VILLAGES-FARMS-BRISTOL.

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as in America, where people build, but do not repair. Peeping in, as we pass along, the floors appear to be a pavement of round stones like the streets,-a few seats, in the form of short benches,-a table or two, a spinning-wheel,-a few shelves,-and just now (Christmas,) greens hanging about. The people appear healthy, and not in rags, but not remarkably stout; the women, I think, are more so in proportion than the men. We meet very few beggars, and those old and infirm. Farm-houses, with their out buildings, look remarkably neat, and in great order; near them we see stacks of hay and straw, of prodigious size, covered with a slight thatching, and over that a sort of net of straw, to prevent the wind disturbing the thatch. Industry, method, and good order, are conspicuous everywhere. Most of the land is in meadow. Turnips are enormous; some as large as a man's head. The cattle do not look different from ours. We meet, however, with more picturesque horses than in America, with big shaggy legs, and heavy heads.

January 5.-Arrived in the evening at Bristol, 48 miles in eight hours, stoppages included; the horses better. On approaching Bristol, you see, from an elevation, a ridge on the left, covered with country-houses, groves of trees, and green fields. This ridge is intersected by a deep gap, near which a confused heap of roofs, towers, and steeples, and smoke, mark the town; dirty suburbs succeeded to this view; then a bridge over a mean and muddy stream; then through crowded streets we arrived at The Bush. The next morning shewed us, opposite our windows, a large building of freestone, in excellent style, The Exchange. Taking a guide, I called upon those for

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BRISTOL-HOT-WELLS.

whom we had letters, and have been obligingly received. English hospitality is not in high repute;-so far, we have no reason to complain of it. There is a look of comfort and neatness in the inside of houses, which is very striking; every thing is substantial and good, and uniformly so in all parts of the house; and, as to the table, Lucullus dines with Lucullus every day, and little addition appears necessary should a few friends come unexpectedly. The creditable and decent look of the servants is no less remarkable, and they are the mainspring of all the other comforts. I am perfectly aware that there are many people who have no servants, and hardly bread to eat, and whose habitual state is labour and poverty. Although I have had no opportunity, as yet, of becoming acquainted with the situation of that class of people, I have necessarily seen them at their daily labour, in traversing the country, and I have had a glimpse of their habitations. All I can say is, that the poor do not look so poor here as in other countries; that poverty does not intrude on your sight; and that it is necessary to seek it. All human societies are full of it, here it does not overflow certainly. One of the best houses, and in the finest situation, (Clifton) costs L. 220 sterling a-year, taxes included;-good houses, in an old-fashioned part of the town, are not one-fourth part of that rent. The wages of a man-servant, L. 35 sterling; a womancook, L. 15 sterling; meat sixpence and eightpence the pound.

We went to see the Hot-Wells, a harmless medical spring. The river passes there the deep gap which we had seen on approaching the town, through a calcacerous mass, about 200 feet high ;the tide is here 30 feet and upwards. Immense

docks have been built, or rather a new bed has been dug for the river, and the old one, closed by flood-gates, forms a natural bason for shipping. We saw, however, but few vessels. The trade of this port is rather diminishing; notwithstanding this, the town increases, and looks more considerable, better built, and more opulent than New York.

January 8.We arrived at Bath last night. The chaise drew up in style at the White Hart. Two well-dressed footmen were ready to help us to alight, presenting an arm on each side. Then a loud bell on the stairs, and lights carried before us to an elegantly furnished sitting-room, where the fire was already blazing. In a few minutes, a neat-looking chamber-maid, with an ample white apron, pinned behind, came to offer her services to the ladies, and shew the bed-rooms. In less than half an hour, five powdered gentlemen burst into the room with three dishes, &c. and two remained to wait. I give this as a sample of the best, or rather of the finest inns. Our bill was L. 2, 11s sterling, dinner for three, tea, beds, and breakfast. The servants have no wages,-but, depending on the generosity of travellers, they find it their interest to please them. They (the servants) cost us about five shillings a-day.

This morning we have explored the town, which is certainly very beautiful. It is built of freestone, of a fine cream-colour, and contains several public edifices, in good taste. We remarked a circular place called the Crescent, another called the Circus; all the streets straight and regular. This town looks as if it had been cast in a mould all at once; so new, so fresh, and regular. The building where the medical water is drank, and where

the baths are, exhibits very different objects; human nature, old, infirm, and in ruins, or weary and ennuyé. Bath is a sort of great monastery, inhabited by single people, particularly superannuated females. No trade, no manufactures, no occupations of any sort, except that of killing time, the most laborious of all. Half of the inhabitants do nothing, the other half supplies them with nothings:-Multitude of splendid shops, full of all that wealth and luxury can desire, arranged with all the arts of seduction.

Being in haste, and not equipped for the place, we left it at three o'clock, dined and slept 14 miles off, on the direct road to London. During our ride, we saw a little stream appear here and there among the willows, in the vale below. I asked a woman at the toll-gate what the name of it was: "Sure, Sir, the Avon!" It is not easy to avoid failing in respect to English rivers, by mistaking them for mere rivulets. I have heard an Englishman, who was amusing himself with the ignorance prevalent in foreign countries, tell a story of a lady, who said to him, “Have you in England any rivers like this?" (the Seine); but interrupting herself, added, laughingly," Good God, how can I be so silly, it is an island; there are no rivers!" I really think the lady was not so very much in the wrong.

The country is beautiful, rich, and varied, with villas and mansions, and dark groves of pines,shrubs in full bloom, evergreen lawns, and gravel walks so neat,—with porters' lodges, built in roughcast, and stuck all over with flints, in their native grotesqueness; for this part of England is a great bed of chalk, full of this singular production (flints). They are broken to pieces with hammers, and spread over the road in deep beds, form

AVON-RICHMOND-LONDON.

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ing a hard and even surface, upon which the wheels of carriages make no impression. The roads are now wider; kept in good repair, and not deep, notwithstanding the season. The posthorses excellent; and post-boys riding instead of sitting. Our rate of travelling does not exceed six miles an hour, stoppages included; but we might go faster if we desired it. We meet with very few post-chaises, but a great many stagecoaches, mails, &c. and enormous broad wheel waggons. The comfort of the inns is our incessant theme at night,-the pleasure of it is not yet

worn out.

January 11.-We arrived yesterday at Richmond. F felt a sort of dread and impatience to meet new-old friends, and approached the Green with no very enviable feelings. I knew the house immediately, from the drawing I had seen of it. Nothing can be more friendly than the reception we have met, and I feel already at my ease. Generally an inn is vastly preferable at the end of a journey to a friend's house,-unless a friend indeed and I have said before, on such an occasion I hate a friend; but here I have felt at my ease from the first moment. This morning I set out by myself for town, as London is called par excellence, in the stage-coach, crammed inside, and herissé outside with passengers, of all sexes, ages, and conditions. We e stopped more than twenty times on the road-the debates about the fare of way-passengers the settling themselves-the getting up, and the getting down, and damsels shewing their legs in the operation, and tearing and muddying their petticoats-complaining and swearing-took an immense time I never saw any thing so ill managed. In about two hours we reached Hyde