial 
 memory of the worthy Prince. Astonishingly magnificent is 
 all. 
 
 We pass from the chapel to the great Central Tower. This 
 is on a mound of earth, and may be fifty feet in diameter and as 
 many feet high. From the top may be seen miles of the sur-
 
 WINDSOR. 319 
 
 rounding country, and all is indescribably grand. Off some 
 miles, and quietly nestling, embowered in trees, is Newstead Ab- 
 bey, where Byron received his rudimentary education ; and in 
 another direction, five miles away, are two objects of remarkable 
 interest. One is the famous Eton School, one of the celebrated 
 academical institutions of England. The other, to us Americans, 
 if the statement is true, is a place yet more interesting, — the 
 mansion-house, with its ample grounds, once occupied by Wil- 
 liam Penn, the founder of Pennsylvania. Yet a mile beyond is 
 another spot of great fame and renown, the burial-place of the 
 poet Thomas Gray ; and so in sight is the identical old church, 
 to which he refers in his Elegy : — 
 
 Save that from yonder ivy-mantled tower, 
 The moping Owl does to the Moon complain 
 
 Of such as, wandering near her secret bower, 
 Molest her ancient solitary reign. 
 
 A guide, stationed on the flattish roof of the great tower, is 
 glib of tongue, telling of this and that thing to be seen. As he 
 goes around with his company the entire circuit of the parapet, 
 a part of the statement is that he has been stationed here now for 
 eleven years. He likes Americans, he says, and can tell them 
 the moment they appear in view. He thinks them very intelli- 
 gent ; but is amused, he adds, when he asks them where William 
 Penn was buried, for not a man or a woman of them knows. 
 We of course were a source of amusement to him, and were 
 pleased to be the innocent cause of his mirth. Anything, consol- 
 ingly we thought to ourselves, to break the monotony of his life ; 
 and so we were happy in the thought of the contribution we had 
 made, and so unwittingly. 
 
 Down from this, and a walk about the premises, to here and 
 there look over the walls, on the scenes outside and below. A 
 guide came up, and, informing us that he was one of the appointed 
 ones, we submitted ; and so he became the fifth wheel to our 
 coach. We were, however, taken in, — the first time and the last 
 in our journey. When we went to the door of the castle proper 
 we found he must remain outside, or we must pay for his admis- 
 sion. We thought we could find our way to the gate without 
 him, and so we were rid of our encumbrance, though not with- 
 out a tilt of large words in strong S.ixon. 
 
 Thai door passed, we were in the waiting-room ; and soon 
 our turn came, and that of about a dozen others, to make a tour 
 of the place. Certain rooms only arc open to visitors. A por-
 
 320 ENGLAND. 
 
 tion of the structure is devoted to the private uses of the Queen 
 and the royal family ; but the reception-room, banquet-hall, and 
 many semi-private rooms, most elegantly furnished, are open to 
 visitors, and the articles exhibited arc many of them of great 
 value, having belonged to former kings and queen. The guide 
 passes through these rooms with his company, explaining, as he 
 passes, that this room is used for such a purpose, or was occu- 
 pied as a sleeping-room by King So-and-So, or his queen, and that 
 the furniture is now precisely as it was at the time of their death. 
 
 All is very interesting. But never is the situation or fact fully 
 comprehended. To enjoy the sights and be entertained in 
 these royal apartments, once so very private, and into which no 
 common visitor was permitted to enter, is one thing ; but to re- 
 alize the great fact is another. How strange that these domi- 
 cils of kings, and of the high blue-blood of the great realm of 
 England, should come to be museums, gratifying the curiosity 
 of American republicans, the very antipodes of all that is royal 
 or monarchical. 
 
 After a very pleasant stay inside the buildings, we take a look 
 at the exterior and the grounds. The latter, so far as seen by the 
 visit we made,, were simply bare, macadamized squares, but just 
 outside the walls, on the other sides, are the great and elegant 
 park-grounds, arenas, gardens, ponds, waterfalls, fountains, fine 
 old tree-shaded walks ; and every production that brain can 
 devise or wealth procure has been lavished on these acres. 
 The building called Windsor Castle is a vast deal more than a 
 single edifice ; and so, in considering it, let not that mistake be 
 made. It is composed of many parts, or portions, with large 
 open courts, or squares, wholly or partially surrounded by the 
 buildings. The latter are quite irregular in outline, and none of 
 them are very high ; but there are a plenty of square and round 
 towers of different sizes, with battlements around their tops, of 
 castle-like finish, and a variety of windows, to give it the 
 castle look. If any mistake was made by us in advance, it was 
 to anticipate too compact a building, and not enough of great 
 extent, — one too old and ancient in appearance, and of too high 
 an elevation. From the rise of ground on which the castle 
 stands, the whole is conspicuous from many points on the railway, 
 for miles distant ; and the view of the granite-like colored struct- 
 ure — clean, large in extent, very irregular in outline of upper 
 part as seen from these points, the whole beautifully embosomed 
 in thick foliage of trees — presents a charming effect. When 
 the Queen is present, which is for a few weeks at a time at inter-
 
 WINDSOR. 321 
 
 vals, a large flag floats from the top of the great tower, and that 
 is evidence of her royal presence. 
 
 We pass out of the great gate and are again in a seemingly 
 republican street, and things resume an American aspect and 
 appearance. Another dreamish condition we have been in, and 
 now seem back on the substantial ground of common humanity 
 and, we may add, common sense. We breathe freer, and as we 
 think the whole scheme over, of the work doing by John Bright, 
 by Gladstone, and a host of others, — when we remember that 
 now for the first time in English history all of the people, think, 
 talk, and act, — we know the outcome will be good and an ad- 
 vance be made. 
 
 Having been alternately filled with admiration and disgust, — 
 with indescribable charm and wonder, and with grand anticipa- 
 tions of the good time coming, — we say "Another dream-day has 
 come and is passing," and we reluctantly move on and ruthlessly 
 tear ourselves away from these bewitching conditions and con- 
 templations ; and now at 3 p. M. are ready for a visit to the famed 
 Stoke Poges. Ever memorable, and to all coming time it will be, 
 as the spot made classic by Gray's " Elegy in a Country Church- 
 yard." 
 
 At 3.30 p. m. we leave the castle gate, and negotiate for our 
 team to Stoke Pogis, a place of very uneuphonious name, but 
 classic and known the civilized world over. Teams for hire are 
 in abundance, and are with their drivers in waiting for employ- 
 ment. The appearance of a stranger, especially if an American, 
 is a signal for an attack. We had long since learned the art of 
 management of a case of the kind at Montreal and Quebec in 
 our own country, and the flank movement is to appear to be in 
 want of anything but a team. One must work up alongside the 
 boundary line of fact and truth ; and the tendency is to at times 
 cross it and get over on the other side. When taking most 
 notice, and doing best work of selecting, the Yankee, to ap- 
 pearance, never did hire a team, and never will. To make the 
 >t<;ry short we will say that without a beating down as regards 
 price, but to accommodate the driver, who was spoiling to carry 
 us for $3.00, — when at first he, with all his fellows, made a mis- 
 take, and asked S5.00, — we were at length seated in his team ; 
 and, while the army of other drivers were retiring crestfallen, 
 being trundled in the heavy English top-buggy, top turned 
 back, and were being grandly transported through the pretty 
 ts of Windsor, out among the line gardens, and half-metro- 
 politan, half-suburban scenery, on our way to Stoke.
 
 322 ENGLAND. 
 
 Never will be forgotten that inspiring ride, for all the way it 
 was through charming scenery. At times over broad thorough- 
 fares, in which the refinement of a high civilization had for 500 
 years concentrated ; then into narrow lanes finely hedged on 
 their sides, shaded by grand old elms and ever-fragrant lindens, 
 sweet in their good foliage and new blossoms ; and so on and on 
 
 — Dew scenes charming, the clear air invigorating, thoughts of 
 Old England inspiring — we, after the ride of three miles, are 
 at one of the great seats of academical education — the famed 
 Eton School, as well known, and for centuries it has been, as 
 any college at Cambridge or Oxford. This, and that at New- 
 stead Abbey, the old London St. Paul's, the Blue-Coat School, 
 and the Westminster one, are a part of England's history and 
 are as renowned as the soil itself. What a charm there is to the 
 story of Eton and Rugby ! The grounds are ample, well laid 
 out, and contain fine old trees and shrubbery, — k\v or no houses 
 encroaching, or in the neighborhood ; the whole territory has a 
 very retired and rural appearance. There is nothing however of 
 the very antique or ancient look such as we anticipated. As a 
 whole, all was to us, with our pre-conceived idea, too modern 
 and new. The buildings are of brick. .They are somewhat 
 broken in outline and design, but suggested a factory-like 
 appearance. How many poets, philosophers, and men in all the 
 learned walks of life here fitted for the great universities ! How 
 very renowned and sacredly classic are these grounds ! We 
 would stop by the way and enumerate, but must forbear and pass 
 on to the more immediate object of our tour ; for off in the dis- 
 tance, charmingly embowered in trees", is the sharp-pointed 
 spire of the poetically immortalized church, resting on its 
 " ivy-mantled tower." The spire is built of a whitish stone and 
 is very sharply pointed. How alluring and attractive it is, how 
 entrancing is the thought that about it, and so near us, is the 
 " yew tree's shade," of which the pensive poet speaks ! 
 
 We ride on, and pass down into the old lane leading to Lord 
 Taunton's park ; we go into his carriage-path, and how charm- 
 ing the finish of everything, and what sublime repose ! We pass 
 along and arrive on our left at a pleasant, home-like cottage, 
 with a neatly kept yard in front. How familiar the scene ! 
 Honest old hollyhocks, delicate petunias, gorgeous marigolds, 
 sweet mignonette, and such things as are intensely American, 
 and countryish at that, are in profusion. The arrival of a team 
 
 — and many come every day — is the signal for a buxom, rosy- 
 cheeked damsel to come out of the cottage and open the gate.
 
 STOKE POGIS. 323 
 
 No remarks by her. She does not comprehend the scheme. 
 All is mechanically done, and is a result of usage and every-day 
 life. If she thinks at all, it is to wonder why the visitors come. 
 A lesser thing never comprehends a greater. To her, as to any 
 one without a proper standard, as Wordsworth said, — 
 
 A primrose by a river's brim, 
 A yellow primrose was to him, 
 And it was nothing more. 
 
 The fence across our road, of which she opens the gate, is of 
 open-work, iron, plain paling, and encloses one side of the 
 churchyard of which Gray wrote : — 
 
 Where heaves the turf in many a mouldering heap, 
 Each in his narrow cell forever laid, 
 
 The rude forefathers of the hamlet sleep. 
 
 It is an enclosure of perhaps two acres, and simply fenced in 
 from a large grazing-field. The place is by no means solitary in 
 appearance, though no house save the cottage is near it, or in 
 near view, for it is out in the full sunlight, and has for company 
 and suburbs, fine groves, lawns, distant hills, and every accom- 
 paniment of good rural character. As Whittier says of our New 
 England burial-grounds, — 
 
 With flowers or snowflakes for its sod, 
 
 Around the seasons ran, 
 And evermore the love of God 
 
 Rebuked the fear of man. 
 
 The ground inside has a very clean and well-kept, though 
 not especially ancient look. There are many gravestones, and 
 but few monuments. A wide modern path, or carriage-way, 
 leads from the gate to the church itself. The latter, which is 
 perhaps 500 feet from the gate, has a very ancient look. It is 
 low, and built of small flintstones. The roof is very high and 
 presents two gable-ends, with a large Gothic window in each ; 
 at the other end two gables are also shown, with one some 
 higher than the other. The tower is at the extreme right of the 
 building, up at the farther end, and outside of and against the 
 high part before named. It is square, quite large for its height, 
 having a battlement around the top, and every part of it is so 
 1 with ivy as to expose no portion of the stonework to 
 view. The spire above this is very clean, and of a whitish stone. 
 A large portion of the church itself is covered, or mantled, as 
 Gray expressed it, with ivy ; and it may here be added that the
 
 324 ENGLAND. 
 
 ivy is of the common, dark, substantial-leaved kind that we so 
 commonly cultivate in pots, or, in the warmer parts of our coun- 
 try, on the outside of buildings. Who can stand in this place, 
 gazing on this ancient church as the poet Gray many a time did, 
 and not think of that terse and expressive line of the great 
 poem, where he speaks of the quietness of the evening : — 
 
 And all the air a solemn stillness holds. 
 
 The famed " yew-tree's shade " is here, for at our left, as we 
 pass up the great path, or driveway, and near the end of the 
 church which is on our right, with little more than the path 
 named between it and the great tree, the latter stands sentinel- 
 like, as it has stood for a century, — its dark, sombre, fanlike hor- 
 izontal branches reaching almost to the ground, and throwing 
 pall-like shadows over our way. The side walls of the enclosure 
 on two sides, and near the church, are of brick, and their tops 
 and parts of their sides are grandly covered with ivy ; and to the 
 right, in the adjoining lot, are trees and thick shrubbery ; and we 
 are again reminded of Whittier, where he says of one of our 
 country burial-grounds : — 
 
 Without the wall a birch-tree shows 
 
 Its drooped and tasseled head ; 
 Within, a stag-horned sumach grows, 
 
 Fern-leaved, with spikes of red. 
 
