omnipresent! In all the known world where are such flower forests of chesnuts? The gayest blossoms of every season gladdening the eye, and filling the air with fragrance. Beauty of scene near at hand, and stretching as far distant as the sight can reach. The lulling music of waters-the magnificent in architecturethe matchless in painting-and, best of all, the throngs of happy faces (the statist tells you they exceed thirty thousand a month in the summer), abandoned to mirth, and oblivious of dull cares, and toil left behind them! Miserable indeed the wretch whose sympathies are not touched with some of these.

"Let any wight (if such a wight there be),

To whom thy lofty towers unknown remain,
Direct his steps, fair Hampton Court, to thee,

And view thy splendid halls: then turn again

To visit each proud dome by science praised,—

For kings the rest' (he'd say), 'but thou for gods wert raised.'"

In whatever point of view one regards Hampton and its Palace, it must at once be acknowledged that within the same distance of our metropolis, we can boast of no two places possessing together half the interest that attaches to this spot.

Reflect, for a moment, on the high gratification well regulated and generous minds will receive from a visit to this classic pile and its delightful vicinage—the gratification, as already noticed, of witnessing thousands upon thousands derive from holydays spent in contemplating the beautiful in art and nature, with which Hampton Court so bounteously supplies them. To those who, wrapped up in the selfishness of exclusion, find pleasure in scenes to which the privileged classes alone can gain access, the liberal indulgence by which the public at large are admitted here may be distasteful and offensive, but luckily this is a matter of no moment, for the public good is to be infinitely preferred before the exclusive feelings of individuals. Hampton Court, its gardens, pictures, flowers, and walks now serve the purposes of a normal school, where recreation ministers to instruction, and where eye and mind are at once delighted and improved.

It is a pleasing sight to those who are not afraid to come in contact with ordinary humanity, to see the roads crowded with numbers of holiday makers on their delighted way to Hampton Court, emancipating themselves, their wives, and children for the day, from the contagion of the town, or the sensual gratification of suburban pot-houses, and devoting the few hours they may have to spare from the daily-renewing necessity of toil, to pleasures in which the intellectual predominates over the animal, and in which relaxation from labour is made subservient to the inculcation of purer tastes, and enjoyments more re fined.

We live in hopeful times, says Mr. Murray in his "Environs of London," from whom we have been just now quoting, when our palaces become places of popular resort, and when our people are found worthy of the privilege accorded them of making palaces their own. It is strange, when we pause to think upon it that this noble pile, once the retreat of the Knight Templars-where Wolsey lived in more than royal state-whence the Eighth Harry chased the country round, converting fertile plains, the property and means of sustenance for its peaceful inhabitants, into a wilderness of beasts, and birds of game - where Elizabeth called a Shakspeare to entertain her on the stage, and the First James indulged himself in profitless religious controversy-where the unhappy Charles found himself less than the servant of his subjects-where Cromwell led an unquiet life of suspicion and never-ceasing fear; the polished floors, once silent beneath the mincing steps of courtiers, are now trodden by the humblest men— the treasures of art, formerly reserved for royal eyes alone, are now gazed upon by admiring myriads-the faces of historical personages become as familiar to the vulgar as their lives and actions to the learned.

If we forget everything about Hampton Court, save its richness and merely natural beauty, we shall still find abundance to admire. The happy situation of the place, occupying a delightful peninsula, which the Thames delights almost to encircle, and which, looked at upon the map, seems a huge emerald set in silverthe mighty masses of its foliage filling up the distance of the landscape, on which ever side you cast your eye-the plains, covered with the richest verdure in one place, with the stubborn grasses intermingled with ferns and heath, where the wild deer love to haunt, in another-the magnificent colonnades of mighty chesnuts, shooting upwards millions of pyramidical cones of wax-like snowy blossoms -the huge thorn trees, veterans of centuries, filling the air almost to oppressiveness with their luscious fragrance-the green alleys, with their lengthened vistas, their verdant carpets, and their ever-changing effects of shade and sunlightthen, the intermingling song of various birds-wild creatures flitting to and frothe timid deer, the hum of bees, the wandering flight of butterflies. To these add the pure elastic air, the azure firmament overhead, or, still better, fleecy vapours now and again veiling the meridian sun, and soothing zephyrs whispering i' th' ear of earth, and you have no need either of palace or pictures for the enjoyment of a delightful day-love of nature, and a disposition to observe and study her, will serve you instead of art and architecture. Nature here builds up for you aisles and transepts, courts and halls, of her own mighty pillars, far excelling in sublimity the memorials of the magnificent Wolsey. Nature displays her cartoons for your inspection,-brilliant landscapes, before which the drawing of Raphael, the composition of Poussin, the colouring of Claude, must sink into insignificant mediocrity; and if, as in the time-honoured halls you are about to

visit, you admire the power and the munificence that gave them form and substance, you may do more here. With holier awe and worthier reverence, in this great temple, you may worship the omnipotent and the omnipresent Maker and giver of all.

It is not one summer's day, or many, that will make familiar all Hampton Court can show; aud not a summer only, but in winter; when most places are cold, and gloomy, and sad, it is warm, bright and gleeful. It has charms for all the year round; and embarrassed with its riches, the difficulty to the occasional visitor, and still more so to the visitor for a single day, is to economise strength and spirits to relish each succeeding beauty, and leave the place, not in surfeited lassitude, but with agreeable general impressions of its most remarkable features. We must, however, refer our readers to guide books for directions how to make the selections; for no hundred ordinary pages can pretend to be a history of the place, which, in fact, is the history of three centuries, the most eventful of our country. In order to give an idea, for example, of the state kept up by Wolsey, during the period of his, it will be only necessary to mention that he had two hundred and eighty silk beds in his palace for visitors alone, and that he maintained nearly one thousand servants, among whom were several lords, fifteen knights, and forty esquires. His master cook was attired daily in velvet, and wore a gold chain. Well might Dr. Johnson call it

"The liveried army, and the menial lord."

