A ROUND - THE - WORLD TRIP,

Otago Witness, Issue 2294, 17 February 1898, Page 54

A ROUND - THE - WORLD TRIP,

No. XVI.

LONDON — THE EUSTON HOTELNOISES OF THE NIGHT — THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY — THE CITY TRAFFIC— OLD DUNEDINITES— CROSBY HALL. The close proximity of the Euston Hotel to the busy and noisy station of ihe same name makes the hotel more a temporary abiding place for travellers than a residence for any length of time. The noises of the street continue until long after midnight. Cabs rattle through the archway of the hotel leading from the busy city to the stations at intervals, tue unnecessarily loud talking of belated wayfarers is frequent, end after midnight I hear the singing and hilarious noise of a party of men and women, youths and girls, who have either arrived or are about to take their departure by some late train. These and the thoughts and inflections which are natiu-a.l on finding myself for the first time in the great city of the Empire in one of whose remotest possessions I have lived since childhood make sleep impossible of accomplishment. But gradually the noises of the night are stilled, and, no longer to the accompaniment of tho plash of vraves 3 the throbbing of engines, and the melancholy sounding of the fog horn, I drop into a sound sleep.

London is actively astir when I awake, and the rattle of cabs and J buses and other vehicles has commenced in earnest. I have an early breakfast, a hasty glance through The Times in the comfortable writing room, and prepare for a long day in the city. I find that my quickest way to reach those portions of fcha city to whioh my busineas first takes me will be by the underground railway. The nearest station is Gower street;, and, following the 'buse3 on the Euston road which are tafcisg their loads of yonng cifcy clerks and business men to their office*, a few minutes' walk brings me to Gower street station. The passenger has the choice of first, eecond, or third class. If he doss not specify which class he wishes to travel by he is given a third-class ticket as a matter of coarse. I mentioned nothing about class, aud got my third-class ticket for Moorgate street, which is the most central station for the city, and but a few minutes' walk from the Bank of England. I think the fare was l£d. Down a flight of stepa the underground platform is reached. There are numbers of people waiting for the iucoming train, which dashes up to the platform, and comes fco a quick standstill smidat the opening of caixiage doors and the quick exit of those who have reached their destination. Pa«sengers rapidly fill up the carriages, and before there is time to look round doors are closed in quick succession by the attendant porter, and the train is off on its unceasing journey round the city ; for the railway is a circular one, forming a complete belt round the inner part of the city, and known as the "inner circle." The roadway is a continuation of tunnels under the houses and streets, occasionally emerging into daylight in cuttings with high walls. Needless to say fche atmosphere is permeated with the smoke from the engines, aud local readers will realise the unpleasant results when I compare the experience to that of the time spent in the Caversh&m or the Deborah Bay tunnel. Aud yet it is difncult to see how the London passenger traffic couldbe overtaken without the " Underground," as if; is familiarly called. This will be quite understood when it is remembered that it carries 110,000,000 passengers annually, or aboub 300,000 per day. In connection with the Underground are the Metropolitan District railways, which serve a number of the outlying populations.

There is at present in course of construction a direct underground line from the West End to the Mansion House. This is to have a tot.al length of six and a-half mile 1 ?, and will consist of two parallel tunnels, with 14 stations. This great work is to cost a vast Bum of money, and is now being actively prosecuted, tunnelling going on under Oxford street, Holbern, Chfcapside, Oid Broad street-, &o. There is little to indicate to the Londoner what is going on underneath him as he passes along the city streets, and the only evidence of the work I saw was a pile of esrth aud stones near the Mansion House. This is, however, carted away almost as rapidly as it is deposited. At present the great passenger traffic from the Bank, the Mansion House, and all the intensely busy streets in that quarter of the city, to Fleet street, the Strand, Trafalgar square, and further westwo-rd is by omnibus. The opening o$ the Underground Electric should do something to relieve the congestion which the present crush of omnibuses and cabs causes.

