attend the speeches at Eton, as I wish from time to time to show a regard for the education of youth, on which most essentially depends my hopes of an advantageous change in the manners of the nation. You may easily imagine that I am not a little anxious for the next week, when Frederick will return, from whom I have great reason to expect much comfort. The accounts of the three at Gottingen are very favourable: the youngest has written to me to express a wish to be publicly examined by the two curators of that university on the commemoration in September, when it will have subsisted fifty years. I have taken the hint, and have directed all three to be examined on that solemn occasion. I ever remain, my good lord, Yours most affectionately, GEORGE R. The Lord Bishop of Worcester, Hartlebury Castle. The seven succeeding letters call for no comment. Windsor, the 30th, Feb. 1787. MY LORD, AS I am perfectly unacquainted with the name of the college, in where young Griffith pursued his studies, and therefore less capable of applying to any body about his character, I take the liberty of making him the bearer of this letter, in order that he may answer for himself, totally relying on your goodness that in case he should, after enquiry, not be found what he ought to be, you will forget the application entirely. All I know of him is, that he bears the character of a modest and sober young man, that he behaved extremely well to his mother, who was the Duke of York's nurse, and that he is desirous of being employed in his profession whenever he can. I will now only add, my thanks for your kindness in this affair, and I rejoice to hear that you are a little better, the continuance of which nobody can more sincerely wish than your friend, To the Bishop of Worcester. CHARLOTTE. MY LORD, I never wished so much to exercise my power and commands as to day, but I hope you will believe me, when I say, that this desire does not arise from any tyrannical inclination, but from a real regard for you. The wintery feel of this day makes me desirous of preventing your exposing yourself to-morrow morning at court, where I could only see, but not enjoy your company, which pleasure I beg to have any other day, when less inconvenient and less pernicious to your health. Queen's House, the 17th of January, 1788. To the Bishop of Worcester. CHARLOTTE. G. R. Slo, 3 o'clock. MADAM,-I cannot express the sense I have of your Majesty's gracious command to me not to appear at court to-morrow. But for this once, I hope your Majesty will pardon me, if I am not inclined to yield obedience to it. I have been so well as to take an airing this day, which occasioned me to be from home when the messenger came. I will, therefore, with your Majesty's good leave, attempt to join my brethren to-morrow in the joyful office of the day; and I assure myself the occasion will give me spirits enough to go through it without inconvenience—only it is possible, Madam, I may so far take the benefit of your Majesty's indulgence as not to venture into the crowded drawing-room afterwards. But even this will be a liberty I shall allow myself very unwillingly. I am, with all possible respect, Madam, Your Majesty's most obliged and most obedient servant, R. W. Windsor, June 8th, 1788. MY GOOD LORD,-Having had rather a smart bilious attack, which, by the goodness of Divine Providence, is quite removed, Sir George Baker has strongly recommended to me the going for a month to Cheltenham, as he thinks that water efficacious on such occasions, and that he thinks an absence from London will keep me free from certain fatigues that attend long audiences: I shall therefore go there on Saturday. I am certain you know the regard that both the queen and I have for you, and that it will be peculiarly agreeable to us to see you at Hartlebury. I shall certainly omit the waters some morning to undertake so charming a party: but that you may know the whole of my schemes, besides getting that day a breakfast there, I mean to remind you that feeding the hungry is among the Christian duties, and that therefore, when I shall visit the cathedral on the day of the sermon for the benefit of the children of the clergy of the three choirs, which Dr. Langford, as one of the stewards, will get advanced to Wednesday the 6th of August (as I shall return on the 10th to Windsor),-I shall hope to have a little cold meat at your palace before I return to Cheltenham on Friday the 8th. I shall also come to the performance of the "Messiah," and shall hope to have the same hospitable assistance; both days I shall come to the episcopal palace sufficiently early that I may from thence be in the cathedral by the time appointed for the performances in the church. The post waits for my letter, I therefore can only add that I ever remain, with true regard and, I may say, affection, My good lord, truly your good friend, To the Right Reverend the Lord Bishop of Worcester, GEORGE R. Cheltenham, July 25th, 1788. MY GOOD LORD,-Imagining you would like to hear how the visit to Gloucester had succeeded, I deferred writing till I returned from thence. It is impossible for more propriety to have been shown than both by the bishop and Mr. Holdfast. His speech in his own name and that of the dean and chapter and clergy of the diocese was very proper, and he seemed not to object to my having an answer. I thought it right to command the dean and chapter for the new regulation, by which a more constant attendance is required, and hoping that it would stimulate the rest of the clergy to what is so essential a part of their duty. The cathedral is truly beautiful. I am to attend Divine service there on Sunday. To-morrow is the visit to Croombe, which enables me to fix on Saturday, the 2nd of August, for visiting Hartlebury Castle, where any arrangements for the 6th at Worcester may be explained. All here are well, and insisted on seeing yesterday the room Dr. Hurd used to inhabit at Gloucester: the bishop was obliged to explain Lord Mansfield's prediction on the mitre over the chimney. Had they always been so properly bestowed, the dignity of the Church would have prevented the multitude of sectaries. Believe me ever your most affectionate friend, To the Lord Bishop of Worcester, Hartlebury Castle. GEORGE R. MY LORD,-When I was last night with the king, he inquired very anxiously after you, and seemed pleased to hear of your having been at Kew to inform ourself after him. He also gave me the sermon for you of Mr. Thomas Willis, and ordered me to send it as soon as possible, and to express how much he wished to know your opinion about it. I am likewise to introduce this new acquaintance of ours to you, which I shall do by a letter through him, and I hope, nay, I am pretty sure that you will like him, as he really is a very modest man, and by his conduct in this house gains every body's approbation. I am sorry to hear that your visit at Kew should have proved so painful to you as to give you the gout, but hope