under the form where it receives the impression, returns it to the top of the machine, and there deposits it in regular files. All this is done in an instant, without the least noise or confusion. Between two and three thousand sheets are struck off in an hour, the paper being drawn alternately from each side, and the form being almost constantly employed in producing an impression. It feeds itself with ink, by means of rollers communicating with a trough. Three persons are required to work it-one to turn the crank and the other two to supply the paper.

The typography is beautiful, being uniform in its complexion, and free from blurs. I examined numerous specimens, taking the sheets indiscriminately from reams of the ordinary work upon which the men were employed. It is designed rather for printing books than newspapers. The price of a press is £1000. Dr. Church is a silent, modest man, who makes no comments on the merits of his own invention, but merely exhibits the result, and leaves others to judge. He is now engaged in completing his new method of setting types, which is to be effected by melting and recasting the metal at every impression. He remarked that his greatest difficulty was to prevent the loss of material by frequent fusion; but this he hopes to obviate by a chemical process, which prevents the formation of dross. He is on the whole a very clever man, possessing much scientific research and mechanical skill, united with inventive genius and natural acumen. Whatever may be the result and practical utility of his printing-press, the ingenuity it displays reflects credit upon the indefatigable inventor.

It is amusing to see with what boldness and ultimate success adventurers from our country encounter the prejudices of foreigners, and push their fortunes in the principal towns of England. In one of the most fashionable parts of Birmingham, a portrait painter from the woods of Pennsylvania has opened his rooms, and is well established in his professional pursuits. We called to pay our respects, but found his door locked upon a lady, who was sitting for her likeness. Such an undertaking requires a more daring spirit of enterprise, than to subdue the forests of the west, or to give chase to the whale amidst the icebergs of the poles.*

* In the winter of 1827, we became intimately acquainted with the young and promising artist, alluded to in this paragraph. He was then in Paris, on his way to Italy, where a study of the great masters of that country, added to his native genius and self-acquired proficiency, cannot fail to render him eminent in his profession. He took a likeness of General La Fayette, which is in the highest degree creditable to his pencil.

The people of Birmingham appear to entertain liberal feelings towards our country. With the single exception of the man who draws wire and makes frying-pans, and who seemed to entertain fears that we would borrow his trade, the manufacturers treated us with great kindness and attention. The proprietor of one of the principal establishments invited us to dine with him at Pike Hall, two miles from town. He has a rural and beautiful retreat, with extensive grounds and gardens. His house is elegantly furnished, and among its ornaments are paintings which cost him £30,000. As his manufactory has supplied most of the arms for the East-Indies, his table has long been the resort of military officers. He gave us one of the best dinners that had been found in England, with a speech and a round of sentiments, breathing a spirit of liberality towards the United States. One of the guests informed me, that he dined twice with the celebrated senator of Roanoke, when he was at Birmingham, and found him pleasant over a bottle of old port. On our way to and from Pike Hall, we passed the ruins of Dr. Priestley's house, which was destroyed by the formidable mob at the commencement of the French Revolution, and drove its tenant to our own shores. It was the most terrific riot England has ever witnessed.

Previous to our departure from Birmingham, an hour was passed in examining a newly invented steam-carriage, calculated for ascending hills; and also various kinds of metallic bedsteads, for which patents have been secured. The former has not yet received a fair experiment; but the latter appeared to me a valuable invention, worthy of being introduced into our own country, if it has not already been. It effectually prevents the greatest annoyance of a summer night, in warm climates.

The theatre at Birmingham, which is a handsome building, had not sufficient attractions to induce us to attend. One of our American acquaintances introduced us into the large and commodious ReadingRoom, which has recently been opened at the Post-Office. Files of American papers were found upon the tables. Our survey of the town was concluded with an examination of a monument in memory of Nelson, standing near the market. The hero is represented in the attitude of resting upon the admiral ship in the battle of Trafalgar.

LETTER XXXI.

COVENTRY-KENILWORTH-WARWICK-STRATFORD-ON-AVON-BIRTHPLACE AND TOMB OF SHAKSPEARE-RIDE TO OXFORD-THE UNIVERSITY-ETON SCHOOL-WINDSOR CASTLE-RETURN TO LONDON.

November, 1825.

On the morning of the 18th, we took seats in the coach for Coventry, seventeen miles from Birmingham. The approach to the town, which the muse of Shakspeare has immortalized by making it the scene of Sir John Falstaff's military adventures, is not uninteresting, independently of its associations. Three lofty and well proportioned steeples, rising to the height of about three hundred feet, give an imposing aspect to the place, which boasts of great antiquity, and has enjoyed its day of celebrity. It was once encompassed by a strong wall, and was entered by twelve gates. Its present population is about 14,000.

After breakfast, an intelligent and polite citizen who appeared to feel some pride in the place of his residence, accompanied us without solicitation to St. Michael's Church, and directed our attention to such objects as are interesting to the stranger. It is an old and venerable pile. The spire is a beautiful model of architecture, and was much admired by Sir Christopher Wren. It is now tottering with age, and must soon fall, unless means are speedily taken to preserve it. The ceiling of the interior is magnificent, bearing a strong resemblance to that of King's Chapel at Cambridge. It contains an organ, which is so powerful as to drown a full peal of bells. Many sepulchral monuments crowd the walls and pavement. The pulpit, which is of oak and highly ornamented in the Gothic style, was the first erected in England after the Reformation.

