a half. Being yet sore with the exorbitant charges at Oxford, we were not prepared for new extortion. Our baggage was therefore left in charge of the landlord, while we set out on foot, to pass the remainder of the day and night at Windsor. On our way thither, a call was made at Eton School, which is situated upon the left bank of the Thames. It is an old two-story building, with broken windows, and in appearance little worthy of its celebrity. A glance was taken at the court, the grounds, the chapel, and some of the rooms ; but there is nothing in the exterior which can interest a stranger.

Crossing the river on a pretty bridge, we entered Windsor, and climbed the steep hill, on which the town is built, to the Castle. Here a guide took us in hand, and for eighteen pence each, showed us all the wonders which the Palace affords. He conducted us through a long suite of apartments, filled with beds, furniture, statues, and pictures, calling them all by name, and singing out his song, in the usual style of showmen, to a gaping crowd of spectators. State beds, crimson cushions, and galleries of family portraits had become an old story with us: besides, the favourite palace of his majesty is in all respects far inferior to the houses of many of his subjects. Neither the Castle itself, nor the furniture, will bear a comparison with the seats of several of the noblemen that had been examined.

Its location is extremely beautiful, being seated upon a rock elevated several hundred feet above the Thames, and commanding an extensive view of the meanders of the river, through the fertile meadows by which it is bordered. A single turn upon the terrace, constructed at an immense expense for a promenade in front of the Castle, and a peep into the green elysian vale stretching below, and enriched with all the luxuriance of nature, far surpasses in interest the assemblage of the works of art, which regal wealth has accumulated. So true it is, that in the dispensations of providence, those objects which are the sources of the purest and most lasting enjoyment are equally open to all-free as the air we breathe, the stream that refreshes, and the sun that warms. Give me the grandeur, the beauty, the simple magnificence of nature, and without a sigh I will leave to kings their thrones, palaces, and artificial luxuries.

After a delightful promenade upon the terrace, we went to the Chapel Royal, where the king attends public worship. It is a beautiful Gothic edifice, situated upon the declivity below the Castle. The lofty pillars, arches, and ceiling, as well as the decorations of the interior, are scarcely surpassed by any thing of the kind that has met our observation. It was brilliantly lighted up for evening prayers. The porter showed us into the seats of two of the noblemen, who were

both absentees. There are no striking peculiarities in the service, except the same sing-song in reading and responding, as was remarked at Lichfield. At the conclusion of the exercises, the choir chanted an anthem, extracted from Handel's Creation. A great number of voices, accompanied by a powerful organ, gave a fine effect to the music, the peals of which seemed almost sufficiently loud and animating to break the repose of the royal group, who sleep the sleep of death in the vault below.

It is a singular fact, that the sovereign and court of a nation, which professes to be ultra christian in its sentiments, and has been free in its censures upon other countries for an opposite tendency, should pay so little regard to the Sabbath. At Windsor, Sunday is the fashionable day both for business and amusement. The king sometimes attends church; but he generally selects the Sabbath for inspecting the public works which are going on for his accommodation, at an expense of several hundred thousand pounds-for reviewing military parades--for fishing in his favourite Virginia waters-and for giving splendid dinner parties. On this day the gates of the Palace are flung open, and crowds from London, as well as from the neighbouring country, rush in, to indulge in scenes of gaiety and pleasure, imitating the example of the court. While these practical violations of a sacred ordinance are sanctioned by the English, they certainly do not furnish just grounds for denouncing the religious creeds and customs of other nations.

It was our intention to have visited the Cottage, where his Majesty resides, at the distance of a few miles from Windsor, as also Virginia Water, whither he is fond of resorting in his "Pony Phaeton," for exercise, and to forget the cares of state, in the pleasures of angling. But a violent November storm, which beat all night against the windows of the White Hart, and had not entirely subsided by the next morning, changed our plans and determined us to set out for London as soon as possible, leaving the remainder of Windsor, the Forest, Twickenham, Richmond Hill, and the banks of the Thames between the Castle and the metropolis, to be traversed at a more favourable season. The rain compelled us to take places in the interior of the coach, which whirled us over a distance of twenty-one miles in less than three hours, affording little opportunity to look at Hounslow Heath and other places lying on this great avenue to London, the suburbs of which extend five or six miles towards Windsor.

LETTER XXXII.

SECOND VISIT TO LONDON-AMERICAN LIBRARY-COVENT GARDENDRURY LANE-STEAM-GUNS-LITERARY DINNER-RIDE TO DOVERDESCRIPTION OF THE TOWN AND CLIFFS-PASSAGE OF THE STRAITS.

November, 1825.

A RETURN to the little circle of our acquaintances in London, after an absence of several months, was not without its pleasures, suggesting to the mind a slight image of home. The literary rooms of Mr. Miller were calculated to deepen the impression; for besides the permanent decorations of his apartments, among which are busts of Washington and Franklin, the Declaration of Independence, and an extensive collection of American books, we here found files of papers from every part of our country, containing the body of the times since our departure. In sentiment and feeling, the proprietor of this extensive establishment is American; and his liberality has done more than that of any other individual to make the literary character of the United States better understood in England. Possessing a discriminating taste, he is in the habit of perusing such books as originate with us, and of selecting those that will bear a re-publication. He has generally been judicious and fortunate in his choice of the numerous productions which issue from the American Press; and to his efforts, rather than to any new era in our literary history, may be ascribed the increased estimation in which transatlantic works are now held. As such instances of liberality are yet sufficiently rare in Great-Britain, I take very great pleasure in commending the exertions of this gentleman to the favourable notice and patronage of my countrymen.

