manner, my remarks at present, to save repetition, will be circumscribed and as concise as possible.

It was a day of alternate storm and sunshine; and we dashed successively through showers of rain and clouds of dust, till the garments of some of the passengers exhibited as many layers, as the geological strata of our Derbyshire antiquary. The top of a coach during a squall, would form an admirable subject for the pencil of a Wilkie or a Teniers; and Mathews might here find as much matter of amusement, as in a French Diligence. One person after another rises, as he begins to feel the water trickle about him, till they are at length all standing up, holding on as they may. Perhaps an umbrella is raised, when the drippings from its eaves pour into the next man's neck. Finding all expedients fail, they at last resign themselves to "the peltings of the pitiless storm."

It was believed that my previous sketches had exhausted "the seven wonders of Derbyshire ;" but the famous steeple at Chesterfield, though last, is not least among the number. It is 230 feet in height, and produces the most perfect optical deception I have ever witnessed. The coach in entering and leaving the town, nearly encircled the church; and from whatever point the spire was surveyed, it appeared to lean and form the segment of a circle to such a degree, that one would scarcely believe it could stand upon its base. It is constructed of blocks of stone, laid in such a manner as to render it both deeply fluted and spiral, which in some way not very easily explained, causes the deception. This curiosity is more of a philosophical puzzle, than the Leaning Tower at Pisa, in as much as the latter inclines in only one direction, whereas the former seems nodding to its fall towards all points of the compass.

Soon after passing Mansfield, a considerable town neatly built of stone, we entered Nottingham Forest, an extensive and desolate moor resembling those already described. A part of it has been reclaimed, and planted with firs, which have now attained to a heavy growth. In the depth of the wilderness, one of the passengers pointed out the spot, where lately stood a gibbet, on which some descendant perhaps of Robin Hood or Little John, was crucified for a robbery and murder committed in the Forest some years since. A curious pebble, denominated blue stone, so compact as to resemble a metal, and much used in burnishing the wares of

Sheffield, is found upon this barren tract. It is extremely valuable, being almost as highly prized by the manufacturer as is the diamond. A female whom we saw employed in polishing snuffer-trays, said the one she was using could not be purchased for less than 51. sterling.

The entrance into Nottingham, a large and comparatively new town in its aspect, is singularly novel and grotesque. Every height is covered with wind-mills, and the knight of La Mancha would here have found a formidable host of antagonists. Scores of them are drawn up in battle array, swinging their giant arms in the air, and furnishing the Don some grounds of apology for his hallucinations. At Nottingham we paused only long enough to dine, and at Leicester, to take tea. Notices of both of these places will be found in some of my future letters. In passing out of the former, we crossed the Trent, one of the largest and finest rivers in England, over which is a handsome bridge, supported on numerous stone arches. From the summit of a hill in the vicinity, there is a wide and charming view of the town, with its ancient castle, and beautiful environs, The scenery is more variegated and picturesque, than any that was observed on this route. A whole horizon, many miles in diameter, is commanded from the eminence.

The ordinary constituents of an English landscape, may be given in few words. An undulating and smooth surface is divided into small fields by hedge-rows, which at this season are clothed in verdure, and blooming with flowers. Woodlands in their wild and natural state are seldom to be found. Forest trees of moderate size are sometimes disposed in copses, but more frequently scattered over extensive tracts, studding with emerald the yellow harvests, or shading luxuriant pastures. To these general features are to be added the appendages of winding streams, rustic bridges, villages with their tapering spires, farm-houses and cottages proverbial for their neatness, and the whole enlivened by a due proportion of animated nature. The scenery will bear the most rigid analysis; for its elements are intrinsically rich-a fertile soil, pure waters, exuberant vegetation, foliage of the deepest green, exact tillage, and taste blended with rural economy. Even a hasty glance obtained during this long ride through the interior of England satisfied me, that it is indeed a beautiful country, in which the bounties of nature have been improved to the utmost extent by the hand of

art. The season has been propitious, and the agricultural districts were probably seen under very favourable circumstances. Crops of grass and grain of all descriptions, are said to be unusually abundant. The peasantry were just in the midst of their harvest. Females were observed in the

field, using the sickle and other rural implements, with as much dexterity as the men.

At evening the rain ceased, and the skies cleared. Twilight and the wasted form of the harvest-moon threw a new charm over the landscape, rendered fresher and greener, and more fragrant by the showers of the day. Such rural wealth and splendour appeared worthy of all the panegyrics, which have been lavished by the muse of Thompson, Goldsmith, and a thousand other poets. Our journey was continued all night. Just at daylight, we passed Wooburn Abbey, the splendid seat of the Duke of Bedford; and by 7 o'clock, we were in the suburbs of London. The fatigues of the ride, and a loss of sleep, did not leave my mind in a fit condition for experiencing any very strong emotions, as the domes and spires of the metropolis were first beheld at a distance, rising amidst clouds of smoke. At all events, my impressions of the scene are not of the strongest and most vivid kind. Our entrance was by Halloway, Islington, and the Goswell road. A magnificent arch spans the way, and the view through it towards the capital is certainly sublime. The ingress and egress through this avenue is astonishing. It is constantly thronged with vehicles of all descriptions. We met not less than half a dozen stagecoaches, starting at nearly the same hour for Birmingham alone, each carrying fifteen or twenty passengers.

