Then we come to Cleopatra’s Needle, with its odd and romantic adventures. As we stop to look, its extraordinary history rises before us. It is certainly one of the oldest monuments existing, after its long sleep in the sands; its being made a present to the English, and left neglected because impossible or difficult to remove. As all know, it was brought here by Sir Erasmus Wilson, was cast off and lost in a storm, recovered again, and finally happily moored off the Embankment. Here, by some elaborate pneumatic operations that consumed months, it was successfully raised. It may be said that the “fitting up” of the obelisk has been done inartistically, the plinth, base, etc., being of the modern fashion, and rather out of keeping. But the great glory of our river is Waterloo Bridge. This remarkable monument deserved Canova’s praise, who declared that “it was worthy of the Romans.” It is really more a roadway than a bridge, and grandly and loftily is it carried through the air, the approaches being made to suit it, a reversal of the common operation.[10] This noble structure spans the river with the dignity of an aqueduct. It is really a fine, impressive work, such as could hardly be conceived in our time. There is no graceful bend as in ordinary bridges; it is a stately, _straight_ road carried across the broad river. No wonder it has excited the admiration of foreigners, and a French critic has spoken with rapture almost of its merits. Here are his words: “If in the course of Revolutions, the nations of a future age should one day demand where was formerly the new Sidon, and what has become of the Tyre of the West, which covered with her vessels the sea, most of the edifices devoured by a destructive climate will no longer exist; but the Waterloo Bridge will exist to tell remote generations ‘here was a rich and powerful city.’ The traveller on beholding this superb monument will suppose that some great Prime Minister wished by many years of labour to consecrate for ever the story of his life by this imposing structure. But if tradition instruct the traveller that six years sufficed for the undertaking, that an association of private individuals was rich enough to defray the expense of this colossal monument, worthy of Sesostris and the Cæsars, he will admire still more the nation which prompted the work.” The author of this eloquent passage did not know that a private company had expended over a million in their project, and were fairly repaid their outlay; but his admiration would have been increased had he foretasted that the work would have been finally purchased by the wealthy Metropolis, and presented as a free gift to the citizens.