15. London. Dear Charlie. I know how curious you are to hear all about the Royal Exhibition, so I shall do my best to give you such an account of our visits to it, as may enable you to get a bird's-eye view of the affair. Almost as soon as I arrived I determined upon securing season tickets for the boys, in order that they might not only see the pageant of the opening on the 1st of May, but also have frequent opportunities to attend the building and study its contents before the reduced prices should so crowd the palace as to render examination and study nearly impracticable. However, there came a report through all the daily papers that the Queen had abandoned the idea of going in person to inaugurate the exhibition, and the sale of tickets flagged, and it was thought prices would be reduced below the three guineas, which had been the rate. I left London for a few days without purchasing, and on my return I called for four season tickets. When to my surprise I was told that, just an hour before, orders had been given from the board to raise them to four guineas. I at once purchased them, although I regarded the matter as an imposition. A few days after, Prince Albert revoked the action of the board, and orders were issued to refund the extra guinea to all who had purchased at the advanced price. This was easily ascertained by reference to the number on the ticket, and registered at purchase with the autograph of the proprietor. Of course we saved our four guineas. For several days before the 1st of May, all London, I may say all England, and almost all the world was on tiptoe. Every man, woman, and child talked of the Crystal Palace, the Great Exhibition, the Queen, and Prince Albert. For a week or two there had been a succession of cold rainstorms. Winter had lingered on the lap of April. Men were looking at the 1st of May with gloomy anticipations of hail, rain, sleet, and snow. Barometers were in demand. The 30th of April gave a hail storm. The 1st of May arrived, the day, and low, heaven is clear, and all the clouds are gone. It was as though the windows of heaven were open to let the glory from above stream through and bless industry's children, who are about to celebrate their jubilee. The Queen, it has said, has a charm as regards the weather. I heard many exclaim, it is the Queen's weather, it is always her luck. Such a sight as that day afforded was never before witness, and such a spectacle will probably never again be gazed upon. The streets were thronged early. Every westward artery of the great city pulsated with the living tide that flowed through it. From the far east, where the docks bordered the Thames, came multitudes, though not exactly stars in the hemisphere of fashion. Ladies in the aristocratic precincts of Belgravia rose at an early hour, and for once followed the Queen's good every day example. The lawyers rushed from Lincoln's and Grey's Inns of Court. The royal exchange was so dull at ten o'clock that the very grasshopper on its vein might have been surprised. Holburn was crammed at when in olden time people pressed and struggled and strove to see Jack Shepherd, Joshua Wilde, Dick Turpin, or any such worthies on their sad way to Tyburn. But it is no jibbit now allures the morbid multitude. They are gaily, gently, and gladly traveling to the home of industry. Among all the pleasant sights that every moment delighted us, none were more pleasant than the happy family groups, who on every side push along, keep moving. Just see that mechanic. He looks as proud as a Lord, and why shouldn't he be, with his wife leaning, trustingly, lovingly, on his arm? He, good man, has thrown away the saw, or plane, or any other tool of handicraft, and now his little boy, O, the delight, the wonder, in that boy's face, is willingly dragged along. Well, on we go, driving across what you would call impassable streets, and lo, we are wedged up in a crowd, and such a crowd, a crowd of all nations. At length we reach the palace gates, and there, who can tell the press and strive for entrance. Long and nobly did the police struggle and resist, but at length the outward pressure was omnipotent, and the full tide of lucky ones with seasoned tickets gained, entrance into, not the palace, but the enclosure. Then came order, breathing space, tickets were examined, and places assigned on cards, given as we entered into the palace itself. We all obtained good positions, very good ones. This was at eleven o'clock. At about a quarter to twelve, one standing near to us remarked, she will be to her time, she always is. And he was right, for scarcely had he prophesied before a prolonged shouting told that the queen was coming. Plumes in the light-wind dancing were the outward and visible signs of the life-guards, who came gently trotting up. Then came four carriages, the coachmen and footmen of which were so disguised with gold lace and wigs and hair-powder that their mothers wouldn't have known them, and then the queen, not robed and tricked out like the queen's and children's story-books, so dreadful as to resemble thunderbolts and petticoats, not hooped and fur-belowed and stem-acquered and embroidered all over, as was Elizabeth, nor with a cap, like Mary, Queen of Scots, not with eight horses prancing before the queen's carriage, but in her private carriage drawn by two horses. Off went all hats. I wish you could have heard the cheering as the queen entered the wondrous building. Oh, it was like the voice of many waters. Such deep, prolonged, pretty cheering I never heard. As Victoria entered, up went the standard of England, and never before did its folds wave over such a scene. The entrance of majesty was the signal for the organ to play, the vitreous roof vibrates as the sounds fly along the transparent aisles, and we had musical glasses on a large scale. It would require the pen of our favorite Christopher North to describe the magnificent scene when the queen ascended the throne, gathered by all the elegance and nobility of her kingdom. Her husband reads an address, she replies, the venerable archbishop dedicates the temple of industry. The queen declares the palace opened, and the procession is formed to walk through its aisles. No small task this, but then thirty thousand persons are waiting to gaze on the queen and her court. A ludicrous sight it was to see two of England's proudest peers walking backwards before the king. The marquee of Westminster and Earl of Bredelbane performed this feat, and glad enough must they have been when they received their dismission. The heralds, some twelve or fourteen in black velvet, looked finely. The queen walked like a queen, and bore herself nobly and womanly. She is a small figure, fair face, light hair, large, full, blue eyes, plump cheek, and remarkably fine neck and bust. She leaned upon her husband's right arm, holding in her hand the Prince of Wales, while Albert led the Princess Royal. I was sadly disappointed in the appearance of the Prince of Wales. He is altogether a feeble-looking child, and cannot have much mental force. The Princess is a fine, energetic-looking girl. We stood within a yard of the royal party as it passed bowing along. Then came the members of the royal family, and then visitors from Prussia and Holland, the ladies and gentlemen of the queen's household, the cabinet ministers, the foreign ministers, the archbishop in his robe, and the members of the royal commission, the Lord Mayor of London, and the alderman. There, too, was Paxton, the architect of this great wonder. It was his day of triumph, and everyone seemed to be glad first fortune. All these were in gorgeous court-dresses. I have seen all sorts and kinds of show, but never did I witness such a spectacle, as was this day afforded to the Congress of the World. The Duke of Wellington and his companion in arms, the Marquis of Anglesey, walked arm in arm, Parnobilis Fratrum. It was Wellington's birthday. He is 82 and Anglesey 81. The Marquis walks well for a man of his age, and who has to avail himself of an artificial leg. They were most enthusiastically cheered in all parts of the house. In the diplomatic corps there was great splendor of costume, but no man carried himself more stately than did Mr. Lawrence, whose fine, manly figure admirably becomes a court-dress. I do not think that I ever saw a collection of ladies so plain and homely as the court-ladies of Queen Victoria, who walked behind her in procession. The Duchess of Sutherland has been renowned for her majestic beauty, but she is passe, and her friends are, I think, matchless for entire destitution of personal charms. But there was enough present to atone for the want of this in the royal circle. Some of the most exquisite faces I ever saw were there in those galleries, and forms of beauty that can hardly be surpassed. I was much surprised at noticing in the vast crowd, known to be about thirty thousand, that there were so few lads. I do not believe there were more than ten or fifteen in the place, and as we have already said, the absence of lads is owing to their all-being at boarding schools. Our boys, you may well suppose, are greatly pleased with having witnessed the greatest pageant of the age, and one that can never be surpassed. We shall soon be at the exhibition again and can apply ourselves to a careful survey of its interesting contents. Yours affectionately, J.O.C. Now that the excitement consequent on the opening of the crystal palace has, in some degree, subsided, and curiosity to a certain extent satisfied, we are enabled to obtain more lucid ideas of the six extraordinary building and its wondrous contents. The admission for several days was one pound, and at this high price the visitors were of the most fashionable character. We have been much pleased in looking at the very fine equipages that throng the roads around the park. The carriages, horses, and liveries are in the best possible taste. When we entered the palace was no longer heightened in splendor by the presence of the sovereign and her brilliant court. The superb canopy which overshadowed the D.S. on which the gorgeous chair had stood alone remained to indicate that there England's queen had performed the inaugural rites, but the great facts of the exhibition remained. The crystal fountains still played, the magnificent elms appeared in their spring garniture of delicate green beneath the lofty transept, and the myriad works of skill, art, and science lay around, above, and beneath us. I entered the building by its eastern door, and immediately on passing the screen, which interposes between the ticket offices and the interior, the whole extent of the palace of glass lay before me. Fancy yourself standing at the end of a broad avenue, eighteen hundred and fifty feet in length, roofed with glass and bounded laterally by gaily decorated slender pillars. The effect was surpassingly beautiful. Right and left of this splendid nave were other avenues, into which the eyes wandered at will, for no walls, no barriers, are to be found in the whole building. All is open from floor to roof, and from side to side, and from the eastern to the western extremity. Proceeding westward I saw the compartments allotted to our own country. The first thing I noticed was a piece of sculpture, the dying Indian, a fine production, though perhaps a trifle overdone. Then came an American bridge, which painters were still at work upon, and then, backed by drapery of crimson cloth, that splendid creation of genius, the Greek slave, which will immortalize the name of Hiram Powers. I shall not, I think, be accused of national partiality when I assert that this statue is, in sculpture, one of the two gems of the exhibition. Perhaps, if I were not from the United States, I should say it was the gem. When I come to tell you of the Italian marbles, I shall refer to that production of art, which can alone be thought to dispute the palm of superiority with it. Everyone expresses the highest admiration at the slave, and a crowd is constantly around the spot. One old gentleman, who was an ecstasy over the sculpture, very sharply rebuked a person complaining of the paucity of the American productions, with fie there is one thing America has sent that all Europe may admire and no one in Europe can equal. Turning aside from this breathing marble, I examined the American exhibition of products and manufacturers. I confessed to you I felt mortified with the comparative meagerness of our show, because it contrasts poorly with the abundance exhibited by nations far inferior to us in skill and enterprise. Still we have much to show, but the useful prevails over the beautiful. I am quite sure, too, that there are things here which will compel attention, and carry away calm, dispassionate approbation from the jurors. The United States exhibits numerous specimens of tools, cordage, cotton, and woolen fabrics, shawls, colors, prints, daguerreotypes, silver and gold plate, pianos, musical instruments, harnesses, saddle reed, trunks, book binding, paper hangings, buggies, wagons, carriages, carpetings, bedsteads, boots and shoes, skulls, boats, furs, hair manufacturers, lithographs, perfumery, soaps, surgical instruments, cutlery, dentistry, locks, India