I have to see my tailor, Mr. Woodman, who is a capital one; and then I

must go to Forr, the boot-maker, of whom let me tell you a story. The

doctor went to be measured, when we first arrived, and the man told him

it was not necessary, as he had his measure. "How so?" he inquired.

"Why, sir," replied the man, "I remember you fifteen years ago, at the

Hotel Windsor;" and taking down his book, showed him his name, number of

his room, &c. This I think a pretty considerable proof of memory, and

equal to what we are told of some of our American landlords, who are

said never to forget a face.

These engagements discharged, and I am ready to pack up. We all feel sad

at leaving George, who has been a kind and amiable companion; but we

hope soon to see him again.

Let me tell you that we are to have a new teacher. Dr. C. has engaged M.

Oudin, a graduate of the University of Paris, to return with us. This

gentleman is married; and we are all pleased with him and expect, of

course, to profit under his instructions.

M. Oudin has taken us to see a very curious manufactory of fruits,

fishes, &c. They certainly are lifelike. Then, too, there is a branch

of this establishment devoted to the preparation of medical

representations of disease, and the skill exhibited is very great. Our

next letter will, I fancy, be from Old England. I feel sad at leaving

France, for I do like her capital; and then I cannot help a fear that

she has dark days not very far off. She talks of liberty at all her

corners, but she seems to have none in her conduct of the daily press.

There are too many soldiers here to please an American. At home we have

all the blessings of government, and do not see the machinery. We have

no soldiers to keep us moving along. I shall always think with pleasure

of our month in this city; and if I ever come again, I have work chalked

out for three months, at least.

Yours affectionately,

JAMES.

Letter 50.

LONDON.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

We had a pleasant time from Paris to Calais; and here we determined to

pass a day, and look at a city which has been so celebrated both in the

history of France and England. We put up at Quillac's. The population is

about thirteen thousand. The town is strongly fortified, and has very

few external attractions. The gate built by Richelieu in 1685, and

delineated by Hogarth, still stands. You know that England held this

town from 1347 to 1558; and, as a result, you can find several specimens

of English Tudor architecture, especially the Hotel de Guise. The walks

upon the fortifications are fine, and afford commanding views of the

cliffs of the south coast of England. The place generally has some three

or four thousand English, many of whom are refugees on account of debt.

At eleven at night we went on board a French steamer for Dover; and the

_instant_ that she got outside the pier, she jumped like a mad thing. O,

Charley, that was a horrid night! We were all sick, very sick indeed. It

took us about three hours to get over, and we were thankful to land and

take refuge for three or four hours in the quiet of our bedrooms. At

eight we took the cars for London, and were at the Golden Cross, quietly

settled down in our old quarters, by twelve o'clock. I ought to tell you

that we hurried over in order to be here at the great entertainment

which Mr. George Peabody gives to his excellency Abbott Lawrence and his

lady, on the evening of the 4th of July. We were invited, and felt

anxious to be there; as, in addition to the other notable characters,

"the duke" was to be present. All that day the subject of the evening

was the great topic with Americans; and as more than nine hundred

acceptances were received to invitations issued, it was expected that

the party would be interesting, and that many, who failed to obtain

tickets, would be disappointed. The entertainment was given at Almack's,

Willis's Room, St. James's, and upon a scale of great magnificence. It

consisted of a concert at half past nine, a ball at eleven, and supper

at one. The idea of celebrating our national independence in London,

under the peculiar circumstances which London presents at this moment,

was a happy one; and though some wise men doubted the wisdom of the

measure, yet the result proved the prudence and practical good sense of

its originator; and perhaps few men possess more of this admirable

quality than Mr. Peabody. The rooms at Almack's are very spacious, so

that there was ample space for the one thousand who proved to be

present. At one end of the room were seen the portraits of the queen and

Washington, surrounded by the flags of England and the United States;

and around were placed busts of her majesty, Washington, Prince Albert,

Franklin, Webster, and other celebrated men of both countries. Each lady

was presented, on her entrance, with a fine bouquet. At half past nine

the seats for the concert were entirely filled. The _programme de

concert_ was as follows:--

CONDUCTOR, SIGNOR ALARY.

PARTE PRIMA.

GLEE, Messrs. Lee, Geuge, Hill, Smith, and Howe.