 Under the large window of the left gable-end, the one nearest 
 the road, and up five or more feet from the ground, is a marble 
 slab, some fifteen inches high and two feet long, which bears the 
 following inscription : — 
 
 Opposite to this stone, in the same tomb upon 
 which he has so feelingly recorded his grief at 
 the loss of a beloved parent, are deposited the 
 remains of thomas gray, the author of the 
 Elegy written in a Country Churchyard. He 
 was buried August 6, 1771. 
 
 The mother was memorable for her sorrows and her devotion 
 to her family. Her husband was selfish, morose, passionate, 
 and tyrannical. The mother kept a little china-shop to help 
 educate her son. He wrote, for her tombstone in this burial- 
 ground, as follows : — 
 
 Here sleep the remains of Dorothy Gray, 
 widow : the careful, tender mother of many 
 children, one of whom alone had the misfortune 
 to survive her.
 
 STOKE POGIS. 325 
 
 Beautiful in all its conditions was this churchyard ; and while 
 we were here the birds sang merrily, and the sounds of summer 
 and the odor of a new fresh vegetation made it a paradise com- 
 plete. That quiet and repose, usual to a spot so removed from 
 the " busy haunts of men," this hamlet of the dead, seemed to 
 underlie all, and the " calm retreat " was all we had anticipated. 
 
 As we pass out of the gate and into the outlying field, to the 
 left is a stately stone monument, not long ago built to the poet's 
 memory. It is of good design, and on it are befitting quotations 
 from his poetry ; but after all we were sorry to see it. The 
 churchyard, the church itself, the ivy-mantled tower, the Elegy, 
 these are his better monument. He needs no other. It were 
 foolish to " gild refined gold or paint the lily." It is well to 
 say of these, as was said for the great architect of St. Paul's, 
 Sir Christopher Wren, " If you seek his monument, look 
 around you." 
 
 It should be stated, in passing, that another spot claims, and 
 with some little show of reason, that it, and not this, is the fa- 
 mous " country churchyard ; " but, after giving thought to the 
 matter, it appears that till new evidence to the contrary is pro- 
 duced, this spot will have the honors. 
 
 As the Elegy has made this place celebrated, and immor- 
 talized its name as well as that of its composer, it may be well 
 to say that when Gray had completed it, he handed his manu- 
 script to friends, but he himself doubted its merits, and con- 
 scientiously thought it weak and too sentimental. Others, 
 however, saw its value, and, to the author's astonishment, so 
 great was its fame, that on being published, it was soon transla- 
 ted into Greek, Latin, Italian, Portuguese, French, German, and 
 even into Hebrew. 
 
 He was born in Cornhill, London, Dec. 26, 1716. On the 
 30th of July, 1 771, while at dinner, he was attacked with con- 
 vulsions, and died a few days after, in his 55th year. 
 
 Of his memorable prose remarks we give but one selection, 
 which shows the industrious habits and inside life of the man. 
 He said : — 
 
 I am persuaded the best way of living is always to have some- 
 thing going forward. Happy are they who, if they cannot do 
 anything greater, can create a rosebush or erect a honeysuckle. 
 
 As we think of this we are reminded of the like opinion held 
 by the great Daniel Webster, who entertained so much r ;ard 
 
 for the Elegy that he had portions of it read to him but a few
 
 326 ENGLAND. 
 
 hours before his departure. When the statesman was once 
 asked what was in his opinion the best way to enable one to be 
 comfortable during the heat of summer, he replied : " Always 
 have something to do. Keep busy, and you '11 have no time to 
 think of the heat." 
 
 It is said of General Wolf, that while he was floating on the 
 River St. Lawrence, on the evening of Sept. 1 2, 1 759, — the night 
 before his memorable attack on Quebec, in which on the next 
 day he lost his life, — he was beguiling an hour in reading Gray's 
 poems, and closing the book, said : " I had rather be the author 
 of that poem, the Elegy, than to be the captor of Quebec." 
 
 We now turn our feet homeward, and as our carriage passes, 
 we take a distant look, perhaps half a mile away, of the old 
 mansion and grounds once occupied by William Penn, or at 
 least in which he is said to have resided. Of the proof of this 
 we may say that we have none, aside from the assertion of the 
 guide stationed on the tower at the castle and of people who 
 reside in the region. Our history of the great man is somewhat 
 meagre concerning his last days. One of his last official public 
 acts in America was to aid in making our Philadelphia a city, 
 the charter of which was signed Oct. 28, 1701. He soon after 
 returned to England, and was for the next succeeding years in- 
 volved in much trouble on account of his business matters in 
 Pennsylvania, by reason of the vicious conduct of his son, to 
 whom he had intrusted his affairs, and commissioned to act as his 
 representative. And then as now, troubles never come singly ; 
 for after his already eventful life, at the age of 64 a new and 
 grievous trouble was in store for him. At this time died his 
 trusted friend and agent in London, a Quaker by the name 
 of Ford, who left to his executors false claims against Penn to 
 a very large amount. Conscious of his integrity, and to avoid 
 the extortion, he suffered himself to be committed to the Fleet 
 Prison in London. This was in 1 708, and he remained there 
 a long time, till finally released by his friends, who, as best they 
 could, compounded with the creditors. In 1 7 1 2 he made ar- 
 rangements with the crown for a transfer of his rights in Penn- 
 sylvania, receiving from it S6o,ooo. He soon after was afflicted 
 with paralysis ; and though living yet six more years, and experi- 
 encing other shocks which greatly impaired his vigor and facul- 
 ties, especially his memory and power of motion, he finally died 
 at Ruscombe, Berkshire, July 30, 1718, at the age of 74, and 
 was buried in Jordan, a Quaker burial-ground, near the village of 
 Chalfont, in Buckinghamshire.
 
 STOKE POGIS. 327 
 
 In passing we remark that, during the plague at London in 
 1665, Milton made Ruscombe his residence, and that here he 
 finished his great poem, " Paradise Lost." And who can say how 
 much of the coloring of the celebrated poem is not to be attrib- 
 uted to the trouble the people of London, as well as the great 
 bard, were, in consequence of the plague, experiencing? This 
 parish is about twenty miles north of Stoke Pogis, in the county 
 of Buckingham, as before named. 
 
 We took our team back for Windsor, and train from there to 
 London, arriving at 8.30 p. m., — well repaid for our labors of the 
 eventful day, if labor which was a perpetual pleasure can be so 
 called. For the first time in one's life, being at and seeing 
 Windsor Castle and the seat of the great Elegy ! A great thing 
 doing and done ! A long breath, and no befitting remark ; only 
 silence, thankfulness, and contemplation avail.
 
 328 ENGLAND. 
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 LONDON — HAMPTON COURT — ROCHESTER — CHATHAM — 
 CANTERBURY. 
 
 SATURDAY, this 15th day of June, back in London, we 
 employ the day most pleasantly in visiting the London 
 Docks, Hyde Park, some of the public gardens, and in 
 taking general rambles about the city. One is seldom at a loss 
 in a great city like this, with thousands of facilities everywhere 
 for entertainment, how to employ time. Old but ever-new are 
 these thoroughfares, the river, museums, and galleries. 
 
 Sunday a. m. visited several of the old churches, and made it 
 a special business to take a look at as many as possible of those 
 erected by Sir Christopher Wren immediately after the great fire 
 of 1666. They are found in great number in the vicinity of 
 Bow Church and St. Paul's, and some of these interiors are very 
 elegant. St. Stephen's Walbrook is, next after the cathedral, a 
 work of much ingenuity and merit. The building is small, and 
 the exterior ordinary ; but the splendid interior is a marvel of 
 beauty and elegance, though more than 200 years old. 
 
 Arriving at Westminster Abbey, we found the great church 
 filled to repletion, and hardly standing-room inside the door ; 
 but with the push peculiar to Americans we got in, and saw, but 
 could scarcely hear, the distinguished Dean Stanley. Although we 
 could not hear, yet we had unbounded satisfaction in the thought 
 that even in the land of cathedrals, and where a deal of dull and 
 prosy preaching is done, the Dean with his broad views, was 
 here preaching Sunday after Sunday, and being listened to by 
 so vast an assembly. Next we took a walk over Westminster 
 Bridge to Southvvark, and into a church there, and listened to a 
 twenty-minute sermon from a young man of good talent and 
 preaching abilities. The discourse took the negative form, the 
 subject being, What we have not done for the Lord. It was a 
 labored statement, enumerating sins of omission in great detail, 
 was very evangelical, and perhaps did a good work.
 
 ROCHESTER. 329 
 
 Dined at a restaurant in Southwark, and at 2 p. m. took steam- 
 cars for 
 
 HAMPTON COURT, 
 
 and our notebook says, "We were not only delighted, but 
 astonished at the place." As we have said something of the 
 place before, we now simply add that we found hundreds of 
 people in the palace, and thousands in the fine grounds. The 
 establishment is open Sundays as well as week-days, and it is a 
 great place of resort. 1,100 oil-paintings are in the picture-gal- 
 leries ; and they are of all subjects, and most of them from the 
 Masters. Another part of the palace of note and interest is the 
 grand Hall of Henry VIII. The ceiling is of oak, very rich and 
 heavy in design and ornamentation. 
 
 Tradition has it that Shakespeare's plays were first acted in 
 this old hall. Portraits of Cardinal YVolsey, and of Henry VIII. 
 and each of his six wives are on the walls. It is said, and is 
 probably a fact, that in this room James I. held that memorable 
 conference with the disputants of the Established Church and the 
 Puritans, when he made the celebrated remark, " No bishop, no 
 king." History has it that he afterwards wrote to a friend : — 
 
 I kept up such a revel with the Puritans these two days as was 
 never heard the like ; where I have peppered them as roundly as 
 ye have done the Papists. They fled me from argument to argu- 
 ment, without ever answering me directly, as I was forced to say to 
 them. 
 
 Remained here in this Eden till night, and back to London. 
 Monday a. m. began our last day of tramping over this old 
 metropolis, here and there attending to little matters till now 
 neglected, now and then happening in, just for a few moments, to 
 look at some grand old church, — as St. Bride's, and that marvel 
 of good taste and construction, St. Martin-in-the-Fields, London ; 
 and so with visits and letter-writing the day was filled up, and all 
 preparations made to leave London for France, but to stop by 
 the way at Rochester, Canterbury, and finally at that "jumping- 
 off place," Dover. 
 
 Tuesday, at 9 a. m , we took train for good old 
 
 ROC II ESTE K, 
 
 where we arrived it ■ i o\ 1<>< k, after a fine journey of two hours 
 
 in tlii-. extreme southern part of England. This is a cathedral 
 
 and quite old in look, but clean to a fault and very inter-
 
 330 ENGLAND. 
 
 esting. It has a population of 18,352, and is situated on the 
 River Medway, crossed by a long, ancient, stone bridge of 1 1 
 arches, erected in the reign of King John, who died 1216. On 
 an abrupt eminence near the river, and on the edge of the place, 
 are the remains of old fortifications, and at a short distance from 
 these is the grand old castle with its monstrous square tower, 
 and a beautiful mantling of ivy. The castle was quite large, and 
 is a most pleasing structure. These grounds are some acres in 
 extent. They are laid out in grand taste as pleasure-grounds 
 or parks, with avenues, lawns, fine trees, retreats, flower-beds; 
 and every element required for the pleasure-seeker is here. The 
 high ground gave elegant views of the surrounding country, and 
 the pure, free, and invigorating air was most charming. The 
 place has no manufactures of importance, but considerable trade, 
 for it supports a large number of shops and small stores ; one of 
 the very best specimens of an old English market-town is Roches- 
 ter. There is some commerce, as it is a port of entry, and con- 
 siderable shipbuilding is carried on. On the other side of the 
 river, and connected by the bridge, is Chatham, concerning which 
 we will give a few facts later. The long, narrow, winding main 
 street of Rochester contains many antique buildings, which well 
 remind one of old Shrewsbury. For a visit of a few hours, this 
 one to Rochester amply repays. 
 
 What is of most interest here is the cathedral. It has no close, 
 or grounds, but is strangely jammed in among buildings, in 
 behind those on the main street, and fronts on a street which is 
 hardly better than a lane ; and many of the buildings on this lane, 
 and in fact up against as it were the cathedral itself, are houses 
 of great antiquity. Everything here is England as it was, but is 
 very clean and tidy. Nowhere on an equal territory have we 
 seen more antique charms than in the door-neighborhood of this 
 cathedral. The edifice was originally a priory, founded in 604, 
 and rebuilt about 1076. It has recently been restored, and is 
 in good condition. It is in two very distinct parts ; one is Nor- 
 man, and is a fine example, and the remainder is Early English. 
 It was originally built by Gundulph, its first bishop, soon after 
 the Norman Conquest. Its length is 383 feet and it has a low 
 tower but no spire. 
 
