Nuswell Hill
London N

My dear Everyone at Home

It is rather a surprise to find myself at the above address as we had to get out on pass on 2 hours notice. 700 of us came away and scattered to all parts of Britain yesterday afternoon. I had intended to go to Edinburgh this a.m but am taking tonight instead. I took a train to Picadilly this a.m at 10:15 and set about to find out by myself what could be seen.

First of all I went to Charing Cross Stn (sounds like Sherlock Holmes eh?) and turned down the Strand. (words crossed out). I went close to St. Paul’s Cathedral on my way along Fleet Street without knowing it. Taking a bus (there are no street cars in that city (of Westminster). I returned to Charing X and started down Whitehall, saw the spot where Charles (lst or 2nd?) was beheaded (not the spot on his [?]) and went on to the Abbey a few hundred yards further on. I took a good look at Big Ben, the Parliament Bldgs, and the Abbey and then went back to a restaurant (1 p.m). After dinner I turned again to the Abbey and went inside.

I can not describe my feelings in that old building nor can I begin to tell you what it looks like. I went in at the side entrance and walked through a narrow auditorium extending clear across the Abbey. On either side of this area large statues and memorials to great men. The ones I noted the most were the huge ones to Wm. Pitt, Wm Gladstone, Disraeli, and the Cannings. At the far end is the Poet’s Corner where I saw the memorials to, and the graves of some of, the great poets. There is a a strange feeling comes over one when in such a place which is very hard to describe. It is a long time since I wished first that I could have a pick at the Poet’s Corner and today I got my wish. The ends of this auditorium form sort of wings out from the Abbey so having explored everything we turned to the left and went through a small part set apart entirely for tombs.

The tombs of many great and near great people the only one of whom I now remember is Ed the Confessor. Many tombs are sand bagged and others have been removed for fear of the Zepps. There we entered Henry VII{?} Chapel saw his tomb and admired the wonderfully worked architecture. I wondered if the builders ever dreamed that their work should last so long.

1916.05.11

The Ceiling of this chapel is in itself a great sight and I wondered for a long time how such work could be put up so high and so well that it would reain there hundreds of years.

After seeing about and noting the objects of interest we the chapel (including the seats of the G.C.B’s and their Coats of arms) we went back down the left side of the Abbey. Exploring about a bit, we found the Chair but the precious stone was gone – another result of Zepp’s. Jutting off from the sides of the main body here and there are small chapels very small and unconspicuous beside that of H VII. They are marked according to the King who built them.

We then turned our attention toward the end of the Abbey on which you usually see in pictures the two towers. In the floor of the fairly large auditorium are the gravestones to many great men. The only one I took especial notice was David Livingstone’s.

During our whole stay in the Abbey – some 2 ½ hours, we sat through a service of nearly an hour and the rest of the time the building was filled with music from the organ.

Leaving many points of interest behind we (an Imperial Army Private a stranger in London) crossed to Westminster Hall and the House of Lords. Parliament was in session so we couldn’t go all through as we wanted but we spent an hour or more admiring the wall paintings in the lobbies, the architecture, and laughing in our sleeves at the wigs of the clawssy people about. Westminster Hall itself, the scene of Warren Hasting’s trial, is undergoing repair, and is at present out of use. They are repairing the old roof to prevent its falling in through age.

5 O’clock was near when I finished my wanderings so I took the underground tube 2[?] and returned to Highgate where I took a bus and landed at Leaside Ave about 6 p.m.

Tea over at 7:30 and the first part of this letter written we listened to Miss Mills on the piano until about 10 pm where I again started my wanderings alone. Walking to Cranley Gardens station I took the suburban into Finsbury Park and changed to the tube (underground) travelling by it to Kings Cross Station where I boarded the Scotland train bound for Edinburgh.

We pulled into Waverley Stn about 8:40 a.m. Wednesday and I started to the Vic League Club to find some 73rd men. Walking down Princes Street I began to realize why people had told me that there was only one street in the city. They might just as well have said that there was only one street in G. Britain and that one would be Princes. On the left as you go down toward the Caledonia hotel there is a beautiful park valley kept clean, with numerous flower beds, gravel walks, and immense statues. One of these is the memorial to Sir. W.S. and it far surpassed any idea I had ever formed of it. In fact it is the finest memorial I have seen so far. The park throughout is a model one for neatness and beauty. It extends about half a mile or more along the street and also about 400 yards wide.

