of consequence, saluting the company as he passed along, he at length mingled amongst the audience in the front of the orchestra, and distributed a number of cards, on each of which was written, The Ærial challenges the whole world to find a man that can in any way compete with him as such.' After having served about three or four hundred of these challenges, he darted off like lightning, taking the whole circuit of the gardens in his career, and made his exit through the grand entrance into the road, where a carriage was in waiting for him, into which he sprang and was driven off."

The prices of admission into the gardens have undergone several changes: prior to 1792 the charge was one shilling; new and expensive decorations were then introduced, and the charge raised to two shillings, including however tea and coffee. During the present century four shillings without any refreshment has been long paid; the next change was to the original price of one shilling only. During this last-mentioned period a new and great attraction was added-the Nassau balloon, the largest machine of the kind yet constructed; which, as is well known, derives its name from the extraordinary aerial journey made in it from London to Nassau in Germany, by Mr. Green and his fellow-travellers. At present, during the few nights on which the gardens are open prior to the disposal of the property, the price of admission is three shillings.

66

Yes, Ranelagh is gone; and but a few short days or weeks may elapse before Vauxhall will have shared its fate. The lustrous long arcades," along which of old swept the courtly and fashionable throng,- revelling in all the

fantastic varieties of the Mode, as we see them pictured in engravings of the time, will perhaps soon be changed into long and busy rows of bricks and mortar, where the wandering minstrel with his barrel-organ will usurp

the place of the magnificent "full-bodied concert," and the stentorian cries of the perambulatory dealers rise in harsh contrast with the songs of the nightingales which were once heard from the lofty, over-arching, and fragrant boughs, in the same place, when Addison roamed along its walks, meditating possibly his next 'Spectator,' and beheld, in his " mind's eye," Sir Roger, by his side, buried in a train of the tenderest recollections of the widow !

But the illustrious memories of such places as Ranelagh and Vauxhall, like the deeds of good men, die not with them. We shall still be able to a certain extent to enjoy all they offered for enjoyment in the pages of our great writers; and even this humble memorial may not for the same purpose be found useless. It is that consideration which impels us to conclude our paper with a description of a place so often described, and so generally well known. What would be useless as a present guide may as a future record be of value. The mode of entrance into the gardens, which extend over about eleven acres, is admirably calculated to enhance their extraordinary effect on the first view. We step at once from the passages into a scene of enchantment, such as in our young days opened upon our eyes as we pored over the magical pages of the Arabian Nights.' It were indeed worth some sacrifice of time, money, and convenience, to see for once in a lifetime that view. At first, one wide-extended and interminable blaze of radiance is the idea impressed upon the dazzled beholder. As his eyes grow accustomed to the place, he perceives the form of the principal part of the gardens resolve itself into a kind of long quadrangle, formed by four colonnades which enclose an open space with trees, called the Grove. On his right extends one of the colonnades, some three hundred feet long, with an arched Gothic roof, where the groins are marked by lines of lamps, shedding a yellow golden light, and the pendants by single crimson lamps of a larger size at the intersections. The effect of this arrangement is most superb. Near the eye, the lines or groins appear singly, showing their purpose; farther off they grow closer and closer, till at some distance the entire vista beyond appears one rich blaze of radiance. In front the visitor looks across one of the shorter ends of the quadrangle, illuminated in a different but still more magnificent manner by a chandelier of great size, formed of coloured lamps, and by various smaller chandeliers. Still standing in the same place (at the door of entrance), and looking across the interior of the quadrangle called the Grove, midway is seen the lofty orchestra, glittering all over with the many-coloured light diffused from innumerable lamps. This was erected in 1735, and has itself many interesting memories attached to it. Beneath that vast shell which forms the roof or sounding-board of the orchestra many of our greatest vocalists and performers have poured forth their strains to the delight of the crowded auditory in frontSignor and Signora Storace, Mrs. Billington, Miss Tyrer (now Mrs. Liston), Incledon, Braham, and a host of others, at once rise to the memory. The Grove is illuminated not only by the reflected light from the colonnades on either side and by the orchestra, but by festoons of lamps, gracefully undulating along the sides of the colonnades from one end to the other. Among the other attractions of the Grove, we find immediately we step into it some beautiful plaster casts from the antique, the light colour of which forms a fine contrast with

