London. A uniformed porter claps his hand on the door of every

ations of some companies, by conspicuous sign-boards that "the servants of this company are strictly forbidden to receive any fees from travellers, and any one of them detected in doing so will be instantly discharged." This, however, does not prevent travellers from slyly thrusting gratuities upon them; and the English system of bribery is so thoroughly ingrained into e

ined by the exercise of talent and ability, even if the possessor have not wealth; but it is always pleasant to have any species of service, that one contracts for, well done, and in England the crowded state of all branches of employment and trade makes it worth workmen's while to bring forward efficiency and thorough knowledge of their trade as a leading recommendat

Britain, the imposing appearance of an official in uniform, or the gentlemanly full dress of a butler or upper servant, until I became acquainted with the customs of the country, sometimes made me doubt whether it would not be resented if I should offer him half a sovereign, till I saw some Englishmen give him a shilling or half crown, which was very gratefully received. But to our a

ortmanteau." Valise is a word they don

ers, into the brilliantly lighted station, stiff with long riding, confused with the rush, bustle, noise, and lights; but the porter, into whose hand, as it rested on the car-door, you slyly slipped a sixpence or shilling, attends to your case instanter. He does not lose sight of yo

rters will be polite, call a cab for you, and pack you into it, without any fee whatever; but you will, if you have not learned how to "tip," wonder how it was that so many persons seem to get off in cabs so much quicker

n-well, at night, seen from a cab window, it was not unlike many parts of New York, only it seemed like two or three New Yorks rolled into one. On we went miles through crowded streets, Regent Street, Oxford Street, and at last, at the West End, pulled up at the Langham Hotel, a house that nearly all freshly-arrived Americans, especially during the season of the French Exposition, when s

who can tell you what the bill of performance is at all the theatres, at what hour the trains over the different roads start, what is the best brand of wine, what to do, where to go, how much everything costs, recollects your name, is a gentleman in dress and address, and whom you mutually respect as a man of quick preception, prompt decision, and tenacious memory, is an official unk

or extract spirits from casks ranged in the enclosure, as they may be ordered by guests in their own room or the "coffee-room," into carefully-marked measures, so as to be sure that no one gets beyond his sixpence worth of whiskey, or gin, or brandy; b

ls are slowly becoming Americanized in some departments: one improvement is that of having what is called a "ladies' coffee-room," i. e., a public dining-room, and a table d'hote, and not compelling a gentleman and wife to dine in solemn state in a private room, under the inspection of a waiter. Between stated hours, anything in the magnificent bills of fare, for the three meals

den, Baden Baden, &c., can, after enjoying their comforts and conveniences, endure the clumsy manner of hotel-keeping, and the discomforts

erican tourist to do, before going to London, is to get some fellow-countryman, who has had experience in the

etween various resorts of the aristocracy and their residences, and the time the height of the season. There was one unceasing roar of private carriages and cabs from ten P. M.

ound that my own experience at Langham's was that of numerous other Americans, and that the pleasantest way to live in London is "in apartments" if one stays there any length of time-that is, furnished lodgings. The English themselves, when visiting L

time I found my mistake. I was fairly stunned and bewildered by the tremendous rush of humanity that poured down through Oxfo

from the last stages of dissolution, rattled here and there; the Hansom cabs, those most convenient of all carriages, dashed in and out, hither and thither, in the crowd of vehicles; g

except upon the stage at the theatre; ticket porters with their brass labels about their necks; policemen in their uniform; officers and soldiers in theirs; all s

idewalk, and he will "pull up," but he does it with a sort of calm condescension; the conductor or cad, on the other hand, is ever on the alert; his eyes are in every direction; he signals a passenger in the crowd invisible to all but him; he continually shouts the destination of his vehicle, but sometimes in a patois unintelligible except to the native Londoner. As for in

wychi

go to the B

, sir; 'er

the vehicle, slammed to the door, and, taking off his hat with mock politeness to a rival 'bus that had

. Mary's Axe," the locality alluded to. These conductors are generally sharp, quick-witted, and adepts at "chaff" and blackguard

o more for two persons than one. There being nothing between the passenger and the horse but the dasher, as the driver is perched up behind, an unobstructed view is had as you whirl rapidly through the crowded streets; and the cheapness of the conveyance, added to its adaptability for the purpose that it is used, makes an American acknowledge that in this matter the English are

little or none of it: making myself acquainted with the legal rate, I found it generally accepted without hesitation. If I was in do

will dart out to where the cabs are,-they are not allowed to stand in front of the theatre,-and fetch you one in an instant. The driver never leaves his seat, but yo

t: here are magnificent jewelry stores, all ablaze with rich and artistically-set gems and jewels; here a huge magazine of nothing but India shawls and scarfs-an excellent place to buy a camel's hair shawl. Ladies, save your money till you go to London, for that pri

