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<h2>Letter 9.</h2> Bristol. Dear Charley:— Clifton and the Hot Wells are the suburbs of this city, extending along for a mile or two on the banks of the Avon. One mile below the city the Avon passes between the rocks which are known as St. Vincent's on the one side, and Leigh Woods upon the opposite one. These rocks are amongst the sublimities of nature, and the Avon for about three miles presents the wildest and sweetest bit of scenery imaginable. These cliffs have been for ages the admiration of all beholders, and though thousands of tons are taken from the quarries every year, yet the inhabitants say that no great change takes place in their appearance. The Avon has a prodigious rise of tide at Bristol, and at low water the bed of the river is a mere brook, with immense banks of mud. The country all around is exquisitely attractive, and affords us an idea of cultivation and adornment beyond what we are accustomed to at home. In these rocks are found fine crystals, which are known every where as Bristol diamonds. We obtained some specimens, which reminded us of the crystals so frequently seen at Little Falls, on the Mohawk. The great celebrity of the Hot Wells is chiefly owing to a hot spring, which issues from the rock, and possesses valuable medical qualities. This spring had a reputation as early as 1480. It discharges about forty gallons per minute, and was first brought into notice by sailors, who found it useful for scorbutic disorders. In 1680 it became famous, and a wealthy merchant rendered it so by a dream. He was afflicted with diabetes, and dreamed that he was cured by drinking the water of this spring. He resorted to the imagined remedy, and soon recovered. Its fame now spread, and, in 1690, the corporation of Bristol took charge of the spring. We found the water, fresh from the spring, at the temperature of Fahrenheit 76°. It contains free carbonic acid gas. Its use is seen chiefly in cases of pulmonary consumption. I suppose it has wrought wonders in threatening cases. It is the place for an invalid who begins to fear, but it is not possible to "create a soul under the ribs of death." Unhappily, people in sickness too seldom repair to such aid as may here be found till the last chances of recovery are exhausted. I have never seen a spot where I thought the fragile and delicate in constitution might pass a winter, sheltered from every storm, more securely than in this place. Tie houses for accommodation are without end, both at the Hot Wells and at Clifton. This last place is on the high ground, ascending up to the summit of the rocks, where you enter on a noble campus known as Durdham Down. This extends for some three or four miles, and is skirted by charming villages, which render the environs of Bristol so far-famed for beauty. I never wished to have your company more than when we all ascended the height of St. Vincent's Rocks. The elevation at which we stood was about three hundred and fifty feet above the winding river which, it is thought, by some sudden convulsion of nature, turned from the moors of Somersetshire, its old passage to the sea, and forced an abrupt one between the rocks and the woods; and the corresponding dip of the strata, the cavities on one side, and projections on the other, make the supposition very plausible. A suspension bridge over this awful chasm is in progress. The celebrated pulpit orator, Robert Hall, always spoke of the scenery of this region as having done very much in his early days to form his notions of the beautiful. In one of his most admirable sermons, preached at Bristol, when discoursing upon "the new heavens and the new earth," he indulged in an astonishing outbreak of eloquence, while he conducted his audience to the surpassing beauties of their own vicinage, sin-ruined as it was, and then supposed that this earth might become the dwelling-place of the redeemed, when, having been purified from all evil, it should again become "very good." Here, on these scenes of unrivalled beauty, Southey, and Lovell, and Coleridge, and Cottle have loved to meditate; and the wondrous boy Chatterton fed his muse amid these rare exhibitions of the power and wisdom of the Godhead. A Roman encampment is still visible on the summit of the rocks. We were all sorry, to see such havoc going on among the quarries, where, to use Southey's language on this subject, they are "selling off the sublime and beautiful by the boat load." <div class="figcenter"> <ANTIMG src="images/pg071_th.png" width-obs="325" height-obs="400" alt="Samuel Taylor Coleridge." title="Samuel Taylor Coleridge." />Samuel Taylor Coleridge.</div> Our favorite walk is on the downs. George seems really penetrated with the uncommon beauty of the region, and wants to stop as long as possible, and does not believe any thing can be more beautiful. We look over the awful cliffs—gaze on the thread of water winding its devious course at an immense distance below—watch the steamers from Wales and Ireland shoot up to the city, and the noble West Indiamen, as they are towed along. The woods opposite are charming, and contain nearly every forest-tree belonging to the country. Dr. Holland, in his travels through Greece, refers to this very spot in the following language: "The features of nature are often best described by comparison; and to those who have visited Vincent's Rocks, below Bristol, I cannot convey a more sufficient idea of the far-famed Vale of Tempe than by saying that its scenery resembles, though on a much larger scale, that of the former place. The Peneus, indeed, as it flows through the valley, is not greatly wider than the Avon, and the channel between the cliffs irregularly contracted in its dimensions; but these cliffs themselves are much loftier and more precipitous, and project their vast masses of rock with still more extraordinary abruptness over the hollow beneath." We devoted a morning to visit Leigh Court, the residence of Mr. Miles, a wealthy merchant and member in Parliament for Bristol. This is regarded as one of the finest residences in the west of England. The mansion has an Ionic portico, supported by massive columns. The great hall is very extensive. A double flight of steps leads you to a peristyle of the Ionic order, around which are twenty marble columns, supporting a lofty dome, lighted by painted glass. The floor is of colored marble. This residence has been enriched with the choicest treasures from Wanstead House, and Fonthill Abbey. To us the grand attraction was the Picture Gallery, which has few superiors in the kingdom. A catalogue, with etchings, was published a few years ago. You may judge of the merits of the collection, and the nature of our gratification, when I tell you that here are the Conversion of Paul, by Rubens; the Graces, by Titian; William Tell, by Holbein; Pope Julius II., by Raphael; Ecce Homo, by Carl Dolci; Head of the Virgin, by Correggio; St. Peter, by Guido; St. John, by Domenichino; Creator Mundi, by Leonardo da Vinci; Crucifixion, by Michael Angelo; Plague of Athens, by N. Poussin; three Seaports, by Claude; and a large number by Rembrandt, Salvator Rosa, Paul Potter, Parmegiano, Velasques, Gerard Dow, &c. This has been a most gratifying excursion, and our visit here will be a matter of pleasant recollection. I forgot to say that at Clifton, and at various places near the rocks, we were beset by men, women, and children, having very beautiful polished specimens of the various stones found in the quarries, together with minerals and petrifactions. Of these we all obtained an assortment. Yours affectionately, j.o.c. <hr style="width: 65%;" /> <div style="break-after:column;"></div>

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