IV. Au English Saturnalia. "Away they go! One retires to his country-house, and another is engaged at a horse race; and as to their country WHO Junius. HO has not read Oliver Goldsmith's "Citizen of the World?" The remarks of his Chinese pilgrim in London seem to be applicable to myself. He felt himself as a newly created being, introduced into a new world in which, although every object strikes with wonder and surprise, yet the imagination is still unsated. Although the world has passed through it in exhibition; and London with her majestic architecture, regal parks, and soul-thrilling historical associations has been around and within, still imagination seems to be the only active principle of the mind. The most trifling occurrence gives pleasure until the gloss of novelty is worn away. When I have ceased to wonder, I may possibly grow wise; I may then call the reasoning principle to my aid, and compare those objects with each other, which were before examined without reflection. Their To me It is a beautiful May morning. Birds are singing. shrill sweetness rises even above the "London cries." it seems strange that the painters upon the building opposite, do not start or tumble down, at the unearthly whoops, groans, yells, and yawns below them, which announce the vender of something. I could only distinguish one vegetable in the medley,—" Aws-pawr-goose!" If Bedlam were out a-Maying, it would do justice to these 'cries'—to my novel hearing. In these transcripts from the eye, I know that I am unable to disseminate any useful principle, or afford any useful instruction. Beautiful parks and lofty monuments pass so rapidly in view, that my stare at them is almost vacant. The highest part of our human nature is not exercised. There can be no communion of soul with them as yet. We might gaze for ever and gratify the pleasure-loving propensity, and return home no wiser than we departed. But when one goes out into the English country, as I did on Thursday to Epsom, on the great Derby race day, the scenes of nature, with their hedges and vistas of trees, their meadows and cottages, all assemble upon the threshold of the mind, and many-very many, of these beauties enter into the internal economy of ideas and sentiment, there fadelessly to bloom-there continually to awaken something correspondent to their hue, form, and grandeur. I might reproduce these descriptions; but there is so much of human nature to commune with on this Derby day, that I forbear. Besides, as Dr. Cheever has well said, mere descriptions, be the scenery ever so grand, are cloying and tiresome. It is like living upon poundcake and cream, or rather upon whip-syllabub. A Derby day awakens more interest in London, than any other day in the Calendar. Every vehicle, from the splendid coach of Royalty and Dukery to the humble dog-cart and pony phaeton of the mechanic and shopman, are in requisition. Five thousand pounds is the stake, and millions more in the shape of bets are in the scale. The "nobs" (as the nobility are familiarly called), with their four-in-hand coaches, are the prominent actors in the day. They own most of the race-horses. But we will start ourselves. Lunch being prepared, and a vehicle entered, we hurry by the gorgeous array in Oxford and Regent-streets, pass the parks, those green metropolitan lungs, and give a hasty glance at the statue of Canning. Now Trafalgar square appears, and the Nelson monument long detains the lingering sight. It is the finest place in London for a monuThe column and statue are 177 feet high. The statues of the Georges III. and IV., are near, and serve to show off ment. this splendid monument to England's naval glory. The Na- Up in the broad day's lustre doth it stand, And yet methinks, that face lifted up so prominently in the "bosom of the land" doth blush, if not in the broad day's lustre, yet at evening's reddening glow, when contemplation delights in pure thoughts and virtuous actions. Read Nelson's private life. Doth not the sea through which he sailed become incarnadine with shame? How much of debauchery and wretchedness has been caused by the force of that splendid example which the monumental structures of England have illustrated, can only be known in that day, when the Judge of all shall winnow the purity of a heart from the glory of a name, and leave the latter as chaff for the fire. How streaked How the heart Soon we came in sight of old Westminster. and blackened with age look the old towers! swells with the vast proportions! Tracery, towers, niches, statues, frieze, and