London, Tuesday, May 6, 1851.

I have seen little yet of England, and do not choose to deal in generalities with regard to it until my ignorance has lost something of its density. Liverpool impressed me unfavorably, but I scarcely saw it. The working class seemed exceedingly ill dressed, stolid, abject and hopeless. Extortion and beggary appeared very prevalent. I must look over that city again if I have time.

We came up to London by the "Trent Valley Railroad," through Crewe, Rugby, Tamworth, &c., avoiding all the great towns and traversing (I am told) one of the finest Agricultural districts of England. The distance is two hundred miles. The Railroads we traveled in no place cross a road or street on its own level, but are invariably carried under or over each highway, no matter at what cost; the face of the country is generally level; hills are visible at intervals, but nothing fairly entitled to the designation of mountain. I was assured that very little of the land I saw could be bought for $300, while much of it is held at $500 or more per acre. Of course it is good land, well cultivated, and very productive. Vegetation was probably more advanced here than in Westchester Co. N. Y., or Morris Co. N. J., though not in every respect. I estimated that two-thirds of the land I saw was in Grass, one-sixth in Wheat, and the residue devoted to Gardens, Trees, Oats or Barley, &c. There are few or no forests, properly so called, but many copses, fringes and clumps of wood and shrubbery, which agreeably diversify the prospect as we are whirled rapidly along. Still, nearly all the wooded grounds I saw looked meager and scanty, as though trees grew less luxuriantly here than with us, or (more probably) the best are cut out and sold as fast as they arrive at maturity. Friends at home! I charge you to spare, preserve and cherish some portion of your primitive forests; for when these are cut away I apprehend they will not easily be replaced. A second growth of trees is better than none; but it cannot rival the unconscious magnificence and stately grace of the Red Man's lost hunting grounds, at least for many generations. Traversing this comparatively treeless region carried my thoughts back to the glorious magnificence and beauty of the still unscathed forests of Western New-York, Ohio, and a good part of Michigan, which I had long ago rejoiced in, but which I never before prized so highly. Some portions of these fast falling monuments of other days ought to be rescued by public forecast from the pioneer's, the woodman's merciless axe, and preserved for the admiration and enjoyment of future ages. Rochester, Buffalo, Erie, Cleveland, Toledo, Detroit, &c., should each purchase for preservation a tract of one to five hundred acres of the best forest land still accessible (say within ten miles of their respective centers), and gradually convert it into walks, drives, arbors, &c., for the recreation and solace of their citizens through all succeeding time. Should a portion be needed for cemetery or other utilitarian purposes, it may be set off when wanted; and ultimately a railroad will afford the poor the means of going thither and returning at a small expense. If something of this sort is ever to be done, it cannot be done too soon; for the forests are annually disappearing and the price of wood near our cities and business towns rapidly rising.

I meant to have remarked ere this the scarcity of Fruit throughout this region. I think there are fewer fruit-trees in sight on the two hundred miles of railway between Liverpool and London, than on the forty miles of Harlem Railroad directly north of White Plains. I presume from various indications that the Apple and Peach do not thrive here; and I judge that the English make less account of Fruit than we do, though we use it too sparingly and fitfully. If their climate is unfavorable to its abundant and perfect production, they have more excuse than we for their neglect of one of Heaven's choicest bounties.

The approach to London from the West by the Trent Valley Railroad is unlike anything else in my experience. Usually, your proximity to a great city is indicated by a succession of villages and hamlets which may be designated as more or less shabby miniatures of the metropolis they surround. The City maybe radiant with palaces, but its satellites are sure to be made up in good part of rookeries and hovels. But we were still passing through a highly cultivated and not over-peopled rural district, when lo! there gleamed on our sight an array of stately, graceful mansions, the seeming abodes of Art, Taste and Abundance; we doubted that this could be London; but in the course of a few moments some two or three miles of it rose upon the vision, and we could doubt no longer. Soon our road, which had avoided the costly contact as long as possible, took a shear to the right, and charged boldly upon this grand array of masonry, and in an instant we were passing under some blocks of stately edifices and between others like them. Some mile or two of this brought us to the "Euston-square Station," where our Railroad terminates, and we were in London. Of course, this is not "the City," specially so called, or ancient London, but a modern and well-built addition, distinguished as Camden-town. We were about three miles from the Bank, Post-Office, St. Paul's Church, &c., situated in the heart of the City proper, though nearer the East end of it.I shall not attempt to speak directly of London. The subject is too vast, and my knowledge of it too raw and scanty. I choose rather to give some account of an excursion I have made to the royal palace at Hampton Court, situated fifteen miles West of the City, where the Thames, which runs through the grounds adjacent, has shrunk to the size of the Mohawk at Schenectady, and I think even less. A very small steamboat sometimes runs up as high as this point, but not regularly, and for all practical purposes the navigation terminates at Richmond, four or five miles below.

