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have escaped the distaste and disuse into which they have since fallen. The figure of Peace is that of an agreeable female; maternal in character and occupation, for she gives nourishment to an infant: various figures surround her, symbolical of the blessings attendant on a pacific policy; a beautiful nymph presents her with a coffer filled with gems and gold; a satyr empties fruit at her feet from an abundant horn; and a panther, throwing itself sportively before him, plays with the vine tendrils which fall from the cornucopia. The artist's intention here was, no doubt, to hint at the effect pro duced by a state of social prosperity, in softening and civilizing the most rude and intractable natures. On the right is seen a group of lovely female children, a part, it is said, of Rubens's own family; a winged genius, or Cupid, and a youthful Hymen attend them, the latter holding over their heads a garland in token of prospective happiness. Mars and his accompanying demons advance from the back-ground, but are repelled by Minerva, who guards the throne of Peace. In the choice, or rather in his mode of treating this subject, Rubens has given full scope to his exuberant fancy; he has mixed up, without discordance, the most familiar images of actual life with the visionary creations of poetry and mythology, and displayed his just and discriminating execution through infinite diversities of age, sex, and character; the entire scene teems with picturesque variety, and the different actors, human and superhuman, beautiful, grotesque, or savage, are placed in the happiest juxtaposition, so as to give force and efficiency to each other. The whole composition, although of the utmost richness and complexity, developes itself with surprising fluency and clearness, a result produced in part by the fine arrangement of chiaro scuro in its colouring. This picture is, we think, somewhat less glowing than is usual with Rubens, and the execution is marked by decision rather than delicacy. That want of refinement in the delineation of the

possession of the property; but the original castle was burnt to the ground in 1554 by the English forces, which in that year attacked the Scottish capital and ravaged the surrounding country. The building, of which the ruins now remain, seems to have been nearly all erected since that disaster. In the old castle, William St. Clair, the Baron of Roslin, who among other titles bore those of Earl of Caithness and Prince of the Orkneys, is recorded to have lived in a style rivalling the magnificence of royal state. The following is the description of his housekeeping given by an old writer: "He kept a great court, and was royally served at his own table in vessels of gold and silver; Lord Dirleton being his masterhousehold, Lord Borthwick his cup-bearer, and Lord Heming his carver; in whose absence they had deputies to attend; viz., Stewart, Laird of Drumlanrig; Tweddie, Laird of Drumerline, and Sandilands, Laird of Calder. He had his halls, and other apartments, richly adorned with embroidered hangings. He flourished in the reigns of James I. and II. His Princess, Elizabeth Douglas, was served by seventy-five gentlewomen, whereof fiftythree were daughters of noblemen, all clothed in velvet and silks, with their chains of gold, and other ornaments; and was attended by two hundred riding gentlemen in all her journeys; and, if it happened to be dark when she went to Edinburgh, where her lodgings were at the foot of the Black Friars' Wynd, eighty lighted torches were carried before her."-(MS., written by a Mr. Hay, in Advocates' Library, quoted in Grose's Antiquities of Scotland.)-It was this splendid feudal chief (who flourished in the middle of the fifteenth century) that erected the exquisitely beautiful chapel which stands in the neighbourhood of Roslin Castle. In the heart of the ruins of the castle, but concealed from view by the old walls and the trees, a small dwelling-house was erected some years ago, for the occupation of the person to whom the grounds are let, which are mostly devoted to the growing of strawberries, a fruit for which Roslin has long been famous. It is a favourite holiday enjoy-human form, with which Rubens is justly charged, is ment of the inhabitants of Edinburgh to make an excur- perhaps less visible in the picture which we have just sion to eat this fruit in the sweet sylvan vale where it described than in most of his performances. In the is produced. work opposite to it, however, the "Rape of the Sabines," this defect is exceedingly conspicuous: the group of young females in the upper part of the picture, who gather round and cling to their mothers, are not indeed deficient in that sort of beauty which is constituted by clear complexions and sunny locks. They look, to use the phrase applied to Rubens's women by a modern critic, like "hillocks of roses," but those in the foreground are both aged and ugly. The whole picture, however, is full of spirit and novelty; for when was Rubens common-place? One of the most striking groups is that wherein an armed warrior is lifting a lady on his horse; and although the silk and satin draperies in which she and some of her companions are habited, are a little at variance with our notions of historical propriety, we are reconciled to those anachronisms by the general splendour of the effect. Splendour, indeed, was a quality indispensable to Rubens, and which he inva riably determined to secure, with truth or without it.

