“LONDON,” said the Hon. Tom Dashall to his Cousin, “abounds with so much of munificence, that notwithstanding all its intricacies and inconveniences, he who travels through life without visiting it, may justly be said to know nothing; for it is all Life, its remotest corners are full of animation, and although it is difficult to fancy how all live, there are few but could give some satisfactory information if they chose, though I am willing to believe many would rather wish to avoid interrogation. We have already explored some parts of it, but be assured there is still much to admire, much to applaud, and much to deprecate. Our researches, after all, have been rather confined than extensive. It is such an ever varying and never ceasing mine of observation, that it is almost like the wishing cap of Fortunatus, with this exception, that although every wish may be supplied, it requires something more than putting on the cap to obtain the object desired.”

“From what I have already seen,” replied Tallyho, “I perfectly coincide with you in the latter part of your observation, for I have no doubt but perseverance and integrity, with some portion of ability, is sure to meet reward.”

“You are right,” continued Tom; “many instances could be pointed out in proof of the justice of that remark: some of the greatest men of the present day have rose from the lowest origin. Shop-boys and porters have become tradesmen and merchants; shoe-blacks have become statesmen, and servants councillors. But on the other hand, many who have been born, as the old saying is, 'with a silver spoon in their mouths,' have 'fallen from their high estates,' and lingered out the latter parts of their lives in prisons or work-houses, laying the blame on fate, rather than attributing failure to their own want of ability, prudence, or active exertion. But come, I perceive the curricle is ready; let us take a spank through the City, and look a little more minutely at the mercantile world.”

This call was instantly obeyed by Tallyho, who never doubted but his Cousin had some object in view, though he frequently started from Piccadilly without being previously acquainted with it.

Passing out at Hyde Park Corner, Bon remarked that he thought the City lay the other way.

“Never mind,” replied Dashall, “we shall come to the point without doubt. Why, man, there are more ways than one, and I am not particularly partial to being blocked up in the public streets, amidst knowing jarveys and cramp carmen, sugar hogsheads, molasses, and slush carts, which is so frequently the case, when by a slight deviation from the direct way, we can give the tits a rattler on a good road without obstruction, and pocket a handful of time into the bargain.”

He now turned into the road which leads directly to Vauxhall Bridge; on arriving at which, Tallyho was much delighted with an extensive view of the Thames.

“This,” said Dashall, “will bring us to a favourite place of amusement, where you have already cut a conspicuous figure.”

“What do you mean?” enquired his Cousin.

“A masquerade,” replied he significantly. “Go along Bob.”

Passing gently over the Bridge, “Do you observe,” continued he, “that extensive building? That is called the Penitentiary. It is a building designed for the punishment, employment, and reformation of offenders of secondary turpitude, usually punished by transportation for a term of years. It has been conceived since the commencement of the disputes which terminated in the separation of the American States. The plan of it is known to be partly that of Mr. Jeremy Bentham. The culprits are confined in circular buildings, the windows of which are so constructed, that the overseer from his room in the centre may be able to view every one of their rooms. The external wall encloses no less than eighteen acres of ground, within which are six of these circular buildings, each capable of lodging and employing from 150 to 200 prisoners, with a chapel, infirmary, and other conveniences. Its situation is called Millbank.”

“It looks,” said Bob, “like a castle, or tower, of impregnable strength.”

“It is, however,” continued Tom, “a useful institution, since it supersedes that indiscriminate transportation so long practised, and which, as applied to definite periods, was cruel and unjust, since the wretched objects were precluded from the power of ever returning to their native land, however short the intended period of their banishment. This part of the world is much improved of late years. The Bridge we are now passing, is an admirable light and elegant structure, but recently erected, according to the plan of Mr. J. Walker, and connects, as you perceive, by a straight line of road with Hyde Park Corner. The road before us leads to Newington Cross, and thence by various ways to the City. The Bridge consists of nine arches, of equal span, in squares of cast iron, on piers of rusticated stone formed of fragments, united by means of Parker's cement. Its width is 809 feet, the span of the arches 78 feet, the height 29 feet, and the clear breadth of the road way is 36 feet. It cost above 300,000L. But we shall shortly cross another bridge, far surpassing it in point of magnificence.”

