ANNOUNCEMENTS.

ESTABLISHED 1850.

Inman Line.

UNITED STATES AND ROYAL MAIL STEAMERS

New York, Queenstown AND Liverpool.

FIRST CABIN PASSAGE from $60 to $650,

According to Steamer and Location of Accommodations.

Note.—Round Trip Tickets issued at reduced rates, and the return portion can, if desired, be used by RED STAR LINE from Antwerp to New York or Philadelphia.

International Navigation Co.,

General Agents,

6 BOWLING GREEN, NEW YORK.

ANNOUNCEMENTS.

SIMPSON’S

(LIMITED)

Divan Tavern,

103 STRAND,

Opposite Exeter Hall,—LONDON.

The premier Restaurant in the Strand, established upwards of fifty years, which still retains its supremacy for being the house to get the best English Dinner in London at a moderate price. There is also a magnificent Ladies’ Dining Room where ladies can dine in the same style and cost as gentlemen do in the room down stairs. Private rooms for large or small parties.

Noted for Soups, Fish, Entrees and Joints. Saddles of Mutton specially cooked to perfection from 12.30 to 8.30 p.m. Originator of professed Carvers to attend on each customer at separate tables. Matured wines and spirits. The largest stock of any tavern in the kingdom.

E. W. CATHIE, Managing Director.

ANNOUNCEMENTS.

LONDON & NORTH WESTERN RAILWAY

THE OLD ROUTE IN THE OLD COUNTRY. THE TOURISTS’ FAVORITE.

IRISH AND SCOTCH ROYAL MAIL ROUTE.

SHORTEST AND QUICKEST FROM

LIVERPOOL (Lime Street Station) to LONDON (Euston Station). under FOUR AND A-HALF HOURS to GLASGOW (Central Station), in FIVE AND THREE-QUARTER HOURS.

QUEENSTOWN to LONDON via Dublin and Holyhead, in SIXTEEN HOURS AND TEN MINUTES.

Baggage Checked Through from New York to London.

At LIVERPOOL, Family Omnibuses from Landing Stage, and Special Trains from Alexandra Dock to Lime Street Station and Hotel.

NORTH WESTERN HOTEL, Lime Street Station, Liverpool, the best and largest—the hotel for Americans.

SPECIAL TRAINS from Liverpool to London when requisite to make close connection with steamers arriving from America.

Elegant Vestibule Drawing-Room Cars without extra charge. Compartments with lavatories, and private saloon and family carriages for parties without extra charge.

Sleeping Cars with Compartments and brass Beds, 5s. per berth in addition to first-class fares.

DINING CARS on principal trains and “American Specials.”

Luncheon Baskets at the principal Stations.

In LONDON, Family Omnibuses can be obtained, at the Euston Hotel (at the Station), noted for its Cellar and its French Cuisine, will be found most comfortable.

THE LONDON AND NORTH WESTERN RAILWAY has NOT abolished Second Class Carriages; passengers to whom economy is an object, but who do not wish to travel Third Class, can combine comfort with economy by traveling Second Class by this line. First and Second Class on all trains. Third Class Carriages on all trains except the Irish Mails to and from Dublin.

The Company’s Agents, Mr. W. STIRLING, at Queenstown, and Mr. FRED. W. THOMPSON, at Liverpool, meet the American Steamers on arrival, and secure omnibuses, seats, saloon carriages, rooms at hotel, and give general information.

THROUGH TICKETS to London, Glasgow, Paris, and principal stations in England, Scotland, Ireland, Wales, and Continent of Europe.

TICKETS, Time Tables and information as to travel and hotels can be obtained from the Company’s Agent, Mr. D. BATTERSBY, 184 St. James St., Montreal, and

Mr. C. A. BARATTONI, Gen’l Agent for the U. S. and Canada, 852 Broadway, near Union Square, New York.

ANNOUNCEMENTS.

HOTEL WINDSOR,

VICTORIA STREET,

Westminster, LONDON, S.W.

Convenient and central location; European or American system; the only hotel in London with Turkish and other baths; elevators; electrically lighted throughout, day and night.

J. R. CLEAVE & CO., Proprietors.

ABROAD AND AT HOME
PRACTICAL HINTS FOR TOURISTS

BY
MORRIS PHILLIPS
EDITOR OF
THE HOME JOURNAL
NEW YORK

NEW YORK
BRENTANO’S
Paris Washington Chicago London
Copyright 1891,
BY
MORRIS PHILLIPS
THE ART PRESS,
DEMPSEY & CARROLL,
36 EAST 14TH STREET,
NEW YORK.

TO THE MEMORY OF
GEORGE W. HOWS,
MY FAITHFUL FELLOW-WORKER AND DEAR FRIEND OF
MANY YEARS, THIS VOLUME OF SKETCHES IS
AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED.

“Travel is the great
source of true wisdom.”
—Beaconsfield.

CONTENTS.

PREFACE.

A continuous residence in London of eight years has satisfied me that precisely such a book, so far as it relates to that city, which my friend and once junior legal associate now presents is popularly needed.

That in such respect it will be vitally interesting, even to readers who have never been tourists thither, “goes without saying.” Moreover, there are in these pages views, comments and sights of the “abroad” and “at home” additionally valuable; therefore I gladly accept his invitation to prepare a short preface to this volume of an American M. P. in the Parliament of Letters.

He first broached his idea of papers about London at a capital luncheon, when meeting together there we discussed with palates, forks and wine glasses a tempting menu during the summer of 1890, as guests of Host Vogel, of the new Albermarle Hotel in Piccadilly, at the top of the historic St. James’s street.

We then and there drank success to the M. P. idea, and I doubt not, that every reader of this volume will be disposed to heartily duplicate that toast at his first dinner which shall follow its perusal.

When a tourist first arrives in London, beneath the inviting shadow of the Northwestern Railway station hotel, that is flanked by two smaller inns and its centre pierced by several taverns, or direct from Southampton at the Waterloo station, within rifle shot of which a score of hotels invite his luggage and his wearied frame, that tourist’s earliest question will be, which hospitable caravanserai shall I patronize?

His second question will concern his vehicular desires for transportation by cab, ’bus or railway. Other queries will suggest themselves regarding the “How,” the “Where,” the “Which” and the “Why” of his new London surroundings.

With this volume on shipboard en route: or in railway carriage in transitu, the tourist will already possess answers in his mind to those queries or similar ones respecting Edinburgh or Glasgow; and will not be at the mercy of chance or of confusing porters, or of contestant “cabbies,” or of the shady sharpers who throng railway platforms.

Once well housed in any of the places herein mentioned, and once understanding, by the aid of the ensuing pages, how to get about in the vast metropolis—wherein one may ride sixteen miles from extreme north to a suburban south, and fourteen miles from west to east without quitting paved and lighted streets, or the continuity of habitations—a traveler’s eyes and ears will be all the Mentors he will require.

Of so-called guide books (of which class this is not), there are in London and elsewhere abroad confusing scores, but the average tourist ought to shun guide-books as he would a Bradshaw, unless he loves charades, puzzles and conundrums.

Every mother knows that when her infant obtains his footing, the child will walk confidently. This volume serves to give the person who arrives in London or Edinburgh and kindred cities an instant footing. In the parlance of the race course, it is the “starter.”

On arrival, the first thing to do is to demand and learn the points of compass; because all enquiries about the “Where” in London hinge on those.

The papers by M. P. about cabs and omnibuses will be found as valuable as they are piquant. He tells of certain trips (and tips) on top of a ’bus; he vividly describes how the best way for exploring London is to ride in its every direction on the tops of omnibuses—devoting days to the task, or rather pleasure—and when, as street after street is passed, reading their names, which are always sign-affixed to the turn—a convenience even for residents which, in late years, is strangely unknown in New York City. Thereby locality and prominent buildings and often-referred-to neighborhoods become fixed in an observer’s mind for future uses of memory.

I learned to know London “like a book”—as common phrase goes: and, I therefore fully appreciate how much this book will serve to teach new tourists how to begin to learn London; how much it will revive pleasant memories in former tourists; how greatly it will instruct intending tourists; how pleasantly it will amuse those who may not expect to practically patronize the hotels; how well it will instruct as to London’s vehicles and the wonders of the English city, which is practically seventeen centuries older than New York.

