Young Americans Abroad

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I ought to tell you that, on the last day of the voyage, we had a great
meeting in the cabin, Mr. Goodrich in the chair, for the purpose of
expressing the satisfaction of the passengers with the Arctic, her
captain, officers, and engineer. Several good speeches were made, and
some resolutions passed. This has become so ordinary an affair at the
termination of a passage, as to have lost much of its original value;
but as this ship had an unusual number of passengers, many of them well
known to their fellow-countrymen, and as great opposition had been
displayed, on both sides of the ocean, to this line of steamers, it was
thought suitable to express our views in relation to this particular
ship and the great undertaking with which she is identified. Every man
on board was satisfied that, in safety, these ships are equal to the
Cunard line; while in comfort, accommodation, size, and splendor they
far surpass their rivals. It really seems strange to us that Americans
should think of making the ocean trip in an English steamship, when
their own country has a noble experiment in trial, the success of which
alone depends upon the patriotism and spirit of her citizens. The
English on board are forced to confess that our ship and the line are
all that can be asked, and I think that pretty strong prejudices have
been conquered by this voyage. Every one left the ship with sentiments
of respect to Captain Luce, who, I assure you, we found to be a very
kind friend, and we shall all of us be glad to meet him again on ship or
shore.

On Monday, the 14th, at three o'clock, we took our pilot, and at eight
o'clock we anchored off Liverpool, and a dark-looking steamtug came off
to us for the mails, foreign ministers, and bearers of despatches. As
we came under the wing of one of the last-named class of favored
individuals, we took our luggage, and proceeded straight to the Adelphi
Hotel. I ought to say that James was the first to quit the ship and
plant his foot on Old England. It was quite strange to see it so light
at half past eight o'clock, although it was a rainy evening. I shall not
soon forget the cheerful appearance of the Adelphi, which, in all its
provisions for comfort, both in the coffee-room and our chambers, struck
me more favorably than any hotel I had ever seen. Although our
state-room on board the Arctic was one of the extra size and every thing
that was nice, yet I long for the conveniences of a bed-chamber and a
warm bath. I am quite disposed to join with the poor Irish woman who had
made a steerage passage from New York to Liverpool in a packet ship; and
when landed at St. George's pier, and seated on her trunk, a lady who
had also landed, when getting into her carriage, said, "Well, my good
woman, I suppose you are very glad to get out of the ship?" Her reply
was, "And indeed, my lady, every bone in my body cries out _feathers!_"

Yours truly,

WELD.

Letter 3.

LIVERPOOL.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

Well, we have fairly commenced our travel, and yet I can scarcely
realize the fact that I am here in Old England, and that, for some
months at least, I shall be away from home and the occupations of the
school-room. The next day after landing we went to the custom-house to
see our fellow-passengers pass their effects, and really felt glad to
think of our good fortune in landing every thing at night and direct
from the ship. It was an exciting scene, and I was not a little amused
to observe the anxiety of the gentlemen to save their cigars from the
duty imposed, and which amounts to nine shillings sterling per pound.
All sorts of contrivances were in vogue, and the experiences of men were
various, the man with one hundred, perhaps, being brought up, while his
neighbor with five hundred passed off successfully, and, as he cleared
the building, seemed disposed to place his finger on the prominent
feature of his face.

I quite like the appearance of Liverpool. After walking through the
principal streets and making a general survey of the shops,--no one
speaks of _store_,--I think I can testify to the extraordinary cleanness
of the city, and the massiveness and grandeur of the public buildings.

Our attention was first directed to the cemetery which had been
described, you remember, to us one evening in the study. It is on the
confines of the city, and is made but of an old quarry. I liked it
better than any cemetery I ever saw; it is unlike all I had seen, and,
though comparatively small, is very picturesque, I may almost say
romantic. The walls are lofty, and are devoted to spacious tombs, and
the groundwork abounds in garden shrubbery and labyrinth. Some of the
monuments are striking. The access to this resting-place is by a steep
cut through the rock, and you pass under an archway of the most imposing
character. At the entrance of the cemetery is a neat chapel, and the
officiating minister has a dwelling-house near the gate.

