To Twickenham and Beyond.
Last summer we—there were seven of us—went one day up the Thames River to Hammersmith Bridge. Then we walked to Richmond, to pretty Teddington, and finally to beautiful old Hampton Court, with its long rows of trees, its big grape-vine, and its canals. Of course we saw much to interest us, from the odd Thames boats, which land and start so quickly, and which have on board small boys who repeat the captain's orders in a language which we vainly tried to understand, to the river-course over which the Oxford and Cambridge boat-races are annually rowed, and the breweries whose success has brought knighthood to their owners.
But that which most interested us was old Twickenham Church, which we saw by a side excursion. It is surrounded by old trees, and a yard in which are those curious tombstones that lie flat on the ground, and do not stand up as our American tombstones do. The church has a square Norman tower, and an interior that carries you back hundreds of years—almost, indeed, to the Reformation. Here is buried the remains of Alexander Pope, brought thither from Twickenham Villa not far away. We returned by train to London, so tired were we of limb, and so filled were our heads with history, reminiscence, and pretty pictures of rural life.
Anna Burton.
New York.