It will add to the interest of the visitor at Hampton Court Palace, if he bears in mind that it was the last instance in this country of the magnificence of the household establishment of a priest, vying with the proudest royalty itself, and of a man of sacerdotal functions holding the highest offices in state as well as in church. Here, we repeat, Wolsey lived in more than regal state; and when it is considered how many persons he had in his suite, we shall be the less surprised at the vastness of his palace..

The part of Wolsey's palace which still remains consists of the first and second quadrangles, and some small courts and passages to the right and left of them. If the original palace had five courts, which it is generally supposed to have had, it must have been nearly as large again as we see it at present. The third court next the garden was rebuilt by William the Third, and stands upon only a small part of the original site of the old palace. In looking at what remains of the latter we shall perceive an effect in the old English ecclesiastical character of building, that delights the imagination, and seems congenial with our native feeling. The small part, however, which remains of the original building can convey but a very inadequate idea of the former splendour of the place, as the apartments which are now standing are supposed to have been only used as do

mestic offices. Perhaps the best conception that can be formed of the extent of the old palace is by passing along the tennis-court lane, and inspecting the north front from the gateway to the tennis court. This is all Wolseyan, with the exception of the modern windows and a projecting building. The old chimneys may here be seen, and their ample space and solidity will allow us to form some notion of the hospitably and good cheer which took place in the Cardinal's establishment. Each of these fire-places is large enough to roast an ox, being nineteen and a half feet in width, and eight and a half feet in height. It is evident that the attendants were not allowed to enter the kitchens, as each of them has a large square opening communicating with the several passages, which was closed until the dinners were dressed, when a large wooden flap was let down, and the dishes placed upon it, which were then removed by servants to the outside. When we consider that Wolsey's palace is stated to have contained fifteen hundred rooms, we shall become persuaded that the enormous kitchens and fireplaces were not out of proportion to the number of his attendants and guests.

"This night he makes a supper, and a great one,

To many lords and ladies: there will be

The beauty of this kingdom.

That churchman bears a bounteous mind indeed,

A hand as fruitful as the land that feeds us:]

His dews fall everywhere."-KING HENRY VIII.

The right royal road to Hampton Court is by the "silent highway" of the Thames. Doubtless this was Wolsey's route from his York Palace at Whitehall hither, and the convenience of water transport must have influenced his selection of the spot as the site of the gorgeous and magnificent establishment. It is, however, a good day's journey to and from Hampton Court by the river, and leaves the visitor only an hour or two to see the palace. For an out-of-doors excursion, making the palace the goal, and seeing only its grounds, few things are pleasanter than this trip by water. But when the visit is to Hampton Court, proper and limited to a single day, the speediest way of reaching the place must be the best; for you will have enough to do there without thinking of what may be interesting on the route thither. But we refrain from going farther into econonomical directions, whether as may respect the husbanding of time, or the contents of your pocket, or the article of comfort. Railway and omnibus, inn and hotel must be inquired into for these ends.

SUPERSTITIONS OF SPAIN.

Every country has its proverbs, adages, and superstitions. In no civilized part of Europe are these more numerous than in Spain. It is not our intention to enter largely upon the subject, as volumes would scarcely suffice to embrace it fully, or trace its sources. The following popular superstitions pervade all classes of the Spanish people, and may not be generally known in England.

All persons born in Spain on Good Friday are believed to possess the intuitive faculty of seeing the apparitions of those who have been assassinated, or have perished unfairly by steel. This strange gift is said to have been exercised by Philip the Fourth, who, in his infancy, gave some marvellous tokens of this supposed power. Another much more valuable gift was bestowed, according to the same credence, this was, that all persons born on Good Friday possessed the prerogative of passing through fire and flames unscathed.

The “mal dos ojos” (evil eye) is another strongly prevailing superstition. It is generally believed by the lower classes of Spaniards and many of the higher grades of life, that certain persons have the power conferred on them of casting an evil eye on whom they please-that its fatal influence falls indifferently on all they gaze upon, and without its being exercised as an act of revenge towards any particular object, or in consequence of any personal dislike. Mr. de Bruna, who, within a few years collected many interesting facts respecting the history, manners, and habits of the Spanish people, had pointed to him, at Madrid, a beggar who always wore a black patch over his left eye, which he never removed -that eye being an evil eye, which was the hereditary gift of his family, of such a fatal power that it was believed to occasion death when fixed upon any one.

Much has been written on the subject of the fingers of the hand, and the belief of the Arab on that subject. These superstitious ideas remain undiminished to the present day in their Spanish descendants.. A young woman meeting an old one with whom she is unacquainted, or whose appearance looks witch liké, directly thrusts her thumb between the middle and fore finger of her left hand, and holding it towards the suspected party, says, toma la maro (here's my handor, look at my hand-or, take my hand). If the person to whom this is said answers without hesitation, Dios te bendiga! (God bless thee), all is as it should be with the bewitching old woman; but if she for a moment hesitates the consequences may prove fatal to the poor creature, as she would most certainly be hunted and maltreated like a wild beast.

The moors, from whom nearly all these superstitions are handed down, attribute several mysterious significations of the hand. In one sense it signified