From Gower street to Moorgate street takes but a short while to traverse, there being only three intervening stations — King's Cross, Farringdon street, and Aldersgate street, — and I am not sorry to get into the fresh air again. " Baedeker's Handbook " has told me that five minutes' walk should bring me to the Bank (and here let me express my thanks to the compiler of that invaluable publication. Baedeker ia really indispensable to any visitor to London who wants to find his way about the city and to be placed in possession of necessary information as fco places and scenes he ought to visit. The little book with its maps and plans is well worth its moderate cost, and I cordially acknowledge its usefulness during my visit and for the great assistance it now is to me in freshening nay recollection of places I visited and enabling me to give my readers information which memory has failed to store. Any quotation I may make from Baedeker will appear in inverted commas). In the crowded streets, and with the irresistible inclination of the stranger to look into shop windows and study his new surroundings, fche five minutes from MoorgaSe street to the Bank has extended into half au hour, and I have only reached my objective point after more than one inquiry from that great friend of the stranger the London policeman.

" The space enclosed by the Mansion House, the Bank, and the Exchange ia the centre from which radiate the most important streets of the city. It is al«o the chief point of convergence of the London omnibus tr&ffie, which during business hour 3is enormous." I begin to realise what these words of Baedeker mean. No one used to the quiet traffic of a comparatively small colonial town can form an adequate conception of what he. has to encounter when he attempts to cross the busiest of the London streets. To thread with safety the intricate maze of hansoms aud four-wheeled cabs and coachts and omnibuses which in vast numbers are passing me in continuous streams in both directions seems to me as I stand on the footpath — an obstacle in the way of the hurrying city men, whose familiarity with the scene enables them to act with confidence — almost an impossibility. I am not altogether alone in my hesitancy, however. There are one or two others who do not care about risking their limbs in this exceptionally busy and dangerous spot. It is true there is a haven of refuge in the centre of the street— a concreted space, per-