DUO, "Al perigli." {Signor Gardoni, }

{Signor F. Lablache,} _Donizetti_.

SOLO, Violin. Signor Sivori, _Sivori_.

MELODIE, "Jusqu'a toi." Signor Gardoni _Schubert_.

ARIA, "Non piu audrai." Signor Lablache, _Mozart_.

ROMANCE, "Ah, mon fils." Miss C. Hayes, _Meyerbeer_.

DUO, "Ah t inebria nell' {Ma'mselle Cruvelli,}

amplesso." {Signor Gardoni, } _Verdi_.

PARTE SECUNDA.

TRIO, "Qual volutta." {Miss Hayes, }

{Signor Gardoni, }

{Signor Lablache,} _Verdi_.

ARIA, "Nel dolce incanto." Mademoiselle Cruveli _De Beriot_.

SOLO, Violin. Signor Sivori, _Sivori_.

SERENADE, "Qual Suon." {Miss C. Hayes, }

{Signor Gardoni,} _Alary_.

DUO, "Un Segreta." {Signor Lablache,}

{F. Lablache,} _Rossini_.

TRIO, "Zitti, Zitti." {Miss C. Hayes, }

{Signor Gardoni, }

{Signor Lablache,} _Rossini_.

PIANO FORTE, Signor Alary.

The glees and madrigals were by the first-named artists; and the pieces

were, "Spring's Delight," "Come, let us join the Roundelay," "Foresters

sound the cheerful Horn," and "The Winds whistle cold."

The band for the ball was Coote & Tinney's. The concert was very fine. I

was most pleased with Miss Hayes,--and next with Lablache, whose voice

is the finest I ever heard. The duke came just at the close of the

concert, as the seats were being removed for the dancing. Mr. Peabody

met him in the reception-room, and led him to the upper end of the

ball-room, where he was cordially greeted by Mr. and Mrs. Lawrence. The

band struck up, "See, the conquering hero comes," and I really felt that

such a reception to such a man, and under such circumstances, was

something for an American boy to see; and, if I live thirty or forty

years, it will be something to tell about. There were but few

comparatively who danced. The company were in groups, in the different

rooms, taking refreshments. At one, supper was announced on the ground

floor of the house; and here the press was felt to be greater than up

stairs. The tables were most gorgeously laid out with every delicacy

that unlimited outlay of expense could secure. Perhaps you would like to

know some of the company who were present, belonging to England, and who

certainly were present for the first time to celebrate the anniversary

of American independence. There were the Duke of Wellington, Marquises

of Ely and Clanricarde, Lord Glenelg, Lord Charles Manners, Lord Charles

Russell, Lord Mayor of London and Lady Mayoress, Viscount Canning, Lord

and Lady Dormer, Lord Hill, Lord Stuart, Baron and Lady Alderson, the

Chancellor of the Exchequer, and Lady Mary Wood; Mr. Justice and Lady

Coleridge, the Governor of the Bank of England, Joseph Hume, M.P., and

family, Lady Morgan, Miss Burdett Coutts, Admiral Watkins, the Countess

of Eglinton, Countess Powlett, Lady Talbot Mala hide, and a very long

_et cetera_. Mr. Peabody could not have served his country better than

by affording an opportunity for the great and distinguished of England

to meet a large party of his countrymen on an occasion dear to

Americans, and especially dear when they are far away from their

country, and feel that, under the broad flag of the stars and stripes

they are every where as safe as if they were in New York or Boston. It

was very clear that hostile feeling had ceased, and that the great

Anglo-Saxon family can now meet any where and display the brotherhood

which they ought ever to feel. Such a meeting could not have taken place

twenty years ago; and perhaps this beautiful demonstration would never

have been afforded, if the thought had not presented itself to our host,

who had the means to carry out the idea with a nobleness that did honor

to himself and his country. We left the rooms on a bright, starlight

morning, just as day was opening her eye, and were soon comfortably

housed at our pleasant home. I write in haste, for we have much to do

before we leave London.

Yours affectionately,

JAMES.

Letter 51.

LONDON.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

We have had one of the most agreeable days that I have spent in England.