I wish you could see a building now in progress, and which has taken
twelve or fourteen years to erect, and from its appearance will not, I
suppose, be finished in four or five more. It is called St. George's
Hall. The intent is to furnish suitable accommodations for the various
law courts, and also to contain the finest ball-room in Europe. It is in
a commanding position. I know little of architecture, but this building
strikes me as one of exquisite beauty. We obtained an order from the
mayor to be shown over it and examine the works, and we enjoyed it very
much. The great hall will be without a rival in England. The town hall
is a noble edifice, and the people are quite proud of it. The interior
is finely laid out, and has some spacious rooms for the civic revelries
of the fathers of the town. The good woman who showed us round feels
complacently enough as she explains the uses of the rooms. The ball-room
is ninety feet by forty-six, and forty feet high. The dining and
drawing-rooms are spacious apartments. On the grand staircase is a noble
statue of George Canning, by Chantrey, whose beautiful one of Washington
we have so often admired in the Boston State House. In the building are
some good paintings of the late kings; one or two by Sir Thomas
Lawrence. The Exchange is directly behind the hall, and contains in the
centre a glorious bronze monument to Lord Nelson, the joint production
of Wyat and Westmacott. Death is laying his hand upon the hero's heart,
and Victory is placing a fourth crown on his sword. Ever since I read
Southey's Life of Nelson, I have felt an interest in every thing
relating to this great; yet imperfect man. You know that illustrated
work on Nelson that we have so often looked at it contains a large
engraving of this monument. As Yankee boys, we found our way to the top
of the Exchange, to look at the cotton sales-room. This same room has
more to do with our good friends at the south than any other in the
world. The atmosphere would have been chilly to a Georgian planter, as
cotton was down--down.

The Necropolis is a very spacious burying-place, open to all classes,
and where persons can be interred with the use of any form desired. The
gateway is of stone, and not unlike the granite one at Mount Auburn; and
on one side is a chapel, and on the other a house for the register. Not
far from this we came to the Zooelogical Gardens, kept in excellent
order, and where is a good collection of animals, birds, &c. The
Collegiate Institution is an imposing structure in the Tudor style.

St. George's Church, which stands at the head of Lord Street, occupies
the position of the old castle, destroyed, I believe, more than one
hundred and fifty years ago, and is a very graceful termination to one
of the best business avenues of the city. Several of the churches and
chapels are in good style. But one of the best buildings is--as it
should be, in a city like this--the Sailor's Home, not far from the
Custom House. This is a highly-ornamented house, and would adorn any
city of the world.

The Custom House is thought to be one of the finest buildings in the
kingdom. It occupied ten years in its erection. It is composed of three
_facades_, from a rusticated pavement, each having a splendid portico of
eight Ionic columns. The whole is surmounted by a dome, one hundred and
thirty feet high, and the effect of the building is excellent. The glory
of Liverpool is her docks, and a stranger is sure to be pointed to the
great landing stage, an immense floating pier, which was moored into its
present position on the 1st of June, 1847. This stage is five hundred
and seven feet long, and over eighty feet wide. This mass of timber
floats upon pontoons, which have to support more than two thousand tons.
At each end is a light barge.

In the Clarence dock are to be found the Irish and coasting steamers,
and to the north are the Trafalgar, Victoria, and Waterloo docks; the
Prince's dock, and the Great Prince's dock basin. On the outside of all
these is a fine parade, of about one half a mile, and which affords one
of the most beautiful marine promenades in the world, and gives an
interesting view of the Cheshire shore, opposite the city. The Prince's
dock is five hundred yards long, and one hundred broad. Vessels, on
arriving, discharge on the east side, and take in cargo on the west.
Besides all these there is the Brunswick dock, Queen's dock, Duke's
dock, Salthouse dock, &c.

The Royal Liverpool Institution is a great benefit to the inhabitants.
It has a good library, fine collections of paintings, and a good museum
of natural history. Many of these paintings belong to the early masters,
and date even before the fifteenth century. We were interested to find
here a complete set of casts of the Elgin marbles. The originals were
the decorations of the Parthenon at Athens, and are now in the British
Museum. As we shall spend some time in that collection, I say no more at
present about these wonderful monuments of genius. The Athenaeum and the
Lyceum are both fine buildings, and each has a good library, lecture,
and news rooms.

