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upon its bosom the stately vessels of commerce, and then pours itself into the ocean, which flings its waters round the globe!!

On the brow of the hill near the seventh mile stone is a triangular brick building, raised to the memory of Sir William James, Bart. by his lady, and is beheld in every direction on account of the height of its situation, being 482 feet above the sea! He had the command of the company's ma rine forces in the East Indies, where he greatly distinguished himself by the capture of Severndroog castle on the coast of Malabar, April 2, 1755He died in 1783. This singular tower has three floors, and the entrance is decorated with trophies taken from the enemy. Shooter's Hill is so called, either because here thieves from the adjoining woods have shot at travellers, and plundered them, or because the archers frequented this spot to exercise themselves in their favourite diversion. It is indeed a fact that King Henry the VIII, and his queen Catharine came hither from Greenwich on May Day, and were received by 200 archers clad in green, one of them personating Robin Hood as their captain, and all of them shewing his Majesty feats of extraordinary activity.

We now descend on the other side of the hill, and soon pass by the little town of Erith, where the East India ships unburden themselves of part of their cargo, that they may proceed up to London with the greater safety. Pushing on through Crayford, we quickly reach the town of Dartford, situated on a river whence it derives its name, and remarkable for the transparency of its waters. Lo! the still Darent in whose waters clear Ten thousand fishes play and deck his pleasant stream. SPENCER.

Dartford has nothing very remarkable to recommend it to the notice of the traveller; it has a

market for corn and other articles, and the church

possesses some degree of antiquity. Upon the river are no less than five mills, one for sawing, the other for grinding corn, one for making paper, and another for mauufacturing gun-powder. A paper-mill standing not far from the town southwards, is supposed to have been the first of the kind in the kingdom. It was erected by John Spilman, a person of German extraction in the reign of Queen Elisabeth, who granted him a licence for the sole gathering of all rags, &c. during ten years, necessary for the making of writingpaper. That this however was the first mill of the kind in England has been questioned, since it is said that paper used in a book printed so far back as the year 1494, was made by John Tate, jun. of Hertford. Be this as it may, the commodity is of unquestionable utility. It is one of the grand means by which the blessings of knowledge are diffused among mankind. In one of the cemetries belonging to the town, is the following expressive epitaph on a child of three years old:

When the Archangel's trumpets blow,
And souls to bodies join;

What crowds will wish their stay below,
Had been as short as mine!

How fine a contrast do these lines form to the rubbish by which places of interment are generally disgraced. In Dorking Church Yard, I with my own eyes saw this inscription on the head stone of a child

Grieve not for me

My dear Dad-dec,

But think how I am blest!

Surely such wretched doggrel ought to be excluded from the solemn abodes of the dead. Nothing

should be admitted which might prove in the least degree unfavourable to seriousness and piety.

Seven miles further brings us to Gravesend; and on the way thither no place deserves particular mention, except Swanscombe, where William 'the Conqueror met the Men of Kent covered with boughs, and appearing to him like a moving wood! Alarmed at the sight, he granted them the privileges which they demanded," amongst which was that of the Gavelkind, by which the landed property of the father is divided equally amongst all the sons of the family. The story about the Conqueror and the Kentish Men has indeed been thought by some to be fabulous; but the law just mentioned is a delightful reality.

Gravesend is the first port on the river Thames, and twenty-two miles distant from London. Here' all outward bound ships are obliged to cast anchor, nor are suffered to proceed farther till properly examined. Hence a fine row of shipping is often seen riding before the town, and produces on the eye of the stranger a very pleasing impression. The parishes of Gravesend and Milton are incorporated and governed by a mayor, twelve jurats, and twenty-four common council men. The town is small but neat, the streets being both paved and lighted. Mr. Pocock a respectables bookseller in the place has published its history, well worth attention. Opposite to Gravesend on the Essex side, stands Tilbury Fort, where Queen Elizabeth met her forces, and harangued them, when the Spanish Armada in the year 158S, threatened a most formidable invasion. It is kept in tolerable repair, and commands the entrance of the river. I faw the centinel pacing slowly on the platform; but the lateness of the evening prevented my crossing thither. The subterraneous tunnel under the bed

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of the Thames, by which the shores of Kent and Essex will be connected, is still in contemplation, but very slowly advances. Some individuals indeed question its practicability. Not long ago I was amused by a representation of this tunnel at the exhibition in Somerfet-House. It appeared in its finished state; lamps were seen burning on each side, and the Mail passing through with its usual rapidity!!

About half way between Gravesend and Rochester we meet with Gadshill, where tradition says Henry Prince of Wales, son of king Henry IV, and his dissolute associates robbed the Sandwich carriers, and the auditors who were carrying money to his father's exchequer. Few of Shakespeare's plays are more read and admired than the first part of Henry the IV; and the Tourist must feel pleasure in the recollection, that here the dialogue took place between the Prince and Falstaff, which powerfully excites our risibility. Imagination with her magic wand consecrates such spots of earth, and we approach them with a more than ordinary degree of emotion. A public house in this neighbourhood has a sign with Falstaff on the one side and Henry on the other; this is a memorial of the fact already noticed.

Before we enter Rochester, we pass through Stroud a place of antiquity; and then over the bridge which crosses the Medway, a river which takes its rise at Crowhurst in Surry. After its meanderings by Tunbridge, Maidstone, Rochester, and other places, it empties itself into the vast and boundless

ocean!

The city of ROCHESTER is known in the earlier records of our history, and many are the stories told of it, which cannot be here detailed. Its castle and cathedral, both very antique in their ap

pearance, are the chief objects of curiosity, The castle, in the time of the Romans, Saxons, Danes, and Normans, underwent several revolutions. The cathedral also has suffered many changes, and abounds with monuments of high respectability. The bridge here flung over the Medway, may be. pronounced both large and handsome-being 560 feet in length, with eleven arches, of which the greatest is forty feet in width! It has been recently improved, and does credit to the venerable city of Rochester. The inconvenience arising from passing rivers, must have been very great in the early stages of society. Bridges, therefore, are structures of inconceivable utility. In Ireland, it is said, a custom prevailed, that persons in passing an ancient bridge pulled off their hats, and prayed for the builder's soul! This, indeed, savours of superstition. But it is proper that the authors of all public works should be held in grateful remembrance by posterity! The town-hall is a handsome brick structure, built in 1687-here are many good, portraits by Sir Godfrey Kneller-and within the. walls, not only do the mayor, recorder, and aldermen transact their public business, but the judges have formerly held the assizes for the county. Farther on, in the same street, we meet with the clock-house, built in 1686, by the great Sir Cloudesly Shovel-his arms, over the dial, form a pleasing decoration. I never contemplate the name of this famous admiral without emotions of sorrow. He had risen, by his merit, from a mean situation to a distinguished degree of favour, both with his king and with his country. His heroic acts, during the reigns of William and Anne, resounded through the British dominions. But, alas! returne ing home with his fleet in the year 1705, they struck on the Scilly Isles, when be, and multitudes

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