Young Americans Abroad. Various
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It has nine elliptical arches, of which the middle one is one hundred feet in width. Recently this bridge has been thoroughly repaired. I think this is my favorite stand-point for the river and city. Nowhere else have I obtained such a view up and down the river. Here I have a full prospect of the Tower, St. Paul's Cathedral, Somerset House, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and perhaps twenty-five other churches! But the great bridge of all is the Waterloo one, commenced in 1811, and opened in 1817, on the 18th of June, the anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. Of course, the Duke of Wellington figured upon the occasion. At this point the river is one thousand three hundred and twenty-six feet wide; and the bridge is of nine elliptical arches, each of one hundred and twenty feet space, and thirty-five feet high above high water, and its entire length two thousand four hundred and fifty-six feet. It is painful to hear the sad stories which have a connection with this magnificent structure. It seems the chosen resort of London suicides, and very frequent are the events which almost justify its appellation—"the Bridge of Sighs." I love to walk this and the other bridges, and look at the mighty city, and think of its wonderful history and its existing place in the affairs of the world; and I cannot help thinking of the reflection of the wise man—"One generation passeth away, but the earth remaineth." I have never felt my own insignificance so much, Charley, as when walking in one of these crowded streets. I know no one; I am unknown; I am in solitude, and feel it more, perhaps, than I should if alone upon a mountain top or in a wilderness. I am sure I have told you enough for once, and perhaps you are as tired of my letter as I was in going over the places I have written to you about; so I will relieve your patience.
I am yours always,
weld.
Letter 6.
London.
Dear Charley:—
All round London there are the most exquisite villages or towns, full of charming retreats, boxes of wealthy tradesmen, and some very fine rows of brick and stone residences, with gardens in front. I am amused to see almost every house having a name. Thus you find one house called, on the gateway, Hamilton Villa, the next Hawthorne Lodge, whilst opposite their fellows rejoice in the names, Pelham House, Cranborne Cottage; and so it is with hundreds of neat little domiciles. I think the road up to St. John's Wood is one of the prettiest I have seen; and there are in it perhaps two hundred habitations, each having its sobriquet. Since writing to you last we have been to Camberwell, a very pretty place, two or three miles from the city. We called on a gentleman who had a party that night, and we were politely invited, and spent an agreeable evening. The supper was elegant, and the ladies were quite inquisitive as to our social manners. One gentleman present had a son in Wisconsin, and he seemed to fancy that, as that state was in the United States, it was pretty much like the rest of the country. We told him that Wisconsin was about as much like New York and Massachusetts as Brighton, in 1851, was like what it was one hundred years ago. When we talk with well-educated persons here, we are much amused at their entire unacquaintedness with American geography and history. I think an importation of Morse's School Geography would be of great service. We very often lose our patience when we hear about the great danger of life in America. I find very intelligent and respectable persons who fancy that life is held by a slight tenure in the Union, and that law and order are almost unknown. Now, the first week we were in London the papers teemed with accounts of murders in various parts of England. One newspaper detailed no less than eleven oases of murder, or executions on account of murders. Poison, however, seems just at present the prevailing method by which men and women are removed.
As to accidents in travel, we, no doubt, have our full share; but since our arrival in England the railroad trains have had some pretty rough shakings, and the results in loss of life and limb would have passed for quite ugly enough, even had they happened in the west. I very much wish you could have been with us on Easter Monday, when we passed the day at Greenwich, and were at the renowned Greenwich Fair, which lasts for three days. The scene of revelry takes place in the Park, a royal one, and really a noble one. Here all the riff-raff and bobtail of London repair in their finery, and have a time. You can form no notion of the affair; it cannot be described. The upper part of the Park, towards the Royal Observatory, is very steep, and down this boys and girls, men and women, have a roll. Such scenes as are here to be witnessed we cannot match. Nothing can exceed the doings that occur. All the public houses swarm, and in no spot have I ever seen so many places for drinking as are here. The working-men of London, and apprentices, with wires and sweethearts, all turn out Easter Monday. It seems as though all the horses, carts, chaises, and hackney coaches of the city were on the road. We saw several enormous coal wagons crammed tightly with boys and girls. On the fine heath, or down, that skirts the Park, are hundreds of donkeys, and you are invited to take a halfpenny, penny, or twopenny ride. All sorts of gambling are to be seen. One favorite game with the youngsters was to have a tobacco box, full of coppers, stuck on a stick standing in a hole, and then, for a halfpenny paid to the proprietor, you are entitled to take a shy at the mark. If it falls into the hole, you lose; if you knock it off, and away from the hole, you take it. It requires, I fancy, much adroitness and experience to make any thing at "shying" at the "bacca box." At night, Greenwich is all alive—life is out of London and in the fair. But let the traveller who has to return to town beware. The road is full of horses and vehicles, driven by drunken men and boys; and, for four or five miles, you can imagine that a city is besieged, and that the inhabitants are flying from the sword. O, such weary-looking children as we saw that day! One favorite amusement was to draw a little wooden instrument quick over the coat of another person, when it produces a noise precisely like that of a torn garment. Hundreds of these machines were in the hands of the urchins who crowded the Park. Here, for the first time, I saw the veritable gypsy of whose race we have read so much in Bòrrow's Zincali. The women are very fine looking, and some of the girls were exquisitely beautiful. They are a swarthy-looking set, and seem to be a cross of Indian and Jew. Those we saw were proper wiry-looking fellows. One or two of the men were nattily dressed, with fancy silk handkerchiefs. They live in tents, and migrate through the midland counties, but I believe are not as numerous as they were thirty years ago. You will not soon forget how we were pleased with the memoirs of Bamfield Moore Carew, who was once known as their king in Great Britain. I wonder that book has never been reprinted in America. I am pretty sure that Greenwich Park would please your taste. I think the view from the Royal Observatory, and from whence longitude is reckoned, is one of the grandest I have ever seen. You get a fine view of the noble palace once the royal residence, but now the Sailor's Home. You see the Thames, with its immense burden, and, through the mist, the great city. As to the Hospital, we shall leave that for another excursion: we came to Greenwich at present merely to witness Easter Fair, and it will not soon be forgotten by any of us.
Yours, &c.,
james.
Letter 7.
Bristol.
Dear Charley:—
As we had a few days to spare before the exhibition opened, we proposed to run down to Bristol and Bath, and pass a week. We took the Great Western train first-class ears, and made the journey of one hundred and twenty miles in two hours and forty minutes. This is the perfection of travelling. The cars are very commodious, holding eight persons, each having a nicely-cushioned chair. The rail is the broad gage; and we hardly felt the motion, so excellent is the road. The country through which we passed was very beautiful, and perhaps it never appears to more advantage than in the gay garniture of spring. We left Windsor Castle to our left, and Eton College, and passed by Beading, a fine, flourishing town; and at Swindon we made a stay of ten minutes. The station at this place is very spacious and elegant. Here the passengers have the only opportunity to obtain refreshments on the route; and never did people seem more intent upon laying in provender. The table was finely laid out, and a great variety tempted the appetite. The railroad company, when they leased this station, stipulated that every train