rubber goods, machinery, agricultural implements, stoves, kitchen ranges, safes, slays, maps, globes, philosophical instruments, rates, furnaces, firearms of all descriptions, models of railroads, locomotives, etc. You may add to these fine specimens all our produce as cotton, sugar, tobacco, hemp, and the mineral ores, iron, lead, zinc, plumbago, tin, and copper, coals of all kinds, preserved meats, etc. I wish, Charlie, you could go with me into a door south of the transept, over which in oddly shaped letters are the words Medieval Court. The very name reminds one of potpourri, puseism, and pugin. This medieval court absolutely dazzles one's eyes with its splendors. Ouriferous draperies line the walls, from the ceilings hang gold and silver lamps, such lamps as are to be seen in Romish chapels before the statues of the Virgin, huge candlesticks in which are placed enormous candles, gothic canopies and richly carved stalls, images of he and she saints of every degree, crucifixes and cruciates, copes and mitres, embroideries of riches character are all here, things which the mother of harlots prizes as the chosen instruments by which she deceives the nations. And truly beautiful are many of these things as works of art, but it is only as works of art that any Christian can admire them. As I gazed on the rich tissues and golden insignia, I mourned for poor corrupt human nature, to which alone such you-joves could be acceptable. How would Paul or Peter have stared had they been required to don such glittering pontificals as are here to be seen? While I fear great respect for pugin's ability as an architect and designer, I have profound pity for those who are deluded by these gorgeous symbols of a gloomy, cruel and heartless creed. There is a large golden cage, not altogether unlike a parrot's, and there is a press indeed. What calls such attention from the multitude? I join the gazers and see what at first appears to be three pieces of a regularly shaped glass, white and glittering, one large piece about the size of a walnut, and two others a little larger than marbles. What renders that bit of glass so attractive? Glass, no, it is a gem of purist ray serene, a diamond, the diamond of diamonds, the largest in the world. In short, it is the Kohanur, or as the Orientals poetically called it, the mountain of light. Its estimated value is two million sterling, enough to buy the crystal palace itself nine times over. The history of this precious gem is romantically curious. It belonged to Runjit Sanjib and is now an English trophy. Let us enter that partially darkened chamber and stand before a painted glass window, the production of Bertini of Milan. I can't describe this extraordinary production. It is illustrative of Dante, and for brilliancy of color and harmony of combination, it is not surpassed by the much-vaunted specimens of past ages. From the sublime to the ridiculous, said Burke, there is but a step, and not at much greater distance from this Dantean window is a German toy stand. It is amusing to observe a big, tenbrook sort of Alemania, arranging tiny children's toys. The contrast between the German giant and the petty fabrics he is setting off to the best advantage provokes a smile. Let us join the throng rushing into the suite of rooms furnished by the upholsterers of Vienna. These rooms are indeed magnificent and must afford a high treat to the lovers of wood carving. There is a bookcase, which is almost a miracle of art. The flowers seem to wave, and the leaves to tremble so nearly do they approach the perfection of nature. Then there is, it is said by the judges, the most superb bed in the world. It is literally covered with carvings of the most costly and delicate description. Since the time of the famous Grinling Gibbons, the English carver, nothing has been seen like it. These Austrian rooms are among the great guns of the show, and will repay repeated visits. Here stands the glorious Amazon of Kiss of Berlin. This group of colossal proportions represents a female on horseback, in the act of launching a javelin at a tiger which has sprung on the forequarter of her affrighted steam. This is a wonderful work of art, and places its author in the first rank of sculptors. Nothing can surpass the lifelike character of the Amazon's horse and the ferocious beast. As a tribute to the genius of Kiss, a grand banquet is to be given to him by the sculptors and artists of England. Well does he deserve such an honour. Close by the Amazon is a colossal lion in bronze. This is the softest piece of casting I ever saw. The cat-like motion of the paw is perfectly lifelike. I turn back again to that Amazon. I could gaze on the agony of that horse for hours, and I think I should continue to discover new beauties. The crusader, a colossal equestrian statue of Godfrey of Bullion, is also very imposing. The entire floor is covered in the centre of the avenue, from east to west, with beautiful statues, models, etc. We ascended to one of the galleries for the purpose of taking a bird's eye view of the gay, busy scene, and a most splendid scene was thrown open to our gaze. Far as the eye could reach the building was alive, with gaily dressed people, who amidst statues and trophies and trees and fountains, wandered as in the groves of some enchanted land. As I strode onwards I came to where a tiny fountain sent up its silvery jet of odocolone, and an assistant of Jean-Marie Farina, from a little golden spoon, poured on my handkerchief, unasked the odiferous essence. Then we lingered to witness two of the noblest cakes, the side of which ever gladdened the heart of a bride. Gunter, the great pastry-cook, was the architect of the one which is a triumph of taste. The other was adorned with cupid and psyche-like emblems. Then came wax-glowers, beaded artfully with glass, so as to appear spangled with dew-drops. Then we inspected cashmere shawls, on which I saw many a lady cast looks of admiration, and I almost fancied of covetousness. Down again, and we are beneath the transept. Far higher than the tops of the huge elm-trees is a crystal arch which spans this intersecting space. Around are marble statues which gleam lustrously amid the foliage of tropical plants, which shielded from the chilling air without seem to be quite at home here. And in the midst up rises Osler's crystal fountain, a splendid affair, twenty-seven feet in height, and consisting of four tons of cut glass. No exquisitely is it arranged that no metal, either of joint or pipe, can be seen. It is one entire and perfect chrysalite. From its lofty summit issues forth a dome of water which separates and falls in prismatic showers into a spacious space underneath. There are three other fountains, but this is the monarch of all. On either side of this beautiful production of Birmingham manufacturer are two equestrian statues of the Queen and Prince Albert, about which I cannot speak in admiration. Groups of figures line the sides of the transept, and there is a puck which I would like all friends to look at. Oh, he is alive with fun, and there marble speaks and laughs. We have been greatly delighted with the English room of sculpture. There is a fine portrait statue of Flaxman from the chisel of Franks, a very clever statue of John Wesley, but if I were to chronicle all the sculptures here I may as well write a catalogue at once. But before I quit the subject of marble let me just allude to the Italian gallery. There the specimens are indeed exquisite, and remind us that the genius of art yet loves to linger in the land of Cypress and Myrtle, in that beautiful country where the poet's eye and painter's hand are most divine. Among the gems of marble is one which I told you was the only possible rival of Powers's Greek slave. This lovely production is the veiled Vesta. It represents a young and exquisitely formed girl kneeling and offering her obligation of the sacred fire. Her face is veiled, but every feature is distinctly visible, as it were, through the folds which cover her face. So wonderfully is the veil-like appearance produced that myself and others were almost inclined to believe that some trick of art had been practiced, and a film of gauze actually hung over the features. It was not so, however, the hard marble, finally managed, alone caused the deception. Raphael Monti of Milan is the illustrious artist of the veiled Vesta. One of the most interesting machines in the whole exhibition is the envelope machine of Messers de la Rue and Company of London. In its operations it more resembles the efforts of human intellect than anything I have seen before in machinery.  In a second, and as if by magic, a blank piece of paper is folded, gummed, and stamped, and in fact converted into a perfect envelope. As soon as finished a pair of steel fingers picks it up, lays it aside, and pushes it out of the way in the most orderly manner possible. These envelopes, so made, are given to all who choose to accept them. Opposite to this machine is the stand of Gélo, a steel pen celebrity. Here are pens of all sizes and of various materials. One monster pen might fit a Brabdenadian fist, for it is two feet long and has a nib one quarter of an inch broad, and there are others so small that no one but a Lulupushan lady could use them. In these extremes are others of various dimensions arranged in a very tasteful manner. Something must be got out of this branch of business, for it is only a month or two since Mr. Gélo purchased an estate for ninety thousand pounds sterling. Here too is a novelty, the model of St. Stephen's Church, Bolton, Lancashire. The model and the church itself are both composed of terracotta. This material was also employed in the construction of the principal fittings, such as the screen, pews, organ gallery, pulpit, etc. This is a new adaptation of terracotta. The spire severely tests its capabilities, as it is of open gothic or tracery work. A large model of Liverpool is beautifully constructed to scale, and must be the result of immense labour. It is twenty-five feet long and exhibits at a glance a bird's eye view of the town, the docks, the river Mersey, and the adjacent places. Hundreds of miniature vessels, amongst them, the Great Britain, crowd the docks, fleets of merchant men are seen on the Mersey, sailing to and from the port, and in the busy streets so minutely delineated that any particular house may be distinguished, numerous vehicles are seen, and hundreds, too, of pygmy men and women are observed walking in the public ways. In short, it is Liverpool in a glass case, and no mean exhibition in itself. The Thames Plate Glass Company exhibits the largest plate of glass in the world. Its dimensions are eighteen feet eight inches by ten feet. There is not a blemish on its brilliant surface, and it is as true as possible. It is placed in such a position that it reflects the whole length of the main avenue of the Crystal Palace, and the effect produced is superb. A Catholic bookseller from Belgium makes quite a display of his editions of devotional works for every country under heaven, and there, too, are the effigies of Cardinal Borneo, Thomas Abecquette, and the late Archbishop of Paris, all arrayed in full pontificals. Their crossies are very richly jeweled. If the apostles of Christ could revisit the earth, they would never fancy that these were their successors in the work and patience of the gospel. Few things have impressed me more than the exquisite carvings and elaborate work of the cabinetware, and I must, Charlie, try to describe one piece of furniture which excites universal praise. It is a cabinet made by John Stevens of Taunton. It was prepared at great cost, and is the gem of the carved work in the exhibition. The wood of which it was composed was a walnut tree, which not long ago flourished near Taunton. In order that you may not suppose I praise everything too highly, and without sufficient ground for admiration, I shall give you a particular description of this incomparable piece of furniture. It represents, in four beautifully carved male figures, executed after the style of Gibbons, the periods of youth, manhood, maturity, and old age, whilst other four female figures, beautifully brought up in good relief, are representative of the passions. Here there was an opportunity for displaying some fine needlework, and Miss Kingsbury, a lady of the town, who has received from the hand of royalty a reward for her talents, has turned the opportunity to good account, and produced some appropriate work, displaying a skill truly astonishing. This is not the least attractive portion of the cabinet, and, as we shall again, have to avert to it, in its order, we leave it for the present. The carved figure of the youth represents him at twenty years of age. The countenance is finely wrought, and marks the innocencey and candor of the young heart. The open brow, the love-lighted eye, all exemplifying characteristics of that period of life, untrammeled with care or anxious thought. In his hair, well brought out from the solid wood, is intertwined the violet, the primrose, and the cow slip, emblematical of the season, being the springtime of life. In the right hand