I seemed to view a whole world at once, rich and
beautiful beyond conception. At that moment what more could I have
wished for?
And the venerable castle, that royal edifice which, in every part of
it, has strong traces of antiquity, smiles through its green trees,
like the serene countenance of some hoary sage, who, by the vigour
of a happy constitution, still retains many of the charms of youth.
Nothing inspired me with more veneration and awe than the fine old
building St. George's Church, which, as you come down from the
castle, is on your right. At the sight of it past centuries seemed
to revive in my imagination.
But I will see no more of those sights which are shown you by one of
those venal praters, who ten times a day, parrot-wise, repeat over
the same dull lesson they have got by heart. The surly fellow, who
for a shilling conducted me round the church, had nearly, with his
chattering, destroyed the finest impressions. Henry VIII., Charles
I., and Edward IV. are buried here. After all, this church, both
within and without, has a most melancholy and dismal appearance.
They were building at what is called the queen's palace, and
prodigious quantities of materials are provided for that purpose.