 There are many old and antique monuments, and but for an 
 act of Dean Stanley of Westminster Abbey, and a few others, it 
 would have been the last resting-place of the remains of Charles 
 Dickens. In speaking of the monuments, the verger pointed to 
 a stone in the pavement, — about three feet wide and five feet or
 
 CHATHAM. 331 
 
 so long, as now remembered, — which was up some few inches 
 from its resting-place, and so left. "There," said he, "is the 
 spot in which Dickens would have been buried. The stone was 
 pried up and an excavation being made for building the brick 
 grave, when information came that personal friends of Mr. 
 Dickens had received notice of the desire of Dean Stanley, and 
 other eminent men, that he should be buried in Westminster 
 Abbey." The work of tomb-making ceased, and so Rochester 
 was deprived of the honor of being custodian of his remains. 
 Mr. Dickens's place of residence was at Gad's Hill, about three 
 miles from Rochester, and he attended worship in this cathedral. 
 His death occurred at that place, June 9, 1870. The cathe- 
 dral is small compared to others, but it is very interesting and 
 has an antiquity of look not found in any other cathedral. 
 
 The bishopric here is, next after Canterbury, which is not far 
 away, the most ancient in England. There is connected with 
 the institution a cathedral grammar school, founded by Henry 
 VIII. in 1542 ; also what is called the Poor Traveller's House, 
 founded by Richard Watts, in the reign of Queen Elizabeth, 
 "for the nightly entertainment of six poor travellers." The old 
 church of St. Nicholas is a grand old structure, built in 1420, 
 and put in good repair and restoration in 1624. There are 
 also several ancient walls, gateways, and ruins of monastic 
 institutions. 
 
 CHATHAM, 
 
 as before spoken of, is on the east bank of the River Medway, at 
 its confluence with the Thames, and is a large place, having a pop- 
 ulation of 44,135, including 8,000 dockyard men and soldiers. 
 It includes the village of Brompton, just below it. It is a rather 
 dirty and poorly built town, and, for a thing unusual, it has many 
 old wooden buildings. On one side all the works are shut in by 
 strong fortifications. Forts Pitt and Clarence are on the Bromp- 
 ton side, and on the Rochester side are Fort Gillingham and 
 Upnor Castle, which is now used as a menagerie. The walk on 
 the Rochester side and along the river, and used as an approach 
 to the park at the base of the rock, is a very fine one, and has 
 on it an ancient stone balustrade, perhaps once used as a parapet 
 tor the bridge. At 1.40 p.m. took train for 
 
 CANTERBURY. 
 
 We have remarked one thing especially in relation to the cul 
 tivation of land, and the agricultural habits of the people ; and it
 
 332 ENGLAND. 
 
 is that as we approach the seabord from any part of England, 
 and now particularly in the southern part, more attention is 
 paid to the cultivation of garden vegetables and fruit, than is the 
 case in the interior. Soon after leaving London and going 
 southerly, as we did towards Rochester, we began to meet with 
 fine gardens and fruit-raising, strongly reminding us of the 
 eastern shore of Massachusetts. Cherries are raised in great 
 quantities for London market, and now, June 18, while they 
 are not ripe, are at that state of maturity at which they are in 
 Boston forced upon the market. Black Tartarian and the com- 
 mon Ox Heart, and perhaps the Eltons, seem to prevail. We 
 have seen some strawberries in the London markets, but none 
 that were ripe, or, at all events, high-colored. They had a whitish 
 look ; and at the time of writing, after the experience in other 
 countries, occupying the entire fruit season, we are sure that in 
 fruit- raising of all kinds, New England is never excelled, unless 
 we possibly except some portions of the Rhine Valley, where 
 plums abound ; but even there, no advantage is had over many 
 places in New York State, as for instance on Seneca Lake. 
 Roses are just now at their best. So far as date or time in the 
 season is concerned, they have no advantage over the neighbor- 
 hood of Boston, or any part of southern New England. Some 
 green peas are in the market, but are really now only just at 
 their best time of blossom. At times, as we pass on the railroad, 
 we see acres of them ; also other vegetables for the supply of 
 markets. It has quite an Arlington or North Cambridge look, 
 and we are much at home in the neighborhood of this fine agri- 
 cultural district ; and we cannot but be delighted with the indus- 
 try of the people here, and the manner in which they manage 
 their farms. We are at a loss to know why the idea is not more 
 contagious than it appears to be. "Alas for poor Ireland," we 
 feel and say, — that garden of the kingdom, as it might and 
 should be. New-Englandize it, and the Irish millennium would 
 come. 
 
 After our pleasant ride of about two hours, at 3.30 p. m. we 
 arrive at the famed seat of all the Church of England, the great 
 See of the Archbishop of Canterbury, and our first impression is 
 a delight on landing in this quiet, ancient, neat, grand- 
 paved, and in all respects well-cared-for, aristocratic town. 
 How quaint are many of these venerable houses, Chester-like, with 
 projecting stories, — all in fine repair and good preservation ! 
 
 The place is pleasantly situated on the River Stow, 56 miles 
 from London, and has a population of 16,508. It has no com-
 
 CANTERBURY. 333 
 
 mercial importance, but is one of the principal markets of a rich 
 agricultural district ; and its pretty and inviting location has 
 made it a favorite place of residence, as is evident from the many 
 fine villas and mansion-seats in the vicinity. It has an ancient 
 guildhall, a corn and hop exchange, and a Philosophical Mu- 
 seum. The town existed in the time of the Romans, and many 
 of their coins and remains have been found in and near the city. 
 It was the capital of the Saxon Kingdom of Kent ; and it was 
 here that Augustine baptized Ethelbert and 10,000 Saxons 
 in 597, or nearly 1,300 years ago. Augustine was the first 
 Archbishop of England, and died here sometime between 604 
 and 614. 
 
 Aside from the cathedral there are several grand old churches 
 in the city. One of the most interesting is St. Martin's, very old 
 and antique, and full of interest. In St. Dunstan's the head of 
 Sir Thomas More — who was executed July 6, 1535, and buried 
 here by his daughter — was found in 1835, or just 300 years after. 
 He was disloyal to the throne and refused to acknowledge the 
 royal supremacy. On the 1st of July he was brought to the bar 
 of the Court of High Commission, charged with traitorously 
 attempting to deprive the king of his title as Supreme Head of 
 the Church. He was condemned and returned to the Tower. 
 On the morning of his execution he was dressed in his most 
 elaborate costume, preserved his composure to the last, and, as 
 the fatal stroke was about to fall, signed for a moment's delay 
 while he moved aside his beard, murmuring : " Pity that should 
 be cut ; that has not committed treason." 
 
 There are in Canterbury various relics of past ages. One of 
 the most interesting of these is the great St. Augustine Monas- 
 tery, once long used as a brewery, but which was at length 
 redeemed from its ignominious use by the munificence of Mr. 
 Beresford Hope, who purchased it, and presented it to the 
 Church as a missionary college, himself also defraying all expen- 
 ses of the restorations and enlargements. 
 
 By the liberality of Alderman Simonds a field called Dane 
 John, containing a high conical mound, was laid out as a public 
 park, and pleasant promenades have been built for the public. 
 On the top of this fine hill has been built a rural structure, of an 
 observatory nature, and from it most commanding and splendid 
 views are had of the- surrounding country. 
 
 What of course attracts the attention of visitors most, and 
 holds it, is the famed < athedral, — at once the most interesting, all 
 things considered, of any like structure in the kingdom ; for it
 
 334 ENGLAND. 
 
 boasts of not only a vast antiquity, but of having been at an 
 early day a church of so much wealth and importance, as to 
 make it the seat of the Church, and of her Archbishop, " the 
 primate of all England." The chapter consists of the arch- 
 bishop, a dean, six canons, two archdeacons, six preachers, and 
 five minor canons, besides the twelve choristers. The annual 
 income of the archbishop is $75,000. 
 
 The foundation of the institution goes back far into antiquity ; 
 and we leave the minor items relating to its early history, and 
 simply say that the cathedral had so far advanced, as to be 
 ready for consecration in 1130. It, as all other cathedrals did, 
 met with reverses and ill-conditions innumerable. Indeed, so 
 varied is its history, and so full of great events, that we are dis- 
 couraged at the thought of attempting the task of making a 
 selection. It has been wonderful in its power and influence, and 
 has in turn had in its embrace men of master minds, whose 
 power has been of most decided character for good or ill ; and 
 we are sorry to have to say, that often the latter has transcended 
 the former. A bishop of especial ability and power, if but loyal 
 to the Church and its doctrines, as for the time understood and 
 interpreted, was sure to be sooner or later installed here. 
 " Translated to the See of Canterbury " is a familiar expression, 
 and has been for centuries. How have the fortunes and con- 
 dition of the entire kingdom, and the whole English-speaking 
 world, been influenced by things said and done here ! No spot 
 beneath the broad canopy of the sky is so marked as this. 
 Here Puritanism found its great foes and untiring enemies ; and 
 when we speak of this fact, or name the word Puritan, how 
 much is involved ! Non-conformist, Pilgrim New England, 
 what she at first was and now is, — all that is involved and 
 comprehended ! Archbishop of Canterbury ! Name but the 
 three words, and what echoes are awakened, and wander through 
 the corridors of time ! 
 
 No place is really more intimately connected with Plymouth 
 and Massachusetts Bay than is this. The invisible telegraph of 
 momentous events — a continuous unbroken line — exists, and is 
 as real as the material cable that reposes on the floor of the sea ; 
 and when all of them shall have become extinct, this, forever 
 revivified and renewed, will increase in power and be an instru- 
 ment for good, " till the angel, standing with one foot on the 
 land and the other on the sea, shall declare that time shall 
 be no more." 
 
 Not long before the accession of Queen Victoria to the throne
 
 CANTERBURY. 335 
 
 in 1838, a most thorough repair of the cathedral was made, and 
 it is now one of the most perfect in England. 
 
 In our examinations of these great structures, admiring each 
 of them, we have at times tried to decide which one of all we 
 would, if the thing were possible, transport to America. At 
 times the elegant interior of Winchester, with its fine long 
 nave, is in the front rank. Then appears the great Lincoln, 
 splendid within and without. Next, these are crowded aside by 
 imperial York Minster. Then comes antique but sublime old 
 Durham; how can we part companionship with that? or Salis- 
 bury, with its commanding spire, 404 feet high, and its rich 
 transept end ? Next, rich gem-bedecked Ely comes well up in 
 front. Finally we make one herculean move, and, as the waking 
 giant shakes his locks and spreads his arms, we make an effort 
 to be unsympathetic ; and ignoring these grand old friends, all of 
 whom with charms peculiar to themselves have wooed and capti- 
 vated us, — leaving them, a noble army of martyrs, — we say 
 Canterbury. The effort has cost us much sacrifice. " Not that 
 we love Caesar less, but that we love Rome more." The grounds 
 about the structure are very fine and inviting, though they do 
 not possess those charms that exist at Salisbury and Peterboro. 
 
 The cathedral was founded by Archbishop Lanfranc, and 
 enlarged and consecrated by Archbishop Corbel in 1 1 30, in 
 presence of Henry I. of England, David, king of Scotland, and all 
 the bishops of England. The roof, or exterior covering, of the 
 stone vaulting is of wood, and was seriously troubled by fire in 
 1 1 74, when the choir and other portions of the interior were 
 greatly damaged ; and as late as Sept. 3, 1872, a portion of the 
 roof, 150 feet in length, was badly damaged by fire and water, 
 but all is now in perfect condition of repair. The cathedral is 
 in extreme length 514 feet, and is 159 feet wide at the transepts. 
 It has a magnificent central tower, of elaborate decorations, 
 which is 285 feet high ; also two very beautiful western towers 
 terminating in embattlements and lofty turrets. The stone is of 
 a dark-gray tint, and the structure has a sublime and imposing 
 appearance. The interior is indescribably grand, and has one 
 ial peculiarity, which is that the choir, or head of the cross, — 
 which is the plan of the cathedral, — is elevated some seven feet 
 or so above the floor of the nave, and is reached by a flight 
 of marble steps. The arrangement, if anything, adds to the 
 grand e(&< t. 
 
 Beneath is the crypt, or basement, which is common to but 
 few cathedrals. Here are very ancient columns, and a solid
 
 336 ENGLAND. 
 
 stone, groined ceiling ; all is but dimly lighted, and was once a 
 chapel in which monks worshipped. A painful silence now 
 reigns throughout ; and all is still and solemn, save as the foot- 
 falls on its pavements, or our voice, — or it may be sounds from 
 the great cathedral lloor coming down through the stone vault- 
 ing, subdued and subduing, — break the spell. Except for these, 
 a silence of the tomb prevails. More than half a thousand years 
 are gone since here the fumes 6f incense and the sound 
 of papal prayers and the repetition of the Mass were begun. 
 Centuries now are passed since all ceased. Dust of many pious 
 ones has been here laid in its last resting-place, and " after 
 life's fitful fever they sleep well." Nations have risen since then, 
 and kingdoms have been transformed. The great realm of 
 thought has been enlarged and extended, and humanity has 
 become enlightened and advanced. Then, monk and nun were 
 the rule, but they are not now even the exception. All are forever 
 gone, and a hard theology, one anticipating an everlasting triumph 
 of evil over good ; penance, tormenting the body for the good 
 of the soul, — or, later advanced tenet, that of tormenting the 
 mind for the soul's good, — are discounted. Personal account- 
 ability, divine sovereignty, the Golden Rule, progress never 
 ending for the individual and the race, are in the ascendant ; 
 and so crypt and dark room are deserted, and only tell of 
 human life and endeavor as they were. 
 
