The Valley Virginian. [volume] (Staunton, Va.) 1865-1895, 1880-01-01

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across the sky.
1 Stiff In orr limbs. with tender feet and
/ heavy heads, the effects Of winter voyage
! across tie ocean. q tour round chr chamber
| contentcd IL on this our first day in the
great netropolis. Looking out on the
cloudy, muggy, dark and wretehed streets,
( strangely illumined with ilickering gas
| LIGHTS, if the author did not for the first time
/ in his life. wish himself another man, he
certainly wis. ed himself in another place.
The vitality of our youth was not to be
quenciie J. li,eweyer. by such scenes, anu
| substituting the philosophy OF maturer years
| for any depressing heaviness under which
we were suffering. we soon plucked up splr'
| its. aud In few weeks commenced those
explorations which have left Us eyer since,
| like Mr.. Webster, wondering" There Is no
romance about The London Of the present !;
| tourists have iuthmaged from end to end
1 Il Is known the world over fron Beigravia
J! t. Bethnei Green. from Ca,nberwell Ito
! Campdentowp. Yet it still interests and
! fills the stranger with establishment. The
| more he knows Of it, the more ne wishes to
know. Widely understood as ii may be, the
number familiar with that great capital Is
| infinitesimal when compared with the seden-
tary world who are almost totally ignorant
| OF all but its name. This is some excuse, il
not al ample apology, for re-telling the old
| story of its wonders and mysteries.
The stranger in London is bewildered at
| its extent. its gloomy grandeur, its grim
magnifieence. He secs before him a labyr-
inthine confusion OF streets, straight, broad
and spacious. narrow, crooked and filthy,
according to locality, and intersectiDg each
| other at every possible angle. With cor
rect general idea Of the metropolis, gather
| ed from a chart. lie cannot find his way
/ from one quarter to another without the aid
of guide, or even retain his knowledge OF
the points of the compass, unless he remains
| In the vicinity Of such leading thoroughfares
as the Strand, Oxford Street or Piecadilly.
He may spend weeks. as was our case, with
| all the ardour OF an explorer, perambulating
| the sidewalks and visiting the principal
objects OF curiosity, aud still have an imper-
feet idea OF the place. The mass OF high
| ways aud byway 5 is still as Intricate as a
Chinese puzzle, though during the last
decade large sums have been expended in
strengthening old aud opening new avenues
for the purpose OF simplifying the system
of streets aai more readily accommodating
the Traffic.
eit 4 q 4
Temple Bar, and covers an area of little more
than one square mill, and contains popu-
lation OF III. 7S4 persons Gully. AS the gate
way is without beauty. and obstruets the
most crowded of London's thoroughiares,
its retention Is a striking illustration of the
conservative character OF the English mind,
of the tenacity with which our ancestors
cling to whatever is old.
Passing this barrier, we are in the city
properly so called. 1t is not the city OF former
times, full OF densely inhabited houses and
fine residences, belonging to the chief mer-
chants, the landed gentry and the nobility
the great landlords of the country the
city, as ii once was, of small. and narrow
streets, of mean lath and plaster houses on
rickety wooden frames and OF all imaginable
| sizes and shapes; the city of badly cleansed
and foully smelling streets, and OF desola-
/ ting plaques bursting forth from time to
time and carrying off myriads OF people.
| On the contrary it is the city par excellence
of the trade, business and commerce OF the
modern world. The city OF the Bank, the
| MJ,,fo tbaI Ex-ntYa har nd
Cornhill and Mincing Land, of warehouses
/ and Counting rooms, of vaults and offices,
In Il Nord, OF those great commercial houses
whose extended operations embrace the en-
tire globe. fhe city where the Bankers,
brokers, merchants, stock iobbers, money
changers, jew and Gentle, most TO love to
coneregate, and where they regularly cast
| up the accounts Of the world
Fleet street and the Strand are the great
arteries of the city, and, passing by Temple
Bar from ChariEg Gross, extend to Ludgate
| Hill where St. Paul's rears its towering front.
| Here making the circuit Of the Cathedral
and thence branching into Cbeapside, Poul-
try, CornhiIl and Cannon streets. These
are few only Of the great arteries through
which the tide Of population and business
flows. Thousands Of others in all directions
are daily choaked With vehicles and myTiads
| of human beings who swarm like bees on
every spot.
Around this focus OF business have grown
up, with incredible rapidity, the different
quarters known as Brompton, iiammefsmitb,
st. Johns Wood, etc., which with the city
constitute what is known as the Metropolis.
or the Metropolitan district, spreading over
an area is miles long by IA wide, and con-
tanning population Of about 8, 800, 900 souls.
This is the monster London which has been
/ so well styled a province covered with
| houses. The houses are built almost entire
ly of brick and are generally inferior in size,
architectural ornament and imposing APP
pearance. They inspire no idea, indeed,
that they are the palaces Of the rich and
great. The hun id atmosphere, causing the
smoke to settle down upon the dwellings !;
| they soon change their color, the brick be-
coming OF lirgy gray, the whole assuming
dreary and dismal appearance. Bucking-
ham Palace, tue residence Of the Queen, and
on which vast sums have been lavished,
during the reign of George Nv and since, is
not equal to many of the country seats of
the nobility. and St. James Palace, where
the Royal Drawing~rooms or receptions are
| held, and which was the town residence o I
the royal family until the succession of
Queen Victoria, is low, red brick building
resembling a lying-in-hospitsl, for which
purpose it was originally intended. Ex-
cepting st. Paul's Cathedral, Westminster
Abbey, the New Paliament Houses, Somer-
set House, the British Museum, the Univer-
sity of London, the principal club houses,
and some of the fine old historical residences,
such as Northumberland and Chesterfield
houses and the new hotels, there is little in
the way Of architectural beauty or symmetry
of which London can boast. 1t is a monot-
onous wilderness of brick aud mortar, where
the stranger sees little evidence, save upon