The full extent of the passengers’ station from the carriage landing at the east end to the one at the west end, is 1160 feet. This noble building is an object of considerable attraction: it occupies a space of ground a quarter of a mile in length;—only half the building appears in our illustration. Great expedition was displayed by Mr. Brassey in its erection, for although the first stone was only laid in August 1847, on the 1st of August 1848 it was publicly opened for traffic.
The centre of the building, which is two stories in height, contains in the upper compartments, offices for the General Station Committee for the Chester and Holyhead, and the Great Western Railways; while on the ground floor, besides the usual offices and waiting rooms, we find the noble range of Refreshment Rooms, presided over with efficient zeal and attention by Mr. Hobday, and his select corps of experienced assistants. If after your late journey, you feel any of the cravings of the inner man,—if dinner à-la-mode lie uppermost in your thoughts—if you would enjoy an invigorating cup of coffee, unimpeachable pastry, a good glass of ale, or a fragrant cigar, take a turn in the Refreshment Rooms, and the utmost wish of your soul will be incontinently gratified.
The entire number of hands employed upon the passenger station is 109, and in the goods department 130, including clerks, porters, pointsmen, &c. Between seventy and eighty goods trains arrive and depart every twenty-four hours, averaging 1600 wagons daily. In 1855, somewhere about 684,000 tons of goods, minerals and livestock passed under the manipulation of Mr. H. Parker, general goods manager. The Station Committee manufacture their own gas, the consumption of which upon this station is about 6,500,000 feet per annum. The present gas and waterworks now need to be removed more to the south-east in order to afford additional station room—the smallness of the present immense building being a source of continual and growing inconvenience. [13]
Leaving now the Station, we see upon our left hand the lofty Shot Tower and Lead Works of Messrs. Walker, Parker and Co., proprietors of a similar establishment near London Bridge; while on the right our view is obstructed by the handsome and commodious Bridge which here stretches across the railway, and connects the city with its suburb, Flookersbrook. Those carpetbags and cloaks, by-the-bye, however useful they may be in their way, are but superfluous companions for a jaunt about the city. Suppose, then, we drop in at the Liver, a most respectable Hotel, within hail of the Station, and there depositing our luggage in one of the cosy bedrooms of that establishment, we will sally forth on our mission. After one night’s sojourn at this house you’ll know your, hotel, we promise you, for all future time. Wending our way into the city, along Brook Street, we come in due course to Cowlane Bridge, erected in 1776, when the canal which flows beneath it was originally projected.
From this point we have our first glimpse of the Cathedral and City Walls, and a venerable sight it is, as our little illustration sufficiently testifies. Towering aloft above surrounding objects the sacred fane of St. Werburgh, presents itself to our view, in all its massive but rugged proportions, as the mother church of a vast and populous diocese. Of the Cathedral itself, as also of the Walls, we shall have abundance to say by-and-bye.
Cast your eye to the right, along the hue of the City Walls, and at their north-east angle take a distant view of yon reverend turret, overhanging the Canal. How forcibly does it remind us that—
The days of old, though time has reft
The splendours they once cast,
Yet many a relic still is left
To shadow forth the past!
People call it, in these days, the Phœnix Tower; but two hundred years ago, and even then it was accounted old, the name it usually bore was Newton’s Tower. On its lofty ramparts, in 1645, stood the royal martyr, King Charles, to witness a sanguinary contest not far from the city, which ended in the total defeat of his troops by the parliamentary forces. In that day’s struggle, and in the Siege that followed it, many a Chester hero bit the dust; and the roll-call that evening proclaimed many an infant fatherless, many a wife a widow! But why should we anticipate? We shall soon be close to the very walls of this Tower, and may then soliloquise to our heart’s content on those terrible times.