of the figure is attached a portion of a festoon of carved flowers, which connects it with the other four figures. The left hand is extended, pointing to manhood. This figure denotes the period when forty summers have ripened the man, and brought the noblest work of God to the stage of his more powerful intellect, his keener judgment, stronger frame, and more lasting energy. These characteristics are most admirably depicted. In his locks are carved the rose, the lily, the pink, and the carnation, the strawberry and the gooseberry, emblematical of the summertime of life. In the right hand the figure receives the festoon of flowers from youth, and in the left it supports the frame of the cabinet. The festoon is carried on to maturity, which represents the time when sixty years bring him to the period of decline. Its right hand assists with the left of that of manhood in supporting the cabinet. Encircling his brow are corn ears and wine cups, together with barley, wheat, grapes, and hops, the whole of which are most elaborately and finely chiseled. The hand of maturity points downward to old age. The furrowed brow, the sunken cheek, the dim and glassy eye, observable in this figure, conveys the mournful intelligence that the sand of life is fast approaching its last little grain. The bent form and the thoughtful brow tell that time, the consumer of all things, has also ravaged a once erect and powerful frame. The contemplation of this figure, beautifully executed as it is, intuitively inculcates a serious consideration of the value and blessings of a temperate and well-spent life. It induces a thoughtful reflection that a life of goodness alone ensures an end of peace. The holly, the mistletoe, the ivy, the acorn shell, the leafless branch and the fruitless vine encircle the brow-fit emblems of the period which marks an exchange of time for eternity. All the figures are rendered complete by a carved lion's foot at the bottom of each, and above the feet is a connecting frame, to make that portion of the stand perfect. Between the figures of spring and summer are carved flowers and fruit in great profusion, emblematical of the seasons and forming a fine piece of work. It represents the all-important fact that time flies, by an hour glass borne on the wings of a splendidly carved eagle, and suspending from the bird's beak are the letters curiously wrought, forming Tempest Fugit. This rests on a globe, representative of the earth, which is half sunk in a shell of water, overflowing the wheel of time, and shedding on fruit and flowers its refreshing dew. The space between the figures of autumn and winter is filled with carvings of the chrysanthemum, holly, ivy and autumn fruit, intertwined with consummate skill and taste. The garland or festoon which is carried through and sustained, as before stated by each of the four figures, is composed of every flower indigenous to this part of the land, and introduced emblematically to the time in which they severally bloom. Above the figures and resting on their heads is a stand or frame to receive the top part, containing the drawers, doors, etc., and is constructed in a peculiar manner on the bevel that the eye may easily rest on some beautiful lines from Thompson's seasons. Over the head of youth in this frame is a basket of strawberries, cherries, raspberries, and early fruit, surrounded with leaf work, enclosing a panel of needlework, covered with bent plate glass, and the motto, chief, lovely spring, in these and thy soft scenes the smiling god is seen. Then follows the carved figure representing summer. Over the head of it is a basket containing currants, strawberries, gooseberries, apples, pears, peaches, and other fruits, enriched with leaf work, the lily and the rose completing the center. Between the summer and autumn baskets and a panel are the following mottos, each season having one. Child of the sun, refulgent summer comes, in pride of youth, while autumn, nodding over the yellow plain, comes jovial on. Then follows the autumn basket, containing grapes, pears, filberts, etc., surrounded with leaf work. The panel of needlework next appears for winter with these lines. See, winter comes to rule the very year, sullen and sad. And over the head of the winter figure is placed a basket of walnuts, meddlers, etc. Here is the frame of the cabinet, which contains about eighty drawers in fine walnut wood, enriched with fuchsia drops in silver, and coral beads for drop handles. The woodwork is relieved with silvered plate glass, also small doors with plate glass for needlework in wildflowers. This completes the interior of the frame. The exterior represents three carved doors in fine relief. Over spring and summer is the convulvas, entwined around the frame, then follows the center door in fine relief, the grape vine, full of fruit, being very prominent. The door over autumn and winter is enriched with carvings of barley and hop wine. In each of these doors are pilasters forming four female figures holding in their hands the emblems of the seasons and a newly invented glass dome head in an elegant form for the protection of knitted flowers in Berlin wool. The woodwork is tastefully arranged, springing from each group of flowers over the heads of the female figures, with moldings to receive the bent plate glass, and is enriched with fine carvings of fruit and flowers. At the extreme top of this glass dome stands a beautiful figure of peace, with extended wings, bending over the globe, holding in one hand the olive branch, and with the other pointing to the deity. Having thus given a description of the carvings of this splendid cabinet, let me turn your attention to the enrichments in needlework, worked on black velvet from Nature by Miss Kingsbury. The mottos and frame for the different seasons are worked in floss silk of various colors. The inside doors, five in number, with wildflowers, and in front are rich specimens of raised embroidery extending to the inside and protected with plate glass. Miss Kingsbury is a young lady of Totten, who has made this kind of work her particular forte. Above the doors also are knitted flowers in Berlin wools, which fill the dome head and are protected with bent plate glass. Most every flower, as they bloom, are to be distinguished in these rich bouquets, with which the honeysuckle and passionflower are beautifully entwined. Now, what thank you of such a cabinet is this? Well, Charlie, there are scores and scores of objects as much deserving a full description as this. The department of machinery and steam power is entirely beyond my ability to speak of in proper terms. I have little mechanical genius, and never am more out of my element than when surrounded by flywheels, cylinders, and walking beams. If our friend Ike had been here, he would have been perfectly at home, and his pleasure and profit in this department would have surpassed any I could experience. I have only glanced at a few of the wonderful things in this wonderful place, and yet I have far exceeded the bounds of an ordinary letter. Yours affectionately, J-O-C. End of LETTER XVI, read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. LETTER XVII of Young Americans Abroad, or Vacation in Europe, travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Switzerland, edited by J-O-Chules. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. LETTER XVII, London, Dear Charlie One evening this week we spent very pleasantly at the Royal Polytechnic Institute for the Advancement of the Arts and Sciences in connection with agriculture and manufacturers. There is a large theatre where all sorts of lectures are delivered at various hours upon philosophical and other subjects. Lecturers occupy the theatre in succession and take up about half an hour. This are generally men of respectable abilities. The building is full of curiosities. We saw the model of the human ear about one hundred and forty times larger than the natural organ. We saw a diving bell in the Great Hall, which is frequently put into action, and visitors are allowed to descend. That evening several made the experiment. The interior of the bell is lighted by thick plate glass. A very large number of models are to be seen, and there is much to interest the spectator. We heard a fine lecture respecting the experiment of Foucault, by which the diurnal rotation of the earth is said to be rendered visible to the eye. Foucault is a young Parisian who, whilst engaged in some investigations with the pendulum in his mother's cellar, made this discovery, as he claims it to be. We saw the experiment repeated here on the same scale as it has been recently shown at the Pantheon in Paris. A brass sphere weighing about five pounds was suspended from the lofty ceiling by a piece of music wire and made to vibrate in one plane over a table graduated into degrees. After a few vibrations the direction of the pendulum appeared to be changed, as though the table had moved round on its own axis. We passed the hour at the Egyptian Hall to see the opening of the American Panorama of the Overland Route to California. It bids fair to make a hit in London. Last Sunday great exhibition sermons were abundant in London. Exeter Hall, the largest place in London, holding about five thousand persons, is to be used for three months for the performance of divine service to accommodate the strangers who crowd the city. We all went, Sunday evening, and heard the Reverend Thomas Binney, who has quite a reputation. The hall was as full as it could be, but we did not think the discourse as good as it might be. It was rather declamatory. You no doubt remember how much our curiosity was excited by hearing that Mr. Wilde was about to place the model of the globe of gigantic dimensions in the great exhibition. Well he was unable to obtain the space required, so he is erected a spacious building in Lester Square. This building is circular, with projecting entrances at the four cardinal points of the compass. From the center rises a graceful dome. Here is placed the model of the earth, fifty-six feet in diameter. The scale is about ten miles to an inch. The arrangement before used in the construction of globes is reversed in this case, and the continents, islands, and seas are seen on the inner surface. This seems like turning the world, not upside down, but inside out. The mountains and land are elevated to a scale. The spectators travel round the globe on winding staircases, at the distance of a few feet from the surface. I went the other morning to the model, but was far less interested than I expected. The rest of the party were not present, and are willing to take my report. I heard that Mr. Wilde has spent twelve thousand pounds upon his undertaking. We selected a fine afternoon to visit the zoological gardens in the Regents Park, and, of course, had a treat. I did not think much of the gardens as far as the horticulture was concerned, but the collection of animals was far beyond anything I had before witnessed. There are more than sixteen hundred specimens. The animals are finally housed, and their habits consulted in the arrangement of their homes. We had the pleasure to see the young elephant, only six months old, which had just been received. It was about the size of a donkey. A hippopotamus had recently been added to the collection, and we were sadly vexed not to see it. It was shut up at six o'clock, just as we reached its house. George had his luck, and obtained a glimpse of the retiring quadruped. We had been greatly amused with the sight of hundreds of boys about town, dressed in blue gowns, or long coats with belts, short knee breeches, yellow stockings, and shoes with tackles, but wear no caps or hats, in all weather they are bare-headed. I find that they are the boys belonging to Christ Hospital, a school founded by Edward VI in 1553, and generally known in London as the Blue Coat School. The scholars generally range from one thousand to twelve hundred. The education is said to be of the best character, and many of the boys belong to families of high respectability, and it is quite a matter of desire to obtain scholarship here. They look very funny in their old-fashioned rig.  