“It is wonderful indeed,” said Bob, “that in a country complaining of a starving population, such serious sums of money should be expended in the erection of splendid mansions and magnificent bridges.”

“Not at all,” was the reply, “for perhaps it is one of the best ways of expending, as it gives employment to thousands who would otherwise have become beggars on private charity, or paupers on public bounty, either of which is revolting to the mind of an Englishman: besides, if your observation applied at all, it would cut at every improvement of the day; and you should recollect, that, whether upon true foundations or not, every generation think the age they live in is the most enlightened: so it may be with respect to the preceding, and indeed, so much so, that the succeeding will rather decline than improve upon it, but it would be difficult to convince them of the fact. It is certain, however, that scarcely a day passes but some new invention or improvement is offered to public notice. The perusal of the newspapers is an evidence of my assertion; and as London is the centre of attraction, so it is the seat of knowledge, of science and information.”

“I should judge, that if a person who had lived some two hundred years ago, even in this wild place, were to rise up amongst us, his surprise and astonishment would be strongly excited,” said Bob, endeavouring to draw forth more of his observations as they bowled along the road.

“There can be no question on that subject,” said Tom, “for how would the high ideas he entertained of the ingenuity of the age in which he had lived, dwindle into nothing! Nay, should he appear in the country first, what would he think of the various implements of husbandry, for ploughing, and preparing the land; the different machines for sowing the corn, for threshing, grinding, and dressing it; and in numerous instances (though perhaps not quite so much now as it has been, on account of the present agricultural distresses) he would find something else too which he might not consider an improvement: instead of meeting the honest homely farmer, assisting personally in the gathering in his crops, and his daughter following the cart with a rake, he would find the former mounted on his Prad following the hounds, and the latter at boarding school. Instead of the farmer's son bringing home his cows of an evening, and his sister going out to meet him at the sound of his well known voice, with her milk-white pail, he would find the one poring over Latin and Greek, and the other running her fingers over the chords of a harp or piano-forte.”

“These,” said Bob, “are refinements in manners at least.”

“Then, should he take a peep at London, as we are now doing, he would be struck dumb with admiration. But here we are on the Waterloo Road. That building on the right is the Coburg Theatre, so named in compliment to the Prince of Saxe Coburg, who married the unfortunate Princess Charlotte of Wales, the much regretted daughter of our present King. Before us is Waterloo Bridge, which leads to the Strand, and was originally denominated the Strand Bridge; it is acknowledged to be one of the most majestic structures of the kind, perhaps, in the known world, and was built under the direction of the late Mr. Rennie, to whose memory it is said a monument is intended to be erected. The Bridge consists of nine equal arches, and like the bridges of the ancients, is perfectly flat, which you perceive the road we are now travelling is not, for in some instances you may look over the wall upon another world below, as we are above the tops of the houses. Its being level is a circumstance highly favourable to the draught of carriages across it, and without any apparent subtraction from its beauty. We will alight here and walk leisurely across, taking time for remark.”

The servants now took charge of the curricle, with orders to wait at the corner of the Strand, while our heroes, having each deposited his penny at the toll-house, strolled forward.

Tallyho appeared delighted with the views around him: In the front, a fine prospect of one of the finest cities in the world, and behind an equally pleasing sight over the Surrey Hills. The day being fine, and the sun darting his refulgent beams on the bosom of the Thames, contributed to form, altogether, one of the most enraptured sights he had ever beheld. The passing and repassing of boats and barges below; and carriages, horsemen, and pedestrians, crossing the bridge, alternately attracted his attention.

“Each arch of this bridge,” said Dashall, “is 120 feet span; the piers 20 feet thick, with Tuscan columns; the width between the parapets 42 feet; these footpaths are seven feet each, and the road-way is 28 feet. The cost has been immense, and it is not likely that the original subscribers will ever realize the capital expended.”

At this moment the sound of music attracted the ears of Tallyho.

