to the south side, extends northward to Gloucester Gate, a distance of almost threequarters of a mile. The west side, forming an oblique angle with the south side, extends in a direction west of north to Hanover Gate, a distance of half a mile. The northern terminations of the east and west sides are connected by an irregular curve nearly coinciding with the sweep of the Regent's Canal, which passes along and within the northern boundary of the park. A sheet of water extends from Hanover Gate in a south-east direction, parallel to the west side of the park, and, curving round at a south-west angle, continues in a direction parallel to the south side to about the middle of it. Opposite the middle of the west side, an arm of this sheet of water extends at right angles to the very centre of the park. The bottom of the valley, through which Tyburn rivulet flowed in days of old, stretches from its termination up to Primrose Hill, which is nearly due north of it. Nearly two-thirds of the park, forming an oblong parallelogram, slope down on the eastern side of the valley to the former channel of the stream, and the north-east and south arms of the artificial lake which is formed by its collected waters, and which resemble, to use a simile more accurate than dignified, the arrangement of the three legs on an Isle-ofMan halfpenny. Within the houses of the crescent formed by its north-east and south arms is the Ring, the interior of which is occupied by the Garden of the Botanical Society. On the eastern slope, at the north end of the park, is the Garden of the Zoological Society. Of these gardens we shall have to speak in our next paper. On the east side of the park, a little south of Gloucester Gate, are the enclosed villa and grounds of the late Sir Herbert Taylor; on the west side, a little north of Hanover Gate, those of the Marquis of Hertford. Along the east, south, and west sides of the park are continuous ranges of buildings, the architecture of which is in some cases sufficiently florid, in others more than sufficiently grotesque. The open north side allows the eye to range over the beautiful uplands, Primrose Hill, Hampstead, Highgate, and the range extending westward in the direction of Harrow.

The history of the park, as a park, is a brief one. An anonymous writer speaks of it, in 1812, as "already one of the greatest, if not absolutely one of the most fashionable, Sunday promenades about town;" adding, however, that it "does not appear to be in a progress likely to promise a speedy completion." It is now perhaps as far advanced towards completion as human aid can bring it; time and the vegetative power of nature alone can give those dimensions to its trees that will reveal, to its full extent, the taste with which the grounds are laid out. Even in their immature state, however, the grounds have much of beauty in them, and the view to the north is an advantage possessed by none of the other parks. Primrose Hill is now connected with the Regent's Park, by bridges which cross the canal, and by gates leading into the road which runs between. A ground for gymnastic exercises has been set apart on the level beneath the hill.

As a promenade, the Regent's Park seems quite as much in vogue as either of the other two; as a drive, Hyde Park retains its uncontested supremacy. The Zoological Gardens are a source of interest not possessed by the other parks, and the Colosseum is a rare attraction to sight-seers.

VICTORIA PARK.

In 1841 the Government sold York House, on the verge of St. James's Park, to the Duke of Sutherland, for 72,000l. The purchase-money has in great part been appropriated to the formation of a park for the people in the north-east of London"Common pleasures,

To walk abroad, and recreate themselves."

