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with all surrounding objects, and a splendid ornament to the building that encloses them.

The chantry of Wykeham is simple and elegant, and its high preservation does honour to his children, here and at New College. It is superior, I think, to all, in the delicacy of its proportions, the simplicity of its ornaments, and the general lightness of its appearance. The chantry of Fox is, in taste, its direct opposite. It is oppressed with ornament, and frittered away into minute parts, till the general design is indistinguishable. It is an enigma-a sort of mysterious confusion of columns, arches, pedestals, niches, groining, and sculpture, that, till the eye is familiar with, the mind cannot reduce to order. That great man seems to have had the taste of a carver, or an upholsterer, rather than a sculptor or an architect. Yet the chantry of Fox is not without beauty; there is something exquisite in the finishing of the ornaments, and the relative proportion of such a multitude of parts, when we can bring ourselves to the consideration of these things.

Waynflete and Beaufort's chantries stand immediately opposite, in equal and admirable condition, and have, both from size and situation, a vague general resemblance, although broad distinctions are visible to an accustomed eye. The cardinal's tomb is generally admitted the more elegant; but are not the columns that support the canopy too light for the incumbent weight? Do they not want something of proportionate richness? This judgment may seem hypercritical, for without the objection the work would be perfect; but it originates in a comparison with Waynflete's, which in this particular I prefer. The gorgeous canopies, and pendants, the rich fan-work, and the clustering pinnacles above, are beyond all description, and beyond the graver itself. There is a fine figure of the Cardinal-as, I omitted to observe, there is of Wykeham-in all the splendid trappings of his high office, beneath this canopy. The parts of the Cathedral itself that deserve special attention are without number, and it is a fine illustration of the rise and progress of Gothic architecture, from the dignified simplicity of the Anglo-Norman, to the delicacy and refinement of the age of Henry VII.

TO A JASMINE FALLEN FROM LELIA'S BOSOM.

FAIR flowret! ere thy evanescent dream

On Lelia's bosom fled, I saw thee shine
With virgin freshness there, and stainless seem

As Purity within her holiest shrine.

But now thou'st lost her ever-varying heart,
Her lover's fate was thine, and thou wast riven
From thence to seem-pale, drooping as thou art―
Like some fallen spirit weeping its lost Heaven.
Sweet flower! thy perfume caused thee joy and death,
For woman's bosom can delight and slay;
And thou wast chosen for thy perfum'd breath,
To feel its bliss, and sigh thy life away.
Yet, withering flower! thy blight was ecstasy,
And I would welcome death to only die like thee!

C. L

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MONDAY, Sept. 1. 9 A. M.-Took down from back attic my legacy gun, so called because it became mine under the will of Sir Diggory Drysalt, my maternal uncle. Used by him, with tremendous effect, when a grenadier in Colonel Birch's first Loyal London, in the battles of Shad Thames and Primrose-hill. Thought it prudent to ascertain the death of this Gunpowder Percy drew out the ramrod and thrust it down the barrel; felt a soft substance at bottom, and trembled ; screwed up my courage and the soft substance, and found the latter to be a doll's pincushion, probably pushed in by little Sally. Borrowed Bob's duster and Molly's scowering-paper, and rubbed off the rust. Looked about for a game-bag, and luckily alighted upon my uncle's havresack, in which I moreover found seventeen old cartridges. Put on my shooting-dress, viz.-my white hat, my stone-blue coat and black velvet collar, my white Marcella waistcoat, my India dimity under ditto, my nankeen trowsers, and my ditto gaiters, not forgetting my military boots and brass spurs. Jammed down ramrod till it rang again, to the great terror of Mrs. Swandown, of whom I took leave, singing— "Adieu, adieu, my only life,

My honour calls me from thee."

Set off, in high spirits, to meet Jack Juniper, Kit Cursitor, and Tom Tiffany, by appointment, at half-past nine, at the Cumberland Arms, opposite St. Luke's Hospital, in the City Road. Saw a poll-parrot at a window in Carpenter's Buildings: longed for a shot, but housemaid too sharp. Terrier puppy barked at a bedstead in Broker's Row: looked round, and found that she had made a point at a bulfinchcocked and levelled, but broker kept walking to and fro. Arrived at place of appointment without seeing any more game. Found Jack Juniper and Kit Cursitor discussing a plate of biscuits and a couple of glasses of brandy and water. Waited twenty minutes for Tom Tiffany; Jack in the mean while, to pass the time, said he would play Water parted" with his finger upon the rim of the rummer: could not catch the tune, probably because it was all in one note. Examined our pieces Kit's wanted a flint, and Jack's lock too rusty to go, though he pulled till he nearly sprained his fore-finger. Borrowed some oil, with

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three wasps in it, of the barmaid, and got a flint from a bald pavier in the road. Rang the bell to pay, when who should turn up but Tom Tiffany, in high dudgeon: back up, like the half-moon at Lower Holloway. Told us his brother Sam had walked off with the family fowling-piece across Shoulder of Mutton Fields, to slaughter snipes in Hackney brook. Asked landlord if he could lend us a gun, but he had nothing but a horse-pistol. Hobson's choice, so Tom had nothing to do but to take it. Too short to bring down pheasants, but quite long enough to do for the little birds.