But there are other sides and hues to this prismatic volume. Not only is it inviting to Americans who wish to know about the “across-the-ocean-ferry,” but it will be attractive to the countrymen of the M. P. who may travel or who would like to travel Westward, “where the star of Empire takes its way.” And also to the foreign tourist who may for only one week reside, in transitu to the States, upon the floating greyhoundish hotels which we call steamships.

Marvelous as London is to the American tourist, the wonders, the hotels, the coasts, and the traveling—especially toward the Pacific ocean—are equally marvelous to English M. P.’s and foreign ladies and gentlemen of fortune or leisure who seek transcontinental scenes and comforts.

Merely “turning the leaves,” a phrase happily used as a heading for book notices by the author of “Kissing the Rod” in his World newspaper of London, will at once show any buyer of this volume what I have implied.

A. OAKEY HALL.

Lotos Club, January 21, 1892.

LONDON ON WHEELS.
ABOVE GROUND, ON THE GROUND, AND UNDER GROUND.

THE UNDER-GROUND LINES.

How the five millions of people in London “get about” to their daily avocations and homes is a mystery to those who have not made the subject a study. So I have gathered some information which will throw a little light on it.

Let me start out with the statement that besides the ten large terminal stations, like the Euston Square and the Midland, both in Euston Road, there are four hundred and thirty railway stations within the metropolis, and the under-ground lines alone carry annually one hundred and twenty-five millions of passengers. The underground roads have been in existence for more than a quarter of a century, and are found to answer the purpose admirably of relieving the over-ground traffic. They are convenient, cheap and comparatively quick; but decidedly unpleasant, if not positively unhealthy.

They now form a network of rails under the surface, and they have been a success from the first. They are a great engineering triumph, and may be said to have marked a new epoch in the history of London. The act permitting the tunneling was passed in 1853. Mr. John Fowler conducted the herculean labor, and underneath the streets of the busiest of cities, down where the soil was honeycombed with other works—gas pipes, water mains, drains and sewers—a railway line, costing upwards of one hundred and fifty thousand pounds per mile, was constructed almost without the knowledge of those above. For three years—from the spring of 1860 to the beginning of 1863—two thousand men, two hundred horses and fifty-eight engines were employed. When completed another difficulty presented itself, but was overcome by Mr. Fowler, who invented a locomotive which could be worked in the open air like an ordinary engine, but which, while in the tunnel, emits neither steam nor smoke, being so constructed as to be able to condense the one and consume the other.

And yet, after a long ride in the under-ground, you always emerge with a headache.

Of course the cars have to be lighted artificially, and they had not learned to use the electric light in them when I last was in London in October, 1891. Gas is a poor substitute in such a place. You are forced to read your newspaper in a dim light, and the gas consumes much of the oxygen which gets into the tunnel from the stations, and from openings en route, which are made for the purpose.

Yet you do not get about as quickly in the underground as you would imagine. To avoid obstructions, and for mechanical reasons, the road takes a circuitous route and you frequently must ride a long way around to go a comparatively short distance.

Millions of Londoners, who go direct from home to business, seldom get into an under-ground train. There are many over-ground lines built on brick arches which go to the suburbs, where rents are low; for every Englishman must have his own house, no matter how small, which he regards as his “castle.” These trains are quick and cheap, and you are blessed with ample light and good air—at least as good as you can get in foggy, smoky London.

On all roads, whether on trunk lines, on local, overground or underground lines, there are first, second and third-class cars, or “carriages,” as they call them. Even some omnibuses that ply from the trunk line stations also have compartments for different classes; your Englishman is very particular with whom he rides.

Occasionally you meet with unpleasant companions in third-class carriages of local or suburban lines, but on through trains, say between Liverpool and London, the third-class carriages are comfortable, and the travelers of a respectable class.

There is a great difference in the rates, and on a long journey it is worth consideration. First-class fare is almost double that of third-class. Second-class is neither one thing nor the other, and on some lines it has been abolished.

It is an old saying that only princes, Americans and fools travel first-class. I don’t care under which head they place me, so long as they place me in a first-class “carriage.” That it is more comfortable is incontrovertible, if you’ll pardon such a big word. I say this in the face of what John Stuart Mill said, that the only reason he rode third-class was because there was no fourth.

ELECTRIC LINES UNDER GROUND.

The Forum last summer printed a very good description from the pen of Simon Sterne, of the new electric under-ground railway in London, and the Sunday Sun last autumn had an elaborate article on the subject, which, with illustrations, occupied nearly a whole page.

It is a quick and convenient means of locomotion, and to accomplish it was a work of wonderful engineering skill for which the inventor, Mr. Peter Greathead, cannot be praised too highly; but the riding is by no means pleasant.

In a lift large enough to accommodate fifty passengers, you descend a distance of eighty feet below the surface—part of the road running beneath the bed of the river Thames. The cars are small and fairly well lighted, but they have an unpleasant vibration, and although the air is not noticeably impure, there is an uncanny feeling with the knowledge that you are burrowing, as it were, in the bowels of the earth.

The road, probably an experimental one, is only three miles long, extending south from “the monument” in the city. It has not, thus far, proved a success pecuniarily, the cost of construction being so great, although no land was purchased except for the stations.

HANSOMS AND FOUR-WHEELERS.

Street cars are not needed in the city. Nearly all London streets are in as good condition for driving as our Central Park roads. There are eight thousand hansoms, four thousand four-wheelers, and two thousand omnibuses, so that you are not obliged to walk on account of the absence of cars. The four-wheeled cabs, or “growlers,” as they term them, are dilapidated, uncomfortable vehicles, which lack new springs, and are dirty both inside and out. The horses and the drivers are old and superannuated; they have all seen better days in private carriages or hansom cabs. You never take a four-wheeler if you are alone, or if the party consists of only two persons. You must engage one if you have a trunk, but if you are going to catch a train or boat you had better allow a half hour’s margin.

The London cab service is the best and cheapest in the world. I say this, notwithstanding that I remember hiring a cab in Key West, in the Gulf of Mexico, for a dime. But such cabs and such horses! The rate in a hansom is sixpence per mile for one or two persons, no fare less than one shilling (twenty-five cents); by the hour, two-and-six (sixty-two cents).

HOW THEY DRIVE.

England is the only place I know of where they drive to the left. English drivers say that by sitting on the right and driving to the left, they can better watch the hubs of approaching wheels, and thus prevent collisions. A cabbie’s attention is given entirely to the roadway; pedestrians must look out for themselves or be run over. That is why so many of the London police are engaged solely in attending to street traffic. Yet with all their vigilance, more accidents occur in London, proportionately, than elsewhere. London drivers are polite and very civil to each other. If an obstruction appears in front of a horse, or if for any reason he is obliged suddenly to slow up, the driver will immediately notify the driver in the rear by holding out horizontally his left arm; and this sign is passed down from one driver to another, until the very end of the line of blocked vehicles is reached.

People who have not visited London for several years, will find cabs greatly improved. There is a new, patent hansom. In these you are saved the trouble of opening and closing the doors; this is done by the driver by touching a lever on the top of the vehicle. The new style of cab has thick rubber tires, which add considerably to ease and comfort in riding. So little noise does the vehicle make in going over London’s smooth-paved streets, that these cabs are provided with bells to warn pedestrians of their approach. The interior fittings include a holder for lighted cigars, a box of matches, a small, bevelled mirror on either side of the cab, and a swinging rubber bulb attached to a rubber tube with a whistle at the end. You lightly press the bulb, and in this way whistle to Cabbie on top, who hears the summons above the roar of the streets, and responds by opening his trap door in the roof to receive instructions.

The law does not permit the drivers of these well-appointed and rather luxurious vehicles to charge more than do the drivers of the ordinary cabs; but as the new hansoms cost the drivers more to hire, and as they are so much superior to the old style, you do not begrudge paying a trifle extra. The drivers pay for these improved hansoms sixteen shillings (four dollars) per day, except during “the season,” when the owners exact a guinea per day, about five dollars.