 This cathedral has many monuments, and well it may have. 
 How long is her line of bishops and illustrious men ! A his- 
 tory of 700 and more years of active work, must have made 
 conditions of note and renown ; but we leave these monuments 
 as we must, and say a few things of two or three of the noted 
 ones who here kept holy time. Every reader of history has 
 anticipated the name we speak of first, Thomas a Becket. 
 At the north cross-aisle, or transept, is a small alcove, or chapel, 
 on the right side of which is a table-altar. On the 29th of 
 December, 1 1 70, but forty years after the cathedral's consecra- 
 tion, and more than 700 years ago, as he was kneeling at this 
 altar, he was assassinated, killed on the spot ; and now a small 
 place, six inches square, is shown in the floor, where some of 
 his blood fell. The stone was long ago cut out and sent to 
 Rome. 
 
 Eew mortals have had a history as eventful as his. Born in 
 London, in the olden time of 1 1 17, he was educated, and finally 
 appointed Archdeacon of Canterbury ; and, in turn, prebend of 
 Lincoln, and of St. Paul's at London. Nothing short of distin-
 
 CANTERBURY. 337 
 
 guished abilities and intellect could have brought such honored 
 conditions as these. 
 
 When at the age of forty-one, in 1158, Henry II. made him 
 Chancellor of England. So powerful was he in influence over 
 the King, that in 1162, on the death of Theobold the Bishop of 
 Canterbury, the King pressed his election to this See. He was 
 appointed, and so was the first native Englishman who held the 
 archbishopric of Canterbury. He was first ordained a priest, 
 and then made Primate of all England. He resigned his office 
 of Chancellor against the desires of the king, and in retaliation 
 was deprived of his archdeaconship which he wished to retain 
 along with his archbishopric. He at once began to exercise 
 great authority. He became reserved and austere, and soon 
 acquired great renown for his sturdy defence of the prerogatives 
 of the Church against the threatened encroachments of the 
 crown and the nobility. 
 
 In 1 164 he strongly opposed the famous constitutions pre- 
 sented by Clarendon, and bitter feuds arose between him and 
 the King. The hostility of the King to him was great, and his 
 persecutions increased. He became exceedingly unpopular 
 with the nobility, and at length fled from England. He spent 
 nearly two years in an abbey in Burgundy, and was encouraged 
 by the Pope, who, refusing to accept his resignation of the See 
 of Canterbury, reconfirmed him as Primate of all England, ex- 
 cept the See of York. 
 
 The strife between King Henry and Becket increased, but 
 after a long continuance of the quarrel, in 1170a reconciliation 
 took place, and on his return to England the people gave him 
 an enthusiastic reception ; but he soon revived his old troubles 
 by publishing the suspension of the Archbishop of York, and the 
 King taunted his attendants for remissness in revenging the 
 overbearing prelate. This excited four barons of the court, 
 Reginald Eitzurse, William de Tracy, Hugh de Moreville and 
 Richard Brito, who undertook the work of his assassination. 
 Dec. 28, 1 1 70, they met at the castle of Ranulth de Broc, near 
 Canterbury, accompanied by a body of armed men. The next 
 day they went to the Archbishop's palace and there had a 
 stormy interview, and on the same evening invaded the cathe- 
 dra] at vesper service. Becket prevented all opposition to their 
 ingress by declining, as he said, "to convert a church into a 
 castle," and implored the assailants to spare everybody but him- 
 self. They attempted to <lra^ r him from tin- < hun h, so as not 
 to desecrate it by bloodshed ; but while manfully wrestling with
 
 338 ENGLAND. 
 
 De Tracy, Becket received a blow, inflicting a slight wound, 
 which, falling obliquely, broke the arm of his cross-bearer, 
 Edward Grimes. The Archbishop then kneeled at the altar, 
 when the three other barons gave him the death blow, and his 
 brains were scattered on the floor. The cathedral was then 
 ordered by the Pope to be closed for one year. 
 
 In 1 172 Alexander III. canonized Becket as St. Thomas of 
 Canterbury. In 1221 his remains were deposited by Henry 
 III. in a rich shrine, which became a great resort for pilgrims. 
 
 After the Reformation, Henry VIII. despoiled the shrine of its 
 treasures of silver and gold, which were of incredible value ; and 
 he had the saint's name stricken from the calendar, and his 
 bones burnt to ashes and scattered. The shrine was in the 
 cathedral, back of the high altar, and now its only traces are in 
 the marble floor where it rested, and in the worn and sunken 
 line encircling it, made by the feet and knees of pilgrims who 
 for three centuries had there paid tribute. 
 
 As we stood there we could in imagination see the incessant train 
 coming in with demure look, and with a pious reverence kneel 
 and offer their humble petition for the repose of his soul and for 
 the prosperity of the religion he defended. Fearfully in earnest 
 were these honest but superstitious ones, and so was Henry VIII. 
 when he said to the enslaving service, " Thus far shalt thou go 
 and no farther, and here shall thy proud waves be stayed." 
 What determination, what intrepidity, were requisite for the in- 
 auguration of reform like this ! What master-work to do ! 
 Becket and his adherents meant well, but they were superstitious 
 and blind to truth and fact. Henry VIII. did a great work, 
 but when he did it he also did unchristian things. So of Queen 
 Mary, when to the stake must go Rogers and Hooper, Cran- 
 mer, Latimer, and Ridley. We cannot well stop there. Puri- 
 tanism established, somebody was responsible for the per- 
 secutions of Roger Williams, of Marmaduke Stevenson, and 
 others. Persecution for opinion's sake is not yet done, but 
 " out of the bitter comes forth the sweet." Becket and his 
 coadjutors, the kings and queens of England, Boston ministers 
 and judges of old, form one long connected chain of defenders 
 of the faith, — not always of clear vision, but outside of them- 
 selves governed and overruled ; and so, by the work done, hu- 
 manity steps up higher, and walks on towards the perfection 
 attainable, and in the end sure to be attained. 
 
 That work, done in the time of Becket, was the transition 
 period from the Papal Church to the Protestant. Our next
 
 CANTERBURY. 339 
 
 man of renown was the noted Archbishop Laud ; and his admin- 
 istration was the transition period, from intense formality and 
 ritualism, into a somewhat similar form of Christian worship and 
 work, out of which has come our New England's existence and 
 element and life, — and so, indirectly, our Great West, which in 
 its early days New England people and customs did so much 
 to mould and establish. 
 
 William Laud was born at Reading in England, Oct. 7, 1573, 
 but eighteen years after the death of the martyrs at Oxford. 
 He nursed from his mother's breast the spirit of the time, 
 or, like Laurence Sterne's Tristram Shandy, was able to date 
 his nature and inclinations to acting and influencing elements 
 at a day the very earliest in his history. He was educated at 
 St. John's College, Oxford ; obtained his fellowship in 1593, 
 clerical orders in 1601 ; and in 1605 became chaplain to Charles, 
 Lord Mountjoy, Earl of Devonshire ; and here, he showed plia- 
 bility of conscience which was ever a distinguishing feature of 
 his life, for he was willing to perform the marriage ceremony 
 between the Earl and Lady Rich, whose first husband was still 
 living. 
 
 In 1608 he was made bishop of Nene, being then but thirty- 
 five years of age. In 16 n he was president of the college at 
 which he was educated. In 1616 he was Dean of Gloucester; 
 was a prebendary of Westminster in 1620, and Bishop of St. 
 David's in 1621. In 1624 he was member of the Court of 
 High Commission; in 1626, Bishop of Bath and Wells, and in 
 1628 Bishop of London; and now begins his great life-work, 
 for he became confidential adviser of Charles I. in ecclesiastical 
 affairs. Succeeding Buckingham in the royal favor he began 
 to play important parts in politics, and his first object and step 
 was to force Puritans, and all Dissenters from the Established 
 Church, into conformity. Macau lay says : — 
 
 Under this direction every corner of the realm was subjected to 
 a constant minute inspection. Every little congregation of Separ- 
 atists was tracked out and broken up. Even the devotion of pri- 
 vate families could not escape the vigilance of his spies. Such 
 fear did his rigor inspire, that the deadly hatred of the Church, 
 which festered in innumerable bosoms, was generally disguised 
 under an outward show of conformity. 
 
 In 1628 Robert Leighton, a Scottish prelate, published a 
 book, " Sion's Plea against the Prelacy." At the instigation of 
 Laud he was in 1C30 brought before the Star Chamber, con-
 
 340 ENGLAND. 
 
 demned to pay a fine of ^10,000 ; and he was twice publicly 
 whipped and pilloried in Chcapside, London, had his cars cut 
 off. his nostrils split open, and his cheeks branded with S. S. 
 (Sower "i" Sedition), and he was incarcerated ten years in the 
 Fleet Prison. 
 
 Flattered with success, Laud, being present at the corona- 
 tion of Charles in Scotland, urged the forced establishment of 
 Episcopacy and uniformity in that country, which resulted in 
 revolt; and, contrary to the ambitious and narrow-minded 
 Bishop's anticipation, ended in the adoption of the National 
 Covenant, and so Presbyterianism triumphed. On his return 
 from the ceremonies of coronation, and doubtless in aid of their 
 enterprise to " kill out Puritanism" and to " harry the Puritans 
 out of the land," he was appointed to the See of Canterbury. 
 He became a politician in the more odious sense of that word, 
 and so worked himself in as one of the committee of the king's 
 revenue, and in 1634 he became a commissioner of the treas- 
 ury ; and soon after, and finally, was made Censor of the Press 
 under decree of the Star Chamber in 1637. 
 
 He was powerful, overbearing, and injudicious, and the pub- 
 lic odium soon manifested itself largely against him. The Long 
 Parliament in 1640, impeached him for high treason, and he 
 was committed to the Tower. After an imprisonment of more 
 than three years he was tried and condemned, — and, as now 
 thought, according to the letter of the law, illegally, — and was exe- 
 cuted in the Tower, Jan. *io, 1645, at tne a S e of seventy-two. 
 
 Of the many other noted and eminent men of Canterbury's 
 almost interminable list, we take but one, and that was the 
 second Protestant bishop, Matthew Parker. He was eminent 
 as a churchman, as much so as Laud, but was a man of good 
 judgment, and more than any other person gave the character 
 of worship which the Established Church of England now has. 
 He was born at Norwich, Aug. 6, 1504, and entered Corpus 
 Christi College at Cambridge in 1520; in 1533 was licensed 
 to preach, and soon was made Chaplain to Anne Boleyn. He 
 was Dean of Clare College in 1535 ; chaplain to Henry VIII. 
 in 1537 ; Master of Corpus Christi College in 1544 : and Dean 
 of Lincoln Cathedral in 1552. Having married in 1547, on 
 the accession of Queen Mary he was deprived of his office, 
 and obliged to remain in obscurity. He then translated the 
 Psalms into English verse, and wrote a treatise entitled "A 
 Defense of Priests' Marriages." 
 
 His fortune at length turned, for on the accession of Queen
 
 CANTERBURY. 341 
 
 Elizabeth, and a reform in the religion, he was chosen Arch- 
 bishop of Canterbury, and Dec. 17, 1559, was consecrated in 
 the chapel at Lambeth. He was successful in dispelling the 
 Queen's lingering affection for images, and he filled all the 
 vacant Sees with decided Protestants, and did all in his power 
 to render the rites and ceremonies of the church uniform. He 
 founded schools, made valuable presents to the colleges at 
 Cambridge, was one of the first chosen to review the Book of 
 Common Prayer ; and was employed in the revision of the 
 Bishop's Bible, which passed under his inspection, and was pub- 
 lished at his own expense in 1568. He was the author of sev- 
 eral other standard works, and at last, after a life of remarkable 
 activity and usefulness, he died at London, May 17, 1575, at 
 the age of seventy-one, deeply lamented. 
 
 1575 ! 200 years before the declaration of our American 
 Independence, and almost half a century before the Pilgrims 
 set sail for America ! He did much towards establishing Pro- 
 testantism, and making Puritanism possible ; and so he was the 
 John the Baptist to prepare for the bad work of Laud and his 
 coadjutors, — which caused the persecution of the non-conform- 
 ists, and, indirectly, the emigration to the New World, and the 
 great good which is its outcome. Laud, thunder-storm-like, 
 induced a clearer theologic atmosphere. 
 
 There is a thing yet untouched we would speak of, but must 
 forbear a long recital. In speaking of the crypt, we strangely 
 forgot to mention that, in the time of Queen Elizabeth, there 
 were a company of French silk-weavers, who were driven from 
 their native land, and sought refuge in England. They were 
 called Walloons, and the crypt of the cathedral was granted them 
 by the Queen as a place of worship. In the time of Charles II., 
 who died in 1688, they were the most noted silk- weavers in 
 England. The blood was strong ; and, strange to tell, to this 
 day the humble remnant, after the lapse of centuries, still (hum 
 and use this room as their place of worship. There is a tinge of 
 melancholy that comes over one as he thinks of their devotion 
 and humble sanctuary, but it is Sabbath home to them, and so 
 i.-> at once cathedral and gate of heaven. 
 