THE NATIONAL GALLERY.

RUBENS.

Ir is only in works of large dimensions that the genius of Rubens is seen in its full magnificence: his faculties, as Sir Joshua Reynolds has justly observed, seem to expand with the size of his canvas. The evidence of his power, however, is less in that fluent execution with which he sweeps through an infinite series of objects, than in the grasp and comprehension with which he binds and amalgamates them into one harmonious whole. The pictures in the cathedral at Antwerp, and those painted for Catherine de' Medici, formerly in the Luxembourg, and now in the Louvre at Paris, are, perhaps, the finest examples of what Rubens was capable of accomplishing, when acting in a sphere proportioned to his capacity. The ceiling of the banqueting-house at Whitehall might once, perhaps, have competed with these extraordinary productions, until neglect and reparation had done their joint office in impairing its original beauty. In the mean time, we are happy in possessing in the National Gallery five pictures from the pencil of Rubens, which, if not of sufficient magnitude to exhibit the highest power of his genius, are nevertheless genuine and beautiful performances, and the subjects so varied as to furnish happy examples of that versatility which was his peculiar characteristic. The principal one, an allegory of Peace and War, was painted during the time that Rubens officiated in this country as envoy from Flanders, and was presented by him to Charles I. Allegories were the fashion of that day, and if those subjects had been frequently treated with the grace and perspicuity evinced in this picture, they might, perhaps,

The small picture of the "Holy Family," with two saints, is said to have been a great favourite with Rubens himself, which we readily believe, for there is nothing more charming among all his compositions. The Virgin and Child are beautifully disposed, and one of the female saints has an air even of courtly elegance. The serene and gentle character of this picture is forcibly contrasted by that of St. Bavon, (a sketch no doubt for a larger work,) which is full of variety and bustle, and admirably indicative of the times in which the event took place. A bishop, attended by his ecclesiastics, awaits to receive, but does not advance towards, the monarch, who ascends the steps of the cathedral. The latter is followed by a numerous train; everything appertaining to which, is gorgeous, chivalric, and befitting the retainers of royalty.

The scene is enlivened and embellished by a group of ladies, who stand on a canopied platform to view the ceremony, and in demonstration of the beneficence, as well as the dignity of the church, a group of indigent persons, giving a most striking variety to the scene, are gathered round the entrance, to receive what appears to be a daily dole, as an almoner is distributing it among them. The mild authority with which one of the officers in attendance reproves their importunities, is admirably expressed. The subjects of these four pictures are full of graphic interest, and Rubens has the praise of having made the most skilful use of favourable materials; but it would appear that he selected the subject of the remaining picture, a "landscape and figures," in order to display the abstract powers of his pencil in giving picturesque beauty to a scene in itself utterly devoid of interest. Here is a Dutch landscape, with its usual characteristics, a tract of flat land, made up of swamp and meadow, and intersected by rows of willows, ditches and close-cut hedges. In the foreground the objects are somewhat more varied, but even here everything has the stamp of individuality. A large tree has been blown down; on one side a fowler is taking aim at a covey of partridges, on the other we perceive a butcher's cart on its way to market. From these components, Rubens has produced a work which we can never gaze on but with renewed admiration; not that admiration merely which results from the analysis of technical skill, but we are actually exhilarated, while we look on it with the balmy and buoyant feelings excited in us during a walk in the country on a fine spring morning. Although the various objects in this picture are nowhere slurred or touched indistinctly, we do not recollect, among all the works of Rubens, one in which the general effect is more large and comprehensive.

ignorant of the usages of civilized life, and did not understand the rights of property. I will complain of your conduct," said he, "to Major Somerset, the commander of the frontier, who will soon show you the dif ference between an elephant and a deer." To this taunt Macomo replied calmly-"I know that Somerset is stronger than I am. He is an elephant, but neither I nor my father have been called deer. You say that your people are wiser than ours: you do not show it in appealing from reason to force. When you return to the Colony, the landdrost will decide between you: here it can go no further. Give him the ox," he added, "it will be better for you." The Doctor yielded.

THE WEEK.

