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