The school is in Newgate Street, and is a fine modern edifice in the Tudor style. The front is flanked by towers, and has eight noble windows, which are separated by buttresses. Over one of the galleries of the hall is a fine picture by Holbein of Edward VI, granting the charter to the hospital, as it was then called. Some of the best scholars of England were educated here, and we remembered particularly Coleridge and our special favorite, Charles Lamb. Here we are to have a treat of the highest kind. We are to spend the day at Windsor. I feel pretty well acquainted with its history and associations, but I shall spend the evening with George in brushing up my information. There is nothing more unpleasant than to find yourself in the presence of things and places of which you painfully feel entire ignorance. If we ever meet again, how much we shall have to chat over on our favorite topics. Yours always, James. Letter 18 London, Dear Charlie It was a fine, clear morning when we started for Windsor by railroad, a distance of twenty-one miles. The country is fine, but our thoughts were on the castle. At Slough we took an omnibus and rode into the town. It is a pretty quiet place of about ten thousand inhabitants. There are some six or seven streets, and they present but few attractions. The castle is everything. You know this has been the favorite residence of most of the English monarchs, and the scene of many a tournament in the days of chivalry. The castle was the work of William the Conqueror. John lived at Windsor while Magna Carta was extorted from him by his barons at Brunymede. Henry III did a great deal to the castle, but Edward III invested it with its great glory. This was his native place. The architect he employed was the famous William of Wickham, Bishop of Winchester, a man of great genius. He built the noble round tower. This was in 1315. William built him a palace worthy of the hero, and his noble son, the Black Prince. Edward IV built St. George's Chapel, and Henry VII and Henry VIII both made important additions to the fortress. Young Edward VI resided here, and did not like its retirement in gloom. Elizabeth made the terrace and other improvements. When Charles II was restored, he brought a foreign taste to the improvement of the castle, and a great deal of elegance he was attempted, but which poorly harmonized with the gothic, baronial style of Wickham's works. George IV was a man of exquisite taste, and he employed Sir Geoffrey Wyattville to carry out the plans of Edward III and his architect. This was in 1824, and his immense labors have been successful. These improvements cost two million pounds sterling. I ought to say that Windsor Castle was the favorite home of George III, who died here. This palace stands on a lofty chalk hill and commands the valley of the Thames. Around it is the finest terrace in the world, the descent from which is faced with a rampart of free stone extending about 1700 feet. The whole building occupies about twelve acres. I shall not describe all the towers, for there are some dozen or fifteen. The round tower of Edward III is the chief one. Here he revived the round table of King Arthur and established the order of the garter. From the battlements of this strong fortress you gaze upon no less than twelve counties. Prince Albert is the constable of this tower. This was the old prison or donjon of the castle. Here James I of Scotland was a prisoner, and here he wrote his sweet verses and celebrated nature's beauties and the praises of his lady-love Jane Beaufort. Here too Henry Howard, Earl of Surrey, long suffered and sung the sweetest laze. He had a ticket to see the State Apartments. Suffice it to say, we went through the Queen's Audience Chamber, the Van Dyke Room, the Queen's State Drawing Room or Zuccarel Room, the State Anter Room, the Grand Staircase and the Vestibule, the Waterloo Chamber, the Grand Ballroom, St. George's Hall, the Guard Chamber, the Queen's Presence Chamber. All these are very, very beautiful. I was delighted with the Van Dyke Room. Here are twenty-two undoubted productions of this greatest of portrait painters. Charles I and Henrietta were favorite subjects with the artist. Here are several of them and their children, and they are to be found elsewhere. The equestrian portrait of Charles I is truly a grand picture. You know the beautiful old copy of a cabinet-size which we have in the study at home. It will please me more than ever, since I know how faithful it is. That Queen of Charles's who made him so much trouble with her potpoury and temper was a wonderfully beautiful woman. I should not soon be weary of looking at her portrait. She was daughter of Henry IV of France. Her fortune was hard to lose a father by an assassin and a husband by the executioner. The goblin tapestry illustrating the life of Esther in the audience room is very rich. In the State Anter Room are the most wonderful carvings of fowl, fish, fruit, and flowers by Greenling Gibbons. They are thought to be unsurpassed in this Department of Art. On the Great Staircase is a noble colossal marble statue of that excellent sovereign but bad man, George IV. It is by Chantry. The Waterloo Chamber is adorned with thirty-eight portraits of men connected with Waterloo, and twenty-nine of them are by Sir Thomas Lawrence. St. George's Hall is two hundred feet long, thirty-four wide, thirty-two high, and contains some fine portraits of sovereigns by Van Dyke, Lely, Kneller, Gainsborough, and Lawrence. On twenty-four shields are the arms of each sovereign of the Order of the Garter, from Edward III to William IV. The guard chamber is a noble room, eighty feet in length. Immediately on entering we were struck with the colossal bust of Nelson by Chantry. A piece of the mast of the victory, shot through by Cannonball, forms its fitting pedestal. After two we saw the busts of the Great Duke of Marlborough by Rissbuck, and the Duke of Wellington by Chantry, and their two banners by the annual presentation of which to the reigning sovereign, on the anniversaries of Blenheim and Waterloo, they hold the estates of Blenheim and Strathfields, say. There are figures in armor representing the Duke of Brunswick, 1530, Lord Howard, 1588, Earl of Essex, 1596, Charles I, when Prince of Wales, 1620, and Prince Rupert, 1635. These suits of armor are the genuine ones which were worn by these characters in their lifetime. One thing greatly delighted me. It was the gorgeous shield executed by Benvenuto Salini, and presented by Francis I to Henry VIII at the Field of the Cloth of Gold. The workmanship is entirely beyond anything I had imagined possible for delicacy of finish. I hardly wonder that kings used to quarrel for the residents of this artist. I know, Charlie, you are impatient to hear about St. George's Chapel, of which you have so often expressed your admiration, when we have looked at the beautiful engravings of its interior at home. It is very fine, and should be seen to be comprehended. It is of what is called the perpendicular Gothic style. The interior is divided by a screen and organ gallery into the body of the church and the choir. These have side aisles, and in these are five separate little chapels. Two of these make up the place of transeps, and the other three, and the chapter house, form abutments at each angle of the chapel. Now I think you can't fail to get an idea of the building. The choir is filled with the stalls and banners of the Knights of the Garter. Each night has his banner, helmet, crest, and sword. The great pointed window was designed by our countrymen, Benjamin West. The altarpiece was painted by West. Here is the tomb of Edward IV, 1483. He lies under a slab of black marble. In 1789 some workmen discovered his lead coffin, and it was opened, and the skeleton was in good preservation, and measured seven feet in length. Horace Walpole obtained a lock of his hair at this time. Here are the graves of Henry VI and of Henry VIII and his queen, Jane Seymour, also of Charles I. Lord Byron says of Henry VIII's tomb, famed for contemptuous breach of sacred ties, by headless Charles, see heartless Henry lies. On the 1st of April, 1813, the coffin of Charles I was found in Henry VIII's tomb, and I think you will be pleased with an account of what transpired. I shall therefore copy a paper which is authentic. On completing the mausoleum, which his present majesty has built in the tomb-house, as it is called, it was necessary to form a passage to it from under the choir of St. George's Chapel. When constructing this passage, an aperture was made accidentally in one of the walls of the vault of King Henry VIII, through which the workmen were unable to see not only the two coffins which were supposed to contain the bodies of King Henry VIII and Queen Jane Seymour, but a third, also, covered with a black velvet pawl, which, from Mr. Herbert's narrative, might fairly be presumed to hold the remains of King Charles I. On representing the circumstance to the Prince Regent, his royal highness perceived at once that a doubtful point in history might be cleared up by opening this vault, and accordingly his royal highness ordered an examination to be made on the first convenient opportunity. This was done on the 1st of April, 1813, the day after the funeral of the Duchess of Brunswick, in the presence of his royal highness himself, who guaranteed thereby the most respectful care and attention to the remains of the dead during the inquiry. His royal highness was accompanied by his royal highness the Duke of Cumberland, Count Munster, the Dean of Windsor, Benjamin Charles Stevenson Esquire, and Sir Henry Halford. The vault is covered by an arch half a breadth in thickness, is seven feet, two inches in width, nine feet, six inches in length, and four feet, ten inches in height, and is situated in the center of the choir opposite the eleventh night's stall on the sovereign side. On removing the pall, a plain leaden coffin, with no appearance of ever having been enclosed in wood, and bearing an inscription, King Charles 1648, in large, legible characters, on a scroll of lead encircling it, immediately presented itself to the view. A square opening was then made in the upper part of the lid, of such dimensions as to admit a clear insight into its contents. These were an internal wooden coffin, very much decayed, and the body carefully wrapped up in carecloth into the folds of which a quantity of unxious or greasy matter mixed with resin, as it seemed, had been melted, so as to exclude as effectually as possible the external air. The coffin was completely full, and, from the tenacity of the carecloth, great difficulty was experienced in detaching it successfully from the parts which it developed. Wherever the unxious matter had insinuated itself, the separation of the carecloth was easy, and when it came off a correct impression of the features to which it had been applied was observed in the unxious substance. At length the whole face was disengaged from its covering. The complexion of the skin of it was dark and discolored. The forehead and temples had lost little or nothing of their muscular substance. The cartilage of the nose was gone, but the left eye, in the first moment of exposure, was open and full, though it vanished almost immediately, and the pointed beard, so characteristic of the reign of King Charles, was perfect. The shape of the face was a long oval. Many of the teeth remained, and the left ear, in consequence of the interposition of some unxious matter between it and the carecloth, was found in tire. It was difficult at this moment to withhold a declaration that, notwithstanding its disfigurement, the countenance did bear a strong resemblance to the coins, the busts, and especially to the picture of King Charles I by Van Dyke, by which it had been made familiar to us. It is true that the minds of the spectators of this interesting sight were well prepared to receive this impression, but it is also certain that such a facility of belief had been occasioned by the simplicity and truth of Mr. Herbert's narrative, every part of which had been confirmed by the investigation so far as it had advanced, and it will not be denied that the shape of the face, the forehead, and eye, and the beard are the most important features by which resemblance is determined. When the head had been entirely disengaged from the attachments which confined it, it was found to be loose, and without any difficulty was taken up and held to view. It was quite wet and gave a greenest red tinge to paper and linen which touched it. The back part of the scalp was entirely perfect, and had a remarkably fresh appearance, the pores of the skin being more distinct, as they usually are when soaked in moisture, and the tendons and ligaments of the neck were of considerable substance and firmness. The hair was thick at the back part of the head, and in appearance nearly black. A portion of it, which has since been cleaned and dried, is of a beautiful dark brown color. That of the beard was of a redder brown. On the back part of the head it was about an inch in length, and had probably been cut so short for the convenience of the executioner, or perhaps in order to furnish memorials of the unhappy king. When holding up the head to examine the place of separation from the body, the muscles of the neck had evidently retracted themselves considerably, and the fourth cervical vertebra was found to be cut through its substance transversely, leaving the surfaces of the divided portions perfectly smooth and even, an appearance which could only have been produced by heavy blow inflicted with a very sharp instrument, and which furnished the last proof wanting to identify Charles I. After this examination, which served every purpose and view, and without examining the body below the neck, it was immediately restored to its situation, the coffin was soldered up again, and the vault closed. This state of things precisely tallied with the account which Herbert, the faithful servant of Charles, had given as to the place of his sepulchre. In this chapel, too, is the cenotaph of the late Princess Charlotte, who was wife to Leopold, now king of Belgium. I do not much admire