JANUARY 1.-The birth-day of EDMUND BURKE. This
illustrious writer and orator was born at Dublin, in the
year 1730, and was a younger son of an attorney in ex-
tensive practice in that city. Being of delicate health
from his infancy, he was taught to read at home by his
mother; and was then sent to reside with his grandfather,
at his country-seat in the county of Cork.
He was put
to school at the neighbouring village, and here he began
the study of Latin. From his earliest years he was a
devoted reader. "While we were at play," his elder
brother Richard long afterwards declared, “he was
always at work." In his twelfth year, having been
brought back from his grandfather's, he was sent to the
academy of Ballitore, in the county of Carlow, con-
ducted, and, as it appears, with great ability and on an
admirable system by the Shackletons, a Quaker family.
He remained here till 1744, when he proceeded to
Trinity College, Dublin, of which he was entered a pen-
sioner. Here he took his degree of A.B. in 1748, and
that of A. M. in 1751. Meanwhile, being destined for
the English bar, he had been enrolled as a student of

AN AFRICAN JUDGE AND EUROPEAN SLAVE- the Middle Temple in 1747, and he proceeded to London

HOLDER.

[From a Correspondent.]

to keep his terms early in 1750. It has been commonly said of Burke, sometimes by way of reproach and In the year 1824, an English naturalist, in the course of sometimes by way of commendation, that he set out in a tour in Cafferland, had an opportunity of witnessing life a mere penniless adventurer. But this is quite a the justice and impartiality of the Caffer chiefs, in their mistake. His father was possessed of very considerable capacity of judges. Being dissatisfied with the conduct property, and he was never subjected while pursuing his of his slave, whom he had brought with him from the studies to the necessity of seeking a maintenance by his Cape Colony, after some altercation and the infliction of own exertions. The class of students in which he was a few blows with his sjamboc (whip of rhinoceros hide), placed at college was that next to the highest, and his he carried the man before Macomo, the head of a tribe necessary expenses there were £150 per annum. After near the river Keissi. Here the master and slave filed he commenced the study of the law, his father allowed cross bills against each other. The slave produced wit-him an annuity of £200. And it is ascertained that in nesses to prove that his master had struck and abused him without cause: the master accused the slave of laziness, insolence and disobedience, and demanded that he should be punished by a severe flogging. Macomo, after hearing both parties, informed them that in Cafferland there were no slaves; he must, therefore, consider them merely as two men who had made a bargain with each other. "Now it appears," said he to the Englishman, "that you have struck this man and otherwise illtreated him, but you can show no proof that he had injured you by offering you violence. I therefore declare your bargain at an end; he is free to go where he pleases; and you shall pay him an ox for the wrong you have done him." At this decision our countryman was highly incensed, and refused to submit. "He deserved punishment, not reward," said he, "for his insolence.' "You have not proved that," said Macomo; "but had it been so, you should have brought him to me. Why do I sit here from sun-rise to sun-set, if need be? It is to decide between man and man, in cases where their anger blinds them, and hinders their judgment. If men use their hands in secret, instead of their tongues before the judge or the old men, whose life would be worth a husk of corn?" The traveller replied that he would not argue the matter with him," for he (Macomo) was

one way or other, the sums he derived from his family in the course of his life did not amount to less than £20,000. He is by no means, therefore, to be reckoned among those persons who have had unusual difficulties to contend with in the commencement of their career. He seems to have soon become tired of the law. In 1752 or 1753 he offered himself as a candidate for the Professorship of Logic in the University of Glasgow, but was unsuccessful, a Mr. James Clow obtaining the appointment. His thoughts, however, were now entirely turned to literature and politics. Soon after this he appears to have begun to write in the newspapers and other periodical works. His first separate and avowed production, however, was his Vindication of Natural Society,' which was published in 1756. It is an ironical imitation of Lord Bolingbroke, whose style and manner of thinking are so happily mimicked, that many, when it first appeared, believed it to be a serious argument, and from his Lordship's pen. It was followed in a few months by the celebrated Inquiry into the Origin of our Ideas of the Sublime and Beautiful.' This work the author is said to have begun when he was nineteen, and to have kept by him for nearly seven years before he published it. It immediately introduced him into general notice, and to the acquaintance of many of the most distinguished literary men of the day.