If the dingy, unwholesome character of the neighbourhood through which lie the approaches to Victoria Park are unsuggestive of the existence of such a place, they at least suggest very forcibly its necessity. And as we do get near, one fancies one can already see traces of its purifying influence. The houses begin to look a little neater and fresher, and new ones are starting up, which are at all events better than the old ones that blacken the once fair face of Bethnal Green. The chief entrance is at the corner of an open grassy space, known as Bonner's Field, and where till recently stood an old house, which was once the residence of the heretic-burning bishop. Close by where the bishop doubtless laboured in thought how to devise fresh schemes to harass and torture those who happened to differ from him in opinion, we find the house of the superintendent of the park-a courteous and intelligent man, whose sole occupation, on the contrary, is to see how he can add to the comforts and enjoyments of all about him by perpetually improving the grounds under his care; and it is no very hazardous assertion to say, that in doing so he troubles himself very little with the opinions of those who benefit by his labours. His house is attached to the entrance-gateway, and forms, altogether, a pretty, picturesque, but not very solid-looking structure, where Tudor and modern architecture mix together in a manner pleasing enough, if not very artistical. Crowning the bridge over the canal, just within the gates, we see the pagoda, at present the only other ornamental building of any size erected in the park. This stands on an island in a piece of ornamental water, which is as yet unfinished, and therefore scarcely amenable to criticism. A second piece of ornamental water really deserves its name, and will be very charming when the trees and shrubs within and around it have grown up. Here the artisans of Spitalfields and adjoining parts take their morning bath. And how truly they enjoy it may be judged from the numbers who come hither in a summer morning, amounting to four thousand at a time. Another pleasant reminiscence connected with this water is the fact that it is supplied gratuitously and in a very liberal manner by the East London Water Works Company. During bathing hours there is a constant change of the water going on. Close by is the gymnasium, which is also largely frequented, and where the artisans acquit themselves in a really superior manner. Two extensive cricket clubs are also in operation. Then there are archery games, foot-ball games, &c., &c. It is a most cheering fact, and one that appears to be more than ordinarily belonging to our time, that the people do now respond cordially to all enlightened efforts made for the amelioration of their condition. Here, at Victoria Park, behold that fact illustrated by the presence of 30,000 visitors in a single summer's day. Another interesting period is the children's day, that is Wednesday afternoon, when they have their half-holiday from school.

The park comprises above three hundred acres, and is therefore large enough. At present it exhibits a bare and in cold days a bleak aspect, from the paucity of trees and foliage. The shrubs that have been planted do not in some parts seem to be at all settled in their new habitation, and the late winter has made serious havoc upon them. The smoke of London threatens to be very injurious to the pine, many of which have been planted. However, all sorts of ornamental trees are planted or to be planted, and if some will not thrive others will, and so in time Victoria Park will become woody, and luxuriant, and beautiful. Beauty will not be thrown away here. Perhaps there is nowhere a population more calculated to enjoy plants and flowers than the weavers of Bethnal Green. All sorts of gentle recreations find favour in their eyes. At dahlia and carnation shows they are great; pigeon and canary fanciers congregate thickly among them. They are great entomologists. The country is for them "a joy for ever."

The entire cost of the Victoria Park has amounted to a little more than 50,0007.; the annual expense is about 20007.

RICHMOND PARK; AND BUSHY PARK.

Richmond has attained an enviable celebrity. Universally it is recognized as the most beautiful of English villages. The record of its loveliness is inscribed indelibly on some of the best pages of our literature. Men of all countries, of all ages, and of every rank, are attracted to it, and though they come with minds predisposed to believe that its beauty must have been overrated, that much of its charm must be due to the poetic haze which rests upon it, they are pleasantly undeceived. The exceeding gracefulness of its matchless view would have extorted admiration, though the lyre had never sounded its praise, nor the pencil essayed to represent its glory :

"Cold must he be who ever gazed
Impassive on its beauty."

But the associations, that are aroused, do very much heighten the delight with which it is contemplated. Scarcely more do the manifold beauties of that “glorious prospect"-the broad sweep of the Thames, here truly the silver Thames-the vast "sea of verdure," as Scott well calls it—the shifting colours of the landscape, which borrows almost as much of its hue as of its light and shadow from the varying skythe aërial tints of the distant hills: scarcely more exquisite is the pleasure which these and a thousand other beauties excite, than that which arises from the associations that crowd upon the memory as the eye rests in succession upon objects and places dignified by their connection with eminent names, the distant towers of Windsorthe long avenues that indicate while they conceal the proud palace of the "kingcardinal"-and the houses rendered classic, as the abodes of men renowned in the literature of our country. And not least is the pleasure excited by the recollection of those who have imparted a new lustre to this scene in many a bright leaf of English poetry, and on many a glowing canvas. Nor does Richmond itself lack objects of interest, to which are attached associations that add to the loveliness of the place. Such are the remains, slight but valuable, of the royal palace wherein many of our monarchs have dwelt, and some of the greatest of them have died,-the Green, the theatre of brilliant tournaments at which kings were spectators and sometimes combatants the dwellings of poets and painters-and the church, under whose shadow repose many whose names will not soon die.

