Under London Bridge there is a station for
steamers running to Greenwich and Woolwich. We got on board one of
these, not very well knowing, nor much caring, whither it might take us,
and steamed down the river, which is bordered with the shabbiest,
blackest, ugliest, meanest buildings: it is the back side of the town;
and, in truth, the muddy tide of the Thames deserves to see no better.
There was a great deal of shipping in the river, and many steamers, and
it was much more crowded than the Mersey, where all the ships go into
docks; but the vessels were not so fine. By and by we reached Greenwich,
and went ashore there, proceeding up from the quay, past beer-shops and
eating-houses in great numbers and variety. Greenwich Hospital is here a
very prominent object, and after passing along its extensive front,
facing towards the river, we entered one of the principal gates, as we
found ourselves free to do.
We now left the hospital, and steamed back to London Bridge, whence we
went up into the city, and, to finish the labors of the day, ascended the
Monument. This seems to be still a favorite adventure with the cockneys;
for we heard one woman, who went up with us, saying that she had been
thinking of going up all her life, and another said that she had gone up
thirty years ago. There is an iron railing, or rather a cage, round the
top, through which it would be impossible for people to force their way,
in order to precipitate themselves, as six persons have heretofore done.
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