Soon after this he married. For the next two years he effect produced by a passage in the speech which he appears to have written an account of the European delivered at the bar of the House of Lords on opening Settlements in America, in two volumes, published ano- the impeachment of Mr. Hastings. He was describing nymously in 1757; an Abridgement of the History of the atrocities committed by Debi Sing, alleged to be one England, from the Roman Invasion to the reign of of the agents of the accused. 'A convulsive sensation King John; and the first volume of Dodsley's Annual of horror, affright, and smothered execration,' says Mr. Register, a work which he continued to superintend Prior, pervaded all of the male part of his hearers for many years. It was in 1759 that he was made and audible sobbings and screams, attended with tears known by Lord Charlemont, to Mr. William Gerard and faintings, the female. His own feelings were Hamilton (commonly called single-speech Hamilton), scarcely less overpowering; he dropped his head upon who, on being appointed, in 1761, secretary to the Lord his hands, and for some minutes was unable to proceed; Lieutenant, took Burke with him to Ireland, in the he recovered sufficiently to go on a little further, but, capacity of his assistant. This formed the introduction being obliged to cease from speaking twice at short of the latter to public life. In 1765, on the accession to intervals, his Royal Highness the Prince of Wales, tc power of the Marquis of Rockingham, he was appointed relieve him, at length moved the adjournment of the by that minister his private secretary, and brought into House. Alluding to the close of this day, the writer of parliament for the borough of Wendover. From this the history of the trial says-' In this part of his speech time the life of Burke belongs to the general history Mr. Burke's descriptions were more vivid, more harrowof the country, and involves too extended a catalogue ing, and more horrific, than human utterance, or either of events, to be related even in the most abridged form, fact or fancy, perhaps, ever formed before. The agitawithin the limits to which we are confined. All our tion of most people was very apparent. Mrs. Sheridan readers have probably heard of the extraordinary emi- was so overpowered that she fainted; several others nence to which he attained, as a parliamentary orator. were as powerfully affected.' Mrs. Siddons is said to His opposition to the infatuated measures which led to have been one of the number. The testiand prolonged the contest with America-his advocacy of mony of the accused party himself is, perhaps, the the freedom of the press-of an improved libel-law-of strongest ever borne to the powers of any speaker of Catholic emancipation-of economical reform-of the any country. For half an hour,' said Mr. Hastings, abolition of the slave-trade-his impeachment of Mr.I looked up at the orator in a reverie of wonder; Hastings-and his denouncement of the French revolu- and during that space I actually felt myself the most tion-are some of the most memorable passages of his culpable man on earth; adding, however, but I repolitical course. Among the works which he sent to curred to my own bosom, and there found a consciousthe press may be mentioned his Thoughts on the Causes ness that consoled me under all I heard and all I sufof the present Discontents, published in 1770,- his fered.'" Speech on American Taxation, delivered 19th April, 1774,-his Speech on Economical Reform, delivered 11th February, 1780,-his Speech on retiring from the poll at Bristol, the same year,-and his Reflections on the French Revolution, published in November, 1790. Mr. Burke died on the 8th of July, 1797, in the sixty-eighth year of his age. The following notices, extracted from the account of his life by Mr. Prior, place in a striking light the powers of this wonderful man:

"What Johnson termed 'Burke's affluence of conversation,' and which he so highly prized and frequently talked of, often proved, as may be supposed, a source of mingled wonder and admiration to others. Few men of education but were impressed by it, and fewer still who had the opportunity of being in his society frequently, forgot the pleasure they had thus enjoyed. Many years after this period (1760), Mr. Burke and a friend travelling through Lichfield for the first time, stopped to change horses, when being desirous to see more of a place which had given birth to his friend Johnson than a casual glance afforded, they strolled towards the Cathedral. One of the Canons, observing two respectable strangers making inquiries of the attendants, very politely came up to offer such explanations as they desired, when a few minutes only had elapsed before the feeling of superior information on such matters, with which he had met them, became changed to something like amazement at the splendour, depth, and variety of the conversation of one of the strangers. No matter what topic started, whether architecture, antiquities, ecclesiastical history, the revenues, persecutions, or the lives of the early ornaments and leading members of the church, he touched upon them all with the readiness and accuracy of a master. They had not long separated when some friends of the Canon met him hurrying along the street: 'I have had,' said he, quite an adventure; I have been conversing for this half hour past with a man of the most extraordinary powers of mind and extent of information, which it has ever been my fortune to meet with, and I am now going to the inn to ascertain if possible who this stranger is.' **** Of the powers of his eloquence some notion may be formed from the account that is given of the

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[Portrait of Edmund Burke.]