haps 20ft or 30ft in length by about half the width, protected with pillars atthe sides and ends, into which the adventurous pedestrian makes a dssh when he ha 3 gob half-way and before venturing to dodge through the vehicles on its farther side. But although fairly active I have not yet attained sufficient confidence to attempt the passage. Oar doubts are solved by one of the policemen in charge of the streets in the ! locality. He raises his band, and as if by | magic every vehicle on his right comes to a dead stop, a clear passage way ia available, those who are waiting on the footpaths quickly make their way across, and with a sign to the drivers the long, string of vehicles again starts into roo¥<3tnenk The regulation of the street traffic by the London police has evoked the admiration of visitors from all parts of the world ; and no leas admirable ia the policeman's unfailing courtesy and attention to strangers. It is true that attention to the traffic and answering the inquiries of strangers forms in congested spots the sola duties of certain members of the force, and that they are only doing their duty in pleasantly answering the scores of questions that are put to them daily. Yet they might easily be pardoned were they to be a little less complaisant under the requests for the selfsame information which they have to answer many times throughout the day. I never found them anything but courteous, obliging, and willing to direct me when I have experienced a difficulty in finding any particular place I was looking for, and I shall always have a grateful remembrance of their rearly assistance. My business takes me to various busy localities — Cheapside, Lombard street, Ludgate circus, FJeet street, the Strand, Trafalgar square, &c. Everywhere the same moving streams of humanity, the same crowds of vehicles. T&ke an omnibus at the Bank, and keep your position on the top until you reach Trafalgar square, and your feeling is almost one o? bewilderment at the interminable throDgs. Rtpeat the process at night. The same spectacle presents itself in many of the thoroughfares, with tha additional attraction of brilliantly-lighted shops and eating houses and hotels, the electric light playing a prominent part in the illuminations on every side. And yet when midnight arrives all thtse tens of thousands of people have disappeared as if by magic. London in at rest for a few hours, and her streets arc almost as deaerted as if she wore a city of the dead. I have walked after midnight from west to east of the cifcy, and down the Eusfcon road to my hotel, and beyond an occasional policeman Lavs nob met half*a-dozen people in the whole length of the streets I traversed. There is * strange fascination ia a walk of that sort. Possibly it Is not too safe a proceeding, and yet I never saw anything to cause me the least uneasiness. But I am converting the day into night. I have digressed from the experiences of. my first day in tho city, and am generalising. Midday having arrived aud the Euston Hotel being too far away for Imieh, I euler one of the luncheon and tea rooms with which the city abounds. It is one of the establishments of the Aerated Bread Company, an organisation which has planted its shops and lunch-eon rooms in almost every part of London. They are very much akin to the tea and lurcheon rooms which are familiar to colonists in their own towns. For sixpence a pot of lea aud light eatables are procurable, and those who want something more f übataDtial can get it in the shape of pies or sandwiches. Refreshment rooms of a similar character abound everywhere, and they all seemed to be largely patronised. There are, of course, numbers of luncheon rooms where hot meals are provided, tho charge varying according to the status. of the establishment. Many of these have very valuable co«n«c- ! tions, and in rome of them the luncheon and i dinner menus offer a varied choice, the charge j generally running up to about 5s a meal. j Among msny good restaurants are those of Spiurs and Pond in various parts of the city ; Simpson's dining rooms, in the busiest part of the Sfcraud ; the restaurants attached to the Hotel Cecil and the Savoy, two high-class establishments ; Grand Cafe Royal, Regent j street (French diuner, sa), the Burlington j (dinners at ss, 7s 6d, and 10a 6d) ; The Cock, | Fleet street, with the fit* ings of tbe famous old j Cock Tavern ; the Old Cheshire Chesse, Wine I Office Court, Fleet street (where is preserved j Dr Johnson's chair), the London Tavern, I formerly the King's Head, Fenchurch street j (•where Qneen .Elizabeth took her first meal after her liberation from the Tower) ; and many others of more or less interest to the visitor. \ 16 is customary to give the waiters and waitresses a gr&tuity, generally at the rate of Id for every shilling of the bill. In Bishopsgate street Within, near Threadneedle street;, is " Crosby Hall, built in 1466 by Alderman Sir John Crosby, and once occupied by the notorious Deke of Gloucester, afterwards Richard 111. The building subsequently belonged to Sir Thomas More, and it is mentioned by Shakespeare in his • Richard lII.' For a long time it was used for the reception of ambassadors, and was considered the finest house in London. During the Protectorate ifc was a prison. It ha 3 been lately restored, and serves as a restaurant, very largely patronised by business and professional men. Crosby Hall deserves a visit as being one of the few existing relics of the domestic architeclure of me^isßval London, and the only one in the Gothic style. The present street front and many parts of the interior do not belong to the ancient structure. The banqueting hall has a fine oaken roof." I had some very enjoyable lunches in the city with genial ex-residents of Duuedin, notably one or two special little gatherings at Crosby Hall, whose old historical associations I have referred to above ; and at an excellent little cafe near Soho, where tempting French cookery with a bottle of genuine light wine from sunny France, and a reunion of four old Dunedinitea —Mr Thomas Mackenzie, He Bulau, Me Stanley Edwards, and the writer — resulted in a very pleasant hour being passed. From the boullibasse to the conclusion of the meal there was an uninterrupted flow of high spirits and talk about Dunedin people and a relation of Dunedin news, until the garqon in attendance no doubt wondered when the quartet of guests at the small table were going to finish and make room for a fresh relay. Ib is wonderful how the fortuitous meeting of old colonists 14,000 miles away from the spot in which they had known each other in years gone by stirs up the spirit of friendship ! It is difficult to part when such meet- j ings take place, for it is - realised that it is probable the meeting together of all of the party will be the last. With mutual expressions of goodwill we part and go our separate ways, I to Trafalgar square to ' get a Strand 'bus bound eastward. The voluble conductors look out sharply for passengers with their cry of " Strend, Chawncery Line, Benk, " — for such is the London 'bus conductor's rendering of " Strand, Chancery Lane, Bank " — and I climb to the top and pay my fare to the "Benk," in the neighbourhood of which I have an appointment. We get through to Fleet street, and then have to make a detour to the Embankment, for Fleet street i 8 being " lifted," and the traffic is

stopped. In point of fact they are taking* up the wooden blocks with which the street i<" paved, and the operation is being watched by interested crowds.