MR. DOWNING'S LETTERS FROM ENGLAND. 



the carriages roll by, and you are less astonished at the numberless superb equipages or the 

 beauty of the horses, than at the old-world air of the footmen in gold and silver lace, 

 gaudy liveries, spotless linen and snowy silk stockings. Some of the grand old coachmen 

 in full powdered wigs, decked in all the glory of laced coats and silken calves, held the 

 ribbons with such a conscious air of imposing grandeur that I willingly accepted them as 

 the tree-pcenoias, the most blooming blossoms of this parterre of equipage. It seemed 

 to me that there may be something comfortable in thus hanging all the trappings of station on 

 the backs of coachman and footman, if one must be bothered with such things — so that one 

 may lean back quietly in plain clothes in the well-stuffed seat of his private carriage. 



But do not let us loiter away all our time in a single scene in Hyde Park. A few steps 

 farther on is Rotten Row, (rather an odd name for an elegant place,) the chosen arena of 

 fashionable equestrians. The English know too well the pleasures of riding, to gallop on 

 horse-back over hard pavements, and Rotten Row is a soft circle of a couple of miles, in 

 the park, railed off for this purpose, where your horse's feet have an elastic surface to travel 

 over. Hundreds of fair equestrians, with fathers, brothers, or friends, for companions, are 

 here enjoying a more lively and spirited exercise, than the languid inmates of the car- 

 riages we have just left behind us. The English women rise in the saddle, like male riders, 

 and at first sight they look awkwardly and less gracefully to our eyes — but you soon see 

 that they also sit more firmly and ride more boldly, than ladies on our side of the water. 



To stand by and see others ride, seems to me always too tantalizing to be long endured 

 as a pastime — even where the scene is as full of novelty and variety as this. Let us go 

 on, therefore. This beautiful stream of water, which would be called a pretty " creek" 

 at home, is the Serpentine river, which has been made to meander gracefully through 

 Hyde Park, and wonderfully does its bright water enhance the beauty of the verdure and 

 the charm of the whole landscape. As we stand on the bridge, and look up and down the 

 river, amid the rich groves and across the green lawns, the city wholly shut out by groves 

 and plantations, how finely one feels the contrast of art and nature to be realised here. 



That delicious band of music which you hear now, is in Kensington gardens, and only 

 a belt of trees and yonder iron gate, separate the latter from Hyde Park. Let us join the 

 crowd of persons of all ages, collected in the great walk, under the shade of gigantic 

 elm trees, to hear the music. It is a well known air of Donizetti's, and as your 

 eye glances over the companj'-, perhaps some five or six thousand persons, who form the 

 charmingly grouped, out-of-door audience, (for the afternoon is a bright one,) and as j'ou see 

 the radiant pleasure-sparkle in a thousand happy fiices, young and old, who are here en- 

 joying a little pleasant mingling of heaven and earth, in an innocent manner, you cannot 

 but be struck with the fact, that if there is a duty belonging to good governments, next to 

 protecting the lives and property of the people, it is that of providing public parks for the 

 pent up inhabitants of cities. 



" Imperial Kensington" is not onl}' more spacious and grand than Hyde Park, but it 

 has a certain antique stateliness, which touches my fancy and pleases me more. The 

 trees are larger and more grove-like, and the broad glades of soft green turf are of a 

 darker and richer green, and invite you to a more private and intimate confidence than any 

 portions of Hyde Park. The grand avenue of Elms at the farther part of Kensington Gar- 

 dens, coming suddenly into it from the farther Bayswater gate, is one of the noblest ge- 

 ometric groves in any city, and was laid out and planted, I believe, in King William's 

 An avenue some hundreds of years old, is always majestic and venerable, and 



adds great extent and fine keeping, like this, is really a grand thing. And yet, per 



