are narrower here than at the west end of the town, are insufficient to accommodate the crowd of passengers who are continually moving to and fro. One is often compelled to abandon the foot pavement for a moment and walk in the horse road, a thing which never happens, the English politely say, but to dogs and Frenchmen. Cheapside and Fleet-street are described by Sir W. Scott, in his novel of the "Fortunes of Nigel ;" but the citizens of the time of good King James would be mightily astonished at the present splendor and magnificence of the shops in those streets. Cheapside and Fleet-street are like our Rue St. Denis and Rue Vivienne combined.

We shall find still handsomer streets in the west end of the town; but before we proceed to join the fashionables in the bazaars or in Bond-street, let us station ourselves on London-bridge, and look down the river, where a forest of masts extends for the space of four miles. Here, I confess, London is the finest of capitals, and the Seine is but a streamlet in comparison with the Thames. We must next pay a visit to Blackfriars-bridge, which has not yet received its new name of Pitt'sbridge, which some persons proposed giving it in honour of the illustrious rival of Fox.

From Blackfriars Bridge we have a view of St. Paul's, the Tower, the Monument, Somerset House, Westminster Abbey, and more than thirty churches. Westminster Bridge, which was the handsomest in London before the construction of

Waterloo Bridge, was the work of a Frenchman. But Waterloo Bridge is not only the finest in London, it may be called the most magnificent in the world.* At sight of its elliptical arches, suspended so lightly and elegantly from one bank of the river to the other, one cannot feel astonished at Canova having said, that he would willingly resign all his glory for the honour of having created tha master-piece of Rennie's genius.

But we are now beyond the boundaries of the city, and have reached Charing-Cross, in the centre of which stands the equestrian statue of the unfortunate Charles I. Further on, in a sort of court-yard behind Whitehall, the palace from which the monarch was conducted to the scaffold, is the statue of the last king of the house of Stuart, James II., which was erected to him the year before his abdication. The pedestal bears simply the inscription of his name, and his title of king, which the new dynasty did not efface.

Proceeding westward from Charing-Cross, we enter the new part of London. In Pall Mall, the Haymarket, and Piccadilly, we meet with nearly as much noise and bustle as in the trading streets of the City; but the appearance of the houses is different, they are not so black as those in the east of London. The pavements, too, are wider, and

* Waterloo Bridge is 2890 feet long. It was completed in six years, and cost thirty-six million.

there is less elbowing among the foot passengers. In the middle of Piccadilly, there is a passage called the Burlington Arcade, which is similar to that of the Panorama or of the Galarie Delorme, and in Bond-street, from three to five o'clock every day, the prettiest women in London are to be seen visiting the shops, not so much, it appears for the purpose of making purchases, as to try the patience of the shopkeepers. The adjacent streets, up to Grosvenor-square, and on the other side of the wide and busy street called Oxford-street, are filled with the houses of persons of fashion. The hotels of our nobility and gentry have uniformly a porte-cachère in front, but in London, where there are no such things, the coach-houses and stables are built in mews or blind lanes, running behind the principal streets.

I

abave fixed my abode neither in the fashion

districts nor in the city, but in a central situation, in the neighbourhood of the theatres, which I am in the habit of frequenting. I am for the present in a furnished house, kept by a maiden lady of a certain age, which leaves you full liberty to ascribe to her any amount of years from thirty to forty. She keeps a boarding-house, which is occupied by young men, of whose professions I have hitherto been unable to form any conjecture. I have not been troubled with questions myself, and a stranger should be at least as discreet as those among whom he may be placed. Our meals are of a nature to satisfy the heartiest

appetite; the dinner, I mean, for our breakfast consists of tea, of which our amiable hostess pours

out as many cups as she is asked for.*

5

You tell me that I shall soon forget, in the dining and drawing-rooms of John Bull, your lively dinners and entertaining evening parties. Have you yourself forgotten that the yellow-visaged spleen is reckoned among the penates of old England, and is almost always visible to foreigners, however cheerful the smiles with which they are welcomed? That I may the better answer for myself, I will give you an account of three London dinners, and a rout which I have attended. I made my debut at the house of a baronet, Sir Francis L- who enjoys an income of 50001. a year. The English baronet holds a middle rank between a nobleman and a commoner. Lady

** I here suppress some details which relate personally to myself, and which may, perhaps, be introduced elsewhere.

L's landau is one of the most elegant to be seen in the drive in Hyde Park, and the additional polish of a winter in Paris, would impart to her ladyship and her two daughters a portion of the exquisite grace for which you are so highly distinguished. They, however, profess to admire every thing French, and belong to that class of ladies, who have not sufficient national spirit to look upon our transplanted milliners as contraband. At six o'clock in the evening I knocked at Sir Francis's door, and could not help admiring the polish of the brass knocker before I let it fall from my hand. I also observed the name of the master of the house, and his title of baronet, engraved on a brass plate, which is a very general practice in London. I dare say you will suspect that my appetite sharpened my memory. I did not forget to knock one of those thundering raps, which announce to the servants the arrival of a gentleman. The footman who opened answered my question very respectfully, took my hat into a room on my right, and then transferred me, as it were, to one of his fellow-servants, who ushered me up to the drawing-room door, where he announced Doctor P-, pronouncing my name in rather an odd way. I made but a slight bow, by way of imitating the English dignity, and Sir Francis gravely advanced towards me, holding out his hand, and performing the brief ceremóny of salutation, by cordially shaking mine. After a few trifling questions and short replies, he proposed introducing me first to his lady, and after