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THIS building is the only considerable monument of the domestic architecture of the fifteenth century now remaining in London. Attention has recently been called to this interesting relic of past times, by the announcement of the formation of a committee of noblemen and gentlemen for effecting its restoration, or at least its preservation from further decay and injury, by means of a public subscription. We are glad that this step has been taken; and we trust that the liberal contributions of the lovers of our national antiquities will speedily enable the committee, in the list of which we observe the names of several persons distinguished in art and literature, to commence the prosecution of their laudable intention. The present is honourably distinguished from the last age by its regard and affection for relics of this description, which appeal with so much force to all minds of cultivation and refinement in a double character, at once as memorials of the past, and as works of art, admirable on account of their intrinsic beauty. In both these respects they form not the least valuable portion of what we may call the public inheritance of the country-of that diversified wealth with which we find the land we live in covered by the labours of the successive generations who have tenanted it before us. It is the fashion with many to speak of our ancestors as if we owed them nothing: we owe to them, in fact, whatever distinguishes the present appearance of this island from the appearance of New Zealand.

In London, especially, the preservation from ruin or demolition of such a structure as Crosby Hall, would seem to be an object well worth a little exertion and VOL. I.

cost. It is, as we have said, one of the very few ancient edifices the city now possesses; indeed the only one, we believe, which can now be pointed to as a sample of the domestic mansions of our more wealthy citizens at the era to which it belongs. The great fire in the middle of the seventeenth century swept away all the chief remains of the past that were then in existence. Most of what this devastation spared has since been gradually removed by the hand of innovation and improvement, no where so active as in this busy metropolis. It is, however, singular, and may also be considered fortunate, that notwithstanding all this change and destruction, London still possesses in Crosby Hall perhaps the finest and most magnificent specimen of her old civic palaces.

What now remains of this ancient residence occupies the western and northern fronts of the irregular quadrangle, called Crosby Square, on the east side of Bishopsgate Street, and immediately to the south of the betterknown opening of Great St. Helen's. On the west is the principal apartment, the great Banqueting Hall, measuring 55 feet in length, by 27 in breadth, while the height from the original floor to the crown of the ceiling is 40 feet. The principal ornament of this room is its noble oaken or chesnut roof, of an elliptical form, and divided in the ancient style into quadrangular compartments with pendants. It is regarded as a work of great skill and beauty, and, fortunately, it still remains nearly perfect. Between this roof and the original pavement two wooden floors have been erected at different times; and the whole space is at present divided into an upper and lower apartment. The Hall is lighted by twelve 3 D

lofty windows, six in the east and six in the west front commencing at the height of seventeen feet from the floor, and divided each into two parts by beautifully carved mullions. In the northern wall is an immense chimney, a rare, perhaps singular instance of such an accommodation in these old banqueting halls; where the fire was usually placed in the centre of the room, and the smoke allowed to escape through an opening in the roof. At the north-west corner of the Hall is a semioctagonal recess, measuring about nine feet in diameter, of the kind commonly called an oriel, of the same height with the hall, and having also a window in each of its four sides. The taste and skill of the architect have been exerted with the happiest effect in finishing both the outside and the interior of this ornamental projection. Crosby Place, as it was formerly called, seems to have originally extended round the square; but the only other part of the building which now remains is the wing, forming the north front, which consists of two apartments, one over the other, the uppermost of which has been commonly called the Council Chamber. description of these rooms, which are in a very dilapidated state, as well as for accounts of some vaults which are still to be found under the Hall and in the vicinity, we must refer to the Antiquarian and Historical Notices' lately published by Mr. Carlos, one of the committee for restoring the building.

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tenanted in succession by several wealthy merchants.
Sir John Langham, who was Lord Mayor in the time
of the Protectorate, was the last person by whom it
was used as a dwelling-house. It appears also to have
formed occasionally the residence of foreign ambassadors.
It had thus, in 1603, the honour of being occupied for a
short time by the celebrated Duke of Sully, then bearing
the name of M. de Rosny. In the latter part of the seven-
teenth century the greater portion of the building was
destroyed by an accidental fire; and in 1677 other houses,
those now occupying the site, were built on the ruins which
the fire had occasioned. In 1672 the Hall was converted
into a Presbyterian meeting house. After the dissolu-
tion of this society, another congregation of dissenters
met in it till 1778. It was afterwards let as a warehouse;
and the lease having expired last year, it is at present
untenanted.