On the left of the road near the arch, the Whittington Hospital was pointed out to us. It is a neat Gothic building, with a centre and two wings, crowned with pinnacles. It was built with funds left by the celebrated Lord Mayor of London, whose name it bears. The very stone on which the fortunate adventurer sat, was designated. But I must not begin my description of the metropolis so far back as the story of "Whittington and his cat."

Our debut was not in the most imposing and courtly style. The coach, threading one dark and dirty street after another, drove to the Angel Inn, which has nothing angelic about it but its name. Here we were set down, amidst a multitude of a million, and a half, like drops of water falling

́into the ocean and lost in the common mass. Finding ourselves not in a condition to make calls, or seek for a better hotel, we made a temporary pause at the Angel. The chamber-maid conducted us to apartments, which she pronounced to be excellent, but which appeared to have been finished and furnished before the time of the Gunpowder Plot. Our only consolation was, that Goldsmith, Johnson, or Garrick, driven by the necessities of an exhausted purse, had shaved perhaps before the same antique glass, (which by dint of its ridges was a fine multiplier,) or had taken a chop from the same table, at which we were seated. There was nothing in the appearance of the furniture to render such a supposition at all improbable. Having taken a hot roll in almost as humble style, as did Dr. Franklin at his entrance into his adopted city, we hastened to Mr. Miller's, the rendezvous of all Americans. He recommended us to a boarding-house, in a central part of the city, where we found good accommodations and an agreeable circle of our countrymen.

LETTER X.

LONDON-ST. PAUL'S-THE THAMES-BRIDGES-SHIPPING -DOCKS-DEPTFORD-GREENWICH HOSPITAL-TUNNEL OF THE THAMES-THE TOWER.

August, 1825.-It was our wish as soon as practicable, to obtain a bird's-eye view of London, and an early visit was therefore paid to St. Paul's Church, occupying an elevated position in the heart of the city, and rising to the height of about four hundred feet from its basement. This gigantic and noble structure stands upon Ludgate-Hill, on the northern bank of the Thames, at a little distance from the water, upon the site of an ancient church, which was burned in the general conflagration of 1666. Nine years afterwards, the present edifice was begun. by the celebrated architect Sir Christopher Wren, who lived to complete it, with the aid of one master-mason, in thirty-five years after its foundation was laid. A curious, though perhaps fabulous anecdote is related, respecting its commencement. Sir Christopher directed a labourer to bring a stone, to be planted as a landmark under the centre of the dome, and on the ruin of the

old church. The workman accidentally brought a small fragment of a tomb-stone, upon which was the word "resurgam” -I shall rise again--being a part of an ancient inscription. It was applied to the resurrection of the building as well as of the body, and was accounted a good omen, cheering the zealous architect in his labours.

The modern edifice is of Portland stone, which has been discoloured by the influence of the weather, according as its several parts are more or less exposed. Portions of it retain the original hue of the material, while others are rendered grey and black, by the storms which have beaten against it for more than a century. At a little distance, the exterior assumes the aspect of well defined lights and shades in a picture. Unlike most other churches in the kingdom, St. Paul's is built in the Grecian style of architecture, embracing several orders, and fashioned after the purest models. Its situation, however, conveys an impression that its dome is much too large for the body. It is entirely surrounded by high brick buildings, rising nearly to the elevation of its walls, and obstructing the view at all points, except the opening of streets, converging and meeting at the yard. The dome is a prominent object, seen from nearly every part of the city and its suburbs, while the structure upon which it stands is entirely concealed. The best coup d'œil is from Ludgate-street, presenting a view of the two towers, upon the western end, a part of the cupola, and the majestic porch forming the principal entrance, together with the colossal figures of apostles, saints, and kings, which crown the summit of the edifice. It is built in the form of a cross, five hundred feet from east to west, and two hundred and eightyfive feet in the widest part, technically denominated the transept. The whole covers an area of more than two acres.

Having paid our fee of admission at the north door, we commenced an examination of the interior, which occupied several hours. A description in detail would swell to a volume, and be too heavy a draught upon the patience of my readers. Some half a dozen guides in succession conducted us to every part of the building. In the south-western turret is a spiral flight of steps, mounting to the height of about seventy feet, denominated "the geometrical stair-case," for what reason our guide could not explain. It was pronounced to be the greatest work of the kind in Europe. In the opposite turret is the belfry. The machinery of the clock and bell