s, unless one goes to some of the very choice establishments, or to foreigners at home, who, knowing how rare faithful work and good material are in their business, charge a tremendous premium for both articles. I think for service, ease to the foot, and real economy, there is no boot or shoe like those by the skilled London makers; the price charge

is in oth

r picnics. You order a five-shilling or five-pound hamper, and are supplied accordingly-meat-pies, cold tongues, fowls, game, wines, ales, pickles. There are English pickles, Dutch saur krout, French pate de foie gras, Finnian haddock, German sausages, Italian macaroni, American buffalo tongues, and Swiss cheeses, in stacks. That is what astonishes the American-the enormous stock in these retail establishments, and the immense variety of styles of each article; but it should be remembered that this is the market of the world, and the competition here is sharp. Go into a store for a pair of gl

that what he has shown you is what you ought to have, instead of what you demand and want; also that American style of indifference, or independence, as to whether you purchase or not, and the making of you-as you ascertain after shopping in London-do half the salesman's work. The London shopman understands that deference is the best car

, one in Regent Street, the fashionable quarter, and one in the city, say down towards the Bank, in Threadneedle Street, Poultry, Cheapside, &c. The "city" or down-town store

e splendidly, doubtless from its being an article of such prime necessity. The English umbrella is made light, shapely, and strong, of the

n Paris you will learn too late that trunk-making is not a Frenchman's art, though if you reach Vienna, the headquarters of the elegant Russia leather work, you will fi

Sackville Street, or Creed & Co., Conduit Street, Bond Street, both crack West End tailors. Others order of some of the city tailors down town, who, doubtless, suit them equally well, and use just as good materials, having the custom of some of the old particular London merchants, who like to step into a solid, old-fashioned, down-in-the-city store, where their predecessors traded,-like Sam Hodgkinson's, in Threadneedle Street, opposite Merchant Tailors' Hall,-and buy at an old established stand, a place that has the aroma of age about it. The older a busi

to do so, and his two workmen who wait upon you, measure, snip, mould, and adapt their work, appear to take as much pride in their occupation as a sculptor or artist. Indeed, they consider themselves "artists" in their l

t the windows of the great magazines of merchandise in Oxford and Regent Streets form in themselves a perfect museum of the products of t

nterrupt the tremendous rush of travel that jams, and crowds, and surges through and around it. Here is Prout's tooth-brush store close at hand. Everybody knows that Prout's brushes are celebrated. We step in to price some. "One shilling each, sir." You select twelve, give him a sovereign. He takes out ten shillings. "The price, si

n Hill, or "Eye Obun," as the Londoners call it. What a rush of 'buses, and drays, and cabs, and Hansoms, and everything! But let us go. Where is it one goes first

of Americans, and that will cater to them; a house that will not hold them off at arm's length, as it were; one that is not of such huge wealth as to treat American customers with surly British routine and red

latial edifices on Broadway, or the solid granite buildings of State Street, where you may imagine that you could find out about everything you wished to know about London; what the sights were to see; which was the best hotel for Americans; what you ought to pay for things; how to get to Windsor Castle, or the Tower, &c. Of course they would have American papers, know the news from America; and you, a young tourist

previously mentioned, they do "business," and on the rigid English plan; they will cash your check less commission, answer a question, or send a ticket-porter to show you the way out into Lombard Street, or, perhaps, if you send your card in to the managing partner's room, he will admit yo

rop in their ocean of capital, and they allow you four per cent. interest; and though they may contrive to make six

desks facing outward, and utterly devoid of all those elegant conveniences one sees in the splendid counting-rooms on Wall and State Streets,-foolish frippery, may be,-but the desks look crowded and inconvenient, the area for customers mean and contracted, for a house of such wealth, and we wondered at first if we had not made some mistake. Here we were,

ssrs. Barings'

s,

o draw so

or letter

r of c

pointed with his quill

, and commenced a fresh di

money on this letter

reads it carefully, then looks at me searchi

ir" (dec

money do

-five p

o another clerk, who is writing with his back to him, hands him letter, says something in a low tone to him. Second clerk takes

ive minutes more, I ventured to inquire if my letter of credit was ready. Clerk number one said it would be here "d'rectly;" and so it w

ir

treet" (point

he money at 80 Lo

urry. It's nea

is Lombar

u go out, turn first to left, then take -- S

ere, instead of sending me over to Lombard Street; but that woul

and papers from home, that I had given instructions should be sent there to await my arrival

tters f

beg yer

tters f

letter in yo

ers from home-from A

sir" (pointing a

he clerk checked off his memoranda as delivered, and I sallied out my first day in London, to turn to the left and right, and find Lomba

if the Barings ought not, taking into consideration the amount of money they have made and are making out of their American business and the American people, to show a little less parsimony and more liberality and courtesy to them, a

s forward, greets you cordially, makes pleasant inquiries with regard to your passage over, invites you to register your name and address, ushers you into a large room where the leading American journals are on file, and there are conveniences for letter writing, conversation, &c. He invites you to make this your headquarters; can he do anything for you? you want some money-

lassed as banking and commission houses, and the "commission" part of the business has come into existence within a few years, and was of some importance during the year of the Exposition. That part of the business would not be desirable to a great London banking-house, nor is there the field for it, as in Paris; but there

