158 
FOREST AND STREAM 
April, 1921 
DR. HENSHALL AT WALTON S SHRINE 
HE ENJOYS SOME TROUT FISHING ON ENGLISH STREAMS AND VISITS THE 
BIRTHPLACE OF THE FAMOUS OLD PISCATOR AND FATHER OF ANGLING 
TWENTY-FOURTH PAPER 
A FTER visiting Versailles and Fon- 
tainebleau and making short 
trips to the charming suburbs of 
St. Cloud, St. Denis, St. Germain, St. 
Owen and Neuilly, Judge Longworth 
and I concluded to leave France for 
England, as neither of us cared to visit 
Germany. Accordingly we crossed the 
narrow strait, about twenty-five miles 
wide, from Calais to Dover, and much 
to our relief and that of our fellow 
voyagers it was as smooth as the pro- 
verbial mill pond. As the tides of the 
North Sea and the English Channel 
meet at the Strait of Dover, it is usually 
quite rough and very choppy, and is 
much dreaded by travelers. After an 
hour’s sail the chalk cliffs of England 
loomed up, and before the lapse of an- 
other hour we arrived at Dover. 
A few years before our crossing Cap- 
tain Matthew Webb, an Englishman, 
was successful in swimming from 
Calais to Dover, but, unfortunately, 
lost his life a few years later when at- 
tempting to swim across the Rapids 
and Whirlpool at Niagara Falls. 
From Dover we proceeded direct to 
London. The journey through the 
lovely county of Kent, with the hop 
fields and vegetable gardens in the 
height of their profusion, was most 
charming. Owing to the intense and 
high state of cultivation and its landed 
estates, fine roads and hedges, stone 
walls and stone cottages, England is the 
most beautiful country in the world. 
We obtained comfortable quarters in 
Albion Street, near Hyde Park. We 
viewed the principal sights of London, 
including Westminster Abbey, St. Pauls 
and the Houses of Parliament, all of 
which we found highly interesting, but 
we took more pleasure in wandering 
through the streets, courts and purlieus 
of London that were once frequented by 
our old friends Dick Swiveller, Sam 
Weller, Captain Cuttle, Gabriel Varden 
and Wilkins Micawber, who once lived, 
moved and had their being in those 
precincts, and are now immortalized by 
the genius of Charles Dickens. 
W E spent much time, with pleasure 
and profit, in the British Mu- 
seum, which contains one of the 
largest collections of ancient and re- 
cent specimens of art, science and natu- 
ral history in the world. But while 
we admired the famous collection of 
Grecian sculptures known as the Elgin 
Marbles, we could not refrain from 
sharing with Lord Byron the view that 
it was questionable wisdom, at best, to 
take advantage of a weak and impover- 
ished nation by depriving it of its most 
valuable heirlooms. True, Lord Elgin 
purchased the sculptures for what was 
considered a good price in his day. but 
which at the present time would be a 
mere bagatelle in comparison with their 
present worth. It would be a magnani- 
mous act, worthy of a great nation, to 
restore the priceless collection to Greece, 
where each piece could be seen in situ 
by the appreciative traveler. Plaster 
casts of the originals would answer just 
as well for museum purposes, which is 
exemplified in a number of national 
museums where similar casts are ex- 
hibited. 
While Greece and Italy have been de- 
spoiled and robbed of their ancient 
Cleopatra’s Needle and Waterloo 
Bridge 
heirlooms and archaeological treasures 
to enrich private and public museums 
of so-called civilized nations, Egypt has 
suffered most. One of the ancient obe- 
lisks of Heliopolis, known as Cleopa- 
tra’s Needles, stands in Central Park, 
in New York City, and one on the 
Thames Embankment, in London. To 
the average intellect these priceless 
relics of antiquity are nothing but tall 
red granite columns of no particular 
significance. How much better the in- 
telligent traveler would enjoy seeing 
them in Alexandria, from whence they 
were taken, and where thpy would be 
more profoundly impressive in t^e local 
atmosphere of E<?vot, and under the 
mystic glamor of Isis and Osiris. 
But while these questionable acts of 
acquisition may be looked upon as re- 
fined vandalism, the inhuman and 
ghoulish practice of robbing the tombs 
of the Pharaohs and other ancient dy- 
nasties of Egypt of their cherished dead 
to enrich the museums of the civilized 
world, deserves a harsher term. Those 
poor bodies that were religiously swathed 
and embalmed by loving hands, and had 
rested peacefully for, perhaps, ten thou- 
sand years, were ruthlessly torn from 
their sepulchers so that every ambitious 
museum could have its mummy! It is 
not so long since thousands of mummies 
were exhumed, despoiled and denuded 
of their sacred wrappings and cere- 
ments, to be shipped to our own and 
other countries for paper rags ! 
O UR visit to London happened, for- 
tunately, during the Jubilee of 
Queen Victoria, to celebrate her 
peaceful and successful reign of fifty 
years. A few days after our arrival 
the Queen was to visit London for the 
first time in ten years, to dedicate the 
People’s Palace, in the east end of the 
city. On the auspicious day she was 
to pass along Edgeware Road, Oxford 
and Regent streets to Piccadilly, thence 
along the Strand to the place of the 
ceremony. Elevated seats had been 
erected in front of the stores along the 
route, which commanded a good price 
from the onlookers. 
We went to Edgeware Road, which 
was but a couple of blocks from our 
domicile, and stood with the crowd on 
the curb. On each side of the street, 
about twenty-five feet apart, stood 
soldiers with presented arms, along the 
entire route. First came the Horse 
Guards, a squadron of England’s finest 
and the pride of London, on a canter, 
followed by the royal coach containing 
the good Queen and one of her daugh- 
ters. As she passed us rapidly we un- 
covered and saluted, but so far as we 
could see we were the only ones who did 
so. There was no enthusiasm evinced 
by the conservative crowd. An Ameri- 
can assemblage would have “gone wild” 
and tossed up their hats, and the cor- 
tege would have been preceded by a 
brass band! 
The next day Longworth and I went 
into a haberdashery on Regent street 
to make a purchase. I said to the girl 
clerk in well simulated London accents 
which I sometimes assumed to worry 
my companion: “I say, did you see our 
Queen, yesterday?” “Oh, yes,” she re- 
plied in a nochalant and bored manner. 
Then I tried again: “We’re jolly well 
fond of our Queen, d’ye know!” 
“Well,” she rejoined, “ what ’ave you 
to do with it: you’re Americans.” 
Then the Judge had his laugh at my 
expense, for I was compelled to pur- 
chase a necktie to appease the girl. 
During our stay there occurred the 
Derby Race, London’s greatest event. 
We bought seats on a tally-ho coach for 
five nounds each, including a champagne 
