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<h2>Letter 8.</h2> Bristol. Dear Charley:— You have so often expressed a desire to see the fine cathedral churches and abbeys of the old world, that I shall not apologize for giving you an account of them; and as they are more in my way, I shall take them into my hands, and let the lads write you about other things. The next visit we took, after I wrote you last, was to the cathedral. This is of great antiquity. In 1148, a monastery was dedicated to St. Augustine. This good man sent one Jordan as a missionary in 603, and here he labored faithfully and died. It seems, I think, well sustained that the venerable Austin himself preached here, and that his celebrated conference with the British clergy took place on College Green; and it is thought that the cathedral was built on its site to commemorate the event. The vicinity of the church is pleasing. The Fitzhardings, the founders of the Berkeley family, began the foundation of the abbey in 1140, and it was endowed and dedicated in 1148. The tomb of Sir Robert, the founder, lies at the east of the door, and is enclosed with rails. Some of the buildings connected with the church are of great antiquity, and are probably quite as old as the body of the cathedral. A gateway leading to the cloisters and chapter-house is plainly Saxon, and is regarded as the finest Saxon archway in England. The western part of the cathedral was demolished by Henry VIII. The eastern part, which remains, has a fine Gothic choir. This was created a bishop's see by Henry VIII. It is interesting to think that Secker, Butler, and Newton have all been bishops of this diocese, and Warburton, who wrote the Divine Legation of Moses, was once Dean of Bristol. The immortal Butler, who wrote the Analogy of Natural and Revealed Religion, lies buried here, and his tombstone is on the south aisle, at the entrance of the choir. A splendid monument has been erected to his memory, with the following inscription from the pen of Robert Southey, himself a Bristolian:— Sacred to the Memory of JOSEPH BUTLER, D.C.L., twelve years Bishop of this Diocese, afterwards of Durham, whose mortal remains are here deposited. Others had established the historical and prophetical grounds of the Christian Religion, and that true testimony of Truth which is found in its perfect adaptation to the heart of man. It was reserved for him to develop its analogy to the constitution and course of Nature; and laying his strong foundations in the depth of that great argument, there to construct another and irrefragable proof; thus rendering Philosophy subservient to Faith, and finding in outward and visible things the type and evidence of those within the veil. Born, A.D. 1693. Died, 1752. We noticed a very fine monument by Bacon to the memory of Mrs. Draper, said to have been the Eliza of Sterne. We hastened to find the world-renowned tomb of Mrs. Mason, and to read the lines on marble of that inimitable epitaph, which has acquired a wider circulation than any other in the world. The lines were written by her husband, the Rev. William Mason. <div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> "Take, holy earth, all that my soul holds dear; Take that best gift which Heaven so lately gave. To Bristol's fount I bore with trembling care Her faded form; she bowed to taste the wave, And died. Does youth, does beauty read the line? Does sympathetic fear their breasts alarm? Speak, dead Maria; breathe a strain divine; E'en from the grave thou shalt have power to charm. Bid them be chaste, be innocent, like thee; Bid them in duty's sphere as meekly move; And if so fair, from vanity as free, As firm in friendship, and as fond in love,— Tell them, though 'tis an awful thing to die, (Twas e'en to thee,) yet, the dread path once trod, Heaven lifts its everlasting portals high, And bids the pure in heart behold their God." </div> </div> In the cloisters we saw the tomb of Bird the artist, a royal academician, and a native of Bristol. We were much interested with a noble bust of Robert Southey, the poet, which has just been erected in the north aisle. It stands on an octangular pedestal of gray marble, with Gothic panels. The bust is of the most exquisitely beautiful marble. The inscription is in German text. <h3>Robert Southey,</h3> <h4>Born in Bristol,</h4> <h3>October 4, 1774;</h3> <h4>Died at Reswick,</h4> <h3>March 21, 1843.</h3> <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/pg064_th.png" width-obs="288" height-obs="400" alt="Robert Southey" title="Robert Southey" />Robert Southey</div> The cloisters contain some fine old rooms, which recall the days of the Tudors. Here we saw the apartments formerly occupied by the learned and accomplished Dr. Hodges, now organist of Trinity Church, New York. This gentleman is a native of Bristol, and is held, we find, in respectful and affectionate remembrance by the best people of this city. Opposite to the cathedral, and on the other side of the college green, is the Mayor's Chapel, where his honor attends divine service. In Catholic days, this was the Church and Hospital of the Virgin Mary. This edifice was built by one Maurice de Gaunt in the thirteenth century. Under the tower at the east front is a small door, by which you enter the church, and on the north another, by which you enter a small room, formerly a confessional, with two arches in the walls for the priest and the penitent. In this room are eight niches, in which images once stood. The roof is vaulted with freestone, in the centre of which are two curious shields and many coats of arms. In 1830, this chapel was restored and beautified. A fine painted window was added, and the altar screen restored to its former beauty, at the expense of the corporation. The front of the organ gallery is very rich in Gothic moulding, tracery, crockets, &c. It is flanked at the angles with octagonal turrets, of singular beauty, embattled, and surmounted with canopies, crockets, &c. The spandrils, quatrefoils, buttresses, sculptures, and cornices are exceedingly admired. The pulpit is of stone, and the mayor's throne, of carved oak, is of elaborate finish. Here are two knights in armor, with their right hands on their sword hilts, on the left their shields, with their legs crossed, which indicates that they were crusaders. In every excursion around Bristol, the boys were struck with the fact that an old tower was visible on a high hill. The hill is called Dundry, and it is said that it can be seen every where for a circle of five miles round the city. Dundry is five miles from Bristol, and fourteen from Bath, and it commands the most beautiful and extensive prospect in the west of England. We rode out to it with an early friend of mine, who is now the leading medical man of Bristol; and when I tell you that we went in an Irish jaunting car, you may guess that we were amused. The seats are at the sides, and George was in ecstasies at the novelty of the vehicle. When oh the summit, we saw at the north and east the cities of Bath and Bristol, and our view included the hills of Wiltshire, and the Malvern Hills of Worcestershire. The Severn, from north to west, is seen, embracing the Welsh coast, and beyond are the far-famed mountains of Wales. The church has a fine tower, with turreted pinnacles fifteen feet above the battlements. We rode over to Chew Magna, a village two miles beyond Dundry. Here I went to a boarding school thirty-eight years ago, and I returned to the village for the first time. It had altered but little. The streets seemed narrower; but there was the old tower where I had played fives, and there was the cottage where I bought fruit; and when I entered it, Charley, I found "young Mr. Batt"-a man of eighty-six. His father used to be "old Mr. Batt," and he always called his son his "boy," and we boys termed him "young Mr. Batt." I came back and found him eighty-six. So do years fly away. I called on one old school-fellow, some years my junior. He did not recognize me, but I at once remembered him. We partook of a lunch at his house. I was sadly disappointed to find the old boarding school gone, but was not a little relieved when I heard that it had given place to a Baptist church. I confess I should have liked to occupy its pulpit for one Sabbath day. To-morrow we are to spend at Clifton, the beautiful environ of Bristol, and shall most likely write you again. Yours affectionately, j.o.c. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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