The most usual entrance to the Park is by Richmond Terrace, where suddenly the long anticipated prospect bursts upon the view. However the imagination may have been raised, the view will fully satisfy it, that is, supposing that the visitor has not been led to expect the sterner or wilder features of nature. It is a purely beautiful landscape that is spread before us, holding to the rugged grandeur of other famous scenes the same relation as the soft grace of feminine loveliness does to the severer character of manly strength. But of all that belongs to the beautiful in scenery nothing is wanting. Wood and water, softly-swelling hills and hazy distance, with village spires and lordly halls, are blended in beautiful harmony. From the gentle slope of the hill a vast expanse of country stretches far away till the distance is closed by the hills of Buckinghamshire on the north-west, and the Surrey downs on the south-east; and all this intermediate space is one wide valley of the most luxuriant fertility, but appearing to the eye a succession of densely-wooded tracts, broken and

diversified by a few undulations of barer uplands, and here and there a line of light vapoury smoke, with a tower or spire, marking the site of a goodly town or humble village. In the midst the broad placid river, studded with islets, and its surface alive with flocks of swans, and innumerable pleasure-skiffs, winds gracefully away till lost among the foliage, only to be occasionally tracked afterwards by a glittering thread of silver, seen, as the sun glances suddenly upon it, between the dark trunks of the trees; and something of majesty is added to the exceeding loveliness by Windsor's royal towers, which loom out so finely on the distant horizon. Nothing, however, but poetry can properly describe the surpassing beauty of the prospect, and the poetry that does well describe it-that of Thomson-will at once recur to every one who ascends

"thy hill, delightful Sheen."

From the terrace, a few steps brings us to the gates of Richmond Park; close to which stands the Star and Garter, of which we may say, as Scott said of the Black Bear at Cumnor, 66 so great is its fame, that, to have been in Richmond without weting a cup at it, would be to avouch oneself utterly indifferent to reputation as a traveller." Richmond Park was enclosed by Charles I., and was originally called the Great or New Park, to distinguish it from the Old or Lower Park, near the palace. The formation of the park caused a considerable ferment at the time; and the particulars were thought of sufficient importance to be related at length in Clarendon's "History of the Great Rebellion.' From his account it appears that Charles, being excessively affected to hunting and the sports of the field, had a strong desire to make a great park for red as well as for fallow deer between his palaces of Richmond and Hampton Court. He had large wastes of his own which he wished to enclose, but it was also necessary to obtain some gentlemen's houses, and farms, and some commons or waste lands belonging to the several parishes within the limits of his intended park. The king was willing to purchase these properties for larger sums than their marketable value, and most of the owners readily consented to dispose of them, but others steadfastly refused; and when the king proceeded to carry round the boundary wall, a fierce clamour arose; "and it was too near London not to be the common discourse there." Lord Cottington, the Chancellor of the Exchequer, Laud, Bishop of London, who was then Lord Treasurer, and others of the king's councillors, strove to induce him to abandon his design; but he refused; and the park was completed, and the Earl of Portland appointed ranger in 1637. In 1649 the park was presented by the parliament to the corporation of the city of London, to be preserved as a park, and so to remain as an ornament to the city, and a mark of the parliament's great favour to the same. At the Restoration it was immediately transferred to Charles II.; the corporation at the same time assuring him that they had kept it with no other purpose than to preserve it for his use. In the reign of George II., while the Princess Amelia was ranger, the park again became the cause of contention between the inhabitants of its vicinity and the sovereign. It was proposed to shut up the park, across which there had hitherto been free way allowed in various directions. The people of Richmond and the neighbouring parishes were much excited by the proceeding, and in one or two places made breaches in the wall; but the ranger persisted, until a brewer of Richmond, named John Lewis, had the courage to bring the matter to an issue by an action at law. The cause came on for trial at Kingston, in April, 1758, Sir Michell Foster presiding as judge. A verdict was returned for the prosecutor; thereby establishing a right of footway; and ladder-gates were in consequence affixed at the entrances. Sub

