The Marquis of Westminster, one of the wealthiest noblemen of the kingdom, has a princely palace and parks in the neighborhood well worth a visit.
From Chester I proceeded to the great manufacturing city of Birmingham, and on to Bristol, in the west of England, a large seaport upon the Severn, with its suburban places of resort, Clifton and Hotwells, much frequented by families and invalids during the winter, on account of the mildness of the climate, and the picturesque and romantic scenery. The first steamships, the Sirius and Great Western, were sent to New York by a Bristol Company. It is a curious old city, but contains nothing very striking for the traveller.
Bath, renowned by the bards and poets, lies upon the Avon, and has some forty thousand inhabitants; it is prettily situated and well built; is celebrated for its hot springs, and is quite full at this season of the year with invalids. The weather was mild for the winter; the fields were still quite green, and vegetables were exposed in the gardens. The Great Western Railway passes through Bath. The living is good, after the English style, roast beef, mutton chops, plum-pudding, Cheshire and Stilton cheese, ale, porter, and old port wine, being the chief articles of consumption; there is no table d’hôte at the public houses; parties dine separately at hotels in a very unsocial manner.
The approach to Birmingham via Wolverhampton, for twenty miles along the railway line, early in the evening, presented a curious spectacle, and reminded me of a close proximity to the infernal regions; the hundreds of furnaces for the manufacture of coke, iron, and steel, throwing out their lurid glare of light and smoke, whose fires rarely die out, surpassed those of any part of England I had seen, and filled me with awe and admiration of this immense branch of industry.
Coming over the Great Western Railroad to London, there is much to admire, and many places worth a detour or a visit; among these are the Universities at Oxford, and the residence of the Queen at Windsor Castle, all of which I had formerly seen.
At Sydenham, twenty miles from London, now stands the Crystal Palace. Its lofty towers, two hundred and forty feet in height, are not yet complete; its elevated position commands the whole country; the parks are being beautifully ornamented. It so far excels what it was when I saw it in Hyde Park, at the time of the Exhibition, that I shall not attempt to describe it. Suffice it to say, the Egyptian, East Indian, Moorish, and Italian departments, representing so faithfully the architecture, painting, statuary, and inscriptions of those countries were to me an invaluable souvenir. The Oriental department, kept up to tropical heat in midwinter, with fragrant plants and flowers, fish swimming in the fountains, birds chirping and singing in the presence of huge Indian deities upon the façades of temples, almost transports one to the banks of the Ganges.
A return to the city, with its teeming population of two and a half millions, crowded thoroughfares, bustle and confusion, soon dispels the illusion. The winter is no time for sight-seeing in London, as the smoke or fog oftentimes prevent your seeing more than a few steps before you; indeed at eleven A.M. the gas lights are sometimes still burning. All navigation upon the Thames is suspended; horses and vehicles and foot passengers grope their way in the dense obscurity.
The communication from London to Paris, via Dover and Calais, or Folkstone and Boulogne, is made in twelve or fourteen hours, at an expense of three pounds five shillings, say fifteen dollars. The English railway fares are more than double those of the United States. The same remark will apply to the general expenses of life.
The Parisians are preparing for the Carnival, when masked balls will be all the rage, and the “Bœuf Gras” or fat ox, will be paraded through the streets on “Mardi Gras”.