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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed 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 n.o.ble 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 ent.i.tled 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 amus.e.m.e.nt 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 Brrow'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 n.o.ble 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 pa.s.s a week. We took the Great Western train first-cla.s.s 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 pa.s.sed 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 pa.s.sed by Beading, a fine, flourishing town; and at Swindon we made a stay of ten minutes. The station at this place is very s.p.a.cious and elegant. Here the pa.s.sengers 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 appet.i.te. The railroad company, when they leased this station, stipulated that every train should pa.s.s ten minutes at it. But the express train claimed exemption, and refused to afford the time. The landlord prosecuted the company, obtained satisfactory damages, and now even the express train affords its pa.s.sengers time to recruit at Swindon. This place has grown up under the auspices of the railroad, and one can hardly fancy a prettier place than environs the station. The cottages are of stone, of the Elizabethan and Tudor style, and are very numerous; while the church, which is just finished, is one of the neatest affairs I have yet seen in England. The town of Swindon is about two miles from the station, and I expect to visit it in the course of my journey. You know, my dear Charley, how long and fondly I have antic.i.p.ated my visit to my native city, and can imagine my feelings on this route homewards. We pa.s.sed through Bath, a most beautiful city, (and I think as beautiful as any I ever saw,) and then in half an hour we entered Bristol. The splendid station-house of the railroad was new to me, but the old streets and houses were all familiar as if they had been left but yesterday. The next morning I called on my friends, and you may think how sad my disappointment was to find that a dangerous accident had just placed my nearest relative in the chamber of painful confinement for probably three months. It was a pleasant thing to come home to scenes of childhood and youth, and I was prepared to enjoy every hour; but I soon realized that here all our roses have thorns. Of course, in Bristol I need no guide; and the boys are, I a.s.sure you, pretty thoroughly f.a.gged out, when night comes, with our perambulations through the old city and neighborhood.

Bristol has claims upon the attention of the stranger, not only as one of the oldest cities in England, but on account of its romantic scenery.

The banks of the Avon are not to be surpa.s.sed by the scenes afforded by any other river of its size in the world. This city was founded by Brennus, the chieftain of the Gauls and the conqueror of Rome, 388 B.C., and tradition states that his brother Belinus aided him in the work. The statues of these worthies are quaintly carved on the gateway of John's Church, in Broad Street, and are of very great antiquity. In the earliest writings that bear upon the west of England--the Welsh Chronicles--this city is called _Caer oder_, which means the city of the _Chasm_. This the Saxons called _Clifton_. The Avon runs through a tremendous fissure in the rocks called Vincent's Rocks; and hence the name given to the suburbs of the city, on its banks--Clifton. Of this place we shall have much to tell you. Another Welsh name for the city was _Caer Brito_, or the painted city, or the famous city. Bristol, like Rome, stands on seven hills, and on every side is surrounded by the most attractive scenery. It has made quite a figure in history, and its castle was an object of great importance during the civil wars between Charles I. and his Parliament. This city stands in two counties, and has the privileges of one itself. It is partly in Gloucestershire and partly in Somersetshire. The population of Bristol, with Clifton and the Hot Wells, is about two hundred thousand. My first excursion with the boys was to Redcliffe Church, which is thought to be the finest parish church in England. This is the church where poor Chatterton said that he found the Rowley MSS. No one of taste visits the city without repairing to this venerable pile. Its antiquity, beauty of architecture, and the many interesting events connected with its history, claim particular notice.

This church was probably commenced about the beginning of the thirteenth century; but it was completed by William Cannynge, Sen., mayor of the city, in 1396. In 1456, the lofty spire was struck by lightning, and one hundred feet fell upon the south aisle. The approach from Redcliffe Street is very impressive. The highly-ornamented tower, the west front of the church, its unrivalled north porch, and the transept, with flying b.u.t.tresses, pinnacles, and parapet, cannot fail to gratify every beholder. The building stands on a hill, and is approached by a magnificent flight of steps, guarded by a heavy bal.u.s.trade. In length, the church and the Lady Chapel is two hundred and thirty-nine feet; from north to south of the cross aisles is one hundred and seventeen feet; the height of the middle aisle is fifty-four, and of the north and south aisles, twenty-five feet.

The impression produced on the spectator by the interior is that of awe and reverence, as he gazes on the cl.u.s.tered pillars, the mullioned windows, the panelled walls, the groined ceilings, decorated with ribs, tracery, and bosses, all evincing the skill of its architects and the wonderful capabilities of the Gothic style.