We received a kind invitation from his excellency Baron Vanderweyer, the

Belgian minister, to attend a party given by his lady to the young

nobility. The invitations were for five o'clock. We found the finest

collection of children and young people, from about four years old up to

sixteen, that I ever saw gathered together. I should think there were

two hundred and fifty. More beautiful children cannot probably be found;

and they were dressed in fine taste, and some very richly. One little

fellow, about six years old, was, I think, the noblest-looking boy my

eyes ever rested upon. Dr. C. inquired of two or three persons whom he

knew, who the lad was; and just then an elegant and fashionable-looking

lady expressed how much she felt flattered by the kind things said of

the little fellow, and told him that it was her son, the eldest son of

the Marquis of O----d, and then called him out of the dance, and

introduced the little Lord Ossory to him. Among the illustrious

juveniles was the future Duke of Wellington, and grandson of the Iron

Duke. He is now about four or five years old. I think the sight was one

of the prettiest I ever had the pleasure to witness. A few of the

parents and older friends of the children were present; and in the

company was Mr. Bates, whose kindness to us has been very great.

One evening this week Dr. Choules preached at Craven Chapel, near Regent

Street, where he had been requested to speak about America, and he took

up Education--the voluntary principle--and Slavery. On the last topic he

gave some truths that were probably very unpalatable. He stated that the

good people here knew next to nothing of the subject; that its treatment

amongst us could not be suffered by strangers; and that all interference

with it by this nation was as impolitic, and in as bad taste, as it

would be for an American to visit England and commence a crusade against

the expenditures of the royal household, as a crying sin, while there

was misery among the masses in many parts of the kingdom. He spoke of

the extreme prejudice which he had met upon the subject, and the

rudeness's into which he had found men fall, who seemed to have

forgotten every courtesy of life. He gave them many facts, which, though

perfectly correct, yet he said he supposed would be interpreted as a

special plea on behalf of slavery--although nothing could be more

untrue. The prejudice existing here is amusing. They seem to take it for

granted that every American raises cotton, sugar, and tobacco, and,

therefore, is a slaveholder. However, I find most persons of candor

ready to acknowledge that it is questionable whether any good can

possibly result from sending English agents to agitate the slavery

question in the United States.

There are a great many things which we have seen in London that are less

worthy of note than those we have written you about, and yet in

themselves are very useful and interesting; and we hope the remembrance

of them will be of service to us hereafter. I have been much struck with

the prevalence of the same names in the streets as those which are so

familiar to me on our signs and boards. We have most clearly a common

origin, and there are no two nations in the world between whom there is

of necessity so much sympathy on all great questions.

We have visited the exhibition several times since our return, with

fresh pleasure on every occasion. In point of show and splendor, we are

doing little in competition with the English, French and Belgian

exhibitors; but we have a wonderful deal here that proves Jonathan to be

a smart chap at invention, and no slouch at labor-saving operations. We

cannot afford to spend the labor of freemen, who own their houses and

farms and gardens, upon single pieces of furniture that would take six

months to complete. Our time is too valuable for this. The pauper labor

of Europe will, I hope, long continue to be cheaper, than the toil of

American mechanics. I do not want to see a man working for thirty cents

a day. The people of England must laugh in their sleeves when they see

every steamer bringing out our specie from America, and when they see us

sacrificing our true interests to aid the destructive policy of free

trade. I have never thought so much about the tariff as since I have

been here, and I am now convinced that we ought to give suitable

encouragement to all kinds of manufactures in our country, and so afford

a regular market for the products of the agriculturist. The English

agents that flood our country are placing the land under a constant

drain; and our specie must go abroad, instead of circulating at home. It

is only in times of great scarcity that England will want much of our

wheat or corn; and the English very freely avow that they hope to be

able, ere long, to get their cotton from the East. It seems to me that

our Southern States will need their New England constant market, and

that our true policy is to take care of ourselves. Certainly there is a

great variety of opinion here about free trade, and I hear gentlemen

debate strongly against it. The reciprocity of England is a queer thing.

All this yarn, Charley, grows naturally out of my starting-point about

the exhibition.

We go to-night to Bristol, to visit our kind friends once more; thence

we run into South Wales, and afterwards set our faces homeward.

Yours, &c.,

WELD.

Letter 52.

BRISTOL

DEAR CHARLEY:--

We have been here with the doctor's friends for several days, and had a

most delightful time. Nothing can be more kind than their attentions to

us; and the young men--I wish you knew them--have been constantly doing

every thing in their power to make our visit here agreeable.