The speed with which the London cabs are driven is something alarming—alarming to a stranger. In New York a cab driver has some little regard for the lives and limbs of pedestrians; in Paris the horses are so poor and skeleton-like, and go so slow, that pedestrians have no fear whatever; but in London you must look out wholly for yourself; Cabbie will certainly not look out for you. If he is engaged by the course, he only has his destination in mind. London cab horses are the best horses in the world used for such a purpose. With rubber tires to the wheels, and the wheels going over clean and perfectly smooth roadways, there is nothing to obstruct their speed, and the animals go like the wind. They and their drivers seem to stand in fear of nothing but a policeman, and as London has good laws for regulating vehicles, and as these laws are strictly obeyed, the mere warning look of a policeman is respected and obeyed.

London drivers are not so brutal nor so ill-tempered as New York drivers. They do not, as a rule, curse or swear at each other as ours do, who are always ready with a foul oath. If a “block” occurs they take it good-naturedly and get out of it with the aid of the police as quickly as possible. Our drivers are only satisfied when they can take a mean advantage of their fellows, get in their way and put them to inconvenience. It may be Yankee “goaheadativeness,” or the spirit of freedom and independence which prompts this show of ill-temper, but for my part I prefer the laughing, jocular, good-tempered London driver.

On my last visit to London, where I stayed one month, I saw a great many “blocks,” but heard only one quarrel between drivers, and that was not at all serious. They will, however, chaff each other, saying something like this:—“Oh, come, pull yourself together there;” or “I say, country, why don’t you learn to drive before you come up to London?” The term “up to London,” by the way, is put to singular use there. Although London is in the south of England, you always go “up to London,” if you even go from Carlisle, which is in the extreme north, on the Scotch border.

STREET CARS.

There are no street cars run by the trolley, storage or any other electric system; no cable cars, no horse cars; not a track is laid for a surface road in “the city” proper. Many Americans leave London without ever seeing a street car of any kind, and yet in the metropolis one thousand street cars run daily over one hundred and twenty miles of track, but they are not permitted in crowded thoroughfares; they are confined to the outlying districts. I have only seen them in the east end, in the district known as “The Boro’” and near the Victoria Station. The street cars are “double deckers,” and, like the ’buses, they carry more outside than inside passengers, but the number of passengers is limited. When the car has reached its limit it will take up no more passengers. Every passenger has the right to a seat, and, to use a paradoxical phrase, every Englishman stands up for his right to a seat.

OMNIBUSES.

The two thousand omnibuses keep employed eight or nine thousand horses. The number of miles run annually by the omnibuses is five and a half millions, and the number of passengers carried not less than forty-eight millions.

Such a heavy, slow-going, cumbersome vehicle as the London omnibus could not be used on our rough-and-tumble roads. It is poorly ventilated, if you can call it ventilated, for the windows are closed and are immovable. The only means of ventilation is by the door, in the rear, near which everybody tries to get. As fast as the choice seats near the door are vacated, they are occupied by the less fortunate passengers, and the last comer is always obliged to take the worst place, which is nearest the front. But in fine weather a man never gets inside while there is a vacant seat on top, and it is no strange sight to see women occupying outside seats to escape the stifling air inside.

Nor does wet weather deter an Englishman from taking an open air seat. Most Englishmen wear a “mackintosh” in threatening weather and there’s a great deal of such weather in London. To every seat on the top of a ’bus there is attached a woolen-lined leather apron to protect the knees, and with an umbrella, which is always part of an Englishman’s costume, they manage to keep perfectly dry.

The omnibuses are so freely used for advertising purposes, the outside is so nearly covered with attractive and gaudy signs of business houses that it is exceedingly difficult to read or discover the route or destination of the vehicle. You may be looking for Blackwall or Putney, but you will read “Hyams’ thirteen-shilling trousers “or “Day & Martin’s blacking is the best.”

The ’buses do not confine themselves to the middle of the roadway and allow passengers to pick and fight their way through a crowd of vehicles, New York-like; they pull up to the curb to allow passengers to enter or leave without the least possibility of danger or trouble. Conductors will also leave their perch, approach the sidewalk (Anglice, pavement) to consult or advise with a prospective passenger who is in doubt as to which ’bus he should take. Time seems of no importance: they are not in such a rush or whirl of excitement as we are. Whether from the excessive competition or from some other cause I know not: I do know that public servants in England are much more civil and polite than they are in this “free” country.

There are rules which control London omnibuses, and these it is the duty of the police to strictly enforce. A ’bus is licensed and allowed to carry only so many passengers, and this license or limit must be posted on a conspicuous part of the vehicle. The majority are “licensed to carry twenty-six passengers; twelve inside and fourteen outside.”

In 1890 the London police force numbered thirteen thousand eight hundred and fifty-five men, not counting the nine hundred and two officers who form a special organization in what is termed “the city.” A considerable part of the time and attention of the police is devoted to governing street traffic. Policemen will watch and follow a ’bus for several blocks if they think it contains more passengers than the law allows. When they are assured that this is the case they go to a magistrate and lay a complaint, and then woe betide the poor driver or conductor who disregarded the law.

The ’buses make special stops at certain points of their route and these seem very long and prove tedious to one who is in a hurry; but if your time is valuable you would never take a ’bus. They are not allowed to stop when near or nearing these special stopping-places, not even if a passenger expresses a desire to alight. I remember once, simply for information, asking the driver to stop in the middle of Trafalgar square, just as we were passing Nelson’s monument, on the way to the Strand, cityward. “Well,” said the polite but uneducated Jehu, “you carn’t expect me to get a four-shilling summons for a penny fare, can you?” meaning that if he pulled up where I indicated he would be summoned the next day on the complaint of a vigilant “bobby” and be obliged to pay four shillings for accommodating me.

In American street cars or omnibuses—excepting, as I remember in San José, California, a passenger who rides only a few blocks helps to pay the fare of the man who rides the full length of the road, for the charge to both is the same. It is not so (mis) managed in England. The charge there is by distance, about one penny (two cents) a mile and you pay according to the distance you ride. There are two or three lines of omnibuses whose only fare is a half-penny (one cent). One line runs between Westminster bridge and Trafalgar square. They pick up no passengers between the two points. They each carry only twelve passengers; there are no outside seats.

There is a great deal of pilfering going on among omnibus conductors, and drivers also, for they divide the spoils; and the company winks at it, knowing that the pay of these men is too small. The company is satisfied if it receives a fair average return, but in this way it puts a premium on dishonesty. There is no check against the conductors—no mechanical contrivance to record fares. They are supposed to enter every fare and the exact amount they receive from each passenger on a paper slip placed in a frame, the frame being fastened to the inside of the omnibus door, but it is only a supposition. Passengers are requested to see that the amount paid is properly entered, but the request is wholly unheeded. It is, to say the least, a very careless way of keeping accounts, and invites dishonesty. On some lines they use tickets showing the amount each passenger pays, but a conductor sometimes forgets to hand you a ticket. An Inspector will occasionally mount a ’bus to see that all the passengers are supplied with tickets, and then the conductor with a treacherous memory has reason to be sorry. Keep out of a “pirate ’bus.” The rate in these ’buses is not uniform, and overcharges are not uncommon.

ON THE TOP OF A ’BUS.

The driver is generally a jolly, red-faced fellow and very smartly dressed, especially on Sunday. He then always wears a “top hat:” in winter it is of black silk, in summer a pearl gray felt with a wide mourning band to set it off. His coat is often a double-breasted drab cassimere, and in the top buttonhole of the left lapel is a large and loud nose-gay. A showy scarf and a pair of heavy, tan-colored driving gloves complete his costume. He makes quite a picture as he sits on the box, with a leather strap across his waist which holds him securely in his seat, and a black leather apron to protect the lower part of his body from wind and rain. He carries a showy whip with a very long and loose thong, with the end of which he can pick off a fly from the ear of his leader.

The ’bus driver is permitted to smoke while on duty. He comforts himself with a briarwood pipe unless a generous passenger treats him to a cigar, for he is not above accepting a small present.

Leopold Rothschild, who lives on a street through which omnibuses pass, has taken a great fancy to these men and in the autumn he presents a pair of pheasants to every omnibus driver and conductor who passes his door.

Everybody who has visited London knows that the best way of seeing the city is from the top of a ’bus. Get a front seat, next to the driver, hand him a tip in the shape of a sixpence and ask him a few questions. You will find that he is intelligent, well-informed on every-day subjects, quick-witted and a judge of human nature.

I had a very interesting ride last summer on the top of a “Kilburn” ’bus. These ’buses start from Victoria station, and run northwest to Kilburn, through some very beautiful thoroughfares, in which reside many titled people and some prominent members of London society.