We were disappointed at finding the Rev. Dr. Raffles, the most eloquent
preacher of the city, out of town. He was the successor of Spencer, who
was drowned bathing in the Mersey, and his Life by Raffles is one of
deep interest. The great historical name of Liverpool is William Roscoe,
the author of the Lives of Leo X. and the Medici. I must not omit to
tell you that, during our stay, the town was all alive with a regiment
of lancers, just arrived from Ireland, on their way to London. They are
indeed fine-looking fellows, and are mounted on capital horses. I have
watched their evolutions in front of the Adelphi with much pleasure, and
have been amused to notice a collection of the most wretched-looking
boys I ever saw, brought together by the troops. There seems to me more
pauperism this week, in Liverpool, than I ever saw in New York in my
life.

Truly yours,

JAMES.

Letter 4.

LONDON.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

Does it not seem strange that I am here in London? I can hardly tell
what to write about first. I stand at the door of our hotel and look at
the crowds in the streets, and then at old King Charles, at Charing
Cross, directly across the road, and when I think that this is the old
city where Wat Tyler figured, and Whittington was lord mayor, and Lady
Jane Grey was beheaded, and where the Tower is still to be seen, I am
half beside myself, and want to do nothing but roam about for a good
month to come. I have read so much concerning London, that I am pretty
sure I know more about it than many of the boys who have heard Bow
Church bells all their lives. We left Liverpool for Birmingham, where we
passed an afternoon and evening in the family of a manufacturer very
pleasantly, and at ten o'clock took the express mail train for London.
We are staying at a hotel called the Golden Cross, Charing Cross. We
have our breakfast in the coffee-room, and then dine as it suits our
convenience as to place and hour. We spent one day in riding about the
city, and I think we got quite an idea of the great streets.

The Strand is a very fine business street, perhaps a mile long. It
widens in one part, and has two churches in the middle of it, and a
narrow street seems built inside it at one place, as nasty, dirty a lane
as I ever saw, called Hollowell Street. I was very much delighted at the
end of the Strand to see old Temple Bar, which is the entrance to the
city proper, and which divides Fleet Street from the Strand. It is a
noble archway, with small side arches for foot passengers. The head of
many a poor fellow, and the quarters of men called traitors, have been
fastened over this gateway in former times.

Dr. Johnson was once walking in Westminster Abbey with Goldsmith, and as
they were looking at the Poet's Corner, Johnson said to his friend,--

"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur istis."

When they had walked on to Temple Bar, Goldsmith stopped Johnson, and
pointed to the heads of Fletcher and Townley, hanging above, and slyly
remarked,--

"Forsitan et nostrum nomen miscebitur _istis_."

I suppose you remember that the great dictionary man was a Jacobite in
his heart.

The present bar was put up in 1670, and was designed by Sir Christopher
Wren. The statues on the sides, which are towards the city, are those of
Queen Elizabeth and James I.; and towards the Strand, those of Charles
I. and Charles II. They stand in niches.

Whenever the monarch passes into the city, there is much ceremony takes
place at the bar. The gates are closed, a herald sounds a trumpet and
knocks for entrance, the gates are opened, and the lord mayor of London
presents the sword of the city to the sovereign, who returns it to his
lordship. The upper part of the bar is used by Messrs. Childs, the
bankers, as a store room for their past account books.

Fleet Street is thronged with passengers and carriages of all sorts.
Just a few doors from the bar, on the right-hand side, is a
gayly-painted front, which claims to have been a palace of Henry VIII.
and the residence of Cardinal Wolsey. It is now used as a hair-cutting
shop, up stairs. We went up and examined the panelled ceiling, said to
be just as it used to be. It is certainly very fine, and looks as if it
were as old as the times of bluff Harry. Of course we had our hair cut
in the old palace.

