Wood County reporter. [volume] (Grand Rapids [i.e. Wisconsin Rapids], Wis.) 1857-1923, 1878-07-11

We'll, here we are, in this gay,
wicked and wonderful city. We ar
rived four days ago from London
It is Sunday, but you would not think
SO to look out upon the streets. Sun
day is the liyeliest day Of the week
here, and the hum and crash Of bust
ness, and the whirl of gayety, almost
browns the sound Of the great bells,
as their chimes ring out from the tow
ering domes Of the Nore Dame,
Church Of the Moydoltne, and hun
drcd other noted temples.
But this letter [ cannot devote to
Paris, but must give some of my ex-
pericnce in London, of which [ had
not room to write in my last. There
is perhaps no place in London, and
few in the world, of wider fame and
greater historic interest than West
minister Abbey, where we attended
service yesterday morning. Every
body goes to Westminster, and every
one writes their impression" about
it. [ have duriag the week made up
my mind a score Of times or more,
not to say one word about the Abbey,
simply because I cannot say what |
feel. It is a shrine towards which all
footsteps bend, and 1T needs no chat
tering guide to point the way. 1t was
founded more than thousand years
ago, and passing time only adds to the
interests Of its memorials It is an
immense structure, covering acres OF
ground, with grand aisles, massive
columns and colossal dome. and is fill
ed in every part with marble memo
rails of distinguished dead. 1t IS in
short, the burial place Of the kings,
princes, statesmen, poets and warriors
Of England, and the sanctuary Of
their noble efigies. AS one treads
beneath the stupendous arches. and
along the fretted cloisters of this sa-
cred spot, and thinks Of the great pro-
cessions Of distinguished men and wo-
men, who, during the vanished centu-
ries, have passed through here, and
now lie pulseless beneath your feet,
the heart almost ceases to throb, and
you stand still, awe~stricken and dumb.
Imposing and grand indeed, were the
monuments of kings and those of roy
al blood, but the 'Poet's Corner" in
terested me the most. go, rare Ben
Johnson" first caught the homage OF
nv eyes, and there as looked up to
the ceiling above, | caught the index
to the bust of Milton. Further on
and stood face to face with the mon
ument of Dryden; while through the
forest of marble CLEANS like star the
name of Pope. Every nook and angle
becomes radiant with the Inscription
of immortal names. At every foot
step | tread upon the dust of poets.
Samuel johnson and Sheridan side by
side, and Garrick resting near. Gold
smith looked down With his marble
eyes upon the august sleepers, and the
stately monument of Campbell, reveal
ed the pleasures of Hope in a
mansion not made with hands. There
were many other illustrious names OF
those divinely anointed with the MUSES..
and high above all, shepherding the
illustrious throng, was the imperial
bust of Shakespeare. Further on were
the tombs of kings and heroes; the
crumblcd pomp and power of centu-
ries. There were Saxon and Norman,
sleeping quietly together, forgetful OF
the fierce feuds shat divided them in
life. There lay the roses of York and
Lancaster, withered to common dust
There lay the stately Elizabeth, WIZ
crushed the woman in the sovereign;
and gentle Mary Queen Of SCOTS, who
forgot the sovereign in the woman
There lay the tyrant, Edward the
First, the sanity Edward the Comics
sor, the bastard James the Second
and the brutal Henry the Eighth
There they sleep in the stately tombs.
some imploring with alabaster hand;
the mercy of that heaven they spurn
cd in life; some resting in stately
vaults, beneath deliberately wrought
slabs; some nesting in dingy crypts;
some elevated on high pedestals
Very grand and imposing are these
royal tombs. but they could not win
my heart from the more humble and
enduring monuments Of the s'King Of
Thoughts" Power which is born OF
earth, rs the creature Of to day, but