In Grosvenor place, soon after starting from the station, the driver will point out, for instance, the residences of the Dukes of Northumberland, Grafton and Portland; that of the Earl of Scarborough, at No. 1 Grosvenor place; the Dowager Lady de Rothschild; Sir Edward Cecil Guinness; that of the late Right Hon. William H. Smith; also the homes of a number of members of parliament, more or less well-known.

The ’bus goes a short distance through Piccadilly and passes the residences of Baron Ferdinand Rothschild, Lord Rothschild, the Duke of Wellington and the Duke of Hamilton, in Hamilton place.

Then it turns into one of London’s most aristocratic streets, Park Lane (alongside Hyde Park), where reside the Duchess of Somerset, the Marquis of Londonderry, Lord Brassey, Alfred Rothschild, Lord Dudley, the Countess of Dudley, Lord Grosvenor, cousin to the Duke of Westminster, and the Duke of Westminster himself. The Duke’s wealth is untold, and he owns miles of valuable land in this and the adjacent districts.

A ’bus marked “Hammersmith” will take you westward, through Piccadilly, past the clubs, the parks, some stylish shops, and fashionable residences. You will see St. James’s Palace and historic Addison Road, en route, and you can ride across Hammersmith Bridge. You can also go to Kew Gardens and to the famous “Star and Garter,” at Richmond, by ’bus.

Here’s another very interesting ride. If you are at Oxford Circus you will see omnibuses with the horses’ heads turned eastward, and you will hear the Cockney conductor calling out “Benk, benk, Charing Cross, benk.” Take a ride with him. The vehicle goes through Regent street, Trafalgar Square, the Strand, Fleet street, then down Cheapside (which is anything but cheap), and Cornhill, where there is neither corn nor hill. At the end of Cornhill you see the most crowded and bustling crush of vehicles you ever saw in your life. To the right is the Mansion House (corresponding with our City Hall); a little further on “The Monument,” with its gold torch at top, looms up; immediately in front is The Royal Exchange, with its Peabody statue, while to the left stands the demure Bank of England, as solid from a financial point of view as it is architecturally. On this route you pass and have in view The National Gallery, Landseer’s lions, several famous hotels and theatres, the Law Courts, Temple Bar, the principal newspaper establishments, and St. Paul’s Church. The same ’bus, if you wish to pursue your journey eastward, will take you through Leadenhall street and into the very heart of Whitechapel—even to Blackwall and the docks, if your taste lies in that direction.

There is no better way of seeing London than from the top of a ’bus if you get a seat next to an old and wide-awake driver, and the cost is but a few pennies. There are one hundred and forty different routes in the whole city to choose from.

THE CITY TRAFFIC.

One of the busiest thoroughfares is that narrow street called “the Strand,” where it is crossed by Wellington street. You drive north, through Wellington street, past the Lyceum Theatre to get to Holborn, Covent Garden Market and elsewhere; southward there is great traffic over Waterloo Bridge, leading to the Surrey side of London, while from the east and west come continuous streams of omnibuses, cabs, carriages and heavy wagons and freight trucks. Policemen stand in the middle of the roadway and regulate this enormous traffic by merely raising a white-cotton-gloved hand. They are calm and immovable, and seem to pay not the slightest heed to their own safety amid the crowded crush of vehicles about them. All come to a standstill before the stiff and fearless “bobby.” When by waving his hand he directs that a certain stream of vehicles may proceed this way or that, it proceeds, but not until he gives permission.

London Bridge is said to be the greatest thoroughfare in the world. More vehicles and foot passengers cross it than pass through any other street, and special provision is made for vehicular traffic. In New York, for instance, a heavily laden four-horse truck or wagon may block Broadway for a great distance. If you are behind it in a phaeton or light carriage, you must wait till the driver in front of you, who may be sullen and obstinate, leisurely moves out of the way. No matter in how much haste you are—you may be trying to catch a train or an ocean steamer—you must wait. Not so in London’s most crowded streets. On London Bridge, for instance, slow-going and heavily-laden vehicles must keep to the side near the curb and pavement, while carriages, cabs and light vehicles are allowed the middle of the roadway for quick movement. That part of the roadway directly next to the curb has a smooth surface, and there is also a smooth surface about a foot wide for the outer wheel of heavy wagons—this only on London Bridge and in a few other very busy thoroughfares. It is a capital plan, and gives satisfaction to all concerned.

ADVICE FROM CHARLES DICKENS.

But in such a vast city, with such enormous traffic, nothing can prevent great loss of life and accidents innumerable from crossing the streets. The point mentioned above is only one of the busy parts of one street—the Strand—from another point, down by the Law Courts and Temple Bar, it is said that two hundred more or less mangled bodies are sent to the Charing Cross Hospital every year.

The present Charles Dickens, in his “Dictionary of London,” thinks it worth while to suggest that the only way to go from curb to curb is to make up your mind what course you will take, and then stick to it. London cabbies will thus divine your intentions. To change your mind while crossing is to confuse the cabmen, and cause you (so Dickens suggests) to make your return journey to America in the form of freight.

As all vehicles in London are driven to the left, keep to the left curb. I found this suggestion of Oakey Hall’s valuable: “As you leave a curb, look to the right; as you approach a curb, look to the left.”

LONDON HOTELS.

Until the year 1880 there was only one hotel in London that came up to the expectations of American travelers, which compared in size and appointments with American hotels of the first-class. This was the Langham Hotel in Portland place. When the Langham was built, nearly thirty years ago, and for several subsequent years, as the writer can attest, for he was a guest there in 1871, and has been a frequent visitor there since, the Langham was large enough to accommodate all American tourists in London.

This, however, has been greatly changed. Americans at that time merely passed through London; they took it as a sort of stepping-stone en route for Paris. In the days of the Second Empire, when Louis Napoleon wielded the sceptre, and Eugenie set the fashions for the civilized world, Americans flocked to Paris like so many sheep. Then it was said: “See Paris and die.” With the downfall of the empire and its accompanying glories our compatriots found Paris less attractive, and they discovered what everybody knows—that London is, in many respects, the most interesting city in the world. A presentation to Her Majesty, and hob-nobbing with the Prince of Wales, are the things now most desired, and to be in the very height of fashion, one must hire a London house for “the season,”—May, June and July.

THE LANGHAM HOTEL.

But this is a digression. The ground, the structure and the furnishing of the Langham Hotel, which was formally opened by the Prince of Wales in June, 1865, cost a million and a half dollars, and it was a wonder and a revelation to the English people. Its noble granite front of two hundred and twelve feet, its dining hall, forty-seven by one hundred and twenty feet; its music room, drawing-room, and its public rooms generally, were on such a grand scale that Londoners opened wide their eyes in astonishment and admiration. The Langham, by liberal outlay of money and constant improvement, keeps up with the times, and notwithstanding that many splendid establishments have been erected within the last decade, it retains its place in the very front rank. People who have not seen the interior of the Langham Hotel, London, since 1890, will notice some changes and marked improvements. Heretofore the dining-room was only entered by a comparatively dark and roundabout way, near the drawing-room; now it is approached from “the office” direct, through a wide and handsome “vestibule,” which is flooded with light and richly furnished, making an appropriate entrance to the beautiful dining-room. The drawing-room, which, for its size, its pleasing shape and rich furniture is yet one of the most attractive salons in England, has also been greatly improved.

Colonel Sanderson, its first manager, an American, died many years ago. He was brother to Harry Sanderson, famous in his day in New York as a pianist. But English capitalists and business men are not given to making changes, and so we find that Mr. Walter Gosden, who was in the service of the Langham under Mr. Sanderson’s management, has been for many years and is now the manager of the hotel. You can get a nice room with beautiful outlook, and a very good breakfast here for less than two dollars a day. This estimate includes the charge for attendance. Address, Walter Gosden, Portland place, Regent street, W.

THE GRAND.

During the past twelve years, however, many superb buildings for hotel purposes have been erected in the English metropolis. Among the largest and most popular are the three grouped together, as it were, in one short street, Northumberland avenue, which, only two blocks long, extends in a southerly direction from Trafalgar square to the banks of the Thames. These are the Grand, the Métropole and the Victoria, to name them in the order they were erected. So popular has this cluster of hotels become, and so many well-to-do Americans do they attract, that property in the neighborhood has largely increased in value, and the tradespeople blame the “Yankees” for the increased rents they have to pay, never speaking of the increased patronage which they enjoy from these same “Yankees.”