Our first object of attention, after reaching London, was to complete our pecuniary arrangements preparatory to a departure for the continent. This business was accomplished in the most satisfactory manner through the medium of a respectable house, who obtained for us letters of credit from Mr. Baring, affording us an opportunity of examining the establishment of that celebrated banker. His extensive pecuniary transactions are conducted with more system, ease, and security than any operations of the kind I have ever witnessed. Every clerk is at his post, and the room so silent, that one might hear a pin drop. The two brothers, who effected an accommodation agreeably to our wishes, added to their professional favours, others of a description which we had no right to expect. One of them took us again through the bank of England, the Exchange, and other mercantile

institutions, designating such objects as merited attention and explaining the methods of transacting business in the metropolis. He carried his politeness still farther by a cordial invitation to dine with him at his country seat, five or six miles from town.

One evening during our second visit to London was passed at Covent Garden Theatre, to see Kemble personate the character of Charles the Second, in the Merry Monarch. Expectations raised so high as ours had been, by the reputation of this actor, are seldom answered, and a single exhibition of his dramatic talents certainly left not a little disappointment. His person is good, but by no means commanding; and though his acting is chaste, it cannot be considered powerful. Some parts of his performance were tame, falling short of the spirit of the author. In my estimation Cooper is decidedly his superior-in person, port, voice, gesture, and diction. I could not perceive that his entries or exits were marked by any extraordinary applause of the audience. He is nevertheless a favourite with the public, and his histrionic merits are well established. The rest of the company acquitted themselves in a creditable manner; but Covent Garden on that night was as starless as the smoky canopy of London. The theatre itself is a magnificent building, finished much in the style of the Italian Opera House, with splendid furniture, decorations, and scenery.

On another evening we visited Drury-Lane, more for the sake of completing the rounds of the Theatres, than on account of any extraordinary attractions that the entertainment offered. It is by far the handsomest theatre in London, and probably one of the finest in the world. Its arches, pillars, and saloons, its crimson curtains and gilded decorations, resemble a palace rather than a play-house. A new piece, called "The Wager or Midnight Hour," was brought out. It is one of those high-wrought, showy, noisy dramas, depending more upon the eye than the ear for eclat, and better suited to draw forth the plaudits of the multitude than to stand the test of criticism. Neither the play itself, nor the awkwardness of a first representation, was calculated to afford a fair specimen of the talents of the actors—at least I should be sorry to think so. Dowton personated an old man to some advantage; and Miss Kelly, another of the triple sisterhood of actresses, evinced a sprightliness of manner, which made us forget that she has few personal accomplishments. With these exceptions, the performance was intolerably dull.

But what shall I say of the after-piece, which was nothing less than the celebrated "Jocko ?" Many a baboon has doubtless trod the stage; but it is uncommon to see one without some disguise, and without at least attempting to enact a human character. In the present

instance, an actor assumes the port and bearing of a monkey, skipping about on all-fours, scratching his ear with his paw, climbing trees, and "playing such fantastic tricks," as would make the spirits of Shaks peare, Garrick, Addison, Goldsmith, Sheridan and Johnson weep for the degeneracy of the age, and the degradation of the English stage. What must be the literary taste of an audience, who can witness with complacency the antics of a player, in the guise of an ape?--Yet the fashionables of London applauded Jocko to the skies.

It is sincerely to be hoped, that such buffoonery may never reach our own shores; for I should view the introduction of these unnatural spectacles, these gross departures from the legitimate drama, as one of the greatest curses that could befal our country, having a direct tendency to corrupt the public taste and undermine the simplicity of our manners. In government, religion, and laws, in the useful arts and the modes of education, we have had the good sense to analyze the institutions of the old world, and to separate the chaff from the wheat. So let it be with our literary and public amusements. plain republican people want no gladiators nor boxers, no rope-dancing, bull-baiting, nor ballad-singing-none of those dramatic exhibitions, which pervert the design of the stage, and which have sprung up like excrescences from the luxurious and effeminate habits of other nations.

A

The lapse of a few days convinced us of a truth which might have been learned from the Spectator, that the month of November is not the time for seeing London. Neither sun, moon, nor stars are visible through the dense cloud of smoke, which envelopes the city. At this season there is not more than four or five hours of imperfect daylight. The lamps are lighted in the shops by about 3 o'clock in the afternoon. Add to these circumstances incessant rains and muddy streets, with the impossibility of moving without a coach. Several attempts were made to visit Westminster Hall, the Museum, and other public places, but the inclemency of the weather, or the sudden approach of night prevented.

Such a state of things compelled us to relinquish the idea of completing a survey of London for the present, and to prepare for our departure from England immediately. With one or two exceptions, the civilities of those acquaintances, who on the strength of letters of introduction had invited us to dine or offered other attentions, were declined or deferred till our return from the continent, and the two or three remaining days of our visit were occupied with the social and fireside enjoyments, which the politeness and hospitality of our friends afforded.