it. The exquisite beauty of the windows and the gorgeous splendor of the roof will always make this place live in my memory. The terraces are very beautiful walks, and from Queen Elizabeth's terrace you have a noble view of Eaton College. Of course we were pleased to see the distant spires and antique towers which are so celebrated in the lines of gray. The college looms up finely and greatly adds to the prospect. Eaton was founded in 1440 by Henry VI. The number of scholars is about eight hundred and fifty. This college has produced some of the greatest men in England, and the young nobility are generally educated here. The college has two quadrangles, and the chapel is a fine gothic building. All this region is beautified by the Thames winding through the valley. Here is the gem of villages, Dachet, where Sir Henry Watten and Isaac Walton used to enjoy the rod and line. No one who has any taste can come to Windsor and not think of the immortal bard who has made so much capital out of this place. At all events we wanted to see Herne's oak. We took a carriage and passed the day in riding through the Great Park, and took our way through the well-known avenue called the Long Walk. This is three miles in length and has a double row of magnificent elms. It is directly in front of the south side of the castle, and terminates in a colossal equestrian statue of George III, standing on an immense pedestal of blocks of granite. Nothing can exceed in beauty the beaches of this park, which contains 3,000 acres. Immense herds of deer are seen under the trees. Nowhere have I seen such fine old trees. Here is a beech tree thirty-six feet round, seven feet from the ground. One oak of similar size is called William the Conqueror's oak. We went to Virginia Water, the largest sheet of water, that is, artificial, in Great Britain. We saw the little cottage where George IV passed so much of his time. It is a pretty place, but it only shows that the mind is more likely to be pleased with the simple than the grand. The gardener at the cottage, which I think is called Cumberland Lodge, showed us through the conservatory. We did not much admire the fishing temple or the floating miniature navy. The scenery is charming and worthy of poussin. The walk by the water to the tavern cannot be surpassed. On our return we passed Frogmore, the residence of the Duchess of Kent. It seems a pretty, unpretending place. Everything would repay the tourists better than to pass three or four days in this vicinity. Village after village, and villa after villa, claims the admiration of the traveler, and perhaps England has no more beautiful rural scenery than may here be found. We had seven or eight hours of perfect delight upon our ride, and when we reached the White Heart at Windsor, we were well prepared for doing justice to an excellent dinner. Our pleasure at Windsor was much increased by the company of a gentleman of high literary reputation, and who is distinguished as the author of several successful works. Affectionately yours, Weld. Letter 19 of Young Americans Abroad or Vacation in Europe Travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Prussia and Switzerland, edited by J. O. Choules, read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 19, London, Dear Charlie We are just returned from a most pleasant visit to Sir John Sloan's Museum. This gentleman was an architect and a most determined antiquary, and when he died he left his wonderful collection to the nation, having obtained an active parliament for preserving it and endowing its maintenance. We obtained a government order and went to the house which was Sir John's private residence in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Never did I behold such a sight.  Here are Roman and Grecian relics, fragments of vases from Herculaneum, and the far famed Egyptian sarcophagus brought over by Belzoni. The latter is made of one piece of alabaster, nearly ten feet long. It is inscribed all over with hieroglyphics, and costs Sir John a large sum. I shall see nothing in Europe that will take my fancy as much as this museum, I am sure. There are twenty-five distinct apartments, and if you can find a square foot in the house not occupied, you would do more than I was able to. The catalogue of this museum I shall value highly, and that will give you a better idea than I can of its contents. I had no common pleasure in finding here the original paintings of the rake's progress by Hogarth, the engravings of which we have so admired. These pictures were painted in 1734, and were bought by Sir Jay Sohn in 1802 for five hundred and seventy guineas. And here, too, are Hogarth's great paintings of the election, a series of four pictures. These unrivaled works of comic art were bought of Garrick's widow by Sohn in 1823 for sixteen hundred and fifty guineas. The collection of paintings is by no means despicable, and we saw a few pictures not soon to be forgotten. The views of Venice, by Canaletti, are very fine, and there are some gems by Reynolds, Danby, Turner, Hamilton, Lawrence, and Byrd. I must tell you how they have economized room in the apartment devoted to pictures. The ceiling is very richly adorned with ornaments, forming arched canopies. On the north and west sides of this room are cabinets, and on the south are movable planes, with space between for pictures. So in a room of thirteen feet eight inches by twelve feet four inches there are as many pictures as could be placed on the walls of a gallery of the same height, forty-five feet long and twenty broad. In the crypt is an ancient tomb and models in cork of tombs at Capua. There are some precious souvenirs of Napoleon to be seen, as portraits, miniatures, pistols, and et cetera, a fine collection of painted glass, and a countless lot of antiques, intaglios, autographs, and watches. If ever you find yourself in London, I charge you to get to this same place for a long morning. In the afternoon we took a steamer and went to Greenwich, five miles from town, to see the hospital for semen. Charles II built this place for a royal palace, and a noble one it is, but William and Mary gave it up to the use of old and worn-out semen, and as England owes everything to Jack Tarr it seems fit that, when old and crazy, his last days should be made comfortable. A very large income arises from the exhibition of the fine picture gallery here to be seen.  The coat and waistcoat worn by Nelson when he was killed on the victory at Trafalgar, models of celebrated ships, original paintings of Sir Walter Raleigh, Sir Clowsley Shovel, who was lost with all his crew on the Silly Islands, in Queen Anne's Reign, Admiral Kempenfeld, lost in the Royal George, 1782, Lord Nelson, Lord Collingwood, and almost all the great naval commanders of Great Britain. Then, too, there are large paintings of the great sea-fights. One of Trafalgar by Turner is very fine, and so is a large one of Nelson's death. There is a room besides all I have alluded to called the Nelson Room, and which illustrates all his history, and there are, all about the rooms, some exquisitely fine colossal busts, executed by Flaxman, Bailey, and Westmaccott. The chapel is thought to be one of the most beautiful in England. The entire of this great national glory is kept in the cleanest manner, and the only thing to complain of is a want to pull lightness in the guides. This is in contrast to other places, for we have found the guides very kind and civil at all other places. We have recently visited the Queen's stables by order from Mr. Lawrence. The kitchen was very clean and spacious. Some of the horses were exceedingly beautiful. The harness room made a display. The cream-colored horses belonging to the state carriage are noble animals. I believe they are brought from Hanover, or came originally Vince. The state carriage is an immense, lumbering affair made of carvings and gold. It must be of great weight. The sides are richly painted. It is never used but at the opening of Parliament in similar occasions. The Queen's carriages which are ordinarily used are numerous and very elegant but in good taste. One of our number, you may guess who it was, sadly wanted a hair from the tale of the Queen's favorite riding horse. The riding school is spacious but not much better than a private one that we all know in New York. We took dinner one day at Sawyer's Symposium at Gore House. Sawyer is the great master of ceremonies in London for all matters of the cuisine. Gore House was once the home of Wilberforce and Lord Rodney, but is better known as the residence of the late Countess of Blessington. It is now a hotel. The grounds are extensive and the trees are some of the finest around London, and I have never seen a lovelier spot of the same size. It is alive with blackbirds, thrushes, linens, and gold finches. As you enter you find a vestibule which is called the cupola of Jupiter tonans. Through this you pass to the Hall of Architectural Wonders, then to the Blessington Temple of the Muses. This apartment leads to the Transatlantic Anti-Chamber, which is adorned with all sorts of American emblems. Then there are, in secession, the alcove of white roses, the birth of gems, and other rooms of great gorgeousness. One room is the Palace of the North, which is apparently made entirely of ice, and out of the wall of which is issuing a polar bear. In the Pleasure Gardens is a baronial hall, one hundred feet long, fifty broad, and thirty high, and besides this an enormous tent, called the encampment for all nations. Here at a table four hundred feet long fifteen hundred persons can be dined at a cheap rate. A tablecloth for this affair cost Sawyer two hundred pounds sterling. We had a very pleasant dinner with the Reverend Dr. Harris, president of New College, whose works are so well known in America. The room we occupied was the alcove of the white roses. The symposium stands near to the Crystal Palace and accommodates the strangers admirably. That dinner was two days ago, however I am reminded that another is necessary today, and must leave off to prepare for it. I am yours truly, James. Letter 20 of Young Americans Abroad, or Vacation in Europe, travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Prussia and Switzerland, edited by J. O. Choules, read for Librebox.org into the public domain. Letter 20 London Dear Charlie Yesterday we visited the two great ecclesiastical edifices of the Metropolis, St. Paul's Cathedral and Westminster Abbey, and I will endeavour to convey to your mind some idea of the impression which they left upon my own. These structures are by name familiar to you, and you have seen engravings of the mighty dome of St. Paul's and the double towers of the Abbey. I had often gazed on these pictured representations, but I find that they did not convey to my mind any adequate notions of the originals. Like the pyramids, or our own Niagara, they must be seen to be understood. In so vast a place as London it is absolutely necessary for sightseers to adopt something like a system in their arrangements. So we agreed to devote one day to the examination of the Metropolitan Cathedral Church, and of the ancient edifice in which the monarchs of England are crowned. We quitted our hotel at nine o'clock, and pushing our way through the hurrying crowds of the Strand speedily arrived at the temple bar. We then turned down a dingy, narrow passage on our right hand. This led us to the temple, which is like a little town of itself, and is almost exclusively inhabited by lawyers. It was amusing enough to notice the gentleman in powdered horsehair wigs and flowing black robes, like a clergyman's, who every now and then emerged from some open door, and flitted across the courts, each having a bundle of papers tied with a red tape or a book under his arm. Whilst occupied in observing these Templars of modern times, the tones of an organ fell on my ear, for we were close to the temple church, one of the most beautiful sanctuaries in the world. The early morning service was not concluded, so we entered without ceremony. Externally the building has little in the way of architectural decorations to recommend it. It is low, destitute of tower or sepul, and surrounded by gloomy looking lawyers' offices. But no sooner had we crossed the threshold than a scene of surpassing beauty burst upon us. I should here tell you that this edifice, which is intended for the exclusive use of members of the temple, is very ancient. The church formerly belonged to the night's Templars. It was built in 1185, and the choir was added in 1240. For years and years the building was neglected by the legal gentleman, but in 1839 it was proposed to restore the former glories of the place, and the outlay of seventy thousand pounds has caused it to stand out in all its pristine beauty. The form of the church is octagonal. The ceilings, sides, and altar are all decorated in the medieval style. The pipes of the organ dazzle you with their purple and golden splendors. The floor is of encaustic tiles. On the walls are displayed the names and coats of arms of those members of the temple who have been raised to the dignity of judges. On all these objects the sunshine, streaming