The features of the Grand Hotel, the longest established of these three, are well-known, but former patrons will scarcely recognize the reception-room, which, with its new, solid-looking furniture and rich, dark decorations, is now one of the most attractive apartments of its kind to be seen, even in these days of the upholsterer and decorator. While artistic and costly, it has an air of utility and comfort which you will not find very often repeated. The drawing-room of the Grand was to be “done up” during last winter, so the secretary informed me, and “it will be just as handsome as the reception-room.” Cable, Granotel, London.

HÔTEL MÉTROPOLE.

To American visitors in London the Métropole is one of the most attractive of the more recently built hotels. Situated as it is, and being replete with all the latest conveniences and features, no hotel in the metropolis approaches nearer to the ideal which was first evolved in the United States of the model modern caravansary. To dwell upon the subject of the general characteristics of the Hôtel Métropole would be superfluous; they and it are too well known to Americans who have visited London, but a short description of the celebrated “grand salon” of the Métropole, as it has lately been refitted and decorated (Sept. 1891), will be read with interest.

The scheme of adornment is most tasteful, and perfectly and harmoniously carried out in all details. Two shades of maroon in contrast with white and gold are the leading features of the ensemble, and the general effect of this combination is extremely felicitous and pleasing. The wall space between the lofty windows and the immense mirrors is covered with stamped Utrecht velvet of a soft, natural tint and richness of design. The pillars are painted in maroon, with gilt capitals, an arrangement of color which is at once novel and agreeable to the eye. The patterns on the flutings of the beams which support the roof are picked out in gold on a white ground.

The roof panels are covered with dull gold of a peculiarly restful tint, and the design introduced in various portions of the general decoration have an unusually æsthetic character. The electric lights, of which there are a considerable number, are surrounded by cut crystal pendants and greatly enhance the brilliancy of the illumination. In the center of the room is a palm, the leaves of which shadow a space thirty feet in circumference. It towers toward the ceiling, and for grace and beauty is not easily equalled in Florida, nor greatly excelled even in California. Tree palms are placed at intervals throughout the spacious room, producing a pleasing effect of verdure, and each of the separate tables is adorned with flowers; while the rich candelabra, with handsome shades placed upon each table, afford the subdued light which is preferable to the cruder glare of the former style of lighting. The general coup d’œil in the grand salon is singularly graceful and attractive.

A large number of public and private banquets take place at the Hôtel Métropole, this being one of the recognized resorts for ceremonies of that description.

At the Métropole the “show” apartments are known as the Eugenie and Marie Antoinette suites, and they have afforded many a descriptive writer material for an article. Probably no hotel sleeping chambers equal these for rich and costly decoration—for the laces, the frescoes and luxurious furniture. The reader will know that ample means were at command when told that in the selection of site, in constructing and furnishing the Métropole, half a million sterling (two and a half million dollars) were expended. And such a success has the Métropole proved that the company were encouraged to invest further in hotel property with the result that they now own and control three hotels of the first class in London, also five other hotels in different parts of Europe. Among these are the Métropole at Monte Carlo, the Métropole at Cannes, and the Métropole at Brighton, the last named being the latest hotel erected by this company, and one which will compare in many respects with the most renowned hotels of the world. Rooms at the London Métropole from five shillings to one pound per day; breakfast from two-and-six-pence to four shillings; table d’hôte dinner, six shillings—one dollar and a half. Manager, Wm. T. Hollands.

HOTEL VICTORIA.

The latest constructed of these three hotels is the Hotel Victoria. Printed words cannot easily convey to the mind an adequate idea of the magnificence of this structure. The public rooms of the Victoria are palatial in their proportions and appointments, the grand staircase is a marvel of beauty, and the sleeping rooms contain all the conveniences and contrivances found in modern hotels of the highest class. Besides the comforts characteristic of an English house, and the luxurious cuisine of a continental hotel, the attention and the discipline which rule at the Victoria remind one of an American hotel.

You need have no fear at the Victoria that the cards of friends calling will not be promptly sent to you: nor is there any delay or trouble at this house, as there is at certain hotels in the Strand, about the delivery of telegrams, letters and packages. Each guest is known to the officials and servants, not by name, but by number—the number of the room he occupies. Letters are placed in your box up to a certain hour of the evening, after that hour they are sent to your room. There is a package-room, also a “package clerk,” who receives all bundles, signs therefor, and enters the same in a book, so that it may be known immediately if a package has been received for a guest.

If a telegram or a card from a caller is received and the key to your room is not in its box, thus indicating that you are in your room, or at least in the house, a servant is immediately dispatched to your room, while a little page in livery is started off through all the halls and public rooms calling out in a loud voice your room number in this fashion, “Number 630, please.” If you are anywhere under the roof you are sure to be found by this excellent method.

A feature of the Hotel Victoria is a corps of valets. There are seven floors in the building, each accommodating about sixty or seventy guests, and to each floor a valet is assigned who performs all the ordinary duties of such a servant. Shoes are not carried down below to be mixed and confused with hundreds of others, but are polished by the valet on your floor. The valet also enters your room during your absence, removes all the clothes he finds hanging or lying about, brushes and folds the same and puts them back neatly. It is a convenience, returning to your hotel late in the evening and in haste to dress for dinner or the theatre, to find your evening suit nicely folded and brushed, ready to put on. These and other provisions for the comfort of guests indicate the general care in management and the close attention to detail which obtain at the Victoria, and which have given it its wide reputation. The appointments include a billiard room with five full-sized tables. Good rooms on fifth floor, a dollar and a half a day. This includes attendance and lights. Breakfast from two shillings to three-and-six; table d’hôte luncheon about the same; table d’hôte dinner, one dollar and a quarter. Manager, Henry Logan.

LONG’S HOTEL.

There is another trio of London hotels that may be grouped together, on account of their proximity—the Hotel Albemarle (Albemarle street and Piccadilly), Long’s hotel (Bond street), and the Hotel Bristol (Burlington Gardens, between Bond and Regent streets). The last two are but a few yards apart. They are all entirely new buildings, and new also in name and history, except Long’s, which was erected on the ground where the first Long’s stood for two hundred years. Long’s, though not of great capacity, has a larger number of richly furnished bedrooms than the Ponce de Leon, in St. Augustine, Fla. For the beauty of the exterior and the magnificent surroundings of the Ponce de Leon, as well as for the Oriental splendor of its public rooms, no words of praise can be too lavish. But the two hotels, “the Ponce” and Long’s, cannot be compared; their characteristics are so different. One is like a royal palace in the country, the other resembles a gentleman’s quiet, city home. Long’s differs from every other hotel I have seen in this respect, that all of its bedrooms have rich hangings, and the walls of each are decorated with works of art. The apartments are not cold and bare, as are the bedrooms of most hotels; they suggest home-like comforts, and are furnished in the best taste. The walls of the dining-room at Long’s are hung with Gobelin tapestry, and on the whole it may be called a beautifully appointed hotel. H. J. Herbert, manager.

THE BRISTOL.

They have some very attractive hotels in Boston; the Brunswick, for example, and everybody has heard of the beautiful Spanish hotels in St. Augustine, and the great Auditorium in Chicago. I have lived at all these houses, also at the Hotel del Coronado, Coronado Beach, and at California’s other famous house, the Hotel del Monte, at Monterey, with its 126 acres for a garden. There are few or none that are more gorgeous than these, and they always come to one’s memory when discussing the best hotels, but certainly New York City cannot boast of a hotel interior that equals in tasteful decorations those of the Bristol in London. It is a gem in its way.

A veritable bijou of a room is the reception room of the Bristol. It is minus the onyx tables and costly paintings you see at the Ponce de Leon in St. Augustine, and the “gold” chairs that dazzle your eyes in so many American hotels: everything in this room at the Bristol, from the soft carpet on the floor to the decoration on the ceiling, is rich, but also quiet in tone—soothing and harmonious. The Royal Academy, the Burlington Arcade (a fashionable shopping street) and Piccadilly are all within a few hundred feet of the Bristol. The Bristol is patronized by such well-known New Yorkers as the Vanderbilts, the Twomblys and the owner of the New York World. Telegraph or write to the Bristol Hotel, Burlington Gardens, London, W.