We followed through Fleet Street, noticing the offices of Punch and the
London Illustrated News, till we came to Ludgate Hill,--rather an
ascent,--which is the direct way to the Cathedral Church of St. Paul's.
It stands directly in front of Ludgate Hill, and the churchyard occupies
a large space, and the streets open on each side, making a sort of
square called Paul's Churchyard, and then at the rear you go into
Cheapside. We looked with interest, I can tell you, at Bow Church, and,
as the old bells were ringing, I tried to listen if I could hear what
Whittington heard once from their tingling--"Turn again, Whittington,
lord mayor, of London." At the end of this street, on the right hand, is
the lord mayor's house, called the Mansion House, and directly in front
of the street, closing it up, and making it break off, is the Royal
Exchange; whilst at the left is the Bank of England. All these are very
noble-looking buildings, and you will hear about them from us as we
examine them in our future walks. We went to the counting-house of
Messrs. Baring & Co., the great merchants and bankers for so many
Americans, and there we found our letters and got some money. Mr.
Sturgis, one of the partners, told us to take the check to the bank, No.
68 Lombard Street, and informed us that was the very house where the
great merchant of Queen Elizabeth's time--Sir Thomas Gresham--used to
live. He built the first London Exchange, and his sign, a large
grasshopper, is still preserved at the bank. On Good Friday we had bunns
for breakfast, with a cross upon them, and they were sold through the
streets by children, crying "One a penny, two a penny, hot cross bunns."
We took a carriage and rode to Camden town to visit a friend; thence we
took the cars, to Hackney, and called on the Rev. Dr. Cox, who some
fifteen years ago made the tour of the United States, and wrote a
volume on our country. We then returned to London, and took our dinner
at the London Coffee House, Ludgate Hill. This has been a very
celebrated house for one hundred years, and figures largely in the books
of travellers fifty years ago. It has a high reputation still, and every
thing was excellent, and the waiting good. You cannot walk about London
without observing how few boys of our age are to be seen in the streets,
and when we asked the reason, we were told that nearly all the lads of
respectable families were sent to boarding schools, and the vacations
only occur at June and December; then the boys return home, and the city
swarms with them at all the places of amusement. We seemed to be objects
of attention, because we wore caps; (here boys all wear hats;) and then
our gilt buttons on blue jackets led many to suppose that we were
midshipmen. The omnibuses are very numerous, and each one has a
conductor, who stands on a high step on the left side of the door,
watching the sidewalks and crying out the destination of the "bus," as
the vehicle is called. There is a continual cry, "Bank, bank," "Cross,
cross," "City, city," &c. I must not forget to tell you one thing; and
that is, London is the place to make a sight-seeing boy very tired, and
I am quite sure that, in ten minutes, I shall be unable to do what I can
now very heartily, viz., assure you that

I am yours, affectionately,

GEORGE.

Letter 5.

LONDON.

DEAR CHARLEY:--

After passing a day or two in a general view of the city, and making
some preliminary arrangements for our future movements, we all called
upon Mr. Lawrence, the minister of our country at the court of St.
James, which expression refers to the appellation of the old palace of
George III. Mr. Lawrence resides in Piccadilly, opposite the St. James's
Park, in a very splendid mansion, which he rents from an English
nobleman, all furnished. We were very kindly received by his excellency,
who expressed much pleasure at seeing his young countrymen coming
abroad, and said he was fond of boys, and liked them as travelling
companions. I handed him a letter of introduction from his brother. Mr.
Lawrence offered us all the facilities in his power to see the sights,
and these are great, for he is furnished by the government of England
with orders which will admit parties to almost every thing in and about
London. Amongst other tickets he gave us the following admissions: to
the Queen's stables, Windsor Castle, Dulwich Gallery, Woolwich Arsenal,
Navy Yard, Sion House, Northumberland House, Houses of Parliament, and,
what we highly valued, an admission to enter the exhibition, which is
yet unfinished, and not open to inspection.

