Probably they have not since increased; but the numbers were formerly much greater; at one period the Vintners' Company alone possessed five hundred birds. *
* The marks are termed "nicks": the Vintners' mark is two nicks; hence the well-known tavern sign: "The Swan with two necks"
In the language of swan-herds, the male swan is called a Cob, the female a Pen; the black tubercle at the base of the beak is called the berry.
Instances are given by Yarrell of singular instinct in cases of floods, when the birds have beforehand raised their nests two feet and a half above the level of the stream, to protect the eggs from inundations. Mr. Jesse, in his "Gleanings of Natural History", observes that
"each family of swans on the river has its own district, and if the limits of that district are encroached upon by other swans, a pursuit immediately takes place, and the intruders are driven away."
Yarrell says,
"their food consists of the softer part of water-plants, roots, aquatic insects, and occasionally small fish: a swan has been seen to eat a small roach; they also eat grain and bread."

ETON COLLEGE WTSWG

Having passed the [Boveney] lock, we are at once in the midst of "a bustle". We are ignorant that "the rule of the road" is not the law of the water, and run much risk, in our comparatively unwieldy barge, of upsetting one or more of the tiny cockleshells in which a youth is seated, rowing up the stream; we cross rapidly over and give free passage — not without an audible reproach for our want of skill in Eton boat lore — to those

Who foremost now delight to cleave
With pliant arms thy glassy wave.

The youths are on the banks, as well as on the water of old Father Thames:

A sprightly race,
Disporting on thy margent green,
The paths of pleasure trace.

Out of this "careless childhood" or heedless youth, must issue much of the after-renown of England — upon them mainly rest the hereafter of her fate. The embryo statesman is here; the philosopher in the bud; the hero in the cruca; the germ of that greatness, the high destiny of which is to preserve the honour and extend the glory of a kingdom upon which the sun never sets; and as boy after boy passes — the father of the man — one can scarcely fail to murmur a hope, with a faith, in his career —

Hail to Ihee who shall be great hereafter!

In the lives of a very large portion of the foremost men of our country, it is an incident that they were "educated at Eton"; and to have been an "Eton boy" is the proud boast of many who have gathered laurels in peace and in war.
Eton is in Buckinghamshire, Windsor is in Berkshire. The river divides the counties — a very pretty bridge joining the towns. The College at Eton owes its birth to Henry VI., — there

Grateful Science still adore; Her Henry's holy shade, —

ETON COLLEGE

the charter of incorporation bearing the date 1441. The buildings consist of two quadrangles, in one of which are the chapel and school, with the dormitory of the foundation-scholars; in the other are the library, provost's house, and lodgings of the fellows. The chapel is a handsome Gothic edifice, and is that which "tells" so well in all pictures of the place. A statue in bronze of the royal founder occupies the centre of one of the quadrangles. Few buildings are more happily situated; — "the meadows" adjoin it, the Thames rolls its refreshing waters immediately in front, while always in view are the towers of "regal Windsor", inciting to that loyalty which is ever the associate of virtue in the young.
The college, as originally founded by Henry VI., was, in accordance with the feelings of his age, charitable as well as scholastic; *
* "On the 30th of July, 1440, the king, preparatory to the settlement of the College, and probably at the suggestion of Bekynton, Bishop of Bath and Chancellor of Eton, visited Winchester, and examined the plan of Wykeham's foundation there." — Tighe and Davis's History of Windsor.
These authors say that it was "not only a place of gratuitous instruction and maintenance for indigent scholars, but also a place of education for the children of wealthier families.
having also a number of priests to properly perform religious services in this "College Roiall of our Ladie of Eton", as it was first termed.
It then consisted of a provost, ten priests, six clerks, six choristers, twenty-five poor grammar scholars, with a master to instruct them, and twenty-five almsmen, who lived upon the foundation. The king granted the lands of the dissolved monastery of Deerhurst, in Gloucestershire, to the college; but this led to disputes with the powerful prelates of the Abbey of Tewkesbury, which lasted until the reign of Henry VII., when, by way of peaceful conclusion, an exchange was made with them for other lands. Even during the progress of this suit, the lands originally granted were taken by Edward IV. to bestow on a more favoured college at Fotheringham, in Northamptonshire, founded by one of his ancestors. When Henry VI. had decided on this establishment, he incorporated two small colleges, or hostels, at Cambridge, one of which he had founded two years before; and thus King's College, Cambridge, originated, to which, as Lambarde remarks, "Eton annually sendeth forth her ripe fruit."

The college was especially exempted in the act of dissolution, and its revenues were then valued at £1101 l5s. 7d. It was by the command of King George III. that the scholars are termed "King's scholars". They are eligible from the ages of eight to fifteen years, and are required by the statute to be "indigentes" (which they now never are), and skilled in reading, chanting, and grammar.
There was a curious old custom here known as the "Montem", which was discontinued only a few years since; *
* It was discontinued in 1847, at the instigation of the Master of the College, who urged upon Her Majesty's Government various reasons for its abolition: the measure was however, strongly opposed by many old Etonians.
the boys were dressed in various fancy costumes, and "begged" on the first Tuesday of Whitsun-week of all passers-by. The money was termed "salt", and the gatherers "salt-bearers"; the proceeds were generally large, and were given to the senior boy to defray his expenses at Cambridge. Salt Hill, to which the scholars went in procession, is an artificial hill, or mound, about two miles from Eton. It is believed to be an ancient tumulus, probably used subsequently as a place of popular assembly. The ceremony was generally very gay, there being always among the spectators the relatives and friends of the aristocratic scholars who levied the "salt"; and who were little scrupulous in assailing the purses of their connexions, in their eagerness to make up the largest possible sum "for the honour of the college". The Royal Family more than once joined in the festivities of the day, particularly in 1793 when they all visited the college to see the procession start, and went afterwards to view the ceremonies there, and give their donations to the salt-bearers. The ceremony was triennial. The practice has been very properly discontinued: although rendered in some degree respectable by time, and certainly venerable by age, the usage was derogatory and humiliating. It is now only a matter of history, having passed away as one of the evidences of the "wisdom of our forefathers", which society has benefited by abrogating altogether: like many other matters of a bygone age, it was

A custom more honoured in the breach than in the observance.

THE MILLS AT ETON

The mills at Eton are of great antiquity. In the "Annals of Windsor" we are told that in the time of the Conqueror there were two mills at Eton and a fishery. One of the mills at Eton and that at Clewer no doubt stood on the same spots where the "Tangier" and Clewer mills are now situated. Various causes tend to make a corn-mill one of the most permanent species of property. Wherever a mill is specified in Domesday Book, we generally find it still subsisting. Mills anciently belonged to the lords of the manor, and the tenants were permitted only to grind at the lord's mill. This circumstance sufficiently accounts, not only for the great number of mills noticed in the survey as objects of profit to the landholder, but for the large sums they are continually stated to yield. The fisheries at Eton and at Windsor also still exist on the same spots they occupied eight hundred years ago.

WINDSOR BRIDGE WTSWG

Collier, in his Map of Windsor, 1742, thus notes concerning Eton in his time: —
"A wooden bridge over the river Thames joins Windsor to Eton, so called from its low situation among the waters; for Eton is the same as Watertown, but, as they are running waters, and it is a gravelly soil, it is observed that no place is more healthy than this.

It is well known for the college founded here by Henry VI., 1440, *
* Our engraving exhibits the seal of the college used in the reign of Edward IV. It is termed upon it "The Royal College of the Blessed Virgin Mary", and her assumption is depicted in the centre, above the arms of the sovereign. She is represented in royal robes, surrounded by glory, crowned and supported by angels from an aureole of clouds. There is much that is curious and instructive in the study of these old seals, irrespective of their interest as historic documents to the antiquary. Thus the conventional religious picture afforded by the present example, is so very characteristic of a certain era in the art of design, that a date is not necessary to determine its age by the eye accustomed to examine such relics. The regal dress in which the Virgin is wrapped, and the peculiar arrangement of the angelic host in the sky, are all indicative of a phase in the art of the mediaeval era; an art, however wanting in elegance, yet never without a certain earnestness and love of truth.
and for the great number of the sons of noblemen and gentlemen that are sent to the school here for their education."
The college at this time consisted of a provost, seven fellows, a master, usher, seventy scholars, and sixteen choristers.
The library is extensive, and contains some curious books; its principal contributors were the Bishop of Chichester, Sir Thomas Reeve, Lord Chief Justice of the Common Pleas, and Dr. Richard Mead, whose collections included those of Mr. Richard Topham, of New Windsor. *
* The greatest rarity in the library is a copy of "Ralph Roister Doister", the earliest comedy in the English language. It was written by Nicholas Udall, before 1550, who was one of the masters of Eton school, and is noted by Tusser, the author of the " Five Hundred Pointes of Good Husbandrie", as his master when there, and as a very severe one to him and others.
We learn from the Builder that the Hall has been very recently restored, according to designs by Mr. Woodyer.
"The roof is new, but simple in construction. Two large Gothic windows east and west replace those inserted by Wren. That at the west end over the dais has been filled with stained glass. In the upper part of the window the central light is occupied by a figure of the founder, King Henry VI., the smaller light being filled with armorial bearings and heraldic designs, and the six lower lights are filled as follows; —
1. Visit of King Henry VI. to Winchester, previous to the foundation of Eton College.
2. King Henry VI. purchasing the tenements which stood on the site of Eton College.
3. Henry VI. granting the charter to the college.
4. The appointment of the first provost.
5. Henry VII. when Duke of Richmond, a scholar at Eton.
6. Defence of the liberties of the college by Provost Westbury, under Edward IV.
This window is the work of Mr. Hardman. The plain stone floor has been replaced by a pavement of Minton's encaustic tiles, containing various arms and badges connected with the college and founder. Behind the wall-panelling, where their existence was wholly unsuspected, were discovered three fire-places, the carving of that on the dais being as fresh as though just from the workman's chisel. There was also a small door discovered, communicating with the lodge, and is now again used by the provost. The screen (and gallery) at the east end, replacing Sir Christopher Wren's screen, contains the shields of the benefactors of the College."

WINDSOR CASTLE

ANCIENT WINDSOR CASTLE

Windsor Castle, occupying a hill to which there is an ascent from all sides, is seen from every part of the adjacent country, and the several distant heights; it is always a pleasant sight, not only as regards the scenery, but with reference to its many "happy and glorious" associations with the past, and its suggestions of hope and joy as the favourite dwelling of the Queen, the Prince Consort, and the royal family of England. *
* Until very recently there was no worthy History of Windsor — a singular deficiency in our literature. The want has, however, been at length supplied: two large volumes have been recently published, entitled,
"Annals of Windsor; being a History of the Castle and Town, with some account of Eton and places adjacent. By Robert Richard Tighe, Esq., and James Edward Davis, Esq."
They exhibit amazing research, and include every topic, important or trifling, desirable to illustrate the castle-palace. They contain many prints, plans, and maps, and may be considered as entirely exhausting the subject. From this work we have borrowed much, and gratefully acknowledge our debt to the accomplished and indefatigable authors.
Here, in its gardens, walks, or rides, they may be seen daily, during the period of their residence, protected by the loyalty that has become affection, and the duty that is a true pleasure. The earliest engraved representation of Windsor Castle is that to be found in Braun's "Civitatis Orbis Terrarum", 1594, which was drawn by a foreign artist — George Hoefnagle — for that work. We copy the portion that exhibits the walled forecourt, with the Chapel of St. George in the midst. The round tower beyond, as depicted in the same view, is very much beneath its present altitude: it was raised during the renovations by George IV. The walls here seen are the oldest remains of the fortifications. The towers which are so thickly set along them are of two characters — round and angular. The former are probably the remains of the castle as enlarged by Henry III. The portion inhabited by royalty beyond this consisted, in the reign of Elizabeth, of a conglomerate of square and round towers, the work of successive ages of change, which adapted the fortress-home of the earlier kings to the more secured and refined life of the days of the "Lion Queen". The terrace is represented in this curious print as a simple embankment supported by wooden piles, with a row of rails to protect promenaders from a fall into the ditch below. The town at this time appears to have been a collection of small cottages, and a shepherd reposes with his sheep in the foreground of the view, while mounted courtiers pursue the deer in the park, accompanied by huntsmen who run on foot beside them. Such was the Windsor of the days of Shakspere.

The present aspect of the castle is widely different; but, during every change, there has been one striking feature preserved — the old Bell Tower, which we here engrave. It formed one of the most ancient defences; and is seen in the view engraved [above]; it is now one of the most conspicuous points of the castle when viewed from the river, or seen in its full proportion as the visitor wends his way up the main street of the town to the principal entrance. This ancient erection was originally called Clure, or Clewer Tower, and subsequently Julius Caesar's Tower. This western extremity of the castle, with its walls and towers, is the only portion of the building that has retained the original features of the edifice, as erected in the thirteenth century. Only a few years ago the walls were hidden by houses built close upon them, but they were all removed in 1851, the walls were again exposed, and the narrow, winding Thames Street widened and improved thereby. This north-western tower has long been used as a belfry and clock-house,— probably from the time of Edward III., when it is certain there was a clock at Windsor, since in the last year of his reign the sum of £50 was expended upon a new bell for it; and there is reason to believe that the castle clock has always occupied the same situation.
The bell tower, anciently "the curfew tower", was in early times the prison of the castle; and in the crypt underneath, the cells are still perfect in which state prisoners were confined. On the stone walls are many initials and dates, several so far back as a.d. 1600, but none earlier, except such as are undoubtedly forgeries. The accompanying engraving will convey an idea of this interesting interior, — in which, by the way, a subterranean passage has recently been discovered, said to lead under the Thames to Burnham Abbey, distant three miles, and supposed to have been constructed to facilitate the escape of the garrison at a period of anticipated peril. Messrs. Tighe and Davis, speaking of this tower, remark that
"the lower story has remained intact from its foundation. It consists of a chamber twenty-two feet in diameter, vaulted on plain massive stone ribs; the walls twelve feet and a half thick, with arched recesses, terminating in loop-holes. The whole is constructed with chalk, faced and arched with freestone, and is a perfect and most interesting specimen of the architecture of the period."

CRYPT IN BELL TOWER

Camden conjectures, "plausibly enough", that Windsor derived its name from the winding shores of the adjacent river, being by the Saxons called "Wyndleshora": in very ancient documents it is also so termed; and by Leland, "Windelesore". The earliest notice of " Wyndleshora" is to be found in the "deed of gift", by which the Confessor presented it to the monks of St. Peter, Westminster, he having a residence here. It did not, however, continue long in their possession, for the Conqueror, very soon after he subjugated England, "being enamoured of its situation, its convenience for the pleasures of the chase, the pureness of the air, and its vicinity to woods and waters", obtained it "in exchange", bestowing on the monastery Wakendune and Feringes, in Essex. He at once commenced building a castle on the pleasant site; and in the fourth year of his reign kept his court there, and held there a synod: for eight centuries and a half, therefore, Windsor has been the palace of the British sovereigns, and its history is in a great degree that of the kingdom over which they ruled. *
* The seal of the Corporation of Windsor is here engraved. It will be perceived that the castle forms the principal object. The inhabitants were first incorporated by Edward I., when Windsor was made the county town until 1314, when Edward II. transferred it to Reading. The genuine old name of the town, slightly Latinized into "Wyndlesorie", appears on this seal. The corporation consists of a high steward (H.R.H. the Prince Consort), recorder, mayor, six aldermen, &c. It was declared a free borough in 1276. The population, by the census of 1851, was about 9000. The borough sends two members to parliament. Its principal public structure, the hall and corn-market, was built by Sir Christopher Wren, in 1686.

WINDSOR CASTLE

In the prodigious pile which now covers the hill, there can be little resemblance to the castle in which the first William received his proud Norman barons, and the humbled Saxon "thegns" he had subdued. It was not until King Henry I. had enlarged it "with many fair buildings", and kept his Whitsuntide there, in the year 1110, that it became famous as the royal residence. He was married to his second queen at Windsor, in 1122, and five years afterwards he held another "solemn feast" at the castle, when David, King of Scotland, and the English barons, swore fealty to the king's daughter, the Empress Maud, at which time Windsor was esteemed the second fortress of the kingdom. More than one parliament was held here in this reign; it was within its walls that John angrily awaited the meeting of his barons at Runnymede, they having refused to trust themselves by visiting the king in his stronghold, and the king merely leaving the fortress to append his signature to Magna Charta, and return sulkily to his fastness.
During the barons' wars the garrison was lost and won by both parties in turn. The peaceful days of the first Edward note only the records of tournays and residence here. His successor had several royal children born here; Edward of "Windsor" was his eldest, who afterwards figures so nobly in English history as Edward III. It derived accessions of strength and beauty from many succeeding monarchs. By the third Edward it was almost entirely rebuilt: the famous William of Wykeham being clerk to the works, "with ample powers, and a fee of one shilling a day whilst at Windsor, and two shillings when he went elsewhere on the duties of his office"; his clerk receiving three shillings weekly.
As evidence of the liberty the king's subjects then enjoyed, it may be stated that "three hundred and sixty workmen were impressed to be employed on the building, at the king's wages: some of whiom having clandestinely left "Windsor, and engaged in other employments to greater advantage, writs were issued prohibiting all persons from employing them on pain of forfeiting all their goods and chattels". Good old times!
In the great civil war the castle was garrisoned for the parliament, and was unsuccessfully attacked by Prince Rupert in 1642. Six years afterwards it became the prison of Charles I., who here "kept his sorrowful and last Christmas".
After the Restoration, the second Charles restored the castle from the state of dilapidation in which he found it. But for its present aspect we are mainly indebted to his Majesty George IV., who, by aid of his architect, Jeffrey Wyatt, afterwards Sir Jeffery Wyattville, and "assisted" by copious parliamentary grants, gave to the palace its high character; Art contributing largely to the advantages it received from Nature. It is, however, to be regretted that these restorations were not postponed to recent times, when Gothic architecture is so much better understood; we may well imagine how infinitely more perfect the structure would have been if the successor of William of Wykeham had been Gilbert Scott, and not Sir Jeffrey Wyattville.

To describe Windsor Castle is foreign to our purpose; it would demand a volume instead of a page; and there are many guide-books that do so with sufficient accuracy. Visitors are admitted freely to examine all the more ordinary apartments; *
* Tickets to view the state apartments may be obtained in London from Messrs. Colnaghi, Pall Mall East, and other publishers. But also, by a recent and very judicious arrangement, visitors may receive orders from J. Roberts, Esq., at the Lord Chamberlain's office, within the walls.
and these are richly decorated by works of Art. The corridor contains a large collection of paintings by many of the old masters, mingled with several of our own time, — the portraits of Lawrence, and the commemorative pictures of Wilkie, Leslie, and Winterhalter. During a considerable portion of the year, Windsor Castle is the residence of the Sovereign. It is unnecessary to say that "the apartments" ordinarily called "private", but which are occasionally, and under certain restrictions, shown to visitors, are fitted up with a degree of graceful refinement unsurpassed in any mansion of the kingdom. They will not indeed vie in costliness of decoration, and extravagance of ornament, with many of the continental palaces; there is here no lavish expenditure, and but little of that "display" which excites more of wonder than admiration; but there is an elegant "fitness" in all things, appertaining more to comfort than to grandeur, and belonging less to the palace than "the home". But in furnishing and decoration, in the several chambers for state purposes, and in all they contain, there is amply sufficient to make the subject satisfied that the sovereign is worthily "lodged" when at Windsor, to rejoice that it is so, and fervently to pray that so it may continue to be through many generations yet to come.
Windsor Castle has been always described as the only royal residence in England; certainly, it is the only appanage of the crown that can be considered on a par with those regal dwellings in which other European sovereigns reside, or compared with some of the seats of our nobility scattered throughout the several shires. It is in truth a palace worthy of our monarchs, rising proudly on a steep which commands prospects innumerable on all sides. There is perhaps no single spot in our island from which can be obtained so grand an idea of the beauty and the wealth of England:

And ye, that from the stately brow
Of Windsor's heights th' expanse below
Of grove, of lawn, of mead survey,
Whose turf, whose shade, whose flowers among
Wanders the hoary Thames along
His silver-winding- way.

But the value of Windsor is largely augmented by the associations that connect it with the past. Many of the illustrious names of ten centuries have their records here: here the Order of the Garter was instituted; Windsor Castle is the temple of the order; true heroes, many, have been numbered among the "poor knights", who have still their "convenient lodgings within the walls." *
* This establishment was formed by Edward III. They were originally called "Milites Pauperes", subsequently "Alms, or poor knights of Windsor", but are now distinguished only as "military knights of Windsor." Their number is thirteen of the royal foundation, and five of the foundation of Sir Peter Le Maire, in the reign of James I. There is also an establishment (founded by the will of Mr. James Travers), but not within the walls, for seven naval officers. By one of the early regulations it was declared that "the knights should be elected from gentlemen brought to necessity through adverse fortune, and such as had passed their lives in the service of their prince." This wholesome rule has been seldom adhered to until of late years. During the sovereignty of Queen Victoria no claims have been regarded except those of merit and service. It is a gratifying sight, and one of which all Englishmen may be rightly proud, to see these gentlemen thus comfortably provided for in their honoured age.
St. George's Chapel is in the lower ward of the castle; it was begun by King Edward IV., the older chapel, founded by Henry I., having gone to decay, as well as that rebuilt by Edward III. The king, determined that his new building should equal any fabric then in existence, appointed the Bishop of Salisbury to superintend it: so costly and laborious was the work that it was not completed till the reign of Henry VIII., the roof of the choir being the last thing done, in the year 1508. Sir Reginald Bray, the prime-minister to Henry VII., succeeded the Bishop of Salisbury as clerk of the works, and he was a liberal contributor to its completion; his cognizance occurs on several parts of the building. Some remains of the older chapel of Henry III. are still, however, believed to exist on the north side of the dean's cloisters, and at the east end of the chapel, behind the altar, where one of the doors is covered with old wrought iron-work of much beauty.
The chapel is the mausoleum of many kings. The earliest buried here was the unfortunate Henry VI.: but his tomb has been long since destroyed, and the royal arms, under a simple arch, marks the spot ¦where it once stood. In the north aisle is the tomb of Edward IV.; it consists of a simple slab, over which is erected an open screen, highly enriched with Gothic tabernacle-work in iron, which has been gilt. In the year 1789 the vault below was opened, and the skeleton of the king discovered in a plain leaden coffin. In a vault beneath the choir King Henry VIII. lies buried; he has no monument, but one was in course of erection by him when he died, which he directed to be made more stately than the tombs of any of his predecessors. They were all despoiled and destroyed in the great civil war. One of his queens, Jane Seymour, is also buried at Windsor, and so was King Charles I. *
* The tomb-house now used as a royal burial vault was originally designed by Wolsey for himself. It was fitted as a chapel by James II., and, after his abdication, allowed to decay, until George III., in the year 1800, gave orders that it should undergo a thorough repair, in order to be used as a place of interment for himself and family— a purpose to which it has been since dedicated.

St. George's Hall was built by Edward III. as a banquetiug-room for the Knights of the Garter, when they met to celebrate the festival of their patron annually at Windsor. The old seal of the warden and college of the chapel of St. George, at Windsor, is curious, as depicting the king kneeling to the patron saint of England. It has that minutiae of detail which gives so much interest to these early works. At this time the festival was celebrated with tournay and processional display; many noble foreigners were invited to be present, and the utmost splendour of feudal pomp was lavished on the ceremony. For more than two centuries feasts of this kind were annually held at Windsor, The new statutes of the order, made by Henry VIII., preluded the necessity of holding the great feast here; and in the reign of Elizabeth it was arranged to be held wherever the court happened to be. So showy were these displays, that knights-companions were allowed to bring fifty followers; and admission to the order has always been considered one of the highest honours an English sovereign can bestow. Their number (exclusive of foreign princes) is limited to twenty-five. The stalls of the sovereign and the knights-companions of the Garter are situated in the choir of St. George's Chapel. Each stall is enriched with carving, and behind is the armorial bearings of each knight, and above the silken banner emblazoned with his arms. The royal stall is on the right of the entrance, and is distinguished by a larger banner of velvet, mantled with silk.
Of the Order of the Garter, Selden says: —
"It exceeds in majesty, honour, and fame, all chivalrous orders in the world", and has "precedence of antiquity before the eldest rank of honour of that kind anywhere established."
Of course a chivalric institution of the middle ages, so entirely adapted to the knight-errantry then practised, has lost much of its meaning and use in modern times; it is now simply a distinction; but it is the noblest the sovereign of these realms can bestow, and among the brotherhood are enrolled the names of sovereigns of other kingdoms, who willingly admit the honour accorded by such companionship. The origin of the order is still involved in doubt. The recent historians of Windsor, whose work we have several times quoted, tell us, "the annals of the institution, the chroniclers of the time, and the public records, do not afford the slightest information on tbe subject; and although some writers on the order have treated with contempt the romantic incident to which its extraordinary symbol has been ascribed, they have neither succeeded in showing its absurdity, nor suggested a more probable theory. The popular account is, that during a festival at court, a lady happened to drop her garter, which was taken up by King Edward; who, observing a significant smile among the bystanders, exclaimed with some displeasure, 'Honi soit qui mal y pense' — 'Shame to him who thinks ill of it.' In the spirit of gallantry which belonged no less to the age than to his own disposition, conformably to the custom of wearing a lady's favour, and perhaps to prevent any farther impertinence, the king is said to have placed the garter round his own knee." *
* Such was the opinion of one of our soundest historical antiquaries, the late Sir Nicholas Harris Nicolas, who first expressed it in his History of the Order of the Garter, and afterwards in his communication on the early history of the order, "Archaeologia", vol. xxiii.
He thinks the Story "perfectly in character with the manners and feelings of the time, and the circumstance is very likely to have occurred." It should be noted that this writer had no tendency to "romance", and but expressed the conviction of a mind devoted to dry research; but his conviction was essentially based on probabilities.
But greatest among all the many attractions of Windsor Castle are, perhaps, those which are presented to the visitor by the views he obtains from the terraces, or any of the adjacent heights, and especially from the battlements of "the Round Tower", —

Of hills and dales, and woods, and lawns, and spires,
And glittering towns and silver streams.

He stands in the centre of a panorama of unequalled beauty, and he is, as he ought to be, proud of his country. Look where he will, some object of deep and exciting interest meets his eye. Immediately beneath him, and seeming as if part of the grand demesne, is Eton, with its many associations of the present and the past, and fertile in hopes of the future. Here Wellington learned his first lessons in war; here, in his boyhood, the victory of Waterloo was fought and won; here William Pitt, and here also his great father, were the embryo pilots who steered "the ship" through the storm; here Bolingbroke, Camden, Walpole, Fielding, Boyle, Fox, Porson, Canning, and a host of other immortal men laid the foundations of that renown which became the glory of their country. Farther on is Slough, where, in a comparatively humble dwelling, the Herschels held commune with the stars. *
* The famous telescope of Dr. Herschel is still preserved in the garden of the house in which he lived, and may be seen without much difficulty by persons desirous of renderiug homage to the memory of the great astronomer.

STOKE POGIS CHURCH

Yet a little farther is the churchyard in which Gray lies, that of "Stoke Pogis", — beneath the tomb he erected to his mother and his aunt; it is the square tomb seen in our cut, and is without his name upon it, but a plain tablet on the wall records that "opposite this stone, in the same tomb upon which he has so feelingly recorded his grief at the loss of a beloved parent", his remains were deposited, August 1771. The churchyard is well worthy of a pilgrimage — it is a pleasant field walk of about two miles from Slough, and retains many features alluded to in the famous "Elegy." Still nearer Windsor is the ivy-covered tower of Upton, which is very ancient, and bears traces of Norman workmanship. It is believed by many to have been the one the poet had in mind, if not in eye, while writing. It certainly accords better than that at Stoke Pogis with his description — it is, and has been for centuries, "ivy-mantled". Upton was one of his early haunts; the gloomy character of the church and neighbourhood in twilight must have been well suited to the thoughts of the poet in this his most popular work.

THE IVY-MANTLED TOWER

Iver, Langley, Bulstrode, Dropmore, Burnham, and Dorney — places honoured in history and cherished in letters — will be pointed out to those who examine the rich landscape in this direction. Looking eastward and southward, other historic sites, and other examples of beautiful scenery, come within his ken. On a level with the eye is a range of hills — St. Leonard's Hill, Highstanding Hill, Priest's Hill, and Cooper's Hill; while further eastward are St. Anne's Hill, and St. George's Hill. At St. Leonard's Hill dwelt "for a season" the Earl of Chatham, "the great father of a greater son"; there, too, is Binfield, where Pope "lisped in numbers", —

First in these fields he tried the sylvan strain;

under the trees of Windsor Forest, in his boyhood, he conned his lessons, accompanied by his tutor, an old French Roman Catholic priest. Cooper's Hill overlooks Runnymede, commemorated in the beautiful verse of Denham —

Here his first lays majestic Denham sung;

while St. Anne's Hill looks down on the town of Chertsey, where dwelt in calm retirement, after seasons of exciting labour and thought, Charles James Fox, and where

The last accents flow'd from Cowley's tongue.

Gazing up "the Long Walk", — that noble tree-avenue of three miles, — the visitor sees the statue of George IV., a colossal work, standing on a rock, and placed on a mound; from this point we obtain a peep into the ancient glades, and contemplate those venerable sovereigns of the forest, who wore their green leaves in glory when the Conqueror was at Hastings.
To enumerate half the places seen from Windsor Castle, and which time, circumstance, and some heroic or grateful memory have rendered famous, would occupy pages of our tour. We may not forget, however, that the sight is often cheered and gratified while wandering over the view from "Windsor's heights" by those well-managed and productive "farms", which, under the personal care of the Prince Consort, are examples and lessons to the English gentleman.
But to the present age, and the existing generation, the castle at Windsor is suggestive of holier and happier feelings than those we derive from the past. The most superb of our palaces is accepted as a model for the home of the humblest, as of the highest, British subject; the lowliest in position, as well as the loftiest in rank, deriving their best example from those graces and virtues which are adornments of the proudest mansion of the realm. And not alone is this "home" pre-eminent for domestic happiness: the personal character of the Sovereign, and that of her illustrious Consort, influence every class and order of society; they are the patrons of all improvements for the good of their country; all its charities are helped and forwarded by them; under their just and considerate rule, at a time when every state in Europe was in peril, there was no disaffection at home: loyalty has become the easiest of Enghsh duties; those who teach the present generation the old and venerated lesson, "Fear God and honour the Queen", have to contend against no prejudice, to reason down no opposing principle, to overcome no conscientious scruples that rational liberty is abridged by earnest and devoted homage to the crown. It is the universal heart of her kingdom which utters the "common" prayer — "that God will with favour behold our most gracious sovereign lady Queen Victoria; endow her plenteously with heavenly gifts; grant her in health and wealth long to live, and strengthen her that she may vanquish and overcome all her enemies."
The "Little Park", so called because of its immediate contiguity to the castle, and to distinguish it from the "Great Park", is described as about four miles in circumference; it derives interest, in addition to its intrinsic beauty, as the scene of those revels which Shakspere has described in his "Merry Wives of Windsor". *
* The Little Park was enclosed some years ago, during the present reign, and the meadow below the slope was given in exchange to the people of Windsor, who now play at cricket there, and use it for fetes and other amusements.

HERNE'S OAK

And here was the famous tree — "Heme's Oak" — round which "the hunter" —

Some time a keeper here in Windsor Forest —

was doomed to walk "all the winter time". The veritable tree was cut down by an unfortunate mistake at the close of the past century. Ireland, in his picturesque views of the Thames, published in 1792, describes it as then standing, and gives an engraving of it, which we copy.

HERNE'S OAK: THE EARLIER

There are, however, many in Windsor who believe that this tree was not the tree, but that a venerable ruin which still exists, and to preserve which every possible care has been taken, is actually that to which the "immortal poet" made reference in the drama of which the scene is laid in this neighbourhood. Among the most strenuous advocates for this view of the case is Mr. Jesse, whose works exhibit so much of pure fancy in combination with observation, thought, and genuine love of Nature; and there can be no doubt that the venerable father of the forest, whose cause Mr. Jesse eloquently adopts, was aged when Falstaff was pricked by the fairies under the branches of some denizen of the forest "thereabouts": *
* An inscription has been placed on this tree from Shakspere, as if to identify it with that to which the poet alludes. Messrs. Tighe and Davis, in their great book on Windsor, have again entered into the entire question as to the fate of the old tree; they have come to the conclusion that the genuine tree has been destroyed, and that the present one is one of the old trees in an avenue once Known as Queen Elizabeth's Walk. It is a tree of no remarkable size, and was alive in 1790, when the real tree was cut down.

Under its boughs, all mossed with age,
And high top bald with grey antiquity.

HERNE'S OAK: THE LATER

This tree is of a picturesque character, it is venerable and interesting, and the reader will be pleased to examine its likeness, as an example of the antique features of the sylvan scenery of Windsor. *
* The question as to the identity of this tree with that named by Shakspere was anxiously inquired into by Mr. Knight in his edition of the immortal poet's works, and he places beyond doubt the fact of its destruction.
West, the president of the Royal Academy, used to relate that King George III. "had directed all the trees in the park to be numbered, and upon the representation of the bailiff that certain trees encumbered the ground, directions were given to fell those trees, and that Heme's Oak was among the number".
Mr. Nicholson, the landscape painter, some time after this made further inquiries on the point, and requested Lady Ely to ask the king himself, who confirmed the story, saying, "that when he was a young man it was represented to him that there were several old oaks in the park which had become unsightly objects, and that it would be desirable to take them down. He gave immediate directions that such trees should be removed; but he was afterwards sorry he had given such an order inadvertently, because he found that, among the rest, the remains of Herne's Oak had been destroyed".
If any doubt remains, it will certainly be removed by the fact that about the period the following lines appeared in a newspaper (the Whitehall Evening Post). Mr. Thomas Wright, F.S.A., has courteously forwarded them to us, as copied by him out of an old volume of "cuttings" collected by his father.

ODE,
UPON HERNE'S OAK BEING CUT DOWN, IN THE SPRING OF 1796
______

'There is an old tale goes, that Herne the hunter,
Some time a keeper here in Windsor Forest,
Doth all the winter time, at still midnight,
Walk round about an oak,' &c.
SHAKSPERE'S Merry Wives of Windsor

From the parks at Windsor we are naturally led to some consideration of Windsor Forest: there is nothing, of its class in the kingdom more entirely beautiful, — in a word, it is worthy of the magnificent castle to which it is attached. Although now of comparatively limited extent, it was "anciently" among the largest forests of the kingdom. *
* One of the most beautiful spots in Windsor Forest is "the Heronry"; the birds are still numerous there. It lies in the vicinity of the red brick tower at the western extremity of the park. The neighbouring scenery strongly calls to mind the sylvan descriptions in "As You Like It". It is probable that Shakspere derived many of his ideas of forest scenery from Windsor Forest.
"It comprised a part of Buckinghamshire, as well as a considerable district of Surrey, and ranged over the whole of the south-eastern part of Berkshire, as far as Hungerford." In Surrey it included Chertsey, and its eastern boundary is said to be marked by an aged oak-tree still standing, at Addlestone, and under the boughs of which tradition states that Wickliff preached. The reader will, no doubt, be gratified if we submit to him a picture of this tree also.

WICKCLIFF'S OAK

THE KEEPER'S DAUGHTER

Let us vary our more matter-of-fact details by the introduction of one of those sketches which, though of little importance in themselves, like the lights in a picture, may give strength and value to a subject.
Many years have passed since we believed we knew every house, cottage, lodge, and tree in the picturesque neighbourhood of Old Windsor; indeed once, when in very ill health, we spent three months at a keeper's lodge; his wife had been the favourite servant of an old friend, and we were especially recommended to her care because of the air, and quiet, and new milk, and fresh eggs, and the quantity of game (no imputation on the good keeper's honesty). It was then we learned all the green paths and brown roads, and dales and dells, of this charming locality; spending hours, day after day, in the forest, with no other companions than a sure-footed pony and the keeper's only child — a particularly shy, mild, blue-eyed, blushing sort of girl, who looked fifteen, but was quite twenty; who used to cry over "Paul and Virginia" at least once a week, and knew by heart every word of "Turn, gentle hermit of the dale", and "Margaret's Ghost"; who loved moonlight, believed in fortune-tellers, and confessed that whenever she tossed a cup she found a true-lover's knot in the bottom. It was, therefore, evident that the girl had a lover somewhere; but as we had never seen him, we asked no questions. We had taken several excursions together, and we fancied we had made considerable progress in all kinds of forestry: could tell the different sorts of birds'-nests at a glance; could find a hare's form, and could track a rabbit; could tell how the wind blew, and where the deer lay; and knew many lonely roads and winding paths where that enemy of tranquillity, "the public", had never been.
One evening, returning from a delicious ramble, our fair guide turned into a cover so close that we almost laid down on the pony's neck to avoid contact with boughs and brambles; and when that peril was past, we found ourselves on a long strip of upland which stretched away for a considerable distance. This narrow elevation, had it been near the castle, or any other dwelling, would have formed a terrace, sloping as it did on each side into the wildest underwood, running on boldly and unsheltered, save at its abrupt termination, where, in far back times, two trees had been planted, designed perhaps to form what their interlacing boughs really had formed — a natural arch. <

Through this there was a bird's-eye peep at the Thames: there lay, like a vast mirror, the calm, silent river, lending its magic light to the landscape, touched here and there by the rose-coloured and saffron tints of the setting sun; indeed, the sun had set, but the tender farewell colours still lingered on the clouds, and were reflected by the faithful river. The scene was so unexpected, and so fascinating, that we drew up with an exclamation of delight, much to the pony's contentment, who immediately began to crop the grass.
After a sufficient pause, so rapidly were the tints fading that, as we rode slowly along the ridge towards the trees, the river, in the deepening twilight, assumed a very soft, grey, lake-like effect — it was the perfection of repose, we asked our fair guide (whose bustling, thrifty mother had given her the out-of-the-way name of Rizpah) if this elevation was supposed to be natural or artificial, and she informed us that some said it was thrown up in old times in a single night, so that one of the ancient queens could sit there on her palfrey to see a battle.

This was not satisfactory, but our guide had no more to tell. Rizpah, however, deficient as she was in historic information touching the pathway, became quite eloquent in its praise; she thought it the prettiest spot in park or forest — the river shone so bright between the trees. Did we not observe how beautifully the ferns waved at either side? — they were so large: and in the little valley beyond the trees, just down the slope, there were so many orchids; and at the other side of the woodcutter's hut (yes, that distant brown ridge was a wood-cutter's hut) there were such lovely beds of iris, and such reeds! Should she go and gather some? the pony could not well go along in the hollow — the felled timber lay here, and there, and everywhere; but she could run over them — it was so pleasant to spring from one log to another!
But the blackbird was whistling his evening hymn, the bees and butterflies had folded themselves up for the night, and the "whang " of the cockchafer, and peculiar cry of the owl — not the "hoot-tu-who!" but the waking cry, a struggle in his throat, trying his voice, as it were, before he commences his fearful shout — warned us that the night would fall before we arrived at the lodge if we tarried longer; and so we told Rizpah very decidedly — for she always tried to have her own way — that we would come another time — the dew was falling, and we dared not linger. The girl looked disappointed, and we turned our pony (nothing loth) homeward; suddenly a clear sharp cry — the nearest attempt a woman makes at a shout — broke upon our ear, and in less than a minute it was answered. We looked for Rizpah, and saw her running towards us from beneath the long shadows of the arched trees.
"What cry was that?"
"It was I", replied the panting Rizpah, as she laid her hand on the pony's neck, and seemed intent on picking her steps, though the path was broad and clear, a rich carpet of short grass and moss; "it was I; and did you not hear the echo?"
"Echo!" we repeated; "we heard an answering shout, but no echo."
"It is a curious echo", persisted Rizpah; "we have many curious sounds in these parks and forests."
Now we had been fully convinced that Rizpah was practising upon our credulity, and were half amused and half provoked at the coolness and self-possession of the shy, innocent-looking forest girl, but we simply repeated,
"Very curious indeed; was the echo there when the queen sate on her palfrey to see the battle of the Thames?"
Rizpah replied, with her usual mixture of coolness and innocence, "She did not know."

Rizpah's mother was a stout, rosy dame, simple-minded and straight-forward — bright, cheerful, good-natured, and somewhat noisy; but though her voice was loud, it was not unmusical or inharmonious, and there was a tenderness in its tone when she spoke to the sick or the old, or the little children who sometimes found their way to her door, that was quite pleasant to hear. Her husband was like all other "keepers" — a tall, broad-shouldered man; we never saw him out of his dun-coloured leather loggias, or without his gun, and hardly ever heard his voice. She patted and petted him and her daughter, and patronized them in an easy, good-natured way, as if they were both little ones. She extended this care-taking to ourselves; and thus saved us all trouble in our domestic arrangements, while evidently increasing her own happiness. A great portion of that happiness depended on her being considered a "clever woman"; she was proud of that, proud of being clever and clear-sighted.
On our return, we were reproved for being out so late, and Rizpah was rather sharply questioned as to the cause. We had just commenced telling the good dame about the echo, when Rizpah, who was preparing tea, poured, as if accidentally, a little of the boiling water out of the tea kettle on her mother's favourite cat — a cat, by the way, who was chained every evening at six o'clock to the fender, to prevent its poaching. The scolding and commiseration which followed interrupted the story.
The cottage was a perfect bower of ivy, and clematis, and roses, and woodbine: along the south wall each climber seemed to flourish over its own particular territory, but at the gable end, where our rooms were situated, all mingled together; while the eaves were tenanted by birds, which even the cat did not seem inclined to disturb.
"If you please", said Rizpah, while removing the tea-tray, "there is no use in telling mother about the echo; she never believes in it, or in anything — not even in Herne the Hunter, or the fairy bridges at full moon over the Thames. Father and I never tell her anything of that sort."
"But she could test the echo."
"It's too far for mother to walk, and the pony would not be able to carry her; so, if you please, it's better to say nothing about it. She would begin to fancy things."

" What things, Ilizpah ?"
" Oh, I don't know", replied the girl, blushing"; mother has a very active mind: I would rather you said nothing about it." And she raised her soft limpid blue eyes to ours with such an appealing look, that we said quietly,
"Very well", and commenced reading.
In about an hour we heard a soft, low whistle, a little to the right; it was repeated twice. We opened our door, and passing along a passage, entered the kitchen; there stood Rizpah, looking decidedly sulky, with extended hands, holding a very thick skein of worsted, which her mother was slowly winding, talking all the time in an unmistakeable lecturing voice.
"I fear", I said, "there are poachers about; I have heard a whistle repeated three times."
"It's only the wind in the woodbine", said Rizpah, quickly; and while she spoke the clock struck nine.
"It's too early for poachers", said the dame, "and the moon is at full; they know better than to be about at this hour, or at full moon."
"It was not the wind in the woodbine, Rizpah", we replied, "nor in the ivy either — surely we must know the whistle of a man from the whistle of the wind: besides, there is not sufficient air afloat to move the petal of a rose."
At that moment an ill-favoured, snub-nosed, rough-coated, faithful, ugly dog — one of those miracles of canine sagacity and bad temper to be depended on only in moments of difficulty and danger — stood suddenly up on his hind legs, and placing his stubbed, vulgar paws on the ledge of the window, pricked his ears, bared his teeth ( Rizpah used to call it laughing ) whined, and wagged a nothing of a stump, which courtesy might designate a tail, most vigorously.
"Down, Dicken! down, sir!" exclaimed Rizpah, stamping her foot.
"Oh! oh!" said the dame, throwing her ball on the floor, "is that the wind in the woodbine? Soh! There's but one human creature beside your father and us two that Dicken laughs at!" The dame threw up the window, and there was a rustling among the branches; but Rizpah held the struggling Dicken in her arms.

"It's either father or the white owl in the ivy", faltered Rizpah, still restraining the dog.
"Father, or the white owl in the ivy!" repeated the dame, in her loudest and most contemptuous tone; "why, you jade, you know father's always a-bed and asleep, on moonlight nights, until eleven. The owl in the ivy, indeed! why he was found dead this morning." In a moment she had seized one of the guns, which always lay in a corner of the kitchen, and presented it at the darkness. Rizpah fell on her knees screaming, and Dicken sprang out of the window.
"What's to do here?" inquired the keeper's gruff, determined voice from the outside, and we saw him dimly under the shadow of the projecting roof;
"put down the gun, mother, and open the door; it's quite time to put a stop to this hide-and-seek foolery."
Rizpah, trembling and blushing, rose from her knees: it was not so dark but she saw that her father had taken a prisoner. "Oh, mother! mother!" she exclaimed, "father knew he was come back — and oh! mother! mother!"
And "Ah, Rizpah! Rizpah! was that the echo from the Thames? Is that great six-foot-one young man the 'wind in the woodbine?' Is the individual you call 'Paul' the 'owl in the ivy?' Sly, sly, quiet little blushing Rizpah! for shame!"
The next morning it was the dame who looked sulky, and instead of patting and petting Rizpah, it was Rizpah who petted and patted the dame. There might have been "family reasons", which did not concern us, but it was evident that the usually self-contained gamekeeper had determined Paul should marry Rizpah, and that Rizpah offered no opposition. The dame was either tired out or won over — perhaps a little of both; at all events, we lost our forest guide, but not before we knew the forest well.

ROMNEY AIT

Leaving the bridge that connects Windsor with Eton, — the Castle to the right, in Berkshire, and the College to the left, in Buckinghamshire, — we pass a long and narrow and prettily wooded ait, Romney Island, so well known to Etonians, and dear also to brethren of the angle, — for here good old Izaak passed many pleasant days of spring and summer with his beloved friends, Cotton, Donne, and that great and excellent man, Sir Henry Wotton, appointed by James I. Provost of Eton, "as the fittest place to nourish holy thoughts, and afford rest to his body and mind", after his busy life as an ambassador. We may fancy the four high and pure souls luxuriating under the shadows of refreshing trees, their simple enjoyments augmented by rare converse concerning Nature and her works: kindly, and loving, and gentle hearts; all in their decline (for Sir Henry was sixty when he took orders and office there), yet fresh and green, and young in age; each illustrating that passage which he who was "chiefest" among them so sweetly and so truly wrote: —

This man is free from servile bands,
Of hope to rise or fear to fall;
Lord of himself, though not of lands —
And having nothing, yet hath all.

WINDSOR LOCK [ ROMNEY LOCK WTSWG ]

WINDSOR LOCK [ now called Romney Lock ]

We soon pass through Windsor Lock, still lonely and retired, although so much of business and bustle is close at hand. *
* For the sketch we engrave we are indebted to Commander King, the gallant son of one of "the military knights", who, by the gracious kindness of his sovereign, "reposes" here in happy tranquillity, after a long life of honourable and active labour.
Captain King is well known to, and highly respected by, all artists and lovers of art. He was for many years a regular contributor to the walls of the Royal Academy; and his copies of Claude are among the best that have been made from the pictures of that great master.