10 A. M.-Marched up the City Road singing

แ By dawn to the downs we repair."

Looked sharp to the right and left, and saw a hen and two chickens pecking under a wheelbarrow on the road-side. Jack Juniper seized the three dogs by the collar that they might not run in and frighten the game. Kit and Tom stole upon tip-toe to within six yards of the barrow, when the Tally-ho Paddington coach sent hen and chickens scampering into a front garden in Pleasant Row. Swore that Tally-ho should never see another eighteen-pence of my money. Halted to rest ourselves upon the bridge on the Regent's Canal. Looked over the parapet and pointed our guns downward to nab the sea-gulls as they came through the arch. Saw something red steal out: took it for a pheasant, and cocked: proved to be a bargeman's cap: grounded arms again, and saw him steer his vessel into a sort of water pound. Asked baker's boy about it: boy said it was in the lock, and that the bank on the otherside was the key. Threatened to shoot him if he gave me any more of his sauce. Kept an eye on barge, and saw it begin to sink. Wondered at the coolness of the Father Red-cap, who walked from stem to stern, smoking his pipe as if nothing was the matter. Kit Cursitor said they had scuttled it on purpose to chouse the underwriters, and that he had known the captain of a Dutch schooner hanged for similar practices. Kit talked of advising the underwriters to defend the action, and pay the premium into court: when lo and behold the barge took a lower level and slid off through the farther water-gate. Strolled on to Sadler's Wells, and halted at a lamp post to read playbills. Betted Jack Juniper a shilling that he would not hit the words "Water fiend" at ten yards off:-fired, and lodged too shots in the 'W. Stood for ten minutes looking into the New River, and counting the straws that floated down it, with now and then a child's paperboat by way of a change. Tom Tiffany chucked a boy's hoop-stick into the stream-black poodle jumped in after it, and brought it out, wagging his tale-shook his coat and splashed my nankeens :-thought of calling Tom to account for it, but did not like the looks of his horse pistol.

11 A. M.-Pushed our guns under an old woman's wheelbarrow, and started a Tom cat-game made for Pentonville, we following-fired my piece, and brought him down in the chapel-yard-looked about for churchwarden to borrow keys-luckily, Deputy Dewlap's funeral just then entered at South gate: followed in the wake of mourners, picked up cat and popped him into Cursitor's blue bag. Trotted on to Islington, swerved to the right, and entered fields at the back of Canonbury-house: saw five strange-looking birds trying to hide themselves in a glass case. All four fired: Tom's pistol flashed in the pan, but the guns went off: down went the birds, and up ran a tall fellow in a blue apron, swearing that we should pay for shooting his stuffed birds. Found to our surprise that they were dead before we came near them. Man in blue apron, asked for our license, but Lawyer Kit gave it as his opinion that none was legally requisite to shoot a dead bird. Subscribed for a purse of nine and sixpence, to quiet the proprietor, and resolved to be more cautious in future.

12 M.-Strolled up Highbury-place, wondering at the beauty of the

gentlemen's seats on our right, which lay so thick that you could not push a brick between: charmingly contiguous to the city: nothing wanting but a speaking-trumpet to ask the news at Batson's. Heard a rumbling in our rear: looked round, and beheld the Highbury coach, which stopped along side of us, and let loose a woman from the inside and a boy from the box. Woman with luggage enough to stock the Barnet van. Saw her give a canary-bird in charge to the housemaid: loitered about premises, and in about two minutes saw the cage stowed on the dresser of the kitchen: peeped down area: half-cocked uncle's legacy, but could not get rid of confounded cook chopping parsley in the window. Scrambled over five-barred gate to join my companions, who had made a short cut for Holloway: obstructed by a dry ditch; took a run to leap it; forgot my spurs, which caught in each other and sent me on my hands and knees on the opposite side of the gap. Piece went off in my fall, and killed a duck. Crammed the defunct into my havresack, and came up with my cronies close to the turnpike. They took the pathway, but I followed the Bedford coach through the gate. Stopped by gate-keeper, who demanded three half-pence: would not pay, and referred it to Lawyer Kit, who gave it in favor of gatekeeper, pointing to the board upon which rate of tolls was printed, viz. "For every horse, mule, or ass, three half-pence." Tossed down the coppers and walked on. Halted at corner of Duval's Lane: drove of geese: called a counsel of war: Jack Juniper offered the driver two shillings to let him fire among the flock: bargain made: Jack let fly, and missed: geese set up a general hiss, and Kit advised us to discontinue the action.

