This spring had a reputation as early as 1480. It discharges about forty gallons per minute, and was first brought into notice by sailors, who found it useful for scorbutic disorders. In 1680 it became famous, and a wealthy merchant rendered it so by a dream. He was afflicted with diabetes, and dreamed that he was cured by drinking the water of this spring. He resorted to the imagined remedy, and soon recovered. Its fame now spread, and, in 1690, the corporation of Bristol took charge of the spring. We found the water, fresh from the spring, at the temperature of Fahrenheit 76°. It contains free carbonic acid gas. Its use is seen chiefly in cases of pulmonary consumption. I suppose it has wrought wonders in threatening cases. It is the place for an _invalid_ who _begins to fear_, but it is not possible to "create a soul under the ribs of death." Unhappily, people in sickness too seldom repair to such aid as may here be found till the last chances of recovery are exhausted. I have never seen a spot where I thought the fragile and delicate in constitution might pass a winter, sheltered from every storm, more securely than in this place. Tie houses for accommodation are without end, both at the Hot Wells and at Clifton. This last place is on the high ground, ascending up to the summit of the rocks, where you enter on a noble campus known as Durdham Down. This extends for some three or four miles, and is skirted by charming villages, which render the environs of Bristol so far-famed for beauty.
I never wished to have your company more than when we all ascended the height of St. Vincent's Rocks. The elevation at which we stood was about three hundred and fifty feet above the winding river which, it is thought, by some sudden convulsion of nature, turned from the moors _of_ Somersetshire, its old passage to the sea, and forced an abrupt one between the rocks and the woods; and the corresponding dip of the strata, the cavities on one side, and projections on the other, make the supposition very plausible. A suspension bridge over this awful chasm is in progress.
The celebrated pulpit orator, Robert Hall, always spoke of the scenery of this region as having done very much in his early days to form his notions of the beautiful. In one of his most admirable sermons, preached at Bristol, when discoursing upon "the new heavens and the new earth," he indulged in an astonishing outbreak of eloquence, while he conducted his audience to the surpassing beauties of their own vicinage, sin-ruined as it was, and then supposed that this earth might become the dwelling-place of the redeemed, when, having been purified from all evil, it should again become "very good." Here, on these scenes of unrivalled beauty, Southey, and Lovell, and Coleridge, and Cottle have loved to meditate; and the wondrous boy Chatterton fed his muse amid these rare exhibitions of the power and wisdom of the Godhead. A Roman encampment is still visible on the summit of the rocks. We were all sorry, to see such havoc going on among the quarries, where, to use Southey's language on this subject, they are "selling off the sublime and beautiful by the boat load."