THE HOTEL ALBEMARLE.

Although rebuilt and opened as recently as the beginning of 1890, the Hotel Albemarle has already gained a position and reputation as one of the most select and fashionable hotels in London. Its situation, to begin with, has undoubtedly had much to do with its immediate success. It conspicuously fronts the north end of the celebrated thoroughfare, St. James’s street, in the centre of the court quarter of London, and stands at the corner of Albemarle street and Piccadilly. No better location for a hotel destined to be at once aristocratic and accessible to the traveling public could have been selected. Towering high above the surrounding buildings, the Albemarle, with its double façade, seventy-five feet on Piccadilly and seventy-five feet on the street from which it takes its name, cannot fail to attract observation. It is built of terra cotta in the Francis I. style of architecture, and the general effect is both graceful and imposing.

The main entrance is in Albemarle street. The interior of the hotel is furnished and decorated in a variety of styles of the Renaissance period. The furniture and decoration of the dining-room, ladies’ drawing-room on the ground floor, the fitting and decoration of the hall and staircase, are treated in the style of Francis I. The style of Henri II. has been adopted for the first and second floors; the third floor is in the style of Louis XV., and the fourth in that of Louis XIV. Special mention must be made of the “Rubens Room,” furnished and decorated effectively in the Louis XV. style. This apartment derives its name from a fine painting which adorns the ceiling, and which is believed to be from the brush, either of Rubens himself or of one of his pupils.

The furnishing, fitting and decorating of the Hotel Albemarle were effected by the well-known London firm of Shoolbred, after designs from a famous French artist. The building being of such recent erection, it is scarcely necessary to state that none of the modern improvements has been neglected in its construction. The most careful attention has been paid to sanitary arrangements, and the hotel is lighted throughout by electricity. In the two years which have elapsed since it was opened, it has quickly become renowned for the excellence of its cuisine and service. Its wine cellar is one of the choicest in London.

Royalty, the nobility, and visitors of the highest fashion patronize the Hotel Albemarle. During the London season, in particular, its rooms are crowded with distinguished guests. To Americans, especially, it should prove a most attractive resort, if only on account of the brilliant and aristocratic neighborhood in which it is situated. St. James’s Park, St. James’s Palace and Marlborough House are near at hand. Hyde Park, with its “Drive” and “Row,” is within five minutes’ walk. The Art Galleries, the theatres, the Opera House, the Houses of Parliament, the clubs, Westminster Abbey, and several of the principal museums are within the compass of a shilling cab fare. The best and most fashionable shops in London are situated in the near vicinity, in Piccadilly and in Bond and Regent streets, while Oxford street, where many of the cheaper shops are to be found, is but a short distance off—in short, it may be said that the Hotel Albemarle stands almost in the centre of the fashionable life and business of London.

Interest attaches to Albemarle street itself as an historical thoroughfare. During the last century it enjoyed peculiar reputation as a place of residence at the west end of the metropolis, and not a little of this old-time prestige clings to it still. The Prince of Wales, afterwards George the Second, once lived in Albemarle street, and when Louis the Eighteenth of France was in England in 1814 he made it his place of stay, and held, at the now defunct “Grillon’s Hotel,” his receptions of the leaders of the English nobility. The famous publishing house, Murray’s, through whose doors have passed such celebrities in the world of letters as Byron, Scott, Southey, Crabbe, Hallam, Tom Moore, Gifford, Lockhart, Washington Irving and many others, is situated immediately opposite the entrance to the Hotel. You would never imagine that it was a publishing house or business house of any kind. It looks like an ordinary private dwelling, and the only sign on the building is one small, dull brass plate on the front wall upon which is engraved “Mr. Murray.”

The proprietor of the Hotel Albemarle is Mr. A. L. Vogel. He is to be congratulated on the rapid success he has met with in his efforts to establish one of the best of London hotels. Mr. Vogel has purchased the freehold of property adjoining the Albemarle Hotel, and a large addition to the hotel will be erected presently, thus affording room for a new salle a manger and some thirty more bedrooms.

Mr. Vogel issues as a “Guide to London” a comprehensive and, in its way, a complete little book of fifty pages, illustrated and prettily bound in cloth. It is sent free to any address in the world on application. Address The Albemarle, Albemarle street, Piccadilly, London.

THE BURLINGTON HOTEL.

The Burlington is in Cork street, a select, and fashionable business thoroughfare between Bond street and Regent street. In this immediate locality are also to be found Long’s Hotel, the Bristol, Almond’s Hotel, patronized by Chauncey Depew and his family, and Brown’s Hotel in Dover street. The last-named house affects not to desire American patronage. The Burlington has enjoyed for over a century a truly unique reputation and position in London. The hotel, as seen from the Burlington street side, has a dignified exterior. It was erected in the year 1723, after designs by Kent, by Richard, third earl of Burlington, but the Cork street side was added to the old hotel in 1828.

It contains about one hundred and fifty rooms, and among these are as fine apartments as may be met with in any hotel in the world. The hotel entrance and the staircase are strikingly attractive, and the galleries, opening from the staircase to the first floor, have a most charming effect. Pretty alcoves occupy the ends of the gallery, and on the side opposite to the colonnade, which looks on to the staircase, is a richly ornamented doorway leading to the drawing-rooms. The latter possess curiously decorated ceilings, painted in oil, with vases, birds, foliage, etc., the work of an Italian artist of the eighteenth century.

The bedrooms are also interesting, as they retain their original carved wood mantelpieces and doorways. There are several noble old rooms on the ground floor with tastefully designed mantelpieces, panelling, cornices, doorways and richly painted ceilings, which might have served for the background of one of Hogarth’s pictures.

In the halls are fine, delicately carved benches by Grinling Gibbons. In their time the old frescoes have been admired by many famous celebrities who have sojourned at the Burlington. “Kitty,” the celebrated Countess of Queensberry, friend of Gay, dispensed her well-known hospitality at this hostelry, and Florence Nightingale occupied a suite of apartments there for some months after the Crimean war. Here, too, Macaulay wrote a portion of his famous history.

Coming to more recent times, there is scarcely a well-known face in London that does not know this aristocratic hotel. Lord Beaconsfield, when he was plain “Mr. Disraeli,” was president of a committee which met there weekly for the purpose of erecting a statue to the memory of the late Earl of Derby. The ex-premier, Mr. Gladstone, and his family have patronized the Burlington for the past fifty years. The Marquis of Salisbury may be occasionally passed in the corridors on his way to the royal apartments of King Leopold, and the Prince of Wales arrives unattended to visit august relatives, who patronize the Burlington. Henry Irving gives his delightful dinner parties there, and the Royal College of Physicians have dined there monthly since 1830. Among distinguished Americans whose names are on the books, may be found George Peabody, the philanthropist, who resided there for eight months, also Jefferson Davis, John Jacob Astor, Mr. Bancroft, General Schenck and General Sandford. Henry M. Stanley also is on the cosmopolitan list of celebrated guests of the Burlington.

The Burlington, as well as the Buckingham Palace Hotel, opposite Buckingham Palace, has for many years been managed by Mr. George Cooke, who is one of the proprietors, and under whose administration both hotels have acquired a reputation second to none in Europe. Electric light, new sanitation and every other modern improvement have been introduced, and both the British public, as well as American visitors to London, have been quick to appreciate Mr. Cooke’s effort to make his hotels real London homes for people of taste and refinement.

THE SAVOY.

A London hotel that has, so to speak, jumped into popularity is the Savoy Hotel. It is a new house, on the Victoria embankment, with the Strand at its back, the public gardens in front and the Thames at its feet. It lies between Charing Cross and Waterloo Bridge, and for a “finger post” it has Cleopatra’s needle. There is an entrance for foot passengers from the Strand and a carriage drive from the embankment directly into the courtyard, like that of the Palace Hotel in San Francisco, the Grand Hotel in Paris, and the Grand in Brussels. In fact, the Savoy is more like a continental than an English house, and the owners call it “the Hotel de Luxe of the world.” Luxurious in site, size and appointments, the Savoy certainly is. It is not continental, however, in its system of charges. Nor for that matter is it like any other London hotel, its system being American. In all Parisian hotels candles are a separate charge: in nearly all European hotels attendance is a separate item, and in most hotels in the civilized world you must pay extra for baths. Not so at the Savoy. When you are told the rate for an apartment everything is included—everything of course but meals—bedroom, lights, attendance and baths. There are sixty-seven bath rooms in the house, and beneath it there is an artesian well four hundred and twenty feet deep. The boiling water, as well as the cold, like Jacobs’s bottle, is inexhaustible, and you can bathe to your heart’s content. You can hire a room for two persons for two dollars a day, or you may engage a suite at twenty dollars a day.

