The views in the neighborhood of the city are singularly pleasing. The adjoining village of Clifton was once the most beautiful village in England, and may now be said to be the finest suburb. Here too, as well as at Bath, is the dismal sight of streets and crescents which have never been finished; the most dolorous of all ruins. It stands upon a hill above the river, which runs between high rocks and a hanging wood; a scene truly magnificent, and wanting nothing but clear water; the stream consists of liquid mud, and the banks are hideous unless the tide be full, for the tide rises here not less than forty English feet. The beauty of this scene is yearly diminishing; the rocks, which formerly rose so immediately from the river side, as only to allow room for a path, are used as quarries. The people of Bristol seem to sell every thing that can be sold. They sold their cross,-by what species of weight or measurement I know not,--they sold their eagle by the pound, and here they are selling the sublime and beautiful by the boat-load! One grand crag which has been left untouched shows what mischief has already been done. There is a cavern near the summit of this, of which the arch appeared remarkably fine as we looked up to it from the side of the river.

I tasted their famous medicinal water, which rises at the foot of these rocks; it is tepid, and so completely without any medical flavor as to be excellent water. In cases of diabetes it possesses some virtue; for consumption, which it is usually prescribed for, none whatsoever. Several unhappy patients, who had been sent here to die at a distance from home, were crawling out upon the parade as if to take their last gasp of sunshine. It was shocking to see them, and it is shocking to hear how thoroughly the people here regard death as a matter of trade. The same persons who keep the hotels furnish the funerals; entertain patients while they are living and then, that they may occommodate them all through, bury them when they die. There came here a young man from the North dying, with his sister to attend him. The disease sometimes, when it assumes its gentlest form, seems

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to terminate suddenly; and one morning when the sister rose to breakfast and inquired for him, she found he was dead. He had expired during the night; the people of the house said they thought they might as well not disturb her, so they had laid out the body, dressed it in the shroud, measured it for the coffin, and given all the orders-to take all trouble off her hands. You will think it scarcely possible that this scene of disease and death should be a place of amusement, where idlers of fashion resort to spend the summer, mingle in the pump-room and in the walks with the dying, and have their card-parties and dances within hearing of every passing bell.

Half a century ago Bristol was in size the second city in England. Manchester now holds that rank, and several other towns have outstripped it in population. There is less mercantile enterprise here than in any other trading English city: like the old Italians, the Bristol merchants go on in the track of their fathers; and, succeeding to enormous fortunes, find the regular profits so great that they have no temptation to deviate from the beaten way. The port is therefore yielding its foreign trade to bolder competitors; but it will always remain the centre of a great commerce with the Welsh coast, with Ireland, and all those inland countries which communicate with the Severn; a river navigable into the very heart of the kingdom.

There is in the streets nothing like the bustle of London, nor like the business of Liverpool on the quays. The Quay, however, is still a busy as well as a striking scene; and remains a noble monument of the old citizens, who made it in the thirteenth century. On one side, the shipping, the bridges, the church towers, and neighboring hill which overlooks the town of which it now makes a part, form a fine picture. On the other there is a cathedral with the old trees in its front, and the distant country. A third view has a wilder foreground with cranes and trees, and piles of goods intermingled, shipping of larger size, a fine row of houses upon a high terrace on the opposite side, and apart from them the church of St. Mary Redclift,

which is the finest parochial church in the kingdom, and is indeed far more beautiful than the cathedral. It is remarkable also, on this account, that it is the place wherein certain poems were said to have been found, attributed to a priest in the fifteenth century, which have occasioned as great a controversy as the Grenada Relics and with as little reason. It is now admitted that they were the production of Chatterton, the son of the sexton of the church, who poisoned himself at the age of eighteen, and is considered by the English as the most extraordinary genius that has ever appeared among them.

