of 500 feet diameter, called the Forest Oval, with a view of the Hermitage, backed by a large row of trees. This building had three doors or gateways; and the middle part, which formed a considerable projection, supported a kind of ruinous angular pediment, composed of stones rudely laid together, and partly covered with moss and mural weeds. The entrance was adorned with iron palisades finely gilt. The interior apartment was of an octagonal form, with niches containing busts. Long avenues of stately elms, crossing each other, formed large square intervals, employed as meadows and corn fields, or were covered with thickets, where hares, pheasants, and partridges found a shelter. Such was the state of these gardens in Queen Caroline's time."

In the reign of George the Third, Queen Charlotte had them altered very materially, and perhaps beneficially; for Brown, under whose directions the alterations were planned, pulled down and did away with many things which art only made sacred -a thing of secondary importance in the laying out of extensive domains, nature being the first object worthy of consideration.

The town is about a mile and a half in extent, and stretches from the summit of the hill down its side into the vale beneath. Henry the Fifth founded a Carthusian monastery near this place, and called it Bethlehem; as he also did one near Isleworth, which has been before mentioned, and which he called Sion.

Bishop Duppa, (who was tutor to the Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles the Second,) when in exile on account of the civil wars then raging in England, having vowed, if he ever returned, to build some alms-houses, did so when such period arrived, placing on the gate the following inscription:

I will pay the vows I made to God in my youth.

In the reign of James the First the courts of law were removed to this place, on account of the plague then raging in London; as also in the year 1625, from the same cause.

In the church, on the south side, among other inscriptions, is the following, placed under a figure in a kneeling attitude:

Thus youth and age and all things pass away;
Thy turn is now, as his was yesterday;
Tomorrow shall another take thy room,
The next day he a prey for worms become,
And o'er your dusty bones shall others tread,
As you now walk and trample on the dead,
'Till neither stone nor memory appear,

That ever you had birth or being here.

In this church are deposited the remains of the poet Thomson, to whose memory a monument has been erected in Westminster Abbey; his genius and talent demanded that such a token of respect should be paid to him in the metropolitan abbey; but it was not until the year 1792 that a similar token was erected over the spot where his bones are lying. In that year Earl Buchan directed a

monument to be placed over his remains, with the following inscription:

Father of Light and Life! thou good supreme,
O teach me what is good! teach me thyself.
Save me from folly, vanity, and vice,

From every low pursuit, and feed my soul
With knowledge, conscious peace and virtue,
Pure, sacred, substantial, never-fading bliss.

During the progress of this work, death has also placed within these walls another eminent genius. The author alludes to the late tragedian, Mr. Kean, who, to the lover of real unaffected nature, never played without convincing such that he was her true child; and it will not be advancing too much, if it be said, that, since the days of Garrick, no one has yet appeared with such perfect claims to pre-eminence in the profession in which he had engaged as poor Kean, who now (and deeply is it deplored by every sincere admirer of the legitimate drama) lies numbered with the dead.

There formerly existed a ferry at the spot where now there is a bridge, and a very neat and handsome structure it is, consisting of five arches ; it was begun in the year 1775, and finally completed in that of 1777: the materials are of stone.

From the summit of Richmond Hill is gained one of the most enchanting views imaginable, and to which nothing but the pen of a poet would be able to do justice. On whichsoever side the eye may turn, it rests on sublime, stirring, or peaceful objects. From this spot eight counties may be

viewed laying open to the eye of the beholder-certainly not the kingdoms of the earth, but most decidedly the glory of one. Thomson, who was a true poet of nature, has well said, when writing on this subject,

Heavens, what a goodly prospect spreads around,
Of hills and dales, and lawns and spires,

And glittering towns and gilded streams, till all
The stretching landscape into smoke decays.

From this delightful spot variety is presented in all the witchery of winning ways: alike the mossy tower, the stately palace, the luxurious villa, and the humble shed—all that art can raise or nature bestow is here beheld in the fullest perfection-the flowing river, the falling fountain, the magnificent cedar, and the tender exotic-all that can give a charm to existence, that can make life pleasing to others and grateful to ourselves. Looking to the south, the eye, rapidly scanning the beauties of Kew, rests on the hills of Surry; thence surveys, in the east, the mighty metropolis ; while, in fine contrast to the gloom occasioned by the smoke vomited forth from its million of chimneys, are seen to the north the hanging woods and lovely hills of Hampstead and Highgate. To the west, when

"No clouds, no vapours intervene,

But the gay, the open scene,"

the towers of Windsor Castle are clearly distinguishable, and, nearer still, the beauties of Hamp

ton Court Palace, the ancient town of Kingston, the rural village of Teddington, the stately groves of Petersham, the magnificence of Ham, and the quiet loveliness of Twickenham, all lending their aid to give enchantment to the scene, and to assist in forming a picture, the longer it is seen the more it is desired; as though

"increase of fancy did grow by that it fed on."

How applicable to the country around are the following words of Dyer:

Ever charming, ever new,

When will the landscape tire the view!
The fountain's fall, the river's flow,

The woody valleys warm and low,
The pleasant seat, the ruined tower,
The naked rock, the shady bower,
The town and village, dome and farm-
Each give to each a double charm,
Like pearls upon an Ethiop's arm.

Now, even now my joys run high,
As on the mountain's turf I lie;
While the wanton zephyr sings,
And in the vale perfumes his wings;
While the waters murmur deep;

While the shepherds charm the sheep;

While the birds unbounded fly,

And with music fill the sky

Now, even now my joys run high!

It is to be regretted, that while Grongar Hill has its poet, able to immortalize it in such lines as those above, Richmond, with more claims to such an honour, has hitherto been left without such a distinction.