We were glad to find Mr. W---- recovering from his accident; and as the

family were at Western Super Mare, a watering-place about seven miles

off, for his health, we went and passed a couple of days with them. This

place is on the banks of the Bristol Channel; the air is thought to be

the finest on the western coast of England, and is, we thought, very

much like our Newport air. When the tide is in the scenery is pretty,

and the Welsh hills; at sunset are beautiful. Off in the Bristol Channel

are two islands, called the Flat and Steep Holmes.

The houses here are neat, and the best are lodging-houses. Some of the

rows are very pretty, and are sufficiently cosy to accommodate small

families.

The true way to enjoy the seaside is to have your own snug quarters.

Here the people are wise enough to build close to the sea, and rows of

houses are found all round the bay.

We had a charming ride to a lofty hill, about two miles off, and the

prospect was very fine.

Here, as on the continent, we found large numbers of donkeys, with

drivers, and ladies use them in their little excursions; and many of

them are attached to Bath chairs, a small gig, and a very comfortable

conveyance, too, as we proved. The vehicle is made for one person.

I cannot say much for the bathing, which is greatly admired here, but

was far too muddy for our taste, after an acquaintance with the noble

beach at home.

The museum of the Baptist College in Bristol is very fine, and the

library is large and one of great value. The collection of Bibles is the

best in the kingdom, and here is the only copy of Tindal's New

Testament. The miniature of Oliver Cromwell, by Cooper, is valuable, and

has been often engraved.

We have several times attended worship at a very beautiful Gothic chapel

at Bristol, called Highbury Chapel. It is a perfect gem, built in the

Gothic style of the fifteenth century. The edifice is of stone, the

roof and wood-work of oak, the pulpit freestone, and over it is a fine

painted window. It is one of the prettiest churches we have seen in

England; and what gives great interest to the building is the fact that

it stands upon the spot where five martyrs were burnt, in the days of

Popery, when Queen Mary was on the throne. This burning of Protestants

only happens when Catholics have power; they do not advocate the measure

in America, although their boast is that their system knows no change.

Inquisitions and martyrs' fires are the adult growth of Popery. If I

wanted to know how liberal institutions worked, I would look at them

where they were established and flourished without hinderance; and if I

wanted to know what Popery is, I would go and look at it in its proper

territories--Spain, Italy, and Austria. There Popery is intolerant. In

France the wings of Romanism are clipped; and if the patronage of the

state were withdrawn, as very likely it may before long, the crumbling

edifice would fall.

The Rev. Mr. Thomas, the pastor of Highbury Chapel, is a man of superior

intellect, and we heard a very fine sermon from him.

I never was in a place where there are so many local charities as I find

at Bristol. Every ailment of man seems here to be provided with its

needed cure; and as for orphan asylums and refuges for the aged, blind,

strangers, &c., they are every where to be found. The Infirmary is a

noble institution, and always has two hundred patients in the wards; two

thousand were received last year, and eight thousand out-door cases

received treatment. A refuge for the houseless poor, opened in winter at

eight o'clock, and supported by subscription, has been very useful. I

think there are at least thirty different almshouses for the aged and

indigent of both sexes; and some of these places are as neat as any

thing can be, as to their accommodation.

We like Bristol--its fine old houses, its streets, that tell so plainly

of other days, its beautiful environs, and its generous citizens. I wish

you could see the prospect from the drawing-room window at a house where

we have often visited, and always with pleasure. The house stands on a

very high hill; the drawing-room has a large bay window, and outside a

balcony. You look down into a charming garden, with fine trees and

fountains,--the ground being on a great declivity, I should think a

slope of fifty degrees,--and then from the balcony you have the entire

city laid out before you, down, down in the valley; while before you,

and on either hand, stretch away the hills which adorn this noble city.

The towers and steeples of the glorious old churches make the prospect,

of a fine, clear summer evening, one never to be forgotten. Go where I

may, that room, and the kind faces of those who meet in it will often

rise in memory.

I have never had my feelings so enlisted by strangers as at Bristol; and

we all feel quite at home here.

We are to go off to-morrow on an excursion to Monmouthshire, and see

Chepstow, Tintern Abbey, and Ragland Castle, and expect that this last

of our wanderings will be very gratifying.