[ BLACK POTTS ] RAILWAY BRIDGE WTSWG

Under the railway bridge of the Great Western we then row, between another ait — "Blackpott's" — and "the Home Park",

VICTORIA BRIDGE WTSWG

VICTORIA BRIDGE

until we arrive at Victoria Bridge, a new and exceedingly graceful structure, which connects Windsor with the pretty and picturesque village of Datchet. The bridge, which has its companion a mile or so lower down the stream — the Albert Bridge WTSWG — was built in 1851, from the design of Thomas Page, Esq., civil engineer, the acting engineer of the Thames Tunnel, and the engineer for Westminster Bridge.
"Datchet mead" is the name given to the lowland on the banks of the Thames between the river and the Little Park. It is the scene of Falstaff's adventure in the buck-basket, and "the muddy ditch close by the Thames' side" existed until the time of Anne, when it was converted into a covered drain, and known as Hoghole. The embankment raised to form the approach to this new bridge destroyed the last vestige of this hole, together with the small brick arch over it. The scenery about this bridge is very charming — quiet lawns, rich woods, and the noble castle, meeting the eye on all sides.

OLD WINDSOR WTSWG

Passing other pleasant places, and some graceful islets, which give their charms to the river scenery, we arrive at Old Windsor. It is certain that Edward the Confessor some time kept his court here, and it was that sovereign who presented the manor to the Abbot of Westminster, to increase the wealth of the monastery he had there founded. The site of the palace at Old Windsor is not known with certainty. A farm-house, which until recently stood west of the church and near the river, surrounded by a moat, probably marked the site. Scarcely raised above the level of the Thames, which flows close to it and supplied the moat with water, the palace had no natural defence, and was used rather as a convenient spot for hunting and hawking than as a place of strength. *
* Tighe and Davis's "Annals of Windsor".
When the Conqueror was firmly fixed upon the throne, he obtained the land from the monastery in exchange, and commenced building the Castle of Windsor on the elevation in the vicinity so peculiarly adapted for the site of a castle, according to the established rule of these defences. But the palace at Old Windsor was not deserted by royalty until long after the Castle was built. The probability is, that this castle was a simple military defence, and had no conveniency for residence until Henry I. completed, in 1110, additional buildings, and royally opened his home at Whitsuntide; after which we hear little of Old Windsor, except that the manor passed into a variety of hands, by whom it was held from the king by the service of finding a man with lance and dart to attend the royal army. Since the fourteenth century it has been held on lease under the crown.
Perhaps there are not so many dwellings in Old Windsor now as there were when the Norman took possession of England: and naturally and rationally preferring the height to the dell — to overlook the Thames rather than submit to its occasional inundations — commenced the fortress that has endured for eight centuries and a half, without having encountered any of those "battles, sieges, fortunes", to which so many other "strong places" have succumbed. Yet in Old Windsor there is nothing old; we search in vain for any indications of antiquity; there is no "bit of ruin" to carrv association back.

OLD WINDSOR CHURCH

OLD WINDSOR CHURCH

A new road from Windsor leads partly through the Long Walk, beside the model farm of his Royal Highness the Prince Consort, and a turn to the left conducts to the venerable church. It is a by-road, rarely trodden except by those who worship; a group of noble trees, and some yews of great age, completely surround and almost hide the sacred edifice. It is not, however, of very early date, and is rather picturesque than beautiful.
In the churchyard was buried that unhappy lady — fair and frail — who, as an actress and an author, obtained some share of notoriety at the close of the past century, and who was celebrated by the name of "Perdita", from her clever impersonation of that character in Shakspere's "Winter's Tale". A tomb covers her remains, but it is overgrown with nettles: there have been none, for half a century and more, to care for the last resting-place of unhappy "Mary Robinson".
An unpretending gravestone, near at hand, honours the memory of another who is there buried, one who was neither more nor less than a simple shepherd.
A sensation, difficult to describe, oppressed us when, after a lapse of many years, we found ourselves in the ever green churchyard of Old Windsor; we felt a loneliness that was not tranquillity — an undefined longing it was for perpetual repose: all around us was so still that even the song of the robin, and the footfall of the little wren upon the crisped leaves, disturbed our musing. It was a bright, glowing autumn day: there was no wind, no breeze, not enough to send another brown leaf from the oak— hardly any air to breathe: a very bright day for England, for the soft vapours, so thin and gauze-like, which here and there veiled the azure firmament, could hardly be called "clouds" — a cloudless autumn day: yet no shine of sun could penetrate the matted branches of the grand outspread yews. It flooded them with light; their luscious berries were of more than coral brightness. It was wonderful to stand off at a little distance from these resolute, unyielding trees, presenting the same outline, the same tone of colour, to one century after another, and note how their uppermost platforms — tier after tier of firm-set boughs — rejoiced in that great sunlight, while beneath reposed the dark ground, carpeted by accumulated spines of countless years.
"Old Windsor!" fallen from its ancient state, and but a suburb to the glorious pile beyond it! So "old" it is, that every vestige of its antiquity has mouldered into dust — the sacred dust that cherishes the roots of grand old trees, and yields nourishment to the very grass whereon we tread!

There was a change: the fitful autumn had called up a dark, heavy sweep of clouds, so suddenly, that we knew not whence they came: yet there they were, hanging like a mighty pall across the hemisphere, obscuring the full-faced glory of mid-day, and casting a grey, filmy hue over all the landscape. But we were compensated for the loss of light by the variety of shadows that passed over the church and trees, and we sat on a tombstone to watch their progress. All the tombs in this quiet field of graves have a green-grey tone of colour, caused, perhaps, by age or damp, or a mingling of both; they are in wonderful harmony. Upon some of them are time-honoured names; some are railed in, but the iron has lost its hard and exclusive character — it is either enwreathed by ivy or overgrown by moss. You would rather not believe that those who desired to preserve those particular graves were cold, defiant people, who wished to protect what belonged to them from the contamination of vulgar dust and ashes, but loving, tender folk, who "honoured their dead" with fervour in simplicity. How we cling to the desire of being remembered here, as if we doubted how we should be recoguised hereafter! yet how few are the bright names that endure even ten years after their owners have removed into the narrow house — how few of the many swept away by the surges of "Time" obtain an immortality derived from Heaven!

"It be a goin' to rain", said an old labourer, who had wheeled a barrow, heavily laden with autumn prunings, up the broad gravel walk, close to where we sate:
until he spoke we were unconscious of his presence. We looked up, not knowing whether the words were addressed to us or muttered to himself. Although he had that neglected look we too often observe in aged peasants, — as if circumstance ignored the poet's notion of "a brave peasantry, their country's pride' — his wrinkled skin was fair, and the red tint of the winter apple was on his cheek; there was unextinguished fire in his light blue eye: the face and form were alike Saxon. In his youth the old man must have been conspicuous for strength and beauty. He had withdrawn his hands from the barrow, and wiped his furrowed brow with the remnant of a spotted handkerchief.
"It be a goin' to rain", he repeated, in answer to our look of inquiry, "though the clouds are drifting towards the castle, and may breakover there: but there's no telling at this time o' year — they're here one minute, and gone the next. There's not much in the churchyard to please you: only, maybe, like the rest of the gentry, you want to see what we used to call the tomb of the Fair Shepherdess. Lor! when that tomb was put up first, what numbers came to see it! but there's nothing changes its object so much as curiosity — what people think so much of to-day they don't care about to-morrow. I've seen such loads of lords and gentlemen gazing at that tomb — but not so many ladies. She was a play-actor once, and they called her the Fair Perdita, which is shepherdess, you understand, the fair shepherdess — but to see how one may go from bad to worse! They say a king's love fell upon her like a mildew, and, for all her beauty, withered her up; and then she died, poor thing,— bad enough off too. And her daughter, — she has been to see her mother's tomb often, as I know well, for I have been on the spot, and opened the gate to her: and she'd bow and smile like a real lady: but always — and I minded it well — always she came either at early morning or in the gloom before night. She'd hang over the railing, even in winter, like a wreath of snow: it always seemed as though she loved, yet was ashamed of her; and she died just eighteen years after her mother. She could not have been more than five years old when the poor foolish mother died. I can tell over the inscription to you — I learnt it all by heart years and years ago, to repeat to the poor who could not read, and the rich who could not see; but, lor!" he added in a somewhat peevish tone, "everybody reads and sees now. — 'Mrs. Mary Robinson,' — that's the Perdita, — 'Mrs. Mary Robinson, author of poems, and other literary works: died on the 26th of December, 1800, at Englefield Cottage, in Surrey, aged 43 years.' And then the daughter — not married, you understand — 'Maria Elizabeth Robinson, daughter of Mary Robinson, of literary fame, who died at Englefield Cottage, January the 4th, 1818, in the 23rd year of her age.' — Two young deaths, and that's the end on't. Why, you'll hardly believe it, now, when the gentry come and ask which is 'Perdita's' tomb, and I tell 'em, maybe they'll hardly damp their shoes to look at it, and ask each other what poems 'twas she wrote, and no one knows — not one can tell! But, some fifty years ago, I've seen some, and from the Castle, too, who would tell them all over plain enough."

We sought to divert the old man's attention from a painful theme by remarking that there was another tomb in the churchyard of such natural and simple interest that we should be glad to know if "Thomas Pope", whose grave was close to the church-door, had been one of his friends. The expression of his face changed in a moment: we felt at once that we had fallen in his esteem. "Tom Pope", he said, in an indignant tone, "was only a common shepherd — just as he himself was; only a day labourer— nothing more than that! Those who put up the stone needn't have faced it right by the church-door, in the very eyes of the congregation: for his part, he didn't know what the gentry could see in such a headstone, to stand gazing at it, as they often did, on the Sabbath — exalting one poor man above another."
We told him we thought he ought to feel proud of such a distinction for one of his own class, and that we honoured the memory of the real shepherd far more highly than that of the make-believe shepherdess: the one had left an unsullied name, and an example worthy of imitation; the other — poor, fluttering butterfly! — no woman could look on her grave without a blush and a tear. Could he repeat the epitaph on Thomas Pope "Ah, ah, ah!" — what a cackling, bitter laugh it was! so contemptuous — "No — ah, ah! the gentry who liked might read that for themselves. He had nothing to say against Tom Pope! — Tom never had a coat on his back in all his life; nothing but a smock-frock, — and, ah! to put a tomb over him! 'Faithful and honest', — why, to be sure, many as 'faithful' were left under smooth grass: to think of his being exalted on a tombstone!"
We were so foolish as to persist — though the old man had resumed his barrow — in the attempt to reason him out of his nature, — a nature by no means peculiar to a Berkshire labourer. "Surely he ought to feel proud of a distinction conferred upon one of his own people."
Alas, alas! Tom Pope was none of his people: his father died at ninety-two — no one put a tomb over him. He himself would be eighty come Easter; and full sure he was no one would put a tomb over him. It was evident he considered the record of Thomas Pope's virtues an insult. He found no fault with the homage rendered to the gaudy imitation; the mock shepherdess had his sympathy, — she did not belong to his race: the real shepherd had his contempt. "Why should he have a tomb, when no one could put a tomh over him?"" The old peasant wheeled away his loadwithout further parley.
This is the touching inscription on the headstone to the memory of a real shepherd, conferring distinction and honour on the churchyard of Old Windsor —

THOMAS POPE,
SHEPHERD,
WHO DIED JULY THE 20TH, 1832,
AGED 96 YEARS.
CHEERFULLY LABORIOUS TO AN ADVANCED AGE,
HE WAS MUCH ESTEEMED BY ALL CLASSES OF HIS NEIGHBOURS,
SOME OF WHOM HAVE PAID THIS TRIBUTE OF RESPECT TO THE MEMORY
OF A FAITHFUL, INDUSTRIOUS, AND CONTENTED
PEASANT.
ALSO,
PHOEBE, WIFE OF THE ABOVE,
WHO DIED MARCH 2ND, 1843,
AGED 90 YEARS.

AT OLD WINDSOR

AT OLD WINDSOR

A passage through the churchyard leads to the Thames, and just at the corner is a quaint old house, which the artist thought it worth his while to copy, less for the mansion, however, than for the scenery about it.

COOPER'S HILL WTSWG

A mile or so from Old Windsor, and we enter the county of Surrey, on the right bank — Buckinghamshire remaining with us some way further on its left; the two great metropolitan counties then continuing on either side until, east of London, they meet the shires of Essex and Kent. The first object that arrests the eye of the tourist is the spire of the church at Egham; but his attention is soon directed to an object of even greater interest — Cooper's Hill. The hill is indebted for much of its fame to the poem of "majestic Denham"; it has other, and earlier, claims to distinction: although little more than "a steep", its slopes are gradual and ever green: it is beautifully planted — perhaps was always so — in parts; and is now crowned by charming villas, lawns, and gardens: it was, however, altogether a poetical fancy which thus pictured it —

his shoulders and his sides
A shady mantle clothes; his curled brows
Frown on the gentle stream, which calmly flows;
While winds and storms his lofty forehead beat —
The common fate of all that's high and great.

Denham, although born in Dublin, where his father was some time Chief Baron of the Exchequer, was "native" to this neighbourhood: here his ancestors lived and were buried. At Egham Church there are several monuments to their memory: his own dust reposes in Westminster Abbey. If he bestowed celebrity on Cooper's Hill, he derived hence the greater portion of his fame: tbe poem was published at Oxford in 1643, during tbe war between the King and tbe Parliament; its popularity was rapid, and has endured to our own time. Dryden described it as "the exact standard of good writing"; and "Denbam's strength" was lauded by Pope.

RUNNYMEDE WTSWG

VIEW FROM COOPER'S HILL

But Cooper's Hill has an advantage greater even than that it derives from the poem —

The eye, descending from the hill, surveys
Where Thames among the wanton valleys strays;

for at its foot is immortal Runnymede, and midway in its stream is the little island on which, it is said, John, the king, yielded to the barons, who there dictated to the tyrant terms that asserted and secured the liberties of their country. Runnymede is still a plain level field, unbroken by either bouse or barn, or wall or hedge. We know not if by any tenure it bas the right to be ever green; but we have always seen it during many years as a fair pasture — upon which to-day, as seven centuries ago, an army might assemble.

MAGNA CHARTA ISLAND WTSWG

MAGNA CHARTA ISLAND

The small ait or island — Magna Charta Island — is situate midway between Runnymede and Ankerwyke — now a modern mansion of the Harcourts, but once a nunnery, founded by Sir Gilbert de Montfichet and his son, in the reign of Henry II. Even the walls are all gone; but some ancient trees remain, under one of which tradition states the eighth Henry met and wooed tbe beautiful and unfortunate Anna Boleyn.
It is a mooted point whether the barons held the island, or the king selected it as the place where the eventful meeting was to take place. In Tighe and Davis's "Annals of Windsor", the name of Runnymede, which the field then bore, and still retains, is said to be derived from Run and mede, signifying in Anglo-Saxon, the Council Meadow. It is probable, therefore, that Edward the Confessor occasionally held his witan or council there during his residence at Old Windsor, and that the barons chose the ait as well on account of its previous association with those very rights they met to assert, as because it was a convenient distance from Windsor, sufficiently near for the king, but far enough removed to prevent any treacherous surprise by his forces. The early historians, indeed, expressly assert that the spot was chosen by the barons, the king, according to some, having suggested Windsor as the place of meeting.
According to local tradition, the conference took place and the charter was signed on a little island in the river near Ankerwyke, and opposite the meadow, and now called Magna Charta Island. The Charter bears date June 15, 1215. It is certain that John "took refuge in Windsor Castle in 1215, as a place of security against the growing power of the barons"; nor did he quit the protection its walls afforded him until after the signing of Magna Charta. The result of this great political gathering is one of the events in the world's history. Hence, as Hume hut coldly writes, "very important liberties and privileges were either granted or secured to every order of men in the kingdom: to the clergy, to the barons, and to the people."
Magna Charta may be considered as a general condensation of the laws for the proper guidance of the kingdom, and the liberty of its subjects, which had descended from the time of Edward the Confessor, and had been confirmed by other kings, particularly the Conqueror. The severe forest laws, and other obnoxious introductions of Norman usage, were always distasteful to Englishmen; and on the accession of Henry I. the celebrated Charter of liberties abolished many vexatious enactments, and placed the right of the subject on a clearer basis. Stephen and Henry II. both confirmed these laws; but the troublesome days which succeeded supplied excuses for their infringement, and the gradual encroachment of the crown on the general privileges of the subject, induced the barons and people to demand from John a clear and full declaration of their rights, to be solemnly confirmed for ever.

There has long been preserved in our British Museum an ancient Charter which purports to be that which John signed at Runnymede. It is part of the manuscript treasures so industriously collected by Sir Robert Cotton; there is a somewhat curious history of its discovery by Sir Robert at his tailor's, just when he was about to cut it into strips for measures. The story is related by Paul Colomies, who long resided in England; but the indefatigable historian of Magna Charta, Mr. Richard Thomson, inclines to doubt the truth of the Story, and prints a letter from Sir Edward Bering at Dover Castle, in 1630, to Sir Robert Cotton, in which he states that he possesses the document, and is about to send it to him. This famous parchment was much injured by the fire that took place at Westminster in 1731, and destroyed the building containing the Cottonian Library; it is greatly shrivelled and mutilated, and the seal reduced to a shapeless mass. Mr.Thomson is of opinion, that though this famous copy "has been considered of inferior authority to some others brought forward by the Record Commission, on account of its deficiency in certain words and sentences, which are added for insertion beneath the instrument, yet the same circumstance may very probably be a proof of its superior antiquity, as having been the first which was actually drawn into form and sealed at Runnymede; the original whence all the most perfect copies were taken. *
* The Charter purports to be given "under our hand at Runningmede, between Windsor and Staines." The signature of the king was in all probability "his mark", as was usual with the uneducated nobles of his era. It is a curious fact that no sign-manual of a British sovereign is known to exist before that of King Richard II. The usual sign-manual was a rude cross placed before the name written by some "learned clerk".
It was fortunately engraved in facsimile by Pine, before the fire had injured it; and one of the most important clauses is given in our woodcut; it is that which provides for the free and immediate dispensation of justice to all, in the words: —
"No freeman shall be seized or imprisoned, or dispossessed, or outlawed, or in any way destroyed; nor will we condemn him, nor will we commit him to prison, excepting by the legal judgment of his peers, or by the laws of the land." *

A CLAUSE OF MAGNA CHARTA

* The original abbreviated Latin would read in full thus: —

Nullus liber homo capiatur, vel imprisonatur, aut
dissaisiatur, aut utlageter, aut exuletur, aut aliquo modo
destruatur, nec super eam ibimus, nec super eam mittimus,
nisi per legale judicium parium suorum, vel per legem terrae

By this important clause the liberty and property of the subject were preserved until after open trial.
There is another fair copy of this document in the Cotton Library. The Record Commissioners, however, seem to attach most importance to that preserved in Lincoln Cathedral, which is supposed to be the one sent by Hugh, then Bishop of Lincoln, to be placed among the archives there. This is very carefully written, and contains all the words and sentences noted for insertion in the body of that preserved in the British Museum. There is another among the archives of Salisbury Cathedral, which is thought to be the one entrusted to Herbert Poore, the Bishop, or William Longespee, the Earl of Salisbury, for preservation there, in accordance with the old custom of placing copies of such important documents in the great clerical depositories. These are the only ancient examples of this great grant; but there are many early entries of it in old legal collections, reciting the whole of its clauses, and verifying their accuracy. These were confirmed by other English sovereigns; and the Great Charter was thus the foundation of English liberty.
It is to be regretted that no monument marks the spot, at Runnymede, where the rights and liberties of the people of England were maintained and secured, although several attempts have been made to raise one here. The very name, however, is a memory imperishable: the ait and meadow are places of pilgrimage to all who boast the Anglo-Saxon blood; and few are they who cross the Atlantic to visit Fatherland without offering homage to their great ancestors in this meadow of eternal fame — repeating, with raised and hearty voice, the lines of the poet: —

This is the place
Where England's ancient barons, clad in arms,
And stern with conquest, from their tyrant king
(Then render'd tame) did challenge and secure
The Charter of thy freedom. Pass not on
Till thou hast bless'd their memory, and paid
Those thanks which God appointed the reward
Of public virtue.

In the island which forms so charming a feature in the landscape, the Harcourts have built a small Gothic cottage — an altar-house, so to call it. It contains a large rough stone, which tradition, or fancy, describes as that on which the parchment rested when the king and the barons affixed their signatures to "the Charter". It has the following inscription:

Be it remembered that on this island,
in June, 1215,
King John of England signed
the Magna Charta;
and in the year 1834,
this building was erected in commemoration of that great event
by George Simon Harcourt, Esq.,
Lord of the Manor, and then High Sheriff of the County

COTTAGE OF MAGNA CHARTA ISLAND

RIVER COLNE

[ There are several streams called Coln(e):
The River Colne enters just above Staines Railway Bridge
The Colne Brook enters below Runnymede Bridge
A different River Colne enters by the Thames and Severn Canal at Lechlade. ]

A little below Ankerwyke, the Coln, which divides the counties of Buckingham and Middlesex, joins the Thames. The river rises near the small market town of Chesham, Bucks, and passing by Cherreys, waters the town of Rickmansworth, Herts, reaches Uxbridge, flows by the once famous village of Iver, refreshes the villages of Drayton and Harmondsworth, and, gathering strength, "goeth", to borrow from old Leland, "through goodly meadows to Colnbrook, and so to the Thames".

There is little to interest the voyager after he leaves this interesting neighbourhood, gradually losing sight of Cooper's Hill, until he approaches Staines; we have leisure, therefore, once again to admire the rich foliage of the river — that which ornaments its surface or decorates its banks. We direct the reader's attention to some of the objects that here gratify and instruct.

PERSICARIA

A pretty little weed that decks the still recesses of the river is the amphibious Persicaria (Polygonum amphibium), a plant that seems to thrive equally well on land or water; in the former situation being one of the most troublesome of weeds to the river-side farmer, but when it takes to the water forming one of its greatest ornaments; the green and red shaded leaves floating on the surface, above which rise the bright pink flower-spikes in groups, that wave and dance with every ripple of the water, are always pleasant and cheerful.

FORGET ME NOT

In no place do we remember to have met with that that most elegant of plants, the Forget-me-not (Myosotis palustris), in such beauty and luxuriance as in some of the fresh grassy nooks that we every now and then come upon in the course of our voyage. This is the true Forget-me- not, the Virgiss-mein-nicht of the Germans, with whom originated, if we mistake not, the romantic knight and lady story to which it owes its name — a name that is often given erroneously to other commoner and less beautiful species with small blue flowers. The glossy green foliage and thick waxen flowers of the true flower sufficiently distinguish it from others, independent of the scientific distinctions. In all European countries, but more especially in this country, the Forget-me-not has been a favoured theme of the poets. There is hardly one of them who has not made it a subject upon which to build some sweet theory of remembered friendship or love. It is attractive, not alone for its own peculiar grace and delicacy, but because it is found every where in England: there is no flower more "common", yet there are few more beautiful and none more suggestive.

THE LARGE FLOWERED WILLOW HERB

The tall, rosy-flowered plant that makes such a show among the river-side herbage, is the Large-flowered Willow Herb (Epilobium hirsutum), called by the country folks "Codlings and Cream", from a supposed resemblance to those luxuries in the smell of the young foliage of this herb. As cattle are fond of eating it, it has been recommended for cultivation as fodder in wet places where other useful plants will not grow, and where the willow herb flourishes luxuriantly. This is one of those conspicuous plants for form and colour that tell with such charming effect when introduced in the foreground of river pictures, in company with the dock-reeds, loose-strife, meadow-sweet, the yellow flag, and other water-nymphs so dear to the landscape-painter of the school of nature. Happily that school is increasing in numbers and in strength: happily, too, there is a growing disposition to avoid those evils which arise from a willingness to copy deformities rather than to seek and find beauty in combination with truth. We cannot too frequently impress on the artist the exceeding value of the charming and graceful "bits" he will continually encounter on the banks of the Thames.

THE CARP

While revelling among historic sites, and enjoying the rare banquet of foliage, of which Father Thames is so profusely lavish "hereabouts", we may not, however, forget that we have yet much to say of the fish that abound in his waters. The Carp and Tench are of his produce, although they are not found in quantities sufficient to tempt the angler, and do not often come to his bait. We describe them nevertheless, for they belong to our river. The common Carp (Cyprinus carpio) inhabits most of the ponds, lakes, and rivers of England, always preferring muddy to clear bottoms; it is very tenacious of life, and grows to an enormous size, sometimes weighing between fifteen and twenty pounds. The mouth is small, and has "no apparent teeth"; the body is covered with large scales; the general colour is a golden-olive brown, "head darkest"; the fins dark brown; the belly a yellowish white. In the "Boke of St. Albans", by Dame Juliana Berners, printed by Wynkyn de Worde in 1496, the carp is mentioned as a "deyntous fisshe"; and in the privy purse expenses of Henry VIII., in 1582, various entries are made of rewards to persons for bringing "carpes to the king". It is, however, not a native, although the period of its introduction to England is not ascertained. The Prussian carp is much smaller than the common carp. The carp with which we are most familiar is the "golden carp"; of late years it has become, so to speak, domesticated, and adds essentially to our home enjoyments in vases and drawing-room tanks, where it is usually associated with minnows and other "small fry" of the river being kept in health by water plants, which grow freely in comparative confinement. The date of the first introduction of "gold and silver fish" into England is "differently stated by authors", as 1611, 1691, and 1728. Yarrell does not attempt to fix the period. There is no doubt that they were first imported from China. In Portugal, and, indeed, elsewhere, they are completely naturalised, inhabiting many of the streams and rivers; it is probable they will be so ere long in England, for they breed freely in many of our ponds, and seem to require no especial care, either in winter or summer.
"The extreme elegance of the form of the golden carp, the splendour of their scaly covering, the ease and agility of their movements, and the facility with which they are kept alive in small vessels, place them among the most pleasing and desirable of our pets."
They become remarkably tame, frequently taking food from the hand, and appearing to distinguish clearly between an acquaintance and a stranger.

TENCH

TENCH

The Tench (Tinea vulgaris) differs essentially in character from the carp, although its habits are similar, frequenting the same localities, and delighting in muddy bottoms; its origin is also foreign; and it is exceedingly tenacious of life. The scales of the tench are small; the head is rather large and "blunt"; the general colour of the body is a greenish-olive gold, "lightest along the whole line of the under surface; the fins darker brown";
it grows sometimes to a large size, not unfrequently weighing from five to seven pounds. The angler finds it very difficult to make prey of this fish; they are usually shy, and "take to the mud" when alarmed; occasionally they bite freely, we have ourselves taken out of a pond five or six dozen in a day, each of the average weight of three pounds; finding on that occasion a small pellet of new bread the most effective bait. Yarrell, however, states that
"the best bait for them is the dark red meadow worm",
and that the time when they are most readily taken is '"early morning". They are not numerous in the Thames, and are there never fished for expressly, although every now and then one will make acquaintance with an angler's hook. The Thames, however, as we have often said, has other fish besides the carp and tench to tempt the brethren of the gentle craft.

THE BOUNDARY STONE WTSWG

THE BOUNDARY STONE

We are now approaching the ancient town of Staines; — its bridge and its church steeple are in sight; but before we reach them there is an object standing on one of the aits that claims our especial attention. We must step ashore to examine it, for it is the Boundary Stone of the City of London; and here its jurisdiction ends — or did end, we should rather say, for by a recent enactment all its rights and privileges, as regard the river Thames, were transferred to "a Commission".
The conservancy of the river Thames was vested in the Lord Mayor and Corporation of the City of London by long prescription, confirmed by various charters and acts of parliament. Apart from the Courts of Conservancy, which were held by the Lord Mayor in person, attended by the Recorder and other officers, with much state, most of the administrative duties of Conservator of the Thames have long been performed by a committee of the corporation, known as the "Navigation and Port of London Committee", consisting of twelve Aldermen and twenty-nine Common Councilmen. Their jurisdiction extended from Staines, in Middlesex, to Yantlet, in Kent. Their duties were to prevent encroachments on the bed and soil of the river, or anything being done on its banks to impede navigation; to regulate the moorings of vessels in the port, deepen the channel, erect and maintain public stairs, keep in repair the locks, weirs, and towing paths, regulate the fisheries, and seize unlawful nets, &c. In the performance of these duties they were aided by four harbour-masters, an engineer, water-bailiff, and other officials appointed by the corporation.
The revenue arose principally from two sources, viz. the tonnage dues on ships frequenting the port, and the tolls paid by vessels passing through the locks, or using the landing-piers. The corporation also received, not as conservators of the river, but as owners of its bed and soil, rents for wharfs, piers, and landing-places, which they granted licences to erect. The produce of the tonnage dues was about £18,000 per annum — a sum more than sufficient to cover the expenses charged upon them, as the corporation were in possession of a surplus of about £90,000; but as the application of these dues was, by act of parliament, strictly limited to the river below London Bridge, no benefit could be derived from the possession of such surplus to the upper portion of the river, where the amount received from tolls was small, and, in consequence of the great competition of the railways with the carrying trade of the river, had latterly become so much diminished as to fall far short of the annual expense.

Notwithstanding the difficulty in which the corporation were placed, with a surplus below bridge, which they were unable to appropriate, and a deficiency above bridge, which they had no means of making good but by pledging their corporate estates — they have shown no hesitation in the performance of the duty cast upon them. Meanwhile circumstances had arisen to prevent that efficient management of the Thames which it has ever been the constant object of the corporation to secure. A claim was set up by the crown to the bed and soil of the river. The right to the conservancy of the Thames had been contested in the time of Queen Elizabeth, by the then Lord High Admiral, and decided in favour of the city; but the right to the bed and soil of the sea-shore, and of navigable rivers, between high and low-water mark, is comparatively a recent claim on the part of the crown. A bill was filed against the corporation to enforce this claim, and requiring them to show their title; and after protracted proceedings, extending over a period of thirteen years, a compromise was effected. The city, with a view to the interests of the public, consented to acknowdedge the title of the crown to the bed and soil of the river, and the crown consented to grant a title to the corporation, stipulating, at the same time, that a scheme, suggested by Government for the future management of the river, should be adopted and embodied in an act of parliament, which act has recently come into operation.
The Thames Conservancy Act, 1857, placed the authority over the river Thames — within the limits of the ancient jurisdiction of the city — in a board consisting of twelve persons, viz. the Lord Mayor for the time being, two Aldermen, and four Common Councilmen, elected by the Court of Common Council, the Deputy-master of the Trinity House, two persons chosen by the Admiralty, one by the Board of Trade, and one by the Trinity House. The members are severally to remain in office for five years, unless otherwise removed, and are eligible for re-election. The revenue arising from the tonnage dues below bridge, and the tolls and other receipts above bridge, together, form one fund for the management and improvement of the navigation of the river; and of the receipts arising from embankments, or other appropriation of the bed and soil, one-third is paid to the crown, and the remaining two-thirds added to the general fund above mentioned.

Thus was almost regal authority, enjoyed for ages by the citizens of London, and exercised by their chief magistrate and corporation in a spirit of munificent liberality that did honour to their administration, quietly supplanted and absorbed by the greater power of the crown. Our hope is, that public interest may not suffer by the change. Those who have visited the Thames above "the city stone" cannot fail to lament that the whole of the river has not been under their jurisdiction: between Staines and London all matters have been admirably and liberally managed; from Staines upwards they have been shamefully neglected. There are numerous "Boards of Conservancy" from Cricklade downwards, not one of which seems to have the least idea of cleansing the river, repairing its banks, or facilitating its navigation and traffic. If we are to judge of other "reforms" which the corporation of the metropolis is doomed to undergo by this reformation of the conservancy of the Thames, we fear we may not anticipate a change that will be advantageous.
It is to be hoped that the "improving" spirit of the age will not proceed so far as to remove this ancient boundary mark; but that the inscription it still retains — "God preserve the City of London" — will be uttered as a fervent prayer by generations yet to come: for, of a truth, upon the prosperity of the metropolis of England depends the welfare of the kingdom.

STAINES

Staines — or, as it is written in old records, Stanes — is on the Middlesex side of the river, — a busy and populous town, with a venerable and picturesque church.

STAINES BRIDGE WTSWG

STAINES BRIDGE

A handsome bridge connects it with the county of Surrey, from whence there are direct roads to Windsor, Egham, and Chertsey. This bridge was erected in 1832, George Rennie being the engineer. It was opened in state by their Majesties King William IV. and Queen Adelaide.
"The bridge consists principally of three extremely flat, segmental arches of granite, the middle arch being of seventy-four feet span, and the lateral ones sixty-six feet each: there are also two adjoining semicircular arches, each ten feet in the span, for towing-paths. Besides these, there are six brick arches of twenty feet in the span, two on the Surrey side and four in Middlesex, to admit the water to flow off during land-floods."
Our engraving is taken from "above bridge", and underneath one of the arches is seen the comfortable little inn, "The Swan", well known to all brethren of the craft, and especially those who frequent "Staines Deep", *
* "Deeps" are portions of the river staked and otherwise protected, in order to prevent the use of nets, and so to facilitate the sport of the angler, for whose especial benefit they are formed. Usually old boats are sunk in these deeps: the fish collect about them, and cannot be removed by any "coarse" process.
The deeps between Staines and Richmond have all been formed at the expense of the Corporation of London: to them, therefore, Thames anglers have long been, and will long be, largely indebted. To the angler, at all events, the transfer of power from the Lord Mayor to the Commission is a subject of regret; and he is a recreant brother, who, obtaining a day's sport in any of the "deeps" will fail to repeat the prayer of the boundary stone — "God preserve the City of London".
where, during the autumn months, abundance of large roach will usually reward the pleasant toil of the punt-fisher.
Staines was the site of one of the earliest bridges in England. The Roman road to the west crossed the Thames here, and the Roman station at this place is called in the Itinerary of Antoninus, Pontes, so that even then there was a bridge across the river. The Roman bridges in England seem to have been most commonly wooden, supported on stone piers. Perhaps the remains of the latter may have given the place its name.

PENTON HOOK LOCK WTSWG

The river proceeds hence between low banks, which are frequently inundated during winter, until we reach the lock at "Penty-Hook" — Penton-Hook — an artificial passage by which boats are enabled to avoid a "long round" of a mile or so. But he who voyages for pleasure will find this ancient passage very desirable: it is generally an entire solitude; water-birds revel here; butterflies are always numerous; the Thames trout is seldom absent from its tiny breaks and waterfalls; and the Abbey river is one of its tributaries, suggestive of memories when the monks of Chertsey had here their productive fisheries, which kept their ponds and preserves continually full.
This retired and tranquil branch of our dear river is in high favour with the angler; and perhaps there is no single nook of the Thames, from its rise to its fall, where he can receive so large a recompence of quiet pleasure. Does he "scrape" for gudgeon? — here he will find a dozen "pitches", each of which yields enough for a day. Will he try his skill among the roach and dace, baiting with a single gentle a "No.12" hook mounted on a single hair, and a somewhat heavy float — for the stream hereabouts is deep and rapid? — he is either a poor craftsman, or will be singularly unfortunate, if he do not basket his ten dozen before he issues from the bend into the main current. Does he covet the "big" chub? — let him throw his mimic grub under any one of those overhanging willows, and the chances are he will hook one of more than three pounds' weight. But, especially — is he a barbel fisher, and has the luck to have Galloway aiding and assisting his sport? — he is sure to catch more than he will like to carry home, if he has to walk from the bank to the railway. Galloway, who lives close to Chertsey — or, as he will tell you, "Chersy" — bridge, is one of the best fishermen on the Thames, and if any day in his company be not a good day, the fault will not be his; for he knows not only every pitch, but every stone of the river between his own immediate locality and a few miles above it and below it. He is not only an experienced and intelligent, but a most obliging and "pains-taking" guide and counsellor, and seems always to consider that ample sport is ever a part of his contract, — so, as we have said, if the evening bring disappointment, the cause has been beyond his control But if a neophyte visit the Thames in search of sport, whose line is strong enough, and hook big enough, to snare and land a Severn salmon, — if his shot are swan-shot, and his float a pretty toy, and his rod bends like a reed in a storm, or is as stiff and straight as a "poplar tree" — what then can Galloway do?— what but shrug his shoulders, gently hint that the water is too clear or too thick for sport, and grumble "under breath" a wish that such brutal tackle were in "Norroway". And to this heavy affliction he is often doomed; while the "angler" seeks the train with a light load, and growls his discontent against the liberality of the bountiful Father, who has only refused reward to a bungler in the art.
Let the true angler, who knows his art and loves it, spend a day with Galloway at Penty-Hook, and we assure him of a day's enjoyment such as he will rarely find elsewhere, or in other company; for Galloway is full of Story such as the fisherman likes to hear and tell.

THE

THE BARBEL

The barbel loves quiet; in this locality he always finds it, and Galloway knows his haunts and his habits well. The Barbel (Barbus vulgaris) is said to be so called from the barbs or wattles attached to its mouth. It feeds on slugs, worms, and small fish, and is therefore always found at the bottom. It is a poor fish "for the table", and no mode of "dressing" that we have ever heard of can make it tolerable as a dish; yet large quantities are sold in the London markets, principally (why we could never ascertain) to the Jews. In the Thames, and also in other rivers, they grow to a large size, sometimes weighing as much as fifteen or sixteen pounds; and when they are "on the feed", which is usually during the autumn months, when the weed begins to rot, it is no uncommon thing for the angler to catch upwards of a hundredweight in the course of a day. We have ourselves achieved this feat several times; and once, under Teddington Weir, killed two fish, each of which weighed ten pounds and a half: for confirmation of this fact we refer any sceptic to James Kemp — one of the Kemps of Teddington, to whom we shall make reference in due course. The usual practice is to fish for barbel with "the ledger"; it is, however, "a custom more honoured in the breach, than the observance", — for it gives the angler nothing to do except to watch the running out of his reel, and to "haul in", as if a stone were fastened to his line. By this mode, a large piece of lead is attached to the line within about two feet from the hook; the hook being baited with a large lob-worm, it is then thrown in, and the barbel '"runs away" with it, literally hooking himself, for the weight acts as a check. This is, however, coarse and clumsy fishing, for a fish worth little or nothing when it is caught. Far otherwise is it when the barbel is hooked with a very small hook, mounted on line gut, or it may be the single hair of roach tackle: then the strong fellow gives ample "play", and probably half an hour will necessarily pass before the landing-net is in requisition, and he is safely deposited in the well of the punt — especially when the water is deep and the current strong.
To us, our days of barbel fishing are pleasant and very healthful memories — the truest luxuries of an active and busy life; and although we have killed trout in the rivers and lochs of Ireland and of Scotland, and salmon under the beautiful fall of Doonas, on the mighty Shannon, we recur with greater pleasure to those hours of repose and relaxation we have passed at Penty-Hook, when winding up and letting out a line, to the end of which was attached a stout and strong barhel of some seven pounds — our assured property from the moment the hook entered his leathern mouth.

LALEHAM WTSWG

LALEHAM FERRY

From Penty-Hook there is nothing to interest the voyager until he reaches the pretty Ferry at Laleham. He may, if he pleases, step ashore at the clean and neat ferry-house here pictured, and either dine on the bank, or in one of the small rooms, to which access is readily obtained. In any case, he will do well to look about him. The steeple of a church adds its eloquent grace to a pleasing although flat landscape: it is the church at Laleham. On the opposite side is the square tower of Chertsey Church. Cattle are feeding on the luxuriant grass in Chertsey Mead, or cooling themselves in the shallow stream; the ferryboat is conveying foot passengers only, for the river here is not deep, and a mounted traveller may cross it, swimming merely the small "bit" that forms the channel of the barges. Rising just above him is St. Anne's Hill — so long the happy and quiet home of Charles James Fox, and now the property of his descendant, Lord Holland. Looking eastward, he has in view the wooded rise of Woburn, and further on that of Oatlands.

CHERTSEY WTSWG

CHERTSEY BRIDGE

Immediately beside the banks, however, there is nothing to claim attention until he arrives at Chertsey Lock, right under which, apparently (for there is here a fall of some magnitude) is Chertsey Bridge.
Let us step ashore, and, having refreshed ourselves at "The Chequers", — the inn pictured in our print, — walk a mile or so to visit Chertsey town.
We are arriving at Chertsey, in the evening, after a pleasant day at Penty-Hook: it is eight o'clock; we hear the chimes of the curfew, heard very rarely in England now-a-days, but in the quiet little town, of small traffic and no manufacture, the ancient custom is still maintained, the curfew tolling so many times to denote the day of the month — once for the first, and thirty times for the thirtieth. *
* The ringing of the curfew is one of the oldest of English customs. Though popularly believed to have been introduced by William the Conqueror, it was more probably an ancient usage as a precaution against fire, in remote days of defective local rule, when houses were chiefly built of wood, and fires were frequent. The curfew, or couvre-feu, itself was a metal case, which closed over the wood ashes and extinguished them. Eight o'clock was the hour at which all persons were enjoined to put out fires and lights and retire to bed. On the continent the custom was general.
We pass the church, part ancient, and part new: if we enter it, it will be to see a beautiful bas-relief by Flaxman of the raising of Jairus's daughter.

CHERTSEY ABBEY

It is behind the church — between it and the river — we shall find the remains of once and long-famous Chertsey Abbey. These remains consist of a few stone walls, the graveyard, now a rich garden, and the fish-ponds, which even to-day hold water, by which cattle of the adjacent farm are refreshed. The abbey was founded a.d. 666, and held almost imperial rule over numerous villages, extending its "paternal sway" into Middlesex, and even so far as London, where its mitred abbot had a "fair lodging". It was of the Benedictine order, its foundation being almost coeval with the conversion of the Saxons by Erchenwald, first abbot of Chertsey, and afterwards Bishop of London. ( Gradually it grew to be one of the wealthiest and most powerful abbeys of the kingdom, fostered and endowed by nearly every English monarch, from the Conqueror down, until the eighth Henry dissolved it, and gave its rich possessions to the Abbey of Bisham, which, having enjoyed them for a time, relinquished them in turn to various "civilians and laymen".
Chertsey Abbey received the remains of the pious but unhappy Henry VI., —

Poor key-cold figure of a holy king,
Pale ashes of the house of Lancaster, —

subsequently interred at Windsor. Its glory extended far and near; its jurisdiction in Surrey was almost unlimited; its wealth was prodigious; its abbot ranked with princes — and ruled them. It is now difficult to trace its site; of the enormous and very beautiful pile, scarcely one stone remains upon another. Those who delve the adjacent ground rarely do so without disinterring long-buried bones: indications of its ancient glories now and then present themselves — broken capitals, stone coffins, encaustic tiles, and fragments of painted glass; but Chertsey Abbey is little more than an historic memory. Our engraving exhibits all of it that yet remains.

REMAINS OF CHERTSEY ABBEY

THE GOLDEN GROVE

If the visitor has time, he will stroll through the town to visit St. Anne's Hill, and do pilgrimage to the home, and lawns, and gardens, and quaint summer-houses, and lonely walks so closely associated with the memory of Charles James Fox. On his way he will pass "the Golden Grove" where lives one to whom many owe a debt for large enjoyment and mnch instruction — Sir George Smart. Directly fronting his plain and simple house is the famous oak-tree, which no doubt the monks planted near to one of their out-dwellings, which still bears the name of Monk's Grove.

GATEWAY TO FOX'S HOUSE

Let him pause awhile at the gate of wrought-iron, at the entrance to the dwelling of Charles James Fox, and walk to the summit of the hill, from which, on a clear day, he may obtain a view of St. Paul's, — although distant twenty miles and more. The view is indeed glorious and beautiful from this charming height — Windsor on the one side, London on the other. A slight descent leads him into a close and thick wood, at the bottom of which is a picturesque "bit" — St. Anne's Well, a relic of the chapel that once existed here, and was probably erected when the abbey was founded, twelve centuries ago.

ST. ANNE'S WELL

We return to Chertsey, and passing up its main street, stand before a quaint old building, where a good and benevolent clergyman now resides — the Rev. John Clark, the son of the long distinguished Chamberlain of London:

COWLEY'S HOUSE

the house is the Porch House, in which the poet Cowley lived, and where he died on the 28th July, 1667. He was interred in Westminster Abbey; his body having been conveyed in a funeral barge upon the waters of the Thames he loved so well —

What tears the river shed,
When the sad pomp along his banks was led!

A throng of nobles followed him to his grave; and the worthless king he had served, and by whom he had been deserted, is reported to have said that he had not left a better man behind him in England. Although "the Porch" — from whence it received its name, "the Porch House" - was long ago removed, Cowley's house retains much of its original character. The room in which he died is still intact, and a group of trees — Cowley's Seat — flourish in vigorous age.

COWLEY'S SEAT

ADDLESTONE

We may not extend our visit, although a drive through the pretty village of Addlestone — joining the railroad there — would be a worthy finish to a long summer's day of pleasure. *
* The whole of this district has been fully described by Mrs. S. C. Hall, in "Pilgrimages to English Shrines"; and the reader who desires to know more concerning it is referred to that volume. We have introduced two of the prints by which it is illustrated, in order to make more clear our details concerning St. Anne's Hill, and the residence of Charles James Fox.

THE RIVER WEY WTSWG

We return to Chertsey Bridge, and resume our voyage downward, admiring, as we pass, the pleasant woods and wooded heights of Woburn, and welcoming another of the river's many tributaries — the Wey, which joins the Thames a mile or so below the bridge at Chertsey. The Wey rises in Hampshire, about a mile from Alton — "famous for ale". It passes through Farnham, Godalming, Guildford, Woking, Byfleet, and Weybridge, where it is joined by a small streamlet — the Bourne, and also by the Basingstoke Canal. The junction of the three streams is so picturesque that we supply an engraving of the scene.

THE WEY BRIDGE

CHERTSEY MEAD

Following their course to the Thames margin, let us now glance at Chertsey Mead, which, it is said, produces the best hay in England; and where, during a large part of the year, there is right of commonage, of which the neighbouring farmers avail themselves to fatten cows that supply London with pure milk.

SHEPPERTON LOCK WTSWG

The Wey enters the Thames at a mill in the curve of the stream, but the ordinary course for boats is to the lock at Shepperton. The woody grounds of Oatlands now begin to rise on the right, and a short distance to the left is Shepperton Church and village.

SHEPPERTON CHURCH

Close to the river are the house and grounds of W. S. Lindsay, Esq., M.P. Some fine trees hang over his boat-house. These grounds are, perhaps, the most beautiful to be met with all along the river-banks: those who have taste as well as riches have always the power to give to others a large share of the luxuries they themselves obtain from wealth. The distance to Shepperton by water from Chertsey Bridge is about four miles; but the direct way by land is not more than a mile and a quarter. Another turn of the river brings us to Lower Halliford.

COWAY STAKES WTSWG

The river is now free of any striking feature until we approach the long bridge at Walton: the village is half a mile inland, and hidden from view. At a sharp turn of the river before we reach the bridge is Coway Stakes.

