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ties. Those possess all the freshness of youth ; there is nothing old, wrinkled, or mouldy in their physiognomy, and, take them for all and all, there is nothing in the old world to compare with them. Here, I mean in the old world, you will see the two extremes, not only of riches and poverty, splendour and decay, but of every thing else, treading on each oher's heels, or elbowing one another side by side. The palace and the hovelthe new temple and the mouldering ruin—the saint and the sinner in the same cart--the king, the beggar, and the pickpocket, in the same proces. sion. Worcester is famous for its manufactory of porcelain, which I visited, but feel incompetent to describe, so as to enable you to comprehend the process; so I refer you to other authorities, if you wish for the particulars. It is one of the most ancient episcopal jurisdictions in England, and numbers a succession of between fourscore and a hundred bishops, among whom are one pope and four saints; all of which lived previously to the reformation. To the utter disgrace of the protestant church, it has not produced a single saint, since that time, among all its bishops. The church of St. Helens is a most venerable old structure, which will be somewhat disfigured by a new tower they have nearly finished, for the purpose of reinstating a ring of bells. I left this place with regret, which is actually more than I can say of any other I bave yet been in here, owing to the disgusting coldness of English cities. From Worcester I proceeded towards Hereford, it being my intention to visit some of the picturesque scenery of the Wye, and thence take the mighty Snowdoun by the hair of his head. The road was one of the roughest I had yet travelled, but the country on either side abounded in fruit trees and flowers. The man who drove my vehicle assured me I might gather a rose, without being transported to Botany Bay, that paradise of English rogues. I ventured to pluck a beautiful one over the fence, and would you believe it, brother, was neither shot by a spring gun, caught in a man-trap, nor prosecuted afterwards for trespass! This I record as the first miracle which has happened to me in this country. I confess, however, a stout, square, roughfaced damsel did start out upon me, and bawl out something, which luckily I could not understand; for I do assure you, that notwithstanding the vulgar opinion on our side of the water, the English is not the national tongue of this country. In the various counties, particularly Somerset, Yorkshire, Cumberland, and elsewhere, I give you my honour, not one in a hundred can speak the English language. Were not my servant a sort of booby, who speaks all the languages of this island, except the English, I should be quite at a loss to understand or be understood. I am often reminded, by such little incidents as this of the rose, of the difference between this country and our liberal and plentiful land, in which a country gentleman or common farmer would be disgraced as a miser or a brute, who should refuse to a stranger or his neighbours his flowers or his fruit. Of the latter, indeed, no one scruples to pluck what he likes from the road-side without ever asking. Soon I came to the foot of Malvern hill, where I halted at a neat inn at its foot, with the determined purpose of going to the uttermost top, where, as I have read in all the picturesque tours, was to be seen one of the finests prospects in England. As I never am in a hurry to mount hills, I concluded to rest a while, and manage to get to the proper point a little before sunset. Accordingly, a couple of hours after dinner, I set forth, accompanied by a guide, one of those who do not speak English. I stipulated for
this; for I abominate a fellow, who always points out the most striking beauties first, instead of letting our eyes guide us. Besides, I cannot bear to have my feelings on these occasions spoiled by a fellow crying out “ charming," “ beautiful!" and all that, just like a parrot, or a fashionable belle, who has
other beauties than her own. In my opinion, brother, the very first excellence of this fine view is, that the ascent to it is not fatiguing. Fatigue destroys the very essence and being of delight. I have often, in my own country, climbed a rugged precipice to see a fine prospect, and when I got to the top, felt as if I could lie down and die, I was so tired. But the ascent of Malvern hill is all upon an easy slope, covered with velvet grass. Were it more laborious, however, it would pay well, for it is indeed a noble throne for the very king of the picturesque. The evening was a little hazy, and the atmosphere presented that soft sleepiness of hue, on which the soul, at least mine, reposes with such measureless luxury. The fields just beneath, were some of them in the sun, some in the shade, and their different tints were like the first and second of two well-tuned instruments, producing variety and harmony. Farther off, landscape faded by imperceptible gradations into less of the bright green, and more of the sky blue. The white houses were sprinkled among villages, and lawns, and woody groves, whose foliage was all in soft fleeces. Among these, through the vale of Evesham, I saw two little rivers, like white ribands, waving and meandering along; and in the distance the Welsh mountains, whose outlines could hardly be distinguished from the blue sky. On inquiring the names of these streams, I made out to comprehend from my guide, that one of them, the smallest, was the Avon. name of this river conjured up visions and recol
lections of Shakspeare, to whom it is for ever consecrated, and mingled what was alone wanting in my impressions, the charm of moral association, with all that is beautiful to the eye. Perhaps in all England there was not, at that moment, a heart more devoted to the memory of their favourite bard, than mine, a solitary, unknown, and unobserved native of a world, that probably Shakspeare never thought of, or his genius, which pervaded all space, would not have overlooked the new and beautiful allusions, with which it might have furnished him. In all the plays of Shakspeare, I believe there is nothing remotely alluding to America, although some of the dramatic writers, who were his cotemporaries, but who outlived him, make frequent mention of Virginia, and “the Virginian voyage."
Long after the sun went down, I lingered on the top of this beautiful hill, for the moon rose as the sun set, and what was before clothed in gold, appeared, if possible, more chaste and lovely, apparelled in silver. The next day 1 proceeded on towards Hereford, through an exuberant hop country, rich also in every other production of English husbandry, as well as in pastoral beauty and fine houses, to a tolerably miserable town, the name of which I think is Ledbury, for it is so equivocally written in my memorandum book, that I will not swear to it. The next day I arrived at a place noted in days of yore.
Hereford looks dull and is dull. There is no deception in the place; for in approaching, it presents a heavy, flat appearance, very different from Worcester. There is little to be gleaned here, except old tales about Griffin the Welshman, Algar the Englishman, Leofgar the Bishop, and William Fitz-Osborne, with remains of English and Roman antiquities; all which is to be found in every book of travels, and all which you are as well acquainted with as myself. The picturesque tourists come hither for the purpose of viewing the scenery and ancient remains of the river Wye, which abounds in some of the finest landscapes to be seen in this country, and they all make a point of repeating over the same things. Among the public buildings here, the Cathedral is the principal; and of all parts of a cathedral, the most interesting to me are the old tombs to be found in most of them. Here is to be seen a number of these, most of them erected in meniory of bishops and ecclesiastics. Among them, however, is one representing a figure in close armour, with the hands raised in prayer, the usual fashion of the more ancient tombs. The figure had a wooden leg, whence I concluded he