“What have we here?” said he, thrusting his head through the balustrades, by which he found himself almost suffocated with smoke, which stopped further enquiry.

“Behold,” said Tom, “another improvement of the age; that is the Richmond Steam Boat, proceeding with a cargo of live stock to that celebrated place of public resort, and, in spite of wind and weather, will return in the evening. They always have a band of music on board, for the amusement of their passengers.”

“Zounds,” said Bob, “they ought to have a smoke-consumer.”

“They had one just now,” replied Tom; “for I apprehend you assisted them in some degree, though not voluntarily.”

“You are smoking me,” said Bob.

“Never mind, you have only been puffing a cloud.”

“However, as the mist is dispelled,” said Tallyho, “and we have, a clear sky before us again, let us make use of our senses.”

“To the right you perceive Blackfriars' Bridge, and beyond that the Southwark Bridge. By the way, we were speaking of the alterations to be witnessed in a country life. We will now pursue the subject, and suppose for a moment our two-thousand-years-ago friend, after his visit among the Swains, inclined to transfer his observations to the Great Town. The first question would be, How shall I get there? Oh, there are plenty of night coaches, and day coaches too, Sir. Well, then “fancy him seated in a night coach, and having supped on the road, on resuming his corner of the vehicle, he falls into a sound sleep. Guess what must be his surprise on waking in the morning, to find himself in the bustle and apparent confusion of the streets of the Metropolis. But how altered! Wide streets and upright houses, instead of narrow lanes with houses meeting each other at the tops. Then what elegant shops!—He would exclaim, rubbing his eyes, 'Why, this is all a dream

“Proceeding from the heat-oppressed brain!”

'It cannot be reality!'—However, he swallows a hasty breakfast, and sallies out again to look about him. From London Bridge he espies the one I have just mentioned, the Southwark Bridge.—'What have we here?'—'Oh, Sir, that is the cast-iron bridge, with three arches, over the Thames.' He hastens to it, and when upon it, what must be his astonishment, at the power of the human mind to form, and of the human body to bring together, such immense pieces of iron? To connect Queen Street, Cheapside, with the Kent and Surrey Roads by three arches, the centre of which is 240 feet span, and the side ones 210 feet each, the arches all composed of cast iron, the piers and abutments of stone. 'Zounds,' he would exclaim, 'if the race of man dwindle in stature, they grow daily more stupendous in intellect! 'But we will suppose, like you, with an anxiety to see all that can be seen, he perceives a machine sailing down the river with astonishing velocity; ?Why, formerly,' said he, 'wind and tide against a vessel were insurmountable obstacles in its passage, but now they seem to add to its swiftness; how is this to be accounted for? '—'Easily enough,' replies a bye-stander; 'Lord bless you, it's all done by steam. Hot water and smoke do every thing now-a-days! Why there are a great number of machines, which formerly required from two to forty or more horses each to put and keep in motion, entirely worked by the steam arising from boiling water.'—' Prodigious! Steam do all that! Astonishing!'”

“And truly,” replied Bob, “notwithstanding I have witnessed many improvements, I confess I am astonished at the various uses to which this discovery has already been devoted, and the extraordinary powers it possesses.

“Well, we will pursue the train of thought a little further: Suppose, perambulating the streets till he is quite tired, and seeing alterations and changes out of number, he enters a Coffee House, eats a hearty meal, and taking a glass or two of wine, he falls into a musing train of ideas of the wonders he has been witnessing, from which he is not disturbed, till the hoarse voice of a Charley sounds in his ear, 'Past ten o'clock, and a cloudy night,' at which he hastily starts up, discharges his bill, and prepares, by buttoning up close and securing his trusty stick, for (as he would naturally expect) a dull dreary walk. He sallies out thus equipped, and, to his utter astonishment, finds the streets as busy as in the middle of the day, and almost as light. He steps up to one of the lights to examine it—'What can this be? It is not oil, there is no vessel to contain it; surely this can't be steam also! But what can it be?'—'Gas, Sir,' says a passenger, who overhears the question, 'Gas; it is produced from coals set on fire and confined in a furnace, the subtle vapour from which is conveyed by means of pipes, and, light applied to it, immediately bursts into a flame.' His astonishment would now be complete, and if he did sleep after, it would be difficult to persuade him it was not all a dream.”

