The age-herald., 1899-08-29

in foreign land is like reading an inter- esting book by glimpses and chapter head ings-a word here and there, and perhaps a vivid picture now and then by way of illustrations; but l can hardly agree with the saying, for when one makes a eomfor- table stay and goes sightseeing in a com- paratively leisurely way, a really distinct idea and impression is obtained of each place visited. With the words of the im- mortal Shakespeare in mind-"I pray you, let us satisfy our eyes with the memorials and the things of fame that do renown this city" We have with conscious delight flown from place to place in our eagerness to see and learn. pr. Johnson said that "he who is tired of London is tired of eX- istence," and one can very easily agree, for London affords one so ever changing a phase of existence that no matter how world weary the heart might be somewhere within it's precincts amusement and relief from ennui might be found. On a first visit London is so overpowering and vast that one scarcely gets acquainted or on real speaking terms with her; yet it is de- lightful even then and if anything can be more utterly satisfactory than this first visit to England-Shakespeare's precious stone set in the silver sea"-it is second o. perehance, a third visit Then one learns to turn aside from the noisy scenes Of the more prominent points of interest and seek pleasure in the hallowed spots where men we have grown to know in their books once congregated and passed through the prosaic or interesting scenes of their lives. Or, perchance, to the place where lies all that is left of their mortal bodies. The Strand is always q faVorite and famil- jar street to visitors; commencing as 1t does at Charging Cross, where, as Dr. Johnson said, is the full tide of existence, 1t passes on until it becomes Fleet street, which is well known to all readers of Dick ems. On the Strand stands the church of St. Clement Danes, where Dr. Johnson sat in church repeating" as Boswell says, ''the responses of the Litany with tremu lous energy" little further down is Mid dle Temple hall, in Fleet street, where Shakespeare's Twelfth Night was perform ed soon after it's production in 1901, and is probably the only remaining building in which one of his plays was seen by his contemporaries. The Temple, formerly lodge of the Knights Templar, the religious and military order of the twelfth century, twice owned by various monarchs and now the property of the corporations of the Middle and Inner Temple courts, is one of the most interesting scenes in London; and the old English oak ceiling and screen are considered the finest to be seen. The Tenn pie garden is the place where Shakespeare makes the partisans of the houses of York olA fhsY rA1 nd white rose as their respective badges. little further on is a quaint old building called "The Mitre," the tavern once fre- quented by Johnon, Goldsmith and Bos- we'll
 In Wine Office Court is still the famous old hostelry of the Cheshire Cheese, where is still preserved the chair of Dr. Johnson, and where he and Goldsmith so often dined and where the ever faithful Boswell hs- tened and faithfully took notes In Cough Square, at the top of the narrow, quaint old lane, is the house where Johnson la bored over his dictionary and his other works In Fetter Lane, close by. the fla nous angler, Izaak Walton. once occupied a shop as hosier Up Chancery Lane we went to the New Record office and had
 
 record of all 'a landed property of Great Britain, wf. was ordered made by Will liam the c ueror that he might fairly estimate and tax his new possessions. Ger tainly a quaint old book. all in Latin, but then Time also has a "Doomsday Book" upon whose pages he is continually record ing illustrious names.
 Of the Strand towards the Thames is all that is left of the old Roman baths, one of the few relics of the Roman period in London. Straight north of the Bank of England, which alone in London has the power to issue its own bills, lies Bunhill Fields. For many a year there have been no fields within miles. It is a thfckly sown, but now disused cemetery, straight through which constantly passes a crowd ed procession of pedestrians over a mar row paved and fenced pathway. On either hand lie multitudes of non-conformists, the sweet singer, Isaac Watts; the mad artist, William Blake, and Richard Cromwell, son of Oliver Cromwell. Across the street stands John Wesley's statue, with the characteristic inscription, "The world is my parsh;" but even more impressive are two tombs in the cemetery. Not far apart stands that of Daniel Defoe, simply in- scribed 1.-The Author of Robinson Cru soe,'" and that of John Bunyan, bearing two opposing bas-reliefs, Christian setting out from the City of Destruction, and los ing his burden at the foot of the Cross. On our way thither we passed through Smithfield and old St. Bartholomew's church, the very oldest church in London, and near to Smithfeld Market, where Bloody Mary lighted the fires for the im- provement of heretics. Here the noble Sir William Wallace, John Rogers and Wat Tyler met their fate in various man. ner outside the city wall long before Ty- burn, far out in Marylebone road, was heard of. Our drive brought us back then to 'Christ's Hospital" a school for 1000 boys and $50 girls, founded by Edward VI. The original costume of the boys is still retained consisting of long blue gowns. yellow stockings and knee brooches, and a queer-looking set they were, all at play in the court yard. No head covering is worn, eyen in winter Among the 'Blue- Coat