Kensington, they should not meet him at all—a proof of the frequency of these occurrences in that neighbourhood. Truly while such tricks were played in the park by noblemen and gentlemen in the daytime, and by foot-pads at night, the propinquity of the place of execution at Tyburn to the place of gaiety in the Ring was quite as desirable as it seems upon first thought anomalous.

The Ring we have already observed was the first part of the park taken possession of by the gay world. Evelyn's complaint of the exaction of the "sordid fellow who had purchased it of the state, as they are called," seems to imply that it had been a resort for horsemen and people in carriages previous to 1653. He more than once notes a visit to Hyde Park, "where was his Majesty and abundance of gallantry." The sight-seeing Pepys, too, appears from his journal, as might have been anticipated, to have been a frequent visitant. We have already seen how dexterously he "did take notice of Mr. Cutler, the merchant," to save himself the expense of coach-hire; and heard the melodious sigh he breathed on account of his inability to be there on May-day. His Paul Pry disposition has led him to leave on record that on the 4th of April, 1663, he went "after dinner to Hide Parke; at the parke was the King, and in another coach my Lady Castlemaine, they greeting one another at every turn." Nor must we pass over in silence his own equestrian feats, worthy of his tailor-sire:-" 1662, December 22. [Followed the Duke and Mr. Coventry into St. James's Park], and in the park Mr. Coventry's people having a horse ready for me (so fine a one that I was almost afraid to get upon him, but I did, and found myself more feared than hurt), and followed the Duke and some of his people to Hide Parke." The grave Etherege thought a ride in Hyde Park on the whole more conducive to morality than a walk in the Mall:—

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Young Bellair. Most people prefer Hyde Park to this place.

"Harriet. It has the better reputation, I confess; but I abominate the dull diversions there: the formal bows, the affected smiles, the silly by-words, and amorous tweers in passing. Here one meets with a little conversation now and then.

"Y. Bell. These conversations have been fatal to some of your sex, madam. "Har. It may be so because some who want temper have been undone by gaming, must others who have it wholly deny themselves the pleasure of play?"

After King William took up his abode in Kensington palace, a court end of the town gathered around it. The praises of Kensington Gardens, as they appeared in the days of Queen Anne, by Tickell and Addison, have already been alluded to. The large gardens laid out by Queen Caroline were opened to the public on Saturdays, when the king and court went to Richmond. All visitors, however, were required to appear in full dress, which must have lent a stately and recherché character to the scene. These occasional glimpses into the seclusion of sovereigns who were foreigners in the land they reigned over, contrast characteristically with the publicity-courting manners of the time of Charles II. The formal solitudes of Kensington, remote from the brilliant gaiety of the Ring and Mall, mark a new and widely different era. St. James's Park was the appropriate locality of a court in which Etherege, Suckling, Sedley, and Buckingham dangled. The umbrageous shades of Kensington, into which the clatter of the gaudy equipages at the further end of the park penetrated "like notes by distance made

more sweet," was the equally appropriate retirement of a court, the type of whose literary characters was Sir Richard Blackmore, and from which the light graces of Pope kept at a distance. They were, however, not an unamiable race; these German sovereigns, as they could tell who were admitted to their society. Lady Mary Wortley Montagu knew that George I. could appreciate in his own quiet way a pretty face and lively disposition. A couple of anecdotes somewhere told of George II. have a bearing on our subject, and leave a favourable impression of a King of whose character ostentation formed no part :-" His Majesty came one day to the Richmond Gardens, and finding the gates of them locked, while some decently dressed persons were standing on the outside, called for the head gardener and told him to open the door immediately: My subjects,' added he, 'walk where they please.' The same gardener complaining to him one day that the company in Richmond Gardens had taken up some of the flower roots and shrubs that were planted there, his only reply was, 'Plant more, you blockhead.' ”

When the court ceased to reside at Kensington, the gardens were thrown entirely open. They still, however, retain so much of their original secluded character that they are impervious to horses and equipages. Between their influence and that of the drive, the whole park has been drawn into the vortex of gaiety. Its eastern extremity, except along the Serpentine, still retains a homely character, contrasting with that which St. James's Park has long worn, and the Green Park is now assuming. It is questionable whether any attempt to make it finer would improve it. The effect produced by the swift crossing and re-crossing of equipages, and the passage of horsemen—the opportunity of mingling with the crowd of Sunday loungers and country cousins congregated to catch a glimpse of the leading characters of the day, or determine the fashionable shade for demisaison trousers, constitute the attraction of the park. The living contents throw the scenery amid which they move into the shade. The plainness of the park, too, makes it perhaps a more fitting vestibule to the more ornamented gardens at its west end.