From the Church, we were conducted to another part of the town, to look at a curious figure called "Peeping Tom." The image of a tailor, dressed in a cocked hat, and ornamented with a profusion of lace and ribbons, is seen peeping from a niche in the exterior wall of a house, standing at the corner of the streets. Tradition says that Godiva, Marchioness of ancient Mercia, consented to ride through the streets of Coventry, more slightly clad than even Falstaff's ragged regiment, for the purpose of propitiating her lord, who had consented to relieve the citizens from a heavy tax upon such conditions. An edict was issued, that the shops and houses should all be shut during the ceremony. The curiosity of a certain tailor triumphed over his regard for the ordinance, and prompted him to peep from his window

at the passing spectacle. As a retribution for such an act of indecorum, he was instantly struck blind; and some editions of the legend add, that his eyes dropped from their sockets. By the unanimous voice of the citizens, he was "damned to everlasting fame." The heroic exploit of Lady Godiva is gratefully commemorated once in two or three years, when some gallant female volunteers to ride through the streets at the head of a procession, personating as nearly as possible the great patroness of the town. On such occasions, Peeping

In

Tom enjoys the benefit of a new hat, a new coat, and other decorations. The next anniversary will be celebrated in a few months. an age of refinement, this Eleusinian ceremony might perhaps be advantageously commuted.

At Coventry we took a post-chaise for Kenilworth, a small brick town, situated upon a sandy plain. The road between the two places is bordered by large trees, which are the remains of an extensive forest once infested by robbers. Our sole object at Kenilworth was to see the ruins of the Castle, seated on a little eminence to the west of the town. Something more than half an hour was spent in rambling over the enchanted spot, and in tracing out its associations. The proportions of the Castle, plainly discoverable by the fragments which remain, are upon a gigantic scale. Massive walls, arches, and columns cover a large area, and were calculated for great strength, having been surrounded with a moat and furnished with draw-bridges. A luxuriant growth of ivy, intermingled with mountain-ash, hawthorn, and the wild brier, mantles the ruins, climbing the broken pillars, and hanging around the gray battlements, in the richest and most fanciful festoons.

But why should I attempt a description of a Castle, which has sat to the graphic pencil of Sir Walter Scott, who has seized its features in the happiest attitude, and portrayed them with a strength of colouring that will endure the test of time? It is fortunate, that the magnificent ruin has found such a master, before its evanescent charms have farther disappeared. Few places can boast of more various or more interesting associations than Kenilworth. It has alternately been the seat of war and of pleasure--of feudal strife as well as feudal luxury-the prison and the palace of kings. Here the first Edward gave a splendid fete, at which a hundred knights and as many ladies in gorgeous dresses were present, and here one of his successors was long a prisoner. Here also in 1575 Elizabeth was sumptuously entertained for the space of seventeen days by her favourite Dudley, Earl of Leicester, during which time a round of tilts, tournaments, and other amusements enlivened the halls of Kenilworth. But I am recurring to scenes, with which many of my readers are probably familiar.

After pausing for a few minutes at the lodge to look at the antique ornaments, composed half of oak and half of marble, which decorated the old fire-place of the Castle, and have been dug from the ruins, we resumed our journey and rode to Warwick, six miles beyond. On the left side of the way is a romantic cliff, beautifully shaded with trees where Guy of Warwick terminated his eventful life. Many chivalrous adventures are ascribed to this knight. He fought the Danish giant, killed the dragon in the forests of Yorkshire, visited the Holy Land, sig nalized himself by his valour in Germany, where he was offered the emperor's daughter in marriage, whose hand he rejected on account of the love he bore to the beautiful daughter of the Earl of Warwick, the source and the reward of all his high achievements.

Passing under a lofty arch of the old wall, surmounted by a tower, we entered the village of Warwick, which is pleasantly situated and has several handsome streets hewn from the cliffs. It contains a population of eight or ten thousand, with a large proportion of public buildings. To our regret it was ascertained on arriving at the hotel, that the Castle would not be open until the next day at 1 o'clock, a delay which our arrangements would not justify. Our view of it was therefore confined to the exterior, from the bridge of the Avon, on the rocky bank of which the Castle is prettily seated. Its battlements look immediately down upon the stream, which flows peacefully by, and is bordered by copses of forest trees. The lodge and entrance are in bad taste, looking much like the approach to a stable, or any any other building, than the seat of a nobleman.

The remainder of our short stay at Warwick was employed in a visit to St. Mary's Church, which contains a great number of sepulchral monuments. Its interior is spacious, with a lofty Gothic ceiling, highly finished. The section of it called the Lady's Chapel, is a splendid specimen of architecture, enriched with a profusion of ornaments, and containing the tombs of the Earls of Warwick. That in memory of Beauchamp is peculiarly striking. He lies in state, clad in ancient armour of double-gilt brass, with a bier of the same material above him. Numerous other groups sleep around, imparting to the chapel an air of solemnity.

After taking some refreshment at the hotel, for which an exorbitant price was charged, amounting to about twice as much as is paid for the same fare in the north of England, we again took a post-chaise for Stratford-on-Avon, distant eight miles. Our minds the whole way were filled with the recollections of Shakspeare. On the left side of the road, at the distance of a mile or two, stands the mansion of Lord Lucy, from whose park the young bard stole the deer, and on whom