, 1888-01-22

LONDON, Dec. 2S.-"Write about some
thing that has never been written about be-
FORE were the final words of the genial edi-
tor whose eyes will search this record with
Jealous inquiry as to how far his injunction
has been obeyed. That the recommendation
carries a patent impossibility in its train will
make no difference, nor the fact of the piling
of centuries since the wiscst and saddest of
mankind wrote, 'Of making of many books
there is no end but placed on record, before
and after, as if in mockery of book makers
through all time, There is nothing new un-
der the sun"
The modern editor believes with Napoleon
the Great, however, that there is no such
word as impossible, and that there is always
an undiscovered inc or two to reward the
patient seeker; and in one sense he is right,
for no two pairs of eyes have ever seen the
same sight at either the same visual or
mental angle, and history, for this reason, is
as susceptible of variation today Us it has
been since time began and will be till time
ends.
My business, however, is not with history
or its variations, save indirectly and in such
degree as both arc bound up in every foot OF
this old world, in which tho same human pas
sions are almost the sole thing in common
with the new. Yet the American who wakes
for the first time on English soil, has a
curious sense that this is the actual homo and
all that background from which he has
emerged, an accident, but not the real living,
nor TO be quite real till full knowledge of
this first possession has become n part of it.
1t is certain, too, that tho American knows
the treasures of the past, very far beyond the
Londoner of today, who, unless made Of OK
ceptional stuff, regards deep interest in any
thing as very bad form, and gazes with
supercilious inquiry at the eager tourist.
And as tourists are of many orders, and n
portion at least elect 10 agree with their
critic and regard London simply as II spot in
which living during the season may be pos
sible, but not one moment beyond the end OF
that mysterious and intangible boundary
line, it follows that for many the real Lon
don remains unknown, its treasures Of art
and association, and all that makes our COM
mon inheritance, a Sealed book.
This division may be left quite out of the
question, their mission being chiefly TO be
little tho word American, and 10 give an
added ground to the conviction held by a
large proportion of English people, that
American and snob are inevitable synonyms.
TIL fabulous expenditure of money, the as
surance, the push, the utter obtuseness of
many, has craven the impression in lines
too deep for any present effs"ament, and it
is only the knowledge that below this sur
face, the essential elements of each country
hb hllnBlllB HlOIb ulu ulDItt anu IlhI
unison of thought and feeling on vital
points is more and moro actual, that pre-
vents utter encouragement at some of the
outward aspects.
1t is not, then, the chance tourist who is
likely to know London, or any of its corners,
odd or otherwise. Its immensely alone,
prevents anything but a bird's-eye view TO
the tarrier of n day or n week, and it is only
when one has settled down quietly to daily
life and suddenly realizes how much has
been taken in by unconscious absorption,
TINT real understanding begins, and one be-
comes fitted to search fof the odd corners.
These are not necessarily what have found
summary in guide books or been chronicled
even as individual discoveries by adven-
furious tourists. They may be hidden deep
in the network of lanes and alleys and
courts that mako up the city proper, in its
old sense, or may face the seekers at the
very next turn in n region where nothing
was expected, and prove sources of unending
pleasure and satisfaction.
Under this last head comes the corner from
which the present letter is sent out, and from
which daily excursions nrc made, long or
short, as the case may be, but all fruitful of
results, picturesque and otherwise. Chiefly
otherwise, save here and there, for the Surrey
side of the river is given over to many indus
tries, in which small room can DO found for
that word, or any other, holding hint of much
satisfaction to the eye. The most pleasing
feature of life on the Surrey side is the fact
that one or the other of London's beautiful
bridges must be crossed TO reach it. 1t may
be London bridge, on which the feet instinct
lively move to the old tune,
london bridge is broken down;
Dance over, my Lady Lee
or Waterloo, the "Bridge of sighs,n from
.ubf,b, hnvy fpapvr bprlrpIg ssy,In,r,- ~
breath, rashly importunate,n have gone to
their death; or Blackfriars', with the most
perfect view known to the city of st. Paul's,
and its soaring dome, rising high and calm
nbove the tumult and fret of the busy throng
below; or Westminster, fairest of all, on
which Wordsworth stood in the early morn
ing, and as he gazed, fell out line by line, the
perfect sonnet, known to all;
Earth has not anything to show more fair.
1.-THE river glideth ut his own sweet will ~
rs gently now as on that morning in the
second yeIr of the century, but there is little
else to assure us that the scene is the same.
The smokeless air 'long ago gave way to
that pail which hangs over London, obscures
vision, clings TO every s%culptured point Of
tower or pinnacle, and is the medium in
which one must live and move md have his
being in all days that London life is lived
There are battles royal between vapors and
sun, and the masses above the abbey towers
and the beautiful houses Of parliament AXE
on strange shapes and hues, rs that much
perplexed and baiIled luminary struggles
through its sunset, and for a few moments
asserts his right to rule. But he has short
space. Crimson and gold give way to gray
and black, and gray and black are the Lon
don c~olors, and make up chiefly what the
Londoner is pleased to call sky
1t is because larger possibility of more
agreeable shades lay about such names as
Chaplain common, Camberwell green, and
the many cheerful titles discoverable on
omnibus and tram, that search for n home on
the Surrey side began. Fare us one might,
north, west and east, always that sullen roar,
like the beat of n stormy sea against cliffs
always that sense of dim grayness merging
INTO something darker and more cherries
Over the river there must be escape. On the
borough road it might be; that borough roat
on which the Canterbury pilgrims rode out
on n morning, let us hope, less complicated
by fog and mist and smoke and SCOT thar
mornings that dawn in this year of our Lore
1887. But the borough proved as misleading
and beguiling a title as the rest, and was ever
a little more dingy and hopeless than it
predecessors, and the greens and common!