I have not told you how much we have enjoyed the fruit in England and on

the continent. Cherries and strawberries have been daily on our tables,

and of the best kinds. I do not think we ever enjoyed a fruit season so

much as this summer. In this humid climate the strawberry grows to an

immense size; and the gooseberry, which is here in high favor, is a far

finer fruit than with us.

Yours affectionately,

JAMES.

Letter 53.

BRISTOL.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

Let me tell you of a charming trip which we have had this week to

Chepstow Castle and its neighborhood. We have told you all about the

beautiful scenery of Clifton, and the Hot Wells at this place, and the

fine old rooks. Well, now we took passage in a little steamer, and went

down the Avon between these lofty rocks, and had a new and enlarged view

of this wondrous formation. The boat was well filled with tourists, as

this is a fashionable trip. The Avon for four miles is quite Rhenish in

its aspect; and one or two old castled towers on its crags afford a sort

of reminiscence of what we lately saw on the river of rivers.

We soon got out of the Avon into King Road, and there met the tide

setting strongly from the Severn--a large river, which divides

Monmouthshire from Gloucestershire. We then stretched across the

estuary, and were in the Wye--one of the most romantic rivers in the

country, the scenery of which will occupy much of this letter.

After going up the river a little way, we saw a town upon the left bank

and a noble castle. This is Chepstow. It is finely ensconced in a

hollow. The town is irregular, and depends for its prosperity on its

commerce. The castle is really a noble ruin and crowns a high bluff

which rises from the river. I do not know how any one can ask for a

lovelier landscape than is opened to the view off the bridge which spans

the river.

The castle was built by a relation of William the Conqueror. Its style

is Norman, with more modern additions. The tide rises here to an

elevation of from fifty to sixty feet. This is owing to rooks which

stretch into the Severn near the mouth of the Wye, and, by hindering the

tide, turn it into this small river.

On landing, we engaged a carriage and pair of horses for the excursion,

and were soon off. We stopped for lunch at St. Arvan's, a village one

mile off, and a beautiful place it is--a perfect gem of a country

street. But the glorious scenery of the region calls off attention from

the modest hamlet. How I should like, as in my boyish days, to make

head-quarters here for a week, and then strike out for daily

explorations.

We passed by the fine mansion at Piercefield, and devoted our time to

the glorious points of natural scenery on the banks of this most

charming stream--for Americans can hardly call it a river. We walked now

about two miles through an oak wood, in which is a sprinkling of ash and

elm, till we came to the very edge of a cliff called the "Lover's Leap."

It overhangs an awful abyss, the depth of which is softened down by the

woods which cover the neighboring rooks. A little off from this we came

to the famous Wynd Cliff. Its summit is fringed with wood, and covers

its declivities down to the river. To describe the scenery, my dear boy,

from this spot, is quite beyond my ability. I wish that Sir Walter Scott

had attempted it, and made this region the scene of one of his

beautiful creations. From this spot you see all the course of the Wye,

with its numerous sinuosities--in one place cutting out a few acres into

a horse-shoe peninsula. As the eye follows down the river, you gaze on

perpendicular, rocky cliffs, and can hardly persuade yourself that you

do not look at the immense fortifications of a town. But that peaceful

little peninsula at my feet; it is called Llanicut. Such a farm! such

elms! all forming a landscape unrivalled. But look beyond the Wye, and,

just away there, is the noble Severn. Ay, that is a river. There it

rolls and foams down through the rich county of Gloucestershire, and

empties into the Bristol Channel. Then away, beyond to the right are the

bold, swelling hills of Somersetshire. I cannot but wish that Claude had

seen the Wye and Severn; the noblest of his pictures would have been

illustrative of this region.

When we had sufficiently delighted ourselves with the far-spread scene,

we descended by a winding path through the woods and down the almost

perpendicular rock. The road was a very zigzag. We came down three

hundred and sixty steps, and, passing a rustic bridge, entered a moss

cottage, the small windows of painted glass, the table the base of a

mighty oak, sawn off and polished. The walls are lined with moss. Here

we got refreshments, and talked of those who had been here with us on

former visits--some in America, others farther off; and yet perhaps

not; for we know not how, or where, some of our best friends exist; but

we know and feel that they do greatly live.

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