August 7th.--Yesterday we took the rail for London, it being a fine,
sunny day, though not so very warm as many of the preceding days have
been. . . . . We went along Piccadilly as far as the Egyptian Hall. It
is quite remarkable how comparatively quiet the town has become, now that
the season is over. One can see the difference in all the region west of
Temple Bar; and, indeed, either the hot weather or some other cause seems
to have operated in assuaging the turmoil in the city itself. I never
saw London Bridge so little thronged as yesterday. At the Egyptian Hall,
or in the same edifice, there is a gallery of pictures, the property of
Lord Ward, who allows the public to see them, five days of the week,
without any trouble or restriction,--a great kindness on his Lordship's
part, it must be owned. It is a very valuable collection, I presume,
containing specimens of many famous old masters; some of the early and
hard pictures by Raphael and his master and fellow-pupils,--very curious,
and nowise beautiful; a perfect, sunny glimpse of Venice, by Canaletto;
and saints, and Scriptural, allegorical, and mythological people, by
Titian, Guido, Correggio, and many more names than I can remember.
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