From Kew Bridge the river flows proudly on in sweeping curves between two populous shores, skirted with villages and fine seats. Mortlake, Barnes, Chiswick, and Hammersmith, with their elegant villas and pleasure grounds, successively meet the eye; whilst the stream itself, which has now for several miles admitted the tide, is enlivened by the busy assemblage of boats and barges which are continually moving along its current: still however the idea of peaceful retirement is occasionally renewed by intervening groves of lofty trees, which break the general flatness of the shores. At Chiswick, is the pleasant seat of the Duke of Devonshire, the grounds of which were first laid out in the Italian style, and the villa built after a design of Palladio, by the late Earl of Burlington. The villages of Putney and Fulham, which are connected with each other by a long old wooden bridge, next arrest the attention; and here begins that bustle of population and frequency of building, which for many miles from this point, accompany the windings of the stream. Putney, on the Surrey shore, is associated with our historical remembrances, from being the native place of the eloquent Gibbon; and of Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, and Vicar-General, the once highly cherished favourite of Henry the Eighth, but afterwards the victim of that sanguinary and tyrannical King. At Fulham, on the Middlesex side, is the venerable palace of the bishops of London; a brick edifice, surrounded by a moat. Opposite to Wandsworth, the little river Wandle falls into the Thames: this stream is formed by two small rivulets, that rise in the neighbourhoods of Banstead Downs and the town of Croydon, and is famous for its bleaching mills and printing grounds. As the river proceeds, it swells into an extensive reach above Battersea Bridge, a substantial wooden fabric, that connects Battersea with the populous village of Chelsea; where among various other objects of interest, is the College or Hospital for disabled and superannuated Soldiers, and the Botanical Garden belonging to the company of Apothecaries of London. The The reach between Chelsea and Lambeth, presents fewer subjects for remark than its direct vicinity to the Metropolis would lead one to expect; and the bordering scenery has mostly a rural character and appropriation. Yet this lasts not long; the archiepiscopal palace of Canterbury, on the Surrey side, and the lofty piles of Westminster Hall and Abbey, on the Middlesex shore, with the intervening Bridge, and the numerous edifices that rise in proud succession beyond, soon break the sameness of the views, and assert the contiguity of an extensive city. "The well-known residence of the archbishop of Canterbury," says Mr. Noble," is far from being distinguished by architectural magnificence, yet the venerable air of antiquity presented by its towers, and the avenues of trees bordering the river beyond it, afford no unpleasing approach to the splendid scenes that succeed: the meanness of the irregular line of houses between the palace and bridge, cannot, however, but offend every lover of congruity. The commencement of the city of Westminster on the other bank, is more ornamental, though not adequate to the situation. The abbey, indeed, detains the eye by a solemn grandeur, not unworthy of the sentiments which its name and destination inspire; and the majesty of the Bridge which bestrides and seems to exercise dominion over the broad stream that flows beneath, renders it a suitable entrance to the splendour of the commercial Metropolis of Europe. Between the Bridges of Westminster and Blackfriars, the Thames moves majestically along in a bold sweep: its banks on the Middlesex side are crowded with buildings, some of them of considerable interest; and on the Surrey shore, with a numerous bnt very irregular assemblage of private wharfs, timber-yards, and other repositories, devoted to the purposes of trade and manufactures, among which is a lofty brick tower, built for the purpose of casting lead small-shot on the improved mode. The effect of the whole scene is highly increased by the vast Cathedral of St. Paul. which rises with impressive grandeur and in all the pride of Grecian architecture, from the most elevated part of the City of of London. The most remarkable of the intermediate objects are the lofty terrace of the Adelphi, the dilapidated palace of the Savoy; and the immense buildings of Somerset Place, where the greater part of the public offices are now concentrated, as well as the principal national institutions for the promotion of science and art. Beyond these are the Temple Gardens, which Shakespeare has immortalized by his scene, where the white and red roses are first gathered, as badges of the partizans of the rival Houses of York and Lancaster. At Blackfriars, the width of the river is about 230 feet less than at Westminster. The view from the river, at a little distance above Blackfriars Bridge, is extremely grand; the lofty spire of St. Bride on the left, the Bridge itself in front, with the towering fabric of St. Paul rising above it, and the glimpse caught through the arches of London Bridge, the aspiring shaft of the Monument, and the numerous steeples of the city Churches, with the various craft moving in quick succession along the stream, altogether combine to form a very imposing and animated scene. The London shore, between the two last bridges, is occupied by a continued range of wharfs, yards, warehouses, &c. " for the accommodation af that immense trade which supplies the Metropolis with the necessaries and luxuries of life, and the materials of commerce; one edifice only for shew and pleasure, Fishmonger'sHall, contiguous to London Bridge, relieves the eye and imagination." The Surrey side is partly covered with wharfs, glass-houses, warehouses, dye-houses, and iron founderies, and partly forms an open street, called Bank-side, which is the only uninterrupted walk of any length on the immediate bank of the Thames, during its whole course through the Cities of London and Westminster. "London Bridge forms the partition between the river navigation, and the sea navigation, of the Thames; immediately below it commences the Port of London, and the forest of masts that rises in direct view, and stretches beyond the reach of sight, announces the prodigious magnitude of that commerce which supplies the wants of an immense Metropolis, and extends its arms to the |