A few years ago, when Kosciusko came to this city on his way to America, great marks of honor were shown him, and many presents made him, both by the municipality and by individuals. Among others an honest gingerbread-baker thought, as he was going to sea, nothing could be more acceptable to him than a noble plumb cake for the voyage; he made him the very best which could be made, and a valiant one it was. It was as big as he could carry; and on the top, which was as usual covered with a crust of sugar, was written in colored sugar-plumbs-To the gallant Kosciusko. With this burden the good man proceeded to the house of the American consul, where Kosciusko was lodged, and inquired for the general. He was told that he was lying on the sofa, for his wounds were not at that time healed, and was too much fatigu ed and too unwell to see any one. 'Oh,' said the gingerbread-baker, he wo'nt be angry at seeing me, I warrant, so show me the way up; and pushing the servant forward, he followed him up stairs into the room. When, however, he saw the great man whom he was come to honor lying on a couch, with his countenance pale, painful, and emaciated, yet full of benevolence, the sight overpowered him: he put down his cake, burst into tears like a child, and ran out of the room without speaking a single word.

Having set out on my return, a natural impatience hurries me forward. I should else regret that I have not procured letters to Bristol, and allowed myself sufficient time to see thoroughly a city which contains

many interesting objects of curiosity, and of which the vicinity is so exceedingly beautiful.

LETTER LXXVI.

Fourney from Bristol to Plymouth-Advantages which the Army enjoys more than the Navy.-Sailors.-Fourney to Falmouth.

WE took our seats on the coach roof at five in the morning, and before we got out of the city received positive and painful proof that the streets of Bristol are worse paved than those of any other city in England. The road passes by the church of St. Mary Redclift, which is indeed wonderfully fine; it is built upon broken ground, and there are steps ascending to it in seve ral directions. I remember nothing equal to the effect which this produces. Women were filling their pitchers below it from a fountain, the water of which passes through the cemetery!-The houses formed a continued street for nearly half a league; then the views became very striking; behind us was the city, on one side the rocks of Clifton, and as we advanced we came in sight of the Bristol channel. We breakfasted five leagues on the way at Cross, a little village of inns; and then entered upon the marshes, the great grazing country of these parts.

Our next stage was to Bridgewater, where we crossed the Parrot by a hideous iron bridge. This river is remarkable because the tide, instead of rising gradual ly, flows in in a head; a phænomenon of which no satisfactory explanation has yet been discovered. From hence we proceeded to Taunton through a tract of country which for its fertility and beauty is the boast of the island. "Ah, sir,” said a countryman who was on the coach beside us, and heard us admiring it, "we have a saying about these western parts,

Cornwall's as ugly as ugly can be ;
Devonshire's better certainly;

But Somersetshire is the best of the three,
And Somersetshire is the country for me."

Taunton is a singularly pretty town, with a church of uncommon beauty. It was the great scene of cruelty after Monmouth's insurrection against his uncle James II. the greater number of the insurgents being of this country. One of the prisoners who was noted for being fleet of foot, was promised his life, if he would entertain Kirke the general with a display of his speed. He stripped himself naked; one end of a rope was fastened round his neck, the other round the neck of a horse, and they ran half a mile together, the horse going full speed. When the general had been sufficiently amused, and had gratified his curiosity, he sent the man to be hanged. Judge Jefferies, whose name is become proverbially infamous, went round to finish his work, and condemn all whom the soldiers had spared. The rebel peasantry were hanged up by scores, their quarters boiled in pitch, and set up in the streets and highways. James would not perhaps so easily have lost his crown, if he had not alienated the hearts of the people by these merciless executions. Kirke escaped all other earthly punishment than that of having his name handed down from father to son for everlasting execration; by abandoning the master whom he had served so wickedly, and joining William. The judge received a part of his reward in this world; after the flight of the king, he attempted to escape in woman's clothes, and the mob discovered him. They were prevented from pulling him to pieces upon the spot, but before he was rescued they had so handled him that he just lived to be three days in dying. Popular fury has, like lightning, more frequently struck the innocent than the guilty; but when it does strike the guilty it comes like lightning, as God's own vengeance, and leaves behind a more holy and wholesome awe than any legal execution how solemn soever it be made.

After dinner we advanced a league and half to Wellington, where I saw a fine lad who had lost both legs by the frost in 1798,-a melancholy proof of the seve