to hear that it is not a very severe attack. CHARLOTTE. MY GOOD LORD,-This letter was wrote yesterday, but no opportunity found to send it; the consequence of which is that the sermon is brought by its author, whom I hope you will approve of. Kew, the 7th Feb. 1789. MY LORD,-The bearer of this is the young man in whose behalf you spoke to the Bishop of Bath and Wells. Would you be so kind, with your usual goodness, to direct him what further steps he must take to be introduced to the bishop, and also to give him good advice about his future conduct in life. In doing that you will greatly oblige Queen's House, the 8th of April, 1789. Your sincere friend, 339 THE CARVED CABINET OF MAX OF BRUGES. BY MISS COSTELLO, AUTHOR OF "CLARA FANE." WHEN, at the beginning of June, I set out, like a traveller in the eighteenth century who records the same object as mine, on the same coast of Sussex, I scarcely expected to be repaid for following his footsteps. "Proceeding," he says, " along the shore in quest of a house, I came to Southwick village, where there is a harbour for ships to ride in, going or coming into the river, where probably the Portus Adurni of the Romans was, as a village near has the name of Portslade." Whether the worthy adventurer of a century since succeeded in discovering a rural retreat in which to hide him from the glare of the 'garish eye of day,' he does not go on to inform us, but if he had done so, I am much inclined to think he would have fixed on precisely the same locality, and probably the same tenement, as that which received me, a wanderer in search of the picturesque. That any one should indulge in so idle a dream as the hope of finding rural beauty four miles from Brighton, and scarcely two from the ugly port of Shoreham, will naturally excite surprise; but still more surprising is the fact that it was found without further looking after. Whether a remarkable season of redundant foliage had clothed the trees with more than usual beauty, and their close concealment had more than usually attracted the birds, certain it is that Southwick shone in my sight like an oasis in the desert. Perhaps my eyes, like those of Catherine, had "So long been dazzled by the sun, That ev'ry thing I looked on seemed green," and thus I required to go no further, but determined to set up my summer rest, within sight of one of the prettiest little shingle spires, surmounting a square Norman tower, that can be found anywhere. A curious furze hedge, of ingenious construction, attracted my attention, as I wandered through the village of Southwick, and, following it for a little distance, I reached a rustic gate which led me, between thick shrubs, by a narrow path, to an antique house faced with grey stone, and half covered, from the ground to the roof, with pale roses, which grew at their will, and seemed little indebted to the gardener's care. There was an air of quiet, of silence, of antique comfort, about the place, which at once succeeded in arresting me, and, without further question, here I resolved to take up my residence for the brief time that my restless star ever allows me to remain in one spot. From that moment I found myself in as deep seclusion as if I had sought solitude in the distant valleys of Brittany, or North Wales, and but for the occasional booming of the sea when the wind was higher than usual, and the tides were "Pressed by the moon, mute arbitress," I might have forgotten how near my dwelling was to the shore. A continual chorus of birds, however, "throstle, thrush, and nightin VOL. XXVI. C C gale," enlivened my retreat, and the sharp, impatient note of the peacock sometimes broke the stillness, as that beautiful and vain coquette in feathers for the bird is always represented as female by the poets of the East, who understand these things-swept with dignified demeanour across the lawn which spread before my windows. To those who are not aware of the cause of the peacock's cry, it may pass as any other sound, but to the initiated there is more in it than meets the ear. It is recorded in Persian lore, that this lovely creature possesses a fatal knowledge of former wickedness, when in a human shape, and is continually reminded of her crimes when she looks upon her ugly legs; it is then, that, horrified with the thronging memories that oppress her, she lifts up her voice and laments in those shrill strains which disturb the ear from afar. It is in vain that she tries to forget her grief in her pride, by exulting over the humble companions around her, and venting her ill-humour on the smallest of them she is for ever mortified to behold her coarse, large legs, and cannot repress the expression of her despair. There is, at the end of the lawn on which this fair unfortunate is wont to lament, a ruin so overgrown with ivy, that the form of its walls is scarcely discernible; and the long arrow-slits through which the light once streamed, are nearly blocked up by the thick garlands of bright leaves that cluster round them. "I have often climbed over those ruins," said a pretty little boy of eight years old to me, as we were one evening standing contemplating the flight of numerous pigeons which darted from a variety of restingplaces among the displaced stones. "And are there any beyond what we see here?" inquired I. "Oh, yes," returned my little guide eagerly, "but I am not allowed to go there now, because I once nearly fell down a deep pit between the stairs of the tower where the owl's nest was. Our gardener knows all about that tower, and who they were who once lived in it. That old black cabinet in your room came out of the ruins, he says." I was not long, after this information, in finding the gardener, who was a very aged man, rather deaf, and a little surly, his temper a good deal tried by the conduct of the moles, which were constantly disturbing his walks. "The creeturs!" exclaimed he, "there they be, at it agen! consesserently a worritting and terrifying of the ground-a letting it have no peace. It's my belief they be a sort of evil spirits." "Not unlikely," said I; "and who knows whether they don't come out of the ruins? I've heard there are odd stories respecting them: but I suppose no one knows anything about them now; since the railroad ran through this country, no doubt all old traditions are swept away." He looked up as I spoke with rather an offended expression, and remarked that, if any one could tell it ought to be he, for he believed no one in the parish had known the locality longer. 66 Now," he went on to say, "perhaps you never remarked that long piece of stone that lies in the thick grass, where the ground's highest, above the apple orchard there-many passes that by and never notices it; but I knew that stone since I was a boy-ay, and so did my father, and his grandfather too; and it stood alone in that field, which they called the Stone Field because of it; but when they took and cut up the place for their railroad, they knocked it over, though |