 At the Altar of Martyrdom, where lie. kel died, in 1170 was 
 thatappallii of riot, distress, and death. 129 years 
 
 and how changed I Then was gathered another crowd, and all 
 
 .and lite, lor Kdward 1. and Margaret were 
 
 there to be married in 1 299. 
 On the 8th of June, 1376, great commotion was in the Epis-
 
 342 ENGLAND. 
 
 copal Palace near by, for there lay in the agonies of death their 
 giv.u grandson, Edward the Black Prince, who was so called 
 from the color of his armor. Two days after he was buried in 
 the cathedra] ; and now, after 500 years, we look upon his effigy 
 in bronze, old and black, but highly wrought, and once and for 
 year- oi rich gilt. Above his tomb are suspended the helm, 
 surcoat, shield, and gauntlet he wore on the held of Cressy. In 
 this cathedral is the ancient chair in which all the old kings of 
 Kent were crowned. 
 
 And so we might go on; and when many pages had been 
 written, the door would but be opened, and an inexhaustible 
 store of things of inexpressible interest present themselves, and 
 be in waiting for consideration. 
 
 We must now begin to think of parting companionship with 
 these cathedral towns, for we are to move on yet more southerly 
 till Dover is reached ; and so for a time is to end our good stay 
 in historic Old England, the mother country of us all. We con- 
 fess to a feeling of dislike, and at the same time to a conscious- 
 ness of grand satisfaction of what we have enjoyed, and so that 
 feeling, if permitted to prevail, would neutralize the anticipation 
 of good to come. 
 
 We now, at 6 p. M., take cars for Dover. The ride is like that 
 before it, very much like one over lands in New England, on 
 the South Shore Road, towards Hingham and Cohasset. There 
 are rocks, and even ledges, increasing as we advance. There are 
 grand fields of hops, an incredible number of them, and gardens 
 with the new vegetables of all kinds, as in our Old Colony at 
 that time of the year. 
 
 Now at 7.30, after a ride of an hour and a half, we come in 
 sight of the bluffs and chalk-cliffs and abrupt hills — a wonder 
 to us indeed. " How extensive, how white ! " we say. 
 
 And now comes the well-known odor of the heavily charged 
 salt air of the sea. Cohasset, Nantasket, or Nahant, even at 
 their best, could do no better. We are as it were in a new world 
 of observation, feeling, and thought ; and on landing there is 
 opened to us a vast panorama of sea view, of high life and ani- 
 mation, a new paradise, — not an old one regained, for we never 
 at home nor abroad had one like this to lose.
 
 DOVER. 343 
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 DOVER BRIGHTON — CALAIS. 
 
 ARRIVED at 7.30 p. m. and took room at Hotel de Paris 
 — a high-sounding name ; but not very Parisian was 
 the institution ; however, it was neat and every way good 
 and worthy. Took tea, and then a walk out. As before inti- 
 mated, we are now in a southern border-town, and the waters of 
 the Channel wash its shore. 
 
 Dover is 62 miles southeast of London, and 21 miles north- 
 west from the coast of France, being England's nearest seaport. 
 The population is 28,270 of permanent residents, but it varies 
 by reason of its large number of hotel boarders. It is situated 
 on a small but beautiful bay, and is of an amphitheatre form, 
 between lofty cliffs, and alongshore by the valley of a small 
 river called the Dour. The older portion is rather poorly and 
 irregularly built, and is principally on one street that runs par- 
 allel to the river, or valley, and having hills as a background. 
 The newer part is along the shore of the bay, and consists 
 of watering-place hotels, boarding-houses, and aristocratic pri- 
 vate residences, many of which have fine grounds about them. 
 These continue for a mile or more, and at the lower end termi- 
 nate at lofty chalk-cliffs of a stupendous height, — producing a 
 grand and unusual appearance, being very precipitous and of a 
 chalky whiteness. In front of the buildings named is a grand 
 watering-place promenade-avenue, in front of which, the entire 
 length, is a pebbly beach, and this is washed by the waters of the 
 bay. Thousands of people, old and young, were here, and much 
 of gay life and fashion displayed. Never will be lost sight of 
 md entertainment we thus had, and which was SO unex- 
 is. The harbor consists of three basins, though in 
 
 I appearani e but one ; and the ci it 1 .1 m< e <>l the harbor is 
 
 sheltered by a pier or breakwater of stone, 1,700 feel long. 
 
 The castle of Dover is one of the interesting edifices in Eng- 
 land. It stands on one of the great hills, a short distance from
 
 344 ENGLAND. 
 
 the town, and its walls inclose thirty-five acres. It is supposed 
 to have been founded by the Romans ; but some portions of it 
 are Saxon, some Norman, and some belong to a later period. 
 It contains a separate keep, as it is called, now used as a maga- 
 zine, and other parts are barracks for 2,000 men. Within the 
 castle precincts stands an octagonal watch-tower, interesting not 
 only as the earliest specimen of Roman architecture in England, 
 but also as one of the most ancient examples of mason-work in 
 Great Britain. 
 
 This town is one of very great antiquity. In the neighborhood 
 of Dover, Julius Cassar made his first attempt to land on the 
 British coast. The antiquity of this event is made more appar- 
 ent by a remembrance of the fact that he died 44 years before 
 Christ. We are informed by history that " he was induced to 
 change his point of debarkation, owing to the abruptness of the 
 shore and other difficulties." Under the Saxon kings it became 
 a position of great importance in the defence of Kent, which 
 was then all of the southern part of England. 
 
 In the reign of Edward the Confessor, who died in 1066, this 
 was one of what were called the Five, or Cinque Ports ; the others 
 were Hastings, Romney, Hythe, and Sandwich. As these ports 
 were opposite to France, they received peculiar advantages in 
 the early days of English history, on condition of providing in 
 times of war a certain number of ships at their own expense. 
 They were governed by an officer called the Lord- warden of the 
 Cinque Ports. The Uuke of Wellington was lord-warden of 
 them at the time of his death, which was at the official resi- 
 dence, Walmer Castle, near Deal, Sept. 14, 1852. 
 
 According to Camden, the first warden was appointed by 
 William the Conqueror, who died in 1087, but their charter has 
 been traced directly to the times of Edward the Saxon king, as 
 before named. This port was considered as the key of the 
 kingdom. After the establishment of Norman rule, it suffered 
 the vengeance of William the Conqueror, to whom it made 
 strong opposition. In 1213 King John performed at Dover 
 the ceremony of submission to the Pope, giving up his authority 
 to the papal nuncio. 
 
 In 1295 the French made a descent upon the place and 
 committed great depredations ; and so for centuries it was the 
 theatre of attacks and defences, but we pass all, intimating, how- 
 ever, that no more interesting history exists than that relating to 
 these invasions of the territory of England by the various people 
 who had an eye to the possession of new territory, — for which
 
 BRIGHTON. 345 
 
 practice England herself has for centuries been celebrated, and 
 which found its last expression in obtaining possession of Cyprus. 
 
 In 1847 a mass from one of the chalk-cliffs scaled off and fell 
 to the base. It was 254 feet in height, 15 feet thick, and was 
 calculated to weigh 48,000 tons. Shortly after, another fell, of 
 10,000 cubic yards. The principal cliff is 350 feet high above 
 the water, which is more than half as high again as our Bunker 
 Hill Monument. Another, called Shakespeare's Cliff, is located 
 just in the rear of, and is a background of, the town, and is per- 
 forated by the tunnel of the Southeastern Railway. 
 
 Nothing is or can be more picturesque and grand than these 
 chalk-white, clean-faced, and very perpendicular walls, covered 
 as they are on their top and rear slopes with a splendid grass 
 verdure. The blue water of the bay ; the old weather-beaten 
 part of the city, — quite European, though not all antique; and 
 the long line of fine beach ; the grand avenue above it, so alive 
 with gay teams and pleasure-seekers ; the mile-range of hotels 
 and mansions ; and to the left, the lofty promontory land, with 
 the castle on its top and the high lands extending well out into 
 the sea, its waves beating at times grandly against these milk- 
 white ramparts, — this group of things forms a scene of remark- 
 able splendor and interest. Our stay here was exceedingly 
 pleasant and was exhilarating in the extreme. We, the next 
 a. m. at 9.30, took our steamer for Calais, which is the nearest 
 port of France, 2 1 miles over the channel. 
 
 Before, however, closing our work, we will speak of one more 
 place in England, — in a sense a counterpart of Dover. It is the 
 famed watering-place, Brighton. Though we did not visit it for 
 some months after this, — till on the 10th of August, — yet as it 
 is the only place of England we visited not yet described, we 
 take occasion to speak of it now, and so complete our record. 
 
 BRIGHTON. 
 
 We took cars at London for Brighton one Saturday night, and 
 after a two hours' ride arrived at the famed watering-place. The 
 fir^t impression was that we were in a large and old place, and 
 in anything but one to which people would resorl for pleasure; 
 for the place in the vicinity of the station, and especially for the 
 entire length of a long streel leading down from ii, had a very 
 commercial and business-like appearance; and, as we passed 
 down its entire length and looked to the right and left, corn- 
 Unit streets, houses, and shops, and even line stores and
 
 346 ENGLAND. 
 
 warehouses, seemed to extend as far as the eye could reach ; 
 no tree nor garden, nor even front-yard anywhere, but one mass 
 of solid buildings, and surely a great population. 
 
 Our only hope and tangible evidence that we had not mis- 
 taken this for the watering-place Brighton — as we had mistaken 
 the little fishing-place Wells, for the cathedral town — was a very 
 large lot of well-to-do, stylishly dressed people, all passing down 
 this great main street. We of course followed, for just then we 
 considered ourselves watering-place visitors, and so in a sense 
 aristocratic. At length the end of the street gained, all fears 
 -were dispelled, for there in front lay the grand harbor, and for 
 aught we could see to the contrary, thousands of miles of good 
 ocean were stretching out from it. 
 
 Here, as at Dover, was a grand avenue, along for some two or 
 three miles, with a most remarkable shore, and its fine beach 
 extending for miles. A very good cut-stone wall is built the 
 entire length of the city, dividing the beach from the grand 
 avenue, and along these thousands were promenading. The 
 style of hotels is quite in advance of those at Dover. They 
 are many in number, and are of a quite similar appearance as 
 compared to each other, none of them, however, being striking 
 as works of art or architecture. They are of stone or brick, and 
 of a cream-color ; all are from three to five stories high, very 
 plain, without porticos or much of any decoration ; and while 
 they had a neat and inviting look, yet none of them appeared 
 to be very new or modern, but substantial, and, perhaps of most 
 appropriate construction for their exposed situation. The land 
 rises amphitheatre-like from the water, and, as before named, 
 has a solid and very substantial look. 
 
 It has a population of 90,000, and extends for three miles 
 along the coast, from Kemptown on the east to Hove on the 
 west. It was not a place of especial resort till about a century 
 ago, when Dr. Richard Russell published a work on the use of 
 sea-water which attracted much attention ; and its celebrity as a 
 watering-place became established when George IV. — who at 
 the time, 1784, was simply the Prince of Wales — made it his 
 place of residence, and began the erection of a peculiar building, 
 called the Pavilion, which was finished in 1787. The grounds 
 were some five acres in extent, and finely laid out by the build- 
 ing of avenues, paths, lawns, flower-beds, and the setting 
 out of good shrubbery and trees. The estate is very centrally 
 located, and in the midst of a neighborhood of the best inhabi- 
 tants. The town ultimately purchased it of the crown, for the
 
 BRIGHTON. 347 
 
 sum of $265,000, and threw the premises open to the public as 
 pleasure-grounds. In all our travels we saw no finer taste 
 displayed in the arrangement of elegant colored-plant designs, 
 nor on as large a scale, as we saw here. They were indeed 
 marvels of genius and beauty. Our visit to these grounds was 
 after tea Sunday night, when hundreds of people were enjoying 
 the treat ; and among the few very choice and pleasant hours in 
 England, these are to be named. 
 
 For the pleasure of sojourners, two novel things exist. They 
 are what are called chain-piers, and extend out into the sea ; and 
 are as exposed as would be similar structures built out into 
 the ocean from our Chelsea or Nantasket Beach, for the relative 
 situation is the same. One was erected in 1822-3, at an 
 expense of $150,000. It is 1,134 feet long, and extends, of this 
 length, 1,014 ^ eet hito the sea. As 5,280 feet are a mile, it will 
 be seen that this is about one quarter of a mile in length. The 
 other, which is located about half a mile or so from that named, 
 was erected in 1867. It is 1,115 ^ eet l° n g- They are built in 
 suspension-bridge style, with good stone towers, and iron-work 
 for cords and suspension. They are frequented by thousands 
 for the fine views and sea air. 
 
 The sea-wall before alluded to is a grand structure, varying in 
 height as the rise or fall of the land requires ; and is in height, 
 above the beach, all the way from 20 feet, — which is about the 
 average height, for a mile at the central part of the town, — and 
 then rising to full 60 feet, as it extends towards the elevated land 
 at the left. The broad avenue continues to this, and well up 
 on the elevation, and from this the finest imaginable views of the 
 ocean in front and the city are at hand, and to the rear and 
 right may be had. At the base of this wall, and near the shore, 
 is an aquarium, the buildings being low but large, tasty, and 
 admirably adapted for their purpose. It was opened to the 
 public in 1872. In the western quarter is a battery of six 
 42-pounders, erected in 1793. On the eastern side is Queen's 
 Park, and on the western is a chalybeate spring. 
 
