.

two Societies, everything has been restored, as near as could be ascertained, to its original beauty. The clustered columns, supporting the roof of the nave, present a fine appearance. These are the original pillars, once used in the old Church, of polished marble, variegated and beautiful. In the ancient part of the Church is presented the most interesting example in England, of the transition of the plain massive Norman, to the light and elegant early English style. In the Round, one may notice the semicircular windows of the Norman period; but Norman in the last stage of a change to something else, already grown slender and elongated. There too we have the pointed windows-the very perfection of what is called the lancet style. The stained window over the altar, appears like one of the richest works of the olden time, although it is very modern, while the richly gilded roof is scarce less splendid than it was, when the clang of knightly heel rang upon the stone pavement below. The stained window first mentioned, with its deep rubies, rich purple, and gold, represents Christ enthroned. The pavement of the Church remodeled in strict correspondency, with the the ancient one, is yellow and amber upon a deep ground of red. There is a great grouping of heraldric and pictorial subjects, such as animals with their tails linked together; cocks and foxes, and figures playing upon musical instruments. But the chief ornaments are the symbols of the two societies of the Temple; the Lamb, and the Pegasus, or winged horse, founded on the celerity of Heraclius. The Lamb being the device of St. John, belonged to the Hospitallers of St. John, who succeeded the Templars. One of the members of the Inns, in glorifying this symbolic emblem, now adopted by the Order, wrote the following eulogistic verses:

" As by the Templars hold you go,
The Horse and Lamb displayed,
In emblematic figures show,

The merits of their trade.

That clients may infer from thence,
How just is their profession,
The Lamb sets forth their innocence,
The Horse their expedition.

O happy Britons! happy isle!

Let foreign nations say;

When you get justice without guile,

And law without delay."

To this, some wag made the following reply:

"Deluded men! these holds forego

Nor trust such cunning elves,
These artful emblems tend to show
Their clients, not themselves!

'Tis all a trick; these all are shams
By which they mean to cheat you;
So have a care; for you're the Lambs,
And they the Wolves that eat you.
Nor let the thoughts of no delay,

To these, their courts misguide you;
For you're the showy horse, and they,
The jockies that will ride you."

Among the greatest objects of interest in this Church, are the recumbent figures of the cross-legged Crusaders on the floor. They are nine in number, and lie four on each side of the central walk, in a double line. These are ancient monuments of Knights Templars. Selden and Plowden are buried in the vaults of this Church, and the gentle author of the "Ecclesiastical Polity," has very appropriately a monument, commemorative of his many virtues, and rare abilities. Beneath a worn and moss-covered slab of gray stone, just outside the walls of the Church, are supposed to rest the remains of Littleton. And with this old Church, ended a day's wandering in London.

CHAPTER IV.

A FEW OF THE

CELEBRITIES OF LONDON.

The Parks-The Mansion House - The Exchange- The Bank of England.

How appropriately did Wyndham style the Parks, "the lungs of London." Great breathing places, indeed they are, with their shaded walks, running streams, and verdant sod all open to the sky. Here leaves are waving, waters rippling, and flowers blowing, as if the huge city, with its million of murmuring voices, had been removed miles away. These Parks are where that great Leviathan, the London populace, comes up to breathe, darting back again into the deep waters of the crowded stream; then rising here each day to catch a breath of the pure and vital air of heaven.

Nothing is more surprising to an American, accustomed to the narrow and contracted squares of his own cities, than these great spaces open to the sky in such a metropolis as London. Some idea may be formed of the extent of these Parks, when it is known that they embrace a space of more than fourteen hundred acres, taken out as it were of the very heart of the city. To the early taste of English Sovereigns for the chase, London is unquestionably indebted for her Parks: so that what in one age savored of oppression and encroachment upon the liberty of the subject, has in another, been the means of producing the greatest amount of public good; and added mate

rially to the sum total of public happiness. Thus true it is, there is a soul of goodness in things ill, when time, and advanced civilization furnish the alembic, to distil it out.

St. James's, Green, and Hyde Park, with Kensington Garden's, stretch in an unbroken line, from White Hall to Kensington Palace; so that one may really walk from Downing Street to Bayswater, a distance of three miles, without taking his feet off the sod. These three Parks enclose London on its west side: Regent's and Battersea Parks lying to the north and southwest. Besides these immense open spaces, which are beautifully laid out; the ventilation of this great city is cared for in numerous squares, some of them of large extent, planted with trees, and embracing in the whole, several hundred acres.

St. James's Park is shaped not unlike a boy's kite, enclosing some eighty-three acres. And who that has ever pored over the quaint and gossipping diary of Evelyn, or read the stately lines of the courtly Waller, but feels at home within its charming precincts? Evelyn in his Sylva, talks about "the branchy walks of elms in St. James's, intermingling their reverend tresses." The branchy walks are still here; and the long avenue of elms, (whether of Evelyn's time we know not,) with interlacing branches, yet cover the sod with their dark shade. It was in this park occurred that touching incident related of Charles I. on his way to the scaffold at Whitehall; when the poor King pointed with tears in his eyes to the oak, which had been planted by the hands of his brother Henry, and said, "his fate was happier than mine, for he died young." And here too, along this very walk, in gloomy mood with Whitlock, strode that bold bad man, Cromwell, asking with significant look, "what if a man should

take upon himself to be king?" and receiving that chilling response" the remedy would be worse than the disease." The glimpses of grand architectural objects from this Park are indeed striking, and include the Towers of Westminster, those of the new Houses of Parliament-the long and rather monotonous facade of Buckingham Palace, with York Column soaring high in air, and the Horse Guards terminating the rather picturesque vista of the Lake. Upon the Island, in the eastern part of the Lake, is the Swiss Cottage of the Ornithological Society, containing a Council Room, keeper's apartments, and steam hatching apparatus, while contiguous are feeding places. On this Island, aquatic fowls brought from all countries, make their own nests among the shrubbery; and in the morning the whole surface of the Lake is alive with them, in all their varied plumage. The fashionable days of the Park, have long since gone. It was once the favorite lounge of royalty, and all the fashion of the metropolis, gathered here in the afternoon. One familiar with the comedies of Otway, Congreve, and Farquhar, will recognize St. James's as the favorite locale of the numerous assignations mentioned in those plays. Down to the days of Goldsmith, this Park appears to have been a fashionable resort. In his "Essays," he says-"If a man be splenetic, he may every day meet companions on the seats in St. James, with whose groans he may mix his own, and pathetically talk of the weather." Hyde Park has now become the fashionable afternoon lounge of the nietropolis; and St. James's is left to nursery-maids, and their interesting charges. A pleasant sight it is, which may be witnessed at all hours of the day, in clear weather, to see the numerous rosy-cheeked children, and little misses in