amid circled queens and princesses—with working lip and glaring eye, was the first reaper in this great harvest of death! Glory was gathered from the groans of dying men, and the outspread wings of Victory were dabbled in human blood! And for this cities were illuminated, and bells rang, and guns fired, and thanks given to God in old holy cathedrals, and prayers offered up to Him who has said, "Thou shalt do no murder"- -as if sorrow and repentance were not more befitting the stern solemnity of necessary warfare than the shouts of triumph thus raised over the unfortunate dead.

And here these pillars of battle repose; columns, which shot have struck and fire blackened, here lie "vast and edgeways," as if they had never sustained a shock, while the mighty fabric on which they fought has, perhaps, long since perished. Here they walk and meditate. One that is blind is searching for his companion. They fought together, and are now "wardsmen." He gropes his way, and calls aloud for "Johnny;" and is directed by one or another of his brother pensioners as they pass, for Johnny is at the top of the hill with his telescope, picking up a penny or two from those who are good-natured enough to have "a peep"-and when he distinguishes his old companion he calls to him, nay, comes part of the way; and they light their pipes, and "fight their battles o'er again.". Some of these fine weather-beaten fellows are wags, and nothing delights them more than to cram a landsman." They will kill a score men with one cannon-ball, and tell you how a ship, "fully manned," was boarded and taken by half a dozen hands. Others are grave and thoughtful. They have already contemplated "the sea-mark of their utmost sail," and look calmly on the untrodden shore which lies beyond.

One we observed scanning narrowly the children from

the Greenwich charity-school; amongst which were several orphans, whose fathers had been pensioners in the Hospital. At length he pitched upon two interesting-looking girls, to whom he gave a penny each, and a few cakes. He said they were the children of an old shipmate-one who died in his own ward; that he had married a woman much younger than himself, and that she died first; that whilst their father lived, he kept them respectably, as he was wardsman, and had a few extra privileges; but after his death they were placed in the charity-school-and the old man added, in tones full of feeling, "I always look out for them when they come into the park. Bless their hearts! their father was as good a man as ever broke bread." And he turned away, and walked up the hill, pausing every now and then to look upon the children in the valley; and, an hour after, we saw him sitting at the foot of an antique chesnut, with spectacles on, and a bible in his hand; nor did we venture to disturb his reverie. It might rise from some unaccountable feeling, predominant at the moment, from seeing those dear children gathering the fir-cones, and taking them home (not their own home) for playthings-as if they had no toys now-that endeared this old man more to us than if he had recounted all "his hair-breadth 'scapes." Then to think, "that he always looked for them," and that he recalled their kind father-but, perhaps, that thought might make him sad.

How unlike their former life, to see these men rummaging here and there for a few sticks, to carry home! One passes you with a bundle of withered branches, which would not do more than build a common crow's nest; while another has a piece or two thrust under his arm, and ever keeps his eyes upon the ground, looking for more. Famous smokers are many of them; and we have noticed a few who, sailor-like to the last, pay great attention to

children when they are accompanied by a good-looking nursery-maid. But our greatest delight has been to hear one of them, when he thought himself alone, break out into some stormy old sea-song, which gave the very year and day when the action commenced, with the name of the admiral, and a catalogue of the ships. It was an act indeed, worthy of royalty to give those fine old veterans such a palace-like residence, and such a princely park to wander in. Such a noble act almost dulls the sharp and biting edge of war.

Greenwich Park, at Whitsuntide, is well worth visiting. The fine old hawthorns are still in blossom; and the noble avenues of trees are robed in their summer garments. The beautiful scene is filled with busy life: there are groups of holyday-makers in every corner; turn your eye whichever way you will, you see happy faces, for they have come out solely to enjoy themselves, and left all their cares and troubles at home. This is the great harvest of the old pensioners, their glasses are bespoke three deep; and at every telescope, eyes are looking on the river, and the shipping, and busy London, in the distance, whilst the younger ones marvel how it is that the dome of St. Paul's has approached so near. Fruit is bowled down the hill-side, and a score of young urchins are mixed in the scramble. "Poor Jacks," from the river-side, who speak the rough nautical language perfect, and are well skilled in rich seafaring metaphors-there you will see them playing at "kiss-in-the-ring;" and it is astonishing to mark the airs of some little miss, who is a shade more beautiful than her fair companions, and to see the tricks she plays her boyish lover. Others are running down the hill, and many a slip takes place before they reach the bottom; and then there is one universal titter amongst the bystanders, for it rarely or ever happens that any of the fallen are hurt. Even the

elder people sometime venture on a race; and although they are more careful than they were forty years before, still it reminds them of by-gone times. Others come to look on and laugh; and there is no lack of matter for merriment. One poor fellow has invested all his capital in tartaric acid and carbonated soda; and, with a pail of water at hand, he manufactures soda water on the spot for his customers. Another comes up groggy, and, thinking a glass will cool him, gives a lee-lurch as he is about to pull out his pennystaggers, falls, and upsets the whole establishment. pail of water licks up every grain of the ingredients, and runs fizzing and effervescing amongst the grass; whilst the drunken delinquent lies sprawling amongst the foam. The manufacturer is ruined, and the destroyer has got but a shilling. The loss is summed up, amid much laughter, and a penny subscription is set on foot, to reimburse the unfortunate proprietor.

The

Away we go further on to some new disaster. Whether by accident or design, an old woman's basket of gingerbread has gone cantering down the hill; and fifty ragged rascals have devoured its contents in the same number of seconds. No one did it!—and another penny is drawn from the pockets of the good-natured to repair the loss. A pail, with lemonade "iced," as the salesman says, comes rolling along, water and bottles making a whirl like a mill-wheel. A laughing crowd collects, and the man's loss is made profitable; while the good-hearted cockneys are again gulled! Here an Italian boy grinds, and a merry group dancesthere a youth throws aside the end of his penny cigar, and looks and feels very queer after the "manly" exploit of smoking it. Others come to eat and drink; and they buy every kind of thing that is offered them, having a great love for ginger beer, which the hot sun has "well got up." Further on, you see a little love-making amongst the trees.

It is the first beginning: they keep at a respectful distance now; but, ten to one, before sunset they will be seen armin-arm together, and return to London in the same steam. boat. And, at the last moment of all, she will tell him where "she lives servant," when it is her "Sunday out," and at what corner he is to wait for her. "Will he come?" she goes home wondering. Every way you see little parties seated on the grass; hill and valley are dotted with them; their drapery breaks the brown boles of trees; it blends with the green branches. Each group forms a picture by itself; the little ones are tumbling about on the ground; a hat lies here, a bonnet there; three or four deer fill up the background. The sunlight falls in patches along the chequered avenues; spaces of light and shadow intervening between that long cathedral of trees.

A merry place is Greenwich Park at Whitsuntide,—it is London in the country! From Westminster to Whitechapel, from St. Giles's to St. George's in the Fieldseach pours forth a specimen of its population; from the unwashed sweep, to the clean confectioner; the mealy baker, to the fan-tailed coalheaver, you will find of each class a few specimens; while dandies, newly decorated by Moses and Son, are as plentiful as the rushes amongst which the great Lawgiver was first found. The Jew and the Gentile are nose to nose, lovingly partaking and imparting a light to their cigars; and the man who but the day before called to see if you had any "old clo" to dispose of, makes you a bow (if you have dealt with him) that would not have disgraced Beau Brummel. But the ladies and their costumes, it would puzzle Planche to describe them! Bustles are at a premium; you might almost fancy that the hoops which our grandmothers wore, had been cut into half; that to imitate the camel's hump, was now the new "line of beauty;" that to be like a dromedary, was the