By this time they had crossed the Bridge, and having regained the curricle, the Hon. Tom Dashall tickled the tits in prime style along the Strand, in the road to the City. Soon after passing Temple Bar, they were attracted by a vast concourse of persons surrounding the shop of Mr. Carlile,{1} from whence upon enquiry they learnt the

officers of the Police had just taken one of the shopmen in custody, for vending an alleged seditious or treasonable publication, upon the information of a Yeoman in the pay of the Bridge Street Gang. The crowd of persons induced our friends to make a little further enquiry into the cause, who were soon informed, that in consequence of the repeated attempts to stop the issue of books and pamphlets sold, at what is denominated the Temple of Reason, a part of the shop had been boarded off, so as completely to screen the venders of any publication from the eye of the purchaser, and by this means to render abortive all future attempts to identify any supposed offender.

“Why,” said Dashall, “it is an old saying, and I believe a very true one, If you tread upon a worm it will turn. Such appears to be exemplified in the case of this man. You have also heard me remark, that in London it signifies little by what means a man obtains popularity, and here is a case exactly in point. An extensive body of rich men have combined their efforts to crush an individual of little importance in the world, and who perhaps would before this have been forgotten, but for their indiscreet interference with his pursuits. They are now not only foiled in their endeavours to obtain fresh exercise for their Yeomen, and more work for their Lawyers, but, in consequence of their determined opposition, the world is likely to be deluged with every obnoxious publication, without any chance of detecting the sellers.”

“It is a curious manouvre,” said Tallyho.

“Yes, and it appears to have the desired effect with the Carliles and their adherents. They carry on the war in ambuscade, and are selling, without fear, books and pamphlets, of which but for the Constitutional Committee, as they call themselves, perhaps half the world would have known nothing. Such, however, is frequently the effect of intemperate zeal, and these Gentlemen have blown into notoriety that which they intended to suppress, whether upon the substantial grounds of reason or propriety, I leave others to decide.”

Becoming now entangled in a double row of carriages, with little prospect of making further progress for some time, our friends resigned the curricle to the care of the servant, and proceeded on foot to the City Coffee House, Ludgate Hill, for refreshment.{1}

This Coffee House is much resorted to, and, in point of comfortable accommodation, is perhaps not surpassed by any in London.

Having regaled themselves, and looked over the leading papers of the day, they proceeded to inspect the interior of that noble edifice, the pride of the British empire, St. Paul's Cathedral.

“According to vulgar tradition,” said Dashall, “this church occupies the site of a Roman temple, which was consecrated to Diana; but the son of Sir Christopher Wren, in his Parentalia, controverts this opinion, and contends, that the first cathedral of the Episcopal see of London was built in the area, the seat of the Roman PrÆtorian camp, the precise spot on which the present church stands. It is supposed to have been destroyed in the general persecution under the emperor Dioclesian, to have been re-edified under Constantine, to have been demolished by the Pagan Saxons, and to have been restored in the seventh century, when the Saxons embraced Christianity. From this period it has been four times rebuilt, and at the great fire of London was totally destroyed.”

These remarks premised by Dashall for the information of his friend, they proceeded to view the several statues and funeral monuments, displayed with uniformity and executed with considerable taste, by which the interior of the church has been much improved in appearance.{1}

After having examined these stately and expressive mementos of mortality, the two visitors were asked by their attendant, whether they would pass to the stone and iron galleries outside of the church; but this, having so lately enjoyed the extensive prospect from the Monument, they declined, and proceeded at once to the Library, the first object to be seen in the ascent.

Our two visitors were very much pleased with this handsome room, which in its dimensions is about fifty feet by forty, having shelves of books to the top, with a gallery

running along the sides. The floor is of oak, consisting of 2376 small square pieces, and is not only curious for its being inlaid, without a nail or a peg to fasten the parts, but is very neat in the workmanship, and beautiful in its appearance. The principal things pointed out to a stranger, are several carved stone pillars, some Latin manuscripts, written by Monks 800 years ago, and an English manuscript illuminated, containing rules for the government of a convent, written in old English, about 500 years since, all in fine preservation.

