tution. It was erected for the purpose of fitting up rooms to contain a public library. It now has a respectable collection of books, and is furnished with a good variety of newspapers and periodical publications. In a room adjoining the library is a collection of natural and artificial curiosities, together with some philosophical apparatus, belonging to the Society of the Natural history and Antiquities of the Isle of Wight.

There is also another society, called the Vectis Reading Society, upon a smaller scale than that connected with the Institution; and a suite of rooms belonging to the Mechanics' Institution. The only literary character of superior talent to which Newport has had the honour of giving birth, was Dr. James, the friend of Camden, author of the Britannica, first librarian to Sir Thomas Bodley, and a zealous antagonist of the papists.

"He collated MS. of the ancient fathers, with a view of publishing them, but failed in his design, for want of encouragement." He was preferred to the sub-deanery of Wells. Born in 1571, and died at Oxford in 1632.

The suburbs of Newport abound with historic recollections. A short distance from the town stands the beautiful village and ancient castle of Carisbrook. This castle was built by William Fitz-Osborne, Earl of Hereford, and first lord of the Island, within a short period of the Norman conquest. There are certain parts of the building which are of Saxon date; but the present ruin cannot, as a whole, claim a higher antiquity than the days of the Normans. The castle stands on a very commanding eminence; a winding path conducts to its massy towers. Its dilapidated walls enclose about an acre and a half of ground. "The entrance is on the west, over a bridge, in a curtain between two bastions, then through a small gate, over which is a shield, containing a date, (pro

bably of its repair by Elizabeth), from this, by a passage having on each side an embattled wall, and under a very handsome machiolated gate flanked with two round towers. The old door, with its wicket opening into the castle yard, is still remaining. It is formed of strong lattice work, having at each end a piece of iron kept down by a strong nail."

The castle yard furnishes a variety of interesting objects. On the right hand, as we enter, stands the chapel of St. Nicholas. In this sacred edifice, the Mayor and High Constables of Newport are annually sworn into office by the Governor or his steward. On the left, are the ruins of the building in which the unfortunate Charles I. was imprisoned. The window through which, it is said, he attempted to escape, is still visible. A little beyond this stand the barracks and the Governor's house.

To the north-east, situated upon a very elevated spot, is the Keep. The ascent to it is by a flight of time-worn steps, seventy-three in number. The Keep is of great antiquity, being used as a fort by the Saxons in the sixth century. Its present outworks are, however, of much more recent date. The prospect from the summit is enchanting: the village and the village church, embosomed in the midst of lovely scenery, are immediately below; while around is spread a delightful view of hill and dale, wood and water. The eye taking the survey, falls on the Solent Sea and the New Forest to the west; then on Newport, the Medina, and Cowes, with the wide spreading ocean beyond; while at a distance, on the opposite coast, is seen Portsdown Hill; then turning to the south of the Island, the view is bounded by the lofty top of St. Catherine's.

There are the remains of a tower to the south-east, called Mountjoy's Tower; the walls of which are in

some places eighteen feet thick. One of the greatest attractions in the castle yard is the well. Its elevated situation, its remarkable depth, and its crystalline water, make it an object of great curiosity. The water is drawn by a wheel, worked by a donkey. One of these animals died some time ago, that had been employed here forty years. The well is about 210 feet in depth: nearly four seconds elapse, before water thrown into it strikes the water below, and when it does, a very powerful sound is heard.

The view of the ruin from the Shorwell road, or from any part of the valley below, in a south-west direction, is most beautiful: the ivy-mantled towers, the bold portcullis, and dilapidated walls, with the dark waving trees shading the fragments, have a fine effect. The castle is an object of great attraction, from its having been the prison of Charles I. Amidst the walls of this magnificent ruin, during the time of the Commonwealth, the royal captive was destined to pass many a tiresome hour. There is a melancholy pleasure in tracing the manner in which the monarch passed his days, wearied as he must have been, in looking even on scenery the most lovely, and gazing upon a beautiful world, in the expanse of which he was not permitted to regale himself. During his imprisonment, when his servants were removed, he appeared to have been so depressed, as quite to neglect the common affairs of life. "He laid aside all care of his person, suffering his hair and beard, grown to an extraordinary length, to hang dishevelled and neglected. A decrepit old man, employed to kindle his fire, whom he afterwards shewed to Sir Philip Warwick, was, as he affirmed, the best company he enjoyed for several months."* He was accustomed to retire to his solitary

*Worsley, p. 125.

room, and there, in pondering over the treasures of eternal truth, and in reading Hooker's Ecclesiastical Policy, and the Sermons of the English Divines, together with other theological works, relaxing his mind by the strains of Tasso and Spencer, or composing his Suspiria Regalia, he spent his successive moments, waiting for the time when friends or foes would take him from his gloomy abode.*

It is almost impossible to walk round this fine ruin, to look at its massy walls, its hoary battlements, its mouldering fragments, and not to associate with it those stormy days, when the convulsions of civil war broke in upon the calm repose of this peaceful Island; and when the gates of this castle ciosed upon the ruined monarch, without feeling a deep impression of the ravages of time, and the uncertainty and vanity of all earthly glory.

"So revolves the scene;

So time ordains, who rolls the things of pride
From dust to dust again."

Carisbrook is a pleasant, well-watered village, and was once the metropolis of the Island. It has a remarkably fine church, of very ancient date. This venerable pile contains a peal of eight bells: it is

*The former, faithful to their royal master, attempted to liberate him. The plan was laid-a vessel was prepared-a horse was ready-an escort at hand-and the signal given, but it failed. Charles hoped to have escaped by forcing himself between the window bars of the castle. He attempted: his head made its way through, but the bars refused egress to the neck and shoulders. In this painful situation he remained for some time, his head protruding from the window, and his body lodged within the walls. His groans were piteous: his friends heard him, but could afford him no relief. At length, after struggling awhile, he got his head back, and placed a candle in the window, to admonish them that the design was frustrated.

adorned with a fine tower; and seen from the castle, forms a very picturesque object amidst the village and scenery which surround it. The interior contains but few monuments: the one of most consequence, is that to the memory of Lady Wadham, wife of Sir W. Wadham, who was Captain of the Island in the reign of Henry VII. There is also a tablet affixed to one of the pillars, which contains a specimen of those absurd epitaphs which are so frequently found in church-yards. It is an attempt to give a religious meaning to the terms and business of life. The tablet is made of wood, and has some allegorical representations painted on it. The individual, whose memory it records, was William Keeling, Esq. groom of the chamber to James I. The memorial was erected by his "loving and sorrowful wife." In this village there was formerly a convent of Cistertian monks. A farmhouse, called the Priory, occupies the site of the convent, scarcely a vestige of which remains at the present day.

Proceeding from Newport to West Cowes, we pass on the left the seat of Lady Holmes. At a short distance on the right stands St. Cross. The house is sheltered by a fine grove, extending to the summit of the hill. This spot, from its very name, reminds us that it was once hallowed ground. In days of yore, St. Cross was a cell to the Abbey of Tyrone, in France. It now belongs to the College of Winchester; having been seized by the crown as an alien priory, it was bestowed by royal munificence on that seat of learning. In the age of Richard II. it was converted into an hospital.

Parkhurst Forest soon after meets the view. This tract of land exhibits but few marks of its former state. About eighty acres of this forest were granted for the purpose of erecting on it a House ef Industry.