have been when in its pride. There was no one living in the house, and no access to the grounds but through a gap in the fence. We strolled through winding paths and shady groves, ornamented with statues, colonnades, and dripping grottos. Over one of these cool retreats the poet had placed the following inscription, since set to music in a very pleasing way by the accomplished Lord Mornington : : "Here, in cool grot and mossy cell, "Her beams, reflected from the wave, This secluded domain contains, in the smallest compass, all the beauties of poetic scenery. Nature herself is charming; but here, the poet has decked her out in all the blandishments of art. From a rock gushed a little impetuous stream, that admirably played its part in this theatre of fancy. After personating waterfalls, placid lakes, and tinkling rills, it left this paradise to flow into the vulgar meadows below, to do the drudgery of turning mill-wheels, making nails, and grinding corn, under the ignoble name of the river Stour. Turning our attention to the land, what feathery woods and glossy slopes enticed you along. In sequestered spots, you met with tablets in memory of departed friends. One to Lady Lyttleton -Shenston's nearest neighbour-written by her husband, contained these beautiful lines :— We threaded the long alleys with delight, through which, like telescopes, we looked at the faint prospects far beyond. In whatever direction we turned, there were pictures for the painter's eye. To describe this elysium, Johnson himself might write in vain. It was such a paradise as this that Garrick possessed at Chiswick, who said to the sage, "to die and leave it, made death horrible." My visit to this lovely retreat induced me to put a few placid notes to the following lines: SONG.-(PAGE 118.) "To these lone shades where peace delights to dwell, My fortune oft permits me to retreat ; * For the Music, vide Vol. I., page 18. We returned to dinner at our comfortable inn, and, after a bottle of perry, the champaigne of the country, we jogged off to Birmingham, where we parted. CHAPTER XXIII. JOURNEY INTO NORFOLK-CAMBRIDGE-MUSIC-COLLEGES. On In the year 1789, I was sent into Norfolk, to collect some outstanding moneys in that county. arriving at Cambridge, I put up at Gurfog's Hotel, opposite to St. John's-gate, and, having no business to transact there, as soon as I had seen my horse fed (that being the first duty of a traveller), I sallied forth among the colleges, and strolled about, amazed at the magnificence I beheld. As I passed St. Mary's Church, I heard music, and soon found my way into the organ-loft-where Dr. Randall, the professor of music, was rehearsing Handel's anthem, My heart is inditing in a good matter. I was charmed, and could not leave till the music had ceased. This was preparatory to the celebration-day on which the king was to go to St. Paul's, to return thanks for his mental recovery. I saw little more than the exterior of these buildings, as I had not sufficient boldness to enter any one of the quadrangles. How great was my surprise, when I learnt that all this grandeur was stored with learning. I felt the same desire as Prince Laboo, when he first saw a school, who expressed a wish that he might sit down among the scholars, and do as they did. With what an air of dignity the students passed me in the streets, in their caps and flowing gowns ! The whole scene was imposing, and filled me with admiration. I returned to the inn for dinner, and ate it without knowing what was set before me, so captivated had I been. However, the bill soon informed me, for it amounted to the alarming sum of four shillings and eight pence. I remonstrated against the charge; the waiter said he would send his master. Mr. Gurfog made his appearance, and addressing me as a "freshman," hoped there was nothing wrong in the bill. I assured him I was not a "gownsman," and of no higher rank than a commercial traveller, and that I had hitherto been charged only a shilling for my dinner. Upon showing my saddle-bags, which I had hid under the table, he made a thousand apologies, and reduced my dinner to a shilling.* On my way to Bury, I fell in with a groom, going to Newmarket races; and, as it was a sight worth seeing, I begged to join him. The course was a barren heath, and instead of booths and crowds of people, I found only a few clusters of spectators, chiefly noblemen, who were more intent upon the sport as a gambling affair, than in admiration of the beautiful * Port wine then was only 2s. a bottle. horses. My companion knew many of the distinguished characters, among whom he pointed out to me Charles Fox, in his blue coat and buff waistcoat. But for the pleasure of seeing this statesman, I thought it a flat, uninteresting sight, and not at all equal to our races at Leicester. I then pursued my route to Bury, and was much struck with the antiquity of the Abbey. As I strolled through the church-yard, I met with an epitaph, which I was curious enough to copy: "Here lies the body of Jane Kent; Death kick'd up her heels, and away she went.' وو I arrived in the evening at Diss, and hearing that there was a grinding organ in the church, then a great novelty, I hunted up the sexton, and expressed a wish to see it. He lit his lanthorn, and on our way to the church informed me that he was the organist as well as sexton. With a very consequential air, he began his performance. I was pleased with the compact and solid effect-more so than with the loose style of playing I have heard from some dexterous performers. I then observed, "you play nothing but psalmody"! He smiled, and with self-complacency said, “I play voluntaries, sir"! and immediately commenced one, which I applauded. Afterwards I was favoured with Handel's Hallelujah Chorus, with which he played the congregation out of church. As the night was cold, I took him to the inn, and warmed his heart with a cup of gingered ale. This he ma |