From St. Giles’ we wandered into a church near by, where a young man was preaching to a large congregation. From his fine presence and good voice, we hoped to hear also a good sermon—but were disappointed. He seemed to suppose the Creator knew but little, and that it was his duty to inform Him: he told Him of the needs of London, and especially of the wants of his churchpeople. The only good part of the service was the music.
Later, we seated ourselves on a Thames steamer, which had evidently put on its Sunday dress, and sailed up to Kew. I can give to you no description of these beautiful gardens. They contain, I believe, the largest conservatories in the world. The ferns and the palms were forests of cool, green loveliness. The Victoria Regia lily is here, in unsurpassed beauty. We wandered off into a shady, retired nook, and seated ourselves on the grass, a lovely sheet of water in front of us, birds trilling their vespers about us, and the myriads of blossoms wafting to us their fragrant incense. It was all to us a sermon that was good for us. ‘For thou, Lord, hast made me glad through thy works; and I will rejoice in giving praise for the operations of thy hands.’
Next, we went by carriage to Richmond, a place of great historic interest and attractions. The drive was beautiful. The distant views were lovely. We passed many stately residences, surrounded by well-kept grounds, ivy and flowers in abundance. But the English will build high walls about their country homes, thus shutting themselves, oyster-like, from the passers-by. These unsightly walls spoil what would without them delight the eye. We stopped on Richmond Hill to see the beautiful views from that elevation, and were well repaid. The river going on and on, the meadows, the hills, the elms and the chestnuts throwing dark shadows, the heaths and downs, the farm-houses and the mansions, Windsor in the distance, and the peculiar mellowness of the whole landscape, were worth the looking upon. At Hampton Court we took a look at the rich tapestries and the paintings, including the ‘Hampton Court Beauties.’ This old court has echoed to the footsteps of many kings and many noted in history. Cardinal Wolsey fitted the place up in regal style, meaning to give it the honor of his own presence, but King Henry looked on with jealous, envious eyes, and asked him his reasons for having made so costly a palace. The wily Cardinal was ingenious in his reply, answering—‘To show how noble a palace a subject may offer to his king.’ This palace is now used as a home by members of the nobility whose incomes have been reduced. We spent a short time in the park and then started toward London, a distance of twelve miles or more. We were fortunate in securing front seats on a tally-ho coach, drawn by four handsome gray horses. We stocked ourselves well with delicious fruit, which the venders pass up to us on poles, temptingly arranged in little baskets, and on we went over a beautiful road, through the glorious Bushey Park, with its majestic elms and chestnuts. ‘O, we have no such rural beauty as England!’ said I. ‘But we shall have when we are as old,’ said my true American beside me.
And that reminds me of what a gentleman at Leamington said, in answer to my question, ‘How do you get the beautiful green your lawns wear?’
‘We only water the grass,’ he replied.
‘But,’ said I, ‘we keep our American lawns well watered and they do not look like yours.’
‘You forget, Madame, that we have watered ours for centuries,’ said he with a smile.
At last we enter the city, and drive through, through, through it, a long, long way. Crowds of people in the streets, crowds in the parks, crowds everywhere! Men are preaching on the corners, women singing, members of the Salvation Army exhorting and praying, and at last we reach our journey’s end safely. It is ten P.M., and yet not dark, so long are these English twilights!
June 25th.—The third one of our trio has again joined us, much to our satisfaction, and to-day we have been to the Crystal Palace, the Zoological Gardens, and have accomplished one hundred and one other things. In the palace there is much to be seen—pictures, sculpture, and other works of art. To-day an unusual crowd had gathered there to attend the concert in the large hall in the afternoon. We were fearful we might not be able, owing to the jam, to see all we came for, and here we desire to thank again the secretary of the association for his kindness toward us. If the English gentlemen are all like those we have come in contact with, I for one shall ever sing their praises. Here we heard ‘The Messiah’ by the ‘Handel and Haydn’ society. Albani and Lillian Norton were two of the artistes, which quite Americanized the company, and all were almost perfect in their parts. In the evening elaborate pyrotechnic displays were made, which with the colored lights and fountains, the bands playing, a company of ballet dancers performing out-of-doors, and the army of gayly dressed people, made it seem like veritable fairy-land. It is all alluring, but we must turn our backs upon it, as we have an invitation to ‘The Criterion’ to see Windom as David Garrick. The play was well acted, and when over, a supper at a fine restaurant near, where a choir of boys sang to us beautiful glees, with their sweet voices, ended another enjoyable day. We have seen much in London, and must leave much unseen, nor can I here tell you of the half we have seen, but have given you some ideas of what I thought you would best like to hear about.
Of our trip to Brighton I believe I have not said a word, but will now tell you a little about it, as it was different from any other. Brighton is the largest and most fashionable of all English watering-places, but as it is not yet the season there, the place had rather a deserted air. It is a city of brick, and the houses look as if built to remain forever, as does everything else in England. There is an esplanade of solid stone, with promenades on top; on the one side of it is the beach and sea, and on the other the large hotels and fine houses. A part of every day’s programme is to dress in one’s best, and promenade up and down the esplanade, but the promenaders all looked as solemn as if on their way to a funeral. The ladies smiled not, and the men looked as if they had iron pokers run up and down their backs, arms akimbo, heads bent back to assist the glass over one eye to stay in place,—all quite English, ‘you know.’ On the beach were plenty of ‘bathing machines,’ which are really bathhouses on wheels, bath-chairs, and children with their nurses, and in the surf a few bathers. The ladies seemed to have more on than our water-nymphs at Narragansett Pier, and the gentlemen apparently wore but little clothing; in fact, I was reminded of pictures I used to see in my geography, of the costumes worn by natives in—well, I think it was Africa; but they carried themselves, even in the water, with dignity. Our drive back to London on a tally-ho was delightful.