COWAY STAKES

Our sketch is taken from the bridge, looking back toward Weybridge Church, its tall spire and the high land of Oatlands Park being the chief features of the view. The small arch in the foreground is a waterway. Between this point and the two dark trees of the middle distance, still lie under the Thames all that remain of the stakes which, tradition says, are those that impeded Caesar.When the water is low and clear, some of the fragments, it is said, may still he seen imbedded in the clay; others have been taken from the river, black with age, but still sound.
Caesar has left a circumstantial account of his battle here with the British tribes.

It occurred B.C.64, on his second visit to our island, when, satisfied of the insincerity of submission of the natives to Roman rule, he resolved to penetrate father than he had hitherto done, and quell opponents under the command of Cassivellaunus, He narrates the sort of guerilla warfare the Britons carried on against his forces, by continually harassing them in small parties,
"so that one squadron relieved another", he says, "and our men, who had been contending against those who were exhausted, suddenly found themselves engaged with a fresh body who had taken their place."
He accordingly determined to come to a general engagement, and invade the territory of Cassivellaunus. He describes leading his army towards the Thames to ford the river, which he says could only be passed on foot in one place, and that with difficulty. He had gained intelligence from prisoners and deserters that his passage was here to be disputed: when he arrived at the river, he perceived a large force on the opposite bank drawn up to oppose him;
"the bank moreover was planted with sharp stakes, and others of the same kind were fixed in the bed of the river, beneath the water."
But nothing could restrain the impetuosity of his legionaries, who dashed into the river, and drove off the Britons.

The venerable Bede notes that these stakes "are seen to this day, about the thickness of a man's thigh, stuck immovable, being driven hard into the bottom of the river";
and Camden, in his "Britannia", says of Oatlands,
"It is a proper house of the king's, and offreth itself to be scene within a park; near unto which Caesar passed over Thames."
He then narrates the event, concluding by saying, "In this thing I cannot be deceived, considering that the river here is scarce six foot deep. The place at this day of these stakes is called Coway Stakes; and Caesar maketh the borders of Cassivellaunus, where he setteth down his passage over the river, to be about fourscore Italian miles from the sea which beateth upon the east coast of Kent, where he landed, and at the very same distance is this passage of ours.
In the time of Caesar there can be no doubt that the whole of the low land about here was a swamp, and the Britons secured themselves in the rude earthworks they had constructed in the woody land which overlooked the river. There are intrenchments of this sort on St. George's Hill, at Weybridge, and also on St. Anne's Hill, Chertsey. There are traces of others at Wimbledon, proving that this range of elevations was made use of for defence. We have mentioned the old hill camp which formed one of the defences of the Cotswold Hills; and here we may properly devote a brief space to a consideration of the early inhabitants of the banks of the Thames.
When Caesar visited Britain, the old Celtic population was considerably intermixed with the Belgae, who had taken possession of the richest parts of South Britain, and kept up a close alliance with the Gaulish traders, to whom the people of the Kentish coast greatly assimilated. Strabo slightly describes the personal appearance of the old Britons, in their long dark garments fastened round the waist, and long hair and beards. Herodotus and Pliny speak of their puncturing and staining their bodies with the juice of herbs, as a mark of noble descent. Caesar notes that they were "clad with skins; all the Britons stain themselves with woad, which gives a blue colour, and imparts a ferocious aspect in battle; they have long flowing hair, and do not shave the upper lip". *
* Of the various native tribes noted by Ptolemy, the Dobuni occupied Gloucestershire and Oxfordshire; the Belgae, Wiltshire and Hampshire; the Attrebates, Berkshire; and the Trinobantes, the greater part of Middlesex and Essex. Kent was held by the Cantii, a large and influential tribe which, as early as the time of Caesar, was subdivided among four ruling chieftains.

The river Thames has preserved, as if in a museum, some relics of its ancient masters.

ANTIQUITIES FROM THE THAMES

Our engraving exhibits a group of antiquities found in the stream, and upon its banks. Of these the early British shield of bronze, with its great central boss, and double row of smaller ones, was dredged up from the river between Little Wittenham and Dorchester, a neighbourhood that formed the site of several hostile engagements. *
* At the junction of the rivers here, still remain the intrenchments of the early Britons.
The leaf-shaped bronze sword was found also in the river near Vauxhall, and is remarkable for its similarity to the early Greek weapons found at Pompeii. The other antiquities of the group belong to the Saxon period, and the banks of the Thames are rich in such memorials.
The other objects depicted were discovered in tumuli on the high land at Long Wittenham, in Oxfordshire. The umbo, or boss, at the right corner of the group, was originally fixed on the large wooden shield adopted by the Saxons. At Dorchester, many remarkable antiquities have been found: among the rest a large brooch, richly ornamented.

SAXON PERSONAL ORNAMENTS

The more ordinary decorations for the person generally found in Saxon tumuli are exhibited in our second group, consisting of brooches and hair-pins found at Fairford and Long Wittenham. Three varieties of the former have been selected; they are all of bronze, the central one being of the most ordinary form. That to the left is cup-shaped, the surface decorated with raised ornament, which has been strongly gilt. That to the right is formed of white metal, decorated with incised ornament, and washed with silver; a pin behind assisted in securing them to the dress. The hair-pins crossed at the back of the central brooch are also of bronze, having pendent rings attached to the upper part of each, one being slightly ornamented. With them were found finger-rings, consisting of a flat coil of bronze, beads of clay in variegated colours, and a variety of smaller articles for personal decoration, showing some considerable amount of refinement in the wearers.
The inhabitants of Middlesex and Kent appear, however, to have been always in advance of the Saxons of the inland counties, which may be ascribed to their connection with the continental traders, and their superior wealth. The contents of their tumuli indicate a higher refinement, and a different taste in decoration. Antiquaries are now beginning to classify the Saxon tribes in England with much certainty, by the data afforded by these relics from their last resting-places.
Such were the people — progenitors of a race destined to establish the name and customs of Anglo-Saxons over the whole world. In thus tracing them to their source, we find much that is worthy of study in their life on the banks of the Thames "in the old time before us". Scattered among their graves are instructive illustrations of their history not to be found in the pages of the chronicler, but worthy of note; and in our descent of the stream we shall yet have to note the relics of their brethren, which also testify to their history as clearly as do the more enduring monuments of stone to the histories of classic nations.

WALTON WTSWG

Before we pass under the bridge at Walton, we are called upon to leave the boat, and walk a brief distance to visit the village and the church: both are full of interest. In the village is the house of the President Bradshaw; at Ashley Park, not far distant, the Protector is said to have some time resided; at Hersham, in the vicinity, lived William Lilly, the astrologer, —

A cunning man, hyght Sidrophel,
That deals in Destiny's dark counsels,
And sage opinions of the moon sells, —

and his remains lie in Walton Church.
On St. George's Hill is an ancient encampment of considerable size, which, although of date anterior to the Romans, was, as we have intimated, probably occupied by Caesar when preparing for his struggle with the Britons, under Cassivellaunus; and it may be safely conjectured that his legions passed from this height into the valley to cross the Thames at Coway Stakes — "ea celeritate atque impetu". From the summit of this hill is obtained one of the most striking and magnificent views to be found anywhere in England, extending not only over Middlesex and Surrey, but into Buckinghamshire, Hertfordshire, Essex, Kent, and even Sussex.

INTERIOR OF BRADSHAW'S HOUSE

Bradshaw's house is now in a dilapidated state, inhabited by poor persons, but it retains several indications of its ancient grandeur; a chimney-piece is shown in the appended engraving; it is one of the remaining ornaments of a wainscoted chamber, in which, probably, "the regicides" often sate in council; there is a village tradition that here the signatures were affixed to the death-warrant of the king.

WALTON CHURCH

WALTON CHURCH

We must enter the church, and
— having examined a gorgeously-sculptured tomb, of much artistic value, from the chisel of Roubiliac, to the memory of Viscount Shannon
— "the fair black marble stone" that records the name of "the astrologer"
— the white tablet that marks the grave of Henry Skene, the tourist
— the singular monument to John Selwyn, whose heroic achievement of killing a stag after having leaped upon his back, in the presence of Queen Elizabeth, is commemorated in "a brass", now let into the wall
— Chantrey's beautiful statue of a mourner leaning on a sarcophagus, to the memory of "Christopher D'Oyley"
— we may criticise an object no less interesting as a record of the olden time — it is "the scold's bridle", one of the few "examples" yet remaining in England. It bears the date 1633, and the following inscription, —

Chester presents Walton with a bridle,
To curb women's tongues when they are idle, —

and was presented to the parish by the person whose name it bears, because he had lost an estate "through the instrumentality of a gossipping, lying woman". Its construction and mode of fastening are shown in the engraving; when locked, a flat piece of iron enters the mouth, and effectually keeps down the "unruly member".

SCOLD'S BRIDLE

The venerable church, has, therefore, several objects of interest, — we can name but few of them; yet we may not forget that in the adjacent graveyard was interred, some eighteen or twenty years ago, one

Who blazed,
The comet of a season,

an eloquent writer, a brilliant wit, a man of large knowledge and extensive learning; his grave is without a mark; we had a difficulty in finding the secluded spot in which he lies: yet there are many who remember "William Maginn", perhaps with more of admiration than respect, and who will grieve that no stone distinguishes the place in which he rests "after life's fever".

WALTON BRIDGE WTSWG

We again make our way to the Thames, and join our boat, passing under the long and narrow bridge here pictured, from a sketch by W. E. Bates.

WALTON BRIDGE

It is, in fact, a sort of double bridge, a second set of arches being carried over a low tract of ground, south of the principal bridge which crosses the river. From this bridge there is a pleasant view of the Thames, above and below, Coway Stakes being immediately beneath us,

OATLANDS

and the new "villa-planted" demesne of "Oatlands" rising gracefully from its banks. *
* Oatlands is now "a village" of handsome houses, many of them with charming gardens and grounds. A large hotel has been recently erected, and is, we understand, exceedingly well conducted and made comfortable to visitors: the vicinity yields in attraction to none; it is distant fifteen miles by railway (the South-Western) from London. The palace at Oatlands, in which dwelt Henry VIII., Queen Elizabeth, the Consort of James I., the Queen of Charles I., and the Queen of Charles II., has long since disappeared; its site being occupied by a modern mansion, which became the property of the Duke of York, was at his death purchased by Mr. Ball Hughes, known as "the Golden Ball", and, having passed through "various hands", has been divided into "building lots".

The famous grotto still remains: it was constructed at great cost for the Duke of Newcastle, by three persons — a father and two sons— who were employed in the work during several years. It consists of five chambers, the sides and roofs of which are encrusted with spars, ores, shells, and crystals. In a little dell adjacent are several stones, numbering, perhaps, sixty or seventy: they are the gravestones of pet dogs, — the pets of Her Royal Highness the Duchess of York, — and many of them have appropriate inscriptions. The Duchess died at Oatlands, in 1820, and was interred at Weybridge Church, where a monument was erected to her memory, with a beautifully sculptured figure by Chantrey. That old church has been taken down, and a new and very graceful structure built a few yards from its site. Chantrey's monument has been re-erected in the new church; but the vault, originally in the transept, is now in the churchyard. The tall spire of Weybridge Church is seen from all parts of the adjacent country.

BREAM

We must pause awhile in "the deep" immediately under it [ Walton Bridge ], for it is famous fishing ground; and here, perhaps more than in any other part of the Thames, the angler finds the bream abundant.

THE BREAM

The Bream (Abramis brama) inhabits most of the lakes and rivers of England, but appears to be found in the Thames only in special localities: often as we have fished in the glorious river, we have never yet caught one except in that part of it which we are now describing. The bream is often killed in large numbers, and frequently of weight between two and four pounds; sometimes much heavier. It is, however, a poor fish — a degree worse than the barbel, as food; although Izaak quotes, in reference to it, a French proverb, to the effect that "he who hath bream in his pond is able to bid his friend welcome"; and Chaucer considers it worthy of note, as among the preparations for a feast: —

Full many a fair partrich hadde he in mewe,
And many a bream and many a luce in stewe.

The fish is flat and broad; the tail being long and "deeply forked". The colour is yellowish white. *
* There is a good and experienced, as well as a very civil and ever-ready fisherman here, — J. Rogerson, — whose cottage adjoins the bridge, and whose punts are moored at the adjacent bank. Besides the bream which abound In this locality, there is a good barbel pitch close at hand, and the roach and dace are plentiful enough to give assurance of a day's sport. The inns at Walton are "comfortable" for anglers.

SUNBURY WTSWG

Passing between low lands for the distance of about two miles, we arrive at Sunbury. *
* In ancient records this place is called Sunnabyri, Sunneberie, Suneberie, &c. Sunnabyri is composed of two Saxon words — sunna, the sun, and byri, a town — and may be supposed to denote a place exposed to the sun, or with a southern aspect."- Lysons.
— a pretty village on the Middlesex side.

SUNBURY.

There is a weir of considerable length, and lower down a lock: the lock has been recently constructed on "scientific principles" — the waters being raised and lowered by machinery, but the effect of the "improvement" is to embarrass and delay the voyager. *

* "About a mile below Sunbury Lock there is a turn on the left bank, or a back-water meeting the river again, but the course of the river lies to the right bank, and the water runs very sharp. This part of the river is called 'Cane Edge', and the stream from this part up is known as 'Sunbury Race'." — The Oarsman's Guide.

MOULSEY WTSWG

Flat and uninteresting are the meadows that stretch away from the Surrey bank of the Thames, as we voyage below Sunbury. Tall osiers, for the most part, shut out all distant views from the water. The villages of West and East Moulsey succeed in their turn. Between the former village and the river lies the low open tract, or common, known as Moulsey Hurst, and memorable chiefly in the annals of pugilistic encounters and horse-racing. East Moulsey has very rapidly increased during the last few years. Fine trees have disappeared, and rows of genuine suburban residences have sprung up in their places. A new church of an agreeable aspect has been added to the group, near the Hurst; and opposite to the Palace of Hamilton Court, the terminus of the railway, and a cluster of hotels have established themselves. The old church of East Moulsey is small, and belongs altogether to a period in which Moulsey itself was simply a country village, and had not yet risen to the dignity of a metropolitan railway station.

HAMPTON WTSWG

Situated on the Middlesex side of the Thames, the village of Hampton rises from the river's edge, and its long series of villas, with their orderly looking trees and well-kept gardens, with here and there a fishing cottage peering from beneath thick masses of overhanging foliage, skirt the stream. At the entrance into Hampton from Sunbury there are several good houses, that stand back at some little distance from the Thames;

and in front of them the water-towers and other buildings of the London and Hampton works, for the supply of the metropolis with water, have been recently erected. An attempt has been made to impart an architectural character to these edifices, but they present a very questionable appearance after all. The passage across the water from Moulsey Hurst is effected by means of a truly primitive ferry-boat.

Immediately adjoining the landing-place stands Hamilton Church, occupying a commanding position on rising ground. To the edifice, however, unhappily may be assigned a "bad pre-eminence", as being among the very worst examples of the church-building of thirty years since. At that period the old church was pulled down, and the present wretched affair was erected at great cost. The village extends for some distance from the river towards the north; and at about a mile from the church in that direction it has very recently expanded into a second village, which bears the name of New Hampton. From the New Hampton road, Bushy Park extends to Kingston and Teddington, and for the space of half a mile it reaches almost to the river's side, below the Hampton Villas.

GARRICK'S VILLA WTSWG

GARRICK'S VILLA

Of these residences the most striking is "Garrick's Villa", once the property and the favourite residence of the great master of histrionic art. The garden, like its neighbours, abuts upon the river: but the house stands beyond the road, and, consequently, it is separated from the water-side part of its grounds: a communication, however, suggested by Dr. Johnson, exists in the form of a very picturesque short tunnel under the road. Here, beneath a weeping willow that droops gracefully into the water, stands "the Grecian rotunda, with an Ionic portico" (it is really a little octagonal water-side summerhouse), which in Garrick's time gave shelter to Roubiliac's statue of Shakspere, that has since been promoted to the Hall of the British Museum. *
* The "Temple of Shakspere", as Garrick called this building, was constructed expressly for Roubiliac's statue, a commission from the actor to the artist, who did his utmost to produce a good work — to his own loss; for Garrick, with his usual tact at driving a bargain, gave little more than would pay for the model and the marble. The artist was also subjected to the meddlesome taste of the actor, whose vanity was unbounded, and who threw himself into the affected posture of poetic inspiration, which he insisted the statue should exhibit. When the work was finished, the sculptor executed a new head, as Garrick demurred at a faint vein of colour in the marble. The only portrait of Roubiliac we possess represents him working enthusiastically on this statue, which he certainly desired to make his chef-d'oeuvre. It passed to the British Museum, by Garrick's desire, on the death of his widow.

The river bends slightly towards the south as it flows eastward, before it changes its course below Hampton Court for a northerly direction. More than one small island divides the stream at Hampton, and many are the fishing-rods that may be here seen patiently extended over the beautiful forget-me-nots, and other flowering plants which are grouped with the thick rushes and bending willows. As we advance, we approach a second series of water-side residences,

MOULSEY LOCK WTSWG

— the murmuring sound of the "overshot", or weir, of the lock, becomes more distinct, — and our boat enters and passes through "Moulsey Lock", the last but one on the Thames. The present lock has been newly built within the last four years.

HAMPTON BRIDGE WTSWG

[ Gilbert White refers to a bridge existing before 1747 "the bridge at the Toy, Hampton Court being much decayed, some trees were wanted for the repairs" though Fred Thacker thought he had misunderstood and was referring to the Chinoiserie Bridge
The Chinoiserie style Hampton Bridge was built in 1753
It was replaced in 1778 by the bridge that Mr & Mrs Hall knew
That bridge was replaced in 1866 by a wrought iron girder bridge
which was replaced by the modern bridge in 1933 ]

Hampton has the questionable fame of possessing the ugliest and the most inconvenient bridge on the Thames, although a toll is still demanded from passengers. It is of wood, and was built in 1778, "by a builder at Weybridge". Close to it, in Surrey, is the terminus of the South-Western Railway; and near it is a neat little country inn, "the Castle", with small but comfortable rooms overlooking the river. We float under this bridge,

HAMPTON COURT

and in another minute we have landed close to the principal entrance to the Palace of Hampton Court. From the bridge itself, the view both up and down the stream exhibits English scenery in its highest perfection. But we hasten on to the Palace, passing a row of shops, hotels, and dwelling-houses, "Hampton Green" opens out before us, stretching away to our left, where it is bounded by a small cavalry barrack. In front of us are more houses, and immediately beyond them appear the noble hawthorns and horse-chestnuts of Bushy Park. This "Green", in the olden time, was the tilting-ground; it is now the scene of much holiday merry-making during summer months. The palace stables stand between the Green and the river. Here also are a few tolerable houses, of which more than one promises the best of "entertainment", "provided at the shortest notice", for visitors of all classes and of all tastes.

The "Toy", so long the recognised chief of the Hampton Court hotels, has ceased to exist in its former capacity, the building having been altered to form a group of private residences. A rapid "decline" preceded this "fall" of the "Toy." *
* Much speculation has arisen with reference to the singular title — the "Toy". It may, however, be derived from the tois or toils — movable fences of net-work that were used as barriers in many of the games, once played daily on the adjoining green — the tilting-ground, or (as it is styled in a survey of the year 1653) the toying-place of the Tudors and Stuarts.

[As noted above Gilbert White refers to the "bridge at the Toy, near Hampton Court"]

In the days of Dutch William, who spent much time at Hampton Court, many were the rump-steak dinners given by the monarch himself at the "Toy" to his courtiers; and on these occasions, dense, without doubt, were the clouds of tobacco-smoke that enveloped both the guests and their royal host. The present "Toy", however, is an excellent hotel.

The palace itself is shut off from the Green by a long and massive wall of dark-red bricks, having in front of it a broad walk, now deeply shadowed with noble elms and chestnuts, leading from the river to Bushy Park. This was a favourite promenade with Mary, the consort of William III.; and here, also, the Low Country maids of honour and other ladies, who in those days graced with their presence the English court, might continually be seen. Hence the place obtained the popular name of the "Frau Walk", which has since degenerated into the "Frog Walk", by which it is now known.

At the entrance to the palace precincts, on either side, a lion and a unicorn discharge their patriotic duty of "supporting" the royal arms. We enter. On our right are some porter's-lodge-looking buildings, with a single good red-brick house — a family residence. On the opposite side, stretching away towards Wolsey's noble gateway-tower, is a long range of cavalry barracks, with their guard-house, stables, canteen, and other accessories. Our barracks are generally successful specimens of the art of unsightly and inconvenient building; and here, where something better might have been expected, this unworthy art has achieved its climax. The associations of "Royal Hampton's pile", however, which throng thickly upon our minds, are not interwoven with deeds of chivalrous valour or of military renown, — except, indeed, such as are inseparable from the present purposes to which the palace is so happily applied.

ENTRANCE TO HAMPTON COURT

"The o'er-great cardinal" and his unscrupulous master rise before us; then come visions of the unfortunate Charles, of phlegmatic William, of decorous "Anne", and of the first George with his broken English. Rich, indeed, is the palace of Hampton Court in materials for a domestic history of almost unparalleled interest. We can but glance at the more salient points in the sketch for such a history.

In the time of Henry III. the manor of Hampton ("Hamntone" it is written in the Domesday Survey) was held by the Knights Hospitallers of St. John of Jerusalem, and from them Wolsey obtained a lease for the purpose of building on the site of the old manor-house his stately palace. The works were commenced about the year 1515, and they were urged on with such rapidity that the cardinal shortly after made Hampton his residence, or, as Skelton would have it, he held his "court" there. The splendours of Hampton Court when in the hands of Wolsey speedily produced that dangerous "envy" which in 1526 induced him to present his palace with all its sumptuous furniture to the king. Henry VIII. accepted the gift without hesitation; and, in return, graciously "licensed the lord cardinal to lie in his royal manor at Richmond at his pleasure"; also permitting him occasionally to occupy Hampton Court itself. In 1527, Montmorency, the French ambassador, was received at Hampton Court in such a style that the Frenchmen did "not only wonder at it here, but also make a glorious report of it in their own country".

The great hall was built by Henry VIII., after the palace had come into his possession, and he added other buildings to the pile, "till it became more like a small city than a house". With his characteristic selfishness, he also afforested the country around, converting a wide tract of the adjoining lands into a chace, which he stocked with deer. Henry spent much of his time at Hampton Court. There Edward VI. was born, and there Jane Seymour died. With Edward himself Hampton Court was a favourite residence, and so it continued to be during several succeeding reigns. James I. held there the "conference" of 1604. Many of both his happier and his most anxious days were spent there by Charles I. *
* It was from Hampton Court that Charles I. fled to the Isle of Wight, on the night of November 11, 1647, and so brought to a climax the long rupture between himself and the parliament. The night was dark and stormy; the king was attended only by one servant, Lord Ashburnham, and Sir John Berkeley. They went towards Oatlands, and so through the wood there, the king acting as guide. In one of the letters he left behind him he says, "I confesse that I am loath to be made a close prisoner under pretence of securing my life." This journey was the last act of freedom of the unfortunate king.

In 1656 Cromwell purchased it, and made it his principal abode. It was in equal favour with Charles II. after the Restoration; James II. resided there less habitually; William III. and Anne may be said to have made it their home. The first and second Georges followed in the steps of their predecessors in so far as Hampton Court is concerned.

But since their time a change has come upon what Lord Hervey (Pope's "Lord Fanny") was pleased to call the "unchanging circle of Hampton Court". The state apartments and the hall are thrown open freely to the public daily, with the exception of Fridays only; and the rest of the palace is arranged to form a series of residences for families who may be considered to have claims upon their Sovereign and their country. Her Majesty the Queen is known to feel a warm interest in Hampton Court, and the appointments to the residences in the palace are made expressly by the royal command. Recent circumstances have greatly enhanced the interest which attaches to this royal house, thus converted into a palace of the people. In place of persons of high rank but narrow means, Hampton Court has now become, for the most part, the residence of the widows and orphan families of officers who have fallen in the Sikh war, and in the Crimea: and we may feel assured that many of those families who mourn the lost heroes of the fierce struggle in India — our Havelucks and Neills — will here find honourable and honoured homes.

The palace originally consisted of five principal quadrangular courts, but of these three only now remain. To these, however, must be added a variety of offices, and many ranges of subordinate buildings. The first and second courts are for the most part remains of the original palace, with the exception of very questionable classic additions in the second court and the great hall of Henry VIII. The third court is the work of Sir Christopher Wren, and is a dull and heavy affair. The hall has lately undergone a complete restoration, which has been thoroughly well done: the grand open timber roof, the finely proportioned windows with their brilliant new heraldic glazing by Willement, the showy array of banners, the groups of armour, and the quaint and still bright hued tapestry, all combine to realize the most romantic vision of a palatial hall. Adjoining the hall is a truly appropriate withdrawing room.

To the state apartments we ascend by the "king's staircase", at an angle of the second court. A series of wretched allegories cover the walls and ceilings of this staircase; they are the work of Verrio. *
* Verrio was one of the most famed of a school of artists, who, in accordance with a taste generated at the court of Louis XIV., covered the walls and ceilings of English mansions with enormous allegorical pictures. He has been immortalized by Pope in the lines descriptive of "Timon Villa": —

On painted ceilings you devoutly stare,
Where sprawl the saints of Verrio and Laguerre.

We first enter the "guard-chamber", where there are some curious weapons of bygone days. Here commences the miscellaneous collection of pictures, some originals, others copies, many curious and valuable, and more equally uninteresting and worthless, which cover the walls of the long range of noble rooms. There are a few relics of the state furniture also here, and a considerable quantity of fine china. The Cartoons demand a far more detailed notice than our space will admit: we content ourselves, therefore, with a few brief words of ardent admiration, and a strong expression of hope that these most precious of our national "Art treasures" may be removed from the sombre gallery to which they are now consigned, in order to take their rightful place in a worthy "National Gallery" in London. Among the more remarkable pictures are some historical works of great interest, by Holbein and others; a group of the "Charles the Second Beauties", by Lely, and a companion group of portraits by Kneller of the ladies of the court of William III.; various other portraits; two fine Giorgiones; Andrea Montagna's really grand "Triumph of Julius Caesar", and the Cartoons. Two very remarkable pictures by Mabuse, which were sent to the Manchester Exhibition, were returned from thence to Holyrood instead of to Hampton Court; they were long supposed to be portraits of the Scottish James who fell at Flodden, and of his English Queen, Margaret, the sister of Henry VIII.; but the researches of Mr. David Laing, since they have been removed to Scotland, seem to prove satisfactorily that the portraits are those of King James III. and Margaret of Denmark, and that they were painted about 1484, for the Church of the Holy Trinity, Edinburgh. *
* An excellent "companion" to "Hampton Court" was compiled a few years ago by Henry Cole, Esq., C.B.: no doubt it has been since revised. It is sufficiently elaborate to answer all purposes of the visitor.

From many of the windows there are charming views of the gardens and the park. With these views we now hasten to form a more intimate acquaintance. We descend by a different staircase, and passing along the colonnades of the "fountain court", we enter the gardens.

HAMPTON COURT: GARDEN FRONT

They are admirably kept, and their formality is both characteristic and pleasing. There is a fountain in a circular basin opposite to the centre of Wren's facade; and here are a brilliant throng of such gold and silver fish as might have satisfied Wolsey himself with their size and their lustrous hues.

The gardens extend from the river to Bushy Park. In front of the palace, and also reaching to the Thames as it sweeps onward to Kingston, lies the "Home Park", with its splendid trees, noble deer, formal sheet of water, and the picturesque lodge of the ranger. A noble terrace-walk passes in front of the palace, and on reaching the river it is continued at right angles to its former course, and parallel with the stream; here, between the terrace and the "Home Park", are some fine specimens of wrought-iron work, that will repay a careful study.

Returning towards the palace, we observe the bell that summons the attendant gardener who has the charge of the "private garden". To this garden the public are admitted, but they are expected here to pay a small gratuity. The garden is well worthy a visit. It affords some fine views of the palace, and it also contains the famed "vine", which fills its ample hothouse, and displays such a collection of clusters as it is probable never elsewhere hung upon a single tree. *
* This vine produces the grape called the Black Hamburgh; it spreads over a surface of 110 feet, and in some seasons has yielded more than 2500 bunches of grapes.

We return to the open gardens, and walk past the palace. Leaving behind us a newly-built tower, we enter the "wilderness", a thickly-planted space to the north of the main edifice, where some of the finest trees in England are grouped together. *
* This wilderness was planted by King William III., with a view to hide the irregularities of the north side of the palace, where the old domestic offices were situated.
At the extremity of this wilderness is the "Maze". *

THE MAZE

* This is a curious relic of the ancient taste in gardening, and was planted in the reign of William III. It consists of narrow walks between tall clipped bushes, which wind intricately to the open space in the centre. There is only one way by which it may be reached, and any deviation leads to a stoppage and a necessity for retracing the path.
We need no guide to lead us to the entrance that tempts all visitors to explore the intricacies within; for more than one of the pleasure-seekers of the day is there before us, and their laughter is by no means kept within the hedges of the maze, though it does not transgress beyond the bounds of moderation.

And this remark leads us to observe that the great boon of free public access to Hampton Court Palace and Gardens is thoroughly appreciated by the public. Rarely, indeed, is an individual to be seen who needs to be reminded that he is acting with impropriety. Thousands and tens of thousands of persons of all classes avail themselves of the opportunity so liberally afforded them of enjoying this beautiful place; and yet the few police who are on duty find their office almost a sinecure. This is as it should be.

Story OF FRESH WATER JACK

The reader will permit us to vary these comparatively dry details of facts by introducing a sketch of one of those "characters" so frequently encountered on or about the river.

During our later visits to Hampton Court, we have felt disappointment that we did not meet at the old landing a man who had long been associated with our memories of the neighbourhood. He was known by the sobriquet "Fresh-Water Jack" We missed the blithe rosy face, the bright eyes, the broad joyous smile of the young Irishman, who was accustomed to assure us he knew of our approaching visit to "the Coort" by a "drame" he had. He was lame; and we remember once endeavouring to obtain for him a situation where he might earn his "crust" on dry land, believing he might lose altogether the use of his limbs from being so continually in and about the water; but Jack said he couldn't bear the thought of quitting the beautiful "ould river", that he knew, and that knew him: besides, so many would miss him, — his friends — God bless them! — who called to see him and the "Coort" anyway once a-year. "A fresh-water Jack", he would say, "is all as one as a king — he never dies." So there'd be another in his place before he'd been a mile away from Hampton: and sure some of his own beautiful ladies and gentlemen might be murdered by them thieving "jacks", "and the sin o' that would be on his soul to the end of his days, and may be afther[sic]. No; as long as he had one leg to stand on, and two hands to help, he'd keep his ground in the "wather."

Poor Jack! when he declared his tongue was loosely hung he said but the truth; he told us, on the first day of our acquaintance, all he had, or rather all he chose, to tell — for Irishmen, however voluble, have their reserves. He professed great love and admiration for the Thames; but it was evident that, no matter what his worldly interests might be, his heart was in a perpetual state of transit between Cork and Kerry. He had plenty of information about the river, and was an excellent fisherman "when not on duty"; knew where to get gudgeons, and where the barbel lay, and would keep a keen eye and a steady hand to his work; but say a word of "the Lee" or "the Shannon" — just name Killarney — down would go the rod, the pole might float where it pleased, in an ecstasy he would pitch all the ground-bait over at once, and, with sparkling eyes and fluent tongue — if he had not done so previously — inform you that "in troth" he was an Irishman himself, and what was bether still, a County Cork man — and what was twice as good as that, a boy from Clonakilty!
"Sure, then, I'll never turn the back of my hand on ould Ireland. People says to me, 'Why do you say you're Irish, Jack, when you have such beautiful English on the top of yer tongue?' but I'd scorn to be an imposture. No, if Ireland hadn't a rag to her back, or a string to her harp, every blade of her grass would be dearer to Jack O'Conner than all the timber on the Thames, — and that's a bould word, for well I know the forests it floats all over the world, and I've nothin' to say aginst them; but for all that, I'd rather this minute have a blade of the grass that grows on my mother's grave than the whole of 'em."

We remember inquiring, if Jack loved his country so tenderly, why he had left it. Jack twisted his shoulders and said,
"The rason?" Why, betwixt the famine and the sickness, there was nothing left for him to love but the bare sod; but", he added, "Even with all the sickness and the hunger, I'd have stuck to that sod if it wasn't for the hurt I got in mee knee (saving yer presence); but if boys with the use of their four bones couldn't get more than the wet potatoe and the sup of wather, how could such a bocher * (lame man) as meeself get through? — and all mee people either dead or gone to the Far West! If I had the luck to take the pledge, and keep it, it's not here I'd be, anyway.

I got my wound through being overtaken * (tipsy) during the full of the May moon, at the corner, as you turn from the Lake to go up to the blessed Church of Aghadoe. I thought I wasn't quite right in meeself, and I knew my neighbours — the good people — from the skirl of the pipes coming through the air, just like the song of a bird through the leaves of a forest; and I felt the drowsiness coming over me, — ' Keep up, John Conner', I says, 'and don't be taking the breadth of the road instead of the length of it; but go on.' Well, I tried hard, but I couldn't foot a straight line; and I heerd them coming closer and closer: and I had sense enough to be ashamed of meeself one minute, and glad the next, because the only girl I cared for wasn't there to see. 'And it',s a purty pass I'm come to', I says, 'when I don't wish you — darlint of my heart! — to be near me!' and yet I wasn't so overtaken intirely but I knew where I was; and I saw the leaves dancing in circles on the road, and the dust wheeling, and every now and agin a buz in my ear, and I tuk off my hat, not to be wantin' in manners, as they passed, though I wished meeself far enough away: and then of a suddent I minded there was a slip of a rowan-tree growing over the gripe of the ditch, and I knew if I could catch a hoult of one of its dawshy boughs, or even get under its shade, I'd be as safe as if I was in the holy cardinal's hall up there, and his holiness himself to the fore*(present); so here goes, I says, and I made a spring, thinking to clear the gripe — for in them times I was free and firm of foot as the finest deer on Glena; but as ill luck would have it, mee head was light, and mee feet heavy wid the brogues, — for it was a holiday, so I had 'em on, — and into the gripe I went: if there was wather in it, I'd have been drownded like a blind puppy, but as it was, I lay like a turtle, and the moon looking mee full in the face like a Christian. I roared and cried; but sure I knew no one could hear me that would give me a taste of help; and I wanted to think of mee prayers, and if I could have got at one, I'd ha' been safe enough; but I was bothered between the goin' and the comin' of the good people's pipes, and the song she had sung for me, and me only, not two hours gone, — the song warbled round mee heart, and the pipes, as I said, bothered mee ears, and I knew by the prayers keepin' their distance that there was somethin' goin' to happen beyant the common; and sure enough, it wasn't long 'till they gathered round me, like a swarm of bees round a Maybush, first peepin' and pryin' at me, as if I was a grate curosity, and not one of 'em the length of mee hand, and titterin' and sniggerin', all as one as the young girls of flesh and blood are so fond of doing when they set their come-ithers on some unfortunate boy without sense, or, indeed, with sense — for one sort is just as 'asy made nothin' of' as the other.

Then they made a ball-room of mee chest, footin' and patterin' over me; and the young ones made a horse of mee nose, and the king and queen had high tay on mee forehead, and a game of hide-and-seek through mee hair. I knew that as long as the good people liked to divart themselves that way, I should say nothin' against it though if I could have thought of a prayer, they'd have had it; so I lay as still as a dead lamb until one, all over in a shine of silver, cried out they must have some shooting, and then there was a grate scrimigin' and racing, and trying their bows and arras; and they set to pulling the hair out of mee head for bow-strings, and I bearing it all like a Christian, and yet couldn't think of a Christian prayer! Oh! my grief! Well though they war little, the high heels of their dawshy shoes ran like iron into mee flesh, and I desired to ax them to go 'asy, particular those on mee nose, who kickt it crooked, and left it so — as your honor may see, if you pay me the compliment to look straight in mee face."
And certainly Jack's nose leaned considerably more to one side than to the other — this gave him a quaint, roguish expression. He continued,
"Well, I dun know how it was, but I begun to think of mee poor mother; and though she wasn't a prayer, she was the next thing to it, she taught me all she knew that way, as well as every other way; and surely, the more I thought of her, the lighter grew the little iron heels, and somehow, the dawshy craythurs themselves seemed as if the light shone through them; but still they kep' on at their new play, shootin' their little arras, which sparkled for all the world like stivers of diamonds. so bright and swift — made out of dew and moonlight, and the webs that glitter on the hedges of a summer morning — so that I was fairly bothered watching them, now thinkin' this and now thinkin' that; and my mother seemed a grate ould picture in the thick of it. At last I spied up at the sky, and sure enough I thought I saw the first strake of day, like an angel's smile in the heavens, and with that I said asy to myself, 'Oh, Holy Mary!' That done it— and me too! — Skirl — whirl — wish — e! — all round me. But one, a little spiteful devil, with a hooked nose, and a red feather in his cap, came out of the mob, and taking his stand on the top of a bouchlawn, draws his bow, and looking at me as a judge looks at a prisoner, 'Take that, John O'Conner', he says, 'for findin' fault with the heels of mee boots, that war made before the Flood', he says, 'and are better than new now!' and with that he lets fly at me, and the arra hot me in the knee. I thought the life would lave me that very minute; but life is tough, and hearts are tougher. I sat up, and sure enough when I did, the heavens were all in a glow o'pink like a bride's blushes, and an innocent rabbit was staring me full in the face. I might have taken a priest's word for it, and believed it nothin' but a drame, only for the lameness and the arra, which I drew out with this hand (that's so honoured as to hand ye safe ashore, mee noble lady); and mee poor mother kep it for a corker *(stong pin)) for many a day to fasten her shawl. One Sunday she forgot a warnin' she had, and took it to Mass, and she never saw it afther."

Poor Jack! his place, to our fancy, can never be efficiently filled. We inquired for him. and, to our astonishment, heard that, fascinated by the blandishments of a recruiting sergeant, he had exchanged the Thames for the "Connaught Rangers."
"But his knee — his lameness!" we exclaimed.
"Please, my lady", said the new "Jack". "his knee was bosh, and his lameness bosh. He made a good thing of it here — all blarney: he got shillings where I get pence. He was born with a silver spoon in his mouth."
"How? has any one heard of him lately?"
"Oh yes; he was in the Crimea, and distinguished himself, they said: led a something, which I don't believe — all bosh! — lost a leg and an arm (I should not wonder if they grew again, like the lobster's) — was made a sergeant, and got a pension, and a lot of medals at his button-hole, and a Queen's handkerchief in his pocket. Pity he doesn't come back to his old place — he should have it cheap."
What a grumbling water-rat! We were more than proud of our old acquaintance; but we hoped he had not fooled us so entirely, and are more than willing to believe his lameness was real, and that time had removed the impediment to preferment.

BUSHY PARK

From the "Maze", at Hampton Court, we cross over the Kingston Road into Bushy Park, passing through a cluster of hotels, lodging-houses, and private residences. Famous are the horse-chestnuts and thorn-trees of Bushy, but fame has done them no more than justice. The thorns are supposed to have given its name to the park. The fern here is picturesque, and the deer abound on every side. Some of them are very tame; so much so, that they will even eat from the hands of visitors who, in the summer season, assemble for a sylvan repast beneath the trees. There is a public drive across the park to Teddington, and more than one foot-path promises a delightful walk to the pedestrian. Opposite the principal entrance, in the great avenue, is the "Diana" fountain, which stands in the midst of a large circular piece of water, and exercises its vocation after a very agreeable manner. The lodge and the stables of Bushy are separate buildings, and though rather extensive, they do not claim any special notice, — except, indeed, to state that the former was the favourite residence of William IV. and good Queen Adelaide.
Bushy Bark must be regarded as forming an integral part of the royal domain of Hampton Court. Having traversed its pathways, and rested in the shade of its trees, we retrace our steps to the palace, and returning through its courts to the river where our boat awaits us, we set forth on our voyage downward.

RIVER MOLE [and River Ember] WTSWG

The first object that attracts our notice is the junction of the "silent Mole" with the waters of the Thames. This tributary, itself produced by the union of a numerous series of small streams and brooks, some of which rise in Sussex, and others in Surrey, assumes the importance of a river near Reigate, in the latter county, from whence its course lies in a north-westerly direction. Winding amidst the lovely scenery of central Surrey, the Mole flows on past Dorking, Leatherhead, and Cobham; and then, taking its leave of bold hills and rich woods and ancestral mansions, it hastens through the flat region of the Moulseys towards the Thames. Much has been written, both in poetry and prose, upon the Mole, and many are the landscapes that other artists besides Witherington have painted near its tranquil waters. As late as the times of the lordly builder of Hampton Court, known as the "Emlay", this river has both changed its name and acquired its celebrity, from the singular circumstances that attend its career in the neighbourhood of Box Hill and Norbury Park, Here the bed of the stream is composed of a very porous earth, in which, at some little depth below the surface, many cavernous hollows are supposed to have been formed. In ordinary seasons the supply of water is sufficient, as well to fill these hidden recesses as to maintain the stream itself at its ordinary level; not so, however, in any time of drought; then the stream fails, and for some distance the channel is dry, with the exception of here and there a standing pool. Near the bridge at Thorncroft the ground again becomes solid, and here accordingly the exhausted river rises in a strong spring, and resumes its original condition. As will be readily supposed, this singular interruption to the course of the Mole gave rise, at early periods, to a variety of marvellous legends. Old Camden does not fail to give his version of the wonder, and, according to him, the Mole at Box Hill absolutely leaves the surface of the earth for a while in order to traverse a dark and subterraneous channel, arched out for its reception, and for some hidden purpose, by the great engineer, Nature. We may add, that at Wey-pool, in the "porous" region, the river has hollowed out a basin about thirty feet in diameter, in which the curious process of its absorption may be observed.

WOLSEY'S TOWER

On the banks of the Mole there is yet a remnant of Wolsey's palace, "his palace of Esher-Place", to which he retired after "losing the favour" of King Henry, who had despoiled him of all his possessions, leaving him nothing — compelling him to beg from the monks at Leicester Abbey even

A little earth for charity!

William Wainfleet, who held the see of Winchester from 1447 to 1486, built a stately mansion of red brick on the borders of the Mole, and it became the episcopal residence. It was repaired and partially rebuilt by "the o'er-great cardinal"; and of this erection the gatehouse yet remains, a striking object on the banks of the pleasant river.
Milton speaks of the

Sullen Mole that runeth underneath;

Pope of the

Sullen Mole that hides his diving flood

And Drayton pictures the Thames hastening to soft dalliance with the Mole, — when he is reproved by his parents, Thame and Isis, who desire him, in preference, to mate with the Medway —

But Thames would hardly on: oft turning back, to show
From his much-loved Mole how loth he was to go.

THAMES DITTON WTSWG

Having passed the confluence of the Mole with the Thames, our boat sweeps by the palace gardens, and we glide swiftly along between the Home Park and the pretty village of Thames Ditton. Once again we find ourselves amidst a flotilla of punts, and great is the amount of serious fishing we observe to be going on. On our right some small willow-bearing islands attract notice, and we learn that these are spots famous in the history of Thames picnic parties — so famous. indeed, that during the summer season they vie with Bushy Park itself as scenes of much happy and harmless enjoyment of this description. We pass the islands, and land on the Surrey bank of the river, with the view of improving our acquaintance with Ditton.
In the Domesday Book it is stated that "Wadard holds of the Bishop (of Bayeux) Ditone, in the hundred of Kingstone"; and it included the rich manors of Cleygate and Weston — the former belonging to the abbots of Westminster, the latter to the nuns of Barking. The church is "of remote origin, but has been greatly altered at different times, and enlarged by additional erections". It contains some remarkable tombs and brasses, most of them of a late period.

THE SWAN AT DITTON WTSWG

THE SWAN AT DITTON

Our print exhibits the long-famous inn, "The Swan"; and the stately mansion — "Boyle Farm" — the residence of Lord St. Leonards. "The Swan" is, as we have said, "famous", but only in the records of the angler. Time out of mind, Thames Ditton has been in favour with the punt-fisher, not alone because sport was always abundant there, — its pretty aits, close beds of rushes, and overhanging osiers being nurseries of fish, — but because the river is especially charming "hereabouts", and there are many associations connected with the fair scenery that greatly augment its interest to those who enjoy the recreation of the "contemplative man". All anglers, therefore, are familiar with the pleasures to be found in this quiet and attractive nook of the Thames. Our own memory recalls to us a day we cannot soon forget: it was passed in a punt with Theodore Hook — a lover of the gentle art, as many have been to whom "society" and the gaieties of life were necessities. Hook was in strong health at that time — it was in the year 1834; the fountain of his wit was in full and uninterrupted flow; it is not difficult to imagine, therefore, the stores of incident and humour that were opened up between the first cast of the plummet into the stream and the winding up of the reel when the declining light gave notice that refreshment was provided at "the Swan". *
* On that occasion Mr. Hook produced some lines, which we believe are little known, and were not published with his name; we therefore reprint them from the New Monthly Magazine (then edited by Mr. S.C.Hall) for July, 1834, in which they were printed. They were composed in the punt, and afterwards written down. It is needless to refer to Mr. Hook's wonderful facility in improvising verse.

When sultry suns and dusty streets
Proclaim town's winter season,
And rural scenes and cool retreats
Sound something like high treason —
I steal away to shades serene,
Which yet no bard has hit on,
And change the bustling, heartless scene
For quietude and Ditton.

Here lawyers, free from legal toils,
And peers, released from duty.
Enjoy at once kind Nature's smiles,
And eke the smiles of beauty:
Beauty with talent brightly graced,
Whose name must not be written.
The idol of the fane, is placed
Within the shades of Ditton.

Let lofty mansions great men keep —
I have no wish to rob 'em —
Not courtly Claremont, Esher's steep.
Nor Squire Combe's at Cobham.
Sir Hobhouse has a mansion rare,
A large red house, at Whitton,
But Cam with Thames I can't compare,
Nor Whitton class with Ditton.

I'd rather live, like General Moore,
In one of the pavilions
Which stand upon the other shore.
Than be the king of millions;
For though no subjects might arise
To exercise my wit on,
From morn till night I'd feast my eyes
By gazing at sweet Ditton.

The mighty queen whom Cydnus bore.
In gold and purple floated,
But happier I, when near this shore,
Although more humbly boated.
Give me a punt, a rod, a line,
A snug arm-chair to sit on.
Some well-iced punch, and weather fine,
And let me fish at Ditton.

The 'Swan', snug inn, good fare affords
As table e'er was put on.
And worthier quite of loftier boards
Its poultry, fish, and mutton:
And while sound wine mine host supplies,
With beer of Meux or Tritton,
Mine hostess, with her bright blue eyes.
Invites to stay at Ditton.

Here, in a placid waking dream,
I'm free from worldly troubles,
Calm as the rippling silver stream
That in the sunshine bubbles;
And when sweet Eden's blissful bowers
Some abler bard has writ on.
Despairing to transcend his powers,
I'll ditto say for Ditton.

