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new empires rise, the revolutions of ages affect thee not, nor the vicissitudes of nature.-Thou art old! thou art young! Daily does the sun set on thy wave ; proudly wilt thou meet him to-morrow. Time, which causes an alteration in all else,-in man, and his works, in the pomp of towns and the fertility of valleys, seems to be at a stand still with thee! Roll on, thou mighty river, sweep thy course, old father Thames! Truly has the imaginative Bulwer said,— "There is no moral for a great city like that of the river which washeth its walls."

CHAPTER X.

Sunday-Promenade in Hyde-Park-Visiting-Patrick's Day in London-Sermon-Wise change of an Artist-Advice— Environs of London-Cockney Villas-Abode of Guy Faux.

Sunday 13th.

MORNING, bright, sunshiny, and calm—the first for four days. A fine Sunday brings with it something cheering, particularly for those to whom it is the only day when they can enjoy recreation, when they are not engaged in the various duties attending their station in life.

After breakfast I prepared for prayers, and got into Chelsea Chapel some time ere the preacher had mounted the pulpit. Notwithstanding all that bigotted or ignorant writers can say on the subject, I am of opinion that religious ceremonies tend much to inspire devotion, awe for the majesty of God, and respect for his ministers. As the excellent music came in divine strains, it kept my mind awake to the sacrifice which the priests were in the act of offering on the altar. The sermon was clear, lucidly arranged, and came home to the breasts of all who heard it.

Having a few hours to spend before my engagement with Rev. T. S. with whom I was to dine, I

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strolled into Hyde-Park, intending to call on the Rs. Hyde-Park seems to me to be the great promenade of London. It contains four hundred acres, more or less, and is adorned with a very fine piece of water called the Serpentine, why, or wherefore I know not, unless (lucus a non lucendo) for contrariety sake, it being nearly a straight canal But people do a great deal from a spirit of opposition. This park is sometimes used for reviewing the horse and foot guards on field days. The entrance, close by Apsley House, is very magnificent; and, on an eminence near Hyde-Park Corner, is a noble statue of Achilles, inscribed to the Duke of Wellington and his brothers-in-arms, by their countrywomen. It is cast from the cannon taken in his victories. From this entrance to Cumberland Gate is a fine carriage-road, and broad foot-paths, where, particularly on Sundays, from two until five, the crowds are immense.

I do not know exactly whether it is a keen perception of the ridiculous, as displayed in the failings of others, or the inordinate desire which prompts me to seek human nature in every variety of form, and every shade of society, that impels me to observe the behaviour of those with whom I happen to be associated, or glean en passant from their countenances what knowledge I may. Certes do I find much delight in the concourse gathered pour aller se promener dans Hyde-Park.

Sunday being levee day for all stragglers at the

R--s, whose house being directly in front of the entrance to the park affords the best view of what is going on in the world below, without partaking of any bodily exertion, I, of course, found them at home. They amused themselves looking over some pen sketches which I had finished, while I in return looked over their performance. Our pursuits were occasionally interrupted, however. Lady- and her daughter were announced.

When last I beheld them in the same rooms it was a gay scene; lights, music, busy feet, were now dispersed, and Lady - came to pay a farewell visit ere leaving town for Cheltenham. Her daughter, a gay, lively hoydon, seemed loath to leave the capital. I was much struck with her pensive air, and the tone of naïveté in which she uttered, as she surveyed the scenes of so much gaiety! "Oh! what charming rooms these are ! Ah! thought I, there speaks the memory of sighs, and vows, and tender words. Some visitors from time to time dropped out, and more dropped in. Leaning on the window frame, I surveyed the busy throng, who, like ants at work, passed and repassed continually before my eyes; my fair companions kindly pointing out such characters as either from their rank or other cause had become conspicuous. "See, there's Marquis Conyngham, and his little son, Lord Mount-Charles. How beautifully he sits his poney!" "This carriage driving close by, contains the Duchess Countess of Suther

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land: she is the Dowager, and is going to see her daughter, Lady Surrey, next door." When tired of the spectacle, I turned to a table, where Miss J. R. had some autographs for me to look at. They were many and rare. Geo. III; Geo. IV; Cardinal Wolsey; Nelson and Bronte; a drawing of a brooch with explanation by Sir W. Scott; Talleyrand, Bulwer, &c. As I was not to keep my Rev. friend waiting, I rose and took my leave.

I was at his house before he had returned from catechising the children, and amused myself with a survey of his drawing-room. It was unique: the impress of his sister's hand was still visible every where. The upright cabinet piano, the harp, music books, vases, all shewed the female nicety. He had requested some ladies of his acquaintance to drink tea, and give me some music, but they having declined, begged in their turn he would go to them, which he agreed to, and sent word he would take a gentleman with him. Accordingly, in due time, we proceeded to the abode of his kind friend, Mrs, where, after making a valuable addition to my acquaintance in this vast city, I concluded a rational evening in very agreeable society.

Thursday, 17th.

An organ playing close under my window the Irish national air brought to my recollection that the anniversary of the Saint's festival was at hand, and I rose to do honour to Patrick's day. To an