In the course of time we came to anchor in the stream; skiffs from the shore pulled alongside, and after some little quarrelling, we were safely deposited in one, with a party who desired to be landed at the Tower Stairs.  The dark walls frowned above us as we mounted from the water and passed into an open square on the outside of the moat.  The laborers were about commencing work, the fashionable day having just closed, but there was still noise and bustle enough in the streets, particularly when we reached Whitechapel, part of the great thoroughfare, extending through the heart of London to Westminster Abbey and the Parliament buildings.  Further on, through Leadenhall street and Fleet street—­what a world!  Here come the ever-thronging, ever-rolling waves of life, pressing and whirling on in their tumultuous career.  Here day and night pours the stream of human beings, seeming amid the roar and din and clatter of the passing vehicles, like the tide of some great combat.  How lonely it makes one to stand still and feel that of all the mighty throng which divides itself around him, not a being knows or cares for him!  What knows he too of the thousands who pass him by?  How many who bear the impress of godlike virtue, or hide beneath a goodly countenance a heart black with crime?  How many fiery spirits, all glowing with hope for the yet unclouded future, or brooding over a darkened and desolate past in the agony of despair?  There is a sublimity in this human Niagara that makes one look on his own race with something of awe.

We walked down the Thames, through the narrow streets of Wapping, Over the mouth of the Tunnel is a large circular building, with a dome to light the entrance below.  Paying the fee of a penny, we descended by a winding staircase to the bottom, which is seventy-three feet below the surface.  The carriage-way, still unfinished, will extend further into the city.  From the bottom the view of the two arches of the Tunnel, brilliantly lighted with gas, is very fine; it has a much less heavy and gloomy appearance than I expected.  As we walked along under the bed of the river, two or three girls at one end began playing on the French horn and bugle, and the echoes, when not too deep to confuse the melody, were remarkably beautiful.  Between the arches of the division separating the two passages, are shops, occupied by venders of fancy articles, views of the Tunnel, engravings, &c.  In the middle is a small printing press, where, a sheet containing a description of the whole work is printed for those who desire it.  As I was no stranger to this art, I requested the boy to let me print one myself, but he had such a bad roller I did not succeed in getting a good impression.  The air within is somewhat damp, but fresh and agreeably cool, and one can scarcely realize in walking along the light passage, that a river is rolling above his head.  The immense solidity and compactness of the structure precludes the danger of accident, each of the sides being arched outwards, so that the heaviest pressure only strengthens the whole.  It will long remain a noble monument of human daring and ingenuity.