The clock-work and the great bell were the next curiosities that attracted the attention of our visitants. On the latter, weighing 11,470lbs. the hammer of the clock strikes the hours. It was now noon, and the ponderous hammer put itself into motion, and slowly, yet with astounding impetus, struck the bell, and the reverberation tingled on the auricular organs of the two strangers with painful and stunning effect throughout the long protracted intimation of the hour; nor was it until a considerable time had elapsed, that their hearing recovered from the clanging agitation.{1}

They were now ushered into the Whispering Gallery, which is constructed on the very simple principle of an unbroken communication. It is 140 yards in circumference, and a stone seat runs round the gallery along the foot of the wall. On the side directly opposite to the entrance door, Dashall and his friend seated themselves, when the person who shewed the gallery whispered close to the door, at the distance of 140 feet, and yet they heard his voice seemingly at their ear. The shutting of the door resembled a clap of thunder. From this gallery, round the inner circle of which is an iron balustrade, the marble pavement of the church exhibits a beautiful appearance, and the paintings of the dome, which have greatly suffered by time, are thence seen to the greatest advantage.

The ascent to the ball is attended by some difficulty, and is not encountered by many. Our two visitants therefore declined its inspection. The interior diameter of the ball is six feet two inches, and will contain twelve persons.{1}

The best view of the metropolis is obtained, in a clear day, from the gallery at the foot of the lantern. The diminutive appearance of the passengers and other objects beneath is extremely amusing, and resembles the Elfin Panorama of the capital of Lilliput.

The calm serenity of the interior, the awful grandeur of the structure itself, and the reflections arising from the contemplation of monuments erected to the memory of departed worth, with the splendid achievements of heroic minds, formed a strange contrast to the scene which presented itself to their view on leaving this magnificent pile. The hurry, bustle, and confusion of the street, the noisy vociferations of coachmen, carmen, &c. burst upon their senses at a moment when the mind had been soothed by reflection, and the eye gratified with a sight which led imagination into futurity, before which the past and the present had appeared to evaporate. The Hon. Tom Dashall, however, was quickly recalled by observing his curricle so completely hemmed in between contending parties to obtain liberation at the corner of Paul's chain, as to afford but little chance of escape from its intricate situation for some time.

“Zounds,” said Tom, “we had better return and take a seat among the worthies within, for I have no idea of mounting the curricle, to sit and be quizzed.”

“Any chance,” said Bob, “is better than that; but at all events your man is able to take care of the carriage and cattle, and we are competent to the care of ourselves.”

“Well hinted,” replied Tom, “and it shall be acted upon.”

Thus saying, he made his way through the throng, and gave orders for the curricle to proceed home as soon as it could be extricated from its present confinement. Then returning to his Cousin,

“It is not the first time I have been disappointed; I had made up my mind to proceed much farther; but the very scenes we have been inspecting are proofs of the inability of man to perform all his wishes, although equally' a proof of the splendid talents and determined valour of our renowned and deservedly remembered countrymen, and are well calculated to inspire us with patience, fortitude, and forbearance. At the other door we can escape from the bustle of this side; and perhaps the best thing we can do under existing circumstances, will be to speed homewards, and after dinner relax a little from our toils, in order to recruit for further activity.”

“Have with you,” said Bob; “we have enjoyed the first part of the day on a variety of interesting subjects, and after a cheerful and refreshing ride, have at last arrived at the threshold of eternity. We may as well escape for this time if we can, and cheat the grim tyrant of mankind. Although our ride has been a long one, our walk back is but short, so let us lose no time.”

In accordance with this recommendation, he caught hold of Dashall's arm, proceeded through the Cathedral, and arrived at Piccadilly without any thing remarkable or particular to record, where we shall for the present leave them to their enjoyments among the able writers with which Tom's bookcase was well stored.