On my way to town I rested for a few hours very agreeably beneath the roof of a respected friend, since deceased, near Hounslow, Joseph Slater, Esq. who, together with his lady and numerous family, were here secluded from the noise and bustle of the adjacent metropolis

'Tis pleasant, through the loop-holes of retreat,
To peep at such a world; to see the stir

Of the great Babel, and not feel the crowd;
To hear the roar she sends through all her gates,
At a safe distance, where the dying sound
Falls a soft murmur on th' uninjur'd ear.

COWPER.

His three sons, pupils of mine, are artists of considerable taste, and their merit will secure to them the patronage of the more enlightened portion of the fashionable world.

Crossing the country from hence to Beaconsfield, I was pleased with the appearance of nature, though nothing occurred which attracted my attention. BEACONSFIELD is a small town, with a neat church, and several houses of respectability. In its vicinity is the seat of the late Edmund Burke, Esq. an extraordinary character, considered either in a literary or political point of view. He was a man of exquisite genius, and his writings abound with the finest specimens of oratory. His work on the Beautiful and Sublime, thought indeed to be more ingenious than solid, must be pronounced a very entertaining piece of composition. Of his political productions readers will judge differently, according to the parties which they have joined; but even those who lament the complexion of his later writings, confess that his mind displayed to the

last marks of a vigorous imagination, and of an unimpoverished fertility. He died at Beaconsfield, July, 1797, as they were carrying him from his chair to his bed. It was supposed that the death of a favourite son accelerated his dissolution. But a few months before his decease he writes concerning this event in language indicative of that grief which he felt on the occasion:-"The storm (says he) has gone over me, and I lie like one of those old oaks which the late hurricane has scat

tered about me. I am stripped of all my honours! I am torn up by the roots, and lie prostrated on the earth!" Gazing upon the spot where he lies interred, and impressed with the silence which reigned around, these lines occurred to me:

Great man of LANGUAGE! whence this mighty change-
This dumb despair, and drooping of the head?
Though strong persuasion hung upon thy lip,
And sly insinuation's softer arts

In ambush lay upon thy flowing tongue-
Alas, how fallen! Thick mists and silence
Rest, like a weary cloud, upon thy breast.

BLAIR.

A neat monument, with a plain inscription, is erected to his memory.

In the church-yard is to be seen, encircled with iron rails, the tomb of Waller, the poet, and also the politician, whose versatile history at once amuses and instructs posterity. He died at Beaconsfield of a dropsy, October, 1687. The preface to his poems says, that "he was the parent of English verse, and the first who shewed us our tongue had beauty and numbers in it. Our language owes

more to him than the French does to Cardinal Richlieu and the whole academy. The tongue came into his hands like a rough diamond; he polished it first, and to that degree, that all artists since him have admired the workmanship, without pretending to mend it." Akenside gives a characteristic description of Waller's poetry, which will be recognised by all who are familiar with his writings :

Waller longs

All on the margin of some flow'ry stream
To spread his careless limbs amid the cool
Of plantane shades; and to the list'ning deer
The tale of slighted vows, and love's disdain,
Resound soft warbling all the live-long day;
Consenting zephyr sighs, the weeping rill
Joins in his plaint melodious-mute the groves;
And hill and dale with all their echoes mourn !

In passing through the retired village of St. Giles Chalfont, I could not help visiting the house whither the GREAT MILTON retired from the plague, then raging in the metropolis. The Rev. Mr. P. accompanied me to the house, which is small, and is at present in a ruinous condition. It is inhabited by a poor family, who shewed me a closet which they called Milton's study; where he, probably, wrote Paradise Regained. Elwood, the quaker, suggested the idea of such a work just before he came to Chalfont, and the poet presented him with it on his return to London. Over the entrance of the house arms are affixed; from this circumstance, and some others mentioned to me,

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it is believed that it was, at the time of Milton's residence, one of the neatest houses in the village. Elwood indeed calls it a pretty box; and even now. it has the appearance of having once possessed respectability. In the church lie the remains of two public characters, Dr. Hare, bishop of Chichester, whose pamphlet on Studying the Scriptures reflects honour on his memory; and Sir Hugh Palliser, whose squabble with Admiral Keppel adds no lustre to the page of British history.

We next reached Uxbridge, a town full of inns, being the first post-stage from London to Oxford. It is situated on the river Colne, and well inhabited. Here Charles the first entered into a treaty with a Committee of the Parliament, 1644, known by the name of the Uxbridge Treaty. In the vicinity of the town are the remains of a camp, supposed to have been raised by the Britons when the Romans invaded this island.

Harrow on the Hill is seen on the left of the road to London. The spire of the church excites notice from almost every part of the country. Its school has been celebrated, having sent forth excellent scholars; and among the rest Sir William Jones, who is the ornament and glory of our country. At this place it was (according to Lord Teignmouth) that "he invented a political play,

* See also the Life of Milton, prefixed to my Edition of the Paradise Lost, accompanied by an Abridgment of Bishop Newton's Notes, with Engravings and Illustrations, for the Improvement of Young People,

in which Dr. William Bennet, Bishop of Cloyne, and the celebrated Dr. Parr, were his principal associates. They divided the fields in the neighbourhood of Harrow according to a map of Greece, into states and kingdoms; each fixed upon one as his dominions, and assumed an ancient name. Some of their school-fellows consented to be styled barbarians, who were to invade their territories and attack their hillocks, which were denominated fortresses. The chiefs vigorously defended their respective domains against the incursions of the enemy: and in these imitative wars the young statesmen held councils, made vehe ment harangues, and composed memorials; all, doubtless, were boyish, but calculated to fill their minds with ideas of legislation and civil govern ment."

The large village of Paddington, distinguished by so many new buildings, announces our approach to the metropolis. The canal, lately opened between this place and Uxbridge, will be found to have many advantages. Its passage-boat, fully laden, excites a smile; the representation of it, in a late Exhibition, reminded me of Noah's ark, within whose sides were stowed animals of every description.

Passing through Tyburn Turnpike, near which hundreds have been immolated to the avenging justice of their country, we entered Oxford-street, and soon arrived at the place of our destination.

Upon reaching Islington, after so circuitous a journey, it was impossible for me not to feel grate