1 P. M.-Turned down a green lane on our left, thinking that the game on the high road might be too wild. Drove a gander before us, holding out our guns in a slanting direction, while Tom Tiffany with his horse pistol kept the dogs at bay. Looked over our shoulders, and, when we found ourselves out of view from the road, fired a volley. All missed: gander screamed, and was making past us back to the highway, when, with admirable presence of mind, I knocked him on the head with the butt end of my piece. Gave him a thump each to secure ourselves of his demise, and crammed him into Kit's blue bag, which he filled choke full, like a bill in Chancery.

2 P. M.-Steered on towards Pancras, wondering at the romantic beauties that met us at every turning: caught a peep at the Small-pox Hospital, and longed for a pop at a patient. Put up a couple of gipsies and a donkey: recovered arms just in time: had my fortune told, viz. that I should stand upon some boards that would slip from under me: walked back to Kit for a solution: could make neither head nor tail of it: resolved to ask the exciseman at the club: determined to make a knot in my handkerchief as a memorandum, and found gipsies had eased me of my yellow Barcelona. Walked back to shoot them for the larceny, but found, as Kit expressed it, the writ returned non est inventus. Arrived at Holywell Mount: read printed notice, "It is lawful to shoot rubbish here:" took the hint, fired, and blew Jerry Bentham off a book-stall.

3 P. M.-Dinner at the Adam and Eve, Camden Town. Pigeonpie at top, and lamb-chops at bottom. Tom Tiffany in the chair,

and I deputy. Asked Tom for a piece of the pie: carving-knife slipped, and in went his fist through the top crust, penetrated the pigeon, and stuck in the beefsteak sod at the base. "Now your hand's in,” said Jack Juniper, "I'll thank you for some of that pie." Tom wiped the gravy from his wristband, and did not seem to relish the joke, but all the rest of us laughed ready to kill ourselves. Asked the waiter if he had any ginger beer: answered "Yes, Sir," and rushed out, returning instantly with a stone bottle. Began to loosen wire: bottle hissed and spit like a roasting apple: all looked on in awful silence: at length out bounced the cork and hit Tom Tiffany on the bridge of his nose: Tom cocked his pistol to return his adversary's fire: but the other bawling "Coming, Sir," bolted through the door like lightning: poured out foaming liquor in a glass, meaning to take a delicious draught, and found that I had swallowed a concern in which vinegar, brickdust, and soapsuds, were the working partners.

4 P. M.-Prowled round the brick-fields near the Newington-road, to start birds that love a warm climate. Saw a hopping raven with its left wing clipped: went up within a yard of it and brought it down: clapped the black game into my havresack, and told a milk-maid that the brood came over from Norway every autumn. Eyed Deputy Firkin's apple-tree that hung over the New River: felt very desirous of bringing down a leash of pippins, but saw a little man in black on the watch. Jack Juniper shut both his eyes and pulled his trigger: down dropt the man: all took to our heels, with our heads full of the new drop. At length says Lawyer Kit, "Let's go back and get him an apothecary; if he dies after that, it will be only felo de se." Back we stole, in sad tribulation, and found to our great relief that Jack had shot a scarecrow. Tom changed trowsers with the deceased, his own being a little the worse for wear: Canonbury clock began to toll, and we made the best of our way towards the Shepherd and Shepherdess, firing in the air to take the chance of whatever might be flying that way. Saw a fine turkey under a wicker enclosure: rammed down cartridge presented and pulled trigger: no effects: remembered Gargle's prescription as to pills

"If one won't do,

Why, then, take two:"

and rammed down another cartridge; still no effects: ditto with four more at last bang off went my musquet: thought there was an end of the world: fell senseless upon my back, and when I opened my eyes found Tom Turpentine smacking my palms with an old shoe, taken from an adjoining dust heap, and Jack Juniper pouring water into my mouth taken from an adjoining ditch.

5 P. M.-Felt much soreness about my left shoulder, and determined to poach no more upon Finsbury Manor. Climbed up an Islington coach: took a seat upon the box, and put my fire-arms between my legs and my bag in the boot. Descended at the back of the 'Change, crossed into Lombard-street, and, having arrived safe and sound in Bush-lane, gave Molly the game to dress for supper, and walked upstairs to drink a comfortable dish of tea with Mrs. Swandown.

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