The east window and screen have long been hidden by some large paintings of Hogarth. The subjects of these are the Ascension, the Three Marys at the Sepulchre, and the High Priest sealing Christ's Tomb.

On a column in the south transept is a flat slab, with a long inscription, in memory of Sir William Penn, father of William Penn, the great founder of Pennsylvania. The column is adorned with his banner and armor.

The boys, who had so often read of Guy, Earl of Warwick, and of his valorous exploits, were greatly pleased to find in this church, placed against a pillar, a rib of the Dun cow which he is said to have slain.

You may be very sure that we inquired for the room in which Chatterton said he found old Monk Rowley's poems. It is an hexagonal room over the north porch, in which the archives were kept Chatterton's uncle was s.e.xton of the church; and the boy had access to the building, and carried off parchments at his pleasure. The idea of making a literary forgery filled his mind; and if you read Southey and Cottle's edition of the works of Chatterton, or, what is far better, an admirable Life of the young poet by John Dix, a gifted son of Bristol, now living in America, you will have an interesting view of the character of this remarkable youth.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Thomas Chatterton.]

At the east end of the church is the Chapel of the Virgin Mary. A n.o.ble room it is. A large statue of Queen Elizabeth, in wood, stands against one of the windows, just where it did thirty-seven years ago, when I was a youngster, and went to her majesty's grammar school, which is taught in the chapel. I showed the boys the names of my old school-fellows cut upon the desks. How various their fates! One fine fellow, whose name yet lives on the wood, found his grave in the West Indies, on a voyage he had antic.i.p.ated with great joy.

I am glad to say that a spirited effort is now making to restore this gorgeous edifice. It was greatly needed, and was commenced in 1846. I do wish you could see this church and gaze upon its interior. I have obtained some fine drawings of parts of the edifice, and they will enable you to form some faint idea of the splendor of the whole. We have to dine with a friend, and I must close.

Yours affectionately,

J.O.C.

Letter 8.

BRISTOL.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

You have so often expressed a desire to see the fine cathedral churches and abbeys of the old world, that I shall not apologize for giving you an account of them; and as they are more in my way, I shall take them into my hands, and let the lads write you about other things. The next visit we took, after I wrote you last, was to the cathedral. This is of great antiquity. In 1148, a monastery was dedicated to St. Augustine.

This good man sent one Jordan as a missionary in 603, and here he labored faithfully and died. It seems, I think, well sustained that the venerable Austin himself preached here, and that his celebrated conference with the British clergy took place on College Green; and it is thought that the cathedral was built on its site to commemorate the event. The vicinity of the church is pleasing. The Fitzhardings, the founders of the Berkeley family, began the foundation of the abbey in 1140, and it was endowed and dedicated in 1148. The tomb of Sir Robert, the founder, lies at the east of the door, and is enclosed with rails.

Some of the buildings connected with the church are of great antiquity, and are probably quite as old as the body of the cathedral. A gateway leading to the cloisters and chapter-house is plainly Saxon, and is regarded as the finest Saxon archway in England. The western part of the cathedral was demolished by Henry VIII. The eastern part, which remains, has a fine Gothic choir. This was created a bishop's see by Henry VIII.

It is interesting to think that Secker, Butler, and Newton have all been bishops of this diocese, and Warburton, who wrote the Divine Legation of Moses, was once Dean of Bristol. The immortal Butler, who wrote the a.n.a.logy of Natural and Revealed Religion, lies buried here, and his tombstone is on the south aisle, at the entrance of the choir. A splendid monument has been erected to his memory, with the following inscription from the pen of Robert Southey, himself a Bristolian:--

Sacred to the Memory of JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L., twelve years Bishop of this Diocese, afterwards of Durham, whose mortal remains are here deposited. Others had established the historical and prophetical grounds of the Christian Religion, and that true testimony of Truth which is found in its perfect adaptation to the heart of man. It was reserved for him to develop its a.n.a.logy to the const.i.tution and course of Nature; and laying his strong foundations in the depth of that great argument, there to construct another and irrefragable proof; thus rendering Philosophy subservient to Faith, and finding in outward and visible things the type and evidence of those within the veil.

Born, A.D. 1693. Died, 1752.

