"The Lords, spiritual and temporal, and Commons, do, in the name of all the people of England, most humbly and faithfully submit themselves, their heirs and posterity forever," &c. I am sick of such stuff.

Adieu.

LETTER XXI.

LONDON, MARCH 28th.

HAD Theophrastus made a voyage to Britain, he might have embellished his treatise De Lapidibus with numberless lusi naturæ. That Spartan was, no doubt, a wag, who asked the Athenian "If trees grew square in his country?" Yet I know not why trees at Athens should not have been square, as well as that the quarries in England should produce stones of all dimensions, some in the form of cylinders, others square, and some round. Nor is this all; they not only grow in these convenient geometrical figures, but grow as smooth as the hand of art could polish them and not a few of them seem to be fluted, as though a chisel had been employed, particularly those in the form of cylinders. Among all the curiosities in the British Museum, I saw not one of these natural productions; a striking instance, how little mankind regard the greatest natural miracles which are within the observation of every body. Should one of these fluted columns be discovered in NewEngland, every man would turn antiquary. Yet I

should be sorry to see any of these fluted columns in our country, for our citizens would be so pleased with them, they might endeavour to force our quarries to conform to those of England, and that would be an endless undertaking.

With these ready made materials, it is no wonder, if many of their public buildings should be founded on a magnificent scale. St. Paul's is one, grand, entire, vast edifice, which does great honour to the Saint, and argues no little piety in the nation: yet where so much money is made by religion, it would look like ingratitude not to shew some little external respect to its founders. Yet St. Paul's is rather a niggardly building for a people who have sported away so much money. St. Paul's cost only £1,500,000 sterling.. Comparing the value of money at the period it was built, with the present value of money, we may suppose it cost £3,500,000: a trifle, which could never have been missed from the treasury, and which might have been reimbursed the nation in exchequer bills in two days.

The front of St. Martin's, its bold design, its majestic pillars, its elevated ground work, rising so gradually that the eye commands it without an ef fort, its weighty pedestals and spacious portico, frequently delay the stranger until divine service is over. I might thus run over, in description, the

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Royal Exchange, Somerset House, Westminster Abbey with a hundred others but they con

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vey no sentiment to the heart, no food to the mind, and scarcely the skeleton of an image to the imagination. Yet the Parliament House, I must particularly mention. It is a very old building, and from a western view, seems to have fallen from the clouds in disjuncta membra, and to have been blown together by a violent wind; so that the parliament and Parliament House are perfectly congenial. At different periods this building has undergone many improvements. There is quite a small portion of it called the House of Commons, which was formerly St. Stephen's chapel, which, a long period of time past, was devoted to what was then called religion. This part of the building is thought by many to be out of repair: but unfortunately it is situate so near the centre, and the approach to it is through so many windings, that you might as well pull down the whole edifice as undertake a repair. Beside, many of the occupiers of this apartment have an interest in the premises, and are naturally attached to a house which has cost them so much money; but, like many other people, rather than repair their house, they are willing to hazard its falling on their heads. Perhaps no human invention was ever more criticised, than this apartment. For in

stance; some have observed that it appears very well defined at a distance, but that internally it is little better than a labyrinth, that those who enter soon get bewildered, no longer know their former friends, and seldom return the same way they entered. Others have compared it to a worsted purse, extremely accommodating, capable either of contraction or expansion, at pleasure. Some have more ludicrously compared it to a puppet show, and have stretched the comparison beyond all bounds of toleration. After all, I think it the best room in the house.

A little lower down is another famous apartment, rather ornamental, than useful, called the House of Lords. Its size is a little less than the House of Commons. I never was in any place so well calculated for lounging, and I believe it a just remark, that most of those who find themselves on these satin seats lounge away the rest of their days. Indeed, government not unfrequently places restless men there to make them easy, such a wonderful influence have these satin seats on the spirits of men. A violent fever of ten or twenty years, has been known to change to a lethargy for life. Calypso never possessed a stronger influence over the nature of men, than do these satin seats.