through superbly painted windows, produced quite a kaleidoscope effect. The coup d'oeuvre was almost too dazzling and strikingly contrasted in my mind with the primitive simplicity of our New England churches. In this church I found that some great men had been buried. The learned Sir John Selden, the author of Table Talk, Howell, whose old letters we have so much enjoyed together, Gibbon, the historian, and Oliver Goldsmith, lie just outside the church. The preacher of this church is called the Master of the Temple, and the great hooker once held this post. Having gratified our curiosity by an inspection of this gem of church architecture, we quitted the building, and after a pleasant stroll through the temple gardens, a sweet spot, and spoken of by Shakespeare as the place where the distinction of the red and white roses was first seen, embarked on one of the river steamboats which rapidly conveyed us to Blackfriars Bridge. The finest view of St. Paul's Cathedral is, unquestionably, from the Thames. When seen from the streets, only portions of its colossal magnitude can be observed. On all sides it is hemmed in by houses, which, pygmies though they be, prevent an uninterrupted view of the architectural giant. But from the middle of the Thames the Cathedral is seen in all its glory, towering above the surrounding marts of trade. It stands out the grand point of attraction. Here may be observed to advantage the surpassing beauty of the great dome, which dwarves the towers and steeples of the surrounding churches almost into nothingness. The general aspect of the cathedral is said to resemble St. Peter's at Rome, but the symmetry of the dome of the latter is acknowledged to be less beautiful than that of its London rival. We landed at Blackfriars Bridge Stairs, and after ascending Ludgate Hill, arrived at the great northern door of the cathedral. In reply to the wrap of our knuckles at the huge portals, it slowly swung back on its hinges, and a grim, surly-looking face appeared. The figure which belonged to the face was clad in a rusty and seedy black robe, from beneath which a hand was thrust forth, and the words, Two Pence Each, sounded harcely on our ears. Two Pence Each was accordingly paid, and then the surly janitor, or verger, as he is called, admitted us within the building. In a moment afterwards we were beneath the dome of St. Paul's. If this part of the edifice has appeared imposing when viewed from without, how much grander did it seem now that we stood on the marble pavement below, and gazed upward into the vast concave which the genius of Sir Christopher Renn had designed. The scene, to my mind, was most impressive, and the impressiveness was heightened by a continuous dull roar, which never ceased for a moment. This ceaseless noise was produced by the numerous carriages passing and repassing without. The concavity of the dome, I suppose, condensed the sound into a subdued thunder, like that which one hears at a short distance from the Falls of Niagara. Against the huge pillars and in various niches were the statues of eminent men, some of them erected by the nation as a commemoration of naval or military services, and others as tributes to great personal worth, or to public benefactors. Among the statues of the men of peace, that of Dr. Samuel Johnson, the great luxographer, particularly interested me. The celebrated moralist is represented seated. One hand holds a scroll, the other rests upon a pedestal. The likeness is said to be well preserved. The sculptor was vacant. There was the capacious forehead, the thick and bushy eyebrows, the large mouth, the double chin, the clumsy person, and the thick, ungainly legs, which had been rendered familiar to me through the portraits which I had seen in the Johnsonia. As I gazed on that marble tribute to genius and worth, I could not but remember, Charlie, how Johnson had frequently walked the streets of London all night, because he had not the wherewithal to pay for lodging. Near to Johnson's monument was that of Howard, the philanthropist. He noticed a very fine one to Sir Joshua Reynolds, also statues to Bishop Heber, Abercrombie, Cornwallis, Sir John Moore, Sir Astley Cooper, Sir Thomas Lawrence, and Benjamin West. But the greatest attraction of St. Paul's is the sarcophagus, in which reposes the remains of England's greatest naval hero, Lord Nelson, situated immediately beneath the center of the great dome is a diamond-shaped tablet, which marks the spot beneath which rests, after his career of glory, the hero of the Nile and Trafalgar. His body rests in a sarcophagus in the vaults below. Exactly beneath the tablet lies the huge coffin, with the name Nelson engraving on its side. No epitaph, no labored panagiric, no fulsome praise, and Englishmen, I think, were right in supposing that the simple name of their hero was enough for fame. This sarcophagus was made by Cardinal Woolsey, and here Nelson was placed in a coffin made out of the main mast of the French ship L'Orient. The grim verger recommended us to ascend to the dome, and after paying fresh fees, we mounted an enormously long and steep winding staircase, which led us to the base of the dome. Here was a circular gallery, surrounded with a railing. Scarcely had we entered this gallery, when the attendant purposely slammed the entrance door and immediately allowed peel as of thunder reverberated through the vast building. Then he requested us to listen whilst he whispered against the smooth wall directly opposite to us. The effect was startling. Every word was as distinct as though the speaker's lips had been close to my ear. This is known as the Whispering Gallery and is one of the great lions of the place. We now prepared to ascend still higher, and after a tedious journey arrived at the gilded gallery, which surmounts the dome. From hence we enjoyed a magnificent view of London, for fortunately the atmosphere was comparatively clear and the everlasting canopy of smoke which overhangs London was not so dense as usual. Spread out before us lay the great wilderness of brick and mortar through which the shining Thames, like a huge snake, pursued its sinuous course, spanned at intervals by bridges, and bearing on its broad bosom the gathered treasures of many a far distant nation. The streets, diminished to mere lanes, looked alive with the Lepushans. Miniature horses and carriages appeared like so many German automaton toys which had been wound up instead of going. Far away to the westward patches of green studded with trees denoted the parks, in one of which glittered the glass roof and sides of the Crystal Palace, and still more remote were glimpses of the free, fresh, open country, along which, at intervals, would rush railway trains, bearing hundreds of passengers to various parts of England. Above my head glittered in the brilliant sunshine, the ball and cross which, at height of four hundred and four feet, stands proudly over London, and may be seen from various parts of the metropolis. Another feast secured our passage to the interior of this globe of gilded copper, which is about six feet in diameter, and will hold several persons. To reach it I had to ascend a ladder and creep through an aperture at the bottom of the sphere. This was not worth the labour, but then we could say we had attained the highest point of the cathedral. I hear that ladies sometimes venture into the ball, if so their timidity is insufficient to baffle their curiosity. Disaccomplished we re-terrised our steps and visited the portion of St. Paul's in which divine services performed. About a dozen boys, dressed in white surpluses, were chanting sweetly. A dull-looking clergyman read the service indifferently, and a score of poor people, with one or two well-dressed persons, formed the congregation. We then departed for Westminster Abbey, which must form the subject of another letter. Yours affectionately, Weld. End of Letter 20, read by Cibela Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 21 of Young Americans Abroad, or Vacation in Europe, travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Prussia, and Switzerland, edited by J. O. Choules. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 21, London, Dear Charlie. What shall I tell you about Westminster Abbey? I hope I may be able to say enough to make you long to see it, and determine you to read all you can about it. By the way, I have satisfied myself that I can learn the best things about such places by carefully reading good histories, and examining the best engravings. This abbey claims to have been built in 616 by a Saxon king. It was enlarged by Edgar and Edward the Confessor, and was rebuilt as it now appears by Henry III and Edward I. In this church all the sovereigns of England have been crowned, from Edward the Confessor down to Victoria, and not a few of them have been buried here. The architecture, accepting Henry VII's chapel, is of the early English school. Henry's chapel is of the perpendicular Gothic. The western towers were built by Sir Christopher Wren. We entered at the door leading to the poet's corner. We gazed with interest on the monuments of Chatham, Pitt, Fox, and Canning, Prince Rupert, Monk, Chaucer, Spencer, Beaumont, Fletcher, Ben Johnson, Cowley, Dryden, Dr. Watts, Addison, Gay, Sheridan, and Campbell. Here, too, are tablets to Barrow, South, Garak, Handel, Clarendon, Bishop Atterbury, Sir Isaac Newton, and Old Parr, who died at the age of 152. The associations of this building are everything to the stranger. I will give you a list of names of the kings and queens buried here. Siebert, Edward the Confessor, Henry III, Edward I, Queen Eleanor, Edward III, and his queen, Philippa, Richard II, and his queen. Henry V, Henry VII, and his queen. Anne of Cleves, queen of Henry VIII. Edward VI, Bloody Mary, Mary, Queen of Scots. Queen Elizabeth, James I, and his queen, queen of Bohemia, Charles II, William III, and Mary, Queen Anne, George II, and Queen Caroline. We took the circuit of the chapels, beginning with St. Benedict. Here many eminent churchmen have been interred. The next is St. Edmunds, which contains 20 monuments. The monument of the Earl of Pembroke, brother of Henry III, he died 1278. Here, too, are tombs of children of Edward II and Edward III. I noticed a very fine brass monument, which represents a Duchess of Gloucester in her dresses and none, dated 1399. There is, too, the effigy of the Duchess of Suffolk, mother of poor Lady Jane Gray. The third is St. Nicholas's Chapel, where is seen Lord Burley's monument. The fourth is the Virgin Mary's Chapel, called Henry VII's Chapel, and the ascent to which is by 12 or 14 steps. This glorious room consists of a central aisle, with five small chapels and two side aisles. Here you see the stalls and banners of the Knights of the Bath who were formerly installed in this chapel. The altar tomb of Henry VII is truly beautiful. Lord Bacon said it is one of the costliest and daintiest tombs in Europe. Here are the tombs of his mother and the mother of Lord George Darnley and Mary, Queen of Scots, and the Duke of Buckingham, Queen Elizabeth, and Queen Mary. Here, too, is a sarcophagus, which is supposed to contain the remains of Edward V and the Duke of York, discovered in the tower in the 17th century in a box. Charles II, William and Mary, and Queen Anne are in a vault on the south aisle. George II and his Queen, Caroline, lie together, a side being taken out of each coffin. The fifth chapel is St. Paul's. The most striking object here is a colossal portrait statue of James Watt, the great steam engine perfecter, if not inventor. This is by Chantry and costs 6,000 pounds and seems quite out of place. Archbishop Usher lies in this chapel. The sixth chapel, called Edward the Confessor's, pleased me greatly. In the center is the shrine of the monarch saint. It is rich in mosaic ornaments. The altar tomb of Henry III is very grand and there is a noble, bronze statue of the king. Edward I is here and in 1774 his body was found almost entire. Edward III and Philippa, his queen, have tombs. Here, too, was Henry V, the hero of Agincourt, Richard II and Queen. We were delighted with the two coronation chairs in one is the old stone of scone on which the early Scotch kings used to be crowned. Edward I carried it off and it has ever since figured in English coronations. It is a large piece of red and gray sandstone and claims to have been the veritable pillow on which Jacob slept. The seventh chapel is that of St. Erasmus and leads to the eighth, which is John the Baptist's. Here rest the early abbots of the church. It contains very fine monuments to Lord Hunston, Chamberlain to Queen Bess. Just outside in the aisle we found the noble monument to General Wolfe and the celebrated work of Robiak in the memory of Mrs. Nightingale where death is seen throwing his dart at the wife who falls into her husband's arms.  