Leaving the City by Temple Bar, you pass through the Strand, Charing Cross, the Haymarket, Pall Mall and part of Regent-street into Piccadilly, where you take an omnibus at "the White Horse Cellar" (I give these names because they will be familiar to many if not most American readers), and proceed down Piccadilly, passing St. James's Park on the left, Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens on the right, and so by Kensington Road to a fine suspension bridge over the Thames; you cross, and have passed westerly out of London. You traverse some two miles of very rich gardens, meadows, &c., and thence through the village of Barnes, composed mainly of some two or three hundred of the oldest, shabbiest tumble-down apologies for human habitations that I ever saw so close together. Thence you proceed through a rich, thoroughly cultivated garden district, containing several fine country seats, to Richmond, a smart, showy village ten miles above London, and a popular resort for holiday pleasure-seekers from the great city, whether by steamboat, railway, omnibus or private conveyance. Here is a fleet of rowboats kept for hire, while "the Star and Garter" inn has a wide reputation for dinners, and the scene from its second-story bow window is pronounced one of the finest in the kingdom. It certainly does not compare with that from the Catskill Mountain House and many others in our State, but it is a good thing in another way—a lovely blending of wood, water and sky, with gardens, edifices and other pleasing evidences of man's handiwork. Pope's residence at Twickenham, and Walpole's Strawberry Hill are near Richmond.

Proceeding, we drove through a portion of Bushy Park, the royal residence of the late Queen Dowager Adelaide, widow of William IV., who here manages, having house, grounds, &c. thrown in, to support existence on an allowance of only $500,000 a year. The Park is a noble one, about half covered with ancient, stately trees, among which large herds of tame, portly deer are seen quietly feeding. A mile or two further brought us to the grounds and palace of Hampton Court, the end and aim of our journey.

This palace was built by the famous Cardinal Wolsey, so long the proud, powerful, avaricious and corrupt favorite of Henry VIII. Wolsey commenced it in 1515. Being larger and more splendid than any royal palace then in being, its erection was played upon by rival courtiers to excite the King to envy and jealousy of his Premier—whereupon Wolsey gave it outright to the monarch, who gave him the manor of Richmond in requital. Wolsey's disgrace, downfall and death soon followed; but I leave their portrayal to Hume and Shakspeare. This palace became a favorite residence of Henry VIII. Edward VI. was born here; Queen Mary spent her honeymoon here, after her marriage with Philip of Spain; Queen Elizabeth held many great festivals here; James I. lived and Queen Anne his wife died here; Charles I. retired here first from the Plague, and afterwards to escape the just resentment of London in the time of the Great Rebellion. After his capture, he was imprisoned here. Cromwell saw one daughter married and another die during his residence in this palace. William III., Queen Anne, George I. and George II. occasionally resided here; but it has not been a regal residence since the death of the latter. Yet the grounds are still admirably kept; the shrubbery, park, fish-pond, &c. are quite attractive; while a famous grape-vine, 83 years old, bears some 1,100 pounds per annum of the choicest "Black Hamburghs," which are reserved for the royal table, and (being under glass) are said to keep fresh and sweet on the vine till February. A fine avenue of trees leads down to the Thames, and the grounds are gay with the flowers of the season. The Park is very large, and the location one of the healthiest in the kingdom.

