lioned windows of the ordinary Tudor type, many corners, and doors and floors of oak; but curious as this old house now is, it must have been more so in former times, for many of its irregularities have been cleared away. There were numerous and strange projections, and tall stacks of chimneys contrived to mask secret chambers and hiding-places; there were trapdoors, narrow recesses, and ingenious cabinets and drawers for the deposit of papers. At the west end of the top of the house is a room partly in the roof, which is supposed to have been used as a chapel, up one side of which passes the afore-mentioned huge chimney shaft, which at one time contained a secret staircase.

In 1581 the house came into the possession (by marriage) of Thomas Mulso, whose son William built the second, or Elizabethan, portion, making the new house, together with the old part, to form the letter

E

a common arrangement at that time with loyal gentlemen. The old house corresponds with the lowest of the three limbs of the letter; the porch is the short central limb. Thus "Gotehurst changed its front," "the former Tudor house became a wing," and the new façade exhibited its Gothic gables and much admired beauties of Italian architecture.

In 1596 Mary Mulso, heiress, the daughter of William Mulso, married the hapless Everard Digby, afterwards knighted, who had the misfortune to be drawn into the Gunpowder Plot, and who suffered on the scaffold. He was succeeded by his son, the gifted, mystical, and fantastic Sir Kenelm, author of " Private Memoirs," written for his wife, the beautiful Anastasia,

and many other works. In 1704 the estate was sold to Mr. George Wrighte, son of Sir Nathan Wrighte, Lord Keeper to Queen Anne. In 1725 Wrighte made another addition to the house, built in the Queen Anne style. This part, which consists of the dining-room below, the ball-room above, and the grand staircase, is at the back of Mulso's main building, filling up the

space at the back of the E between the two large

limbs.

Gayhurst passed from the Wrighte family in 1830. It now belongs to James William Carlisle, Esq., who purchased it in 1882.

The church, which, as Cowper observes, stands in the garden, was rebuilt by George Wrighte (17241728). It is in the Grecian style, with a square tower at the west end, surmounted by a cupola and four urns, one at each angle; and is historically interesting as being in all probability the last of the works of Sir Christopher Wren. The eminent architect, although he gave the plans for the church, never saw it finished, as he died in 1723, in his ninety-second year.

68. Newton Removes to London.-January, 1780.

Newton's ministry at Olney now drew to a close. At this period the right of presentation to the living of St. Mary Woolnoth, in the city of London, was vested in his friend and patron, Mr. John Thornton, who, feeling the importance of fixing a sound and able preacher in such a post, pressed the living on Newton;

and the latter, on September 21, 1779, wrote to Bull: My race at Olney is nearly finished; I am about to form a connection for life with one Mary Woolnoth, a reputed London saint in Lombard Street." His last sermon in Olney, previous to his departure for London, was preached on Tuesday evening, January II, 1780.

As might be expected, the loss of Newton was deeply regretted by many in Olney. Cowper especially greatly missed him. The vicarage seemed a melancholy object; and as he walked in the garden in the evening it seemed lonely to think that when the smoke issued from the study chimney it was no longer a sign that Newton was there. And Newton himself, notwithstanding the unpleasant circumstances that preceded his removal, did not leave without considerable regret the town for which he had so long retained an affection, and to which he so frequently alludes as "dear Olney."

Referring to this event, Mrs. Oliphant says: "The effect of this departure on Cowper was miraculous; whether Newton, in his intense enthusiasm, miscalculated his friend's powers, or whether he was only ignorant of the delicate nature of the mind on which he was working, it is evident that the constant intercourse with him, aided, perhaps, by the wearying sameness of the life, had an oppressive and crushing effect upon Cowper." And very naturally so. Would not anybody else have felt the same? To be constantly and entirely in the society of any one man, or even any two or three, very soon becomes intolerable. The same topics, the same ideas, the same arguments-for how