As a fishing station. Ditton has lost some of its ancient fame; and the inn had fallen also from its "high estate". Latterly, however, it has been considerably "brushed up"; the landlord and landlady seem very attentive to their guests; the rooms are remarkably clean and neatly furnished, and anglers may again enjoy there the quiet comfort which ought to succeed a day of pleasant toil. Moreover, there are several good and experienced fishermen at Ditton; and punts, as well as row-boats, may be generally obtained.

ESHER

Esher is about two miles from Thames Ditton; but those who voyage the Thames will surely pay a visit to this village, charming for its scenery, and deeply interesting from its associations. It was anciently named Aissele (so in Domesday), Aissela, and Ashal. In this neighbourhood is Claremont, so sadly connected Avith the brief history of the Princess Charlotte, who died here on the 6th November, 1817. It is now the property of his Majesty the King of the Belgians.
Here too resided the unhappy Lord Clive, of whom parliament pronounced that he rendered "great and important service to his country". The house is plain, but the grounds are exceedingly beautiful, and are kept with much care.
In the church at Esher are interred Anna Maria Porter and her mother, who resided many years in a small cottage in the village. *
* So far back as the year 1825 we visited the accomplished sisters, Jane and Anna Maria Porter, at their pretty cottage; and we have given a record of this visit in the "Pilgrimages to English Shrines", from which we borrow the appended engraving.

THE COTTAGE OF JANE AND ANNA MARIA PORTER

A tomb was erected by her daughters over the remains of Mrs. Porter: it gives the dates of her birth and death, and contains this memorable passage —

RESPECT HER GRAVE, FOR SHE MINISTERED TO THE POOR

It is in the churchyard; a cypresss flourishes at the head of the grave. Not long after the death of her mother, Anna Maria was laid by her side. The last time we saw Jane Porter - it was at Bristol, a few months before her death, in 1850 - her parting words to us were these, "Whenever you are at Esher, do visit my mother's grave."
While at Esher the sisters were in the wane of life, but having good health, and still occasionally writing; enjoying honourable repose: having obtained a large amount of fame, and being in easy and comfortable circumstances. Anna Maria, although the youngest, died first, Jane surviving her sister several years. They must have left a mass of interesting correspondence; and their lives afforded materials for an interesting biography. It is to be regretted that no use has been made of either since their deaths. They published novels when talent in women was comparatively rare, and they obtained an amount of fame perhaps beyond their deserts: yet their many books still hold a prnminent place in public favour. They were undoubtedly, however, the precursors of "Waverley"; and Sir Walter Scott followed in the steps of these eminent and excellent ladies.
At Thames Ditton, too, William and Mary Howitt lived in one of the many pretty and graceful "home-dwellings" that abound in this vicinity.

There is little to attract the voyager between Ditton and Kingston. The banks of the river are on both sides low, generally bordered with rushes, with occasional aits, on which grow the "sallys" which supply so many of the basket-makers of London. We have therefore leisure here to consider some of the wild flowers of the water, of which we shall soon lose sight, for we are approaching the "roads", from which they have been driven by the "higher state of cultivation".
The neighbourhood from Staines to Twickenham is rich in aquatic vegetation, both as regards the number of species and the prodigal luxuriance of their growth: in one small still pool, a few yards in extent, intercepted from the stream by a narrow strip of beach, we found in flower at one time specimens of the noble White and the Yellow Water-lilies, the beantiful Fringed Villarsia, or Yellow Buckbean, the delicate Frogbit, the Arrow-head in fine blossom, the Purple and the Yellow Loosestrife; and on the bank the fine bold foliage of the Waterdock, Wild Teasel, Reeds, and many of the minor or less remarkable species that create the wealth of a river Flora. It was delightful to the eye and mind of the poet, painter, botanist, or the simple lover of nature. Several of these plants we have already pictured as they have occurred in the course of our tour; we may here describe two or three not hitherto noticed.

THE YELLOW WATER LILY

The Yellow Water-lily (Nuphar lutea), which is so constantly found in company with its fairer sister, the White Lily, — though indeed it cannot rival the latter in size and beauty, — produces by its contrast of colour a charming effect. These two together stud the river with silver and gold, giving an almost tropical luxuriance to the still nooks which are their favourite haunts, and where they develop themselves in full glory. The structure of the yellow lily is extremely curious on a close examination, which shows a very complicated and ornamental arrangement of the interior parts round a central object, the seed-vessel, which in shape bears a resemblance to a flagon or bottle; and this circumstance, in conjunction with the flower emitting a decidedly spirituous odour, has given rise to its having received, in the provinces, the Bacchanalian cognomen of "Brandy-bottle".

THE YELLOW BUCKBEAN

There is another yellow flower that, at a little distance, bears a close resemblance to the last, but, on a nearer inspection, is found to be very distinct; this is the Villarsia nymphoides, or Yellow Buckbean, generally spoken of by botanists as a great rarity: it may probably be so in most localities, for we have never met with it excepting in the Thames from Windsor downward, where in some parts we found it growing in rich profusion. The leaves are very like those of the Waterlily in shape and texture, though smaller; and they float in a similar way on the surface of the water, above which rise the bright yellow blossoms, of a graceful contour; the petals being edged with a delicately-cut fringe, which gives to the flower a peculiar elegance. This is one of the numerous native "aquatics" that are worthy of cultivation by every possessor of an ornamental water; or it might be easily grown within the limits of an indoor tank or aquarium, the culture being extremely easy.

THE WILD TEASEL

What a striking appearance the Wild Teasel (Dipsacus silvestris) makes, rearing its erect form above the humbler herbage, and crowned with those curious bristling heads which, in the early part of the year, are clothed with diminutive lilac llowers, and later in the season form the receptacle of the seeds. This handsome plant is interesting also as being closely allied to the Fuller's Teasel, so largely employed in the preparation of woollen cloths, — if, indeed, the two plants are not, as some botanists suppose, varieties of the same species modified by cultivation and difference of soil, which in one develops the delicate hooks to which the Fuller's Teasel owes its efficacy, and for which no artificial substitute has yet been found. The heads of the latter plant are fixed on to the circumference of a large broad wheel, which is set in motion, and the cloth is held against them till the action of the crooked awns has sufficiently raised the nap. The Teasel is of commercial importance, and is cultivated in fields as a regular crop in the West of England, and also in some parts of Essex, but especially in Yorkshire — that county having of late years taken the lead in the manufacture of woollen cloths.

THE GREEN TORTOISE-BEETLE

Among the insect tribes, too, we meet with a variety of interesting objects, the water-side vegetation being a favourite haunt of numerous species, who there find abundance of food and shelter: many have presented themselves to our notice during our rambles, but want of space has prevented our figuring or describing more than a very small prooportion of them. Here, on a burdock leaf, its usual habitation, we found that curious and pretty little insect, the Green Tortoise-beetle (Cassida equestris). In appearance it really very much resembles a miniature tortoise, the upper part of the body being expanded into a shield which conceals the feet and head. But it is in the grub state that its habits are most singular, the tail being provided with a forked appendage, upon which the creature heaps a mass of extraneous matter, so that it carries about with it an artificial canopy that answers the purpose of defence and concealment.

These pauses in voyaging the Thames are always full of interest; instructive also, no matter what may be the object for which we "step ashore".

SEETHING WELLS, WATER-WORKS WTSWG

As we approach Kingston, we pass the new buildings of the company which supplies the Surrey side of London with water. The edifices themselves are by no means picturesque; nevertheless, as objects that cannot fail to attract the eye of all voyagers, we have thought it well to engrave them. The locality in which they are placed is called "Seething Wells"; and they are "The Chelsea and Lambeth Water-works". *
* The hot spring at Seething Wells was once thought an almost infallible remedy in certain cases of ophthalmia.

WATER-WORKS, SEETHING WELLS

WATER SUPPLY

For the following detailed analysis of the Thames water, at Kingston, we are indebted to the kindness of Mr. Henry Witt, F.C.S., Assistant Chemist to the Government School of Mines: —

But the composition of the water varies at different seasons of the year. The following represents the average composition at Kingston, as deduced from a large number of analyses, made by Mr. Witt, throughout the year 1856: —

These analyses show how excellent in quality is the water now supplied to London from Kingston, or rather Thames Ditton, by the Chelsea and Lambeth Water Companies.
The shallow wells of London cannot but be condemned as drinking waters, on account of their almost invariable contamination with sewage; the deep wells which sink into the chalk are inconveniently hard; but the Thames water at Kingston is sufficiently free from organic matter to be perfectly wholesome as a beverage, and sufficiently soft not to give rise to serious inconvenience on that account.
The water is pumped into large subsiding reservoirs; whence, after remaining about six hours, it passes on to the filters. These are large beds of sand, gravel, &c., through which the water passes at the rate of about 6¼ gallons per square foot per hour.
The filters are composed of the following strata in a descending order: —

After complete filtration, the purified water is pumped up to a covered reservoir on Putney Heath, whence it descends by gravitation to London, passing over the river in two iron tubes, supported by a new bridge, recently erected for the purpose between Putney and Fulham.
The two new subsiding reservoirs comprise an area of three acres, and are each capable of containing ten million gallons of water. The two filter-beds adjoining comprise an area of two acres, and are each capable of filtering ten million gallons in twenty-four hours. The two high level covered reservoirs on Putney Heath are two and a half acres in extent, and hold twenty feet deep of water. They command a service of 170 feet above Trinity high-water. The aggregate nominal engine power employed in pumping is 700 horses. The average quantity of water pumped daily is about 6,900,000 gallons.

KINGSTON WTSWG

Kingston is among the oldest of English towns; and is said to have been "the metropolis of the Anglo-Saxon kings". It is dificult to say what is meant by "metropolis of the Anglo-Saxon kings". The metropolis of the kings of Wessex, to whom Kingston belonged, is always understood to have been Winchester. But the kings would not necessarily be crowned there, as that ceremony might take place anywhere within the boundaries of their kingdom. Kingston seems, however, to have been a famous place when the Romans found and conquered the Britons in this locality.
Some writers have advanced arguments for believing that the "ford" which Caesar crossed was here, and not at Walton; and indications of barrows, fosses, and ramparts of Roman origin, are to be found in many places in the neighbourhood. It is more than probable that a bridge was here constructed by the Romans.
The Saxons followed in due course, and here they had many contests with their enemies the Danes; but A.D. 838, Egbert convened at Kingston an assembly of ecclesiastics and nobles in council, *
* "This record, in which the town is called 'Kyningestun, famosa ilia locus', destroys the supposition that it did not receive that appellation till the reign of King Athelstan, and proves that it was a royal residence, or at least a royal demesne, as early as the union of the Saxon heptarchy." - Lysons.
and here, undoubtedly, some of the Saxon kings were crowned:
"The townisch men", says Leland, "have certen knowledge that a few kinges were crounid there afore the Conqueste."
Its first charter was from King John, and many succeeding sovereigns accorded to it various grants and immunities.
During the war between Charles I. and the Parliament, Kingston was the scene of several "fights", being always on the side of the king.
The town is now populous and flourishing, although without manufactures of any kind. Since the establishment of a railway, villa residences have largely increased in the neighbourhood; and the two suburbs, Surbiton and Norbiton, are pretty and densely-crowded villages of good houses.

KINGSTON CHURCH

The church has suffered much from mutilation and restoration; it is a spacious structure, and was erected about the middle of the fourteenth century, on the site of an earlier edifice. Amongst the monuments is a fine brass, to a civilian and his wife, of the year 1437. *
* It is to the memory of Robert Skerne, of Kingston, and Joan, his wife; she was the daughter of the celebrated Alice Pierce or Perrers, mistress to Edward III., and afterwards wife to Sir William de Wyndesore. This brass abounds with beautiful details of costume, and records the day and year of Robert's death: —

May he in heaven rejoice who lived on earth sincere.
Who died upon the fourth of April, in the year
Of Christ, one thousand twenty score and thirty-seven.

Of existing antiquities there are but few: county historians, however, point out the sites of the ancient Saxon palace, "the castle", the Jews' quarter, and the Roman town, Tamesa; and the game of "foot-ball", it is said, is still practised by the inhabitants on Shrove Tuesday, in commemoration of one of the feats of their ancestors, by whom the head of a king-assassin was "kicked" about the Saxon town.

THE KING'S STONE

But perhaps the most interesting object now to be found in Kingston is "the King's Stone". It had long remained neglected, though not unknown, among disregarded heaps of debris in "the new courtyard", when it occurred to some zealous and intelligent antiquaries that so venerable a relic of remote ages was entitled to some show of respect. It was consequently removed from its degraded position, planted in the centre of the town, and enclosed by a "suitable" iron railing. It is now, therefore, duly and properly honoured, as may be seen by the engraving. *

THE KING'S STONE

* The stone formerly used to stand near the church-door, and was from time immemorial regarded as that upon which the Saxon Kings of Wessex were inaugurated according to the old Teutonic custom — a custom long prevalent in Germany and the northern nations, and still adopted in the coronation of the sovereigns of England; the old sacred stone of Scone, on which the Scottish kings were crowned, was brought from thence by Edward I., in 1296, and placed beneath the English chair where it still remains.
Kingston is expressly mentioned, in a charter of King Edred, A.D. 946, as the royal town where consecration is accustomed to be performed. Speed records the coronation of nine sovereigns here;
the first was Athelstan, by Aldhelm, Archbishop of Canterbury, A.D.. 924,
followed by his brothers Edmund and Edred;
then came Edgar, Edward the Martyr, his brother Ethelred II.,
and Edmund II., in A.D. 1016.
Two intervening kings, Edward the Elder, and Edwy, are stated by the same author to have been also crowned here, but this is more conjectural than strictly historic.
Some writers have deduced the name of the town from the stone, thus — King's-stone; but the proper derivation is clearly obtained from its name, which means simply "a manor belonging to the king". The kings had manors scattered all over the country, many of which still bear the name of Kingston, which does not necessarily imply a town. In fact, manor is perhaps the best translation of the word tun.
Athelstan, the first of the Saxon kings crowned at Kingston, was the first of the race who placed on their coins the title of King of all England. The various kingdoms of the heptarchy had by this time been consolidated, but he never actually possessed the whole kingdom.
We engrave two specimens of his silver pennies, on one of which he is styled "Athelstan Rex Saxorum", and on the other, "Athelstan Rex totius Britanniae".
Both inscriptions are in an abbreviated form.

KINGSTON BRIDGE WTSWG

KINGSTON BRIDGE

Kingston Bridge, to which we now conduct the tourist, is a convenient and graceful structure, erected from the design of M. Lapidge, and opened, in 1828, by the Earl of Liverpool, then High Steward of the borough. It took the place of an ancient wooden bridge, the successor, it is said, of one which the Saxons built to replace that which the Romans had constructed.

And so we leave Kingston, looking back upon the pleasant and prosperous town, pursuing our course downward between low banks, with here and there a mansion of note, but meeting nothing for comment until we approach Teddington; its "lock" being the last — or, more properly, the first — lock on the Thames.
Before we visit Teddington, however, we ask the reader's permission to introduce one of those sketches with which we seek to vary our descriptive details.

STORY OF GILBERT & FANNY

When Gilbert Golding, who was considered at that time as "smart a lad" as ever dipped oar in the waters of the Thames, married Fanny Meadows, every one said he had caught a Tartar; that is, every one who did not incline to the other belief — that a Tartar had caught him! At all events, they were married in the church of Teddington: Gilbert a tall, lithe, graceful youth of twenty-one; Fanny a short, strong, thick-armed woman of thirty. Gilbert, fresh and fair, looked younger than he was: Fanny, dark and sallow, seemed older. Gilbert had a soft, low voice, that went whispering amongst the reeds and water-plants like the breath of a south wind: Fanny's voice was keen and sharp as a north-wester. Gilbert was a "beau" in his way; his braces, embroidered after a criss-cross, quaint fashion, in scarlet worsted, were bright on his striped shirt: he was very particular, poor fellow, as to the width of the stripes. The broad black riband round his throat was tied in a jaunty bow; and on Sundays he had always a sprig of myrtle, a rose, a carnation, or some pretty cottage flower, in the button-hole of his smart blue jacket.
Fanny was anything but a "belle": her plain straw cottage bonnet was tied firmly on her head, tight down at the sides, by a broad, thick, blue riband, that had been dyed at least three times, and would "come out in black" as good as new in winter. During the week she dressed in cotton, of some dark obscure pattern; chiefly of a chocolate hue; and her broad, strong feet, and stout ankles, were cased in blue stockings and hob-nailed shoes. On Sundays she went faithfully and reverently to church in a miraculously thick silk, which, according to the tradition of Thames Ditton, had been given to her mother, who was lady's-maid to a grand old Lady Thornbury — who never would have hooks put in her wardrobe, because her dresses could stand by themselves.
Fanny's Sunday bonnet differed little from that worn during the week; but it was tied down with a broad white riband, and there was a peculiar bow at the side — the position of the bow had not varied the eighth of an inch for ten years.
Gilbert was considered the handsomest lad in Teddington: the best that could be said of Fanny was, that she was always clean and respectable. Why were they married? Gilbert had neither family nor friends; but he had one ambition — he wanted to scull his own wherry. Fanny told him she had saved as much money as would purchase two. They were married.
Fanny never wanted to be thought of, or what is called "petted", by her handsome husband; but, she took care of him and of his earnings, and, in process of time, of his three boys. All her sharpness would not have made Gilbert careful, so she managed to be care-taker to the whole family, and her petty acts of wilfulness seldom roused his easy nature even to remonstrate: if he was suddenly called upon to act, by some contradiction, or little feminine rebellion, he soon gave in, lounging off to his boat, and returning with a bright smile, all for tbe sake of "peace and quietness." She was as particular as he could be as to the breadth of his stripes and the trimness of his dress, and cultivated the flowers he loved best. She ministered with the unconsciousness of strong love to all bis little weaknesses, and so had her way in important matters. Many of the pretty girls of Teddington — aye, and in the sleepy, but well-to-do town of Kingston — did not hesitate to say that the handsome boatman was thrown away on an ugly old wife: older than he she was to a certainty; but Gilbert Golding was evidently happy and prosperous under the trial: and her desire to please her husband, whom she loved with the strength and determination of her perhaps coarse, but fervent nature, was so great, that at his request she altered the bow of her bonnet, and permitted him to choose her a new dress!

How the girls of Teddington did stare and flout! but Fanny went steadily to church with her little lads, stiff and sturdy as ever, apparently unconscious of her finery: still, it must be confessed, it was impossible not to wish that Fanny had been Gilbert, and Gilbert Fanny. Both Gilbert and his wife were in much favour at "The Anglers", and the landlord never failed to recommend the handsome waterman and his boat to what he called "nice customers". Fanny considered his boat her fourth child: she cherished, and dried, and re-covered the cushions, and had a summer and a winter set. There was no boat could vie with Gilbert's: she bought striped awnings, and contrived quite a picturesque and pretty canopy, that kept off rain or sunshine. She always "helped" her husband to paint the "Forget-me-not", as the boat was modestly called; and Fanny's help in this, as well as in other matters, consisted in "doing it all herself". Her voice was sometimes raised beyond its usual pitch; but, on the whole, as Fanny's duties multiplied, so did her temper and manners soften.
One light evening in June, Gilbert wafted to "The Anglers" the gentleman he had been rowing about all day, moored his boat, ate his supper, kissed his boys and his wife, told her he would wash the boat himself, and prepare her for the next day. He only stopped in his little garden to gather a carnation, and proceeded to the boat, which he unmoored, and sculled into the shadow of one of the distant aits.
The evening closed in, the moon rose; it was a soft, balmy evening, a delicious evening, — not a ripple on the water. Gilbert did not return to supper. No one at "The Anglers" had seen him since he disappeared behind the ait; most likely he had been called by some one who wanted a moonlight row — nothing more likely. Fanny prided herself, amongst other strong-minded notions, on never being anxious or uneasy about anything — "It would all come right; and if it did not, what odds?"
However, when "the neighbours" were asleep, and the moon was gone down, and the church clock "gone one", Fanny might have been seen peering through the half-darkness, rustling among the boats, and after unmooring one, rowing from ait to ait — down one channel, up another, frighting the water-fowl, and calling, in a suppressed voice - even there ashamed of her anxiety —
"Gilbert! - husband! - Gilbert!"
No one heard her shriek of terror when, right across a creek, she discovered the "Forget-me-not" alone, unmoved by breeze or ripple! In a moment she sprang on board, Where were the oars? — one lying across the seats, another floated within reach of her hand.
"Gilbert! — husband! — Gilbert!" She was unanswered, unechoed, in the stillness of the lonely night.
She hastened to the village, and shouted loudly and strongly from house to house, that they were to get up and seek and find, for that Gilbert's boat was drifting beside the bank — but where was Gilbert Golding? They must wake up and find her husband. And so they all did — that is, they arose and sought; and during the remnant of that night, and all the following day, they dragged the Thames, and hunted, and took counsel together, and dragged the waters in every creek and willowy bay for him they did not find.

Fanny looked for neither sympathy nor kindness — she rather repelled both; yet seemed endowed with almost supernatural strength, and worked as seldom woman was known to work before. She kept the boat in repair, and twice each year repainted with her own hand her husband's name upon it. She would not sell it, but let it out, and always saw to its mooring and cleaning. As her boys grew up, she steadily refused to let them take to the water: she said "their father would not like it". All her words and deeds proved that she did not, or would not, consider him dead; and during moonlight nights, no one was surprised to hear Fanny unmoor a boat and paddle it beside the banks, and among the reeds and willows — now in, now out of the moonshine — always returning to her widowed bed before dawn of day.
There were no three finer lads in Surrey than the three Goldings — good, steady boys, constant and attentive at school, and afterwards constant and attentive to their work. We came upon those three lads quite unexpectedly one sultry summer afternoon: we were sauntering through a friend's grounds (you may see the top of the house above the trees) along a pathway which led to an unprotected foot-bridge that crossed a small arm of the Thames, half pool, half rivulet, sometimes more than half empty — at times like a water-garden, at others a little mimic sea. We knew by the rapid tinkling of the sheep-bells, and the bleating from a pen which skirted the pathway, that something particular was going forward among the sheep.

Sheep Washing

Upon the bank stood Edward Golding, in vigorous yet kind contention with a strong-minded young ram, that objected to being washed; while William, the second lad, waist high in the water, stretched out his arms to receive the obstinate animal, and the youngest was occupied with a little lamb, which soon ran bleating and dripping to its mother. The lads enjoyed the work, and the worthy farmer assured us he would rather have the Golding lads to help at his sheep-washing than any three men in the parish, for "Ye see", he said, "they are both strong and tender". Fanny must have been proud of her boys, but she did not say so. She toiled on, thought and worked, silent and reserved even to her own children; and though considerably "aged", still passed more than one sleepless night during each full moon rowing amongst the sedges between the aits — up one channel, down another. Poor Fanny!
The very night of the sheep-washing the lads took their homeward way, singing one of the Christmas carols in joyful tune. As they drew near home their voices fell, for though their humble cottage home abounded in comforts, and they knew their tea would be ready, the cake baked, and their shoes and stockings warm on the hearth, still there was always something about their mother that forbade merriment: they could tell her all their little troubles, and she would give them good advice, and something like sympathy in her own hard fashion; but she had neither ears nor smiles for their joys. They saw the door was open — their mother met them on the threshold — a strange awe crept over tbem, and they stood round the little table without speaking, looking from one to the other. The cake was cut, and two persons had evidently been sitting there. Fanny pointed this out to them, but did not speak.

"What is - ?" The inquiry was arrested by their mother's impatient, almost imperious gesture. Silently she glided towards her little bed-room. The check curtains of the bed were drawn: she seized the arm of her eldest son, and croaked, rather than whispered —
"I knew he would come back, alive or dead — I knew he would come back: he is now between the living and the dead, remember, he is not to be questioned why he went, or where he has been: he is my husband — your father, boys, he is come home — home — six years gone — eight years gone — but he is home! Hush! Let us pray, and thank God!"
Silently they knelt down — silently they prayed — silently the incense of thanksgiving rose and passed to Heaven. Nor did they see their father until morning; and then, instead of Fanny, a grey-headed, weather-beaten man unmoored the "Forget-me-not".
When his wife was not present, his neighbours did not hesitate to question him as to the cause of his disappearance, and where he had been.
"He wanted to see the world", he said, "and had done so; and was not a little glad to get home again."
And that was all!

TEDDINGTON WTSWG

It is a popular fallacy to derive the name of Teddington from Tide-end town, from an idea that the first lock on the river being here, here the "tide" may be supposed to "end". In old records it is called Todington and Totyngton. *
* "There can be no other objection to this etymology than that the place is called Totyngton in all records for several centuries after the name first occurs." — Lysons.
The manor is supposed to have been given to Westminster Abbey by Sebert, the first Christian king of the East Saxons.

TEDDINGTON CHURCH

TEDDINGTON CHURCH

The church is of common-place character. We have engraved it, nevertheless, for it contains several remarkable and interesting memorials, — among others a monument to "Peg Woffington", *
* The tomb of "Mrs. Margaret Woffington, Spinster", as she is termed upon it, is a plain oval medallion. She died, aged 39, in the year 1760, and had achieved great popularity as an actress, particularly for the impersonation of male characters of the foppish type; her most celebrated part being that of Sir Harry Wildair, in Farquhar's play of "The Constant Couple". She was seized with the indisposition which proved fatal to her when speaking an epilogue at Covent Garden Theatre.

TEDDINGTON WEIR WTSWG

and also because it [Teddington Church] is so familiar a friend to "brethren of the angle", who have long regarded the Deep under the weir at Teddington as among the pleasantest of all their river memories. These memories are in truth very pleasant, for although it has "fallen from its high estate", and is by no means as productive of sport as it used to be, there is still plenty to be had in several "pitches", where abound all the various denizens of the populous river; while enjoyment is ever enhanced by associations with the past, which are suggested at every spot of ground beside which the punt is pushed or moored.
The fishermen here are "the Kemps": they have followed that vocation from father to son for more than a century and a half; and although some of them have been occasionally in bad repute as preferring the occupation of the poacher to that of the angler, others of the family have made and established good names, which they continue to preserve "to this day". The best of them is James Kemp, whose cottage stands in a small row by the water side, while the senior of the race keeps the neat and clean "Angler's Inn", through which there is a passage to the boats. James is the oldest of our river allies; we fished with him when his strength was insufficient to moor a punt, and for more than twenty years he was our companion on that "glorious first of June", to which the angler looks forward with intense anxiety, for on that day the Thames is open to labourers with the rod and line.

THAMES LOCKS

* Teddington Lock is now a new lock, the venerable and picturesque having given way before the march of "improvement". It is, as we have stated, the first lock on the Thames. It may interest the reader here to enumerate the several locks between Oxford and Teddington:
Iffley
Sandford
Abingdon
Culham
Clifton
Days
Benson
Wallingford [WTSWG Chalmore removed 1883]
Cleeve
Goring
Whitchurch
Maple Durham
Caversham
Sonning
Shiplake
Marsh
Hambleden
Hurley
Temple
Marlow
Cookham
Boulter's
Bray
Boveney
Windsor [Romney]
Old Windsor
Bell Weir
Penton Hook
Chertsey
Shepperton
Sunbury
Moulsey
Teddington
[Richmond Half tide 1894]
For this list, as well as for some other valuable information, we are indebted to "The Oarsman's Guide", a little book, so small as to fit the waistcoat-pocket, but which no voyager of the Thames should be without.

THE LAMPREY AND LAMPERN

LAMPREY AND LAMPERN

The Lamprey (Petromyzon marinus) and the Lampern (Petromyzon fluviatilis) are both obtained at Teddington: the former occasionally, the latter periodically during winter in large quantities.
"These fishes are, in reference to their skeleton, and in some other respects, the lowest on the scale of organization among vertebrated animals;"
they are cartilaginous, and live by suction, their mouth being so formed as to induce a very powerful contact with the object to which they are attached, whether to stones, to prevent their being swept away by currents, or to the prey to which they adhere, "their small, numerous rasp-like teeth eating away the soft parts down to the bone."
The Lampern is rarely eaten, but the fishery at Teddington furnishes a large supply to Holland, where they are used as bait for cod and turbot.
"Formerly the Thames alone supplied from one million to twelve hundred thousand annually to the Dutch";
but of late years the fish have become comparatively scarce. They are caught in eel-baskets and are remarkably tenacious of life. When attached to any object, the water obtains access and egress by seven small apertures on each side of the neck; hence its popular name of "seven eyes". They are of a dusky colour, not unlike the eel, which they resemble in other particulars. *
* The generic character is thus given by Yarrell:—
"Body smooth, elongated, cylindrical, like that of an eel; the head rounded; the mouth circular, armed with hard, tooth-like processes, the lip forming a continuous circle round the mouth; seven apertures on each side of the neck, leading to seven bronchial cells; no pectoral or ventral fins; the skin towards the tail extending in a fold from the body both above and below."

STRAWBERRY HILL

STRAWBERRY HILL

Those who visit Teddington will do well to walk up the village and examine some ancient houses, with some of which enduring memories are associated; especially they will ascend a small hillock to visit Strawberry Hill. Of late years it has undergone many alterations; we have preferred to picture it in its zenith, when in the full enjoyment of its fame — such as that fame was.
Strawberry Hill, the favourite residence of Horace Walpole, was built by him in 1747; but he was long afterwards employed in enlarging and improving it, as his collections of vertu increased. It was originally a small cottage built by a nobleman's coachman for a lodging-house, and tenanted by a toy-woman, named Chevenix: so Walpole, in one of his letters, declares his house to be "a little plaything house I got out of Mrs. Chevenix's shop." The style of architecture he adopted was the florid Gothic, and to him the merit is certainly due of directing attention again to its merits. However questionable we might now consider the taste that constructed a fire-place after the fashion of the tomb of Aylmer de Valence, in Westminster Abbey, it must be remembered that the true principles of mediaeval architecture had to be resuscitated; and that this study of original authorities was a step in the right direction, and infinitely better than the pseudo-Gothic of greater architects than Walpole. He succeeded in imparting a very picturesque character to his mansion, and it soon became a "show-house", so that its owner was besieged with visitors, and looked upon a wet day as his only chance of peaceably possessing it. In it he wrote his famous "Castle of Otranto", and his more famous Letters; and in the grounds he established a printing-press, amusing himself by producing therefrom luxurious editions of his own works and those of his friends. The mansion was very slightly built, being little more than lath and plaster; Walpole himself declared "he had outlived three sets of battlements": and on the occasion of the great sale here, a temporary building was erected in the garden, as the long gallery in which it was originally intended to be held, was believed to be too fragile to be filled with people. The extensive character of the collection he left may be gathered from the fact of twenty-four days being devoted to selling it. The lots averaged one hundred and fifty per day, consisting of books, prints, coins, and medals; paintings, and drawings of all ages and styles; and a vast collection which may be classed under the general name of "curiosities", embracing arms and armour, Roman pottery, Raffaelle-ware, porcelain of Dresden and Sevres, furniture of an ancient and curious kind, antique rings, snuff-boxes, and historic relics of much general interest — comprising, in fact, the combined results of a taste that seldom is found in one individual — partaking of the educated scholar, the curious book-worm, the lover of Art, the antiquary, and the collector of "nic-nacs"; for the house contained a variety that might suit the taste of all such persons. Walpole, at his death, bequeathed it to the Hon. Mrs. Damer, the lady sculptor, whose works on Henley Bridge we have already engraved. To her he left also the sum of £2000 for keeping it in repair; the reversion of the house to pass on her death to the Countess Dowager of Waldegrave: but Mrs. Damer gave it up to the latter lady before her own death. Walpole had managed, by entails and jointures, to secure his collections from being scattered through several generations; but, all legal obstacles being removed, the renowned George Robins "distributed" them in April and May, 1842. The greatest interest was excited, as the collection comprised very rare things, which had been comparatively unknown for the previous half century, and large prices were realized for the various lots. The present Countess of Waldegrave is, however, anxiously replacing in the old house such articles as she can recover; and though it will be hopeless to expect to restore a tithe of its original contents, every item regained will add to the general interest of the whole.

POPE'S VILLA WTSWG

Pope's Villa is the next remarkable residence after Strawberry Hill is passed, from which it is distant but a very short walk. Pope died before Horace Walpole had completed his purchase; but the house then remained in the condition in which the former had left it.

POPE'S VILLA

Our cut is copied from an engraving exhibiting it as in Pope's era. He purchased this house in 1715, and removed to it with his parents from Binfield. The high road from Twickenham to Teddington passed in front of the house, and the small piece of ground at the back, toward the Thames, was all the garden Pope could command without crossing the road, where the large garden was situated; he accordingly formed a tunnel beneath the road, and, decorating it with spars, it became "the grotto", so celebrated by his friends, and so ably described by himself, and immortalized by the verse he wrote for it. He had little care for money, and as he made more than he wanted for necessity, he spent it in continually improving his house and garden. Speaking of this once to Spence, he said,
"I never save anything, unless I meet with such a pressing case as is an absolute demand upon me; then I retrench fifty pounds or so from my own expenses. As, for instance, had such a thing happened this year, then I would not have built my two summer-houses."
His half-sister, Mrs. Racket, once said to the same person,
"It is most certain that nobody ever loved money so little as my brother."
He died at Twickenham in 1744, and was buried in the church, with his father and mother. After his death the house was sold to Sir William Stanhope, who added new wings to it, enlarged the gardens, and formed a second subterranean passage. His daughter marrying the Right Hon. Welborec Ellis (afterwards Lord Mendip), the estate passed into his hands, and he guarded with jealous care every relic of Pope. At his death Sir John Brisco succeeded to the ownership; and when he died it was unfortunately purchased by the Baroness Howe, in 1807, who at once ordered it to be destroyed, and erected a new mansion at the distance of a hundred yards from the site.
Pope's taste in improving his house and gardens certainly induced a dissemination of taste in general by other imitations, and he led the way to modern ornamental gardening. His favourite work was his grotto, which he constantly amused himself by adorning, and was constantly fond of descanting upon in very glowing terms to all his friends. Warburton says that "the improvement of this grotto was the amusement of Pope's declining years". He has left an interesting description of it in a letter to his friend Blount, written in 1725. He says —
"It contains a spring of clearest water, which falls in a perpetual rill, that echoes through the cavern night and day. From the river Thames you see through my arch up a walk in the wilderness to a kind of open temple, wholly composed of shells in the rustic manner; and from that distance, under the temple, you look down through a sloping arcade of trees, and see the sails on the river passing suddenly and vanishing as through a perspective glass. When you shut the door of this grotto, it becomes on the instant, from a luminous room, a camera-obscura, on the wall of which all the objects on the river, hills, woods, and boats, are forming a moving picture in their visible radiations. And when you have a mind to light it up, it affords you a very different scene. It is finished with shells, interspersed with pieces of looking-glass in angular forms; and in the ceiling is a star of the same materials, at which when a lamp of orbicular figure, of thin alabaster, is hung in the middle, a thousand pointed rays glitter and are reflected over the place. There are connected to this grotto, by a narrower passage, two porches, — one towards the river, of smooth stones, full of light, and open; the other towards the garden, shadowed with trees, and rough with shells, flints, and iron ores. The bottom is paved with simple pebble, as is also the adjoining walk up the wilderness to the temple, in the natural taste, agreeing not ill with the little dripping murmur and the aquatic idea of the whole place."
The porch and entrance to the grotto is seen in our engraving. Pope never tired over improving it, and composed the following inscription to be placed in it: —

Thou who shall step where Thames' translucent wave
Shines a broad mirror through the shadowy cave, —
Where lingering drops from mineral roofs distil,
And pointed crystals break the sparkling rill —
Unpolished gems no ray in pride bestow,
And latent metals innocently glow, —
Approach: Great Nature studiously behold,
And eye the mine, without a wish for gold!
Approach: but awful! Lo! th'Aegerian grot,
Where, nobly pensive, St. John sat and thought;
Where British sighs from dying Wyndham stole,
And the bright flame was shot thro' Marchmont's soul!
Let such, such only, tread this sacred floor,
Who dare to love their country, and be poor.

TWICKENHAM

Villas, many of them very fanciful in construction, now line the Middlesex bank of the river — few, however, being on the Surrey side — until we reach the populous village of Twickenham.
In the days of Pope and Walpole, Twickenham seemed likely to realize the prediction of the latter, "that it would become as celebrated as Baiae or Tivoli". It was the fashion to construct residences on the Thames banks, and to make the village a retiring place for the celebrities of London. Hudson, the painter, and the early instructor of Sir Joshua Reynolds, erected a dwelling near Pope's Villa, and in close contiguity to one built by Scott, "the English Canaletti", as he was termed, and the friend of Hogarth. Sir Godfrey Kneller — "Kneller, by heaven, and not a master, taught" — also retired to Twickenham to spend the latter years of his life. *
* He resided at Whitton, a hamlet of the parish. He built a substantial brick mansion there: the hall and staircase were painted by Laguerre, under his superintendence, but it is said to exhibit some of Sir Godfrey's own handiwork.
On a stone inserted in the church wall, noting a grant of space, to increase the limits of the churchyard, by the Duke of Somerset, in 1713, Sir Godfrey is named as one of the churchwardens. *
* He also officiated as a justice of peace for the county, and several amusing Storys are given of his adjudications in what he considered equity; in some instances quite opposed to the letter of the law. Thus, on one occasion, a soldier was brought before him for stealing a joint of meat, but, having pleadod that it was the butcher's fault for putting such a temptation in his way, Sir Godfrey took his view of the case, and discharged the man, giving the astonished butcher a severe reprimand! Pope has alluded to the decision in his lines —

I think Sir Godfrey should decide the suit;
Who sent the thief (that stole the cash) away,
And punished him that put it in his way.

EEL-PIE ISLAND WTSWG

TWICKENHAM AIT

The parish church is situated upon the edge of the river, but it is almost hidden from view by a large island, sacred to picnic parties, and known as Eel-pie Island, from the popular refreshment provided there. It is of considerable length, and has a house for the entertainment of water-parties, the whole of this "ait" being devoted to their service and use. A narrow arm of the Thames divides it from the village of Twickenham,

TWICKENHAM CHURCH WTSWG

TWICKENHAM CHURCH

and nearly opposite the middle of the island stands the church, in front of which is the old vicarage with its gardens. The church tower is an old stone fabric, apparently of the time of Henry VII. The body of the church was rebuilt in 1715: it had fallen to the ground on the night of the 9th of April, 1713 owing to neglect. It is chiefly remarkable as the mausoleum of Pope and his family. They are buried in a vault in front of the communion rails. Pope erected to the memory of his parents a tablet in the east wall of the north gallery; and upon the north wall a monument was erected to the poet himself, hy Bishop Warburton. *

POPE'S MONUMENT

* It is the one nearest the spectator in our engraving. The monument, at the extremity, to which the female figure points, is that which the poet placed to the memory of his parents. Beneath Pope's monument are the lines —

POETA LOQUITUR,
FOR ONE WHO WOULD NOT BE BURIED IN WESTMINSTER ABBEY.
Heroes and kings, your distance keep.
In peace let one poor poet sleep;
Who never flattered folks like you:
Let Horace blush, and Virgil too.

Pope expressly directed, in his will, that he should be buried "near his dear parents", and that he should be "carried to the grave by six of the poorest men of the parish, to each of whom I order a suit of grey coarse cloth as mourning".
It [Pope's monument] is of pyramidal form, of dark grey marble, with a medallion of the poet, as if suspended upon it, above which is a laurel wreath.
On the outer wall of the church, on the same side, is the tablet Pope placed to the memory of Mary Beach, "in gratitude to a faithful old servant", who had been his nurse and constantly attended him for thirty-eight years.
Near it is another tablet to the memory of Mrs. Clive — the "Kitty Clive" of Garrick's era; it bears a long rhyming inscription, commencing —

Clive's blameless life this tablet shall proclaim,
Her moral virtues and her well-earned fame.

After making a competency by her exertions as a comic actress, she retired to Twickenham, and resided at a house on the site of Marble Hill Cottage.
Mrs. Pritchard, the great tragic actress, on whom Garrick principally depended in his great plays, also lived at Raymons Castle, close by.

HAM HOUSE

HAM HOUSE

On the right bank of the river, the long line of Petersham Meadows terminates at the grounds of Ham House, which is almost hidden in a mass of noble trees which surround the house and grounds with their umbrageous foliage. This noble old mansion was built in 1610 (as appears by a date over the principal entrance) by Sir Thomas Vavasor, who was appointed, with Sir Francis Bacon, one of the judges of the Marshal's Court in the year ensuing. It was sold to the Earl of Dysart in the reign of James I., "whose widow, Katherine, on the 22nd of May, 1561[sic, however the date is obviously wrong], surrendered it to the use of Sir Lionel Tollemache, and Elizabeth his wife, her daughter, who, in the year following, surrendered it to the use of Sir Lionel's will." *
* Manning and Bray's "History of Surrey".
This daughter, by her second marriage, became Duchess of Lauderdale, and was remarkable for the political power she possessed, being one of the busiest women of a busy age. Burnet describes her as
"a woman of great beauty, but of far greater parts. She had a wonderful quickness of apprehension, and an amazing vivacity in conversation. She had studied not only divinity and history, but mathematics, and philosophy. She was violent in everything she set about; a violent friend, but a much more violent enemy."
After the Restoration she became the chief politician;
"she took upon her to determine everything; she sold all places; and was wanting in no methods that could bring her money, which she lavished out in a most profuse vanity."
The small dull chamber in which she is traditionally reported to have received the king and courtiers, is still preserved intact; and her favourite chair still remains there, with her reading-desk and walking-cane beside it. The interior of the mansion is an excellent specimen of the noble houses of that era; the ceilings are painted by Verrio, and the ornaments and furniture display the massive magnificence of decoration then in fashion; the bellows and brushes in some of the apartments are encased in silver ornament, and the several drawing-rooms contain valuable and interesting relics in profusion; few mansions in England are more crowded with pictures and objects of vertu than this. The long gallery is hung with portraits of the principal statesmen of the courts of the Stuarts. *
* In a small room.adjacent, the famous opposition ministry to Clarendon, known as the "Cabal" (from the Initials of the names of the five noblemen who formed it), was wont to meet, It is still called "The Cabal Chamber".
A full description of this interesting: house, with many illustrations may be found in "The Baronial Halls" (vol. ii.), edited by S. C. Hall, F.S.A.

ORLEANS HOUSE

ORLEANS HOUSE

On the left bank a pleasant field-path leads to Richmond, over fertile meadows, studded with noble mansions. The first of importance after passing the ait is Orleans House, a noble mansion of red brick with white quoins. Here resided the Princess of Denmark, afterwards Queen Anne. The young prince, her son, used to amuse himself by exercising a troop of boy soldiers on the ait we have spoken of. Caroline, Queen of George II., was once entertained here by the then proprietor of the mansion, who on that occasion built the octagon room, which forms so conspicuous a feature in the view. It bears the name of Orleans House, from having been rented by the Duke of Orleans at the commencement of the present century; and here Louis Philippe, afterwards King of the French, passed some of the happiest years of a life of unusual adventure. In the course of the changed fortunes that awaited the family of that sovereign after his abdication of the throne of France, the house has again become the home of one of his sons.

MARBLE HILL

Next is Marble Hill; it was designed, and the building superintended, by Henry, Earl of Pembroke, the estate having been purchased, and the house erected, by King George IT., for the Countess of Suffolk.

PETERSHAM

A very pleasant walk from Ham leads to the pretty and retired village of Petersham, on the high road between Richmond and Kingston. It was famous in times long gone by, but is now chiefly remarkable for the well-known establishment of Dr. Ellis — Sudbrook Park — renowned for its "water-cure", by which many have obtained happiness with health. We believe there is no place of the kind throughout the kingdom better conducted; the principle, adopted with so much success, is no doubt greatly aided by the pure air, the tranquillity of umbrageous walks, the close vicinity to Richmond Park, and that relief from thought and labour which best ministers to disease, either of body or mind.

THE STORY OF PETER PETERSHAM

Petersham is very closely associated with our earliest and pleasantest memories of the Thames: many years have passed since we occupied a small cottage in that quiet village; and with it not a few of our happiest associations are connected. We ask leave of our readers, therefore, to introduce to them one of these "memories"; desiring to make them acquainted with a character who cannot yet have been entirely forgotten in that quiet and comparatively unaltered neighbourhood.
Peter Petersham — we knew him a long time ago in the pretty village of Petersham; his name was Peter, and so we always called him Peter Petersham, or Petersham Peter — it did not matter which.
He was then a stalwart green-eyed man — indeed we fancied he had a green-toned skin — and his hair looked more like a tangle of green water-plants than human hair — it was so damp and clinging.
We seldom strolled without meeting him in the lane that led from the corner of our cottage garden to the noble avenues and quaint imaginings of Ham House, where old Lady Dysart then resided, and used to drive out of those stately gates (which seemed intended to send forth only stately carriages with six portly horses — the carriages containing only big wigs and high heads) in a tiny carriage drawn by a pony, who seemed to think his life depended on his swiftness. A wonderful old lady she was — nearly ninety — quite blind, highly rouged, and wearing a round black hat, and a cloth something, that seemed an ancient riding-habit. It was pleasant to see the "turn-out" bowling along the avenue.
As we have said, we seldom reached the superb trees without encountering Petersham Peter, looking as if he were the river god, who kept his cold guard in the midst of the stately "pleasaunce" — all walled in so grim and green — and had been suddenly seized with a desire for roving, to ascertain if the world was going on as it did in the days of old Lady Lauderdale. Peter was very erect, and looked as if his figure were draped for effect; his garments hung loosely about him, and he carried a dangling fishing-net on a pole, with several eel-baskets and indescribable things he used for Thames fishing, or poaching, or anything "handy".
Sometimes you came upon him stretched at his full length upon a bank sloping to the Thames; however sleepy or heavy he might look, be sure he was watching a kingfisher, or noting if any particular "jack", or miraculous eel, made their water-home in his immediate neighbourhood.
Sometimes while rowing round an "ait", or crossing to Twickenham, Peter was seen rising from among the reeds or rushes, or leaning in one of his most picturesque attitudes by the hollow trunk of an aged willow. Sometimes you met him in Richmond Park, and he knew every dell and tree, and could tell you where the "liveliest snakes", and greenest lizards, and best flies for fly-fishing, were to be found. He called bottom fishing "mud-grubbing", and always said that whoever was fond of catching fish in an unnatural, "unlecgitimate" way, deserved hanging. What Peter's unnatural and unlegitimate way of catching fish was is more than we believe was known: he had his own ideas on the subject, and very quaint and original they doubtless were; but our own opinion was, that Peter caught fish, or aught else, when and how he could, without reference to any standard of right or wrong. We have said that a long pole, with a landing-net dangling from one end, rested on his shoulder; he also carried no end of rods, and lines, and traps for moles or beetles — queer implements only comprehended by himself.