As to table, you may live economically at the Savoy, or you may live like a prince—a rich prince. Here are the definite and fixed rates at the Savoy:—bedrooms for one person, from seven and sixpence (nearly two dollars) per day; for two persons, ten-and-six; suites of apartments containing sitting-room, bed-room, dressing-room and private bath-room, from thirty shillings per day. Breakfast from two shillings to three-and-six; luncheon, four shillings; dinner, seven-and-six; dinner served in private rooms ten-and-six. Guests’ servants are boarded at six shillings per day; price of room according to location. If you want to live in style and enjoy, at its best, life in London, engage a suite at the Savoy, including parlor and bath-room, with private lobby and private balcony overlooking the Thames. It makes no difference what floor you select: there are “lifts” in the house, so large and luxurious as to be justly called “ascending rooms:” they run day and night. The rooms on the top floor are equal in height of ceiling to those on the lower floors, and the furniture is of the same quality throughout the house. General manager, C. Ritz; acting manager, L. Echenard.

HOTEL WINDSOR.

The Hotel Windsor is in Victoria street, only five minutes’ walk from Victoria Station, two minutes’ walk from the American Legation, a few steps from Westminster Abbey, Westminster Bridge, the Houses of Parliament, St. James’s Park and the Home Office. The dining-room of the Windsor is an especially cheerful apartment and it overlooks the pretty garden of a church. The great plate glass windows in this dining-room are larger than the windows in any other hotel, so large that they are only moved up or down by ropes to which handles are attached. They let in plenty of daylight, almost as much as streams freely into the dining-room of the Hotel Pasaje, Havana, which opens on the street, and which is not encumbered with windows at all.

The Hotel Windsor is not only kept by a “proprietor” in the accepted American use of that term, but the furniture, the building and the ground on which it stands are owned in fee (“freehold,” as English people call it), by two men, J. R. Cleave and V. D. B. Cooper, the first named being the actual and active manager of the house, who makes it his home, the title of the firm being J. R. Cleave & Co. The premises include fifteen thousand square feet of ground, which, without the imposing ten-story stone structure upon it, is valued at forty-five thousand pounds sterling—not far short of a quarter million dollars.

The Windsor is fortunate in its location. A shilling cab takes you to any theatre or to the shopping centre, and ’buses pass the door every minute for Charing Cross, Trafalgar square and the Strand. Time, ten minutes; fare, two cents, inside or out.

There is a lift at the Windsor of modern style; the house is lighted by electricity; there are Turkish and swimming baths on the lower floor; to avoid disagreeable odors the kitchen is at the top of the house; the bedrooms are scrupulously clean, the cuisine and wines are of the best quality, and the charges moderate. You can live at the Windsor, if you prefer it, on the American plan—rate, about four dollars a day. The European plan is also moderate in price for rooms and meals—a delicious lunch for sixty cents: choice service.

If this is the description of a model hotel, worthy in every respect of the best patronage, “that,” as humorist Gilbert says, “is the idea I intended to convey.” The Windsor was built about twelve years ago. Address, J. R. Cleave, manager, Victoria street, Westminster, S. W.

BAILEY’S HOTELS.

Americans going to London for business, intent upon shopping, theatre-going and a round of sight-seeing, find hotels in the Strand, or hotels near Trafalgar square, very convenient. Reference is made to the Grand, the Métropole, the Savoy, and the Victoria, in their alphabetical order. The Langham, in Portland place, and those select houses near Burlington Gardens and Piccadilly—Long’s, the Bristol, the Burlington and the Albermarle, are also central, convenient, and in a fashionable district.

If, however, a family is going to London for a protracted stay and the desire of their hearts is to be in an ultra-fashionable locality, where the aristocracy reside, and where quiet and selectness reign and salubrity is assured, then Bailey’s Hotel, on the corner of Gloucester and Cromwell roads, is recommended and recommends itself. If you are in haste and do not care for a cab, the “underground” will take you from “the city” or from Charing Cross to Bailey’s Hotel in fifteen minutes, fare five cents, third class; fifteen cents in a first-class carriage.

When you reach Gloucester Road Station you are at Bailey’s Hotel, and within a few minutes walk of Hyde Park, Kensington Gardens, Cromwell Gardens, Stanhope Gardens, Queen’s Gate Gardens, etc., etc. Near at hand are the Albert Memorial, Albert Hall, and South Kensington Museum. Not only is Bailey’s Hotel in the heart of this fashionable locality, surrounded by the residences of members of the nobility and others, but the hotel itself is under royal patronage, and has entertained the Prince of Wales, the Duke of Edinburgh, the Duke of Connaught, the Princess Marie, the Princess Louise, and other members of the royal household.

The hotel, which stands on the property of Lord Harrington, who owns all the land hereabouts, was built in 1875. It is a brick building, six stories high—a modern hotel with modern improvements, and all possible safeguards against annoyances and dangers. There are accommodations for two hundred and fifty guests. In the rear of the house is a beautiful garden.

The decorations and furnishings of the apartments are in admirable taste, and display an individual and artistic sense of fitness. The style is especially English, but also especially beautiful—there is no gaudiness, but neither is there dinginess. Unlike American hotels, little space is given to halls, bar-room, etc., but there is a cosey, homelike atmosphere, which is enhanced by the rich and substantial surroundings. Because the bar, with its glitter of glass and brass does not obtrude itself, let it not be supposed that wine is eschewed. On the contrary, the wine cellar is a feature of the house, and the stock of wines is valued at ten thousand pounds. As to the quality of the wines, and, by the way, that of the cuisine, they are unsurpassed in London. The sanitary arrangements bear the closest inspection. Some of the very old and small London hotels are not to be trusted in case of fire. Bailey’s Hotel is American-like in the particulars of fire-escapes and preparations for extinguishing a fire.

There is no attempt to lead people to believe that very low prices prevail or that Bailey’s is a “cheap house” in any sense of the term. On the contrary, you pay for the best, and you get it. You can live at Bailey’s Hotel on the European plan at about the same rate as at an American hotel of the first-class. Single rooms rent at about one dollar per day; double rooms from a dollar and a half; suites from four dollars and a half upward. These are the winter rates. They are a trifle higher during “the season.”

As at all English hotels, breakfast varies in price from fifty cents to seventy-five cents; luncheon from sixty cents; table d’hôte dinner, one dollar and twenty-five cents. Of course it is English, and there are some extras. It is a rule at every English hotel, except the Savoy in London, to make a separate charge for “attendance,” about thirty-five cents per day for each person, and Bailey’s conforms to the rule. No American likes it and it seems odd, but it is the custom in England, and when in Rome—-. Four dollars per week is the charge for each member of the canine race.

So much for Bailey’s Hotel proper, but the same proprietor, Mr. James Bailey, is also proprietor of the South Kensington Hotel, and, strange to say, the two hotels are distant from each other only five minutes’ walk, the South Kensington being in Queen’s Gate Terrace.

Being in the same locality, and having the same proprietor, the above remarks and particulars will apply, almost word for word, to both houses. Americans who prefer a quiet, aristocratic quarter, and especially those who have children, will make no mistake in applying for rooms at either hotel, each with its surrounding parks and gardens being particularly adapted to families. For the South Kensington, address Queen’s Gate Terrace, London, S. W.

IN JERMYN STREET.

A couple of small, quiet hotels in Jermyn street—a street which runs parallel with Piccadilly—may be found pleasant by families or by ladies without escort. They lack that bustle and noise to which some people object, and they are not “company hotels,” that is to say the head and front of each is always visible and approachable. Mr. Rawlings is proprietor of the Rawlings Hotel, and Mr. Morle with his family keeps and manages the house which bears his name.