One point of interest in the park is the floral clock with dial composed altogether of flowers and hands also covered with narrow flowerbeds. When in working order it keeps correct time but I think they stopped it on a/c of the war.

As it looks, from the bottom of the valley there rise a tremendous stone mound with two sides almost vertical to a great heighth (perhaps 350’) and on this immanence is situated nothing less than the stately Castle of Edinburgh – a suitable building for such a location.

Well, to continue with my day in Scotland! I walked along Prince’s Street and who should the first soldier be but Web. We went to the League and I washed up and left my coat and belongings. Washed up and shaved we started on a tour of exploration and by good luck we ran across a one armed Royal Scot in khaki. He came along with us and offered to show us about and with a guide we felt sure of seeing everything worth while. Our first visit was the Edinburgh Museum where we spent 3 hours interested in things old and new. My interest was pretty well centered for a time on the mechanical gallery where all sorts of engines were shown. One only has to press a button at each one of these engines an electric motor drives the engine slowly showing all the valve actions. Another center of interest was one of the first railroad engines – a platform on 6 wheels on which was mounted at the front, a large wooden barrel with a tube connecting it to the wooden boiler some ten feet back. We were certainly surprised to look at such a curiosity.

Leaving the Museum we had lunch and beat it for Hollyrood Palace (take a look at the post cards). Through with Hollyrood we turned to Arthur’s seat, and then back to Carlton Hill on which is situated Nelson’s Monument (the chief attraction for us). The Pride and Fall of Edinburgh and some other aircraft guns and search lights of which I should not write. N’s monument is a tall shaft about 100’ high inside of which a circular staircase leads to the top. We went up and scratched our names on the big ball on the top. I had one exposure only in my camera in the film which I start a few miles east of Montreal. It is against the law to take photos around Ed. But I took a chance and got away with it. We then roamed about a bit and finally settled ourselves down in a picture show. I was thoroughly tired for with a long day of walking on Tuesday. No sleep to speak of Tues night and walking all day Wed. I had good reason to be so. After the picture show we had a brunch of ham and eggs and went to another show.

10:20 p.m. saw me on a very crowded train headed for London and I arrived King’s Cross Stn 7:10 this a.m. and 20 Leaside at 8. Since then I have had breakfast, cleaned up. Rene (Ted’s girl) has been to see me and I have read and written a little.

So two days and a half have been spent out of My 6. This afternoon I shall visit Mr Fuller, Mrs David Fraser, and the Mansons (Harold’s cousin). By that time I shall be ready for a sleep.

Sunday a.m. 1 o’clock

At the time of leaving off I turned in the direction of Dulwich SE. but after whiling away two hrs at Glengarry road I returned home as Mr Fuller was unavoidably detained. That was Thursday.

Friday Morning I went down to the Cattle Market where a [?] who knew the Market kindly offered my his company for an hour or so. At the end of that hour I quite agreed that the London Cattle Mkt was the largest in the world. I was greatly surprised to see the size of the Swift & Co’s hold on the trade there.

Then having a few minutes to spare he took me through St. Bartholomew’s Church close by. Still a place of worship, it is very old but a new page was added to its history on Friday when I very graciously loaned my signature to their list of visitors and if you visit St B’s in years to come you will see on its list “Malcolm MacDonell 73rd Royal Canadian Highns”. You will also see it all over the top of the Nelson Mon’m’t in Edinburgh. My friend there left me with a good start to St. Paul’s Cathedral, the burial ground ff of Lord Roberts and many other men of note. The Abbey is not as good. Many suppose the burial ground for the greatest men but rather, so far as I can see is more for kings. The Tower of London is considered as classy a home for bones as the Abbey. St. Paul’s must be too. There I had to look about and find things out for myself. Perhaps the most interesting of the mon’m’ts was that to Wellington – a magnificent memorial.

This cathedral is much different from the Abbey in nearly every way, the most notable being the architecture. Very beautiful engravings, a few oil paintings and more modern monuments are all about but they are not nearly so crowded for space. I should also have mentioned the memorials to the Crimean war heros and sailors who were killed in “The glorious Past”. There too is the statue to Gen Gordon and his men butchered at Khartoum. Gen G’s body would have been interred here if K. of K. had been able to find it but they are now certain that it was cut up and thrown to the birds. I remarked to a keep that they had no word of Sir Christopher Wren the architect of the cathedral, half suspecting the answer. He told me that Wren left his monument designed by himself in the building itself and they wished to let people hold St Paul’s as the special monument to his memory. I did not get a chance to go into the Crypt. Wandering about the cathedral I spent 1 ½ hours exploring for myself and finally came on an oil painting which I think must be the original one accompanied by the quotation “ Behold I stand at the door and knock”. It is a long time since I saw that same picture on a S.S. card.