He was a good practical entomologist, though he made rare mistakes with the scientific names, which he always attempted; and whenever he had a rare specimen to show, he would suddenly drop all his paraphernalia on the grass, and beckoning to you in a peculiarly mysterious manner, exclaim, —
"Ah! ah! now for a sight; he be a wonder! I never did see — there he be! I got un! — in vulgaris a genu-ine[sic] mole cricket, but proper Grigollot taltapa vulgares. Ah! ah! ah! Let un alone, miss — you do be always wanting to touch un; you'll get bitten some time. You'd pull a snake by the tail, you would; or a toa-ad[sic] out on his hole — never did see sich a young lady. 'Taint fem-enine[sic] to have no fear. Young ladies as I know come down from Lon'on for a day's pleasure; they go hootin' and screamin' and faintin', they do, at their own shadder — pretty little innocent dears they be. But, loak! they got no sense— no, not a bit o' sense; fear'd o' frogs — don't know a frog from a toa-ad; fear'd o' earwigs, scream into next week at a spider, and doan't know an eel from a sarpent — that's edication! They cum to me, and they say,
'Mister — what's your name?'
An' I say, 'Peter.'
An' they say, 'I want a nightingale, Mr. Peter.'
An' I say, 'Do 'ee?'
An' they say, 'Yes; I want a nightingale to take to town this evening; and you must engage it to live and to sing — only it mustn't sing too loud; and it must be quite tame, and eat out on my hand.'
Them's the sort o' knowledge they have! — t'expect the bird that's born to freedom and fresh air, that the hand o'man was never intended to rest on, to be tame, and to be sure to live, like one of them dirty sparras!
I knew a chap once — he was a rare one — well, he sold one of them wise young uns a sparra for a nightingale; he pulled some feathers out of it to make it look slim.
The innocent look of the young un when she said, —
'Oh, it's a brown bird!'
'Yes, miss,' he says.
'I wish you would make it sing just a little now for me to hear it.'
'I can't, miss — it's a nightingale, not a dayingale.'
'Ye'r sure it's a nightingale?'
'Honour bright as the Thames in sunshine.'"
"Then", we exclaimed with one voice, "Peter, it was you who sold the young lady a sparrow as a nightingale; for you always, when you tell a great story, or commit a great fraud, say, 'Honour bright as the Thames!'"
"Do I, miss? Well, maybe it was me — maybe I was taken in meeself — maybe I didn't find the differ until it was sold", and Peter laughed.
"Ah! ah! the fun was, one of the company said it was as like a sparra as one pea is like another; how I did laugh to myself, for she grew quite offended like, and insisted that this was a light brown bird, but that a sparra was next to black. She had Lonnon sparras in her eye, pretty dear!"

Petersham Peter would cheat yon whenever and wherever he could; he had a supreme contempt for all who were not as conversant with country concerns as himself; and, if possible, he entertained a still greater contempt for those who did not render due homage to the river Thames. Peter did not deny that there were other rivers in the world, but he was indifferent, quite indifferent about them; they might be longer, and broader, and deeper — but they were not the Thames!
"Lookee", Peter would say, when, from a mere love of mischief, we drew depreciating comparisons between the Thames and other rivers — we mean, when we depreciated the Thames- — "lookee, it's all very well to say there be finer rivers, and I say. Show un, and they never do show un; so why should I believe un?"
"You wont go and see them, Peter?"
"Why should I? Ain't I well here ? Can't I see every cloud that passes in that clear water, without the trouble of lookin' up? Doesn't the Lord Mayor, and the kings of all the nations of the yearth, stand on Richmon' Hill — the band playin' and the barges goin' — and bless the 'lmighty Father for their eyesight to show un sich a river? Likely they'd come here to look at un, if she wasn't the finest upon yearth;
the birds o' y'air sing sweeter upon her banks than they do in Windsor forest — it's a fact.
An' as to fish! match me Thames eels in Europe, that's all. Doesn't the king of the French send for 'em ? Finer rivers, is there? I say. Show un.
The Thames is my fayther and mother too; I never knowed any other — I don't own any other. Wasn't I found in a clump o' withies, a roaring- agin' a March wind? And Mathey Prongs, the ould angler, didn't he first think I was a fish, and threw his rod at me over the bed o' yellow water-lilies, and when the hook struck me, I stopt roarin', and laughed.
Ah! ah! So he knew I was a Briton, and worth the rareing, and brought me home rowled up in his landin' net. And didn't the dame — Dame Prongs— (my mammy I calls her) — didn't she feed me up on roach, and dace, and gudgeons, and eels?
And when was I, from the time I could go alone, a day out of the waters o' the Thames? It wouldn't drown me, or gi'e me cold; it was mother's milk to me. Didn't I play with the cygnets until the swans thought me of their own brood ? The water-coot wouldn't leave her eggs while I counted them;
and though I'm not a reg'lar anything— not boatman or fisherman — I makes a good livin' at times out on its waters, at times out on its banks. Sure I've a right to speak o' my own Thames! There isn't a rower, a punter, or a barger from Oxford to Kew that doesn't give me good morra or good night by land or water."

Years came and went — they are ever coming and going — all of mingled sunshine and shadows: the sunshine very bright — the shadows, thank Him who orders both, seldom deepening into gloom. Sometimes we spent our summers abroad, sometimes among our own islands, amid its hills and valleys, its palaces and cottages, enjoying its rivers and its lakes — enjoying, and not unfrequently agreeing with Peter, that there might be finer rivers than the Thames — only "show un".
The few persons we knew at Petersham had quitted it, or added to the mounds in its churchyard. We seldom went to Richmond without inquiring about Peter; but we never heard of him; he was nowhere seen; his haunts knew him no more: his name even seemed forgotten.
Lately we have been mightily taken with aquaria; there is great fascination in our mimic lakes, whether of fresh or salt water, in their glass enclosures. We like to see our fish sporting amid forests of valisneria, and the zoophytes clinging literally to their native rocks. One of our practical friends, whose vivarium is our admiration (perhaps our admiration is mingled with a little envy), in a most generous and disinterested manner offered to send us his wise man — not of the woods, but of the rivers — a most wonderful old man, who knew every water-plant, every insect, every fish and creeping thing to he found near, or in, the waters of the Thames. It was very generous thus to open to us the floodgate of his own knowledge; we could not help sighing when we thought of poor Petersham Peter — what a treasure he would be to us now — what plants, and water insects, and fish we should have! And then we might "out-Herod Herod"; we might introduce our wise man to our friend, and between the two wise men we should rival Mr. Mitchell and his acres of vivaria in the Zoological Gardens. But Peter must have long ago gone home; he was an old man thirty years back.
Our friend's wise man came: at a distance he looked like a doubled-up fishing-rod, with its loose case hanging about it. He was stooping over a very dirty, rusty tin can. We could not at first see his face — when we did, it was so tangled and matted over with grizzled hair, that, except for the rapid movement of his very restless but human eyes, it might have been the face of an enlarged Skye terrier — it was literally all hair.

We asked what he had brought, and the contents of the can, whose names, as he poured them out, would have formed addenda to Yarrell's "British Fishes"; many of them were new to us, perhaps it was from the manner in which the old fisherman pronounced their names.
He was certainly very old — the veins and muscles of his hands were lined and netted under the horny skin like fret-work — surely warm, gushing, life-sustaining blood could not creep, much less flow, through these ossified veins! He had by a restless movement of his head thrown back his hair from a high, narrow forehead, and there the skin seemed literally pleated — furrow after furrow of bronzed skin — fold upon fold. He would have been more interesting, though probably less picturesque. if lie had been something cleaner; hut that was hardly to he expected. Still he was a picture Rembrandt would have copied; had he been dressed for effect, the effect probably would not have been so good, — there was marvellous relief to the blue jacket and loose trowsers[sic] in the deep red waistcoat, and bright (dirty bright) folds of what looked like an Indian scarf wound round his throat, one end tossed over his shoulder, the other descending below his waist; the wonderful folds and shadows of his hair and beard, — the strange markings, such iron-pen markings, on his brow and hands, — his wrists rugged and gnarled as the "crouch oak" at Addlestone, that has numbered five hundred years, — his back bowed, — his marvellous leanness, and the deep booming of his voice, echoing as if from an empty cask suddenly inspired by vitality, — his eyes, too, blinked and glittered when he stooped over the large can, we saw their reflection in the water like twin balls of fire.
He was a strange old man — so strange and unlike any creature we had ever seen, that while he bent and bowed over his can, drawing up first one, and then another little sparkling floundering fish out of the water, we gave no heed to his words, but simply looked at him; at last, dropping one of those abominable loaches — they are always making believe to die, yet they never do die, and are so greedy- — well, dropping a panting loach into the can, he exclaimed —
"What 'ill un buy? will un buy nothing? there's no more suitable fish for vivarrummis[sic] to be had, — all as tame as silky lambs, — cum when ye whistle, wag their tails, eat out of un hands. Bless 'ee, I 've got lizards would follee un over the house like dogs, and won't drink Lunnon water — there! I'm tellin' no lie, HONOUR BRIGHT AS THE THAMES IN SUNSHINE!"

"And you", we said, "you are Petersham Peter!"
The old man drew himself up as erect as he could, and looking strangely about, exclaimed in a low, husky voice,
"Who said that? say un agin."
"You are Petersham Peter!"
He advanced slowly towards us, shading his bewildered eyes with his hand, peering awfully into our face, examining us feature by feature. At first his eyes gleamed brightly, then they became dark and dull, and heaving a heavy sigh, he turned away —
"I doant know 'ee, I never saw un before."
"Yes, Peter, you did, — years ago, when we were young", — and we recalled such little incidents as had made impression on our own minds.
"Ah! ah! mole-crickets, and nightingales, an' pleasant meadows — sweet hay — cygnets. Ah! and the ould little grand lady in her flying carriage, she went to dust sooner than Peter.
"Ah! You never know'd harm of ould Peter, did ye? Did ye?" he repeated almost fiercely.
"No, Peter — never!"
"I wouldn't ha' wronged the noble river of a can of water! I loved it, — you know I loved it I My own river! I always said when they talked of finer rivers, 'Show un', but they never did, though they sent me to seek un, away — away over the sea.
It was no great harm I done, to send an old man out of his country; they thought I'd never live to cum back, but I did, ye see:
but I 'm not Petersham Peter now. I've never been that side o' Lunnon since" —
he paused, and then smoothing his hair down he made a sort of bow, assuming a low, querulous tone,
"I'm a very old man, lady, and no clear in y'n brain, or y'n eye; I'm broken all-the-gather. I keeps Greenwich way, and gets me little live stock out of rain-full streams and green-jacketed pools, I does", —
he looked round stealthily, and added,
"they doan't know me Greenwich way — they never did. Some night I'll try to watch for moonshine, and just ha' one look over the hill, before I die, at the gay river.
Only when I cum agin, don't call me that name. Maybe, if ye did, some one, unawares, might ask for my ticket o' leave, and, hush! I got none; but I'm not worth sendin' out o' the country agin. I'm not clear y'n brain, or y'n eye!" He paused, shook his head, and while mechanically dipping up his fish in the miniature landing-net, he soliloquized, glancing dreamily at us —
"It cum so stunnin', yet so sweet it cum over me — so queer,
'Petersham Peter,' just like a boat hail from tother world!
I wish I knew rightly who you be!
You can't be she; she was slim as rod osier, and wonderful fond of letting all my fish go out of the well o' the boat right into the river. Ah! ah! Turn all the eels out of the pots, if she could, and wouldn't spit an emperor of Morocco—vulgaris. Ah, dear! I forget it. She was as bright a young un as the Thames in sunshine! No, no! why, you'd make two o'she! an' yet, how be it?
Petersham Peter!"

RICHMOND HILL

VIEW FROM RICHMOND HILL

Perhaps in England there is no single view so beautiful as that obtained from the summit of Richmond Hill; nay, it is scarcely too much to say there is nothing more charming in the world. Such is the opinion of many foreigners who have beheld the landscape attractions of all lands, and such is surely that of those who, having travelled long and far, return to their own country with a confirmed conviction that Englishmen find nowhere any scenery so delicious as that they possess "at home". No doubt there is much that is wider, and broader, and grander — more magnificent and more comprehensive — which voyagers elsewhere may enjoy, but none within the same limits so gifted with surpassing loveliness. The scene from Richmond Hill has, therefore, been at all times a fertile theme of the poet and the painter, although neither art nor language can render it sufficient justice.

Heavens! what a goodly prospect spreads around
Of hills and dales, and woods and lawns, and spires,
And glittering towns, and gilded streams!

Such was the exclamation of one of the many poets who have offered homage to "the Hill"; we may quote another: —

Where Thames along the daisied meads
His wave in lucid mazes leads —
Silent, slow, serenely flowing,
Wealth on either side bestowing.

But, in fact, there are few whom the Muse has not stirred into life, when gazing from either of the adjacent heights upon a scene so entirely beautiful — at once so gentle and so grand, so graceful and so rich.

RICHMOND HILL

As we approach Richmond from Twickenham, and pass a slight projection at Ham, we come in sight of "the Hill". From the river the rise appears very slight: on the summit are several good and "tall" houses, the most conspicuous of which is the far-famed "Star and Garter" inn; and here all visitors will linger, entering either its prettilly arranged grounds or its stately chambers for refreshment, and gazing from one of its windows over the thick and apparently dense foliage that seems to cover the whole valley underneath, through which the all-glorious father meanders "silent, slow", the source of that green fertility which makes the landscape "beautiful exceedingly". *
* So close are the trees, and so little can be seen of the intervening meadows and gardens, that a story is told of an American from the Far West, whose eye, having been accustomed to endless and trackless forests, saw the beauty as a blemish, and declared it to be his opinion that "the valley wanted clearing."
"The eye, descending from the hill", marks the tortuous course of the river, above and below, glances among "the palace homes of England", and watches the gay boats, of "all sorts and sizes", that float upon the surface, issue from tiny creeks, or continue moored beside lawn-slopes: gaze where we will, there is ever something to stir the heart, and justify that love and pride of country which rivals or foes attribute to Englishmen as a vice!
The distant views from any of the heights are as fair and beautiful as those immediately around and underneath.
Looking over Richmond Park we behold stately Windsor;
further off, the hills of Buckinghamshire — the historic Chilterns;
and nearer, those over Runnymede and Chertsey.
Turning eastward, we look on many of the steeps that, rising above the Lower Thames, fling their shadows on the sails of a hundred nations, thronging that part of the great highway of the world which lies between the Nore and London Bridge. Surely the tourist may exclaim, and justly, —

Earth hath not anything to show more fair,

challenging the wide world to produce a scene which so happily combines the grand and the beautiful —

In wondrous perspective displayed,
A landscape more august than happiest skill
Of pencil ever clothed with light and shade:
An intermingled pomp of vale and hill,
City and naval stream, suburban grove,
And stately forest where the wild deer rove;
Nor wanted lurking hamlet, dusky towns,
And scattered rural farms of aspect bright.

A gate on the summit of the hill leads into Richmond Park, The public enjoy a right of entrance, and it is pleasant to know that the right is rarely or never abused. The park was first enclosed by Charles I., but there were certain neighbouring owners who "could not be prevailed upon to alienate their property upon any terms". His majesty, however, seems to have convinced those "village Hampdens"; notwithstanding that the affair "made a great clamour, and the outcry was that he was about to take away his subjects' estates at his own pleasure." Jerome, Earl of Portland, was made the first ranger, in the year 1638. In 1649 the park was given "to the City of London, and to their successors for ever". At the Restoration it found its way back to the Crown, of which it is now a mere appanage of comparatively little value, although her Majesty has sought to make it practically useful by presenting some of its residences to men who are, or have been, benefactors of their country.

THE SHREW-ASH

THE SHREW-ASH

At that end of the park where a gate leads to Mortlake, and near a cottage in which resides one of the most estimable gentlemen of the age — Professor Owen — there still lives and flourishes a tree that has been famous for many ages: it is the Shrew-ash. It is interesting to note how little odds and ends of superstitions are rooted, like wild prim- roses, in out of the way wilds — the nooks and corners of our intellectual country. It is so difficult to define where faith ends, and superstition begins, that sometimes we lose sight of irrationality, in sympathy with the sentiment that is blended with the superstition. The shrew-ash is only a few yards beyond the pond which almost skirts the Professor's lawn — where herds of dappled deer come fearlessly from the high ground of the park to drink at early morning, and again while the sky is yet glowing with the tints of the setting sun. This venerable and celebrated tree stands on rising ground.
White, in his "Natural History of Selbourne", describes a "shrew-ash" as
"an ash whose twigs or branches, when gently applied to the limbs of cattle, will immediately relieve the pains which a beast suffers from the running of a shrew-mouse over the part affected, — for it is supposed that a shrew-mouse is of so baneful and deleterious a nature that wherever it creeps over a beast, be it horse, cow, or sheep, the suffering animal is afflicted with cruel anguish, and threatened with the loss of the use of the limb. Against this evil, to which they were continually liable, our provident forefathers always kept a shrew-ash at hand, which, when once medicated, would maintain its virtues for ever. A shrew-ash was made potent thus: into the body of the tree a deep hole was bored with an auger, and a poor devoted shrew-mouse was thrust in alive, and plugged in, no doubt with several quaint incantations long since forgotten. As the ceremonies necessary for such a consecration are no longer understood, all succession is at an end."
The shrew-ash in Richmond Park is, therefore, amongst the few legacies of the kind bequeathed to their country by the wisdom of our ancestors. We once knew a queer, spiteful, old Kentish gardener, who suggested, in open defiance of legendary lore, that it would be far wiser to bury a shrew wife under an ash, than stop up a poor innocent shrew-mouse in it. He laughed to scorn all superstitions; and many of his old neighbours believed he would live and die a "cast away", he was so fond of holding everything connected with "good old times" in utter contempt.
Our readers will perceive that across the hollow of the tree near the top there is a little bar of wood: the legend runs that were this bar removed every night, it would be replaced in the same spot everv morning! How? Who can tell how? The legend calls the fact "established", and so we are bound to believe it. The superstition now is, that if a child, afflicted with what the people in the neighbourhood call "decline", or whooping-cough, or any infantine disease, is passed nine times up the hollow of that tree, and over the bar, while the sun is rising, it will recover. If the charm fail to produce the desired effect, the old women believe the sun was too far up, or not up enough, or the "verse " (for we have been told there is a spoken charm) not properly repeated. If the child recovers, of course the fame of the tree is whispered about, — for the oldest crone would hardly dilate on such a subject in her usual voice at mid-day. There is an Irish saying that " every whisper has four wings", and thus the tale spreads. There is a sort ot shrew-mother to every shrew-ash — the veriest ancient in the parish; withered and bent, with lean arms and long fingers, that clutch her staff, her picturesque scarlet cloak giving that life to the landscape of which painters never tire. She acts as guide and teacher to any young mother who has an afflicted child — and faith in the charm; and the two may be seen in the grey light of morning — the little creeping crone, and the tall girl enveloped in a cloak or large shawl, beneath whose folds is cherished her precious burthen. She follows through the long dewy grass, and heeds nor deer nor cattle; but she fears the chill air will make her darling worse, though she dare not say so, for she must not anger the aged crone even if she handle the child roughly, as she thrusts it up and passes it over, under and over, until the accomplishment of the mystic nine. The child wails, of course, but that is not heeded by the sybil: it is speedily pressed to the warm bosom of its mother, and they creep away stealthily, half ashamed or afraid to be seen by their neighbours.
The shrew-ash in Richmond Park is still used and still firmly believed in, the superstition having by no means entirely lost its force. The friend who communicates this fact to us has more than once seen at daybreak a young mother, with her sick babe, resorting to the ash for cure, and eagerly watching under its withered branches the first streak of sunlight in the east. *
* Superstitions regarding trees have been rife in every age and country, and may be referred to the "sacred groves" of the ancient idolaters, or the custom of consecrating trees to particular divinities, tinctured with the prevailing superstition of the more modern nations of the north, and tinged with a darker belief in mysticism. Hence the witch-hazel is believed to be as efficacious as the horse-shoe in preventing the incursions of a witch for evil purposes, if a branch be fastened over a door. But for charms in disease, no tree has been so much used as the ash, which, in addition to the power it is supposed to possess, as narrated above, was also believed to cure other diseases. If the wound made in the tree was bound with packthread, the child recovered as the tree recovered; but the life of the patient depended so entirely on that of the tree, that if it was wilfully destroyed the disease returned and terminated in death.

RICHMOND

We must descend the hill and enter the ancient village — the now populous town of Richmond. We cannot long delay, although it is full of associations, any one of which might demand a chapter instead of a line. It is, however, essential that we visit the church, and then stroll to the green, in order that we may stand on the site of the ancient palace, "to which the former kings of this land, being wearie of the citie, used customarily to resorte, as to a place of pleasure, and serving highly for recreation."
At Richmond resided Nicholas Brady, and here he translated and versified the Psalms.
Here lived, and in the church is buried, James Thomson; * here he

Sung - the seasons and their change;

and manv memories of him are preserved in the house where he resided, "in unaffected cheerfulness, and general, though simple elegance."
* Thomson lived in a small cottage in Kew Lane. It has been enlarged and altered since his time. There was no monument to his memory in the church, until the Earl of Buchan placed, in 1792, a brass plate in the north aisle to denote the spot where he was buried, June 29, 1748, "for the satisfaction of his admirers", as the inscription states, "unwilling that so good a man and sweet a poet should be without a memorial."
There are few who walk through the fair town, or row along the waters that lave its banks, who will not recall the graceful tribute of a brother poet —

Remembrance oft shall haunt this shore,
When Thames in summer wreaths is drest,
And oft suspend the dashing oar,
To bid thy gentle spirit rest!

RICHMOND CHURCH

RICHMOND CHURCH

Richmond Church has few old features, and the most remarkable monuments are on the exterior.
At the south-west angle is a marble tablet, executed by E. W. Wyon, to the memory of Barbara Hofland, authoress of "The Son of a Genius", &c. She was born at Sheffield, in 1770, and died at Richmond, November 9, 1844. "She endeavoured", says the inscription, "with Christian humility, to recommend, by her valuable example, the lessons inculcated in her writings." We knew her long and well, and to know her was a privilege. After a life of active and useful labour, and the calm and patient endurance of many trials, she rests amid the scenery she loved so well, and near the places she cherished most in her warm and tender heart. The world owes her much; she was one of its best teachers. Her works will endure longer even than the monument that records her name, for they are the experience of her own naturally devout mind, her generous sympathies, and her womanly wisdom.
Here, in later times, died and was buried the great actor, Edmund Kean. To his memory a simple monument *
* It consists of a medallion portrait, surrounded by drapery, and was erected in 1839. Kean died in the house adjoining Richmond Theatre, in May, 1833. This theatre was built under the superintendence of Garrick, and was frequently patronized by George III., when living at Kew. Many great actors have played there. It was here the accomplished actress and excellent lady, Helen Faucit, made her debut.
[A simple monument] has been erected by his accomplished son, "who, inheriting much of the father's genius, has avoided the "perilous pleasures "that led to death at the comparatively early age of forty-eight. There is no gentleman more thoroughly respected, or more entirely entitled to respect, than the younger Kean. If the stage owed a large debt to the acting of the father, it has contracted a larger to the son, for his judicious and liberal "management", and especially for having made its "means and appliances" sources of instruction as well as of delight.
Many other great men and women have left their names as perpetual memories in this neighbourhood: it is full of associations, and these, added to the charms of beautiful scenery, must ever keep for Richmond a fame unsurpassed by that of any other locality in the kingdom.

RICHMOND PALACE, SHEEN

REMAINS OF RICHMOND PALACE

On Richmond Green is all that now remains of the Old Palace of Sheen, *
* It is well known that this place received its present name by royal command in the reign of Henry VII., who was Earl of Richmond in Yorkshire. In Domesday it is not mentioned: a record of nearly the same antiquity calls it Syenes; the name was afterwards spelt Schenes, Schene, and Sheen. Some writers, founding their conjectures upon the latter word, which signifies bright or splendid, have supposed it to be expressive of the magnificence of the ancient palace." — Lysons.
[The Old Palace] consisting of a stone gateway, and a smaller postern gate beside it. Above the large gate is sculptured the arms of England, supported by the dragon and greyhound, indicating its erection in the time of Henry VII. Beside it may be traced a few portions of the old brickwork of the palatial buildings, with the characteristic reticulated pattern which gave diversity to the walls. It is believed to have been the entrance to the wardrobe court. *
* The arms over the great gate, though much decayed, are still clearly to be distinguished as those of King Henry VII., who was Earl of Richmond before he conquered his opponent, Richard III., on Bosworth Field. The supporters of the royal arms of Henry are unlike those of any other English monarch: the shield is supported by the red dragon of the House of Cadwallader, the last king of the Britons, from whom Henry claimed his descent, and the white greyhound of the House of York, as represented in our cut. Henry VIII. retained the dragon, but adopted the lion of England, instead of the greyhound, for his other supporter. The ancient name of Richmond was Sheen, signifying beautiful (from the German word, which still bears the meaning);
it was considered as part of the Manor of Kingston, in the Domesday Survey, when it was crown property.
Edward III. died in the mansion of Shene, at which time it was a pleasant retirement for the English sovereigns,
Henry V. rebuilt the palace, with "curious and costly workmanship", which was destroyed by fire in 1498.
Henry VII. immediately gave orders for the rebuilding of the palace, and ordained that it should be named Richmond, after his own title, before he had achieved the sovereignty of England on Bosworth field.
King Henry VII., and his son, Henry VIII., took much pleasure in the palace here, and frequently held tournaments and festivals at Richmond.
Henry VII. died in the palace;
Katherine, the first Queen of the eighth Harry, was confined here of a son;
and the Emperor Charles V. lodged here on his visit to England in 1552.
The manor was afterwards granted to Anne of Cleves, on her voluntary divorce from Henry VIII.; and Queen Mary and her husband, Philip of Spain, frequently resided in the palace, which was also a favourite with her successor, Elizabeth, who entertained the King of Sweden within its walls, when he visited England to make her a proposal of marriage.
She died here on March 24, 1603.
The sons of James I., Henry and Charles, both held the manor; and here the latter laid the foundations of his important Art-collections.
In 1627 the manor was settled on his queen, Henrietta Maria. After the execution of Charles, the parliament sold the manor.
Hollar has published a view of it as it appeared in the reign of Charles I. It was a picturesque edifice, abounding with towers and pinnacles.
On the Restoration the king restored it to the Queen-mother; and it was leased to Sir Edward Villiers. It was much dilapidated, and was soon afterwards pulled down.

BUCCLEUCH LODGE

The many attractions of Richmond, and its proximity to the metropolis — from which it is distant eight miles — have always made the neighbourhood a favourite of the high-born and the wealthy. A long list might be given of "great people" who have had their dwellings on the hill or on the river banks. Buceleuch Lodge is among the most conspicuous and the most beautiful as we reach its slope, just after passing the bridge, voyaging westward.

CHUB

There yet remain some of the fish of the Thames to which attention should be directed; and as we are approaching that part of the river where the sport of the angler terminates, we may describe two, although neither of them is found in abundance so low down. Richmond, however, has been always in favour with professors of the rod and line, and it is rarely we pass the banks of Buccleuch Lodge without encountering half a dozen punts; for during autumn the roach is numerous here, and of small barbel there is usually a plenty.

CHUB

The Chub is a shy fish, and although sometimes taken with the worm or gentle when bottom-fishing, it is more frequently caught on the surface with a mimic fly or cockchafer; and then under overhanging trees, where skill is requisite. They often grow to a large size in our river: we have more than once hooked a fish weighing five pounds. In its general aspect the chub resembles the dace, but is somewhat more taper; it is of little value as food, the flesh being poor and "waterish"; nevertheless, old Izaak gives an elaborate recipe for "dressing him" — for drying up his "fluid watery humour" — and for giving him such a sauce as may "recompense the labour."

POPE

POPE

The Pope, or "ruffe", is found in great abundance in many parts of the river; it bites greedily, and it is a common practice to take ladies to a "pope pitch", inasmuch as there is sure to be plenty of sport, the pope biting like the perch, and with a certainty of being hooked by a very small effort of skill. It resembles the perch, too, in other particulars, the fins being sharp and somewhat perilous to delicate fingers. It is small in size, seldom exceeding in length five or six inches. An idea prevails that the pope is a fish between the perch and gudgeon, but there is no foundation for it, other than its general likeness to the one, and its habitat being the gravelly bottoms frequented by the other.

THE THAMES ANGLING PRESERVATION SOCIETY

We cannot part from this branch of our subject — the pleasure supplied to anglers by the all-bountiful river— without a word or two of comment on "the Thames Angling Preservation Society" — a society by which much has been done to preserve the river from illegal nets, and to punish the poacher. Its formal meetings are held once a year at Richmond — in July. Its report is published annually: the excellent secretary, Henry Farnell, Esq., is indefatigable in his efforts to advance its purposes; every angler is bound to support a society which does so much to enable him to enjoy a day's ample sport in any of "the deeps", which it materially aids to preserve and to "furnish".

RICHMOND BRIDGE WTSWG

As, however, we shall not again have occasion to step on shore and examine the treasures of the river Flora, we may delay the reader awhile in order to present to him another bouquet of the wild flowers that grow so luxuriantly, and at the same time submit to his scrutiny a few of the insects concerning which his curiosity will be continually excited as he rows or wanders along its banks.

ELEPHANT HAWK MOTH

On the leaves of the Willow-herb we found a grotesque-looking creature, which at first sight appeared to be staring malignantly at us from his perch; but, on a nearer examination, those sinister eyes (as we thought them) proved to be mere painted resemblances of these organs; and, to carry out the illusion, the "spots" are situated on an enlarged portion of the body, representing a head, from which proceeds an apparent proboscis somewhat like an elephant's trunk, whence the creature has been named the Elephant Hawk-moth (Choerocampa Elpenor), of which this is the caterpillar state. It is of a dusky colour, and on the sides are several of the curious eye-like spots; but when seen from the front, with only the two larger spots visible, the appearance is somewhat startling. The true head and eyes are comparatively minute, and are situated at the end of the proboscis like portion of the body. The moth into which the "creature" is eventually transformed, presents a decided contrast to the weird aspect of its caterpillar form in its earlier state of existence, being a soft, elegant fly, beautifully painted with rose-colour and olive-brown: it may be frequently met with in the same situations as its caterpillar, either flying rapidly in the twilight, or at morning reposing inactive in some shaded and retired spot. It is, therefore, both curious and interesting.

ELEPHANT HAWK MOTH

CHINA MARK MOTH

There is a very charming little moth, called by collectors the China-mark Moth,
constantly met with in moist, reedy places, and, of course, found abundantly by the banks of the Thames.
This pretty species has white wings, elegantly marked with brown and grey.
Its caterpillar makes itself a curious habitation by cutting out portions of a leaf, and then attaching them together into a kind of portable tent, which accompanies the little animal in all its wanderings.

MEADOW CRANE'S-BILL

The botany of the river-side, as we have intimated, becomes far more scanty as we approach the more populous districts lying on either side, almost uninterruptedly until we reach London:
and we cannot without regret take leave of the fair Flora that has afforded us such unfailing pleasure and interest, from the very cradle of the infant stream in Gloucestershire, through its whole course down to our present position, whence, for a time, objects of more immediately human interest must occupy our attention.
We may notice one more favourite, which we have hitherto omitted to mention, but which forms a very striking and beautiful feature in most of the flowery groups that ornament the old locks, and conduce so much to their picturesque effect.
We allude to the Meadow Crane's-bill (Geranium pratense), a plant with elegantly cut foliage, and clusters of large bright purple flowers.

REED

The Reed (Arundo phragmites) must be familiar to every voyager on the Thames, whose banks are almost constantly edged with deep beds of this common though graceful plant. The presence of these reed-beds is a powerful aid in the picturesque effect of the "bits" for which this river is so famous: witness the good service they render in the foreground of pictures by Doddington, and other painters, to whom the Thames scenery is so dear; though, after all, in the best-painted picture we must still lose the peculiar charm of the reed — its graceful motion, as it rocks and waves its feathery crest in the wind. But besides playing its ornamental part so well, the reed is not without some pretensions to the useful, both in its natural position, where it serves to protect embankments and dykes for preventing the encroachment of the water, and also, when cut, for thatching, and various purposes of building and gardening.
Moreover, the flower-heads will dye wool green, and the roots are said to be useful as a medicine in bilious complaints; but for the accuracy of this crowning recommendation we cannot vouch from our own experience, for the tourist amid these charming scenes will have little need of a remedy "against the bile", — and so we contented ourselves with admiring the "effect" of our friends, the reeds, in situ. We have more than once directed the attention of the ornamental designer to the lessons he may receive from Nature on the banks of the river Thames.

RICHMOND RAILWAY BRIDGE WTSWG

[ I think the bridge referred to below must be Richmond Railway Bridge (built 1846). "Eastern boundary" is slightly ambiguous. It would be more correct to say "Southern boundary"
TWICKENHAM BRIDGE over A316 was not built until 1933 ]

Passing under the railway bridge, which crosses the Thames at the eastern boundary of Kew Gardens, we have them on our right hand for more than two miles. The left bank affords more diversity, and to that we direct special attention.
The first object which attracts the eye is a palatial building, now appropriated to the Female Naval Orphan Asylum. It was commenced by Lord Kilmurry as a residence, but has been greatly enlarged, and is now devoted to a high purpose — as one of those noble institutions which do honour to England, rendering memorable over the world the words, "Supported by Voluntary Contributions".

ISLEWORTH CHURCH

About half a mile brings us to Isleworth Church, with its ancient ivy-covered tower. The body of the church is of red brick, and was constructed in 1705.
It contains a few of the monumental brasses which were in the older edifice; one of them represents a knight in armour of the fifteenth century;
but the most curious is affixed withinside the Duke of Northumberland's pew, and is here copied;
it preserves the figure of one of the last of the English nuns, being to the memory of
"Margaret Dely, a syster professed in Syon, who deceased the VII of October, Anno 1561",
— during the short while the nunnery was restored to the Roman Catholic service in the reign of Queen Mary.

ISLEWORTH WTSWG

The village of Isleworth is chiefly devoted to garden-ground, and the growth of vegetables for London markets. Though never occupying a position in history, Isleworth is noted in our most ancient surveys,
Simon de Montfort encamped here with the refractory barons, in 1263;
and Fairfax fixed his head-quarters here in 1647.
It is a straggling, unpicturesque village, offering no inducements to delay the tourist.

SION HOUSE WTSWG

Sion House, which occupies the site of the ancient religious foundation, is close beside the church;
it was originally granted to a convent of Bridgetine nuns, by Henry V., in the year 1414:
they seem to have led a quiet life of much prosperity;
upon its dissolution, in the reign of Henry VIII., the revenue of the Convent of Sion was valued at the very large sum of £1731 8s. 4½d. per annum.
The king retained the desecrated buildings, and here imprisoned his unfortunate queen, Katherine Howard, while arranging her judicial murder.
The body of the same king rested here on the road to his mausoleum at Windsor. Edward VI., in the first year of his reign, gave the building and site to the Protector Seymour, Duke of Somerset.
On his attainder it was granted to the Duke of Northumberland, in whose family it has since remained, except during the short period when it reverted to the Crown during the reign of Mary — the forfeiture being occasioned by the ambition of the duke, whose son married the Lady Jane Grey: it was in Sion House she accepted the crown, having been conducted thence as queen to the Tower of London, so soon afterwards to die on a scaffold within its walls.
Queen Mary was induced to restore the nunnery at Sion, and endow it with the manor and demesnes of Isleworth. It was dissolved by Elizabeth, who, however, retained the lands until 1604, when they were again given to the Dukes of Northumberland.
The present house was constructed soon afterwards, and has some rich interior details. The exterior is singularly plain, a mere quadrangle of heavy stonework. It contains some fine pictures. One of the prettiest and pleasantest points on the river is the graceful Pavilion we have here introduced.

WATER PAVILION AT SION HOUSE

BRENTFORD, LOTS AIT, BRENTFORD AIT WTSWG

Brentford commences at the end of the walls of the park at Sion; but the greater part of the town is happily hidden by a long island thickly covered with trees. It is one of the most unpicturesque towns on the river, abounding in gas-works, factories, and distilleries; its streets presenting an appearance of dirt and neglect, heightened by alleys, the abodes of squalid poverty. A large part of the population are employed in the extensive market-gardens in the neighbourhood. The town takes its name from the small river Brent, which here flows into the Thames, rising in the adjoining county of Hertford, and pursuing a tortuous course through the centre of Middlesex. It is a small stream, but its junction with the Thames at an important locality led to the foundation, in very early times, of a village here, the establishment of a large nunnery on the opposite side of the ford materially aiding its growth.

KEW GARDENS

And so we arrive in sight of Kew Bridge; but before we row under it, we must step ashore to visit some of the attractions of this ancient and renowned village.
Kew — "the situation of which near the water-side might induce one to seek for its etymology from the word key or quay" — has been variously written at various times "Kayhough, Kayhoo, Keyhowe, Keye, Kayo, and Kewe." Lysons, half a century back, describes its greenhouse as famous, being 140 feet in length; and Darwin, about the same period, pictured its garden as "a crowning glory" -

So sits enthroned, in vegetable pride,
Imperial Kew, by Thames's glittering side.

The historian and the poet, could they rise from their graves, would see with wonder and delight the greenhouse and the garden of to-day, filled with the floral beauties of a hundred lands, — miles of walks among flowers under glass.
Inasmuch as there is an admirable and cheap guide-book for the use of visitors, compiled by the accomplished Curator, Sir William Hooker, we are relieved from the necessity of details descriptive of these beautiful gardens and conservatories: it will suffice to say that, although still the property of the Crown, and in charge of the Board of Works, the public are freely admitted every day, under a few needful restrictions; that the privilege is enjoyed by very large numbers daily; and that the result fully bears out the belief, that where advantages are given to "the people", they are neither lost nor abused by carelessness or cupidity. Cases of impropriety are rare, while it is certain that health, instruction, and gratification, have been largely derived from the means thus generously placed at the disposal of all.

RAILS-HEAD FERRY [Isleworth]

RAILS-HEAD FERRY [Isleworth]

Between Richmond and Kew there is no bridge; there are, however. three ferries, one of which we have introduced as a very picturesque "bit". It is that which leads to Isleworth, and is called the Rails-Head Ferry, a name it obtained before the introduction of those iron ways which now conduct tourists from London to the far-famed "Hill", and thence to "regal Windsor."

KEW PALACE

KEW PALACE

Although we do not delay the voyager by describing the gardens, we ask him to visit the ancient and venerable Palace, famous during

Good King George's reign,

and interesting now, although it is lonely and without inhabitant — standing as a striking and somewhat gloomy monument to record the libarality of the sovereign and his successors, who gave the adjacent grounds to the people. It was once the property of Sir Hugh Portman, "the rich gentleman who was knighted by Queen Elizabeth [I.] at Kew", and was built during the reign of James I., although it retains very little of the style of architecture of that period, being of red brick, but exceedingly plain and without ornament. In 1781 it was purchased by George III.; his queen, Charlotte, died there, and during many years it was the favourite suburban residence of the royal family.
Under the superintendence of her Majesty, the grounds were
"ornamented with various picturesque objects and temples, designed by Sir William Chambers, among which is one called the Pagoda, in imitation of a Chinese building, 49 feet in diameter at the base, and 103 feet in height."
No doubt this was a marvel at the time of its erection; it is still a conspicuous object from all adjacent parts, and the temples are attractions judiciously distributed.
It is more than delightful to escape in summer from the turmoil of the hot, dusty, London world, to the peculiar serenity and surpassing beauty of Kew; the gardens are so full of interest, so varied, so suggestive, and so instructive, that a much larger space than we can devote to the subject would fail to convey an idea of the treasures they contain; we are willing, therefore, to let fancy go back to the time of Queen Charlotte, whose love of nature laid the foundation of that which now yields — sometimes to many thousands in a day — so much of health, pleasure, and information. The square red "palace" — which her Majesty loved sufficiently well to select as a residence, above all others, after the death of her beloved husband- — seems lonely and silent in the midst of that fragrant paradise, where trees are bursting into bloom, and birds are pouring forth the rejoicings that specially belong to the "sweet month of May"; but there is no difficulty in peopling it with "the great" of the past, and seeing, by the light of history, the beautiful and brilliant family that once held court

Beside the Thames at Kew.

In those days the "gardens" were, like the palace, the exclusive property of the Crown: but when the latter ceased to be a "royal residence", our good and ever-considerate Queen, desiring to enlarge the circle commenced by Queen Charlotte, devoted the whole of the estate to the fruits of botanical research; and it was finally determined that the public should be admitted daily. Thus the "gardens at Kew" may be ranked amongst the great teachers, as well as the healthful luxuries, of the people.
It is delightful to see how truly this privilege is enjoyed by the various classes who visit Kew: the humble but well-dressed artizan and his family are generally "taken " with the beauty of the grounds and the marvels of the "House of Palms"; brilliant ladies, whose dresses rival the flowers in variety of tone and colour, linger in the "houses", or enjoy the charming promenades under shadows of lofty trees; the botanical student pores over the "specimens", both in the beds and in the houses- — too often, while alive to what is rare or curious, forgetting the beauty of the "wonderful works of the Creator". Long after the mere pleasure-seeker has returned to London by the rail or the river, you may observe two classes of persons lingering in Kew Gardens — the mere botanical student, and the artist, sketching for popular botanical publications, that add so much to the interest and the information of our drawing-rooms. Foreigners are especially delighted with Kew Gardens; the vegetation, the absolute green — so vigorous and fresh with us, is never so bright on the Continent as it in England; and however rare and wonderful the collections are in foreign lands, there is usually a slovenliness in their display which no English gardener could endure: our lawns excite the especial admiration of strangers, who are lavish of praise of our "good order" and "arrangement". To thoroughly appreciate "Kew Gardens" they should be repeatedly visited; the changing seasons vary the character of their loveliness: there is always something fresh to admire, something new to learn; and though the "new museum" is so totally devoid of architectural excellence as to be a blot where it might have been a beauty, yet its contents are of the greatest value and interest, and such as lead from the threshold of science by paths which the research and learning of great botanists render comparatively smooth and easy.

KEW GREEN

"Kew Green" is one of the most "quaint" and peculiar "bits" of scenery within ten miles of the metropolis. The church may be taken as the principal feature,— a clean, bright, stately English church, neither new nor old. This "green" is irregularly "flanked" by houses of all heights and qualities; some trellised, some bare and stately, others hid away in the bright foliage which climbs their walls; some standing boldly forward, others receding modestly behind trees.
The church stands on the west side of the green. Its graveyard contains the graves of several remarkable men, among whom may be named Gainsborough and Zoffany. Gainsborough was never a resident here: he resided for many years at Schomburg House, Pall Mall; it was at his own request that he was buried at Kew, beside the grave of his old friend, Kirby, author of a once celebrated work on Perspective; but Zoffany lived in the little hamlet called Strand-on-the-Green, which adjoins the [Kew] bridge on the Middlesex side of the river.

GAINSBOROUGH'S TOMB

Gainsborough's tombstone is the central slab in the foreground of our engraving. He had desired that his name only should be cut upon the stone; it is, therefore, simply inscribed,
"Thomas Gainsborough, Esq, died August 2nd, 1788, aged 61 years."
A similarly brief inscription records the death of his wife ten years afterwards. There is enough of the "country churchyard" yet remaining at Kew to make it a fitting resting-place for such a painter: one who has left us some of our most charming pictures of natural scenery. It is no unpleasant spot, for trees shadow it, and a free air is around. It is a more agreeable pilgrimage to the grave of Gainsborough than to the place of greater honour — the crypt of St. Paul's — where so many of his brethren lie. In a few years, however, Kew may be part of London; for buildings are rising rapidly between the sequestered village and the outskirts of the metropolis.

KEW BRIDGE WTSWG

KEW BRIDGE

The Bridge at Kew is a comparatively modern structure. Looking eastward [actually westward to Brentford Ait] a pleasant ait fortunately takes away from Kew and its river walks the view of "Brentford's tedious town."

MORTLAKE

Hence, in Middlesex, there is little to claim attention until we approach Chiswick;
while, on the Surrey side, we pass along by the side of osier beds, with nothing worthy of notice until Mortlake is reached.
"The name of this place has been generally supposed to be derived from mortuus lacus, or the dead lake";
in Domesday it is called "Mortlage".
Cromwell House, one of its attractions, has been recently pulled down. It is erroneously described as a residence of the Protector; but Mr. Lemon, of the State Paper Office, informs us that in the collection there are several letters dated thence by the Lord Henry Cromwell, of the reign of Henry VIII.
Dr. Dee, the famous astrologer, lived at Mortlake, in a house near the water-side, a little westward from the church; and here Queen Elizabeth came to visit him, and see his famous glass, into which he conjured spirits for magical purposes. He had attended Elizabeth before on frivolous errands of superstition, particularly when a wax image with a pin stuck in it was found in Lincoln's Inn Fields, and the queen and council were in great alarm lest it boded evil to her life. When the queen came to Mortlake in March, 1575, she did not enter Dee's house; "Her Majesty", he tells us, "being taken down from her horse by the Earl of Leicester, master of the horse, at the church wall of Mortlake, did see some of the properties of that glass, to her Majesty's great contentment and delight." *
* He records the incident in his very curious diary. The queen, who believed in his powers of judicial astrology, was desirous of seeing for herself the spirits he conjured in his magic crystal. She came from the palace, at Richmond, to Dr. Dee's house, but the funeral of the astrologer's wife had only been performed two hours before, which was the reason that her majesty would not enter the house. Aubrey tells us that Dee was buried in this [Mortlake] church "in the chancel, a little toward the south side."
Upon the ground where Dee's laboratory stood were afterwards erected the tapestry works of Sir F. Crane; they were established in 1619; and to this circumstance we are probably indebted for the possession of the famous cartoons of Raphael, purchased as copies for the artizan.
Leading from Mortlake are byways to Richmond and to Kew, through low and ill-drained grounds, principally market gardens. Here and there, however, we meet some stately manor-house, seated in solitary and aristocratic grandeur amid groups of ancient and wide-spreading cedars.

MORTLAKE CHURCH

MORTLAKE CHURCH

Mortlake Church is in part a very ancient edifice, dating so far back as 1348, although the earliest date on the building is 1543. *
* This date is on a stone over the belfry door, inscribed "Vivat R. H. S."
The outward door of the belfry is, however, said to be the only remaining part of the original structure. It is full of interesting monuments.

OLD SUMMER-HOUSE AT MORTLAKE

Mortlake is a long street of houses, with gardens to the Thames. Its chief feature from the river is a large brewery; but it has a few picturesque remains of old gardens, occasionally preserving an old "bit" of the scenery, which may serve to show its peculiar character — a mingling of the antique with the grotesque — relics of old grandeur in combination with squalid poverty — picturesque only in pictures.

BARNES WTSWG

That portion of Barnes which is called the Terrace immediately succeeds Mortlake; it is a pretty and pleasant row of houses, chiefly let as lodgings, the place being much in favour during the summer months.
The village lies further back from the river — a straggling village, with a cluster of houses surrounding a pond. Some parts of the church are said to be as old as the time of Richard I. *
* Mrs. Ann Baynard was buried here on the 10th June, 1697. We read in Lysons that
"she was so fond of the study of divinity that she learned Greek to read St. Chrysostom in the original; besides which she had numberless other accomplishments, on which, as she possessed them in common with many young ladies both of that and of the present age, I shall not enlarge."
There is not now the least trace of her monument, which was at the east end of the churchyard. The inscription is copied from Aubrey:—

Here lies that happy maiden who often said
That no man is happy until he is dead;
That the business of life is but playing the fool,
Which hath no relation to saving the soul;
For of all the transactions that's under the sun,
Is doing of nothing — if that be not done,
All wisdom and knowledge doth lie in this one.

