magnificent temple, which I knew immediately to be St Paul's, and I left the vehicle to examine it. The effect was wonderfully beautiful; but it had less vastness than grace and magnificence. The colour struck me as strange,―very black and very white, in patches which envelope sometimes half a column; the base of one, the capital of another;-here, a whole row quite black,— there, as white as chalk. It seemed as if there had been a fall of snow, and it adhered unequally. The cause of this is evidently the smoke which covers London; but it is difficult to account for its unequal operation. This singularity has not the bad effect which might be expect

ed from it.

I had not time for any long examination, and felt uneasy and helpless in the middle of an immense town, of which I did not know a single street. A hackney-coach seemed the readiest way to extricate myself, and I took one. After being dragged slowly along many short, winding, dark, and crowded streets, and missing my letters, which had just been sent to Richmond, I met with a friend, who took me under his protection; dismissed my hackney-coach, which was not better, and perhaps worse, than those of Paris, and in which I was surprised to find a litter of straw, which has a very shabby appearance, but, being changed every day, is better

than a filthy carpet. My friend conducted me very obligingly back again through the whole town. In our walk we passed several large squares, planted in the middle with large trees and shrubs, over a smooth lawn, intersected with gravel walks; the whole inclosed by an iron railing, which protects these gardens against the populace, but does not intercept the view. The inhabitants of the neighbourhood, who contribute to the expense, have each a key. One of these squares, Lincoln's Inn Fields, appears to contain five or six acres, and is said to be equal to the base of the largest of the pyramids of Egypt. The buildings round are plain houses. I have not observed any thing in this day's ramble above that rank in architecture, or any public buildings of note. But although the luxury of this people does not resemble the luxury of the Greeks and the Romans, yet they are better lodged. I have heard no cries in the streets,— seen few beggars,—no obstructions or stoppages of carriages, each taking to the left. We found in Piccadilly a stage-coach ready to start for Bath, by which I could be carried some miles on my way to Richmond; it resembled a ship on four wheels; a sort of half cylinder; round be

I have since seen in this part of the town several buildings worthy of notice.

low, flat above, very long, and divided into three distinct apartments. I was introduced into the cabin by an after-port, and locked in with another passenger. Soon after I had taken my seat, the carriage rattled away full speed. This was much better than my morning conveyance, and I enjoyed the change; but after a few miles, an apprehension seized me of being carried be yond the port to which I was bound, (Kew Bridge). We reached it,-I knew it again,saw with terror that we passed it, and that I was swept away with alarming velocity, like Robinson Crusoe from his island. I endeavoured in vain to call, or to open the door. At last the carriage stopped unexpectedly, little more than a quarter of a mile beyond the bridge; and, proceeding the rest of the way on foot, I reached Richmond long after dark, but in time for dinner, which is here an early supper,-related the adventures of the day, and received the letters sent from London.

January 24.-We are at last established in London, in furnished lodgings, very near Portman Square, a fashionable part of the town. A previous study of the map has made me sufficiently acquainted with the town to find my way to every part of it, by means of two principal avenues, Piccadilly and the Strand, Oxford Street and Holborn, which unite at St Paul's, whence,

as from a common centre, they separate again, to form two other great avenues, still east and west, Cornhill and Bishopsgate Street: they are the arteries of this great body, and all the other streets are the veins, branching out in all directions. It is easier to acquire a practical knowledge of the geography of London than of Paris, which has not the same rallying points, except the Seine, which divides Paris more equally than the Thames does London; the other side of the Thames is only an extensive suburb, whereas the other side of the Seine is half Paris. The people of London, I find, are quite as disposed to answer obligingly the questions of strangers as those of Paris. Whenever I have made enquiries, either in shops, or even from porters, carters, and market-women in the streets, I have uniformly received a civil answer, and every information in their power. People do not pull off their hats when thus addressing any body, as would be indispensable at Paris; a slight inclination of the head, or motion of the hand, is thought sufficient. Foot-passengers walk on with ease and security along the smooth flag-stones of the sidepavement. Their eyes, mine at least, are irresistibly attracted by the allurements of the shops, particularly print-shops; not that they always exhibit those specimens of the art so justly admired all over Europe, but oftener caricatures

of all sorts. My countrymen, whenever introduced in them, never fail to be represented as diminutive, starved beings, of monkey-mien, strutting about in huge hats, narrow coats, and great sabres; an overgrown awkward Englishman crushes half a dozen of these pygmies at one squeeze. There are no painters among the lions,-at least they are not here. It must be owned, however, that the English do not spare themselves; their princes, their statesmen, and churchmen, are thus exhibited and hung up to ridicule, often with cleverness and humour, and a coarse sort of practical wit. Some shops exhibit instruments of mathematics, of optics, of chemistry, beautifully arranged; the admirable polish, and learned simplicity of the instruments, suggest the idea of justness and of perfection,-recalling to your mind all you know of their uses, and inspiring a wish to know more. Jewellers' shops, glittering with costly trinkets, give me another sort of pleasure, that of feeling no sort of desire for any thing they contain. Finally, pastry-cook shops, which, about the middle of the day, and of the long interval between breakfast and dinner, are full of decent persons of both sexes, mostly men, taking a slight repast of tarts, buns, &c. with a glass of whey; it costs 6d. or 8d. sterling. A young and pretty woman generally presides behind the counter, as in the coffee-houses of Paris.

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