Robiak was a wonderful genius and his monument to Sir Peter Warren is exquisite. The works of Bacon, Flaxman, Nolikens, Chantry and West Maccott have made me in love with statuary and I long to see the great works which are to be seen on the continent. Many of the tablets and statues are only honorary as the persons commemorated were not buried here as Shakespeare, Sothe, Thompson, Goldsmith, Dr. Watts, et cetera. I could spend hours looking at Robiak's monument for the Duke of Argyle and his statue for handle. We attended divine service one Sunday afternoon and heard a very fine sermon from Lord John Thine. The abbey was crowded, the music the best I ever heard in a church, the preacher was quite eloquent and Dr. C. observed that it was the most evangelical sermon he had heard in England. The subject was on justification by faith. I may forget many things that I shall see on our travels, but I think that this abbey will never vanish from my recollection. I shall always remember the very position of these great works of art and genius and I am more than repaid for all the labor of a voyage. Yours affectionately, Weld. End of Letter 21, read by Cibela Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 22 of Young Americans Abroad, or Vacation in Europe, travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Prussia and Switzerland, edited by J.O. Choules, read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 22, London, Dear Charlie. No one comes to London without being told by everyone to go and see the parks, so we have been to see these fine breathing places. Hyde Park is about 400 acres and has as many as half a dozen great entrances. Its position is high and it is the great drive of the people of fashion. If you want to see London, you must come here on a fine summer day in June at about four o'clock and you will gaze on the finest and gayest equipages of England. A very pretty piece of water is in this park, which is called the Serpentine River. The best skating of London is to be seen here, we are told in hard winters. The entrance from Piccadilly is by a fine three-fold arch. Here is the great Achilles of Bronze in honor of Wellington, made out of the cannon which the Duke captured in Spain. St. James's and the Green Park, this is the oldest in London and was made by Henry VIII. A fine arch affords entrance from Piccadilly, having a bronze colossal equestrian statue of the Duke of Wellington. You get grand views of the Abbey Towers, Buckingham Palace, the York Column, and other objects of interest. The two parks are about 150 acres. Regent's Park is one of the most attractive spots on this great city. Here are villas of the finest kind. Some of the prettiest terraces and rows of houses about London are here to be seen. This park contains nearly 500 acres and, among other attractions, the botanical and zoological gardens and the Coliseum. Victoria Park near Bethnal Green is a new one of about 300 acres but we did not visit it. Besides these there are more than 30 squares, some of which are very beautiful and are finely planted and adorned. Belgrave Square is exceedingly rich in its appearance. The houses are built in the Corinthian order. Northumberland House, Charing Cross, is the city residence of the Duke of Northumberland. This externally has no great beauty but is surrounded by the lion of the Percy family. It was built in 1605. This noble mansion has been politely opened by its proprietor to the visits of the foreigners who are here at the exhibition. It is a princely mansion and although we had recently been to Windsor and seen the royal residence, yet we thought this palace home almost regal in its splendor. The staircases splendid and the apartments are very magnificent. The hall and drawing rooms are quite equal in decorations and paintings to the rooms at Windsor. We are much pleased with two large pictures, a fox and deer hunt by Sniders, but there were so many that it is difficult to single out those we admired. There are some beautiful paintings of Napoleon and exquisite carvings and ivory. In one of the saloons, we were all struck with a large Sever's China vase presented to the Duke of Northumberland by Charles the Tenth at his coronation, at which occasion the Duke was present as Ambassador Extraordinary and made a most astonishing display of English wealth and liberality. Sion House near Brentford is another palace belonging to the Duke. This noble mansion is on the banks of the Thames and is composed of freestone. It is very gorgeously furnished and the hot houses and conservatories are not much, if any, inferior to Chatsworth. This mansion has also been open to visitors from abroad and we received orders from the minister. One of the sweetest features about the metropolis to my taste is the vast number of charming villages that surround it. Go where you may, you fall in with cottages, villas, and mansions that convey to the mind the ideas of comfort, elegance, and wealth. I find from Weld that he forgot to tell you that we went to St. Margaret's Church, which stands only a few yards off from Westminster Abbey. This is a very old building and said to be of the days of Edward I. In this very building, the celebrated fast day sermons of the long parliament were preached and I felt much interest in thinking how often Cromwell, Pym, Peters, and Harrison had worshiped God in that house. In this church, too, the assembly of divines worshiped and also the Scotch commissioners and took the covenant. This church boasts a painted window of exquisite beauty which came as a present from Holland to Henry VII and the historical associations of this window are very curious and well worth your reading about. The monuments of this sanctuary are far from being devoid of interest. I may name, among others, those to Caxton, Sir Walter Wally, Sir James Harrington, author of the great book, Oceana, the wife of Milton, the mother of Cromwell, all of whom are here interred. While I am speaking of churches, let me tell you that Close By Our Hotel is a very fine one that pleases me exceedingly. It is called St. Martin's in the Fields, but is at present quite central as regards the metropolis. I think the portico is, to my eye, equal to any piece of architecture in London. It was built in 1726. A church stood here for many centuries and in 1680 Baxter said that 40,000 people of the parish could not get into the church and he adds that they lived like Americans without hearing a sermon for many years. This church has an exquisite chime of bells and they very much amused me every morning. Yours affectionately, James. End of Letter XXII. Read by Cibela Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter XXIII of Young Americans Abroad or Vacation in Europe, travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Prussia and Switzerland, edited by J.O. Choules. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter XXIII, London. Dear Charlie, I have not written to you for some time, but today I have seen a number of things which I am sure you would be pleased with and so I will tell you about them. Early in the morning we went to see the mansion house. This is the dwelling house of the Lord Mayor of London. It is a fine looking building, but has a queer upper story with small windows which look badly over the noble pillars and portico. The great room used for public occasions is the Egyptian Hall, for what reason does not appear from anything about it? Here the Lord Mayor has great feasts. I should like to be in London on the 19th of November, which is his day of inauguration, and this is the great day for Londoners. He rides in a large guilt carriage. I believe he goes to Westminster by water in a splendid barge and comes back in his coach. The salary is 8,000 pounds, but expenses are beyond this amount and some persons refuse to serve and pay a fine of 500 pounds, but this is a rare case and enough are ready to pay for the honour. In the city the Mayor ranks before the Royal Family. The title of Your Lordship ceases at the expiration of his office. Our next visit was to the Royal Exchange, a very noble quadrangle which was finished in 1844. It stands finally between the Bank of England and the mansion house and in front there is a sort of open space or widening of the streets. This is the third building which has occupied the same spot. The two earlier ones were both burnt down. The original exchange was built by Sir Thomas Gresham and opened by Queen Elizabeth in 1570. It was copied from the famous Burris at Antwerp, which still stands. It is singular that in the great fires of 1666 and 1838 the statue of Sir Thomas Gresham escaped uninjured. The exchange is built of Portland stone and already has acquired from the spoke of London a venerable tinge. The portico I am told is the largest in the kingdom, but the one at St. Martin's Church I like better. Crossing over the road we were at the Bank of England. This is truly an immense affair. The walls measure 1,460 feet. It was built in 1734, but has had many alterations and additions and now covers four acres. We did not go into it. The docks of London are among the attractions of the place. They are called St. Catherine's, London, East India, West India, commercial, et cetera. These are far too great an affair for me to describe and to look at them and then think of writing an account is very much like a small boy opening a book of mathematics and trying to understand it. What do you think of the tobacco warehouse at the docks covering five acres? Then the tea in bonded warehouses was worth 25 millions of dollars and there are 10 millions of pounds of pepper, six millions of gallons of wine and other things in proportion. I inquired about the shipping and was told that there were about 4,750 vessels and 80,000 seamen employed in the foreign commerce of the city and beyond all this 21,000 coasting vessels averaging five or six men to each craft. Nothing in London amazes us like these dots. Here you see Malays, Turks, Lascars, Chinese, Russians, Portuguese, Dutch, French, Negroes and men of all nations. We went several times to walk through Covent Garden Market and to see it to advantage you must go very early in the morning. The supply of fruits and flowers is perfectly astonishing and the perfume is very fine. You little imagine, Charlie, the prices that early vegetables and fruits fetch. A cucumber and onion wrapped up in grape leaves will in February, March and the early part of April find purchasers at two, three and $4. Strawberries, peaches and pines are sold in early season at what we should think awful prices. The hot house grapes are very beautiful and the vegetable productions are more carefully raised and in greater variety than with us. If you want to know all about Covent Garden Market you must read Mayhew on London Labor, a nice book. We boys had a treat the other day at an autograph collectors. His collection was large and rare but his price is very high. I have saved a catalog for you. Tomorrow we are off for the continent and we are very busy in making our arrangements so I must close. Our next will be from La Belle France, yours affectionately, George. End of letter 23, read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 24 of Young Americans Abroad or Vacation in Europe, travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Russia and Switzerland, edited by J.O. Choules. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 24, Paris. Dear Charlie, on a fine morning we left London by rail for Dover in company with the Reverend Dr. Murray of New Jersey and Dr. Chetwood who made quite a pleasant addition to our party. On reaching Dover we were gratified with the commanding position of the castle which stands upon the white chalky cliffs so celebrated by Shakespeare. The town lies in a charming valley. Dover boasts of high antiquity. The Saxons and Romans both left enduring memorials of their residence. Its importance was felt at a very early day on account of its being the best and authorized port to carry on intercourse with France. Dover Castle was a strong fortification when William the Conqueror landed. We found a steamer ready to start and in a few minutes were all on board. The Straits of Dover are but 21 miles wide and yet in the short passage of barely two hours we all suffered sadly from sea sickness. The boat was small, the passengers were numerous and all were thankful to plant their feet upon the soil of the Republic. The examination of our passports and refreshments at the station house occupied about half an hour and we again entered on our journey by the rail. I shall say nothing of the place at present as we fully intend to pass a day here on our return to examine this interesting old city. We found the cars good, the railroad excellent but everything looked strange. No farms laid out in fine fields and divided off by hedges as in England or fences and stone walls as with us. We everywhere noticed women working in the field. We passed through St. Omer, a fortified town of 20,000 inhabitants. This is a town where many English Catholics have been sent for education. We then came to Leel, which looked like a large city. It has about 70,000 inhabitants. The fortifications look very strong and were constructed by the great Vauban. This place has been besieged several times once by the Duke of Marlborough for three months when it surrendered under Marshall Buflers. We were amazed at the vast number of windmills amounting to hundreds everywhere to be seen