The old "house" — Barne-Elms — in which Queen Elizabeth visited Sir Francis Walsingham, where lived Sir Henry Wyat, and where some time resided the poet Cowley, is one of the famous points of the district.

CASTELNAU VILLAS

Until we arrive at Putney, there is nothing to detain the tourist after he leaves Barnes, unless he desire a peep at several "cozy" houses, called the Castelnau Villas; we must, therefore, conduct him into Middlesex, and ask him to land at Chiswick, proceeding thence to the hamlet of Hammersmith.

CHISWICK WTSWG

There are few localities in the vicinity of London so interesting as the pretty and pleasant village of Chiswick. Its principal attraction is the charming and very beautifully decorated mansion of the Duke of Devonshire, with its delicious grounds and gardens.
"The house was designed and erected by Richard Boyle, Earl of Burlington, whose skill in architecture has been proved by his works, and whose encouragement of his favourite science greatly promoted the progress of that taste which has since produced so many fine architectural examples in this country."
The model which the architect generally followed is that of the Villa Capra, near Vicenza, the designer of which was the famous Palladio. It is magnificently furnished, and contains a collection of rare and valuable pictures.
Here Charles Fox died, on the 13th September, 1806;
and here George Canning "put on immortality", on the 8th of August, 1827.
The interest of Chiswick House is, however, surpassed by the church and churchyard of the village.
In the former the architect, Kent, the associate of Lord Burlington in the adornment of the house and grounds, reposes in the vault of his patron;
and here there is a fitting monument to Charles Whittingham, the printer, whose skill and taste gave to the Chiswick press a fame that " went over the world".
The graveyard contains the ashes of many persons of note:
the imperious Duchess of Cleveland here mingles with common clay;
here "repose the remains" of Cromwell's daughter, Mary;
here Holland, the actor, Garrick's friend, exchanged his motley for a winding-sheet;
here Lord Macartney, the pioneer to China, rests frum his labours;
here calmly sleeps a man of marvellous genius, the exile Ugo Foscolo;
here lies the painter Loutherbourg;
and here, still speaking from his sculptured tomb, reposes the great artist, William Hogarth.

HOGARTH'S TOMB

The monument was erected by a subscription among his friends, and the epitaph was written by Garrick: —

Farewell! great painter of mankind,
Who reach'd the noblest point of art;
Whose pictured morals charm the mind,
And throngh the eye correct the heart.
If genius fire thee, reader, stay;
If nature touch thee, drop a tear;
If neither move thee, turn away,
For Hogarth's honour'd dust lies here.

At Chiswick Hogarth lived, died, and was buried; and his house —
in which his predecessor was Sir James Thornhill,
and his successor the excellent and accomplished clergyman, Cary, the translator of Dante —
still stands, as a place of pilgrimage; it was his home, who, "while he faithfully followed Nature through all her varieties, and exposed with inimitable skill the infinite follies and vices of the world, was in himself an example of many virtues." *
* Vide "Pilgrimages to English Shrines: the Tomb of Hogarth." By Mrs. S. C. Hall.
Also "Tombs of English Artists: Hogarth", by F. W. Fairholt, Art Journal, April, 1858, from which we borrow our illustration and description.

HOGARTH'S HOUSE

The house at Chiswick was that in which Sir James Thornhill resided at the time of his daughter's elopement with Hogarth. It is gloomy, with high walls; long walls of brick bound the way to it from the main street of the village. In the days of Anne it was far from the metropolis, but now it is as much a London suburb as Islington was then. Large as the house appears, it is really somewhat small, for it is all frontage, and only one room deep, without any back windows. The garden is not larger than such a house would require, and the small stable at its further extremity has over it a room Hogarth used as a studio. Against the garden wall are two narrow upright slabs of stone, commemorating the graves of his dog and bird. The words upon the former —
"Life to the last enjoyed, here Pompey lies" — are a satirical paraphrase on the epitaph to Churchill, the satirist, in Dover Church, with whom he had passed some years of friendship, but who had bitterly attacked Hogarth at the close of his career; not, however, without provocation on the part of the latter.
In Chiswick churchyard the painter reposes, and he is not the only artist buried there.
Loutherbourg [see above] rests under a most heavy and ambitious monument;
a slab against the wall near it records the name of James Fittler, the engraver;
and William Sharpe, another of our best English engravers, was buried, by his desire, near Hogarth.
The tomb of the latter artist is a not ungraceful structure, exhibiting on one side a basso-relievo indicative of his art; an inscription on the east side notes the death of Hogarth, in October, 1764, at the age of sixty-seven, and his wile in November, 1780, at the age of eighty.
His sister's death is recorded on the south side, in August, 1771, at the age of seventy;
and that of Mary Lewis, his niece, who acted as saleswoman at his house in Leicester Square, and who died in 1808, at the age of eighty-eight.
The other face of the monument has an inscription to his mother-in-law, the widow of Sir James Thornhill, who was first buried in this grave in 1767.
This monument had fallen into much decay, and had become the theme of public comment; but it has been admirably restored, and on a small piece of granite at its base is inscribed, — "Rebuilt by William Hogarth, of Aberdeen, in 1856." All honour to his northern namesake's liberality and taste!
We might linger long, and with advantage, in this the most interesting of the many graveyards of England, in which repose the ashes of the great;

HAMMERSMITH BRIDGE WTSWG

HAMMERSMITH BRIDGE

but we must resume our voyage, glancing at "the Waterworks", one of the metropolitan supplies of "pure water", and landing at the graceful suspension bridge which crosses the Thames and conducts to Hammersmith. *
* [Hammersmith] bridge was constructed in 1828, from the designs and under the superintendence of William Tierney Clarke. He afterwards erected one similar at Prague, in Bohemia.
[ Not to mention Marlow Suspension Bridge opened in 1832 and still in use.
Hammersmith bridge was replaced in 1887 ]
The name of Hammersmith is not found in any record prior to the reign of Elizabeth [I.], yet it is now a populous suburb of the metropolis; for, although distant some five miles from Hyde Park Corner, there is scarcely any interruption to the line of streets that leads to it through Knightsbridge and Kensington.

HAMMERSMITH CHURCH

HAMMERSMITH CHURCH

Its pretty and picturesque church dates no further back than the reign of Charles I. It was built at the cost of Sir Nicholas Crispe, merchant of London, a loyal adherent of the monarchy during the contest between the Crown and the Parliament. His history is touchingly told in an inscription placed under an effigy of Charles I., at the base of which is a pedestal surmounted by an urn.

Within this urn is entombed the heart of Sir Nicholas Crispe,
Knight and Baronet,
a loyal sharer in the sufferings of his late and present Majesty.
He first settled the trade of gold from Guinea,
and there built the castle of Cormantine.
Died the 26th July, 1665, aged 67 years.

In the churchyard are many monuments with foreign names, servants in the household of the Margravine of Anspach, who once inhabited Brandenburgh House — a house which became famous as the residence of Queen Caroline, the wife of George IV. It was razed to the ground very soon after her death.

PUTNEY BRIDGE WTSWG

We resume our voyage, and passing between banks on which are several graceful villas, although generally the land is low and cannot be healthy, we come in sight of the ugly structure — ungainly piles of decaying wood — which, crossing the Thames, unites the villages of Putney and Fulham.
[ The old Putney Bridge of 1729 was to stand until 1885.
Mr & Mrs Hall must have seen the new aqueduct beside the bridge which was built in 1856 and stood until it was removed in the construction of the new bridge in 1885. They obviously disliked it so much that they refrained from showing Putney Bridge which otherwise they might have considered "picturesque" ]
Both these villages are famous in history, and we must delay the tourist while we visit them.

LONDON ROWING CLUB

STAR AND GARTER, PUTNEY BRIDGE

Let us land at Putney, first noticing that group of houses, in the centre of which is one that is familiar to all the "oarsmen" of the river, the well-known "Star and Garter", the head-quarters of several aquatic clubs. The illustration has been sketched to include one of the most conspicuous, though not the most picturesque, objects in this part of our course — the Club-house of the London Rowing Club, the largest association of amateurs that has ever existed on the Thames in connection with this healthful recreation. It has been recently erected at considerable cost; and if the popularity of the club continues to increase as it has done during the last two years, it will, we imagine, soon be found too small for the accommodation of its members.

THAMES BOATS

We take this opportunity of introducing to our readers drawings and descriptions of the principal varieties of boats used upon the Thames, so that — with such as we have already noticed — we may furnish a perfect idea of -'the craft" of all kinds which float over its surface.We owe to the courtesy of Messrs. Searle, of Lambeth, the very eminent boat-builders, the privilege of making our sketches in their yard at Stangate, while every facility in the way of accurate description was afforded to us by them.
The Thames watermen have long been celebrated for their superior style of rowing; in all their matches with foreign competitors they have invariably been successful; and, indeed, until the last few years, no other English watermen stood the smallest chance when contending against them. It was only after repeated unsuccessful contests that the Tyne watermen proved victorious, and this result was only obtained after acquiring the Thames style of rowing. Latterly, the Manchester and Liverpool watermen have greatly improved; but the Thames men may still be considered the best in the world.

THE THAMES WHERRY

THE THAMES WHERRY

The boat which is universally used by the above-bridge watermen is known as the Thames Wherry. The peculiarities of this boat are, its shallowness (which is compensated for by its spreading in the centre), and its sharpness at the head and stern — the head, or bow, tapering gradually from the rullocks (row-locks), and from the keel, until it ends in a sharp point, which is cased in iron; the stern also tapers off, but ends with a stern-post, rising perpendicularly from the keel, to which a rudder can be attached at pleasure.
The boat represented is what is technically termed a ran-dan wherry — that is to say, it has three sets of rullocks, so that three persons can row at the same time in it (but this is not compulsory, as the watermen generally row single-handed): when this is the case, the men fore and aft each row an oar, and the one in the centre rows a pair of sculls — on him also devolves the task of steering the boat.
The waterman's wherry is built heavy enough to bear the weight of six or eight passengers besides the rower, but as this kind of boat is particularly adapted for speed, much lighter ones of the same construction have been built for amateur pleasure-boats, and for rowing purposes.
These light racing wherries are all outrigged, but as this term may not be understood by the general reader, we will here give a short description of an outrigged boat. In order to gain great speed, boats have latterly been built very long and very narrow, thereby offering less resistance to the water; but, as the boats were built more narrow, the oars and sculls had to be shortened in proportion, and in consequence a great deal of power was lost, through the shortness of the leverage; to obviate this defect, the rullocks are carried out from the side of the boat by a light framework of iron, by this means the rowers are enabled to use very long oars or sculls, whilst the boat is built as narrow as possible. Outriggers were first brought into general notice by the Claspers (Tyne watermen), who rowed at the Thames Regatta about twelve years back.
The outrigged wherries are very subject, from the lightness of their build, to ship the water, to obviate which the head and stern are covered with canvas. Some of these wherries are built with only two pairs of rullocks; these are used either for two pairs of sculls or a pair of oars.
The lightest kind of wherry is generally called a sculler, or wager boat; they are chiefly used for matches, and require great skill and dexterity on the part of the rower, as the slightest thing upsets them — the lightest only weigh thirty-five pounds; to the racing boats we have more directly referred in our notices of Oxford.

THE THAMES SKIFF

THE SKIFF

The Skiff is another kind of boat much used on the Thames; it greatly differs from the wherry in form, being shorter and wider, and the gunwale rising higher from the water: it is much better adapted for rough water, and is consequently in general use among the below-bridge watermen. This boat is also used for sailing.

THE GIG

There is a boat now in great vogue on the Thames, called a Gig, which differs very slightly from the skiff, the chief distinction being that the gunwale of the gig is perfectly straight from stem to stern, whilst that of the skiff rises at both ends; the bow of the latter boat also slopes gradually up from the keel, whilst that of the gig rises very abruptly.

THE SHALLOP

THE SHALLOP

The Shallop is a boat built on the same principle as the skiff, but of a much larger size, and with an awning to cover the sitters: this awning is sometimes supported by a light iron framework, and sometimes it is formed of wood.

THE FUNNY

THE FUNNY

The chief peculiarity of the Funny is its having a head and stern exactly alike; it is a shorter boat than a Wherry, and more easily managed, which makes it valuable to amateurs.

CUTTERS

CUTTERS

Cutters is the generic term used on the Thames for long oared boats, built for four, six, or eight rowers; they are outrigged, and covered at the head and stern with canvas: the eight-oared boats are seventy feet long.

PUTNEY WTSWG

"Putney", according to Lysons, "is in Domesday called Putelei; in subsequent records it is spelt Puttenheth, or Pottenheth."
The village leads up-hill, through a street of good villa houses, to Wimbledon and Roehampton. It has an old church, and is famous as the birthplace of three remarkable men:
West, Bishop of Ely, the son of a baker here;
Thomas Cromwell, Earl of Essex, whose father was a blacksmith in the town;
and Gibbon, the historian.

The tourist will derive greater interest, however, from a visit to the Middlesex side of the river, and that interest will continue almost unbroken until he reaches London: along its Surrey banks are to be seen only objects that blot the landscape, however much they may add to the solid wealth of the country; for, excepting a group of very ugly and cheerless, though costly domiciles, that have replaced as many quaint old dwellings of a by-gone time, and which skirt the river immediately after leaving Putney, there is but a succession of factories and small cottage houses, which serve to shelter labourers and artizans; unwholesome-looking swamps divide the space with yards, and quays, and waggon-sheds, auxiliaries to manufactories of gin, soap, starch, silk, paper, candles, beer, and vitriol — the first named and the last being no doubt mutually dependant for aid and assistance. Such is the only picture to be contemplated all the way;
it includes long, straggling Wandsworth,
and longer and still more straggling Battersea,
both with modern and ugly churches, that of Battersea being especially odious, inasmuch as it is thrust forward almost into the current, and it is impossible to avoid looking at an object, in producing which the architect seems to have studied how far it was in his power to render it repugnant: we, therefore, pass rapidly over the Surrey side of the Thames between the bridges at Putney and Battersea.

FULHAM

We breathe more freely as we cross the bridge and enter the village of Fulham; resting awhile, it may be, at the venerable and still comfortable inn, which was there "beyond the time of legal memory" to enjoy a chat, perhaps, with Phelps, the veteran waterman, who still plies his "trim-built wherry", and is even to-day a good specimen of what his class were long ago, before the application of steam and the omnibus deprived them of their employers, and made mockeries of the privileges of - "jolly young watermen."

CRAVEN COTTAGE

Voyaging down stream, however, there are a few houses upon the banks which may not be passed without a word of comment. The first is Craven Cottage, once the residence of Walsh Porter, and in later times of Sir Bulwer Lytton; we recall the days we have passed there with more than mere pleasure.

FULHAM PALACE

The Bishop's Palace succeeds — from which one good man has recently been removed to a vault in the neighbouring church, to be succeeded by another who has already made the country his grateful debtor.

PRIOR'S BANK

The house that has "a gothic look" is Prior's Bank: we know not who dwells there now, but not many years ago it was the residence of "a pair of friends", who made it renowned, not alone for genuine and liberal hospitality, but for refined elegance, and as a new birth-place of the graces, the whims, the amusements, and the "teachings" of that "olden time" of which the mansion externally and internally professed to be a copy. The place is hallowed in the memories of many men of letters, of art, and of wit, who had, and gave, enjoyment there: Prior's Bank will find a place in the biographies of not a few "celebrities" of the nineteenth century.

FULHAM CHURCH AND PRIOR'S BANK

In a little group of small cottage houses close beside, lived Theodore Hook during the greater part of his life; a history of this small dwelling might fill a volume;

PUTNEY AQUEDUCT WTSWG

[Prior's Bank] has been removed to make way for a hideous bridge (uglier, if possible, than its neighbour), by which a water-company carries supplies to London;

[ The aqueduct a few yards upstream of Putney Bridge, dominating the scene, 1856 - 1885 ]

FULHAM CHURCH

while [Hook] the Yorick of so many "tables" sleeps among a crowd of right reverend prelates, in a retired nook of the churchyard close at hand. The church and churchyard will largely repay a visit;
in the latter repose the ashes of forty bishops, so at least says the cicerone of the place; but the series may begin with Irkenwald, that bishop under "Sigibert, king of the West Saxons, and Conrad, king of the Mercians", to whom Fulham — then called Fullenhanne or Fullenholme, which signifies volucrum domus, "the habitacle of birdes or the place of fowles" — was originally given.
Be they forty, more or less, however, among these pillars of the English church are men of whom the British nation will be for ever proud; men of learning, virtue, and piety; honour to their memories; he must be of a cold heart and of a dead imagination who can stand unmoved in this small area of tombs, where sleep in death Sherlock and Lowth, and many others, "whose works live after them", and to whose graves tens of thousands yet to come will bow in grateful homage.

CREMORNE

Between Fulham and Chelsea, to which we now hasten, passing by several graceful villas, we arrive at "Cremorne", a popular place of amusement that has taken the place of old Vauxhall.

But an object of far higher interest soon greets the voyager; it is the hospital in which the old and worn soldiers who have served their country repose after their toils.

BATTERSEA BRIDGE WTSWG

BATTERSEA BRIDGE

[ First Battersea Bridge 1766. It was demolished in 1885 and replaced in 1890 ]

We have first, however, to row under Battersea Bridge. Like that of Putney, it is coarse, unseemly, and inconvenient in character, all its defects being brought into strong relief by the beautiful structure which now crosses the river a little lower down.

CHELSEA

We must step ashore at Chelsea; for this locality is fertile of useful suggestions and interesting associations.
Lyndsay House is seen on the left, and its old history is full of interest, enhanced by the records of later residents.
Here the painter, Martin, lived and worked;
and near it the great artist, Turner, died — ungracefully, to say the least.
But associations multiply as we pass London-ward.

CHELSEA CHURCH

CHELSEA CHURCH

A narrow lane, such as we still see sometimes at port towns, leads to the venerable church. The monument to the memory of Sir Hans Sloane occupies the east corner of the churchyard. The church and many neighbouring localities derive interest from associations with the history of that great and good statesman, Sir Thomas More.

SIR THOMAS MORE'S HOUSE

SIR THOMAS MORE'S HOUSE

At his house, in Chelsea, the eighth Harry frequently visited his "beloved Chancellor", — "a house neither mean nor subject to envy, yet magnificent and commodious enough", with gardens "wonderfully charming", with "green meadows and woody eminences all around." *
* The house stood some distance from the river, at the back of Lyndsay House, on ground now occupied by the Moravian burial-ground. The gardens reached to the Thames, and from their watergate More stepped into the barge that can led him to the Tower.
Here the Abbot of Westminster took him into custody for refusing to "take the king as head of his church"; and for denying the king's supremacy, he was beheaded on Tower Hill. He had anticipated his death, and had caused his tomb to be made in the church at Chelsea. Whether his body was interred there is doubtful; but the place is full of memories of him of whom it was quaintly said —

When More some time had chancellor been,
No More suits did remain;
The same shall never-More be seen,
Till More be there again.

CHEYNE WALK

CHEYNE WALK

A few yards farther — leaving to the right the pretty pier at which steam-boats ply every ten minutes, and where a few of the old watermen still linger — we reach that famous row of "good houses" known as Cheyne WALK, * a pleasant promenade, and one of the most memorable "bits" that skirt the river-side.
* Our view of Cheyne Walk is taken from the centre, looking towards London. The first house on the left, with the old sign-board in front of it, is "Don Saltero's Coffee-house", a place much renowned in the days of Queen Anne, and celebrated by Steele in his Tatler. Himself and other wits of the day patronised its proprietor, James Salter, whom they christened "Don Saltero". He had been servant to Sir Hans Sloane, and opened this house in 1695 with a collection of curiosities, the refuse of Sir Hans' collection, calling his house "the Museum Coffee-house".
It was greatly added to by continued gifts, and this "eminent barber and antiquary", as Steele styles him, became famous for his "curiosities". The walls were covered with glass cases, stuffed alligators hung from the ceiling, and a "catalogue of the rarities to be seen" published, "price two-pence". It is a singular specimen of what were popular curiosities a century ago: "A piece of Solomon's Temple", "Job's tears which grew on a tree, wherewith they make anodyne necklaces", "a giant's tooth", "a young frog in a tobacco-stopper", and "a flea-trap", are among the " curiosities"; with which, however, were mixed really curious things.
Tennant mentions having been taken there when a boy, and that his father saw there Richard Cromwell (son of the Protector), "a little and very neat old man, with a most placid countenance."

CHELSEA HOSPITAL

CHELSEA HOSPITAL, Side View

A few steps onward, if we are foot passengers, "a row" of a hundred yards if we are voyagers —
passing on the left the old "Physic Garden", bequeathed, in the year 1673, by Charles Cheyne, Esq., Lord of the Manor of Chelsea, to the company of Apothecaries for a term of years, and afterwards purchased and presented to them by Sir Hans Sloane —
and we reach the long-renowned Hospital of Chelsea. We picture the side view, as it is seen on ascending or descending the river. Assuredly there are few who cross the Thames to visit either the railway station at Battersea, or Battersea Park, who will not have their attention directed to this deeply interesting monument of an age which is unhappily suggestive less of pride than of humiliation, but of which this home for battle-tried and weather-beaten soldiers is one of the redeeming points; where for two centuries the brave men who receive grateful proofs of a nation's gratitude tell

How fields were won.

CHELSEA HOSPITAL, front view

Of Chelsea Hospital the front view is the most striking; for, though it does not possess any very remarkable architectural feature, it has a certain "nobility of look", and all its associations are of great interest.
The foundation of the hospital — or, as its inmates prefer to call it, "the college" — is known to have been one of the few good deeds of the voluptuary, Charles II. — being an exception to the rule as regarded the sovereign

Who never said a foolish thing,
And never did a wise one.

There is a tradition, but it is without proof, that "the merry monarch" was influenced to this merciful act by his mistress, Nell Gwynne. Be it as it may, it was a fortunate circumstance for the country. Many a battle has been won for these kingdoms by the knowledge that the maimed soldier can never be a deserted beggar — by the certainty that honourable scars will be healed by other ointment than that of mere pity — by the assurance that shelter and comfort are prepared for the wounded or aged, of whom a nation becomes the guardian and protector. In this "Palace Hospital" are contained — so that all visitors as well as inmates may continually see them — various trophies taken at victories gained by British soldiers over those of France: it is a proud as well as a numerous collection.
"It has often been remarked by foreigners", says Faulkner, in his account of Chelsea, "that the charitable foundations of England were more fitted, by their grandeur and extent, for the residence of kings; while her palaces, by their external appearance, seemed better calculated for the reception of the needy and unfortunate. But surely they could not have paid a nation greater honour; and when we survey the noble fabrics at Chelsea and at Greenwich, we cannot but feel proud that we live in a country which constantly affords an asylum to the helpless wanderer— which relieves the wants of the needy and allays the sufferings of the sick to an extent, and with a liberality, unknown throughout the rest of Europe."
This edifice stands upon the site of a college founded by King James I, for the study of polemical divinity. It was originally projected by Dr. Matthew Sutcliffe, Dean of Exeter, in the early part of that king's reign. James laid the first stone in May, 1609, and in the same month of the succeeding year granted a charter of incorporation, in which the number of members was limited to nineteen, and a provost, and the institution was to be named "King James's College". Sutcliffe liberally gave toward the foundation all he could, and he was empowered by an act of Parliament to receive any aid in the way of bequest or contribution, but so little came that "scarce an eighth part was erected, as only one side of the first quadrangle was ever completed, and this range of building, according to Fuller, cost above three thousand pounds."
After Sutcliffe's death, in 1629, it languished, and was finally broken up in the troubles of the Great Civil War.
In the year 1669, Charles gave the ground and builldings to the Royal Society. They endeavoured for some time to let the premises advantageously, but failing in their attempts, they sold them again to Sir Stephen Fox, Lord Commissioner of the Treasury, for the king's use, for the sum of £1300.
On the 12th of March, 1682, Charles II., attended by his principal courtiers, laid the first stone of the present Hospital buildings, and Sir Christopher Wren was the architect.
Evelyn notes that in the following month — "I was desired by Sir Stephen Fox and Sir Christopher Wren to accompany them to Lambeth, with the plot and design of the college to be built at Chelsey, to have the Archbishop's approbation."
This was obtained; and Archbishop Sancroft gave £1,000 toward the building. Sir Stephen Fox promising "that he would settle £5,000 per annum on it, and build to the value of £20,000." Tobias Rustat, yeoman of the robes to the king, also contributed £1,000, and presented the bronze statue of Charles II. which still adorns the quadrangle. The entire building was not completed till 1690, and the total cost is said to have been £150,000.
It accommodates about 400 inmates. The colonnade and portico toward the river afford an agreeably sheltered walk for the old men in bad weather, and communicates between the two wings. The hall spacious, and in it is a large allegorical picture of Charles II. on horseback, by Verrio, whose ceiling-painting at Hampton Court we have already noted. The chapel has an altar-piece by Sebastian Ricci, painted when he visited this country in the reign of Anne; it represents the Resurrection of our Saviour.

BATTERSEA PARK

Battersea Park has been laid out only within the last two or three years; it is therefore in its infancy — the shrubs are miniatures; but to the next generation it will be one of the chief adornments of the metropolitan suburbs. From it we look upon the old wooden bridge, and the Dutch-looking church and village of Chelsea.

CHELSEA BRIDGE WTSWG

[ Work began on what was then to be called Victoria Bridge in 1851 and had only just been completed in 1859
It was demolished and replaced in 1935 ]

CHELSEA BRIDGE

Beyond the hospital is the New Bridge, constructed by Thomas Page, Esq. It is a toll bridge; and it has been pleasantly said that
"Government gave a park to the people, and placed a toll-bar at the gate to keep them out of it."
The bridge is the most beautiful of the many that cross the Thames between its source and its fall into the sea; and its value is much enhanced by the charmingly constructed station that stands in a dell almost at its foot — "the West End Crystal Palace Station", that communicates also with Brighton and the southern counties of England.

RANELAGH

Close to the gardens of Chelsea College, on the London side, stood the once-famed Ranelagh. *
* It obtained its name from being erected on the site of the mansion of Richard, Earl of Ranelagh, who was Paymaster-General of tbe forces, and one of the Commissioners of Chelsea Hospital, during the reign of Charles II., and obtained from the Crown a grant of the land. He died in 1712, and in 1733 the house and grounds were sold in lots.
The line of trees which parts the college garden from the small garden appropriated to the veterans who are here domiciled after their warlike labours, was once a part of the "walks" of Ranelagh; and a few years ago the remains of the lamp-irons which lit it were still upon some of the tree stems. This most aristocratic place of amusement was opened in 1742. The great feature of the spot was an enormous Rotunda, a hundred and eighty-five feet in diameter, in which concerts took place, and which is the conspicuous object in our view, copied from a print published in 1743.

RANELAGH 1743

Royalty and nobility patronised the place largely. During its fashionable career Ranelagh and its pleasures are frequently referred to by the writers of the era, but none have left better accounts than the amusing letter-writer, Horace Walpole: in a letter to Sir Horace Mann, dated May 26, 1742, he says: —
"Two nights ago Ranelagh Gardens were opened at Chelsea; the prince, princess, duke, much nobility, and much mob besides, were there. There is a vast amphitheatre, finely gilt, painted, and illuminated, into which everybody that loves eating, drinking, staring, or crowding, is admitted, for twelve pence. The building and disposition of the gardens cost nineteen thousand pounds.
Twice a week there are to be ridottos at guinea tickets, for which they are to have a supper and music."
For a time it drew all company away from Vauxhall, which until then was unrivalled. In 1748, Walpole notes that its attractions had not decreased:
"Ranelagh is so crowded, that going there t'other night in a string of coaches, we had to stop six-and-thirty minutes."
But its reign was brief, — half a century saw it terminate; fashion soon changed; Ranelagh was found at last to be "dull" — the public got tired of merely parading round the orchestra in the great hall, and listening to music. Bloomfield has described the effect on himself: —

To Ranelagh once in my life
By good-natured force I was driven;
The nations had ceased their long strife,
And peace beam'd her radiance from heaven!
What wonders were here to be found,
That a clown might enjoy or disdain!
First, we traced the gay circle all round,
Ay — and then we went round it again!

The diameter of the interior of the Rotunda was one hundred and fifty feet. Round the walls were forty seven boxes for refreshments, with doors at the back leading to the gardens; they were lit by bell lamps, and divided from each other by piers covered with looking-glass. Twenty-three chandeliers hung from the ceiling. An arcade and gallery projected from the lowest story of the building outside; the entrances were by four Doric porticoes.
When the attraction of Concerts failed, masquerades were substituted; but patronage diminished, and in 1805 it was taken down. The new road from Sloane Street to the Suspension Bridge passes over a part of the grounds.

In the immediate neighbourhood was the "Old Chelsea" porcelain works, concerning which very little is known, but which produced efforts of art that may vie with the best issues of Dresden and Sevres.
The whole of the district hence to Westminster, and from the river inland to Pimlico was formerly a most lonely and dangerous locality, and so continued until the commencement of the present century. The Five Fields and Tothill Fields, which comprehended nearly the whole space, were desert spots, crossed here and there with footpaths and raised causeways, flanked by ditches, which divided a few wretched gardens, containing some half dozen ruined sheds scattered over the ground, inhabited by the very worst classes of the London community, and where it was not safe for strangers to travel.
Hollar has preserved its features in his "view of the pest-houses" in Tothill Fields, in 1665; London is seen in the distance, as if on the confines of a desert. These pest-houses were set apart in this dismal and secluded locality for the cure of such unfortunates as were afflicted; and the churchwardens' accounts furnish us with notes of monies paid for their support.
Now this spot is thickly covered with houses, streets, and squares; and aristocratic Belgravia occupies the once worthless marsh-land of old Chelsea.
The opposite bank of the river was sacred to the market-gardener until a very recent period.
The first great change was effected by the South-Western Railway, which fixed its opening station originally at Nine Elms, where an extensive "goods station" still remains. Between this spot and Vauxhall Bridge, thirty years ago, was a place of general recreation, known as Cumberland Gardens: it consisted of an open space toward the Thames, laid out in grass-plats, and surrounded by open boxes and tables for refreshments, after the style of old-fashioned suburban tea-gardens. The ground is now occupied by a distillery.

VAUXHALL BRIDGE WTSWG

The bridge which crosses the Thames at Vauxhall is of cast iron, and was begun by Rennie, and finished by Walker. It was opened for traffic in 1816.
[ It was replaced by a new bridge in 1906 ]
The trees seen above the houses at the foot of the Surrey side of the bridge are those of Vauxhall Gardens, which have been of late years only opened at long intervals: they were once the glory of English pleasure-gardens, frequented by the highest in the land, from the gay days of Charles II. to those of the Regency; and were celebrated in musical history for talent of the highest kind here introduced to the public. In the old orchestra, whose towering summit may be seen from the Thames, the greatest musical celebrities have sung. Handel, Dr. Arno, and Hook superintended its concerts, and Hogarth decorated its walls with paintings. It obtained its name from a very old mansion which once stood near it. *
It has supplied a name to similar places abroad, where "Wauxhall" indicates generally a garden illuminated for promenades and singing. Its old title is given by Pepys in his Diary, who describes how he went "by water to Fox Hall, and then walked into Spring Garden." Over the gate of the old house at Vauxhall, erected for his own residence by Jonathan Tyers, the proprietor at the early part of the last century, the old name, "Spring Garden", may still be seen.

FAWKES-HALL

This old manor-house of Fawkes Hall, as it existed in the reign of Charles I., is shown in our engraving; at that time it was described as a "fair dwelling-house, strongly built, of three stories high, and a pier staircase breaking out from it, nineteen feet square." This staircase occupied one of the towers, in accordance with the ancient plan, and the house was a curious specimen of the old timber houses of the gentry in the sixteenth century. It appears to have obtained its name from Foukes de Brent, who married the heiress of the manor, the Countess of Albemarle, sister to Baldwin, Archbishop of Canterbury; and it was granted, by the name of the manor of Foukeshall, by Edward II. to his favourite, Hugh le Despencer. In 1615, the records of the Duchy of Cornwall prove the premises now known as Vauxhall Gardens to have been the leasehold property of Jane Vaux, widow of John Vaux, citizen and vintner of London, and a benefactor to the parish of Lambeth. It has always remained, with the manor of Kennington, as the property of the Crown, and belongs to the Prince of Wales as part of his Duchy of Cornwall.
Evelyn and Pepys note, in their instructive and amusing diaries, many of their visits to this favourite resort of the Londoners, The reason of its popularity may be gathered by Pepys's description of his own inducements to go there. He found there in May, 1667, "a great deal of company, and the weather and gardens pleasant: and it is very pleasant and cheap going thither, for a man may go to spend what he will or nothing, all as one. But to hear the nightingale, and the birds, and here fiddles, and there a harp, and here a Jew's trump, and here laughing, and there fine people walking, is mighty diverting."
Evelyn styles it, "a pretty contrived plantation".

Addison has left us in the Spectator a good description of the garden in May, 1712, when it had lost nothing of its rural beauty. His visit is supposed to be in company with the immortal Sir Roger de Coverley, as he "had promised to go with him on the water to Spring Garden in case it proved a good evening". He details the boat journey from the Temple Stairs, and continues:
"We were now arrived at Spring Garden, which is exquisitely pleasant at this time of the year. When I considered the fragrancy of the walks and bowers, with the choirs of birds that sang upon the trees, and the loose tribe of people that walked under their shade, I could not but look upon the place as a kind of Mahometan paradise. Sir Roger told me it put him in mind of a little coppice by his house in the country, which his chaplain used to call an aviary of nightingales."
The nightingales disappeared as the suburbs of London increased; and it is said that after the gardens came into the possession of Jonathan Tyers, and the birds got thinner, men were hidden among the trees to imitate the note of the popular favourites. Tyers obtained his lease in 1730; and he introduced music, illuminations, and amusements of various kinds; occasionally adding to the attractions by employing such artists as Hogarth and Hayman to decorate his saloons with pictures, and Roubiliac with statuary. *
* The famous statue of Handel, the work which first brought this great sculptor into public notice. was executed for the Gardens. After passing through many hands, it was purchased about five years ago by the Sacred Harmonic Society, and is now in their rooms at Exeter Hall.
In 1710, the price of admission was one shilling; season tickets at two guineas admitted two persons on each night; "no persons in livery to walk in the gardens". At this time it was usual to go in boats from London; but in 1750, on the opening of Westminster Bridge, Mr. Tyers purchased and pulled down a number of old houses opposite Lambeth Church, which gave an opportunity for making a coach road to the gardens, and "on the first night of the entertainments beginning, so great was the novelty of visiting that delightful spot in a carriage, that the coaches reached from the gardens to beyond Lambeth Church, which is near a mile." *
* Nicholl's "History of Lambeth".
Tyers died in 1767, and was so much attached to the gardens that he caused himself to be carried round them but a few hours before his death; after which event they were conducted by his sons till 1780. In fact, no public place of amusement has such abundant "memories" associated with its career as Vauxhall, and none are of such ancient standing, connecting the era of Charles II. with our own.

LUFF BARGE

LUFF BARGE

Dropping quietly down the stream, we often encounter the Luff Barge. It is a smaller class of barge than the square barge of the Thames, being sharp forward, and altogether more like an ordinary vessel. Perhaps this accounts for the name of clipper-barge, which it sometimes receives. Luff-barges are rigged with a sprit and foresail, without a mizen, and generally carry goods where larger vessels are unable to go: their trade is mostly confined to London and the upper part of the river.

On the Middlesex bank of the river, at a short distance from the bridge, we may note one of those steam-boat piers which have been such conspicuous objects in our journey from Wandsworth to London, and which the traffic in cheap boats has rendered necessary for the thousands of passengers who have again taken "the silent highway of the Thames" for their road. Twenty years ago this enormous traffic did not exist, and in the early part of the last century, fishermen threw their nets in the river here, not without hope of a salmon.

BALLAST DREDGER

BALLAST DREDGER

Now, the water is in a constant state of turmoil and mud, rendering the necessity for occasional visits, at different spots, of the Ballast Dredger — a heavy-looking but picturesque boat, that clears the stream by a rotary series of iron buckets, which dig into the soil, fill themselves, and, passing up an incline, empty into a hoat beside them the deposit of gravel and mud. *
* Curious things are occasionally "fished up" from the Thames by these machines. The Seal of Edward I. for the port of London was found in 1810, and has been engraved in "Hone's Every-Day Book", vol ii.
We engrave two bronze swords found in the Thames, near Vauxhall. They are the primitive weapons of the ancient Britons; and, as others precisely similar are found in Roman settlements, they were probably brought by ancient traders in exchange for British tin.

MILLBANK PRISON

The Millbank Prison, once termed the Penitentiary, which is seen in the background of our view of the pier, is the only great prison on the Thames bank. Its ground-plan is very peculiar, and in all maps of London looks like an ornamental star: a series of wings radiate from a centre, where the governor's house is placed, which thus commands the whole establishment. It originated with Jeremy Bentham, and is chiefly used for hardened offenders, or criminals condemned to transportation or the hulks. The site was purchased of the Marquis of Salisbury for £12,000, in 1799. The soil is a deep peat, and the foundations had to be laid on a solid concrete. It lies low, and is unhealthy. The only entrance is at the Thames front, where a commodious esplanade is formed, and there is a stone landing-place with stairs. It is calculated that from 4000 to 5000 prisoners pass through it yearly. It contains more than 1500 cells, and was constructed at a cost of nearly half a million of money. It is now in much disfavour, owing to its situation, and is greatly dreaded by offenders: it may be said to be the most terrible of London prisons.

STEAM BOAT PIER

MILLBANK PRISON AND STEAM-BOAT PIER

The steamboat pier is one of a series erected on the Thames banks, between Wandsworth and Greenwich, for the use of the boats plying "above bridge" or "below", — "the" bridge being London Bridge, once the only one which spanned the river. These piers float between solid frameworks of timber, which break the force of the tide, and support lamps. The landing-stage is commodious, with open seats for voyagers, protected by an awning. A flight of steps leads from the centre to the shore; and the whole is constructed to adapt itself to the rise and fall of the river at the ebb and flow of the tide.

LAMBETH

Lambeth is on the opposite bank, and consists, as we see it from the river, of boat-builders' houses, lightermen's sheds, gas-works, manufacturers of cement and glue, potteries for stoneware, *
* "The Vauxhall Pottery, established two centuries since [ie 1659] by two Dutchmen, for the manufacture of old Delft ware, is probably the origin of all our modern potteries". — Curiosities of London. By J.Timbs, F.S.A.
drain-pipes, &c., and whitening-makers, whose wooden-framed open warehouses, with their thousands of "pennorths" drying in the air for the use of the London housemaids, are conspicuous objects in the uninviting scene.

LAMBETH CHURCH

Lambeth Palace and Church now come in view; they are among the most interesting old buildings on the banks of the river. The church was rebuilt in 1852, and is a beautiful example of modern restoration. Before that time it was in a most neglected and unsightly state, — now it is a model of neatness, and the memorial windows are very beautiful: * one is dedicated to the late Archbishop Howley, whose benevolent career was especially deserving this recognition.
* In the churchyard, which is also beautifully kept, is the tomb of John Tradescant, who, at his house in the fields beyond, formed the first important museum in this country, in the reign of Charles II. It passed, at his death, to Elias Ashmole (who is also buried here), and now forms part of the Ashmolean Museum at Oxford.

LAMBETH PALACE

LAMBETH PALACE

Close beside it is the old brick gate-house of the palace, for more than six centuries the residence of the Archbishops of Canterbury. It was built by Archbishop Morton at the close of the fifteenth century. It consists of two square towers connected by an embattled recessed centre; the whole built of red brick, with stone quoins, the bricks arrranged in an ornamental manner by the introduction of coloured glaze, forming a large chequered pattern over the surface, a fashion first introduced in the reign of Henry VII., when these towers were erected. There is a spacious arched gateway and postern in the central recess. *
* "At this gate the dole immemorially given to the poor by the Archbishop of Canterbury is constantly distributed. It consists of fifteen quartern loaves, nine stone of beef, and five shillings' worth of halfpence, divided into three equal portions, and distributed every Sunday, Tuesday, and Thursday among thirty poor parishioners of Lambeth, the beef being made into broth and served in pitchers."— Timbs' Curiosities of London.
In these towers is the Record Room, filled with ancient archives connected with the See of Canterbury.
There is also a small prison here, walled with stone, and fitted with three strong rings of iron for the security of prisoners, one of whom — Richard Grafton — has recorded his name upon the walls.
On the water-side, the gate-house is connected by a long brick wall with the Lollards' Tower.
Above this wall may be seen the noble old hall (now converted into a library) built by Archbishop Juxon in the reign of Charles II. It is constructed of dark red brick, dressed with stone, and having a series of bold buttresses. The lantern which surmounts the centre of the roof is crowned by a vane, upon which is exhibited the arms of the See of Canterbury, impaled with those of Archbishop Juxon, and crowned with the mitre of the See. This noble hall has been injured in its effect by its conversion into a library, the bookcases crowding the walls, and projecting too far forward. It was first adapted to this use in 1830. The library contains many valuable manuscripts and early printed books. It is 93 feet in length, and 50 feet in height.
The Lollards' Tower is faced with stone towards the river, and still bears on that side the arms of Archbishop Chichely, by whom it was built in 1435; beneath them is an ornamented niche, where a figure of St. Thomas-à-Becket was once placed.

THE LOLLARD'S PRISON

The prison is in the small adjoining tower, only to be entered by a steep staircase leading from the larger one. It is seen to the extreme left of our view, — a narrow irregularly shaped room, fastened by an oaken door, formed of three layers of wood strongly riveted, and studded with great nails, the door case being of arched stone. The room is about eight feet in height, nearly fifteen in length, and eleven feet wide; lighted hy two deeply-recessed narrow windows. The walls and ceiling are thickly covered with wood. *
* A modern author has imagined that this was for the "comfort" of the prisoners; such an idea did not exist in the old times. It was intended to deaden all sound of the voice, either in talking or under the influence of torture, and is upon "the approved model" of the horrible dungeons of Germany and Italy, which were similarly constructed.
A few names and inscriptions have been cut in this wood by unhappy prisoners once confined here. The rings which chained them still remain. These lonely walls speak loudly of the nature of the good old times, when "dissent" led quickly to "death". *
* Though popularly known as "The Lollards'" Tower, it cannot be proved with certainty that Wickliffe's followers were imprisoned here; but the great Reformer was examined in the old chapel of this palace, and it is more than probable that some of his sect were here confined. The inscriptions above-named seem to belong to the era of Henry VIII.
We cannot here dwell on the interesting associations this venerable palace conjures up in the mind, nor attempt to record the varied impressions that arise from a visit within its ancient walls. For the artist it abounds with antique "bits"; one of its most picturesque rooms, the "Guard Chamber", we engrave.

GUARD CHAMBER, LAMBETH PALACE

It is mentioned by that name as early as 1424, and in it Archhishop Laud held his state on the day of his consecration. The roof is singularly elegant, with oaken ribs richly carved; it was admirably restored in 1832, having been previously hidden by a flat ceiling of plaster. The palace was restored throughout by Archbishop Howley between the years 1828 and 1848. This munificent prelate devoted a large sum to this necessary work of renovation and improvement; he rebuilt the whole of the residential portion in the Tudor style of architecture, at a cost of upwards of £60,000. The garden still preserves a park-like appearance, bounded by large trees. The gardens and grounds cover eighteen acres; but they are now surrounded by houses and factories that deface their beauty and destroy their salubrity.

LAMBETH FERRY WTSWG

From Lambeth to the opposite bank is one of the oldest ferries on the river, leading to "the Horseferry Road", which obtains that name from this ancient river-way.
[ The ferry closed in 1750 when Westminster Bridge was built.
Lambeth Suspension Bridge was built in 1862 and opened in 1869 by Queen Victoria.
The modern Lambeth Bridge was started in 1929 and opened in 1932.]

STATE OF THE RIVER WTSWG

Successions of coal and corn wharves now line the banks *
* When Vauxhall Bridge is passed, the terribly dirty state of the Thames becomes apparent; the picture that follows is scarcely overdrawn: —
"The enormous traffic of London, its increased dirt, and even its increased and statutory habits of cleanliness, its sewage, coal-smoke and coal-gas, tiers of barges, and steamboat piers, have done their work; but not so the Corporation of London, ancient conservators of the status quo of a river, noble in spite of its debasement; not so the Crown, or, worse than all, the population of London, and we may say, the nation itself.
The lunging surf of the river steamers stirs from its oozy bed, in the rear of some friendly obstruction, the sleepy sediment of the tainted Thames. A ceaseless passage of steamcraft ploughs through the sludgy compromise between the animal, the vegetable, and the mineral kingdoms.
Feeble rays from a clouded sun glimmer through the murky atmosphere, and play with tarnished glister over the dingy flood.
Fishes, wiser in their generation than ourselves, have forsaken in disgust a medium which in these latitudes has long since ceased to be a definite element; poisoned by impurities to which their simple natures are utterly averse, and scared by circumstances over which they feel they have no earthly control.
Odours that speak aloud stalk over the face of the so-called 'waters'.
The Avernus of the Fleet Ditch finds articulate echo in the Cocytus of the great Effra Sewer; and as we watch the tiny drainlet that dribbles down the shore at dead low-water, we see how it is that 'every little helps' to corrupt the stream below, and adds a fiercer zest to that satanic Julienne whose reck is for ever rising on the wings of Azrael, and foreshadows the terrors of a new and a warmer world!" — The Oarsman's Guide.
[ Avernus = "a lake near Naples looked upon in ancient times as an entrance to hell, from whose waters vile-smelling vapours arose, supposedly killing birds flying over it".]
[ Cocytus = "River of wailing" ]
[ Effra sewer = the River Effra was converted into a sewer ]
[ Satanic Julienne = A dish fit for the devil ]
[ Azrael = the angel of death ]
[ A new and warmer world = Hell! (Not global warming - just hell!) ]

HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT WTSWG

[ The Houses of Parliament burnt down in 1834. Reconstruction started in 1840 and lasted for 30 years (great delays and cost overruns - who would have guessed that?) So it was still being rebuilt when Mr & Mrs Hall saw it. ]

HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT

[ until we reach ] the Houses of Parliament. This magnificent pile starts up like a glorious giant from the hovels near it. Its history is too well known to require lengthened notice here. Designed and erected by Sir Charles Barry, the buildings cover nearly eight acres of ground. The river front is 940 feet in length; and there are more than 500 apartments in the entire pile, exclusive of official residences, state apartments, and the "Houses" of the senate of England.
The eastern or river front has a noble terrace 700 feet in length, and 33 feet in width, lighted at night by a series of lamps on the parapet. It communicates with the retiring rooms used by the members of Parliament, and is an agreeable promenade in summer evenings. The entire face of the building is richly decorated with heraldic sculpture, displaying the coat-armour of the English sovereigns from the earliest period, with badges and inscriptions. At each end of the terrace are projecting wings, with high towers, surmounted by gilded pinnacles and elaborate sculptured ornament, being the most picturesque features of the entire design. The vast Victoria Tower, seen to the left of our view, which forms the royal entrance from New Palace Yard, is 340 feet in height, and 80 feet square. The clock-tower, at the other extremity of the building, is an imposing erection, second only to this gigantic tower, but more highly enriched by ornament and gilding. The bell within it weighs eight tons, and the clock-face is twice the size of that at St. Paul's.
Before the great fire of October 14. 1834, the river-frontage exhibited a strange mixture of old brick and stone buildings, with the stone front of the ancient "Chapel of St. Stephen" in the midst. The Speaker's house and garden were here;

STAR CHAMBER

and close to the bridge was the old "Star Chamber", rendered memorable by the state prosecutions of Charles I.
From this official department issued the numerous levies, forced loans, and royal prosecutions which led to the great civil wars.
The building was taken down in 1836.
Our engraving is copied from a drawing made before its demolition.
It received its name from the stars painted on its ornamental ceiling.