After leaving the minister, we paid our respects to Mr. Davis, the
secretary of legation, and were kindly received. We walked on from
Piccadilly to the Crystal Palace, passing Apsley House, the residence of
the Duke of Wellington, and soon reached Hyde Park, with its famous
gateway and the far-famed statue of "the duke." As we shall go into some
detailed account of the palace after the exhibition opens, I would only
say, that we were exceedingly surprised and delighted with the building
itself, and were so taken up with that as hardly to look at its
contents, which were now rapidly getting into order. The effect of the
noble elms which are covered up in the palace is very striking and
pleasing, and very naturally suggests the idea that the house would, by
and by, make a glorious green-house for the city, where winter's
discontents might be almost made into a "glorious summer." A poor fellow
was killed here, just before we entered, by falling through the skylight
roof. He was at work on a plank laid across the iron frame, and that
tipping up, threw him on to the glass, and his death was instantaneous.
We are more and more pleased at having so central a domicile as the
Golden Cross, for time is every thing when you have to see sights; and
here we can get to any point we desire by a bus, and obtain a fly at any
moment. Very much that we desire to see, too, is east of Temple Bar, and
our Mentor seems determined that we shall become acquainted with the
London of other times, and we rarely walk out without learning who lived
in "that house," and what event had happened in "that street." I fancy
that we are going to gather up much curious matter for future use and
recollection by our street wanderings. A book called "The Streets of
London" is our frequent study, and is daily consulted with advantage.
To-day we dined at the famous Williams's, in Old Bailey, where boiled
beef is said to be better than at any other place in London. It was
certainly as fine as could be desired. The customers were numerous, and
looked like business men. The proprietor was a busy man, and his eyes
seemed every where. A vision of cockroaches, however, dispelled the
appetite for a dessert, and we perambulated our way to the Monument.
This has a noble appearance, and stands on Fish Street Hill. The pillar
is two hundred and two feet high, and is surmounted by a gilt flame. The
object of the Monument is to commemorate the great fire of London in
Charles II.'s reign.

It had an inscription which ascribed the origin of the fire to the
Catholics; but recently this has been obliterated. It was to this
inscription and allegation that Pope referred in his lines,--

"Where London's column, pointing to the skies, Like a tall bully,
lifts its head, and _lies_."

There are few things in London that have impressed us more than the
fine, massive bridges which span the Thames, and are so crowded with
foot passengers and carriages. Every boy who has read much has had his
head full of notions about London Bridge; that is, old London Bridge,
which was taken down about thirty years ago. The old bridge was
originally a wooden structure, and on the sides of the bridge were
houses, and the pathway in front had all sorts of goods exposed for
sale, and the Southwark gate of the bridge was disfigured with the heads
and quarters of the poor creatures who were executed for treason.

The new bridge was commenced in 1825, and it was opened in 1831 by
William IV. and Queen Adelaide. The bridge has five arches; the central
one is one hundred and fifty feet in the clear, the two next one hundred
and forty feet, and the extreme arches one hundred and thirty feet. The
length, including the abutments, is about one thousand feet, its width
eighty-three feet, and the road for carriages fifty-five feet.

The great roads leading to London Bridge have been most costly affairs;
and I was told that a _parish and its church_ had been destroyed to make
these approaches. The men of different generations, who, for almost one
thousand years, looked at the old bridge, would stare at the present one
and its present vicinity, if they were to come back again. Southwark
Bridge was commenced in 1814, and finished in 1819. It has three arches,
and the central arch is two hundred and forty feet, which is the
greatest span in the world. In this bridge are five thousand three
hundred and eight tons of iron. Blackfriars Bridge was commenced in
1760, and opened in 1770. It has nine elliptical arches, of which the
middle one is one hundred feet in width. Recently this bridge has been
thoroughly repaired. I think this is my favorite stand-point for the
river and city. Nowhere else have I obtained such a view up and down the
river. Here I have a full prospect of the Tower, St. Paul's Cathedral,
Somerset House, the Houses of Parliament, Westminster Abbey, and perhaps
twenty-five other churches! But the great bridge of all is the Waterloo
one, commenced in 1811, and opened in 1817, on the 18th of June, the
anniversary of the battle of Waterloo. Of course, the Duke of Wellington
figured upon the occasion. At this point the river is one thousand three
hundred and twenty-six feet wide; and the bridge is of nine elliptical
arches, each of one hundred and twenty feet space, and thirty-five feet
high above high water, and its entire length two thousand four hundred
and fifty-six feet. It is painful to hear the sad stories which have a
connection with this magnificent structure. It seems the chosen resort
of London suicides, and very frequent are the events which almost
justify its appellation--"the Bridge of Sighs." I love to walk this and
the other bridges, and look at the mighty city, and think of its
wonderful history and its existing place in the affairs of the world;
and I cannot help thinking of the reflection of the wise man--"One
generation passeth away, but the earth remaineth." I have never felt my
own insignificance so much, Charley, as when walking in one of these
crowded streets. I know no one; I am unknown; I am in solitude, and feel
it more, perhaps, than I should if alone upon a mountain top or in a
wilderness. I am sure I have told you enough for once, and perhaps you
are as tired of my letter as I was in going over the places I have
written to you about; so I will relieve your patience.

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