 There are twenty-five chapels and churches belonging to the 
 established church, and thirty of other denominations. Of them 
 all, none had so much charm to us as Trinity ( lhapel, where once 
 the thoughtful and good Frederick W. Robertson preached, and 
 sacrificed himself for humanity. We, as it were instinctively, on 
 Sunday wended our way there, for although long sini 
 Cotton Mather would have said, he had "passed on to the 
 celestials," yet it was our highest thought to see the place. We
 
 348 ENGLAND. 
 
 found it a very ordinary building, in a fair neighborhood. The 
 edifice was of no especial pretension, outside or inside. It had 
 a frontage of perhaps 45 feet, was of a debased Grecian archi- 
 tecture, with no look of chapel, save what was given to it by a 
 very unpretending cupola, or bell-tower, resting on the roof. 
 Inside it was quite as simple and in the same style ; common 
 galleries were on the two sides and the door end ; and while all 
 was neat, yet there was no display nor churchly look. Here 
 the scholarly man thought and labored, and, as it were, died. 
 Robertson was born at London, Feb. 3, 18 16 ; graduated at 
 Brazenose College, Oxford, 1840 ; and, after being curate at Win- 
 chester, Cheltenham, and Oxford, in 1847 he became minister 
 here ; and after a most laborious experience in his parish, and 
 outside of it, and remarkably so for the working-men and the 
 poor, he fell a victim of overwork and left the scenes of his 
 earthly labors, Aug. 15, 1853, at the age of but 37. His broad 
 views of the divine government and human destiny cost him 
 the loss of sympathy he otherwise would have had. Conscien- 
 tious to a remarkable degree, intellectual and finished beyond 
 most others, and withal sensitive, he inwardly deplored his con- 
 ditions and surroundings ; but never yielded, and at last passed 
 on, to be fully appreciated only when the spirit and body had 
 parted companionship. Hardly had his sermons been issued from 
 the press before their depth of thought, their comprehensive 
 reach, their elegant diction, and sweet temper were appreciated ; 
 and now, no denomination, evangelical or unevangelical, is there 
 whose clergyman will not speak in their praise. Wherever the 
 English language is spoken, the fine productions of Frederick 
 William Robertson will be spoken of as a choice thing, and an 
 honor to the English tongue. 
 
 There are five banks and six newspapers in the town ; and 
 one hundred fishing-boats are owned and used, manned by 500 
 men. The principal fish taken, and in abundance, are mackerel, 
 herrings, soles, brill, and turbot ; and mullet and whiting are 
 often caught. The place is very old, for in the old Doomsday 
 Book it is spoken of, and there called by the name of Bright- 
 helmstone. 
 
 Having before spoken of Doomsday Book, we will take time 
 enough here to say that it is an old register of lands in England, 
 framed by order of William the Conqueror, and was begun 
 somewhere from 1080 to 1085, and was finished sure in 1086. 
 The book is yet preserved in the chapter-house of Westminster. 
 A facsimile was published by the government in 1 783, having
 
 BRIGHTON 349 
 
 been ten years in passing through the press. It is a valuable 
 and interesting work, and is in itself a sort of complete registry 
 of English possessions. 
 
 Brighton under the longer name is there referred to. It, like 
 Dover, and in fact all border towns, suffered often from invasions, 
 and the French plundered and burnt it in 15 13. During the 
 reigns of Henry VIII. and Queen Elizabeth, fortifications were 
 erected for its protection. Two hundred years ago it was a 
 fishing-town, and had 600 families. Now, the fishing still con- 
 tinues, but its many hotels, its grand summer boarding-houses, 
 and its population furnish a ready market at home. 
 
 On one portion of the Sunday we attended worship in the 
 Quaker meeting-house. The word church cannot be used with 
 propriety here, for the place was anything but that. We chanced 
 in our walks to fall in with it, — and need we have asked who 
 worshipped there? — a good stone building, unpretending but 
 very neat, end to the road, and back full 100 feet from the street, 
 with a beautiful park-like garden enclosed in front. We went in, 
 and the same nicety was everywhere. Plain, but of a rather 
 higher grade than we were used to seeing in places of worship of 
 this sect. The house was quite large, and was nearly filled. 
 Some four or five of the more elect ones were at their usual 
 place on the high-seats, and facing the audience. All of them 
 were moved by the spirit to speak, and to our pleasure did so. 
 The tone of remark was to speak ill of themselves, and suggest 
 the deplorable conditions incident to an earthly life ; but the 
 advice they gave was salutary, the opinion honest and sincere, 
 and good was done. This was the extreme opposite of the 
 ornate Episcopal service, and as we had had that first on enter- 
 ing England, it was well we had this last on leaving it. It was 
 not our intention to furnish evidence against ourselves, and tell 
 that after remaining but a short time in Trinity Chapel we were 
 too uninterested to stay, and so quietly walked out, being near 
 the door, and going we knew not exactly where, came in here ; 
 but we have now told the story, and so the reader will not be 
 at a loss to know why we had nothing to say of service there. 
 
 Mm h more would we say of this Brighton, — its fine air, views, 
 fashionable life, and desirable conditions, but we rest the case 
 here. When we have written one of these articles, we find an 
 abundance more material left than we have used. The task 
 of omitting material is a great one. What >u>t to say is what 
 troubles 1 
 
 Although an account of the passage to Calais, and a descrip-
 
 350 ENGLAND. 
 
 tion of that place would not ordinarily be in order in a work 
 pertaining to the places here described ; yet there being involved 
 certain items of historical interest to Americans we venture to 
 say a few words pertaining to things across the channel, and 
 with that end our work. 
 
 Having digressed this much, we now go back to old Dover, 
 where the last accounts left us, and at 9.30 a. m. of Wednesday, 
 June 19, are on board the steamer for a few hours' sail, across the 
 channel to Calais. 
 
 Our voyage was far from being an unpleasant one. We were 
 not entirely out of sight of land, as Dover was behind or Calais 
 before us all the time, for in fair weather these are always in view. 
 The steamers are strong and adapted for their work. They are 
 about the size of those that ply in our harbor, the John A. An- 
 drew if you please ; but white paint for a steamer is quite dis- 
 tasteful to people of the region we are in. Black is to them the 
 fine and good color. No money is to be expended for nice 
 inside finish as in the Andrew ; but everything is solid and neat, 
 and we ought to be generous enough to say, " as good as need 
 be," and we will say it. 
 
 Generally this Channel is rough and boisterous. Currents 
 and winds through this great valley of the land and sea are so in 
 conflict, that seldom is there a calmer or even as calm a time 
 as we had. Now the two hours end, and we are nearing shore. 
 England has been left behind, with pleasant memories that it 
 would n't take much reflection to transform into regrets ; yet all is 
 lighted up with good anticipations, for we two Bostonians are 
 soon to stand on the soil of Imperial France. The thought even 
 now kindles peculiar emotions. Sunny France ! an elastic peo- 
 ple, brilliant in exploit ; its great metropolis the epitome of a 
 remarkable civilization ! We thus thought of it then, and thus we 
 think of it now. The steamer slackens her speed, and we are on 
 the upper deck, ready to land at 
 
 CALAIS. 
 
 But two hours' sail across the Channel, and we are now, at 12 
 M. of Wednesday, June 19, standing on French soil, and though 
 but 21 miles from England, and people of the two places have 
 been for centuries crossing the Channel and communicating with 
 each other, still, things here are peculiar and have an outlandish 
 look. It is like Dover, somewhat of a waterfng-place ; and there 
 is a fine beach, with a large chateau-like hotel on the right shore
 
 CALAIS. 351 
 
 as we enter. The wharf at which we land is an old wooden 
 structure, and everything about it has an aged look. We did 
 not go up into the city, but remained at the wharf for the depart- 
 ure of the train which was already there and in waiting. We 
 now began to hear French talked as the rule, and English as 
 the exception. The station was quite a large and substantial 
 structure of brick, and here was what was called a cafe, or, as we 
 should say, a restaurant. The art of restaurating is not well 
 developed outside of America. Lager beer, sandwiches, and a 
 few ordinary cakes are about all that can be found. In a distant 
 part of the building dinner could be had at a cost of about a 
 dollar. In fact people when they came into the car were com- 
 plaining loudly : first, of the lack of things to eat ; next, of quan- 
 tity ; and finally, of exorbitant prices. This was a fair sample of 
 a majority of all we met with. A mild rain was falling, and we 
 contented ourselves with remaining about the station nearly an 
 hour. 
 
 Calais is one of the seaports of France, 19 miles from Bou- 
 logne, and 150 miles north of Paris, which — added to the 21 
 miles from Calais to Dover, and the 62 miles from there 
 to London — makes the distance from the place last named to 
 Paris 233 miles, or the same distance as between New York and 
 Boston. Its population in 1866 was 12,727, or about double 
 that of our Calais, Maine, that being 5,944. Both are border 
 towns, with the English opposite. It is situated on a rather 
 barren district, the surrounding country being of cheap land, and 
 under poor cultivation ; A great difference exists in these 
 respects on the two sides of the water. The place is well forti- 
 fied by a citadel and quite a number of forts ; being one of the 
 border towns, it has, like those of England, been subject to con- 
 stant invasions. 
 
 The harbor is formed of long wooden piers, and is very 
 shallow. It has a lighthouse 190 feet high, which is very com- 
 manding in effect, and adds much to the look of the place as 
 one of commerce. Steamers ply daily, and at times quite often, 
 across the Straits of Dover to England. The streets are broad 
 and level, and so far as we saw, were well paved. The houses 
 were neat, and mostly of stone or brick, though a portion of 
 them were wooden. What are called the ramparts afford a good 
 promenade, and it is said that, as a general thing, English is the 
 spoken language. Among the noteworthy buildings is the old 
 church of Notre Dame, — a favorite name for French chun hes, 
 — the words meaning Our Lady, an allusion to the Virgin Mar) .
 
 352 ENGLAND. 
 
 This church contains the celebrated painting of the Assump- 
 tion by Vandyke. 
 
 The Hotel de Ville is a very old and large structure contain- 
 ing the public city offices, and has a high tower and belfry, with 
 clock and chime of bells. Another ancient structure is the 
 Hotel de Guise, an edifice erected for the wool-stapler's guild — 
 an institution founded by Edward III. There are various sta- 
 tues and busts of distinguished men in the more public places ; 
 but what is a very conspicuous object is the Tower of Guet, 
 which dates back to 12 14, or 669 years ago. It was for centu- 
 ries used as a lighthouse ; and, though having a history of one 
 third of the time from the Christian era, as Longfellow has said 
 of the Belfry of Bruges, "still it watches o'er the town." 
 
 Prior to the twelfth century Calais was an insignificant fishing- 
 village ; but Baldwin IV., Count of Flanders, was especially 
 pleased with the location, and realizing its importance as a sea- 
 port, and its possibilities as a place of resort for sea-bathing and 
 summer residence, greatly improved it, and about the year 997, 
 expended much money for its advancement. Philip of France, 
 Count of Boulogne, in the early part of the thirteenth century 
 enlarged and strengthened its fortifications. 
 
 It was invaded by the English, and in 1347 it was, after a long 
 siege, taken by King Edward II. ; and in the negotiations for 
 peace, Eustace St. Pierre, and five companions were accepted as 
 a ransom for the entire population, and finally, they themselves 
 had their lives spared by the intercession of the wife of Edward, 
 Queen Philippa. From that time it remained in possession of 
 the English a period of 211 years, when in 1558, it was besieged 
 by the French under the Duke of Guise ; and with the exception 
 of the years 1596-8, when it was in the hands of the Span- 
 iards, it has remained in comparatively quiet possession of the 
 French. 
 
 It has been from first to last a somewhat memorable place, 
 and has played an important part in history. Charles II. of 
 England, after the battle of Worcester, Sept. 3, 1651, fled to 
 France ; but the peace of 1 65 5 forced him to leave the country 
 and he went to Bruges, and remained there and at Brussels till 
 he heard of Cromwell's death in 1658, when, in order to avail 
 himself of the great confusion it caused in England, he ventured 
 to station himself at Calais, which he did in August of 1659 ; and, 
 with this as his headquarters, he opened negotiations with Gen- 
 eral Monk, which ended in his being proclaimed king of Eng- 
 land, May 8, 1660.
 
 CALAIS. 353 
 
 It was here also that James II. mustered his forces for the 
 invasion of Ireland ; and finally it is memorable as the place 
 where Louis XVIII. landed, April 21, 1814, after his exile, and 
 the spot is marked by a column and an inscription of the 
 event. 
 