OLD WESTMINSTER HALL

The old Hall of Westminster now forms the vestibule to the Houses of Lords and Commons, and the Law Courts. This noble building was added to the old Royal Palace of the English Kings, which once stood on this spot, by William Rufus, and was enlarged, altered, and adapted to its present form at the close of the fourteenth century, by Richard II. The roof, formed of Irish oak, and richly carved, is one of the most remarkable pieces of ancient carpentry at present existing.
During the progress of reparations made in 1835, portions of the older Norman details of the building were discovered. The north porch, seen in our view, is believed to have been erected under the superintendence of William of Wykeham; we now, however, only look upon his design, for the entire front, having greatly decayed, was renovated in 1822. It was happily uninjured by the great fire which destroyed the surrounding buildings. Our engraving exhibits this front and the Law Courts as they were seen at the commencement of the present century, and is copied from a painting lent to us by the excellent Lord Chief Baron. The buildings to the left were the first removed, together with the Star Chamber. At that time the Law Courts retained (at the angle nearest the Abbey) some of the brickwork of the sixteenth century.

WESTMINSTER BRIDGE WTSWG

Westminster Bridge, the work of Labelye, a Swiss, was the second erected over the Thames, London having but one bridge until the year 1750, when this was opened. It was built on caissons, and the foundations are bad; the stone is also decayed, and the bridge is now ruinous.
[ The new London Bridge allowed the tide to flow much more freely and the increased current here affected the foundations ]
At the present time workmen are employed night and day on the construction of a new bridge of iron, with stone piers, which is being executed by the admirable engineer, Mr. Page, who erected that at Chelsea.
Wordsworth's fine sonnet, "composed on Westminster Bridge, September 3, 1803", should not be omitted here. It is a noble picture of London at early morning: —
[Listen to 'Earth has not anything to show more fair' ]

Earth has not anything to show more fair
Dull would he be of soul who could pass by
A sight so touching in its majesty:
This City now doth like a garment wear
The beauty of the morning; silent, bare,
Ships, towers, domes, theatres, and temples lie
Open unto the fields, and to the sky;
All bright and glittering in the smokeless air.
Never did sun more beautifully steep
In his first splendour valley, rock, or hill;
Ne'er saw I, never felt, a calm so deep!
The river glideth at his own sweet will:
Dear God! the very houses seem asleep;
And all that mighty heart is lying still!

WHITEHALL

Richmond Terrace, and the houses in "the privy garden", known as Whitehall Gardens (in one of which Sir Robert Peel died), occupy the site, as they partly preserve the name, of the royal gardens and palace which once covered the spot; the latter was destroyed by a fire January, 1628, through the carelessness of a Dutch washerwoman, one of William III.'s servants.
It was an inconvenient series of old buildings, all of it that now remains being Inigo Jones's famous banqueting hall, the only portion ever executed of the great architect's grand design for its entire renovation.
Views of the street and river fronts may be seen in Brayley and Britton's "Londiniana", vol. ii.; and these authors say —
"Had the building been completed according to Inigo Jones's design, it would have comprised four pavilions of similar character to the present banqueting house, and we cannot but lament that an edifice conceived in a style of so much grandeur, and so truly worthy of becoming the abode of a British sovereign, should from any cause have been suffered to remain incomplete."
The "cause" was irresistible, — financial difficulties, and the Great Civil War in England, effectually stopped its progress. The banqueting room is now converted into a chapel.
The ceiling is decorated with an apotheosis of James I., painted by Rubens while on a visit to the court of Charles I. in the character of ambassador: he was paid £3000 for his work, and was knighted at Whitehall, February 21, 1630. The painting was "repaired" by Kent in the time of George II., and again by Cipriani at the latter part of the last century; Pennant says the latter artist had £2000 "for his trouble"; it is to be regretted that either artist was "troubled" on this score, for their labours have overlaid and obliterated the work of the great Fleming. Rubens' masterly sketch for the central compartment of the roof is preserved in our National Gallery. It was purchased in 1842 for £200

OLD WHITEHALL

The palace of Whitehall, with its gardens and surrounding buildings, as it appeared in the reign of Charles II., when seen from the Thames, is given in our engraving, from an ancient drawing in Wilkinson's "Londina Illustrata". The statue of James II. does not appear at the back of the banqueting house, thus enabling us to fix the date of the original sketch. The privy garden to the left of this, now covered with aristocratic residences, was then a garden, laid out with parterres and fountains, reaching from the Thames to Parliament Street. The old Horse-Guards is seen beyond, and the peculiar nature of this bird's eye view enables us to see a portion of St. James's Park beyond, and the canal in its centre edged with trees. At the upper corner of the extreme left of the view a portion of the old brick building of the Treasury, and the turrets of the famous gateway, designed by Holbein, may be perceived,— they are the relics of "York Place", the famed residence of Cardinal Wolsey, and the palace which belonged to the see of York by bequest from Bishop Walter Cray, who died 1255. Wolsey added greatly to the grandeur of the building, and lived full royally within its walls. Cavendish, his gentleman usher, has preserved a glowing account of the state, banquetings, and masques which enlivened it during his palmy days. His household amounted to five hundred persons, exclusive of retainers, and he selected them from among "the tallest that he could get in all this realm". Skelton, in his severe satire on Wolsey, furnished a dangerous parallel between the stateliness of the cardinal and that of the sovereign: —

The Kynges Courte
Should have the excellence;
But Hampton Courte
Hath the pre-emynence,
And York Place
With my Lorde's Grace;
To whose magnifycence
Is all the confluence."

Here Wolsey banqueted the king, nobles, and ambassadors, and here the monarch first met Anne Bullen, and afterwards "privily married her in his closet at Whitehall".
Wolsey's property had ceased therein at the beginning of 1630, when the king took all his possessions and changed the name of the building. Shakspere has immortalized some of the scenes here enacted, recording this change of masters in the speech of one of his characters, who exclaims —

- Sir, you
Must no more call it York Place, that is past;
For since the Cardinal fell, that title's lost:
'Tis now the King's, and called Whitehall.

SUFFOLK HOUSE

SUFFOLK HOUSE

Along the banks of the Thames, in the olden time, was a series of noble residences extending from Whitehall to the Temple.
The first of these was Suffolk House, which occupied the site of the present Northumberland House, and was erected on the site of the dissolved hospital of St. Mary Rouncival, by Henry Howard, Earl of Northampton, in the reign of James I.
He died there in 1614, and it then became the property of the Earl of Suffolk, and was called Suffolk House, when it was sketched by Hollar in the early part of the reign of Charles I. This sketch is preserved in the Pepysian Library, and is copied in our cut; it was a large quadrangular mansion, inclosing a courtyard, its lofty towers rising proudly on each side. The domestic offices were detached from the main building, and reached to the water-side; the space between, shaded by tall trees, was laid out in walks and gardens. A gate in the centre and a flight of steps led to the Thames — an essential convenience, when every nobleman kept his barge and liveried water-men, and the river was a great highway.
The daughter of this Duke of Suffolk marrying the Earl of Northumberland, the house passed into his possession, and received the name of Northumberland House.
Many alterations have been made in it, but it is still the most interesting aristocratic residence in London, retaining its old garden, separated from the Thames only by the wharves in Scotland Yard, above which wave the tree-tops, shutting out all surrounding houses from the quiet garden, and giving an air of almost pastoral repose to the back of the noble mansion, whose roof, crowned by the lion crest of the duke, can be distinguished from the river. It is the last of the old palatial residences of the nobility left to grace its banks.

HUNGERFORD BRIDGE [CHARING CROSS] WTSWG

[ Hungerford Pedestrian Toll Suspension Bridge was built by Brunel in 1845.
Renamed Charing Cross Bridge in 1848. Bought and demolished in 1864 - the chains used for the Bristol Clifton Suspension Bridge
It was replaced by Charing Cross Railway Bridge. ]

HAY BOAT

We next reach Hungerford Market * with its picturesque suspension bridge for foot passengers, completed in 1845, under the direction of Mr. I. K. Brunel
* The market takes its name from Sir Edward Hungerford, who, in the reign of Charles II., had a house on this site, which he converted into a market.
— and notice the group of hay-boats, with their brilliantly painted hulls, and brightly-coloured sails, unloading at the wharf beside it. They bring their cargoes of hay often from a long distance, and may be seen encountering the roughest weather. A number of them always come up every tide to Hungerford Bridge, where their freight is principally landed.

YORK HOUSE

Continuing our course toward the City from Hungerford Bridge, let us briefly describe the olden glories of the Thames banks, when the space between the river and the Strand was occupied by the palaces of the nobility. Close beside the bridge, on the site of the present Buckingham Street, stood York House, which we engrave from Hollar's view.

YORK HOUSE

It was anciently the town residence of the bishops of Norwich, and obtained its name from the exchange made with the archbishops of York, who adopted it as their palace in London, until Archbishop Mathew, in the reign of James I., exchanged it with the Crown for several manors. It was afterwards granted to the Lord Keeper, Sir Nicholas Bacon, who died here in 1507. His son, afterwards the famous Lord Chancellor Bacon, was born here in l560. He was so strongly attached to the place of his birth that when the Duke of Lennox proposed that he should sell it, or exchange it, he replied,
"York House is the house where my father died, and where I first breathed, and there will I breathe my last breath, if it so please God and the king." *
* Aubrey has preserved an anecdote of Bacon, which incidentally shows the purity of the Thames in his day:—
"His Lordship being in Yorke House garden, looking on fishers as they were throwing their net, asked them what they would take for their draught.
They answered, so much.
His Lordship would offer them no more but so much.
They drew up their net, and in it were only two or three little fishes.
His Lordship then told them it had been better for them to have taken his offer.
They replied, they hoped to have had a better draught;
'but', said his Lordship, 'Hope is a good breakfast, but an ill supper.'"
In the reign of Charles I. [York House] became the residence of his favourite, George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham.
It was bestowed on Fairfax, the parliamentary general, in the Great Civil War; and his daughter, marrying the second Duke of Buckingham, re -conveyed the property to the descendant of its earlier owner, who resided here after the Restoration; but his dissipated habits led to a necessity for its sale.
It was then pulled down, and various streets were built on the site; they preserve his worthless name in the titles, "George Street, Villiers Street, Duke Street, Of Alley, and Buckingham Street."
The house was a noble building, remarkable for the sumptuous character of its internal fittings, as well as for the fine antiques the duke had purchased from Rubens. It was chiefly used by him for state occasions. Bassompierre, during his embassy to England in 1626, visited it, and describes it as "extremely fine", and the most richly fitted up of any he ever saw.
The stairs which led to the river were surmounted by Inigo Jones's celebrated water-gate, still standing at the end of Buckingham Street, one of the most interesting and beautiful relics of ancient architecture in the metropolis. The garden joined that of Durham House.

DURHAM HOUSE

DURHAM HOUSE

Durham House, which stood on the site of the present Durham Yard, and occupied that portion of ground now covered by the Adelphi, * possessed very great historic interest, and preserved some antique features when Hollar drew the sketch (about the year 1640) from whicli our engraving is copied.
* The Adelphi was built by the brothers Adam, and named from the Greek word [adelphoi] (brothers), in compliment to them, because of the difficulties they had surmounted in erecting the important structure on what was bad and unprofitable ground — a muddy deposit from the Thames. It is constructed on vast arches, celebrated as the "night residence" of houseless and abandoned persons, the "Pariahs" of London life. The centre house of the terrace, No. 5, was occupied by Garrick, who died in it, January 20, 1779, and there "lay in state" previous to his interment at Westminster. His widow also resided there, dying in the same room as her husband, in 1822.
The strong walls of stone, the pointed arches, and the fortress-like towers, seem to be portions of the old work of the bishops of Durham, whose town residence was fixed here as early as the reign of Edward I. Stow says it was built by Bishop Hatfield in 1345. Bishop Tonstal surrendered it to Henry VIII., who converted it into a royal palace, giving in exchange the building known as "Cold Harbour", in Thames Street.
During a great tournament given at Westminster by that monarch in 1540, and which continued for six days, the challengers lodged at Durham House, where, Stow tells us,
"they not only feasted the King, Queen, ladies, and all the court, but also they cheared all the knights and burgesses of the Commons House in the Parliament; and entertained the Mayor of London, with the aldermen and their wives, at dinner."
Edward VI. granted Durham House to his sister Elizabeth as a temporary residence. It afterwards became the residence of John Dudley, Earl of Northumberland; and here was solemnized, in May, 1553, the ill-starred marriage of his fourth son, Lord Guildford Dudley, and the Lady Jane Grey, eldest daughter of Henry, Duke of Suffolk; a political alliance which ultimately brought both to the scaffold.
On the death of Edward VI., the plot for making Lady Jane Queen of England was carried out in this house; and here the crown was forced on her which so speedily became a crown of martyrdom.
Mary, on her acccession to the throne, returned the mansion to the see of Durham.
Elizabeth afterwards gave the use of the house to the great Sir Walter Raleigh, but he was obliged, after her decease, to restore it to the episcopal see.
The mansion was not long tenanted by the bishops, but was purchased in 1640 by the Earl of Pembroke. It was pulled down in the early part of the last century, and the ground covered with houses.

SALISBURY HOUSE

Salisbury House was separated from [Durham House] only by a small garden, and was built in the reign of James I. by his treasurer and secretary, Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury. It was a massive rectangular building, with turrets at the angles, and presented an imposing frontage to the Thames. After the earl's death it was divided into two mansions, and then subdivided; ultimately converted into an Exchange, but having no "success" it was purchased by builders, and Salisbury and Cecil Streets were erected on its site.

SALISBURY AND WORCESTER HOUSES

WORCESTER HOUSE

Close beside Salisbury, stood Worcester House, which, in the reign of Henry VIII., belonged to the see of Carlisle, but then passed into the hands of the earls of Bedford, and from them to the earls of Worcester, the last of whom died here in 1627. His son being created Duke of Beaufort, it changed its name to Beaufort House; and the space of ground it once occupied is still marked by Beaufort Buildings in the Strand, erected after its destruction by fire through the carelessness of a servant. Pennant informs us that the great Earl of Clarendon lived in it before he built his celebrated mansion in Piccadilly, paying for it at the extravagant rate of £500 per year, a sum fully equal to £1200 at present [1859].

SAVOY

THE SAVOY

The old palace called the Savoy was the next important residence on the river-bank. It was a fortress-like building close upon the stream, and without the intervening garden which characterized the others. It was originally founded by the Earl of Savoy in the reign of Henry III., and rebuilt by Henry, Duke of Lancaster.
Here was imprisoned John, King of France, after he had been captured by Edward the Black Prince at the battle of Poictiers, in 1356. He was honourably and courteously lodged here, and his imprisonment made as light as possible; the king and queen frequently visited him, and "made him great cheer". He was released in 1360; but, having returned to England on a visit, he died within the walls of this old palace, which had been assigned to him as his temporary residence while he remained in London.
It afterwards passed into the possession of John of Gaunt, Duke of Lancaster, and during that time was burnt by the "rabble rout" who followed Wat Tyler.
It lay in ruin and neglect for a long time after that event.
In 1505 it was restored as a hospital by Henry VII., suppressed by Edward VI., re-endowed by Queen Mary, and continued as a hospital and sanctuary, "a nursery of rogues and masterless men throughout that century".
It recovered some degree of respectability at the Restoration, and within its walls the meetings of the commissioners for the revision of the Liturgy were held in 1661, known as "the Savoy Conference". It consisted of twelve bishops and several Presbyterians.
At this time Fuller, the author of the "Worthies", was lecturer here; and Charles II. promised the place of "Master of the Savoy" to the poet Cowley; he, however, ultimately gave it to Dr. Killegrew, which occasioned Cowley to write his poem, "The Complaint".
The same sovereign established the French Church here, first opened in 1661.
Strype describes the old building as "very ruinous" in 1720; but he adds,
"in this Savoy, how ruinous soever it is, are divers good houses: first, the king's printing press for proclamations, Acts of Parliament, gazettes, and such like public papers; next, a prison; thirdly, a parish church, and three or four of the churches and places for religious assemblies — viz. for the French, for Dutch, for High Germans and Lutherans, and lastly for the Protestant Dissenters. Here be also harbours for many refugees and poor people."
The right of sanctuary was so strenuously upheld, that there is a record of one man who went, in 1696, to demand a debt from one who had taken sanctuary there, when the inhabitants rose en masse, tarred and feathered him, then carried him in a wheelbarrow to the Maypole in the Strand, and so bound him to it. The modern Londoner can scarcely believe that these lawless doings were practised in the very heart of civilization not more than a century and a half ago!
The building then going gradually to decay, was patched up, and chiefly used as a barrack for soldiers and a prison,
it was ultimately destroyed in 1816, to form the approaches to Waterloo Bridge.
The chapel, once within the walls, remains, and is a curious relic, containing many old monuments. It was built in 1505, and has a fine old ceiling, and a beautiful altar-screen, said to have been designed by Sir Reginald Bray, and recently restored by Sydney Smirke. The reparations were executed at the expense of Her Majesty in 1843. Several noted men are buried here — the poets Gawin Douglas and George Wither, the African traveller, Lander, and the historical painter, Hilton.

PEDLAR'S ACRE

The Surrey bank of the river between Westminster and Hungerford Bridges comprises the district known as "Pedlar's Acre", a piece of ground given to the parish of Lambeth, and situated on the verge of the Thames. Popular tradition asserts the gift to have been made by a pedlar, who owned the land, on condition that himself and his dog should be commemorated on one of the church windows. We engrave this far-famed piece of glass-painting, which is certainly of the time of Elizabeth; but there is no record in the parish accounts to justify the old tale. *
* Some writers believe the glass is a rebus on the name Chapman.
"Pedlar's Acre" was not called by that name till the end of the seventeenth century: its old name was Church Hopes.

LION BREWERY AND SHOT TOWER

The Lion Brewery and the great Shot Tower are the most conspicuous objects past Hungerford Bridge.
The latter is of cylindrical form, a hundred feet in height. The shot is formed by pouring molten lead from the upper part through small perforations, the drops rounding as they fall to the bottom in water.
The whole of this district was formerly known as Lambeth Marsh, an unwholesome and unprofitable locality, frequently overflowed in high tides.
The buildings on this bank have all been erected since the opening of Waterloo Bridge in 1817.

WATERLOO BRIDGE WTSWG

Waterloo Bridge, long celebrated as the finest over the Thames, and praised by Canova as
"the noblest bridge in the world",
was constructed by Rennie, at the expense of a public company. It cost £400,000; the approaches, &c., making up the sum to nearly a million. *
* Owing to the heavy rate of its tolls, it was for a long time unprofitable to the shareholders. So great was its loneliness, that it was almost unsafe at night, and the scene of frequent suicides.

WATERLOO BRIDGE AND SOMERSET HOUSE

SOMERSET HOUSE

Close to the foot of the bridge, on the City side, is Somerset House: it is a noble pile, now entirely devoted to government offices. *
* Except the rooms granted to the Antiquarian, Astronomical, and Geological Societies.
It was built by Sir William Chambers, and is his finest work. The Thames front is 800 feet in length, and is provided with a terrace, supported on arches, 50 feet above the bed of the river, and is the same number of feet in advance of the main walls. This terrace forms a noble promenade; it is much to be regretted that the public are excluded from what was once an agreeable airing-place for London.
Immediately adjoining Somerset House is the modern building, King's College.
The old palace of the Protector Somerset, uncle to Edward VI., stood upon this site, and gave name to the present structure; it was a picturesque brick and stone edifice, erected for him from the designs of John of Padua. When the "proud Somerset" was beheaded, in 1552, the house devolved to the crown; Edward VI. assigned it to his sister, the Princess (afterwards Queen) Elizabeth; and James I. settled it on his queen, who named it Denmark House, in compliment to her native country.
Inigo Jones added new buildings to it, and this is the condition of the building as exhibited in our view [of Old Somerset House].

OLD SOMERSET HOUSE

The great architect died within the walls of this building, in 1652.
Here lived Henrietta Maria, queen of Charles I., and here she founded a convent, and publicly performed the most slavish rites of the Catholic church; on one occasion her confessor enjoined as a penance that she should walk from hence to Tyburn barefooted. Cunningham says, "a few tombs of her French Roman Catholic attendants are built into the cellars of the present building, immediately beneath the great square."
Here Oliver Cromwell "lay in state"; so also did General Monk.
Catherine of Braganza, queen of Charles II., took up her residence here, at the Restoration. It seems to have been considered the private property of the Queens Consort of England, and was during the last century chiefly used, as Hampton Court was used, for lodging the aged or poor retainers of the Court. In 1775 Buckingham House was given to Queen Charlotte in lieu of it; and it was soon afterwards pulled down.

ARUNDEL HOUSE

Between this place and the Temple there is now nothing of importance to arrest the attention of the voyager.
In the old time the ground was chiefly occupied by two noble mansions and their gardens; the first being Arundel House, the home of Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel, whose classic tastes made the mansion celebrated in the days of James and Charles I., for the rare collection of marbles and gems of all kinds he gathered here. He was the greatest patron of literature and the fine arts of his own, and we might also add of any other, time.
Inigo Jones first rose into notice under his countenance; he brought Hollar from Prague, and established him in London; Francis Junius and Oughtred were received into his family; Cotton, Spelman, Camden, and Selden were among his intimate friends. It is only to be regretted that at his death the splendid collections he had amassed should have been so much dispersed as the state of the times, and perhaps more particularly the limited, if not distressed circumstances of the countess, his widow, occasioned.
The marbles, embracing the ancient inscriptions, and among them that invaluable monument of Grecian history, the Parian Chronicle, were presented to the University of Oxford, in 1677, by his grandson, Henry Howard, Earl of Arundel and Surrey, and afterwards Duke of Norfolk. *
* Parker's "Handbook to Oxford".
They are now kept in the quadrangle of the Oxford Divin!ty School. It was at the instigation of Evelyn that the marbles were sent there, and the library to the then recently founded Royal Society, in which he also took a warm interest. Evelyn describes his visit to Arundel House in 1667, and says of the marbles:
"When I saw these precious monuments miserably neglected, and scattered up and down about the garden, and other parts of Arundel House, and how exceedingly the corrosive air of London impaired them, I procured him to bestow them on the University of Oxford, This he was pleased to grant me, and now gave me the key of the gallery, with leave to mark all those stones, urns, altars, &c., and whatever I found had inscriptions on them that were not statues."
The donor died 1677, and in the following year the old mansion was pulled down, and Arundel Street, Surrey Street, Howard Street, and Norfolk Street, were erected on its site.

While Hollar resided in Arundel House, he made the curious engravings which are so well known to London topographers, preserving as they do the peculiar features of the assemblage ot old buildings of which the mansion then consisted. * The curious view of London from the roof of this house we copy from Hollar's careful etching. It is of peculiar interest, and was executed about 1646. Looking toward the city, the large building in front is Essex House, and over it we see old St. Paul's Cathedral, after the spire had been destroyed by lightning. The view of the group of houses and churches beyond is bounded by the Tower and old London Bridge, with its numerous arches and houses thereon. It is a faithful and curious picture of "the princely city" before the Great Fire.
* It was originally the town residence of the bishops of Bath, and passed from them, in the reign of Edward VI., to Lord Thomas Seymour, brother of the powerful Protector, Somerset. After the execution of Seymour, the property was purchased by Henry Fitz-Alan, Earl of Arundel.

ESSEX HOUSE

ESSEX HOUSE

Essex House, adjoining, obtained its name from Queen Elizabeth's unfortunate favourite; and from it he made his unsuccessful attempt to excite a revolt in the city, which led him to the scaffold. It has been well described by Pepys, as "a large, yet ugly house"; but it was continuously inhabited by a series of noble residents until the close of the seventeenth century, soon after which period it was taken down. It stood on the site of the present Essex Street.

TEMPLE

We now arrive at the Temple Stairs, and admire the group of trees which still surround the little fountain that inspired the muse of L.E.L.; whose tastes were essentially those of a lover of London and its associations. As her graceful little poem is but slightly known, and few London scenes have inspired poets with a theme, we reproduce it here; it is one of Miss Landon's latest works: —
[ Letitia Elizabeth Landon Click for the full poem which Mr & Mrs Hall shortened ]

THE TEMPLE GARDEN.

The fountain's low singing is heard in the wind,
Like a melody bringing sweet fancies to mind;
Away in the distance is heard the far sound
From the streets of the city, that compass it round,
LiKe the echo of mountains, or ocean's deep call:
Yet that fountain's low singing is heard over all.

The turf and the terrace slope down to the tide
Of the Thames, that sweeps onward, a world at its side;
And dark the horizon, with mast and with sail
Of the thousand tall ships that have weather'd the gale;
While beyond the arched bridge the old Abbey appears,
Where England has garner'd the glories of years.

There are lights in the casements, — how weary the ray
That asks for the night-time the toils of the day!
I fancy I see the brow bent o'er the page,
Whose youth bears the paleness and wrinkles of age:
What struggles, what hopes, what despair may have been,
Where sweep those dark branches of shadowy green!

Close to [the Temple Garden] is the noble old hall, remarkable as the only building remaining in which a play of Shakspere's was acted by his contemporaries, * as part of their Christmas revels.
* It is recorded in the Diary of John Manningham, a student here, as follows: —
"Feb. 2, 1601. At our feast we had a play called 'Twelfth Night; or, What you Will'."
The fine old garden on the river's bank has been a garden from the days when the chiefs of the White and Red Rose factions pinched their flowers here as badges for their adherents — a scene so vividly rendered in Shakspere's "Henry VI." The present gardener has restored the glories of the old garden, as well as such glories can be restored to a place in "populous city pent". The show of summer flowers is generally good, but that of chrysanthemums at the close of each year attract and gratify thousands — the beds being masses of variegated flowers.
The picturesque group, called "New Paper Buildings", of red brick and stone, forming so striking a feature at the eastern side, was erected by Sidney Smirke, A.R.A., in 1848.
The memories that are associated with this spot, the early home of the Knights Templars of London, the solemn old church, where their effigies still lie, and where such men as Selden and Oliver Goldsmith repose, demand a volume for their due description.

WHITEFRIARS

Between the Temple and Blackfriars Bridge, was the old lawless district known as "Alsatia", celebrated by Scott in his "Fortunes of Nigel"; he there gives a vivid and true picture of the loose characters by whom it was inhabited. Its proper name was "Whitefriars", from the church of the Carmelites, originally founded in the thirteenth century, which, with the monastic establishment, were destroyed at the Reformation; but the privileges of sanctuary continued until it became a nest of ruffians, fraudulent debtors, and the worst members of society, who crowded into the narrow lanes, where the law had no power. It ultimately became so dangerous a nuisance that its privileges were abolished, and the district is now principally occupied by factories and gas-works.

BLACKFRIARS

BARGES AT BLACKFRIARS

The Southwark side of the river, originally low marsh land, is now thickly covered with houses; the river-bank presenting a continued series of wharves, where may be constantly seen groups of barges, such as are depicted in our cut. They have discharged their cargoes, and are waiting for high water, to be "off" with the next ebb.
The principal vessel in the cut is one of the old-fashioned, square bowed, flat-bottomed barges, having a large hatchway in the centre for the cargo, with the small bunk, or cabin, for the crew. She also carries ingenious weatherboards, to prevent the great amount of leeway a vessel without a keel would make, beating in a fresh breeze. The sails consist of a sprit, foresail, and mizen, and her mast lowers down by the forestay when the vessel is passing under bridges. The crew consists of a captain and three or four men.

CUPER'S GARDENS

On the Surrey side of the river, and exactly opposite Somerset House, was a celebrated old place of amusement, known as Cuper's Gardens. It was formed by a gardener of that name, who had been servant to the Earls of Arundel, and was laid out in shady walks, arbours, and flower-beds, the whole being decorated with such antique fragments as the earl was willing to spare him: some few of these were afterwards found in the Thames, and excited much curiosity.
This garden was opened in 1678, and Aubrey, in his account of Surrey, says, "the conveniency of its arbours, walks, and several remains of Greek and Roman antiquities, have made this place much frequented".
Early in the following century, an attempt was made here to rival Vauxhall, by the erection of an orchestra, and the exhibition of fireworks. The gardens ultimately obtained a bad repute, and were closed in 1753.

BLACKFRIARS BRIDGE WTSWG

[ Blackfriar's Bridge was about to be demolished.
See bridge in background of print "Barges at Blackfriars" above ]

Blackfriars Bridge, the third bridge built in London, was erected by Robert Mylne, and opened for general traffic in 1769. The bridge and approaches cost the city £273,000.
It has been since repaired at a cost of £74,000.

RIVER FLEET

Close beside the [Blackfriars] bridge (on the west of the London end) is a large arched sewer, which is all that now represents the old river Fleet, thus converted into an immense drain; but in the olden time it was a stream wide enough to allow barges to go inland as far as Holborn, and spanned by a bridge near the Thames, "after the manner of the Rialto, at Venice".
There is preserved in the library at Guildhall a curious painting, executed in the early part of the last century (attributed to Canaletti, but most probably by Hogarth's friend, Scott), which preserves a view of the "River Wells", as it was anciently called, but which had obtained an unsavoury reputation at that time, not a little aided by the severe lines of Pope, who summoned the heroes of his " Dunciad" —

Where Fleet ditch, with disemboguing streams,
Rolls the large tribute of dead dogs to Thames.

This little river, in its days of purity, obtained its name from the fleetness with which its waters ran toward the Thames.
The stream comprised the waters of certain "wells", or springs, to the northward of the city, and obtained a large accession about Clerkenwell; thence they continued down Turnmill Street, a name very simple in its etymology, and derived from the mills on the banks of the rivulet, which widened at Holborn (literally "old bourne", or "old brook"), where a bridge was erected; another was opposite Fleet Street; and a third nearer Bridewell, which is that represented in our engraving.

FLEET BRIDGE [near Bridwell]

The Fleet river became a nuisance in the days of Elizabeth, when it was little better than an open drain. Occasional attempts were made to improve it, particularly after the Great Fire, when it was railed off, and wharves constructed, so that vessels might come again up to Holborn, and unload their cargoes. This good intention failed from want of patronage;
the wharves became ruinous, the trades carried on in them still more objectionable, and the nuisance increased till 1765, when the stream was arched over, and Fleet Market, a lane of shops and sheds, erected over it. In 1829 the market was removed. The "river" still runs down Farringdon Street, invisible in its course.

ST PAUL'S CATHEDRAL

ST PAUL'S CATHEDRAL

The number of church steeples that now appear above the city wharves, compared with the few seen farther west, recalls to memory the remark of Sir Roger de Coverley, who argued therefrom on the morality of the two districts.
Grandly above all rises St. Paul's Cathedral, the noble work of Sir Christopher Wren, to whose genius we are also indebted for the greater number of the churches whose steeples are so conspicuous.
Unfortunately we do not look upon the great metropolitan cathedral as Wren designed it. His first plan did not include the long aisle and side chapels now a part of it, and which are more fitted for the Romish ritual than our own. Wren had determined to omit them, and so construct the only great Protestant Cathedral; but the Duke of York, afterwards James II., obliged him to alter the design. which caused the great architect many bitter tears. Thus, to gratify the wish of one who sat upon our throne but two short years, and was then banished for ever, we lost a magnificent idea, peculiarly fitted for us of England. Wren's original design we here engrave.

WREN'S ORIGINAL DESIGN FOR ST PAUL'S

The dome is much more graceful than that we now see completed; the architect made his entire design converge to that grand centre. The wooden model is still in the possession of the Dean and Chapter of St. Paul's; and such are the grandeur and beauty of its arrangements, within and without, that all who study it must deeply regret to find that Wren's ideas have been so unfortunately rendered inoperative.
The older cathedral, "the great glory" of ancient London, we also picture from Hollar's careful view.

OLD ST PAUL'S CATHEDRAL

It shows the steeple entire, before its destruction by lightning in 1561; it was never afterwards restored. In the days of James I. its great state of decay obliged some measures to be adopted to preserve the building. It was patched up in a slovenly manner, and so remained till Charles I. set a vigorous example of restoration, and built the famous portico from the design of Inigo Jones. The royal example was followed by the noble and wealthy, and in 1643 the renovation was completed at a cost of one hundred thousand pounds. Desecration damaged it in the civil war, and the good work had to be done over again at the Restoration; but it went on slowly, and the Great Fire completely destroyed the ancient edifice.

WREN'S PLAN FOR REBUILDING AFTER THE GREAT FIRE WTSWG

Wren furnished a noble plan for the restoration of London after this event. His mode of operation is detailed by his son in his "Parentalia".
He says, that after his appointment as surveyor-general and principal architect for rebuilding the city, he immediately
"took an exact survey of the whole area and confines of the burning, having traced over with great trouble and hazard the great plain of ashes and ruins; and designed a plan or model of a new city, in which the deformity and inconveniences of the old town were remedied, by the enlarging the streets and lanes, and carrying them as near parallel to one another as might be; avoiding, if compatible with greater conveniences, all acute angles; by seating all the parochial churches conspicuous and insular; by forming the most public places into large piazzas, the centre of six or eight ways; by uniting the halls of the twelve chief companies into one regular square annexed to Guildhall; by making a quay on the whole bank of the river from Blackfriars to the Tower."
In his clear-sighted plans and useful improvements he designed
"the streets to be of three magnitudes; the three principal leading straight through the city, and one or two cross streets to be at least ninety feet wide; others sixty feet; and lanes about thirty feet, excluding all narrow dark alleys without thoroughfares or courts."

WREN'S PLAN FOR REBUILDING LONDON

An examination of his plan (engraved [here]) will make these improvements apparent, and show how much London has lost by not adopting Wren's views. They were opposed by the vested interests of the citizens, which then, as now, too frequently deprecated changes that were evident advantages. They had insurmountable prejudices in favour of rebuilding in old localities and in old styles, and hence the architect lost the opportunity of rendering London "the most magnificent as well as commodious city for health and trade of any upon earth."
A glance at his plan will show how well he had laid out main streets, and studied the proper position of public buildings, with an eye as well to utility as to architectural effect.
(A) shows the position of St. Paul's, which would have been the first grand object that claimed attention when the western side of the city was entered.
At (B) is Doctors' Commons, in close and proper proximity.
The letter (C) refers to the piazzas with which Wren intended to ornament London where the principal streets met.
At (D) we have the principal buildings sacred to trade and commerce;
(E) is the Post office;
(F), the Excise office;
(G), Insurance office;
(H), the Mint;
while at (I) are the Goldsmiths' shops.
(K) shows the position of Guildhall;
(L) that of the Custom House.
At (M) are the public markets;
(N), the strand entrance to the city;
(O) is Smithfield;
(P), the Temple;
(Q), a quay along the entire bank of the Thames;
(R) is the débouchment of the Fleet river at Bridewell;
(S), Queenhithe;
(T), Dowgate;
(U), London Bridge;
and (V), Billingsgate.
(W) shows the position of the Tower;
(X), that of Moorfields;
and (Y), the circuit of the City Walls.
The small black blocks, which are isolated, represent churches which he had intended to place in prominent positions in the main thoroughfares, but always free of the houses.
It is only necessary further to remark, that that portion of our plan which is covered by lines of tint represents that part of London which was destroyed by the Great Fire.

BAYNARD'S CASTLE, PAUL'S WHARF

BAYNARD'S CASTLE

The river-banks at "Paul's Wharf" are now lined with tall warehouses, where once stood Baynard's Castle, an antique edifice, so called from a follower of William of Normandy, its original occupant.
It was a strong but gloomy pile, the occasional residence of many remarkable people, and the scene of some few historic events, one of which is immortalized by Shakspere, in his " Richard III.", and in which he has closely followed the narrative of Sir Thomas More. The Duke of Gloucester was residing at that time in Baynard's Castle, and here his creature, the Duke of Buckingham, induced the citizens to visit him and offer him the crown.
On many occasions of formality it was used as a royal palace, until the reign of Queen Elizabeth; and was ultimately destroyed in the Great Fire of London. It still gives its name to the Yard in which it stood.

GOVERNMENT OF THE RIVER

The City of London is divided into twenty-six Wards, each governed hy an alderman and one or more deputies; the mayor is chosen from the aldermen; he must be a member of one of the twelve great livery companies of merchantmen or traders; and if he be not a member of any of these companies, he is chosen into one of them.
Until recently he had the uncontrolled conservancy of the river Thames and the waters of the Medway, from London Bridge to Rochester down the river, and from London Bridge to Staines up the river.
He held Courts of Conservancy whenever he saw a necessity for them, and had the power of summoning juries in Kent and Middlesex, whose business it was to go on the river in boats to view the state of it, make their presentments, and furnish their report to his lordship. On some occasions these courts were held in the state barge, which was brought to that spot in the river with which the inquiry was connected, for the convenience of witnesses attending from the neighbouring villages.

THE LORD MAYOR'S BARGE

The Lord Mayor's and Companies' barges are the last relics of the old water-pageantry of London. In the olden time each noble who resided on the banks of the river kept his state barge, and had watermen, dressed in the livery of the family, bearing its badge on their sleeve. On the 9th of November it is the custom of the Mayor and citizens to go, in their gaily gilt and decorated barges (generally from Blackfriars Bridge), to the Court of Exchequer, in Westminster, and take the necessary oaths. The effect on the Thames is singularly picturesque.

QUEENHITHE

QUEENHITHE

A short distance onward, and we arrive at the old haven, known as Queenhithe. *
It retains more of the characteristic features of the Thames bank during the last century than are to be seen in any other part of London. The old wooden wharves, the boats in the little dock, the high steps leading from the water, and the picturesque tree overshadowing them, seem to belong to the days of Anne, when the traffic in boats on the river was considerable, and the rich citizen and his wife would "take water" here for Vauxhall or Ranelagh. It probably obtains its name from the gift of it by King John to his mother, Eleanor, queen of Henry II.; but it was known in Saxon times as "Edrid's Hithe", and has been a common quay for nearly nine hundred years.
* We engrave a penny of Alfred the Great, found in the mud of the Thames near this spot, and and which is of immediate interest here, as it is his "London type", and contains on the obverse the monogram "Londinium", the letters forming part of each other — a convenient mode of getting a long name in a small compass. These early coins, though excessively rude, are of value in history, and tell of the very low state of general art at the era when they were executed. Many are remarkable for their rude imitation of the superior works of the Romans.

SOUTHWARK BRIDGE WTSWG

Immediately after passing the Hithe, we reach Southwark Bridge; it was designed by Rennie, and built by a company at a cost of £800,000. It has three cast-iron arches, the span of the central arch being 240 feet, that of each side being 210 feet; the piers and abutments are of stone. It was opened March 22, 1819.

PARIS GARDEN

We cross the river to visit the Surrey bank of the Thames, for the most interesting points of its early history are comprised between the two bridges — Blackfriars and Southwark.
The Surrey side was "fashionable" in the reign of Elizabeth, the Londoners being ferried across to the places of popular amusement there thickly located.
The Blackfriars Road now passes over the site of "Paris Garden", where bear and bull-baiting rejoiced the citizens, the gala days being usually Sundays.

PARIS GARDEN

Our print is copied from the rare woodcut map of London in the time of Henry VIII., now in the library at Guildhall; it exhibits in the foreground the kennels for the dogs, and the tanks in which they were washed. A graphic description of the place has been given by Paul Hentzner, a German, who visited it in 1598. He says it was
"built in the form of a theatre, for the baiting of bulls and bears: they are fastened behind, and then worried by great English bull dogs; but not without great risk to the dogs, from the horns of the one, and the teeth of the other; and it sometimes happens they are killed upon the spot; fresh ones are immediately supplied in the place of those that are wounded or tired. To this entertainment there often follows that of whipping a blinded bear, which is performed by five or six men, standing circularly with whips, which they exercise upon him without any mercy, as he cannot escape from them because of his chain. He defends himself with all his force and skill, throwing down all who come within his reach, and are not active enough to get out of it, and tearing the whips out of their hands, and breaking them. At these spectacles, and everywhere else, the English are constantly smoking tobacco. Fruits, such as apples, pears, and nuts, according to the season, are carried about to be sold, as well as ale and wine."

THE GLOBE THEATRE

The same writer mentions the theatres for dramatic representation on this side the water: the most westerly was the Swan, which seems to have gone to decay in the early part of the seventeenth century. Near that part of Southwark crossed by the road from the iron bridge, stood that most famous building — The Globe, of which Shakspere was part proprietor, and for which he wrote his greatest plays. Its aspect will be best understood from our cut, copied from Visscher's map, 1616.

GLOBE THEATRE

Beside it were "the Rose" and "the Hope" playhouses, receiving their titles from the signs or figures painted or sculptured over their doors. Rose Alley and Hope Alley still mark the sites of these theatres:
the more celebrated "Globe" is believed to have stood where the ironworks of Messrs. Sheeres are now located, close beside the bridge.
The Globe theatre obtained its name from the figure which was placed over the entrance, and which represented Atlas supporting a large globe, under which was written, "Totus Mundus agit Histrionem"
[ Literally "All the world plays the actor" - so "All the world's a stage ..." ]
— a sentiment the great dramatist has finely worked out in one of his most famous soliloquies.
Shakspere became part proprietor of the theatre soon after it was constructed, in 1593. *
* He is noted as "one of the inhabitants of Southwark" in a paper at Dulwich College, dated 1596; and in 1603 James I. granted him and his fellows licence to act "at their now usual house called the Globe."
It was burnt down June 29, 1613, while Shakspere's play of "King Henry VIII." was being performed. In the scene of the masque at York Place, some of the wadding, shot from the cannon fired at the king's entry, set fire to the thatch of the roof, and so destroyed it. It was a mere framework of timber and plaster, open to the sky, and covered with thatch. Sir Henry Wotton, in one of his letters, describes the conflagration: —
"It kindled inwardly, and ran round like a train, consuming within less than a hour the whole house to the very ground. Yet nothing did perish therein but wood and straw, and a few forsaken cloaks."
In the year 1614 it was rebuilt of stronger material, as represented in our cut, and the fact is amusingly recorded in the following lines by Taylor, "the Water Poet" * -

As gold is better that in fire's tried,
So is the Bankside Globe that late was burn'd
For where before it had a thatched hide,
Now to a stately theatre 'tis turn'd:
Which is an emblem that great things are won
By those that dare through greatest dangers run.

* [Taylor] was so called from having been originally a Thames waterman. Watermen at that time formed a numerous body:
Stow says, in his "Survey of London", 1603, that "there appertained to the cities of London, Westminster, and Southwark, above the number, it is supposed, of two thousand wherries, and other small boats, whereby three thousand poor men, at the least, be set on work and maintained."
[The Globe Theatre] ceased to be popular after the time of James I., and was
"pulled down to the ground by Sir Matthew Brand, on Monday, the 15th of April, 1644, to make tenements in the room of it." *
* Colliers "Life of Shakspere"

THE BILLY BOY

BILLY BOY

Crossing to the London side of the bridge, our attention is again directed to the busy wharves and the trading boats near them: one of these we engrave; it is of a peculiar kind, termed a "Billy-boy", — the sailors' name for a round bow and stern coasting schooner: it is an excellent sea boat, and, from its box-like form, carries a large cargo.
These vessels usually come from Yorkshire, but are generally found on most parts of the English coast: their masts "lower", like the London barges, for passing beneath bridges.

FISHMONGERS' HALL

FISHMONGERS' HALL

We meet with no important building until we reach the Fishmongers' Hall, at the foot of London Bridge, which is a modern structure, built on the site of the old hall, in 1831. We engrave the original stone-fronted hall that existed on the same spot before the Great Fire of London, as depicted by Hollar, in 1647, including also some of the wharves and buildings of that era, to complete as nearly as we can our picture of the banks of the Thames.
This view completely realizes the idea we should form from D'Avenant's description of the aspect of the Thames banks. It occurs in "The First Day's Entertainment at Rutland House" (1656), in which a Frenchman and an Englishman dispute concerning the state of the rivers of Paris and London. The former complains of the confused buildings on its banks —
"Here a lord, there a dyer, and places of the worst kind between both";
but the Englishman triumphs in asserting the Thames possessed greater purity than the Seine.

ABOVE BRIDGE

We have thus arrived at London Bridge, having been compelled to limit our descriptions to a mere enumeration of the various objects of interest the voyager will encounter on his way.
The various houses from Southwark Bridge to "the turn" leading to Barclay's brewery have nothing to recommend them to notice, but that they stand on the spot where the disreputable "garden-houses" of the Shaksperian era were located, and the "stews" that were rented from the Bishop of Winchester.
Amid the wharves close to the river-side may still be traced some of the walls of the bishop's palace, which, with its gardens, occupied a large piece of ground: the old hall was burnt down in 1814; the gardens had been previously built upon.

COLLIERS

COLLIERS UNLOADING

Along the banks are closely "congregated" the coal barges; and a busy scene is there when the colliers unload their freights, by aid of numerous "coal-whippers" employed by dealers.

ST MARY OVERY'S

A small creek, called "St. Saviour's Dock", comes nearly up to the principal door of "St. Saviour's", or, as it is sometimes termed, "St. Mary Overy's church", one of the finest edifices on the banks of the Thames, but which has been unfortunately "restored", and partly rebuilt. Twenty years ago it was remarkable for the variety of its antique architecture, all of which has been de- stroyed: the Lady Chapel at the back would have suffered the same fate, but for the strenuous exertions of the parishioners.
It has many curious monuments, the most remarkable being that of the poet Gower, the friend of Chaucer, and the favourite poet of the unfortunate Richard II. Here are also buried Edmund Shakspere, the youngest brother of the immortal William, and his friend Henslowe, the great theatrical manager; Fletcher, the ally of Beaumont; and, greater than all, Philip Massinger, who died poor, without a mark by which to know his grave, his interment being simply noted in the parish register as that of "a stranger".

LONDON BRIDGE

GATE: OLD LONDON BRIDGE

A strongly-embattled gate protected the entrance from Southwark to Old London Bridge in the reign of Elizabeth, and was usually garnished with traitors' heads in "rich abundance", as may be seen in our cut, copied from Visschcr's view, in 1579.
The bridge was at that period covered with houses, a narrow road passing through arcades beneath them; and they abutted on props over the river on either side. The open spaces on the bridge were few; its general aspect is exhibited in our view, as delineated by Hollar, in 1647.

