than the surface of the bason." Water is supplied also for a considerable part of London, from the water-works at London Bridge. From the level of the river, the water is "forced up to a bason on the top of a building one hundred and twenty feet in height. From this bason it again descends into the main pipes, and is conveyed in all directions through the town. The water is raised by the action of four great wheels, which are turned by the stream, and every turn of the four wheels causes one hundred and fourteen strokes of the piston rod; by this means from forty to fifty thousand hogsheads of water are raised every twenty-four hours."

When we remember that the Thames is the receptacle of the filth of the city and shipping, and that the new river is the common bathing place of thousands, especially of the working men and boys, we should naturally feel somewhat fastidious as to the use of it. But the dirt which is mechanically suspended subsides by repose, and what is chemically dissolved is not obvious to the eye, and if it impart no peculiar taste, of course, escapes observation.

London is supplied with water in profusion, considering the magnitude of the place.

Almost every morning, some of the large water plugs are turned, and the streets are for a time partially inundated; this produces the double effect of cleansing them and of cooling the air. Both these effects are aided by a contrivance which I have never seen except in London.

There are carts fitted up with square boxes, watertight, except behind and below, where there are a great number of perforations like those in a riddle. When these boxes are filled with water the carts are drawn slow

ly through the streets, which are, in this way, sprinkled. As the water subsides into the gutters, it is thrown out again into the cart-way, by men with broad shovels; the filth of the streets is also removed every day, so that London, considering its size, is wonderfully clean.

The object of our excursion, this morning, was Greenwich hospital. We took a boat at the tower and proceeded down the river. Our progress was between double rows of ships, stationed on either side of the riverinnumerable-bearing the flags of almost all nations, and presenting, as far up and down as the eye could reach, a scene resembling a girdled* forest. It is useless for me to dilate on the vast commerce of the Thames; you it well; this river, undoubtedly sustains more wealth than any other, and the innumerable wherries, passage-boats, lighters, and other small craft, swarm on its surface, like insects on a pool of stagnant water, in a summer's morning.t

know

As we passed down the river, we saw several ships of war lying at anchor; a great number of Dutch vessels under Prussian colours, and a Greenland ship, the blubber from which was then boiling on shore, and sent a very unsavoury effluvium between the wind "and our nobility." Against her masts a number of ribs of whales were placed perpendicularly, seemingly as trophies. On the

* Girdled, a word employed in America to denote the method used to destroy the trees by making an incision quite around them.

+ No ships are seen above London Bridge. Boats with masts pass under the bridges by dropping the masts, which move on hinges.

south side of the river, near where this ship lay, there is a dock appropriated to the Greenland ships.

We passed by the West-India docks which I have already mentioned; nor did we stop at Deptford, a principal station for building, victualling and repairing the royal navy. Foreigners are not admitted there at all, unless by favour, for the English are very jealous of every thing connected with their naval greatness. We passed however close to the shore, and saw several large ships of war on the stocks, and they were just raising the masts of a sixty-four, which lay in the stream. Thus, by an unceasing attention to their navy do the English maintain its proud superiority.

We rowed by a small frigate, on board of which are about three hundred charity boys, receiving the rudiments of a naval education. The ship belongs to the Marine Society; and is permanently moored in the river; the boys, who are patronised by this society, live on board, and are instructed in such theoretical knowledge as seamen want, and are daily exercised at the ropes and great guns. When they arrive at a proper age, they are removed into actual service on board the king's ships, or those of the East-India Company.

Greenwich hospital is about five miles from London bridge, but, there is no interruption of the streets and buildings, and, a stranger would not distinguish that Deptford and Greenwich are not a part of London.

Being arrived, we landed and proceeded to the terrace, in front of this most magnificent hospital. It is vast in extent, as you may well suppose from its affording accommodations to two or three thousand persons within its walls. It is built of Portland stone, after the first designs

of Inigo Jones and Sir Christopher Wren, and is, in all respects, the most grand, beautiful and princely structure of the kind, that I have ever seen. It is not, like St. Pauls, and the other fine buildings of London, deformed with smoke and coal dust, but retains all the neatness which it had in the days of William and Mary, its royal founders. I shall not attempt a minute description of Greenwich hospital, because it would not be very intelligible unless accompanied by drawings.

We were conducted into a magnificent room, originally intended for a dining hall, but now not used. The walls and ceiling are adorned with very fine and appropriate paintings, but these fine pictures are seen in so imperfect a manner from below, that the effect is in a great measure lost. In this apartment there is a model of a Roman galley presented by Lord Anson.

Opposite to the dining hall is the chapel, an exquisitely beautiful room, decorated with the highest efforts of painting and architecture. The altar-piece was painted by Mr. West, and represents the shipwreck of St. Paul. It is a very large, and, as it appeared to me, a very fine pic

ture.

Our guide was a venerable old pensioner, and wore something like a uniform. I inquired whether it was the badge of his office, as guide through the chapel. The old man's heart was not yet cold to naval pride, and the dignity of rank; and, while he informed me that this dress was worn by all those who had been boatswains, I could read in his countenance some displeasure at my ignorance of his former consequence.

We walked at leisure under the lofty colonnades, and through the extensive courts of the hospital. Every where

we met those veterans, who, after encountering the dangers of the ocean and of battle, and facing death in its most dreadful forms, are now quietly counting the last sands of life as they run. A comfortable provision for their old age, is an act of common justice, due to them from their country, but, small is this compensation for a life mercilessly cut off from all the charities of home, and for mutilated limbs, and broken constitutions. Their minds seemed to be very vacant; they were lounging, walking, or playing at cards, or sitting in listless silence. Some of them had but one leg; others none. They were dressed in a coarse blue cloth, and appeared to be well provided for. The number of out-pensioners is about three thousand, so that the whole number of persons belonging to the institution is five or six thousand. This hospital is the exact counterpart of that at Chelsea; as the latter is devoted to the land, the former is confined to the sea service. Greenwich hospital does great honour to the country, and is, without doubt, an institution unrivalled among the charitable establishments of the world. It is beautifully situated on the banks of the Thames, and is surrounded by fine verdure, fine views, and free air, while it is quiet as a hamlet.

Immediately back of Greenwich hospital is the extensive park of the same name. Greenwich was formerly a royal residence, and the seat of a palace, to which, I presume, this park must have belonged. We walked through it, and found it a delightful spot. It is varied with hill and dale, and on one of the hills a curious scene is exhibited, at a grand merry making of the populace of London, and its vicinity, which is held here in May, every year. It is an annual freak, of coarse popular sport, the existence