 There is a matter of such interest, more especially to us Bos- 
 tonians, connected with the channel between Dover and Calais, 
 we cannot well refrain from noticing it ; and it is, that on the 7th 
 of January, 1785, two men were here for the first time successful 
 in conducting a balloon on any extended scale, and guiding it 
 to a particular destination ; and we are happy to be able to state 
 that a very distinguished Bostonian was one of these, the cele- 
 brated physician Dr. John Jeffries, who was born in our Boston, 
 Feb. 4, 1 744, being at the time first named, a resident of Lon- 
 don, and in a successful practice of his profession. Being 
 largely interested in scientific pursuits, and especially those re- 
 lating to atmospheric pressure, he was invited by one Francois 
 Blanchard, a Frenchman and an aeronaut, to attempt with him 
 the task of crossing this channel. They started from the cliffs 
 of Dover at the time before named, and safely landed in the for- 
 est of Guines in France. The doctor, in consequence of his 
 venture, received great attentions from learned and scientific 
 men and societies in London and Paris. Blanchard, who had 
 planned the voyage and furnished the balloon, was rewarded by 
 Louis XVI. with a gift of 12,000 francs, or $2,500, and a life-pen- 
 sion of 1,200 francs annually. He died in Paris, March 7, 1809, 
 at the age of 71. Dr. Jeffries removed back to Boston in 1789, 
 four years after the balloon passage, and died there Sept. 16, 
 1 8 19, at the age 75, and was buried in the Granary burial- 
 ground on Tremont Street. 
 
 There are two things of especial interest that may be named 
 as we speak of Dr. Jeffries. One is that it was he and 
 John Winslow of Boston who first recognized the body of Gen- 
 eral Warren who fell at the battle of Bunker Hill. It lay where 
 it fell till the succeeding day, when, being recognized, it was 
 buried on the same spot. The other fact is that he was one of 
 the early permanent settlers of East Boston, at what is now — and 
 long has been known as — Jeffries Point. Although in a degree 
 foreign to our purpose, yet we extend our remarks and name an 
 in< ident of connecting interest, which took place in this year of 
 I )r. Jeffries' decease. 
 
 After iii'- di ath of Blanchard in 1809, his wife, Marie Made- 
 line Sophie Armant, who had accompanied him on many of 
 
 23
 
 35-4 ENGLAND. 
 
 the sixty-six voyages he had made, continued making like aerial 
 excursions for the following ten years ; till on a day of June in 
 this year, 1819, she ascended from the Tivoli Garden in Paris, 
 when her balloon, which was illuminated with fireworks, took 
 fire while at a considerable height, and she, falling, was dashed to 
 pieces. In a few months after, as named, died Dr. Jeffries, and 
 so ended the earthly career of the trio most interested in that 
 first great balloon enterprise between Dover and Calais, thirty- 
 four years before. 
 
 There are yet a few places of interest, which, although not in- 
 cluded in our journey, are so readily reached by detours from 
 places we did visit, that we deem it advisable to name them. 
 Conspicuous among them are the three cathedrals not described 
 in our work : these are Chichester, one of the five English 
 cathedrals with a spire ; Wells, celebrated for its elaborately 
 carved west facade and the wide grounds in front of it ; and 
 Exeter, having also a highly decorated west end, with the two 
 transepts ending as towers. 
 
 Chichester is easily reached by a ride by rail of 28^ miles 
 from Brighton ; Exeter by one of 80 miles from Bristol ; and 
 Wells, by one of 19 miles from Bath. 
 
 Lake Windermere, in no way inferior in picturesque beauty 
 to the lakes of Ireland or Scotland, may be visited by a ride of 
 1 5 miles from Lowgill, a station between Leeds and Carlisle. 
 
 Glastonbury Abbey ruins are excelled in beauty and interest 
 by none in England ; they may be reached by a ride of 6 miles 
 from Wells, and may be visited while making the tour to the 
 cathedral. 
 
 Tintern Abbey, remarkable for its beauty, may be visited 
 from Gloucester. It is a ride by rail of 40 miles to Chepstow, 
 and then by coach for 14 miles further. It hardly need be 
 added that these ruins are over the Welsh border. 
 
 Fountain's Abbey ruins, renowned and of indescribable 
 beauty and interest, are 13J miles from Harrowgate, a town 
 that may be reached by a ride of 27 miles by rail from either 
 York or Leeds. In the vicinity of both Fountain's Abbey and 
 Harrowgate are the celebrated ruins of Bolton Priory, and 
 no day can be more interestingly employed than one devoted 
 to these unusual and remarkable places. 
 
 In Scotland, 30 miles from Glasgow, is the town of Ayr, in 
 which are the ruins of the Kirk of Alloway, the scene of " Tarn 
 O' Shanter." Near-by is the cottage in which Robert Burns
 
 CALAIS. 355 
 
 was born ; and a fourth of a mile away, on the banks of his 
 celebrated Doon, is a fine monument to his memory. 
 
 The famous ruins of Jedburg Abbey are reached by a car- 
 riage-ride of eight miles from Melrose. The town itself is pecu- 
 liar in the quaintness of many of its streets and buildings, and it 
 is a principle with the inhabitants to preserve these antiquities. 
 
 Dryburg Abbey ruins are beautiful in the extreme, and a fit 
 resting-place for the remains of Sir Walter Scott. They are 
 within four miles of Melrose. 
 
 But we find the theme lengthening, and must forbear ; and 
 in closing will simply say, that the Giant's Causeway may 
 be reached to advantage by a jaunt from Dublin to Belfast, 
 one of the chief cities of Ireland, 88 miles north of the capital ; 
 thence to Londonderry, one of the most finished and intelligent 
 places of the Emerald isle ; and thence to the northern border, 
 and by steamer to the Causeway. The spot may also be reached 
 direct by steamer from Belfast. 
 
 And now we take a respectful leave of our readers, trusting 
 that our humble work may be acceptable, and that their knowl- 
 edge has been increased, or their memory refreshed, as to 
 things in England, Ireland, and Scotland.
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Abbeys: Dryburg, 355 ; Fountain's, 
 354 ; Glastonbury, 354 ; Jedburg, 355 ; 
 Kirkstall, 192 et seq. ; Melrose, 238 ; 
 Muckross, 36 et seq. ; St. Finian, 32 
 et seq. ; Tintern, 354 ; Westminster, 
 131 et seq. 
 
 Abbotsford: Sir Walter Scott's resi- 
 dence, 234 et seq. ; his last days at, 
 236 et seq. 
 
 Alphabet, Ogham, 27. 
 
 Amesbury, no. 
 
 Ayr, 354. 
 
 B 
 
 Banin, John, 65. 
 
 Bath: city of, 102; cathedral of, 102; 
 bell-chimes, baths, and pump-room, 
 104, 105 ; ancient customs, 105 ; Beau 
 Nash, 104, 105 ; Samuel Pepy's visit 
 to, 1668, 105 et seq.; Richard Brins- 
 ley Sheridan, 106. 
 
 Becket, Thomas a: biography of, 336 i 
 shrine of, 338. 
 
 BEDE, the Venerable, 248 et seq. 
 
 Beherton: little church of, and rec- 
 tory, 114; Rev. George Herbert's 
 ministry, 115. 
 
 Birkenhead, 96. 
 
 Birmingham : city of, 179; parks, 180; 
 statistics concerning, 180 et seq. 
 
 Black Valley, Ireland, 28. 
 
 Blarney : ride to, 18 ; castle of, 19 et 
 seq.; legends concerning, 21. 
 
 BOLTON Priory, 354. 
 
 BOKO, Brian, 70. 
 
 Boston : town of, 270 ; St. Botolph's 
 Church, 271 ; Kcv. John Cotton, 271 
 et seq. ; English hotel names, 273. 
 
 Boyle, Earl of, 49. 
 
 Bridge, old London, 138 et seq. 
 
 Brigid, St., chapel of, 67. 
 
 Brighton : city of, 345 ; beach and 
 promenade, 346 ; residence of George 
 IV.. pavilion, 346; chain piers, 347; 
 church of Rev. F. W. Robertson, 348; 
 Doomsday Book, 348 ; history of, 
 349 i Quaker meeting, 349. 
 
 Brighton, New, 76. 
 
 Bristol : city of, 97 ; St. Mary Rad- 
 cliffe Church, 9S ; Thomas Chatter- 
 ton's forgeries, 99; first steamships 
 to America, 100; cathedral of, 100; 
 old institutions, 102. 
 
 Cabot, John, 100. 
 
 Calais (France) : passage to, 350 ; city 
 of, 351 ; ancient buildings, 351 ; his- 
 tory of, 352 ; balloon ascension, 353 ; 
 American Dr. John Jeffries, 359. 
 
 Callender, 210. 
 
 Cambridge : city of, 295 ; respect for 
 antiquities, 296 ; colleges, 296 et seq. ; 
 Fitzwilliam Museum, ancient church- 
 es, 310, 311 ; University Library, 
 School of Pythagoras, Barnwell Pri- 
 ory, Hobson's Conduit, "Hobson's 
 choice," 311 ; government of the Uni- 
 versity, expense of education, 312; 
 college statistics, 314. 
 
 Canterbury: cultivation of land in 
 vicinity of, 331 ; town of, 332 ; Dane 
 John, 333 ; cathedral, 333 et seq. ; 
 Thomas a Becket, 336 et seq.; emi- 
 nent men of, 340; Walloons, 341; 
 Edward the Black Prince, 342. 
 
 Car, Irish jaunting, 18.
 
 358 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Carlisle: city of, 193; cathedral of, 
 193 ; celebrated bishops, 194 ; castle, 
 195 ; William Paley, 195. 
 
 Carkick-on-Suir, 59. 
 
 Cascade, Tore, 38. 
 
 Cash el, rock of, 66. 
 
 Castles: Blarney, 19; Carlisle, 195; 
 Donnington, 125; Edinburgh, 228; 
 Kilkenny, 63 ; Loughmore, 67; Monks- 
 town, and Anastatia Goold's exploit 
 at building it, ti ; Ross, 34. 
 
 Cathedrals : Bath, 102 ; Bristol, 
 101 ; Canterbury, 353; Chester, Si; 
 Chichester, 354 ; Christ Church (Dub- 
 lin), 51 ; Durham, 246 ; Ely, 290 ; Ex- 
 eter, 354; Glasgow, 201; Gloucester, 
 95 ; Hereford, 93 ; Lichfield, 1S2 ; 
 Lincoln, 268 ; Norwich, 2S6 ; Oxford, 
 162 ; Peterboro, 276 ; Rochester, 330 ; 
 St. Canice, 63; St. Patrick's, 4.S; St. 
 Paul's, 143; Salisbury, 106; Wells, 
 354 ; Winchester, 119 ; Worcester, SS. 
 
 Cathedral Service : history of, 47 ; 
 chanting introduced, 48. 
 
 Causeway, Giant's, 355. 
 
 Chatham, 331. 
 
 Chatterton, Thomas, biography of, 
 and literary forgeries, 98 ct scq. 
 
 Chester : city of. 79 ; ancient walls of, 
 79, 80 ; ruins, ancient buildings, cathe- 
 dral, 81 : St. John's Church, 82 ; God's 
 Providence House, barracks, cathedral 
 service, military parade, American 
 Revolution flags, 83 ; Roman bath, 
 eminent men. 84. 
 
 Chichester, cathedral of, 354. 
 
 Churches: Christ's, Boston, Mass., 
 151; St. Clement Danes, London, 
 156; St. John's, Chester, S2 ; St. 
 Sepulchre's, London. 154. 
 
 Cork : city of, 11; Holinshead's his- 
 tory of. 16. 
 
 Cotton, Rev. John: epitaph of, 125; 
 biography of, 271. 
 
 Coventry: city of, 178; Lady Godiva 
 and Peeping Tom, 179. 
 
 D 
 
 Dover: ride to, 342; castle of, 343; 
 town of, 343 ; harbor of, 343; history 
 of, 344; chalk-cliffs, 345. 
 
 Drake, John, the hermit, 37. 
 
 Dublin : city cf, 44 et scq.; St. Pat- 
 rick's Cathedral, 48 ; Christ Church 
 Cathedral, 50; Phcenix Park, 51; Roy- 
 al Hospital, 50; parliaments held here, 
 reformed religion inaugurated, 53 ; 
 custom-house, courts, 55. 
 
 Dunloe, cave and gap of, 27. 
 
 Durham: city of, 244; cathedral of, 
 246 ; sanctuary ground, 247 ; Old 
 Galilee, 248; Venerable Bcde, St. 
 Cuthbert, 249 et scq. ; monuments, 
 250; bishops of, 250 ; relics, 251. 
 
 Edinburgh : city of, 21S ; New City of, 
 Calton Hill, Nelson's Monument, Na- 
 tional Monument, 219, 220; Burns 
 memorial, Sir Walter Scott's memo- 
 rial, 220; Holyrood palace, 221; 
 Holyrood chapel, 223 ; Queen's foun- 
 tain and bath, 224 ; Salisbury Ciags, 
 Old City, 224 ; wynds, or closes, Mai- 
 son Dieu, 225 ; St Giles's Church, 
 cemetery, 226, 227 ; Tolbooth, John 
 Knox's house, 227 ; reminiscences of 
 Knox, 227; theatres and customs re- 
 lating to, distinguished residents, 22S ; 
 abbey sanctuary, 228 ; Sir Walter 
 Scott's residence, 22S ; castle, 228 ct 
 seq. ; St. Margaret's chapel, 231 ; old 
 cannon, Mons Meg, 231 ; castle espla- 
 nade, 231 ct scq. 
 
