On a very gloomy dismal day, just such a one as it ought to be, I went to see Westminster Abbey.

The joining of the whole congregation in prayer has something exceedingly solemn and affecting in it.

You see in the streets of London, great and little boys running about in long blue coats, which, like robes, reach quite down to the feet, and little white bands, such as the clergy wear.

Whilst in Prussia poets only speak of the love of country as one of the dearest of all human affections, here there is no man who does not feel, and describe with rapture, how much he loves his country.

A traveller on foot in this country seems to be considered as a sort of wild man or out-of-the way being, who is stared at, pitied, suspected, and shunned by everybody that meets him.

I am very sorry to say that I rejoiced when I once more perceived the towers of Windsor behind me.

These funerals always appear to me the more indecent in a populous city, from the total indifference of the beholders, and the perfect unconcern with which they are beheld.