around the town and the tall chimneys in the town tell plainly that this is a great manufacturing place. The windmills are employed in preparing flats for linen. Dalai was our next town. It has about 18,000 inhabitants and has a foundry for ordinance. The theological seminary here has been famous and most of the Catholic clergy of England and Ireland were formerly educated here. Eris is a town of about 25,000 population and is celebrated as the birthplace of Robespierre. It is said to be a very beautiful place, but we saw a little of it. The cars next passed through Amiens, a city of about 50,000 inhabitants. It was at this city that a treaty of peace was made between France and England in 1802. Clermont is a very neat little town of about 5,000 inhabitants. It has a fine old castle and everything looked lively and prosperous. Pontoise on the River Oise is a small town and I should think that from the upper part of the town the prospect is very beautiful. We reached Paris in about 11 hours and a half from London. Really this seems very strange that I should breakfast in London and dine at Paris. After having our luggage examined at the station by the police we repaired it once to the Hotel Windsor on the Rue Rivoli. This was the hotel where Dr. C. had his quarters 15 years ago and is it not strange that we should have the same suite of rooms that he then occupied? We have a fine drawing room, a dining room and three good chambers. Our hotel is exactly opposite the gardens of the Tuileries and is in the pleasantest part of the city. James, you know, was once here for three months and he has quite a knowledge of the city and seems perfectly at home. We take our breakfast in the apartments or the coffee room as suits us best at about nine o'clock. Our dinners in some good cafe in various parts of the city or at the Table d'hote at Maurice's Hotel which is just next door to us. In calling on one or two persons we found them in old apartments but quite noble rooms as high up as four and five stories. And we hear that many families live in the same building and that many very respectable people live in the sixth and even the seventh story. This I should never like. Whenever we go out we leave our key with the concierge or his wife who live in a snug little apartment just inside the great gate which opens into a well-paved court. We have determined not to engage a guide in Paris because it is so often annoying to have a coarse vulgar mind disturbing you when all you ask is silence and your own reflections. It is quite a mistake to suppose that you cannot get along without a valet de plus for in every hotel and almost every large establishment there are persons to be found who speak English. We paid our respects to our good friend the consul and found him very comfortably settled down in his office and residing in excellent style. A pleasant evening with his family made us all think of our old times on board the Arctic. The day after we arrived with James's birthday and he was to give us a dinner and had invited the consul and his son to dine with us. Well, at five we met the consulate and we boys walked ahead with Mr. G., Jr., leaving the doctor and the consul to bring up the rear. He supposed that his father understood where he proposed to take us and so we went on speedily. In the rue Vivienne they lost sight of us. We arrived at the Café Vachette on the boulevards and ordered dinner for the party. The gentleman, however, kept walking the street for two hours. At last they gave up the matter as a bad case and took refuge for a late dinner themselves in a neighboring café. At nine we all met, sadly disappointed. The pleasant occasion had been quite disarranged and some hard jokes passed upon our want of tact in not sending out scouts to search the rue Vivienne with the geography of which the doctor declares he is now perfectly acquainted, having tramped it for two hours with the consul. Of course we all have to take their jokes upon defrauding them of a fine dinner. We have since dined at Trois-Frais-Provenceau, which has the reputation of being one of the best cafés in Paris. Our room commanded a perfect view of the quadrangle of the Palais Royal and the spectacle was highly interesting. The accommodations of the room we occupied were very fine and nothing could surpass the beauty of the table linen, plate, et cetera. We are about to commence the sights of the city in earnest and are this evening to arrange our plans. Yours affectionately, George. End of Letter 24, read by Cibella Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.org. Letter 25 of Young Americans Abroad or Vacation in Europe. Travels in England, France, Holland, Belgium, Prussia and Switzerland. Edited by J. O. Choules. Read for LibriVox.org into the public domain. Letter 25, Paris. Dear Charlie, I like this city very much. Everyone seems so happy out of doors. Not only the poor but the wealthy are fond of the open air and a great deal of time is spent in the gardens and on the boulevards. Every place seems to have provision made for the enjoyment of the people. Isis and lemonade are to be found wherever you go. The appearance of the streets in Paris is much gayer than those of London. You see a much greater number of women walking out and they are generally very neatly dressed. But the streets do not look as substantial as they do in London. If there is more that is imposing, there is less that keeps up your wonder. I do not feel able to think that the people here have much business to do for everyone seems to be engaged in pleasure and yet there are great concerns going on and the fine manufacturers of this city are only to be done by labor and attention. Nothing at our first glances at the city have pleased us more than the profusion of flowers everywhere to be seen. It is quite common to see men with a rose in the buttonhole or a beautiful carnation. The roses are my admiration. I never saw such beauties before and whether it is owing to the climate or to scientific cultivation I know not. But certainly I never have beheld such variety or perfection. In the flower shop she will find very large bunches of rose buds. Each bunch made up exclusively of buds of one size from the dimensions of a pea in all gradations up to the diameter of half a dollar. Not a leaf opened, simply a bouquet of rose buds and the hole embellished in a delicate sheet of white paper. I reckoned the contents of one and found 267 buds not larger than a common pea and the price was only a frank. The moss roses are beyond all my conceptions of floral beauty and go where I may I find every niche of ground adorned with standard roses of various hues and the walls and windows are beautiful with brilliant geraniums which are evidently great favorites. We had a funny affair yesterday. We all went to make a call upon Mr. D and found his residence in a splendid part of the city but instead of being ushered into his drawing room we were brought into the saloon of no less a personage than the Lord Bishop of Jamaica. He politely directed us to the next apartment where we spent an agreeable hour with the family and found that similar mistakes occur almost daily. Our first tramp for a site was to Notre Dame and I shall never forget Charlie my first view of this cathedral. The exterior is more striking than any church edifice that I have yet seen. No engraving can afford a fair idea of its grandeur to one who has not seen it though it will help my mind to recall its beauties whenever I see the picture. You are so well read about Paris that I hardly need to tell you that eight centuries have rolled away since Notre Dame was built. It is regarded as the noblest Gothic pile in France and is the pride of Paris. The front is 120 feet wide and the richness of the carvings upon the exterior is wonderful. I am really glad to see that great pains are taking to restore and adorn this church. The decayed stones are taken out and new ones replaced and the carvings also are renewed when necessary so that future ages may see what so delights us. The two towers are 40 feet square and 200 high and you ascend by a staircase of 400 steps. The form of the church is that of the Latin cross. Its dimensions inside are 400 feet by 140 and the height is 100 feet. All through the cathedral is a line of Gothic arches supported by columns and as you enter the great door you see the entire edifice. The walls look bare to my eye in spite of the paintings. We were much pleased at seeing the spot where Napoleon was crowned and George was in ecstasies for you know how thoroughly he goes in for his beau ideal of the hero. Here are the splendid candelabra which the emperor gave on the occasion. We heard mass but the service was very formal and the priest might have been a real down Easter for he had a horrid nasal twang and his sanctisme was sanctisme. The history of these churches is strange and I think a pretty good book might be written on the romance of church architecture. The portal of the North Isle of the Choir was erected by a vile assassin, the Duke of Burgundy who murdered his cousin, the Duke of Orleans in 1407. This of course was his penance and fully expiated his crime. The great bell weighs 32,000 pounds and was baptized in the presence of Louis Couture's and is called Emmanuel Louis Therese after his queen. I cannot attempt to describe the beauties of this building inside or out. The exterior is all flying buttresses, cracketed pinnacles and sculpture. Inside you see chapel after chapel and as to windows of painted glass they are studies for hours. The rose windows are exquisite. We repaired to a small chapel used as a sacristy or treasure house of the church. Here we saw the coronation robes of Napoleon and splendid capes and embroideries in golden silver given by Charles X and Louis Philippe and here too is the vertebrae of the late Archbishop of Paris who was killed in the revolution of 1848. The bone has a silver arrow tracing the course of the bullet which lies beside it. This is in time to be a saintly relic but it seems to me a filthy sight and in wretched taste. But Popery knows well what to do with dead man's bones. For a minute description of this church I would refer you to three volumes called The History of Paris published by Galignani. On our return we went to the Hotel de Ville and had the company of Monsieur Eau whose kindness did much for us on several occasions. The Hotel de Ville stands in the Place de Greve where so much blood has been shed in other days. Here the martyrs of the Protestant faith have been put to death. Here it was that Duborg was strangled and burnt by order of Francis II. Duborg was a noble character. His last words were, Father, abandon me not. Neither will I abandon thee. This noble pile was begun in 1533 and only completed in 1841 and in the modern improvements 15 millions have been expended. The hole now forms an immense quadrangle. The front is Corinthian with pillars and niches between the windows. A vast number of statues adorn the front and others are in preparation. It was at the doorway in the center that La Martin, the noblest Roman of them all, so gloriously withstood the mob in February 1848, declaring that the red flag should not be the flag of France. I wish you could see this place for such it is though occupied by the city authorities. London has nothing to approach it in splendor. The staircases are gorgeous and are so rich in sculpture that only a sculptor could properly speak of them. We saw the room where Robespierre held his counsel and attempted suicide and also the window where Aula Fayed embraced Louis Philippe and presented him to the mob in 1830. It is the same window where poor Louis XVI addressed the savages when he wore the cap of liberty. By the way, I hate the side of that cap which always reminds me of the lamppost executions of the French capital in 1792-93. Its prevalence in our happy country is owing to the French mania which once possessed the people and has very much died out. The apartments are regal and some of them I think quite superior to those of Windsor Castle. In this building is a fine library and here are deposited the vast collection of American books obtained by Vodemar, whom you recollect we saw at Washington. I cannot tell you how sorely vexed we are to find the louvre shut up for repairs and decoration. Every week they say it is to be reopened but I fear we shall leave Paris ere it happens. How much we would all give to have you here? For though we are glad to tell you what we see we feel there are scores of objects which interest us that we have to pass over but which would make your eyes glisten if you could gaze upon. Well, my dear fellow, stick to your business, make your fortune and then come and look at the beautiful and fair in the old world. And who knows, but perhaps we may yet chat causally together in Paris. Oh, I do love to wander through this city by moonlight and gaze upon the bright lofty buildings as they loom up so gloriously in the mild lustre of a silvery night. God bless you. Yours affectionately, James. End of letter 25, read by Cibela Denton. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information, please visit LibriVox.