Hampton Court Palace, though surrounded by guards and other appurtenances of Royalty, is only inhabited by decayed servants of the Court, impoverished and broken-down scions of the Aristocracy, &c. to whom the royal generosity proffers a subsistence within its walls. I suppose about two-thirds of it are thus occupied, while the residue is thrown open at certain hours to the public. I spent two hours in wandering through this portion, consisting of thirty-four rooms, mainly attractive by reason of the Paintings and other works of Art displayed on their walls. As a whole, the collection is by no means good, the best having been gradually abstracted to adorn those Palaces which Royalty still condescends to inhabit, while worse and worst are removed from those and deposited here; yet it was interesting to me to gaze at undoubted originals by Raphael, Titian, Poussin, Rembrandt, Teniers, Albert Durer, Leonardo da Vinci, Tintoretto, Kneller, Lely, &c., though not their master-pieces. The whole number of pictures, &c. here exhibited is something over One Thousand, probably five-sixths Portraits. Some of these have a strong Historical interest apart from their artistic merit. Loyola, Queen Elizabeth, Anne Boleyn, Admiral Benbow, William III., Mary Queen of Scots, Mary de Medicis, Louis XIV., are a few among scores of this character. The Cartoons of Raphael and some beautifully, richly stained glass windows are also to be seen. The bed-rooms of William III., Queen Anne, and I think other sovereigns, retain the beds as they were left; but little other furniture remains, the mirrors excepted. I think Americans who have a day to spare in London may spend it agreeably in visiting this Palace, especially as British Royal Residences and galleries are reputed not very accessible to common people. At this one, every reasonable facility is afforded, and no gratuities are solicited or expected by those in attendance. I should prefer a day for such a jaunt on which there are fewer squalls of hail, snow and rain than we encountered—which in May can hardly be deemed unreasonable—but if no better can be found, take such as may come and make the best of it. This Palace is a good deal larger on the ground than our Capitol—larger than the Astor House, but, being less lofty, contains (I should judge) fewer rooms than that capacious structure. It is built mainly of brick, and if it has great Architectural merits I fail to discern them.

Counsel to the Sea-going.

London, Tuesday, May 6th, 1851.

I desire to address a few words of advice to persons about to cross the Atlantic or any other ocean for the first time. I think those who follow my counsel will have reason to thank me.

I. Begin by providing yourself with a pair of stout, well-made thick boots—the coarser and firmer the better. Have them large enough to admit two pair of thick, warm stockings, yet sit easily on the feet. Put them on before you leave home, and never take them off during the voyage except when you turn in to sleep.

II. Take a good supply of flannels and old woolen clothes, and especially an overcoat that has seen service and is not afraid of seeing more. Should you come on board as if just out of a band-box, you will forget all your dandyism before your first turn of sea-sickness is over, and will go ashore with your clothes spoiled by the salt spray and your own careless lounging in all manner of places and positions. Put on nothing during the voyage that would sell for five dollars.

III. Endure your first day of sea-sickness in your berth; after that, if you cannot go on deck whenever the day is fair, get yourself carried there. You may be sick still—the chance is two to one that you will be; but if you are to recover at all while on the heaving surge this is the way.

IV. Move about as much as possible; think as little as you can of your sickness; but interest yourself in whatever (except vomiting) may be going forward—the run of the ship, the management of her sails, &c. &c. Keep clear of all sedentary games, as a general rule; they may help you to kill a few hours, but will increase your headache afterwards. Talk more than you read; and determine to walk smartly at least two hours every fair day, and one hour any how.

V. As to eating, you are safe against excess so long as you are sick; and if you have bad weather and a rough sea, that will be pretty nearly all the way. I couldn't advise you, though ever so well, to eat the regular four times per day; though my young friend who constantly took five hearty meals seemed to thrive on that regimen. In the matter of drink, if you can stick to water, do so; I could not, nor could I find any palatable substitute. Try Congress Water, Seidlitz, any thing to keep clear of Wines and Spirits. If there were some portable, healthful and palatable acid beverage devoid of Alcohol, it would be a blessed thing at sea.

VI. Finally, rise early if you can; be cheerful, obliging, and determined to see the sunny side of everything whereof a sunny side can be discovered or imagined; and bear ever in mind that each day is wearing off a good portion of the distance which withholds you from your destination. The best point of a voyage by steam is its brevity; wherefore, I pray you, Mr. Darius Davidson, to hurry up that new steamer or screamer that is to cross the Atlantic in a week. I shall want to be getting home next August or September.

VII. Don't bother yourself to procure British money at any such rate as $4.90 for sovereigns, which was ruling when I came away. Bring American coin rather than pay over $4.86. You can easily obtain British gold here in exchange for American, and I have heard of no higher rate than $4.87.

VIII. Whatever may be wise at other seasons, never think of stopping at a London hotel this summer unless you happen to own the Bank of England. If you know any one here who takes boarders or lets rooms at reasonable rates, go directly to him; if not, drive at once to the house of Mr. John Chapman, American Bookseller, 142 Strand, and he will either find you rooms or direct you to some one else who will.

IX. If the day of your embarkation be fair, take a long, earnest gaze at the sun, so that you will know him again when you return. They have something they call the sun over here which they show occasionally, but it looks more like a boiled turnip than it does like its American namesake. Yet they cheer us with the assurance that there will be real sunshine here by-and-by. So mote it be!