Westminster.

“How I long to share with you dear people the delights of London! On paper it is impossible. I start to write and find that one place, one sight, one building can lead me on to hundreds of words which are yet inadequate. How then can I convey something of the greatest city in the world. It is as if, among the Crown jewels, I strove to describe one facet on the smallest diamond. But if such description can induce you to make all possible efforts page 58 to come here yourselves, that is all I can hope to do.

“Come and stroll with me through the parks. We will leave St. James's Park, and, turning our backs on Trafalgar Square and the Nelson column, walk down Whitehall. We look curiously at the statute of Earl Haig and at the much-criticised raised front hoof of his steed. We see the Cenotaph, and try to imagine the crowds on Armistice Day. The brass helmets and the beautiful horses of the two sentries at the Horse Guards attract our eye. If it is II a.m., we will linger and watch the changing of the Guard. (Another day, if the Royal Family is in residence, we will go to watch the changing of the ‘guard at Buckingham Palace. If they are away, we must walk along to St. James's.) Of course, we step into the quietness of Downing Street, and gaze at the plain facade of No. 10. (Perhaps a policeman is chatting with a van-driver across the way.) Further down Whitehall on the left we pass the United Services Museum, housed in the former Banqueting Hall of Whitehall Palace, that very hall from which Charles I stepped to his death on the scaffold. Later we must go in and study the beautiful hall designed by Inezo Jones, and, by the aid of a special mirror, the nine glorious Rubens paintings on the ceiling.

“At the corner of Bridge Street we stand and gaze. Opposite stand Big Ben and the Houses of Parliament, much criticised for their mixed style of architecture, but to me giving a satisfying effect (especially from the river) of solidity, combined with serenity and grace, the result of the delicate stone work of the towers and Gothic window arches.

“From our corner we see St. Margaret's, since 1916 the parish church of the Dominions beyond the seas. Perhaps a striped awning to its door foreshadows a wedding this afternoon. Adjacent to St. Margaret's is the grey pile of Westminster Abbey. I had not known my heart could feel such reverence as when I first trod that floor whose slabs commemorate the great men, the flower and spiritual glory of our race. Don't pay a hurried visit to the Abbey, and don't go there the first time with a party and guides. Creep inside its grey walls at an uncrowded hour and move quietly about that holy place—even if God moves you not, the aspirations of men, the sadness and glory of human hope will move your heart with tears and pride.

“Turn away now up Bridge Street to the left. We may stand on Westminster Bridge, gazing back at the Houses of Parliament, or studying the modern bulk of County Hall just across the bridge, or the huge pile of Shell-Mex House down the river in the distance. The tugs, with their dipping funnels as they pass under the bridge arches, and the black barges strung behind them, are part of the Thames scenery.

“But if the day be misty, shot with sun, come with me along the Embankment. Now look back at Westminster Bridge. To me, no bridge could be more beautiful. See how she seems to float over the water, her huge length fairy-like with that slight curve and the grace of her shadowed arches. It is here, at Westminster, that I feel I am really in London.”