The

in the Tatler' celebrated "Don Saltero's Coffeehouse" in Cheyne Walk, of which the shadow still occupies the old locality. Many distinguished persons have resided in Cheyne Walk, and some in our own day, for whose sakes a future generation may visit it. Proceeding onwards we soon reach the Botanic Garden of the Apothecaries' Company, famed for its officinal plants, and for its cedars; in the centre is a statue, by Rysbrack, of Sir Hans Sloane, the founder of the garden and donor of the site. Just beyond is Chelsea Hospital, one of the buildings which confer renown on our river, and, as an institution, honour on the country. It is needless here to dwell on a place so well known. reader no doubt remembers that it was erected by Charles II. on the site of "Controversy College," and that Sir Christopher Wren was the architect. He may believe, if he pleases, that it owes its foundation to Nell Gwynn, though there really does not seem to be any better ground for the tradition than the improbability of the Merry Monarch being induced to do so noble a deed, except by the solicitation of a courtesan- and on the whole, the English lady was the most likely one of his seraglio to make the suggestion. But he should not forget the more probable statement that the true originator of the plan was Sir Stephen Fox, who also contributed 15,000l. towards the cost. The building itself is not too ornamental for its purpose, and is sufficiently stately and imposing. With its battered veterans loitering in the sunshine about it, Chelsea Hospital is an inspiriting spectacle; and Chelsea Hospital ought not to be named without honourable mention of its admirable supplement, the Military Asylum.

VOL. II.

L

*

But we must hasten on. Just beyond the Hospital is the place where once were the Ranelagh Gardens-so familiar to every reader of our "polite literature," and so charming a spot in the eyes of the beaux and the belles of a past age. Chelsea was altogether a popular locality in the days of coffee-houses, breakfast-gardens, bun-houses, and other forgotten places of amusement and resort. Without even casting a glance towards Belgravia, we may pass under Vauxhall Bridge, and hasten to terminate this stage of our ramble. Vauxhall Gardens might well tempt us to talk over their departed glories, but gas-works fright us from the shore. From the dismal Penitentiary on the opposite bank we gladly avert our eyes. If aught

could tempt us now to turn aside for a few moments, it would be Lambeth Palace with its many memories, and various points of interest. Just a glance we must take into the venerable and picturesque court-yard, with its fine old Gate-house and Great Hall. This hall is a noticeable room, of goodly proportions, and it has an open timber roof of rather unusual and very good design. The Guard-room with its high pointed roof is another curious architectural feature. So too is the Chapel with its crypt. But the most remarkable is the Lollards' Tower, of which the grim exterior so well accords with its grim associations. The Lollards' Prison is in this tower. The part of the edifice which forms the residence of the Archbishops of Canterbury is chiefly recent. The noble library,

* Our river itself, it will be remembered, had its floating coffee houses in the palmy days of those favourite haunts of wits and politicians.

with its valuable manuscripts and archiepiscopal register, is of universal fame.

From Bishops' Walk a very good general view of the New Houses of Parliament (or Palace of Westminster, if that is to be its title) may be obtained in connexion with Westminster Abbey. And here (or from the river in this direction) it will be seen why Mr. Barry proposes to carry up a lofty and massive tower at the west end of his building. He evidently intends the Victoria Tower to be the grand central point of the composition, when the new palace shall be seen grouped along with the Abbey-whose lofty roof and towers would else overbalance the lower mass of the new structure. The architect has of late had to bear many rough attacks; but so had Wren while building St. Paul's Cathedral, and so had the architect of every great work during its erection ;—and certain senators, who have been foremost among the objectors, by their amazing exhibitions of æsthetic criticism, seem chiefly to have designed to set their sails to catch a passing breath of popular applause, though they may also succeed in providing for themselves a place in the history of this edifice, similar to that which other critics of like knowledge and profundity have won in earlier records. What this building may be it is yet perhaps too soon to predicate; but we have reason, from what has been accomplished, as well in the interior as externally, to hope and expect that it will convey to posterity a worthy example of the art of the middle of the nineteenth century.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE ESTUARY.

"MATTER grows under one's hands"-says Sterne "Let no man say, 'Come-I'll write a duodecimo."" It is certainly a dangerous undertaking. Ten to one he will find, long before his task is ended, that he has written an octavo. I thought to have strolled down the Thames as far as Westminster, in the compass of little more than half this second volume ;-then, "skipping" the huge city (which is no place to ramble in-though very instructive to explore), to have dropped at ease down the lower reaches of the river, and just hauled ashore to inspect whatever seemed to require inspection. But the reader has seen how, after quitting the rural parts, I have hurried over the places within every one's reach; and yet while already beyond the proper limits of the volume, all "below bridge" is untouched. To enter into an examination of any new locality now, would plainly extend this volume to an inconvenient size --and of course another is not to be dreamt of. You, gentle reader, will be glad to get to the end of the Ramble-and so, I am sure, shall I.

The Ramble is in fact ended here. London, as has been said, is altogether out of the question-and below London the width of the river makes a ramble by it impossible. We will therefore, if you