While Jermyn street is narrow and its two hotels are quiet, plenty of life and gayety are to be had near at hand. Bond street and Regent street, two of the most fashionable shopping streets of London, are hard by, and the parks and palaces are within walking distance. Rawlings’ Hotel is famous for its cuisine, and a feature at Morle’s is that you can arrange to live on the American plan if you prefer, the charges being “inclusive,” as they call this plan there, and very moderate withal. Both these houses are homelike and comfortable, but they are not strictly fashionable.

Do not confuse Morle’s in Jermyn street with Morley’s in Trafalgar square. Morley’s has a magnificent outlook, with the noble Nelson Monument, Landseer’s lions and the playing fountains in front, and the dinner served at Morley’s is of the best quality, but the house is very old and rather worn, notwithstanding its white and attractive exterior.

THE NORFOLK’S MODERATE CHARGES.

If you want to get away from the Strand, Regent street and Piccadilly; if you are tired of the glare and blare of showy “American hotels,” and you prefer a very quiet, but healthy locality, jot down in your memorandum book, “Norfolk Hotel, Harrington Road, South Kensington, S.W.” The Norfolk was built in the year 1889, not by a company, but by Mr. A. Fatman, who himself keeps the house. It is not large, there is room only for eighty guests, but these eighty can be made very comfortable.

It is not like a hotel in certain respects. The rooms are not all of one size nor of one shape. The furniture does not look as if it were turned out by machinery in Grand Rapids and bought by the car-load. It has character and distinction, no suites of furniture being alike. There is nothing at the Norfolk to remind you, for instance, of a Salt Lake hotel, with its great halls and corridors, and its cold, bare walls. Good taste, as well as money, was used in building and furnishing the Norfolk, and the result is an attractive, cosy, home-like house.

After entering the Norfolk and admiring its pleasant surroundings, the tariff of charges will surprise you. Rooms are let as low as two-and-six (about sixty cents) a night, and, wonderful to relate for a London hotel, there is no charge for attendance. Fish breakfast, one-and-six (thirty-five cents); afternoon tea, sixpence; the same price for hot or cold bath.

THE FIRST AVENUE.

Don’t be prejudiced at the sound of “First Avenue Hotel.” It is in Holborn, a bustling, busy thoroughfare, but which has nothing in common with our First avenue in New York. The Gordon’s Hotel Company made a mistake in naming the house; they meant to say Fifth Avenue Hotel, for the First Avenue Hotel ranks probably with our Fifth Avenue Hotel in New York, only the First Avenue is not an old house. Holborn is one of London’s main arteries, a continuation, east, of Oxford street. The First Avenue is not very far from St. Paul’s and Newgate. The former being a noble cathedral, you will wish to get into; the latter being a prison, you will wish to keep out of, unless for a temporary visit.

OTHER HOTELS.

Another hotel in Holborn which may be commended is the Holborn Viaduct Hotel, near the city station of the London, Chatham and Dover Railway.

A pleasant house in High Holborn is the Inns of Court; neither fashionable nor grand, but select and comfortable; largely patronized by English people. Terms moderate. The main entrance is in Lincoln’s Inn Fields.

There are some famous old houses farther east, in the city, in such a bustling, busy quarter as St. Martin’s le Grand, near the General Post Office. The Queen’s Hotel in this neighborhood is best known.

Not far from this locality is the Manchester Hotel, in Aldersgate street. The proprietor of the Manchester Hotel especially solicits American patronage.

Those who desire to make frequent visits to the Houses of Parliament and that grand old pile, Westminster Abbey, will find the Westminster Palace Hotel convenient. It has an imposing front, in Victoria street, Westminster, almost opposite to the Abbey. Within five minutes’ walk of this hotel are the Home Office, St. James’s Park, the Horse Guards, Westminster Bridge, leading to the Surrey side of London, the United States Legation, and the Victoria Station of the London, Chatham and Dover Railway. The favorite and well kept Hotel Windsor, referred to elsewhere, is also in Victoria street, and still nearer to the Station and the Legation before mentioned.

Convenient to Hyde Park are the Alexandra Hotel, 16 to 21 St. George’s Place, Hyde Park Corner, and the Hyde Park Hotel. The latter is at the west end of Oxford street, in Hyde Park Place, near the Marble Arch.

Claridge’s Hotel used to be considered “the crack” house of London, and it is still patronized by the nobility, members of the diplomatic corps and by royalty. Nos. 49 to 55 Brook street, Grosvenor Square.

The Hotels connected with the railway stations are large structures, solidly built, fire-proof, as a general rule, and fitted up with every modern contrivance. They are desirable stopping places if you arrive late at night or if you intend to make an early start by rail, from the station, in the morning. They were erected for that purpose and they serve it admirably.

There are very many reputable hotels in London which are worthy of the best patronage, detailed reference to which, in this limited space, it would not be possible to make.

If none of the hotels described or alluded to in the foregoing list suits your plans and purposes, consult friends who have had experience in such matters. But don’t go, hap-hazard, into the smallest and oldest London hotels of whose very existence you never heard. Some of them are unpleasant, as residences; others are unhealthy. If your stay in London is short there is every reason why you should put up at the best houses. If you make a protracted visit and desire to economize, go to a boarding house or take lodgings. You will see signs in windows all over London: hire rooms and eat where your fancy or purse directs. London housekeepers are glad to “eke out” by letting rooms in the summer, and with a small tip now and then to the maid, life can be made very comfortable in London lodgings.

A FEW BOARDING HOUSES.

There are plenty of first-class boarding houses where Americans are welcome. Five or six come to mind—Mrs. Pool’s, No. 20 Bedford place; Mrs. Goodman’s, No. 13 Montague place; Mrs. Philp’s, No. 6 Montague place; Mrs. Wright’s, No. 15 Upper Woburn place, and Mr. Cooper’s, No. 1 Bedford place, Russell square. Mrs. Philp is an American whose husband keeps the Cockburn Hotel in Glasgow; and there is a Philp’s Cockburn Hotel in Edinburgh. Mrs. Philp’s drawing-room is beautiful, the dining-room cheerful, and there is a pretty garden which is backed by the walls of the British Museum, so Mrs. Philp is easily found.

Those who want to live economically but comfortably are recommended to the handsome private hotel or pension of Mrs. Marcus Pool, 20 Bedford place, Russell square. This is a pleasant and convenient quarter of the city—quite handy for the British Museum, not far from Charing Cross, and a shilling cab fare to railway stations and places of amusement. The house is furnished and appointed on a liberal scale; the drawing-room is large and cheerful; the bedrooms are luxuriously fitted up in the best taste, and they have a pleasant outlook. There is a Broadwood piano, also a new billiard room, with a table from the famous firm of Bennett. The house has a refined, home-like air, well representing the character of Mrs. Pool and her charming daughter. French and German are spoken. The terms at the Pool pension are from two dollars a day, which include breakfast, table d’hôte dinner and attendance—“everything inclusive.” Those are the terms “in the season;” the winter rates are lower. The cuisine is of the substantial English quality, but not heavy. At Pool’s pension you are sure to meet cultivated and select people. Those who have been Mrs. Pool’s guests appear perfectly satisfied; for they return again and again. Mr. Cooper keeps a good house and he caters to people accustomed to refined surroundings. He is a typical Londoner of the middle class—honest, blunt and out-spoken. Mrs. Lucy H. Hooper, wife of the American Vice-Consul in Paris, recommends No. 1 Bedford place. Mrs. Hooper makes it her stopping place when she is in London.

“American Family Home.”—An establishment which meets with especial favor among fastidious tourists is Demeter House, 13 Montague place, Russell square, W. C. The location is select, within easy access of the centres of shopping and amusement. The house is kept by Mrs. A. Goodman, who aims to maintain a house replete with the comforts and freedom of a refined home and the advantages of a hotel, but with less expense. The house is spacious and well furnished, the table excellent and carefully provided. Many leading American families make this their home during their annual visits to London.

Put down “No. 15 Upper Woburn place, Tavistock square,” and note that it is not far from Euston station. It is a quiet street. The house is kept by an English woman of refinement, Mrs. Wright and her maiden daughters, and it may be commended as a pleasant Christian home, where grace is said before meals.

Of these boarding houses, like all the hotels mentioned in this article, the writer speaks from his own knowledge and experience. But don’t count on getting accommodation in London hotels in the season, without making previous arrangements or giving notice in advance of your arrival, or you may be disappointed.

WHERE TO LUNCH IN LONDON,
AND WHERE NOT TO LUNCH.