[The following interesting Article is the substance of a Paper read
ARCTIC LAND EXPEDITION.
before the Royal Geographical Society, on 26th Nov. 1832, by
Captain BACK, R. N.]

THE public sympathy having become deeply interested in the fate of Captain Ross and his gallant companions, the object of the following paper is to lay before the Society a sketch of the plan of the expedition which has been projected for the purpose of ascertaining their fate, and enabling them, if found, to regain their native land; Crosby Place was erected soon after the year 1466, and which, there is reason to believe, will be now libeon a lease for ninety-nine years, then obtained from the rally supported by his Majesty's Government and the Prioress and Convent of St. Helen, by Sir John Crosby, public. It is generally known that Captain Ross havof whom little more is known than that he was a grocer ing, with the aid of a munificent friend, equipped the and woolman, that he attained the dignities of Alder- steam-vessel, Victory, at a very great expense, left Engman, Sheriff, and Warden of his Company, represented land in the summer of 1829, accompanied by his nephew, the city in Parliament, and, after accumulating a large Commander Ross, and a crew of eighteen able seamen. fortune in trade, died in 1475. But Crosby House de- His wish was to complete the discovery of the Northrives its chief celebrity from having, after his death, west Passage; his motive, the honest desire of the become the residence of the Duke of Gloucester, after- fame that would result from the promotion of his counwards Richard III. It is introduced as such by try's naval glory (for the parliamentary reward having Shakspeare in the interview in the first act of his play been suppressed he could derive no pecuniary advantage between the Duke and Lady Anne, and again in the from success); and his object, thus, such as a British first scene of the third act, where, in dismissing Catesby seaman might legitimately exert his energies and hazard the Duke mentions it as the place where both him- his life to attain-since the discovery of the North-west self and Buckingham would be found in the evening. Passage has been a favourite project with England for It is strange that Mr. Carlos, in a publication designed more than three centuries. In its prosecution, from to excite an interest in this old mansion, should have Sebastian Cabot downwards, a host of seamen have been fallen into the blunder of denying that the great drama- formed, who will shine, to use the emphatic words of tist had any better foundation for making Crosby Hall old Fuller, as "marine worthies" while the annals of "the scene of any of the transactions in which this naval adventure continue to be read: North America usurping and unscrupulous prince was engaged," than was thus also discovered, and the cod fishery, fur trade, some association existing in his own mind," derived, and Davis' Straits whale fishery, were laid open to Brithis writer is pleased to imagine, merely from his having tish commercial enterprise. The exertions of the governseen and admired its beauties," when " he had been ment, or of individuals, have, from time to time, been admitted on some occasion in the humble guise of a renewed to explore the passage; and with various sucplayer, to entertain the guests assembled in the ban- cess, but seldom without some progress being made; queting hall." No historical fact can be better estab-nor, although intervals of repose may occur either from lished than that of Richard's connection with this house. the public interest being exhausted by repeated failures, The old chroniclers mention it as his residence; and or its attention drawn for a time to other objects, is it Sir Thomas More expressly informs us that it was here likely that such attempts will cease until either a navihe held that secret council of his partizans the object of gable route be discovered, or its impracticability unequiwhich was to thwart the measures of the other council vocally proved. Any officer might therefore be parwhich he kept assembled elsewhere, under a show of doned for engaging, even somewhat rashly, in an entermaking preparation for the coronation of the young king. prise which has called forth the exertions and skill of a This is the double dealing to which in Shakspeare's Cabot, a Frobisher, a Davis, a Baffin, a Hudson, and play Buckingham alludes in the scene already referred a Cook; and, doubtless, when Captain Ross was orito, where he says to Catesbyginally selected by the Admiralty to renew the attempt, his heart beat high with the hope of gratifying that thirst for distinction which his subsequent conduct shows He thus retraced the course of Baffin, and brought again to our knowledge the discoveries of that adventurous seaman, which the lapse of time and the imperfections of the records of his voyage had caused to be forgotten or discredited. And, although by putting too much confidence in the reality of what proved an optical delusion,-a delusion, however, which has frequently deceived those who navigate in high latitudes,—

66

66

"We to-morrow hold divided councils,"

after having desired him to summon Lord Hastings to him to have felt.

the Tower

"To sit about the coronation."

Probably the room called the Council Chamber has derived its name from having been the scene of these dark consultations.

At the dissolution of the religious houses Crosby Place was confiscated to the crown. It was afterwards

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