 Ely : town of, 289 ; cathedral of, 290. 
 
 Estates, landed, 44 et scq. 
 
 Eton School, 322. 
 
 Ghearhodh, Morgyrhead, Coun- 
 tess of, 58. 
 
 Giant's Causeway, 355. 
 
 Ginkle, General De, 44. 
 
 Glasgow : city of, 199 ; Presbyterian- 
 ism, 199 ; history, streets, and parks, 
 200; college, cathedral, necropolis, 
 201 ; Martyrs' Monument, 202 et 
 seq. ; great chimneys. 204 ; Presbyte- 
 rian meeting, Sunday intemperance,
 
 INDEX. 
 
 359 
 
 Glastonbury, 354. 
 
 Glena Bay, 32. 
 
 Gloucester: city of, 95; history and ca- 
 thedral of, 95*7" seq. ; Dr.Jenners inoc- 
 ulation for smallpox, Robert Raikes's 
 Sunday-school, Rev. George White- 
 field, 96 ; martyr Hooper burned here 
 at the stake, Thomas More's descrip- 
 tion of Richard III., 97. 
 
 Gray, Thomas, the poet, 325. 
 
 Green, Hoggin, his Oberammergau 
 Play, 53- 
 
 Guinness, Sir B. L., his munificent 
 donation for restoration of Christ 
 Church Cathedral, 50. 
 
 H 
 
 Hampton Court, 158, 329. 
 
 Henry, Rev. Matthew, ministry of, and 
 Commentary, S4. 
 
 Herbert: Henry A., 38; Rev. George, 
 115. 
 
 Hereford : city of, 92 ; celebrated 
 characters of, River Wye, 93 ; cathe- 
 dral, 93 et seq. 
 
 Hooper, Rev. John, the martyr, 97. 
 
 I 
 
 Innisfallen, island of, 32. 
 
 Ireland : coast of, 6 ; spring season 
 in, 10 ; statistics of, 6, 8, 69 ; history 
 of, 69 et seq. ; English in, 40. 
 
 J 
 
 Jenner, Dr. Edward, his inoculation 
 for smallpox, 96. 
 
 Jeffries, Dr. John, his balloon ascen- 
 sion, 353. 
 
 Johnson, Dr. Samuel, 156 et seq. 
 
 K 
 
 Kearney, Kate, her cottage and eve 
 
 to business, 27. 
 Ki KB] 1 : Etog r, Charles, John Philip, 
 .'■ I Mrs. Siddons), 93. 
 
 kl KILWORTH, CUtle and grounds of, 
 1 -(> ct seq. 
 
 K 1 1 I 1 I.. I-ady Alice, her trial for witch- 
 craft, 64. 
 
 Kilkenny : town of, 62 ; castle of, St. 
 Canice Cathedral, 63 ; witchcraft delu- 
 sion, round tower, 64. 
 
 Killarney : town of, 23 ; curious fu- 
 neral custom, 24 ; ride to lakes, scen- 
 ery, 26 ; description of lakes, 29 et 
 seq. ; legends, 31. 
 
 Knox, Rev. John, residence of, 227. 
 
 Lakes: of Ireland, 29 et seq.; Scot- 
 land, 206 et seq.; Windermere (Eng- 
 land,) 354. 
 
 Landed Estates, and laws of primo- 
 geniture, bane of the country, 44. 
 
 Laud, William : archbishop, 122 ; place 
 of birth, 339. 
 
 Leamington, 174. 
 
 Lee, river, passage up to Cork, villages 
 and scenery, 10. 
 
 Leeds : city of, 191 ; collieries, Rev. 
 Dr. Priestley, 191 ct seq. ; season, 
 Kirkstall .Abbey, 192 et seq. 
 
 Lichfield : city of, 1S1 ; Dr. Samuel 
 Johnson's birthplace, 181 el seq. ; ca- 
 thedral, 1S2 et seq. ; celebrated bish- 
 ops, 184; cathedral desecrations and 
 repairs, 1S5 t/" seq. 
 
 Limerick: city of, 40 ; cathedral, 40 ; 
 chime-bells, castle, 42 ; resistance to 
 England, 43 et seq. 
 
 Lincoln : city of, 265 ; industries of, 
 266 ; cathedral, 268 ct seq. 
 
 Liverpool: passage to, from Dublin, 
 75 ; approach to harbor of, 75 et seq ; 
 docks and landing-stage, 77; history 
 of place, 77; intemperance, court 
 scenes, 78; St. George's Hall, sub- 
 urbs, Toxton, Sefton Park, 79. 
 
 Loe, Thomas, who converted William 
 Penn to Quakerism, 16. 
 
 London: city of, 129; West End of, 
 Hyde Park, 129 ct seq.: Westminster 
 Abbey, 131 ct seq.; Houses of Parlia- 
 ment, ij^ctscq.; River Thames, 135; 
 Victoria Embankment, 130; Albert 
 Embankment, 137; bridges, 117; old 
 [on bridge, 138; old watermen's 
 troubles on the Thames, 140 etstg ; 
 river frozen over, 141 et uq.\ s t. 
 Paul's, 143 ct stq.\ streets ol, 143;
 
 360 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 climate of, 144; National Gallery, 
 British Museum, 152; cabs, parks, 
 153; old churches, 154; tower of, 
 157; Hampton Court, 158; Bunhill 
 burial-ground, 159; Fire Monument, 
 
 J«5- 
 
 Ludlow, Lord, captor of Ross Castle, 
 
 34- 
 Lynn, 279 et seq. 
 
 M 
 
 Manchester: history of, 190; manu- 
 factures, 190 et seq. 
 
 Maryeoro, 67. 
 
 Melrose: journey to, 233; abbey of, 
 238 et seq. 
 
 More, Sir Thomas, his description of 
 Richard III., 97. 
 
 Mountains : of Ireland, 38 et seq.; of 
 Scotland, 206 et seq. 
 
 Muskerry, Lord, defender of Ross 
 Castle, 34. 
 
 N 
 
 Nash, Beau, 104 et seq. 
 
 Newbury : passage to, from Reading, 
 123; old Jack Mouse, 123; Jack of 
 Newbury, 123 et seq.; extraordinary 
 cloth manufacture, Rev. Dr. Twiss, 
 Westminster Catechisms, New Eng- 
 land Primer, Benjamin Woodbridge, 
 124 et seq. ; Donnington Castle, 125 ; 
 Chaucer's house, St. Nicholas Church, 
 curious customs and ancient epitaphs, 
 1 26 et seq. 
 
 Newcastle-on-Tyne, 243. 
 
 Norwich: history of, 283; eminent 
 persons, 283 et seq. ; relics, 284 ; ca- 
 thedral, 286 et seq. ; bishops of, 289. 
 
 O 
 
 Oxford : city of, 161 ; martyrs, 161 et 
 seq.; cathedral, Bodleian Library, 
 162; curiosities, 163; colleges, 163^ 
 seq. ; students, 165 et seq. 
 
 Penn, William : sailed for America, 11 ; 
 conversion to Quakerism, 16. 
 
 Pepys, Samuel, 105, 106, 113. 
 
 Peterboro' : city of, 276; cathedral, 
 276 et seq. ; Whit-Monday, 278 ; emi- 
 nent personages, 279. 
 
 Prout, Father, 21. 
 
 Punch Bowl, the Devil's, 39. 
 
 Purcell, ancient estate of, 60 et seq. 
 
 Queenstown : harbor of, 6 ; city of, 8 ; 
 peculiar customs, 9. 
 
 Raikes, Robert, father of Sunday- 
 schools, 96. 
 
 Railways, foreign, 22 et seq. 
 
 Reading: city of, 121 ; birthplace of 
 Archbishop Laud, 122 ; Congregation- 
 alist meeting, 127 et seq. 
 
 Robertson, Rev. F. W., 348. 
 
 Rob Roy : country, 207 ; biography of, 
 207 et seq. 
 
 Rochester: city of, 329; cathedral, 
 330 et seq. 
 
 Roe, Henry, Esq., his work of restor- 
 ing St. Patrick's Cathedral, 52. 
 
 Ross, island and castle, 33 et seq. 
 
 Rudhall, Abel, and Abraham, cele- 
 brated bell-founders, 96. 
 
 Salisbury: city of, 106; cathedral, 
 106 et seq. 
 
 Sarum, Old, ruins of, 10S et seq. 
 
 Scott, Sir Walter: Edinburgh resi- 
 dence, 22S ; Abbotsford, 234 et seq. ; 
 closing days and hours of his life, 
 236 et seq. 
 
 Service : intonation of, 48 ; reform of 
 Church of England, in Ireland, 54. 
 
 Shakespeare, 170, 174. 
 
 SHANDON: St. Ann's Church of, 13; 
 "sweet bells of," 14. 
 
 Sheffield, 264 et seq. 
 
 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 106. 
 
 Slovf.nliness of American roads, 19. 
 
 Shrewsbury : city of, S5 ; River Sev- 
 ern, St. Chad's Church, Quarry
 
 INDEX. 
 
 361 
 
 Walk, parliaments, historical inci- 
 dents, 86 et scq. ; celebrated cakes, 
 St. Mary's Church, the Shrewsbury 
 clock by which Sir John Falstaff 
 fought an hour, 87 et seq. 
 
 Smith, Captain John, monument and 
 epitaph in St Sepulchre's Church, 
 London, 1 54 et seq. 
 
 Staffordshire, smoke and iron dis- 
 trict, 189. 
 
 Steamships, first that crossed the 
 ocean, 100. 
 
 Stirling : wars there, 210 et seq. ; 
 castle, 212 et seq.; old Gray Friars 
 Church, 213; ancient guildhall, 213 
 et seq. ; ancient burial-ground, Wal- 
 lace Monument, 214 et seq. ; biography 
 of Wallace, 215 et seq. 
 
 Stoke Pogis: ride to, from Windsor, 
 321 et scq.; church grounds, 322 et 
 seq. ; the " ivy mantled tower " church, 
 323 ; Gray's Elegy and biography, 
 
 3 2 5- 
 
 Stoke-upon-Trent : city of, 187 ; pot- 
 tery manufacture, 187 et seq. ; birth- 
 place of Rev. John Lightfoot, 188. 
 
 Stonehenge, no et seq. 
 
 Stratford-on-Avon : town of, 169 
 et seq. ; Shakespeare's birthplace, 
 church, 1 70 et scq. ; his wife's monu- 
 ment, 172 ; biography of him, 172 et 
 seq. ; Shottery, residence of Anne 
 Hathaway, his bride, 1 Ji et seq. 
 
 Supremacy, act of, 70. 
 
 Swift, Dean of St Patrick's, Dub- 
 lin, 49. 
 
 Theology, influence of Scotch on the 
 Irish, 46. 
 
 Torc Cascade, 38. 
 
 Tower, Reginald, ancient, at Water- 
 ford, 58. 
 
 Trent, river, 187 et seq. 
 
 Twiss, Rev. William, 124 et seq. 
 
 Tyne, Newcastle on, 243. 
 
 Valley, Black, in Ireland, 28. 
 
 W 
 
 Walton, Isaac, 116, 119. 
 
 Walloons, the French silk-weavers, 
 at Canterbury, 341. 
 
 Warbeck, Perkin, 16. 
 
 Warwick : city of, 167 ; castle of, 167 
 et seq. ; Leicester Hospital, 169. 
 
 Waterford : city of, 57 ; ancient Reg- 
 inald tower, 58 ; barracks, soldiers, 
 police, history of city, 59. 
 
 Wells : fishing-town of, 282 ; cathe- 
 dral town, 354. 
 
 Whitefield. Rev. George, his place 
 of birth, death, and burial, 96. 
 
 Wilton : town of, 112 ; Samuel Pepys' 
 visit to, in 166S, 113. 
 
 Winchester: history of, 116; cele- 
 brated men, old museum, 117; touch- 
 ing for cure of King's Evil, ban- 
 queting hall, King Arthur's Round 
 Table, Charles II.'s palace, cathedral, 
 ii% et seq. ; Isaac Walton's tomb, 119; 
 marked historical events, 120; re- 
 mains of bishops, 120 et seq. 
 
 Windsor.: town of, 316; castle, 317 
 et seq. ; St George's Chapel, Prince 
 Albert's mausoleum, 318. 
 
 Worcester : history of, 88 ; cathe- 
 dral, 88 et scq. ; bell and clock-chimes, 
 landscapes, 90 et scq. ; St. Andrew's 
 Church, 91 ; potteries, 91 et seq. ; ca- 
 thedral service attended, 92. 
 
 Worship : origin of houses of Chris- 
 tian, 260 ; cathedrals and minsters, 
 cause of their erection, 266 et seq.; 
 progress made and making, 269. 
 
 Woodisridge, Benjamin, first gradu- 
 ate of Harvard College, 124 et seq. 
 
 York: city of, 254; history of, 254 et 
 seq. ; distinguished personages, 255 
 et seq. ; St. Mary's Abbey, ruins of, 
 257 et scq.; relics, 258; York Min- 
 ster, 259 et scq. ; archbishopric of, 261 
 et seq.; interesting relics, 263; Min- 
 ster's history, 26S et seq. 
 
 Yorkshire, 253.
 
 AA OOP 851 766 6