the blackness of the neighbouring trees and the solemn gloom of the sky above, which assumes a still deeper tinge when seen under such circumstances. Immediately opposite these, at the back of the short colonnade which forms this end of the Grove, with elevated arches opening upon the colonnade, is the splendid room originally called the Pavilion, now the Hall of Mirrors, a title more appropriate as marking its distinctive character, the walls being lined with lookingglass. This is the principal supper-room. Turning the corner we enter upon the other of the two principal colonnades, which is similarly illuminated. A little way down we find an opening into the Rotunda, a very large and handsome building, with boxes, pit, and gallery in the circular part, and on one side a stage for the performance of ballets, &c. The pit forms also, when required, an arena for the display of horsemanship. At the end of this colonnade we have on the right the colonnade forming the other extremity of the Grove, hollowed out into a semicircular form, the space being fitted up somewhat in the manner of a Turkish divan. On the left we find the more distant and darker parts of the gardens. Here the first spot that attracts our attention is a large space, the back of which presents a kind of mimic amphitheatre of trees and foliage, having in front rock-work and fountains; from one of the latter Eve has just issued, as we perceive by the beautiful figure reclining on the grass above. Not far from this place a fine cast of Diana arresting the flying hart stands out in admirable relief from the dark-green leafy background. Here too is a large building, presenting in front the appearance of the proscenium and stage of a theatre. Ballets, performances on the tight-rope, and others of a like character, are here exhibited. The purpose of the building is happily marked by the statues of Canova's dancing-girls, one of which is placed on each side of the area at the front. At the corner of a long walk, between trees lighted only by single lamps spread at intervals on the ground at the sides, is seen a characteristic representation of Tell's cottage in the Swiss Alps. This walk is terminated by an illuminated transparency, placed behind a Gothic gateway, representing the delicate but broken shafts of some ruined ecclesiastical structure, with a large stone cross-that characteristic feature of the way-sides of Roman Catholic countries. At right angles with this walk extends a much broader one, with the additional illumination of a brilliant star; and at its termination is an opening containing a very imposing spectacle. This is a representation, in a large circular basin of water of Neptune with his trident, driving his five sea-horses abreast, which are snorting forth liquid streams from their nostrils; these in their ascent cross and intermingle in a very pleasing and striking manner. The lustrous white and great size of the figures are, like all the other works of art in the gardens, admirably contrasted with the surrounding features of the place. Passing in our way the large building erected for the convenience of filling the great balloon, and the area where the fireworks are exhibited, we next enter the Italian Walk, so called from its having been originally decorated in the formal, exact style of the walks of that country. This is a noble promenade or avenue of great length and breadth, crossed every few yards by a lofty angular arch of lamps, with festoons of the same brilliant character, hanging from it, and having statues interspersed on each side throughout.

On quitting this walk at its farther extremity we find ourselves in the centre of the long colonnade opposite to that we quitted in order to examine the more remote parts of the gardens. The inner side of each of the long colonnades is occupied by innumerable supper-boxes, in some of which yet remain the pictures before referred to. We have scarcely had time for this hasty survey, during which too our attention has been partially drawn away by the noble music which has been playing almost without intermission since we entered the gardens, before the performances commence with a ballet in the Rotunda, relieved from its usual dulness and absurdity by the extraordinary feats of the Ravel Family, some of which set at nought all our ordinary notions of the anatomy of the body, or the laws of its locomotion. Walking, or rather hopping, across the stage, on one stilt, and without any other support, at a quiet gentlemanly pace, is but one, and not the most extraordinary, of the many curious things here done. Ducrow's troop next exhibit their unrivalled skill and elegance in the management of the horse, though it is no easy task to clear the pit for them, by this time crowded with spectators. The instant the equestrian performances are over a general race ensues for the stage we have mentioned as standing in another part of the gardens, where tight-rope dancing of no ordinary kind is to be exhibited. And certainly so much ease and elegance in the accomplishment of feats that appear wonderful to be accomplished at all make us forget the uselessness of such laboriously acquired skill, or the danger with which its display is not unfrequently attended. Indeed, as we looked upon the feats done by the performers, one of them a member of the family previously noticed, we could scarcely help wondering whether after all the tight rope was not man's natural sphere of exertion; certainly we beheld much done on the rope that we should find it difficult to imitate off. A bell now rings, and summons us to the last and by far the most beautiful and satisfactory to our minds of the entertainments of the evening-the fire-works. Vauxhall has long been distinguished for the excellence of its displays of this elegant art; and in the hands of the present artist its reputation has been still further advanced. In the words of a very recent writer, who has described one of these exhibitions so happily that we shall do better justice to what we ourselves beheld by using his language than our own,-"The fire-works of D'Ernst were one of the most superb displays of pyrotechny that we ever saw-not so much for quantity as quality: the devices were most ingenious, and the colours intensely beautiful. The showers of sparks served as a golden fringe or setting to the luminous gems that blazed in the centre, like concentric circles of ruby, emerald, and sapphire, glowing with preternatural lustre. The rockets rushed upwards as though they would reach the moon, and burst forth in showers of golden tears, silver stars, and amber balls; while some changed, as they fell, from lustrous green to burning crimson: fiery rings darted to and fro like comets, jets of fire went spinning upwards, and nests of serpents were shaken out into the air. In short, D'Ernst might achieve a Gorgon's head, with snaky tresses and flaming eyeballs, as a feat of artificial fire, if he were so minded."* must add to this vivid description that during the last portion of the exhibition

* Spectator newspaper, July 10, 1841.

We

a child ascended a tight-rope stretched at a great height over the gardens, his slender form now hid by the smoke, now revealed by the intense light suddenly bursting forth from different parts of the area: when he had reached the extreme altitude he returned; and as he descended from the giddy elevation, the entire space became wrapped in almost sudden darkness. The distant orchestra now begins again to summon listeners; the promenaders recommence their walks along the glorious colonnades; whilst the glimpse of attendants darting to and fro with refreshments reminds the hungry that it is now supper-time at Vauxhall.