It was a beautifully
bright day, such as we have in wonderful succession this month. The
Crystal Palace gleamed in the sunshine; but I do not think a very
impressive edifice can be built of glass,--light and airy, to be sure,
but still it will be no other than an overgrown conservatory. It is
unlike anything else in England; uncongenial with the English character,
without privacy, destitute of mass, weight, and shadow, unsusceptible of
ivy, lichens, or any mellowness from age.
The train of carriages stops within the domain of the palace, where there
is a long ascending corridor up into the edifice. There was a very
pleasant odor of heliotrope diffused through the air; and, indeed, the
whole atmosphere of the Crystal Palace is sweet with various
flower-scents, and mild and balmy, though sufficiently fresh and cool.
It would be a delightful climate for invalids to spend the winter in; and
if all England could be roofed over with glass, it would be a great
improvement on its present condition.
The first thing we did, before fairly getting into the palace, was to sit
down in a large ante-hall, and get some bread and butter and a pint of
Bass's pale ale, together with a cup of coffee for S-----. This was the
best refreshment we could find at that spot; but farther within we found
abundance of refreshment-rooms, and John Bull and his wife and family at
fifty little round tables, busily engaged with cold fowl, cold beef, ham,
tongue, and bottles of ale and stout, and half-pint decanters of sherry.
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