Oxford Street, a street of miles in length, and containing stores of equal splendor with its more aristocratic rival; Holborn, which is a continuation of Oxford, and carries you down to "the city;" Fleet Street and the Strand, with their newspaper offices, and bustle, and turmoil, houses, churches, great buildings, and small shops. Not far from here are Charing Cross Hotel and the railroad station, a splendid modern buildin

rthly glory, of the monarch, and received within their cold embrace his power

w many ro

n these hea

ie-had real

trength to lif

eir pulpit, se

'In greatness

acre, so

richest r

arth did e

irst man di

the hopes of years. There were the two great square towers, with the huge Gothic window between, and the Gothic door below. How I was carried back to the picture-books, and the wood-cuts, an

sixteen feet, breadth, thirty-eight feet; the choir, one hundred and fifty-six feet by thirty-one. To the dimensions of the abbey should be added that of Henry

ls dedicated to different saints, and an area of cloisters. The best external view of the building is obtained in front of the western

eligious stories; and from this point-the western entrance-a superb view may be had of the interior. Stretching far before us is the magnificent colonnade of pillars, a perfect arcade of c

osophers; wise and pure-minded men, vulgar and sensual tyrants; those who in the fullness of years have calmly passed away, "rich in that hope that triumphs over pain," and those whom the dagger of th

inguished member. Next comes the plain marble tomb of that bold crusader, Edward I., with the despoiled one of Henry V. Here also is the tomb of Eleanor, queen to Edward I., who, it will be remembered, sucked the poison from her husband's wound in Palestine; and here the black marble tomb of Queen Philippa, wife to Edward III., who quelled the Scottish i

ices, and banners. But the great object of interest in this magnificent, brass-gated chapel is the elaborate and elegant tomb of its founder, Henry VII., and his queen, Elizabeth, the last of the House of York who wore the English crown. The tomb is elegantly carved and ornamented, and bears the effigies of the royal pair resting upon a slab of black marble. It is surrounded by a most elaborate screen, or fence, of curiously-wrought brass-work. In another part of this chapel is a beautiful tomb, erected to Mary, Queen of Scots,

s and gifts of great inventions to mankind, achieved names that will outlive many of royal blood, in some of these chapels. In the Chapel of St. Paul there is a colossal figure of James Watt, who so developed the wonderful power of steam; one of Thomas Telford, in the Chapel of St. John, who

he life-like attitude and expression of affright of these two figures are wonderful, while the figure of Death, with the shroud half falling off, revealing the fleshless ribs, skull, and bones of the full-length skeleton, is something a little short of terrible in its marvellous execution. The other group was a monument to Sir Francis Vere, who was a great soldier in Elizabeth's time, a

t the pages of England's history, slumbered almost beneath our very feet, without a stone to mark their resting-place. Among these was the grave of the merry monarch, Charles II.; and the fact that not one of the vast swarm of sycophantic f

splendid works of sculpture, the curious inscriptions, and, in fact, to almost re-read a portion of England's past history in these monuments, that br

of the most noteworthy monuments they contain. These are

to visit, all crowded with elegant groups of sculpture and bass-reliefs, to the memory of tho

ames in English literature recorded, not only those of poets, but of other writers, though, among the former, one looks in vain for some memorial of one of Engla

s to sing, and sculptors to carve. Here looks out the medallion portrait of B

e Ben

f Hudibras, crowned with laurel, beneath

ve) was destitute of a

e a monument, John

taken sure by

ver him

have failed to do for the monarch they flattered and cajoled in the sunsh

medallion of the poet Gray, who died in 1771. The handsome monument of Matthew Prior, the poet and diplomatist, is a bust, resting upon a sarcophagus guard

heralds, b

at once was

f Adam an

or Nassau cl

re theatrical emblems, the inscription stating it was to Barton Booth, an actor and

as he is called-is an ancient, altar-like structure, with

s who sung the s

haucer now thi

ate, if, reader,

h, and it will

tober,

Duke of Buckingham, in 1720, bears upon

raised; the sa

e-the rest who

, representing him, book and pencil in hand, with the lyre at his feet

supporting a scroll, upon which are inscribed lines from his play of "The Tempest," will, of course, claim our attention. U

osition, upon the pedestal of which representations of the seasons are carved.