I hope you remember it. Possibly you remember as I do that St. Paul’s was lighted up at the expense of J. Purpont Morgan with Electric light.

The dome and whispering gallery in there are decidedly a wonder to me but I cannot begin to describe them. Some of you I hope shall see it some day.

I had lunch in town and wandered down to the Tower of London. I had expected to see a tower, as we think of the tower of a big building but was very agreeably disappointed, for instead of that I found a huge fort, of which I am enclosing some post cards. They tell the story of the tower themselves. I went right through it and saw practically everything with the exception of the Crown jewels. I would not mind learning Mediaeval history now after seeing so much belong to the last few centuries – 1000 AD on.

My next point was again Glengarry Road. There was I was to meet Mr Fuller at 8:30 p.m. and did so on the minute. But my meeting him should have been left for another letter because of the different character of local that it was. I shall write directly to Dad to tell him. My stay had to end at 9:30 p.m. because of the distance from Muswell Hill. I took a train to “Elephant and Castle”, from there a tube to Highgate and a bus to Leaside Avenue – a journey of 75 minutes.

Sunday again 4:30 p.m.

On my arrival back in Muswell Hill I found that MacCammon had been up to dinner and had left word to phone him Saturday a.m.

Saturday morning broke or rather dissolved in rain as usual but clear a bit towards 9:30 when Mr Mills took me for a stroll about Alexandra Palace. It is a very beautiful park and I am sorry that we couldn’t go through it. The palace itself is magnificent.

At 12 noon I had to start for Kingsway (near Charing X) to meet Miss Mills. I found her quite easily and we walked down the embankment taking in the sights for an hour after lunch – by that time it was 2 p.m. Theatres were open so we thought time in a show would be well spent and dropped into the London Opera.

It was built to be a much classier place than it really is and proved a failure. The beauty still remains though in the building itself and they say it is the most beautiful play house in Britain. “The Pearl Girl” was playing and we both enjoyed it. We had to hurry home for we expected to be out earlier in order to prepare for the musical evening for MacCammon and I.

Monday Night. Bramshott

Arriving home 7 p.m. we found several young people awaiting us so we pitched right in for the good time and a good time it was for the 5 girls that were there were very pretty, musical and knew how to pitch and make things lively. Perhaps I will tell you more about them later but this Ms is becoming so big that I am afraid of having to go broke to pay postage.

After twelve we were safe again on our little cots. MacCammon stayed with me instead of going back to his hotel as he intended. But we were confronted with the problem of how to get his luggage up to Leaside and get back to Church by 11. We finally decided on rising early and beating down to the strand where his hotel was and having breakfast at “Ye Old Cheshire Cheese” (the favorite restaurant of Dickens and Samuel Johnston) but the place was closed and we had our meal at the London Hotel.

We got back to Leaside to find Mr. M [T}Winnie had gone to church. The only thing left for us was to go by ourselves. We did so and found Mr Mills seat. Communion service was held after the regular service so we were in luck to come up this Sunday. We were not very late (5 mins or so). After the service we went for a stroll with The Miss MacKenzies (who we met Sat p.m) and Winnie.

Mac looked after himself (and someone else too) in the aft and Winnie and I took about a 4 mile walk through two or three parks adjacent each other.

After tea the best of the week came when Winnie began to play hyms and psalms. What do you think the first one was. Well it was PS 96 and the next one Hymn 261 (For all the Saints) But the end of our big week sort of came as a bump when we had to say goodbye to the friends who were so good to us and take the bus to Highgate tube and wend our way to Waterloo Station only a minute before our train pulled out. Arriving in Liphook the two miles to Bramshott was quickly covered but it seemed long enough for we knew well that on the table was a huge stack of letters and so there was a sort of consolation in our blues after such a week of big time- quite the biggest I ever had and I would willingly forego the pleasure of the trip to spend a week in Lancashir.

I have omitted a good bit of my travel story because of my enthusiasm over the more important things. One of the places I visited on Tuesday was St. James Park in which are the statue of Queen Victoria and Buckingham Palace. I won’t even try to describe them.

Now I must leave off. I remain.

Your loving son and brother

Mac