every other architectural appliance which render the Gothic a wilderness of arching foliage, "star proof" in its woven web of beauty, are here in profuse variety. And the Abbey-the most interesting place in England-the urn of her greatness the treasury of her genius-the Conqueror of Time; -does it not shut out all other objects? But we must reserve our thoughts until we go within. The Derby will start before we run over our 20 miles to the turf. Now we dart down toward Vauxhall, and "Father Thames" is emptying his pitcher beneath us. How many re flections seem cast in his waters. How splendid he seemed to the imagination, before we looked down upon his familiar face. The English poets had never seen our western streams-the magnificent Mississippi and the beautiful Ohio, else they would not have extolled so highly the charms of this little river.. frue, grandeur hath gathered many monuments of fame and pride upon its banks, and Art hath created landscapes which "peep into its tide;" but Nature was never less prodigal than in her decoration of the Thames. We saw St. James's palace beyond the Green Park, with the royal arms floating in the sunshine, a sign of the presence of the Queen. It was a scene thronging with recollections. There once stood the hospital dedicated to St. James, for the reception of the fourteen leprous maidens.-What tales could those old stones tell!—There Charles the First attended divine service, before he walked through the Park to his scaffold at Whitehall. In that very palace, MONK and Sir JOHN GRANVILLE planned the Restoration. There, within our vision, 66 through the towers, amidst his ring Of Vans and Mynheers rode the Dutchman King, The shouts that triumphed o'er her crownless Lear." Yonder, old HARRY the Eighth chuckled at the jokes of his witty Chancellor, SIR THOMAS MORE, to say nothing of the vile pranks of that pure "Defender of the Faith." There WALPOLE practised his shameless venality, and BOLINGBROKE (Pope's Mæcenas) lounged up to see the queenly Anne. Now, amid the whirl and stir, the present usurps the past, and St. James's becomes the home of the little VICTORIA and her numerous family, the sight of whom, as detailed in our last chapter, tickled our democratic feelings. Five bridges span the Thames, over one of which, Vauxhall, we ride toward Epsom. Granite and iron make Vauxhall only second to Waterloo bridge. From it we have a view, as yet a little misty, of the most splendid architectural display in Great Britain. I mean the new Houses of Parliament. They front the Thames, and extend to the water's edge. It is ower true, as one of England's poets has said, that the Thames does not resemble any of those streams whose foam is amber, and whose gravel, gold. Dirty-looking, even to the depth of filthiness, is her appearance. Can she be the same crystal mirror in which Eton and Windsor dress themselves every day in their Gothic costumes? Her "oozy bed" is no doubt full of argosies which contain the riches of the Indies; but there are some riches there imbedded which are neither beautiful nor fragrant. The river is washed out by the tide twice a day--quite a consolation to the nose-possessing and water-drinking community. 6 Now we are fairly over into Surrey. Vehicles are beginning to close in. We are compelled to walk, and even to stand still. Three abreast, yet packed close, and not within seventeen miles of Epsom. Does it not beat every thing? It is the English Saturnalia. Every body is privileged to joke every body. 'Nobs' joke 'snobs;' and donkey carts sauce Hansom cabs.'-Club men in their coaches halloo to pretty boarding-school misses, peeping over their green walls, which line the pike, who snicker and chuckle. Old Johnny Bull, red with jollity, rides along, "holding both his sides." Now and then a smash and curses announce something serious. We ourselves had the honor of being bumped by Lord Strathmore's carriage, and took the license of the day to caution his Lordship.-Toll-gates and hiring taxes (?) are collected. Stopping and walking, we finally pass through the last gate, and dash away over the furzy Downs. The prospect from the Downs is magnificent. Far below, and very distant, is seen the elements of English civilization— rail-cars puffing, roads lined with hedges; farms laid out like gardens, and gardens like paradises; towers standing upon high points, and, as we turn about, we see the stand and turf of Epsom ! Although we were a long time glad to find the "Derby" is not run. getting to Epsom, we are Let us mount upon the |