Having ventured to point out the most eligible method of entering the Green Park and St. James's, we may do the same office for the visitants of Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens. Enter from Grosvenor Gate. After crossing the drive, if your object is to see the company, walk first along the footpath, in the direction of Hyde Park Corner, where Apsley House now stands and the Parliamentary fort once stood; then returning, extend your lounge on the other side till you reach Cumberland Gate, near where the elms of Tyburn witnessed the execution of the "gentle Mortimer;" and where, in after days, terminated the walk prescribed by way of penance to the Queen of Charles I. by her Confessor, and the less voluntary excursions of many offenders against the law; and where an iron plate, bearing the inscription " Here stood Tyburn turnpike," marks the last earthly resting-place of Oliver Cromwell. Walk backwards and forwards along this beat, like a wild beast in its cage, till satiated with the sight. [N. B. Do not forget to admire the little carriages for children, drawn by goats, which have a stand near Cumberland Gate, as donkeys for juvenile equestrians have on Hampstead Heath.] Next cross the park from Grosvenor Gate to the vestiges of the Ring, which scene of the gallantry of Charles II. you will in all probability find occupied by half-a-dozen little chimney-sweeps playing at pitchand-toss. Advance in the same direction till midway between the Ring and the

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farm-house, and you stand on the spot which witnessed the tragedy described by Swift in the passage quoted above from his Journal to Stella.' Here turn down towards the Serpentine, and in passing admire the old elm-old amid an aged brotherhood, of which a representation is here inserted; it served for many years

as the stall of a humorous cobbler. Then passing along the edge of the Serpentine, hasten to reach the centre of the bridge which crosses it, and there

allow your eyes to wander across the water to the gateways admitting to Hyde Park and Constitution Hill, and behind them to the towers of Westminster Abbey. This is also a favourable spot for a morning or mid-day peep into Kensington Gardens. It is a curious feeling with which one amid the freshness of a spring or summer's morning watches the boatman of the Humane Society slowly oaring his way across the "river," sparkling in the early sun, as if in quest of those who may have availed themselves of the silence of night to terminate their earthly sufferings in the water. It reminds one of the horrible grotesque of the inscription below a plate of Rosamond's Pond, which we quoted when talking of that scene. Once in Kensington Gardens, you cannot go wrong. Ramble deviously on along the vistas and through the thickets, now surrounded by nibbling sheep, now eyeing the gambols of the squirrel, till you come into the airy space surrounded by the palace, the banqueting-house of Queen Anne, and stately trees, where a still pond lies mirroring the soft blue sky.*

* Hyde Park, the Green and St. James's Parks, may be regarded as forming part of an uninterrupted space of open pleasure-ground. This is not so apparent now that they only touch with their angles, but it was otherwise before the ground on which Apsley House and Hamilton Place stand was filched from Hyde Park. Even yet the isthmus which connects them, where Hyde Park Gate and the gate at the top of Constitution Hill front each other, is only attenuated, not intersected. They have moreover since the Revolution been invariably intrusted to the care of the same ranger. To remind the reader of their continuity, a plan of old St. James's Park, in which the position of Hyde Park Corner is indicated, is subjoined.

4. THE REGENT'S PARK.

The Regent's Park lies at the south foot of the conical eminence called Primrose Hill, which is connected by a ridge somewhat lower than its summit with the higher eminence of Hampstead to the north. On the west side of Primrose Hill a small stream is formed from the drainings of several springs, nearly at the same elevation as the connecting ridge, which originally flowed in a southern direction across what is now the Regent's Park, to the west side of Mary bone workhouse; thence in a direction slightly to the east of south between Manchester Square and the High Street of Mary bone, Grosvenor Square, and Hanover Square, to the mews between Bond Street and Berkeley Square; thence turning to the west of south, it crossed the lower part of Berkeley Square, and entering the Green Park a little to the east of the Ranger's house, crossed what was once the site of the Mulberry Garden, now the Garden of Buckingham Palace, and Tothill Fields, to the Thames. This is the celebrated rivulet Ay-bourne or Tybourne, from which, what has been called in later days the parish and manor of Mary-le-bone, or Marybone, took their original name. The ancient Manor-house of Mary bone stood opposite the church. In the time of Queen Elizabeth it was in the possession of the Crown, and mention is made of a stag having on one occasion been hunted within the pale of the park attached to it for the amusement of the Russian Ambassadors. A part of the manor has ever since remained in the Crown. Out of this and some neighbouring fields, purchased for the purpose, was constructed the Park, which, by its name, reminds us of its having been projected and laid out during the Regency.

The south side of the Regent's Park is about half a mile in length, and parallel to the New Road, which is to the south of it. The east side, nearly at right angles to the south side, extends northward to Gloucester Gate, a distance of almost three-quarters of a mile. The west side, forming an oblique angle with the south side, extends in a direction west of north to Hanover Gate, a distance of half a mile. The northern terminations of the east and west sides are connected by an irregular curve nearly coinciding with the sweep of the Regent's Canal, which passes along and within the northern boundary of the park. A sheet of water extends from Hanover Gate in a south-east direction parallel to the west side of the park, and curving round at a south-west angle, continues in a direction parallel to the south side to about the middle of it. Opposite the middle of the west side an arm of this sheet of water extends at right angles to the very centre of the park. The bottom of the valley, through which Tyburn rivulet flowed in days of old, stretches from its termination up to Primrose Hill, which is nearly due north of it. Nearly two-thirds of the park, forming an oblong parallelogram, slope down on the castern side of the valley to the former channel of the stream