sequent suits were instituted to obtain a coach and a bridle-way, but they failed: both have, however, been recently conceded, and now every proper facility is afforded to the public. Lewis, the gallant opponent of the encroachment, became, in after life, reduced in circumstances; when the inhabitants of Richmond acknowledged the obligation by settling upon him an annuity, which he enjoyed till his death in

1792.

Richmond Park is spacious, being eight miles in circumference, and containing 2253 acres; the surface is broken into wide glades and gentle undulations; it is well stocked with timber-trees, chiefly oaks and elms, many of which are of large size; there are also several considerable sheets of water; and great numbers of red and fallow deer are kept in it. As may be supposed, therefore, it affords many very beautiful "bits" of park scenery. Sometimes we come upon a quiet spot where a herd of deer are browsing among the tall ferns-and magnificent trees on every side close in the view; or a bolder scene opens, where one or two veteran oaks that have withstood many a storm, though not without loss of some goodly limbs, stand as sentinels on a rough bank which overlooks a wide expanse or deep dell; or, again, a far-reaching extension of open glades leads the eye to some lovely glimpses of distant country, to which the tall trunks on either side, and the overhanging branches, serve as a frame. Besides the views that are obtained in the more secluded parts of the park, there are many of great beauty, that fall within the reach of every visitor. On entering the park-gates, the terraces on the right afford a continuation, with some changes-variations, as it were, on a favourite air-of the noble prospects of the hill. These are uncommonly beautiful as the sun is setting. If the path that leads to Roehampton Gate be taken, the circle, as described in Thomson's lines, may be completed. "Lofty Harrow," and the "sister hills" of Highgate and Hampstead, are seen to great advantage, and some fine glimpses are ever and anon caught of "huge Auguste "—and all appears the more beautiful because only seen transiently between masses of rich foliage, or above the dips of hills. Sometimes, too, over London may be observed the most exquisite aërial effects—such as a painter would glory to be able to fix on his canvas.

Sir Robert Walpole and Lord Sidmouth lived in the Great Lodge across the Park. This smaller Lodge, on the brow of the hill, is the retreat of Lord John Russell. What a delicious nook, nibbled out of the Park, is that wooded eminence! Mighty oaks standing upon shaven lawns, and looking down complacently upon lilacs and laurels! Pass we Lord John Russell's Goshen, and look down from the hill upon Sudbrook. There dwell the water-drinkers. We could almost venture to encounter the perils of hydropathy, for the morning walk up this charming ascent into Richmond Park, which the drenched and swilling martyrs daily earn. Here each may stretch “his listless length at noontide," far away from the loungers on the Hill, its barrel-organs, its white mice, and guinea-pigs. In five minutes they may be deep in the shade of old avenues, worn by time and accident into irregularity; or plunge into a glen wild with brambles and fern, with little sunny glades of the softest green, where a solitary deer sometimes steals away from the distant herd, panting "for the water-brooks" which the hydropathists enjoy to repletion. We now, from these quiet thickets, look no longer on nature in her full dress. That rough barren plain is Ham Common. Looking from Richmond Hill, who would think that there was an unfertile spot in all that wide expanse? And yet is Surrey one of the least densely-peopled of our counties, with longer ranges of uncultivated land than most other districts. Here is a mound-perhaps an artificial elevation-where fair ladies sat with cross-bow in hand, and aimed at the hart as he galloped noiselessly by.