We noticed a very fine monument by Bacon to the memory of Mrs. Draper, said to have been the Eliza of Sterne. We hastened to find the world-renowned tomb of Mrs. Mason, and to read the lines on marble of that inimitable epitaph, which has acquired a wider circulation than any other in the world. The lines were written by her husband, the Rev.

William Mason.

"Take, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear; Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave.

To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care Her faded form; she bowed to taste the wave, And died. Does youth, does beauty read the line?

Does sympathetic fear their b.r.e.a.s.t.s alarm?

Speak, dead Maria; breathe a strain divine; E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm.

Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee; Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move; And if so fair, from vanity as free, As firm in friendship, and as fond in love,-- Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die, (Twas e'en to thee,) yet, the dread path once trod, Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, And bids the pure in heart behold their G.o.d."

In the cloisters we saw the tomb of Bird the artist, a royal academician, and a native of Bristol. We were much interested with a n.o.ble bust of Robert Southey, the poet, which has just been erected in the north aisle. It stands on an octangular pedestal of gray marble, with Gothic panels. The bust is of the most exquisitely beautiful marble. The inscription is in German text.

Robert Southey, Born in Bristol, October 4, 1774; Died at Reswick, March 21, 1843.

[Ill.u.s.tration: Robert Southey]

The cloisters contain some fine old rooms, which recall the days of the Tudors. Here we saw the apartments formerly occupied by the learned and accomplished Dr. Hodges, now organist of Trinity Church, New York. This gentleman is a native of Bristol, and is held, we find, in respectful and affectionate remembrance by the best people of this city.

Opposite to the cathedral, and on the other side of the college green, is the Mayor's Chapel, where his honor attends divine service. In Catholic days, this was the Church and Hospital of the Virgin Mary. This edifice was built by one Maurice de Gaunt in the thirteenth century.

Under the tower at the east front is a small door, by which you enter the church, and on the north another, by which you enter a small room, formerly a confessional, with two arches in the walls for the priest and the penitent. In this room are eight niches, in which images once stood.

The roof is vaulted with freestone, in the centre of which are two curious shields and many coats of arms. In 1830, this chapel was restored and beautified. A fine painted window was added, and the altar screen restored to its former beauty, at the expense of the corporation.

The front of the organ gallery is very rich in Gothic moulding, tracery, crockets, &c. It is flanked at the angles with octagonal turrets, of singular beauty, embattled, and surmounted with canopies, crockets, &c.

The spandrils, quatrefoils, b.u.t.tresses, sculptures, and cornices are exceedingly admired. The pulpit is of stone, and the mayor's throne, of carved oak, is of elaborate finish. Here are two knights in armor, with their right hands on their sword hilts, on the left their shields, _with their legs crossed,_ which indicates that they were crusaders.

In every excursion around Bristol, the boys were struck with the fact that an old tower was visible on a high hill. The hill is called Dundry, and it is said that it can be seen every where for a circle of five miles round the city. Dundry is five miles from Bristol, and fourteen from Bath, and it commands the most beautiful and extensive prospect in the west of England. We rode out to it with an early friend of mine, who is now the leading medical man of Bristol; and when I tell you that we went in an Irish jaunting car, you may guess that we were amused. The seats are at the sides, and George was in ecstasies at the novelty of the vehicle. When oh the summit, we saw at the north and east the cities of Bath and Bristol, and our view included the hills of Wiltshire, and the Malvern Hills of Worcestershire. The Severn, from north to west, is seen, embracing the Welsh coast, and beyond are the far-famed mountains of Wales. The church has a fine tower, with turreted pinnacles fifteen feet above the battlements. We rode over to Chew Magna, a village two miles beyond Dundry. Here I went to a boarding school thirty-eight years ago, and I returned to the village for the first time. It had altered but little. The streets seemed narrower; but there was the old tower where I had played fives, and there was the cottage where I bought fruit; and when I entered it, Charley, I found "young Mr. Batt"-a man of eighty-six. His father used to be "old Mr. Batt," and he always called his son his "boy," and we boys termed him "young Mr. Batt." I came back and found him eighty-six. So do years fly away. I called on one old school-fellow, some years my junior. He did not recognize me, but I at once remembered him. We partook of a lunch at his house. I was sadly disappointed to find the old boarding school gone, but was not a little relieved when I heard that it had given place to a Baptist church. I confess I should have liked to occupy its pulpit for one Sabbath day.

To-morrow we are to spend at Clifton, the beautiful environ of Bristol, and shall most likely write you again.

Yours affectionately,

J.O.C.

Letter 9.

BRISTOL.