aside to visit the source of the river he was so proud of. It was a warm summer;-there had been no rain for three weeks, and the spring was dried up:-"Good God!" said he, with an expression of the utmost alarm and sorrow, "what ruin this must cause at London! What ever will the poor people do for water!" and his busy fancy conjured up a direful picture of a thousand ills consequent upon the stoppage of the stream: no more ships arriving at London, laden with the wealth of the world—the bankruptcy of rich merchants-the shutting up of 'Change-the failure of the Bank of England -the anguish of ruined families-and the death of thousands in the agonies of thirst!

The Germans tell a similar story of a traveller who visited the springs of the Danube, and which, as we are upon this subject, may serve as a pendant to the story of our cockney. The traveller in this case was a Swabian, and whenever the Germans wish to palm off a joke, a Swabian is sure to be the butt. On noticing in what a small stream the water trickled at the source of that great river Danube, he formed the bold resolution of stopping it up! He put his hand across it; and as he fancied the various cities upon its course deprived of their supply of water by his deed, he exclaimed, in the pride of his heart, "What will they say at Vienna ?"

Having now, O reader, traced with thee this glorious river, from London upwards to its fountain head-having diverged with thee sometimes to the right hand and sometimes to the left, in search of memorials of history and antiquity, and pleasant recollections of biography, romance and poetry; having lingered in leafy woods, by flowery hedge-rows, and in enamelled meads, wherever it was likely we might find quiet and seclusion, and food for meditation; traced footpaths leading into lonely spots, and wandered into unfrequented places, in search of health for the body and amusement for the mind-we are now ready for another series of rambles in thy company, which we shall commence accordingly in our next chapter.

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CHAPTER III.

The Return to London. -The Shipping.-Gower the Poet. -Grave of Massinger.- Origin of Billingsgate.-Geoffry Chaucer and the Custom House. The Prisoners of the Tower of London. - St. Katherine's Hospital and Docks. The Lord Mayor and the Lion. The London Docks. The Poetry of Commerce. The Thames Tunnel. - Wapping and Rotherhithe.- The Commercial Dock. - The Isle of Dogs.

E proceed, in pursuance of our original plan, to follow the Thames to the sea, and note his memorabilia in that more important part of his course. As London was our first point of departure, so it must be our second. We must again take ship at London Bridge; and as we sail through the narrow passage left by the all but innumerable vessels that are moored on either side, take a longer view, and consider at greater length than when our course was upwards, the mercantile glories of England.

It is a trite remark, that the world in general

does not appreciate either the beauties or the advantages which are continually in its sight. How few of the inhabitants of London are sufficiently aware how truly magnificent in every respect is the spectacle of this forest of shipping. Even to the eye how picturesque are these black hulls, reposing in the water, with their taper and elegant masts, adorned with the banners of every civilized nation, pointing upwards to the sky. But how much more beautiful the prospect becomes, when we reflect, how great the cultivation of the arts of peace must have been before such an assemblage of the engines of commerce could ever have been collected together. Were it not for these vessels, and the myriads that crowd the ports of England, how low we should be in the scale of nations, how little would be the progress of manufacture, of science, of art, and of literature. These heavy-looking hulls are the depositories of the national wealth, which they bring from every nook of the globe, to be afterwards distributed into the humblest cottages of the realm. By their means the ploughman and the artisan of England fare better than the kings and nobles of a barbarous age; having a more comfortable dwelling to keep out the wind and rain, and sleeping

upon a softer bed than the great men of antiquity. By their means also the shopkeeper enjoys luxuries which all the wealth of a feudal chief could never have purchased; and new wants are continually created, all tending, in the effort to supply them, to raise mankind in the scale of civilization.

But before we sail downwards with the tide, and get out of sight of the mass of buildings composing ancient London, we must not forget that many of them solicit our attention. We shall have more to say of the shipping and its wonders when we arrive at the docks. The approaches to the new bridge have been the