explores their flittering masses with admiration and delight. The breaches of the last siege are unrepaired; the courtyard is choked up and overgrown with luxuriant weeds; the walls become dank and discoloured with rank vegetation; the winds and rains of heaven displace and disintegrate their massive stones; the tempest tears them as in a terrific siege; or the slow and silent devastations of nature go on beneath ivy and mossy crusts obscuring the proud work of man's hand, and defacing its glories in desert waste. Such effects the reader may witness in a few of the illustrations of the present volume: the long tale of conquest upon conquest is told from the Norman sway to the Revolution, in the history of Pontefract Castle (page 50); the picturesqueness of decay in the towers of Wilton (page 306); and the stratagems of war in the mounds and lines of Dunheved.

THE LATE MR. COLTON.

(From a Correspondent.)

The recent death of this eccentric man of letters may perhaps render the following recollections generally interesting.

I remember once spending an afternoon with him at Mr. Tucker's, quill merchant, Middleton-street, Clerkenwell; when I was delighted with the spontaneous flow of his Latin, his quotations from the ancient and modern poets, and indeed his masterly and eloquent developement of every subject that his acute intellect chose to dilate upon; I was, however, sorry to perceive there was occasionally a want of "holding in" in his conversation upon points which a due self-respect for those acquirements which he possessed, equal to any individual living, should have taught him to have observed. To describe this deficiency as laconically as possible, Mr. Colton wanted that mental firmness which the unfortunate Burns has aptly enough termed "Self-control." I once saw him, in the company of the above mentioned Mr. Tucker, seat himself, at Edmonton Fair, in one of those vulgar vehicles called swings: he was highly delighted with the novelty of the exercise, which he enjoyed amidst the rude stare and boisterous grins of the motley group around him; "this is life," said he, upon getting out of the swing, "what shall we see next?" In his poem of Hypocrisy, he has beautifully eulogized General Graham, who showed his sense of this intellectual tribute by sending the author a complimentary piece of plate. Like Goldsmith, Mr. Colton entertained an unfortunate predilection for gaming, and although he often proved a better match for his wily antagonists than "the mild bard of Auburn" was to his, still he was subject to the fluctuations of the Goddess of Chance, and the quiet charms of literature which once had a beautiful hold upon his mind, were succeeded by the demons of worldly anxiety, which heavy losses, among professed gamesters as acute as himself, would occasionally subject him to. ENORT.

NAPOLEON AT ST. HELENA.

(To the Editor.)

Perhaps the following traits of the national fidelity of the French people may not be unacceptable to some of your readers. During my stay at St. Helena, about six months ago, a French transport arrived with an old regiment of French soldiers, who had fought under Napoleon, and who had been from France ever since the exile of the emperor. When they came on shore, they marched in regularity and silence to the tomb, before which they knelt (many weeping) and uttered prayers for their fallen emperor: this done, they marched back to the town with the same regularity and silence, and returned to their ship much affected.

The account of Captain Mundy's visit to Longwood is very correct.⁴ The billiard table which he mentions is still there, and gentlemen visiting Longwood, generally play there; the trees which he so justly calls "scrubby" are "gum-wood" trees, from which an intoxicating liquor (called by the natives "Toddy,") is extracted. The garden has lately been much improved, as several gentlemen of the island have taken up their residence at the New House. In the vicinity of Longwood are many beautiful and romantic scenes. About a mile from thence is Halley's Mount, from which that great astronomer observed the transit of Venus. It is but too true that Napoleon's parlour is now occupied by a threshing machine. H.M.B.

SCRIPTURAL HERALDRY.

(To the Editor.)

At Sturminster Newton, in Dorsetshire, there is an Infant and Sunday School, founded by the Rev. T.L. Fox. A handsome bronzed gateway forms the entrance, which is surmounted by an escutcheon, containing what may be termed the Christian's armorial bearings, (see Ephesians vi. 14, &c.) The shield itself denotes "the shield of faith;" on the four divisions are emblazoned "the girdle of truth;" "the breast-plate of righteousness;" "feet, shod with the gospel of peace," and "the sword of the spirit;" the crest is "the helmet of salvation," over which is a crown of glory; the motto "THE FOUNDATION OF GOD STANDETH SURE." The benevolence of the reverend founder of this establishment should not pass unnoticed. Pope has described his character to a tittle, in his Man of Ross—

Not only has he rebuilt the church in handsome style—presented it with a noble organ, &c., and founded the above school, but the whole business of his life appears to be to provide by his munificence for the present comfort, and by his pastoral labours, for the future happiness, of all around him.

A humble slab of white marble over the south door of the church, bears the following inscription:

ANECDOTE GALLERY.

HOBBES AT CHATSWORTH.⁶

Of all the personages connected with the local history of Chatsworth, who may have been rendered conspicuous either by their situation or their talents, perhaps no one has a more powerful claim to notice than the once celebrated latin poet and philosopher, Hobbes: his connexion with the Devonshire family began early in life, and Chatsworth, in consequence, became his occasional residence; he was a man originally of a weak constitution, and he is said to have been subject through life to imaginary and unnecessary personal fears, which continually preyed upon and agitated his spirits; yet by a strict and uniform attention to diet and exercise, he lived to the age of 92. He was a very early riser, and as soon as he had quitted his bed he walked or rather ran to the tops of some of the hills about Chatsworth, that he might enjoy a fresher and a purer breeze than circulated through the valley. This practice he continued until he was compelled to relinquish it by the infirmities of age. After breakfast he visited the Earl and the Countess of Devonshire and their children, until about twelve o'clock, when he dined in