affection of the nation. Since the accession of Leopold to the throne of Belgium, the visits of Victoria almost alone give life to the deserted mansion.

From Claremont we pass through Esher, a respectable but dull town, to Esher Place, which Thomson sings of as "Esher's groves

"in sweetest solitude embrac'd

By the soft windings of the silent Mole."

His

The grounds of Esher Place are very beautiful, and vistas are so arranged and garden seats so placed as to call attention to the loveliest prospects. At Esher Place Wolsey had a palace, a seat attached to the Bishopric of Winchester; and here it was that he retired after losing Henry's favour, and when he had been so ruthlessly despoiled of his other possessions by that rapacious monarch. residence at Esher was marked by deep mortifications, and it is quite painful to read his earnest and importunate supplications for mercy. This is altogether a humiliating period of his life. Just before his fall his style of living was of almost unequalled magnificence; here he was obliged to borrow beds, linen, and even dishes; was straitened almost for the necessaries of life, and was only enabled, by the contributions of his chaplains, and of the followers who remained constant to him in his adversity, to pay the wages due to his inferior servants. "His faults lie gently on him!"

"This cardinal,

Though from an humble stock, undoubtedly
Was fashion'd to much honour."

The only remnant of Wolsey's palace is what is called Wolsey's Tower. It stands by the side of the Mole, and is a red brick building, bearing in its general appearance, and also in its details, a

strong resemblance to the older parts of Hampton Court: both, it will be remembered, were erected by Wolsey at about the same period. The tower is partly overgrown by ivy, but is in good preservation.

While the visitor is pondering on the character and fortunes of that extraordinary man, and trying, perchance, to recall to his imagination the strange times-big with so many mighty events-in which he lived; a train of carriages will, perhaps, dash along the railway viaduct that is carried just be

yond the tower, and bring home to his mind with a startling vividness the wondrous changes that have come over our land since the fallen Cardinal here in bitterness of heart gave utterance to those affecting meditations on the mutability of all sublunary things, which our great bard has rendered immortal.

Soon after passing under the railway, the river separates into two branches: the one runs by Ember Court and near Thames Ditton, so favourite a resort of Thames anglers; the other flows towards Moulsey Hurst, notorious in past days as the scene of many prize pugilistic encounters. The banks of the Mole are here low and marshy, and there is little more that is attractive in its course till its union with the Thames nearly opposite Hampton Court. Near its termination, we pass through the pretty rustic village of East Moulsey (or Molesey, as it was formerly spelt), which takes its name from our river. Here it works a large factory-like and most unpicturesque mill. The termination of the Mole is a noble one. From its mouth the Thames, with Hampton Court on the opposite bank, form a picture of surpassing beauty; that magnificent palace is nowhere seen to greater advantage.

Here, then, we part from our silent companion. The railway station stands invitingly near, but the rambler will prefer, if there be time, to cross the old wooden bridge to Hampton Court, and from thence stroll through the stately avenues of Bushy Park to Richmond, from which place he may-after a passing glance at the always new prospect from its hill embark on board the Richmond steamer, and thus appropriately conclude this river ramble.

ONE of the very pleasantest home rambles that can be pointed out for that

"Soote season that bud and bloom forth brings,"

is along the banks of these rivers. "Somer is come," as the old poet sings; and among the many delightful things that come with it, none

D

is more delightful than the opportunity it affords to some alas! that it is to so few of the care-worn sons of toil, of a brief respite from their daily labour and anxiety. In a large city almost all are overwrought-mind and body are alike overstrained, and become enervated unless they sometimes seek quiet and repose, and, by availing themselves of free Nature's grace, obtain a renewal of health and vigour. All who can should make a summer holiday, however short; for not alone is the health improved thereby, knowledge streams in upon the mind; a season is afforded for thoughtfulness; we can in seclusion look before and after, ponder on our past course and see where we have erred, and form plans of manly purpose for the future; while by communing with those of different pursuits and interests to our own, some of our prejudices are brushed away, and we learn to look with more kindly feelings on all; and the taste is refined and chastened by a return to simple natural enjoyments, and an absence for awhile from the feverish excitement of the city.

Thus, if we mistake not, it will be found that along with the buoyancy of health come an expansion and purification of the mind-nay, may we not say something of a renovation of the whole man? Nought like a solitary ramble among the mountains for this purpose. But there are many who can make a short holiday, yet to whom a mountain trip is quite impracticable; for such we are about to point out a route that will lead them through a variety of beautiful scenery, and that offers at the same time many attractions to the man of science and the lover of our national antiquities; while it will yield an abundance of