st, and all t

once, but n

ds the statue of Addison, and a tablet near by bears the fam

rble group is that to the memory of David Garrick, which represents a life-size figure of the great actor, standing, and throwing aside with each hand a curtain. At the base of the pedestal upon which the statue rests are seated life-size figures of Tragedy and Co

pts, globes, scientific instruments, &c. General George Wade has a great trophy of arms raised upon a sarcophagus, which a figure of Time is represented as advancing to destroy, but whom Fame prevents. In the wall, in bass-relief, we found a group representing the flag of truce conveyed to General Washington, asking the life of Major André. This group is cut upon a sarcophagus, over which Britannia is represented weeping, and is the monument to that young officer, who

comfiture of Death by Time, and the resurrection of the Just on the Day of Judgment. The figure of the general is represented as starting, reanimated, from the tomb, and behind him a pyramid is tumbling into ruins, while Time has seized Death, and is hurling him to the earth, after breaking

nave is a fine group erected by government, in 1813, at a cost of six thousand three hundred pounds, to William Pitt, died 1806. It represents the great orator, at full length, in the act of addressing the House, while History, represented by a full-length figure seated at the base of the pedestal, is recording his words, and Anarchy, a full-length figure of a naked man, s

gned in these sketches. There were the monuments to Fox, the statesman, with Peace and the African kneeling at his feet; to Sir Isaac Newton, the great philosopher and mathematician; Will

atesman, still

ost of five thousand pounds; and others, an idea of which may be gath

time is so short, weeks, months, might be spent here in hunting up the various interesting sigh

and buildings where the events of history, that figure in our school-books, took place; where we may look upon the very finger-marks, as it were, that the great, the good, the wicked, and the tyranni

at he has, time and again, read of in this great city, in history, story, and in fable, and the memory of the inward wish, or resolve, that he has often made to some day see them all? Now, which way to turn? Here they all are-We

ings may be see

and bring home their empty words, see them; but the tourist on his first visit abroad, before he has

e within!" And feeling pretty sure that Mrs. Bardell lived there, he had the Pickwickian romance all taken out of him by a sort of Sally-Brass-looking personage, who responded to his inquiries, and confessed to the name of Finch, a sort of Chaff-Finch he thought, from the sharp and acrid style of her treating his investigations. I confess, myself, to a

, about seven miles from where I took the boat, cost me sixpence. The boats dart about on the river with great skill and speed, and make and leave landings almost as quickly as an omnibus would stop to take up passengers. Americans cannot fail to notice that these boats have not yet adopted the signal bell to th

pe, constructed with a hinge for that purpose, was lowered backwards flat to the deck, and after passing the arch, at once resumed its upright position. Landing not far from Kew Green, we pursued our way along a road evidently used by the common classes, who came out here for Sunday excursions, for it was past a series of little back gardens of houses, apparently of mechanics, who turned an honest penny by f

ide the gardens, there were every species of hucksters' refreshments-all kinds of buns, cakes, fruits, &c., in little booths and stands of those who vended them, for the refreshment of little family parties, or individuals who had come from London here to pass the day. Hot waffles were baked and sold at two pence each, as fast as the vender could turn his hand to it; an uncertain sort of coffee at two pence a cup, and tea ditto, w

re they wish; they may saunter here and there; they may lie down or walk on the greensward, only they must not pluck the flowers or break the trees and plants; the garden is a perfect weal

aters, with specimens of lotus, lilies, papyrus, and other plants of that nature; the tropical hot-house, full of elegant flowery tropical plants; a Fern House, containing an immense variety of ferns, and a building

the different kinds of wood known in the world, and the forms into which it is or can be wrought. Here is rose-wood in the rough and polish; great rough pieces of mahogany in a log, and wrought into a piece of elegant carving; willow, in its long, slender wands, and twisted into elegant baskets; a great chunk of iron-wood in the rough, or shaped with the rude implement and patient industry of the savage into an elaborately-wrought war-club or paddle; tough lance-wood, and its carriage work beside it; maple and its pretty panels; ash;

h terrace, commanded an extensive view of the Thames far below it, in its devious windings through a wooded country of hill and dale, with Windsor Castle in the distance. This house, so famed in novels and plays, is the resort of the aristocracy; its terraced garde

des, with gay and fashionable promenaders passing to and fro, enjoying the scene. For more than a hundred feet below flashes the river, meandering on its crooked course, with pleasure-boats, great and small, sporting upon it; and, perched upon hill-sides and in pleasant nooks, here and there, are the b

been to Richmond Hill, and who is as much gratified to hear the cuisine and excellent wines of this hotel extolled by the visitor, as t

the "Star and Garter" ha