OLD LONDON BRIDGE

It was proudly spoken of by our ancestors; thus, in the translation of Ortelius, published by J. Shaw, in 1603, he says of the Thames, —
"It is beautified with statelye pallaces, built on the side thereof; moreover, a sumptuous bridge, sustayned upon nineteen arches, with excellent and beauteous housen built thereon."
Camden, in his great work, the "Britannia", says, —
"It may worthily carry away the prize from all the bridges in Europe", being "furnished on both sides with passing faire houses, joining one to another in manner of a street."

HOUSES ON LONDON BRIDGE, 1756

Two of these buildings we may briefly describe:
the first of these was a picturesque wooden gate and tower, erected in 1579;
the second, a little further, on the seventh and eighth arches from the Southwark side, was the far-famed "Nonesuch House", a term applied to it from its supposed unique character; it was built entirely of wood, cut and carved in Holland, brought over in pieces, and fastened, when erected on the bridge, with wooden pegs only.
The other houses do not demand particular notice; they were allowed to incommode the structure till 1758, when, for considerations of public safety, they were removed.
In Scott's view of London Bridge, 1756, (now in the Vernon Gallery), we can trace the ruinous remains of the old Nonesuch House, as well as fragments of the Southwark Gate, and the squalid buildings that were heaped on the ancient structure.
The arches were rendered still narrower by protecting them from the wear of water by wooden "starlings", which may be seen in our cut above, by this means many of them were impassable, and others only afforded passage for very small boats; this contraction produced a fall of water of several feet, and at every change of tide it rushed through with great noise and foaming velocity, carrying boats beyond Billingsgate.
Many lives and much property were lost yearly, and ultimately this bridge (erected by Peter of Colechurch in 1200) ceased to be used, after the opening of the new bridge in 1831; soon afterwards it was entirely removed.
In the process of clearing away the foundations, many antiquities were discovered; it had been the great highway over the Thames from the Roman era, and numerous relics were obtained, varying in date from that period to our own. *
* We engrave such specimens of Roman coins found here as belong to the Britannic series. The large central coin is one struck by Hadrian, and remarkable for the figure of Britannia, the first time impersonated as an armed female seated on a rock. It is the prototype of the more modern Britannia, reintroduced by Charles II., and which still appears on our copper money.

ROMAN COINS

The smaller coins are such as were struck, during the reign of Constantine the Great, in the city of London, and are marked with the letters P. LON., for "Pecunia Londinensis", money of London.
Much of the ancient history of England is connected with this famed old bridge, which, for so many centuries, was a great highway over the Thames. Its "Chronicles" have been written by Mr. Richard Thompson, of the London Institution, in a portly volume of nearly seven hundred pages. We cannot in our brief notice do more than point out a few of its suggestive "memories".

THE BEAR

The old inns that once lined the High Street of Southwark, and chief among them Chaucer's "Tabard", would alone furnish many pages of interesting narrative; we content ourselves with a brief notice of one which stood close to the bridge, and for which we are indebted to our friend, G. R. Corner, Esq., F.S.A.
The "Bear", at the Bridge-foot, was a noted house of entertainment during the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries, and it remained until the houses on the old bridge were pulled down, in or about the year 1760. This house was situate in the parish of St. Olave, Southwark, on the west side of the High Street, and between Pepper Alley and the foot of London Bridge. *
* For the earliest notice of the "Bear" at the Bridge-foot, I am indebted to the notes of Mr. Jacob Henry Burn, in his Catalogue of the London Traders, Tavern, and Coffee-house Tokens, current in the seventeenth century, presented to the library of the Corporation of London by Henry Benjamin Hanbury Beaufoy, Esq.
Mr. Burn tells us that the "Bear" at Bridge-foot was a house of considerable antiquity, and that among the disbursements of Sir John Howard, in his steward's accounts yet extant, are noticed,
"March 6, 1463-4. Item: payd for red wyn at the Bere in Sowthewerke, iijd" [3 pence]
And again,
"March 14 (same year). Item: payd at dyner at the Bere in Sowthewerke, in costys, iijs. iiijd. [3 shillings and 3 pence]
Item: that my mastyr lost at shotynge, xxd. [20 pence] "
The next mention of the "Bear" is in a deed in my own possession, dated 12th December, 1554, in the first and second years of Philip and Mary, whereby Edmonde Wythipolle, of Gwypiswiche (Ipswich), gentleman, conveyed to Henry Leke, of Suthwark, beer-brewer (with other premises), the yearly quit rent of two shillings, going out of a tenement, being a tavern called the "Beare", in Southwark aforesaid, and in the parish of St. Olaf (St. Olave);
and another deed of the same date, and to the like effect, is witnessed by "Roger Hyepy", who, I find by the parish books, was at that time landlord of the "Bear", which was a house much frequented by the inhabitants of Southwark. *
* It may probably be shown in one of the three gabled houses to the left of our view of the Southwark Gate.
It is frequently mentioned in the accounts of the churchwardens of St. Olave's: for instance: —

There are extant two tradesmen's tokens of the seventeenth century, issued by occupiers of the "Bear". *
* Manning and Bray's "Surrey", vol. iii. Appendix. Akerman's "Tradesmen's Tokens".
One has on the obverse a bear with a chain,
and the inscription — " Abraham Browne, at ye",
and on the reverse — "Bridg foot, Southwark":
in the centre — "His Halfpeny";
and the other has on the obverse a bear passant, with collar and chain,
and the inscription —
"Cornelius Cooke, at the ";
reverse, "Beare at the Bridgefut";
in the centre, C. C. A.
Cornelius Cooke was a man of some note in his time. I find him mentioned in the parish accounts of St. Olave's, as overseer of the land side, as early as 1630. He afterwards became a soldier, and was a captain of the Trained Bands. He rose to the rank of colonel in Cromwell's army, and was appointed one of the commissioners for the sale of the king's lands. After the restoration of King Charles II. he seems to have settled down among his old friends in St. Olave's, as landlord of the "Bear", at the Bridge-foot, where he doubtless frequently fought o'er his fields again, and told his tales of the civil wars.
Gerrard, in a letter to Lord Strafford (printed among the Strafford papers), dated January, 1633, intimates that
all back doors to taverns on the Thames were commanded to be shut up; only the "Bear" at the Bridge-foot is exempted, for the convenience of passengers to Greenwich." *
* The "Cavaliers' Ballad" on the magnificent funeral honours rendered to Admiral Dean (killed June 2nd, 1653) while passing by water to Henry the Seventh's Chapel, has the following allusion —

From Greenwich towards the Bear at Bridge-foot,
He was wafted with wind that had water to 't.

In another ballad, "On banishing the Ladies out of Town" by the commonwealth authorities, the notoriety of the "Bear" at Bridge-foot is again manifest: —

Farewell, Bridgefoot, and Bear thereby,
And those bald pates that stand so high;
We wish it from our very souls
That other heads were on those piles.

Burn's Catalogue of Beaufoy Tokens
The allusion to bald pates refers to the traitors' heads exposed on the Bridge-gate.
The "Bear", at London Bridge foot, is twice mentioned by Samuel Pepys in his amusing Diary-
"24 February, 1666-7. Going thro' bridge by water, my waterman told me how the mistress of the 'Beare' tavern, at the Bridge-foot, did lately fling herself into the Thames, and drown herself; which did trouble me the more when they told me it was she that did live at the 'White Horse' tavern, in Lombard Street, which was a most beautiful woman as most I have seen. It seems she has had long melancholy upon her, and hath endeavoured to make away with herself often.
"3 April, 1667. Here I hear how the King is not so well pleased with this marriage between the Duke of Richmond and Mrs. Stewart as is talked: and that he, by a wile, did fetch her to the 'Beare', at the Bridge-foot, where a coach was ready, and they are stole away into Kent, without the King's leave; and that the King hath said he will never see her more: but people do think that it is only a trick." *
* There is yet another poetical reference to the "Bear " at Bridge-foot, in a scarce poem entitled "The Last Search after Claret in Southwark; or, A Visitation of the Vintners in the Mint; with the Debates of a Committee of that profession, thither fled to avoid the cruel persecution of their unmerciful creditors: a Poem London: printed for E. Hawkins, 1691", quarto; in which the "Bear" is thus mentioned by the author, after landing at Pepper Alley; —

Through stinks of all sorts, both the simple and compound,
Which through narrow alleys our senses do confound,
We came to the Bear, which we soon understood
Was the first house in Southwark built after the Flood,
And has such a succession of vintners known,
Not more names were e'er in Welsh pedigrees shown;
But claret with them was so much out of fashion,
That it has not been known there a whole generation.

The "Bear" continued to afford hospitable entertainment to all who could pay, until the year 1761, when it was pulled down, on the bridge being widened, and the houses thereon removed. In the Public Advertiser of Saturday, December 26, 1761, is the following announcement: —
"Thursday last the workmen employed in pulling down the 'Bear' tavern, at the foot of London Bridge, found several pieces of gold and silver coin of Queen Elizabeth, and other monies to a considerable value." *
* Chronicles of London Bridge", p. 545.

FRESH WHARF

FRESH WHARF

A group of clippers and sharp-bowed steamers, all busily taking in cargo or passengers, arrests our attention on the left after passing the bridge: this is at Fresh Wharf. The vessels are unloaded by porters, provided with a number of metal tickets, denoting the quantity each man brings as he delivers his load and his ticket to the warehouseman. By this means fraud is prevented, the work is fairly apportioned to each, and they are paid by reckoning the number of tickets delivered to the superintendent. These vessels present a strong contrast in their more graceful outlines to the bluff-bowed colliers and barges that lie so thickly in the vicinity, and serve to indicate the rapid improvement made in ship-building of late years.

BILLINGSGATE

BILLINGSGATE

A few hundred yards from this wharf, and we arrive at Billingsgate, now a fine and convenient market, but a few years since a collection of dirty hovels and stalls, disgraceful to a civilized community: it was built and enlarged from the designs of the city architect, Mr. J. P. Bunning, between the years 1849 and 1853.
It is a picturesque erection, in the Italian style, of red brick, with stone arcades and dressings. The central bell tower is a striking feature of the design.
The fishing-boats are moored to a floating quay in front of the market during the night, and the business commences every morning at five, by ring of bell. The fish is brought ashore in baskets, and sold by "Dutch auction" to the fishmongers, whose carts crowd Thames Street, and distribute their freight over London.
It has been a market from the earliest times, and the toll on fishing-boats is noted in the laws of AEthelstan, who died A.D. 940. *
* The name is said to have been derived from Belin, King of the Britons 400 years before Christ; but upon no better evidence than that of Geoffrey of Monmouth, which is of not the slightest value;
it more probably obtained a name from the spot being owned by some of the old Saxon tribe of Bellingas, whose patronymic occurs in other localities.
It was first made a "free and open market for all sorts of fish", by an act of William III., bearing date 1699.

NEW COAL EXCHANGE

Opposite the market, in Thames Street, is the New Coal Exchange, a noble building, also erected by Mr. Bunning. The circular hall is decorated with figures of fossil plants found in coal strata, and the whole of the ornament is similarly appropriate; it is surrounded by three tiers of galleries, and lighted by a glass dome.

ROMAN HOUSE

ROMAN HOUSE

In digging for the foundation in the month of January, 1848, the fragments of a Roman House were discovered, about thirteen feet below the present level of Thames Street; it was built upon piles, and provided with drains to carry off the waste water. The portion of this house thus uncovered consisted but of two rooms, the greater part of the building running beneath the adjacent warehouses. The extreme length of the ruins was about fifteen yards.
The walls were composed of the ordinary flat Roman tiles in regular layers, varied occasionally by a course of plain yellow tiles, and were about three feet four inches in thickness. The rooms were on different levels; the square tesserae which floored the lower room (a portion of which is seen on the right of our cut) were formed from fragments of the ordinary tiles used by builders at the period of its erection, and were laid upon a concrete composed of quicklime, sand, and pounded tiles, with a mixture of small stones. The upper floor is composed of concrete only; beneath the floor was a hypocaust for warming the apartment, and open flues were continued therefrom up the walls.
This interesting fragment has been arched over and preserved, and is the only portion of a Roman house existing in London, though traces of many such have, from time to time, been discovered. A descent of several stairs leads to the ruins now preserved, which consist of the principal fragment exhumed, comprising parts of the hypocaust and walls, and a seat formed of Roman tile.
Other portions of the building have not been retained, as they consisted of walls only. The visitor now treads upon the pavement where once the Roman inhabitant walked. The hypocaust, supported by blocks of red square tiles, firmly compacted with mortar, is nearly filled with pure springwater, for which a drain has been provided, so that the same necessity for preventing an overflow is obliged to be adopted now as was adopted in the days of the Caesars.

CUSTOM HOUSE WTSWG

CUSTOM HOUSE

[ 1275: The first known Custom House
1378: Custom House rebuilt 1559: Custom house rebuilt 1666: Custom House destroyed in Great Fire of London
1669- New Custom House by Christopher Wren
1714: Custom House severely damaged by explosion
1717: Rebuilt on Wren's foundations
1814: Destroyed by fire
1817: Custom House by David Laing
1825: Laing's building collapsed
1825: Sir Robert Smirke repaired and changed design of central frontage
1940: East Wing severely damaged in bombing and rebuilt in replica ]

The long facade of the Custom-house next attracts the eye, with its noble esplanade, adjoining Billingsgate Market. It is from the design of Sir Robert Smirke, in 1825, the old Custom-house having been destroyed by fire February 12, 1814. The long room is one of the largest in Europe, being 199 feet by 66, and nearly 40 feet in height.
Here is transacted the principal business of our enormous London trade, and no more striking picture of the vast importance of our city can be given than this always busy scene presents.

TOWER OF LONDON WTSWG

TOWER OF LONDON

The Tower of London is the next great feature on the Thames. The esplanade, now closed to the public, once formed an agreeable promenade.
We see from the water the Traitors' Gate, with its round towers at each angle, and the deep stone stairs that led to the prison from the water. This gate exhibits a specimen of the most ancient part of the fortifications, being surrounded by a covered way, and provided with loopholes, by which archers might defend it from external assailants, or harass them within if they obtained entrance.
Above it rises the Bloody Tower, so named from the traditionary story of its being the scene of the murder of the young princes, sons of Edward IV. It has no doubt been —

With many a foul and midnight murder fed.

Above all rises the square mass of the White Tower, the oldest part of the buildings, and a conspicuous object from many points of the river. It was erected by Gundulph, the clerical architect to the founder, William the Conqueror, and was begun in 1078; the walls are from ten to twelve feet in thickness. It has been occasionally repaired, and the external features somewhat altered by the insertion of windows, and the addition of cupolas in the time of William III.; but it is substantially ancient: the staircases and rooms are all antique.
The council-chamber, and the vaulted rooms on the first floor, are of much interest;

CHAPEL IN THE TOWER

but the great feature of the interior is the small Chapel of St. John, the most perfect piece of Norman architecture the metropolis can show, and which was used for centuries by our ancient kings when the Tower was their chief royal London residence. It is supported by massive round columns, with capitals simply decorated, and has an ambulatory outside them; the end is apsidal, and it is lighted by deeply-recessed, round-headed windows. It was for a long time used as a repository for records, which have now all been removed.
The history of the Tower must be sought in the portly volumes which antiquaries of note have devoted to the important theme. It is not possible for us to descant upon the thick-coming memories which crowd the mind as we contemplate the old building.

There is, however, one curious Story of its use in curbing insurrections, in the olden time, so characteristic of the age, that we give it as narrated in "Hall's Chronicle."
A cross fire of ordnance between the Tower and Southwark would be a startling occurrence at the present day. In the turbulent reign of Henry VI., in the year 1460 -
"on the news of the landing of the Yorkist army, commanded by the Earls of March, Salisbury, and Warwick, from Calais, which was afterwards joined by Lord Cobham and the Archbishop of Canterbury (Bourchier), Lord Scales was dispatched by the king, with the Earl of Kendal and Lord Lovel, and a considerable body of troops, for the protection of London; but the citizens being decidedly in favour of the opposite party, refused their assistance, whereupon Lord Scales entered the Tower with his forces, and omitted no opportunity to revenge the disloyalty of the citizens: but he was shortly afterwards besieged in the Tower by the Earl of Salisbury, Lord Cobham, and Sir John Wenloke; the latter carried on the siege on the eastern side of the fortress, Lord Cobham, with certain of the aldermen of the City, kept the west side, and on the south artillery was planted on the opposite side of the river. By these means the Tower was so vigilantly watched that no person could issue out or enter in, to the great displeasure of the Lord Scales and his com- pany, who daily shot their ordnance, and had likewise great ordnance shot at them, to the hurt and no pleasure of both parties." *
* Brayly's "History of the Tower"

Some of the stone shot fired from the battery in Southwark against the Tower on this occasion were found in the Tower ditch a few years since, and were exhibited by Robert Porrett, Esq., F.S.A., to the Society of Antiquaries in November, 1843. A stone 8lb. shot has recently been found at Mark Brown's Wharf, Southwark, which is immediately opposite to the Tower, and is now being rebuilt by C. Leach, Esq. This was doubtless one of those fired from the Tower against the battery in Southwark.

POOL OF LONDON WTSWG

SHIPS AT TOWER STAIRS

[ Tower Bridge WTSWG was 30 years in the future when Mr & Mrs Hall wrote in 1859 ]

From the Tower Stairs the view, looking either way, is very striking; the river is crowded with shipping and steamers, and from this point begins that succession of vessels which affords the voyager so grand an idea of the vast trade of the British metropolis. There are, perhaps, few sights in the world more striking — certainly none more calculated to make an Englishman proud of his country.
Here are not only the merchantmen of every part of the Queen's dominions, but the ships that bear "to and fro" the wealth of every civilized nation and people. "The Pool of the Thames" — for so is named that portion of our noble river that runs between the Isle of Dogs and the Tower — is truly a grand and glorious sight; the proudest "station" in the world: where gather vessels of all sizes, of every form and character, from every seaport of the globe.
The Surrey side of the river, from London Bridge to Rotherhithe, is now covered with warehouses and buildings: anciently it was open fields and grazing grounds; it is only in comparatively recent time it has been densely populated.
The Church of St. Olave, with its low square steeple, is first noticed after passing London Bridge; the church at the foot of the bridge on the City side is also dedicated to the same saint. *
* St. Olave was the first Christian king of Norway, and was martyred by his rebellious subjects A.D. 1030.
He assisted King Ethelred, his godfather, in driving the Danes from London and Southwark, coming up the Thames with a strong fleet, and planning the destruction of London Bridge, which thus cut off the two bodies of invaders, and made them an easier victory.
The dedication of these two churches, on the scene of his prowess, is generally thought to have originated in gratitude for his timely aid. Tooley Street is a modern corruption of St. Olave's Street.
Near it in olden time stood the mansions of the Earls of Warren and Surrey, of the Prior of Lewes, the Abbots of St. Augustine's, Canterbury, and other important personages.
Then came an open space, still known by its old name, Horslydown, where the parish butts were set up for archery in the days of Henry VIII.; a mill belonging to the Knights of St. John of Jerusalem was close by the river-side, and the large monastery of Bermondsey at about half a mile distant from it.
Towards the middle of the seventeenth century building commenced in this quarter; it has increased, until Rotherhithe has been joined to Southwark by streets.

ROTHERHITHE

ROTHERHITHE CHURCH: TUNNEL PIER

Rotherhithe is a town of very ancient foundation, and some etymologists derive its name from two Saxon words, signifying "the Sailor's Haven."
It was originally part of the royal manor of Bermondsey, and the residence of some of our early kings.
Edward III. here fitted out one of his fleets. It is now chiefly remarkable for the Commercial Docks, which are said to occupy the trenches first cut by Canute in the eleventh century, and which extended to Battersea, thus turning Southwark into a sort of island, as a defence against attacks in that quarter.
The docks are five in number, and comprise about sixty acres of water and forty of land, and they have immense granaries near them.
Close beside Rotherhithe Church is the entrance to the Thames Tunnel, which unites the banks of the river by an underground communication, consisting of a double passage, conjoined by a central arcade lit with gas, with footways on each side for pedestrians, and a carriage-way; but as it would require a very lengthy inclined plane to the mouth of the Tunnel on each side, that part of the scheme has never been carried out: foot passengers descend by a well-staircase.
Each archway is about 20 feet in height; the entire width of the Tunnel is 35 feet, and at high water it is 75 feet below the surface. It was planned by the late Sir Isambard Brunel in 1823; and on the 20th of March, 1843, it was first opened to passengers.
It is kept open day and night, the toll being one penny; and, on some occasions, a kind of fancy fair has been held in it.

ST KATHERINE'S DOCKS

From the Tower to the entry to this Tunnel, at Wapping, the Thames is lined with warehouses, wharves, and docks.
Of the latter, the most important are St. Katherine's Docks, in close contiguity to the Tower. They take their name from the old hospital dedicated to St. Katherine, which once stood on this site, and which was founded by Matilda, the wife of King Stephen, A.D. 1148. When the old building was pulled down in 1827, the hospital and church were rebuilt in the Regent's Park.
The docks were begun in May, 1827, and finished in October of the following year — a gigantic work, completed in an incredibly short time, by the continuous labour of 2500 workmen.
The lock from the Thames has greater depth of water than any other dock-entry; it is 28 feet at some tides, and ships of 700 tons burthen can always enter. The warehouses surrounding it are on a gigantic scale, and are specially secure, owing to the lofty walls surrounding them.
These docks were planned by the great engineer, Telford, and constructed by Hardwick, at a cost of £1,700,000.

LONDON DOCKS

The London Docks adjoin St. Katherine's, and have three entrances from the Thames. They were constructed by John Rennie, and opened in 1805. The larger docks can accommodate more than 300 vessels. There is warehouse room for 220,000 tons of goods, and cellarage for 80,000 pipes of wine. These cellars are one of "the sights" of London, and a "tasting ticket" for wines is a privilege strangers are generally anxious to obtain through merchants who keep stock here. A small dock is exclusively devoted to vessels laden with tobacco, and a very large warehouse is consigned to its exclusive use, with a furnace near, where damaged or forfeited tobacco is destroyed. To a stranger there is no more curious and instructive sight than the London Docks, and nothing can give a better idea of the vast wealth and trade of the British Islands.

Wapping, Shadwell, and Limehouse (and the hamlets of Ratcliffe and Poplar) are the parishes in which these docks are situate. Their churches maybe seen from the river, but they are comparatively modern, and call for no especial remark. The tower of St. Anne's, Limehouse, is most conspicuously seen where the river widens to the well-known "Pool of the Thames" and is crowded with craft of all kinds — a more striking scene than can be elsewhere viewed between London and the Nore. The river here sweeps round "Cuckold's Point", where the gates of the Regent's Canal may be seen; those of the City Canal, which cuts across the Isle of Dogs to save the circuit made by the river opposite Greenwich;

WEST INDIA DOCKS

ENTRANCE TO THE WEST INDIA DOCKS

and the entrance to the West India Docks. These are said to be the largest in the world. They are nearly three times as extensive as the Loudon Docks, and include about 290 acres.
The Import Dock, to the north, can accommodate 250 vessels of 300 tons each; and the southern, or Export Dock, can hold 195.
They were commenced in the year 1800, Jessop being the engineer, and opened two years afterwards.
They occupy the whole length of the back of the Isle of Dogs, from Limehouse to Blackwall; their tall warehouses and tiers of ships rise boldly above its level, and form a striking background as we pass them on the Thames.
The canal which cuts across it is nearly three quarters of a mile long, with lock-gates at each end 45 feet in width; it is now chiefly used as a dock.

ISLE OF DOGS

ISLE OF DOGS

The river bank of the island is generally known as Millwall, a name derived from the embankment, once surmounted by windmills, of which one still remains, and is seen in our engraving.

DEPTFORD

DEPTFORD DOCKYARD

At Deptford, opposite, we arrive at the first town in Kent. Its name has little altered in the course of ages, so that its original meaning, deep ford, may still be traced.
This manor was given by William the Conqueror to one of his followers, Gilbert de Maignent, who erected a castle here. It is chiefly remarkable as the place of residence of Peter the Great, when he lived here to learn the art of ship-building; *
* Unfortunately, this interesting structure has been recently taken down, and no vestige of it now remains. [See Sayes Court, below]
and [remarkable] as containing the Royal Dockyard, established as early as the time of Henry VIII., and continued with improvements to the present day. The whole is immediately under the inspection of the Navy Board: about 1500 labourers are constantly employed here. *
* Deptford Dockyard is famous for its bakehouses and biscuit factory, which are most admirably constructed, and make some of the best bread her Majesty's service is supplied with. It is considered as one of the chief victualing establishments for the navy; but has also some very large slips, where many of our finest vessels have been built. The whole is under the inspection of a captain superintendent.
The whole extent of the yavd includes about thirty-one acres. Many convicts are employed at the works, and the whole presents generally a very busy and well-ordered scene.
Queen Elizabeth [I.] visited the celebrated Captain Drake in his ship at Deptford, after he had completed his famous voyage round the world. She dined with him on board the vessel, and afterwards conferred on him the honour of knighthood, allowing him to assume the figure of a globe in a ship in his coat of arms, in memory of his having been the first circumnavigator of the world. The vessel in which he had performed the feat, and nobly entertained the Sovereign, was, by her Majesty's orders, preserved in the Royal Dockyard; and, when it went to decay, its timbers were formed into various relics. An elbow chair made of this wood is still preserved at Oxford.

DEPTFORD CHURCH

The old church at Deptford is appropriately dedicated to St. Nicholas, the patron of seafaring men. The tower, of flint and stone, is embattled.
In the church is the monument of Captain Edward Fenton, who accompanied Frobisher in his voyages, and was afterwards engaged in the action with the Spanish Armada. He died 1603.
Another monument is to the memory of Peter Pett, master shipwright in the King's Yard here, who died 1652, and who first invented the warship known as a frigate. His family had long been distinguished for superior talent in ship-building, and his father, Phineas Pett, built, in 1637, the Sovereign of the Seas, the largest ship ever built before, and mounted with 160 guns.
The meetings of the corporation of the Trinity House were originally held in Deptford; the hospital for old mariners still adjoins the church. *
* "The society of the Trinity House, founded by Sir Thomas Spert, Comptroller of the Navy to Henry VIII., was first established at this place, and incorporated by the name of 'The Master, Warden, and Assistants of the Guild or Fraternity of the most glorious and undivided Trinity, and of St. Clement, In the parish of Deptford, Stroud, in the county of Kent'.
This company consists of a master, deputy-master, thirty-one elder brethren, and an unlimited number of inferior members, out of whom the elder brethren are elected. Among these are always some of the great officers of state; the remainder are captains either in the royal navy or of merchantmen. This corporation, having for its object the increase and encouragement of navigation, the good government of seamen, and the security of merchantmen on the coasts, is invested with the powers of examining the mathematica[sic] classes in Christ's Hospital; of examining and licensing masters of ships; appointing pilots both for the royal navy and for merchant ships; setthng the rates of pilotage; erecting, ordering, and maintaining lighthouses, buoys, beacons, and other sea-marks for the better security of ships; granting license to seamen to row on the Thames in time of peace, or when past service; licensing aliens to serve on board English ships; hearing and determining complaints of officers and seamen in the merchant service, subject to an appeal to the Admiralty.
The revenue of the company, which arises from tonnage, ballastage, beaconage, &c., and from contingent benefactions, is applied (after defraying the expenses of light-houses, &c.) to the relief of decayed seamen, their widows, and orphans.
The members of this corporation enjoy various privileges and immunities.
The ancient Hall at Deptford, where their meetings were formerly held, was pulled down about the year 1787, and an elegant building erected for that purpose in London, near the Tower.
The arms of this corporation are Argent, a cross Gules between four ships of three masts in full sail, proper." — Lysons.
At Deptford, if we are journeying by land, we have just passed the boundary of the county of Surrey and entered that of Kent, which we do not again leave, inasmuch as it continues to border the right bank of the river all the way to its junction with the sea.
Deptford is made famous by its connection with many great men in naval history;

SAYES' COURT

but it boasts also of the residence of one philosopher.
Sayes' Court (so called from the name of the family who long inhabited it) was once the residence of John Evelyn; and in 1598 he lent it to the Czar Peter the Great, at that time studying the art of ship-building in the dockyards of Deptford. It stood on the site of the old workhouse; it is now entirely gone: but tradition is yet active in the locality, and in the writings of "the lover of trees" may be found much curious matter concerning the Muscovite, who had sadly disturbed the harmony and tried the temper of him who, at all times and in all places, was a worshipper of Nature, — the czar was a "hedge-breaker", who ruined his garden, and who had "a house full of people right nasty"; and it was a joy to the gentle old man when the time of imperial tenancy — and but a short time it was — expired, and he had again his garden, "most boscaresque, being, as it were an exemplar of his book of forest trees". *
* Evelyn laments most pitifully the damage done to his garden, and speaks of it as "my now ruined garden of Sayes' Court, thanks to the Czar of Muscovy"; Peter is traditionally asserted to have delighted in being driven through Evelyn's much-prized and neatly trimmed hedges in a wheelbarrow.

RIVER RAVENSBOURNE

A small river, the Ravensbourne, joins the Thames at Deptford. *
* "The name of this place was anciently written Depeford, signifying the deep ford, where the bridge now is over the Ravensbourne." — Lysons.
Rising out of a pure stream on Keston Heath, it pursues its pleasant course, —

Wanders in Hayes and Bromley, Beckingham vale,
And straggling Lewisham, to where Deptford Bridge
Uprises, in obedience to its flood.

DREADNOUGHT

THE OLD DREADNOUGHT

In the river [Thames] a little below was placed, as a hospital ship for all nations, the Dreadnought, which had been famous in many sea-fights of Nelson's era. It was used for a charitable institution, supported by voluntary contributions, and the old vessel, now broken up, was granted for the purpose to the Seamen's Hospital Society by the Government.

CALEDONIA

Another line-of-battle ship, formerly the Caledonia, has been lately altered at Woolwich, and admirably fitted to receive a larger number of patients.

GREAT EASTERN

Here also is at present moored the great ship-building marvel of the age and the world, — the Leviathan, or the Great Eastern.

GREENWICH HOSPITAL WTSWG

GREENWICH HOSPITAL

We now arrive at Greenwich: that town has been famous since the days of the Saxons, who named it Grenewic, a name it has retained, with very slight alteration, to the present day. Its park is a favourite resort for Londoners; its hospital the pride of England.
We have been voyaging among the ships of all nations, with huge store-houses, quays, and wharves on either side; the river now, however, widens out, and begins to clear somewhat; the steam-boat has a freer pathway, and may proceed with less hazard of running down some barge or row-boat, of which there seems to the inexperienced eye a peril perpetual, all the way from the Tower, through "the Pool", and in the over-crowded highway that leads from London downwards.
A sudden turn brings us within view of Greenwich. Those who approach the hospital by driving through any of the pleasant villages that divide it from London — nominally so, indeed, for the road is now a continuation of houses all the way — will see with exceeding delight the glory ot England, — the pride of every Englishman!
Taken from any point of view it is "a palace" — beautiful in construction, graceful in all its proportions, as grand and imposing a structure as any nation of the modern world can show.
But it is especially striking when seen as we voyage the Thames, either upwards or downwards; and dead must be the heart of him who does not share the sentiment— if he cannot repeat the lines — of the poet: -

Hail! I noblest structure, imaged on the wave!
A nation's grateful tribute to the brave:
Hail! blest retreat from war and shipwreck, hail!

It is not because here many monarchs had their chosen seat, that as a "royal" palace it was famous for centuries — it is not even because it "gave Eliza birth" that we

Kneel and kiss the consecrated earth;

but because here three thousand veterans repose after years of tempest and battle — maimed many of them, aged all of them; they have done their work; they have earned repose as the right of toil, and honour as the meed of victory.
The Old Palace at Greenwich, commenced by Duke Humphrey, enlarged by the fourth Edward, added to by Henry VII., embellished by Henry VIII., by whom it was named Placentia, or "the Manor of Pleasaunce", *
* Henry VIII. made Greenwich, as Lambard says, "a pleasant, perfect, and princely palaice"; keeping his state here "with great noblenesse and open court", "with revels, masques, disguisings, and banquets royal."
and subsequently a favourite residence of Edward VI., Mary, Elizabeth, and the four kings of the Stuarts, and one of the dwellings of the Lord Protector — that is not the palace our brave seamen inhabit as their own "for ever".
The present hospital stands partly on its site, and during the reign of William and Mary it was dedicated to its high and holy purpose — the good and merciful suggestion emanating from the queen.
Although principally the work of the architect Wren, it was added to by successive sovereigns, and finally completed by George II. — large sums having been supplied for its "finishing" out of the forfeited estates of the Earl of Derwentwater (in 1715), during the reign of George I. *
* The hospital was opened for the reception of pensioners in the month of January, 1705.
From these estates, the hospital still derives a revenue, augmented from other sources — a small tax upon all seamen, duties arising from certain lighthouses, market rents in the town, and forfeited and unclaimed prize-money.
The "old sailors" have their library, their reading-room, their picture gallery (the famous Painted Hall, which contains a series of pictured records of glorious sea-fights), their walks in piazzas, under shelter in foul weather, and their park for promenade when the sun is shining; their doctors, their nurses, their spiritual guides, and, above all, their memories of the victories they have aided to win, and the knowledge that duty and gratitude have provided for easing their ailments and comforting their old age.

THE NAVAL SCHOOL GREENWICH

At the entrance to the park, fronting it, and immediately behind the hospital, is the Naval School, where numbers of happy boys may be seen during play-hours. The long colonnade on each side was constructed for their use in wet weather. The whole was built in 1783, from the designs of "Athenian Stuart." The boys are fully educated for sea-service, and are bound to it for seven years on leaving the school; many sailors have been trained here to fight their country's battles, and afterwards repose upon their laurels, in their old age, close to the scene of their earliest education.
The terrible experience of the past few years has taught us to estimate our soldiers almost as highly as they deserve: our "brave fellows" in the Crimea, our wonder-working troops in India, have aroused us to the necessity of a "standing army", as well as of a "floating armament."
The change, certain as unavoidable, that has followed our colonial increase, renders us no longer in fact an island; our head still wears the crown of Neptune, but our body and its members have continental requirements. The "tight little island" is not our boundary. Despite the well-intentioned but feeble remonstrances of the "peace party", and the ultra "moderation" that would govern and protect the people by the people, and make bonfires of gun-stocks, we are conscious that if we are to keep what we have got, we must be ready to fight for it on land as well as on sea.
It is somewhat remarkable that the two palaces of refuge — one for the worn-out soldier, the other for the worn-out sailor — should stand so bravely on the banks of our royal river. There is no need to tell John Bull he ought to keep up his navy, and provide "like a Briton" for his old Jack-tars when their

Last sea-fight is fought,
Their task of glory done.

He is as proud of Greenwich Hospital as he is of his own estate, hereditary or acquired; or of his handsome wife, or half dozen or dozen of fair-haired children, or any particular happiness or glory that belongs exclusively to himself. There is something grand in seeing the way in which a regular Englishman wakes up after his "night's discomfort" in an Antwerp or Rotterdam boat when it comes in sight of Greenwich Hospital; he seems to have an instinctive knowledge of the fact, and you see his broad white forehead, and firm masculine features, at the right moment, as he thrusts himself among a troop of black-browed, pallid men, whiskered and bearded — the "Mussoos" — whose gaze is fixed on the solid, well proportioned, elaborate mass of masonry, with its lawns and its arches, its courts, its magnificent entrance, its comprehensive beauty and dignity, forming such a noble whole. Our genuine John Bull of the middle class does not speak French or German sufficiently well to be mistaken for a "native", but he gives forth the information warmly and gratuitously in a mingling of the three languages; he tells them that no continental king has so fine a palace as that, nor so fine a river to build it by: and he perplexes them by the assurance that, properly speaking, it is not a palace now, but a hospital - a home for the old sailor-men of England— the "Jack-tars" who man "the wooden walls" they hear so much — and know so much — about. There they are for the rest of their days — well taken care of — with goose at Michaelmas, and roast beef and plum-pudding at Christmas: and there isn't a man in England who would not spare sixpence out of his shilling to keep them there — such fine, brave old fellows! And the "Mussoos" wonder at his enthusiasm, and ask a few questions, which are willingly answered, for he loves the theme: he advises them to go and see Greenwich the first thing, for there is no home like it in the world for old sailors— nor any other old sailors that deserve such a home. About this there can be no dispute; and without bating an atom of our love for the sons of the ocean, we may surely hope that we are learning to legislate as well for our soldiers as we have done for our sailors. There is a better feeling also growing up between the two bulwarks of our safety and liberty: scenes of the most tender and affectionate brotherhood have passed between sailors and soldiers during the fearful wars of the last five years, and many a fine sailor now laid by remembers with affection the help rendered him by a soldier during dreary and disastrous sacrifices in the Crimea.

THE STORY OF THE SERGEANT'S GRANDFATHER

A friend of ours, who lives near Greenwich, and is as proud of the "Palace Hospital" as an Englishman ought to be, told us a little incident which it gratifies us to repeat.
It is quite impossible not to observe that old Jack-tars have their favourite "runs" about Greenwich; you meet the same wooden leg at a particular corner, and at the same hour, almost (fair weather or foul) every day in the year, the same old trio "chaffing" and "yarning" on the same bench; the same "lot", with their pipes, of an afternoon in the park; their weather-beaten, broken-up faces, and their broken-up limbs, become your "familiars". They are not cordial at first with strangers, but our friend considers them worth knowing, and whenever he approaches a bench where trios or duos of the old fellows meet, there is immediately a courteous recognition of the "gentleman" who carries a snuff-canister always, and a roll of pigtail sometimes, for their especial comfort. You may coax a soldier with a cigar, but a sailor scorns it, and remains true as the needle to the pole to his "quid".
When the Crimean war was at the hottest, and hands trembled to unclose the lists of killed and wounded, our friend, on his morning walk down to "the boat", which he prefers as a mode of transit to the great Babylon, observed a somewhat stately old sailor walking by the aid of a wooden leg and a stick, sometimes beside the park wall when it was shady, at other times sitting on the grass in the sun. His habits were different from those of his messmates; he had no particular "run", but seemed to study the pleasure and caprice of a small Skye terrier, who was his constant companion. The dog was as shapeless and ragged as even "a Skye" can be; his large, bright, intense eyes glared from beneath his shaggy brows, and his short, stumpy legs were terminated by masses of blackish hair. He was what "the fancy" call "blue", and his broad black nose and sweeping tail constituted him a perfect "beauty." Sometimes he chose to walk by the park wall, and then his master followed; then "Skye" would take to the common, and, without a word, the obedient master would steer after him; then he would converse with other little dogs, and the old sailor would wait until the conversation was over.
He never interfered except when "Skye" desired to attack donkeys or donkey-boys; then his protector would hook him up (he could not weigh more than four pounds) with his stick, tuck him under his arm, and disappear with him altogether. There was something so odd in the old sailor reversing the order of things, and following the dog instead of the dog following him, that our friend desired to make his acquaintance; but the old man evidently chose to keep out of every one's way.
One evening, however, our friend suddenly came upon him at a turn in the park; the dog had taken a fancy to a tuft of fiorn grass, which dogs have the sagacity to know is good for them; and while he was picking off its long narrow leaves, the old man rested against a tree, patiently waiting the little beast's pleasure. Our friend opened the acquaintance by praising "Skye's" beauty;

but instead of the courteous reply he expected, the old tar caught up the dog, and then turning sharply round, surveyed the gentleman from head to foot.
"You cannot suppose", said our kindly friend, "that I would deprive you of your dog?"
In reply to this he laid him gently down.
"No, sir, now I see you clear, I don't think you would; but you, as well as others, often cast an eye at him, and some come and offer me money for him, thinking that such as I would sell love for money! Why, bless your heart, selling that dog would be like selling my own flesh and blood!"
"It certainly is a beautiful little creature."
"Well, so everybody says. I wish it wer'n t, for the dog-stealers are after it, and if I lost it, it would kill me. It seemed to take a deal to kill me, too. I don't think there's six square inches of my body without a scar, and I wish I had a dozen bodies to give to the same service; but though they didn't send me to the locker, if I lost that dog I should never leave my bed again."
He was about to follow the dog, who had finished his frugal repast, but our friend tempted him with a "quid". For once a low whistle intimated that he requested the dog's return, and Skye came, and laid him meekly down at his foot. A pinch of snuff cemented the acquaintance; and though they parted immediately after, at their next meeting he told our friend why he so loved the dog.
His grandson was a soldier in the 50th regiment: he would rather, he confessed, he had been a sailor, but his fancy was for the scarlet instead of the blue. No matter! his heart and his life were his Queen's, and a finer or handsomer lad was not in the regiment. He went out as lance-corporal. Before he went he brought him his little dog; and, though contrary to regulations, they let the old man keep his grandson's dog until his return — only, of course, until his return. No wonder he was so careful of Jamie's little dog.
Here he paused: and then asked our friend if he saw the papers daily.
"Certainly."
The hard cordage of the veteran's face twitched and moved convulsively, and his hand appeared as if knotted to his stick.
"Was there anything about the 50th regiment?"
"Nothing yesterday, but an engagement was expected?"
"Of course, sir, he knows his duty, and will do it, and has as good a chance of his life as another. I used always to spend an hour or two at the 'Anchor,' hearing the news, and the talk that followed; but now I can't bear it! The sight, sir, of a newspaper sets me all of a tremble! Isn't that quare for an old hulk like me, whose masts have gone by the board, and who hasn't a rag of canvas left? But it's true, sir. I steer clear of all my comrades, for it shakes me worse than the wind of a twelve-pounder to hear their talk.

I have been ankle deep — ay, ankle deep in blood, sir, before now, on the deck of a 'seventy-four', and never heeded it — the more death the less care; — and now If I could read the paper myself I should not mind it, I think; but I am no scholar, and the dread of hearing - But I have one comrade who reads the news every day, and we hit on a signal, he comes over there, just at post-meridian, and as long as all's well, why, he steers up and down a bit, and then gets under way; but if there should be anything wrong — if the boy was badly hurt — he'd tie his black neckerchief to his crutch, and put it over his shoulder — a black flag, you know. There! he's heaving in sight! that's my old comrade."
The stick fell to the ground as he pointed him out; he threw back his hat, shaded his eyes from the sun, and, grasping our friend's arm, pointed to where his "comrade" moved slowly on — the black handkerchief floating behind him like a pennon!
What followed must be imagined, not described: it was too true — the brave sailor's grandson was returned amongst the list of "killed" as having "fallen in the trenches".
The old man remained rigid as marble, fixed in a state of coma long after he was laid on his bed, surrounded by his old comrades, and tenderly cared for by the physician. The first symptom he gave of returning consciousness was putting out his hand to feel for the dog. The fond animal was then permitted to follow its own will; it crept up and licked his face: this had the happy effect of causing a heavy burst of tears; and while he wept he pressed "Skye" closer and closer to his bosom.
There was no harm in suggesting that there might be an error; that men were frequently returned dead who had been only badly wounded or missing; that such had been the case even with officers. He did not seem to heed or to hear, but wept on.
In the strength and blessing of his hopeful spirit, our friend went to the Horse Guards, but there they could only refer to the list as it was in the last despatch.
The next was long in coming: but when it did arrive there was more than usual excitement among the Greenwich pensioners; many of "the maimed and the halt" cheered as in the days of their youth; and as to the old bearer of the black flag, he see-sawed into the ward — which our friend's friend had never quitted since his bereavement — with a small snowy window curtain depending from his crutch; and then came a convulsed cry and trembling words —
"He is not dead!"
"Not dead?"
"No; badly wounded — doing well — complimented — coming home!"
And he did come home too, the brave gallant soldier, with three stripes on his arm; and his grandfather — ay, and his little dog — saw him receive his medal from the hand of his own honoured Queen.

GREENWICH OBSERVATORY

The Observatory at Greenwich occupies the site on which formerly stood "a tower", which tower was "sometimes a habitation for the younger branches of the royal family, sometimes the residence of a favourite mistress, sometimes a prison, and sometimes a place of defence."
It was founded by Charles II., for the benefit of his "pilots and sailors", "for the purpose of ascertaining the motions of the moon, and the places of the fixed stars, as a means of discovering that great desideratum, the longitude at sea."

GREENWICH

The town of Greenwich *
* Grenewic, or Grenevic, as this place was called by the Saxons, is literally the green village; meaning, perhaps, the village on the green."— Lysons.
is busy, populous, and prosperous; its church contains many interesting monuments; it is, however, comparatively modern, having been consecrated in 1718, occupying the site of a very venerable edifice, the old Church of St. Alphege. Here, as will be supposed, rest many of our naval heroes. There is one object, fronting the palace on the waterside, that will attract the eye of all passers; it is a monument, erected by puLlic subscription, to the memory of a young and gallant French ofificer. Lieutenant Bellott. who died a volunteer in the service of England, the companion and friend of our Arctic voyagers.
While at Greenwich, we may visit Blackheath, — "so called, as some think, from the appearance of the soil, or, as others suppose, from its bleak situation", —
the picturesque villages of Lewisham and Sydenham,
and the venerable mansion of Eltham, concerning which the history of many periods is full.
Nor may we pass unnoticed an object seen from many parts of the river, and from the adjacent country, as well as from the heights and house-roofs in and about London, that wonder of the modern world, the Crystal Palace.

BLACKWALL Northbank WTSWG, Southbank WTSWG

WHITEBAIT

WHITEBAIT

On the shore opposite to Greenwich, after passing the extremity of the Isle of Dogs, is Blackwall, famous chiefly for its fertility in producing the tiny fish known as whitebait, concerning which a few particulars will not be unwelcome to the reader.
There are few denizens of London unacquainted with this tiny fish *
as it appears daily during the season, dressed, at Blackwall and Greenwich, where alone it is obtained "in perfection"; for unless "cooked" within a very brief space after removal from the water, it undergoes a change which the "nice" palate can at once detect.
* It may be well to note here that our cut represents the "tiny fish" of its full size, the only instance in which that size has been adopted for the piscatory engravings of our volume.
[ the printed illustrated fish is 6.5cm long ]
It would be curious to ascertain how many millions are taken daily during the months of June, July, and August of each year. It is unquestionably a delicacy, and is relished greatly by tens of thousands who can afford to buy luxuries; "a whitebait dinner" being a treat peculiar to the metropolis, and enjoyed accordingly, even by those who believe and maintain that the fish is engendered by London mud, and that, when the Thames is cleansed and purified, the whitebait will vanish altogether from the river.
An idea prevails that it is the young of some larger fish. Yarrell, whose authority on such matters is universally accepted, says "it is a distinct species", and in its habits differs materially from all other British species of Clupea (Clupidioe, the family of the herrings) that visit our shores or our rivers. From the beginning of April to the end of September they are caught in abundance; in April, they are small, "apparently but just changed from the albuminous state of very young fry; in Septemb