angle of the walls, is another fine rúin called the Water-tower, richly mantled with ivy. It was celebrated in the civil wars of the Commonwealth, and at length yielded to the cannon of Cromwell, planted on the opposite bank of the Dee.

Under the western section of the ramparts, spreads the Roodee, a beautiful level common, closely shorn, and bordered on one side by the meanders of the river. It comprises an area of 84 acres, and is now used as a race course. Although the green turf has been appropriated to profane purposes, its name is of holy origin. From the smooth sod

rises a little cross which marks a spot consecrated by a superstitious legend. It is said that an image of the Virgin, which fell upon the head of a lady of distinction and crushed her to pieces, while at her devotions, was thrown into the Dee at Hawarden church, several miles above, and floated to this place, where it was picked up and interred, inscribed with a barbarous distich.

Passing by the Infirmary and the Gaol, which are modern structures, we arrived at the stately group of edifices called the Castle. These have all been lately re-built, and although neat, possess little interest, except from their association with former events. The tower of Julius Cæsar is converted into a powder magazine and armory. Near the Castle is an entrance called the "Hole in the Wall," where there is the remnant of a Roman arch, said to be the oldest in the kingdom. Besides being consecrated by the footsteps of the XXth Legion, it has been celebrated in later times, as the place where King Edgar landed, when he was rowed across the Dee by eight captive princes. At the corner of one of the streets in this part of the town, is a little tavern, called the Edgar Hotel, with a sign on which the above mentioned scene is delineated, the regal oarsmen all wearing their crowns, with their coats off.

Opposite the southern gate, is a lofty stone bridge, built in the seventh or eighth century. It is a rude structure, with five massive arches and bastions at top, like a fortress, and has probably been used as such. It is now in a crazy condition, and accounted very unsafe.

On the right bank of the river below, is a beautiful public walk, shaded with trees, and over-looked by St. John's Church, an extremely ancient structure, associated with much history and many traditions. The village of Handbridge, on the other shore, where Henry IV. of Germany

resided when he retired from his throne to this place, stands upon an eminence, and appears to great advantage.

Our promenade round these dilapidated walls was entirely novel, and in the highest degree interesting. The evening was fine. In the course of the circuit, the sun went down behind the hills of Wales, and the moon soon followed in his train. The bells of the Cathedral rang a curfew, which is still observed in this ancient city. Herds and flocks were quietly grazing upon the Roodee, and a thousand circumstances recalled the imagery every where to be found in the English poets.

On the following day our examination of Chester and its environs was completed. In the morning, our steps were first directed to the centre of the city, where once stood a cross, at the junction of the four principal streets, leading through the gates placed at the cardinal points of the compass. The sacred emblem was demolished in the civil and ecclesiastical wars, and a church now stands upon the site. Chester throughout is a curiosity. It is one of the oldest cities in the kingdom, and its venerable aspect is in a great measure preserved. Its houses are grotesque in the extreme, being a mixture of stone, wood, brick, and mortar, with the gable ends to the street, and embellished with the oddest sculpture imaginable. They are annually tumbling down with absolute old age. Most of them are built in what the inhabitants call the Rows, consisting of a lower tier of rooms under the pavement of the side-walk, which forms the roof of the subterraneous apartments, supported by pillars in front. The shops and dwellings are back of this odd species of arcades, on a level with the walk. At convenient intervals, are dark and covered ways leading through the blocks. It is said this construction was adopted to guard against the Welsh, who in turbulent times used to make frequent incursions upon the city and plunder its inhabitants.

In Bridge-street, a tavern was pointed out to us connected with a curious tradition. Dr. Cole, Dean of St. Paul's, was entrusted with a commission from Queen Mary to the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, authorizing him to persecute the Protestants. On his way to Dublin, he put up for the night at this house. The landlady apprized of his errand, and being less a catholic than either her guest or her sovereign, hit upon an expedient to defeat the bloody project. She secretly slipt the commission from the box in which it was

enclosed, and substituted a pack of cards in its place, taking care to turn up the Jack of Clubs. In the morning, the Dean pursued his journey, and delivered the package to the Lord Lieutenant, who on opening it found to his surprise Pam staring him in the face. The holy messenger trod back to London with all possible despatch, but some change of policy had in the mean time taken place, and the persecution was stayed.

On the same street, we penetrated a dark and dirty cellar, for the purpose of viewing the remains of a Roman Bath. It is situated in the side of a rock, supported on thirty pillars, about two feet high, placed at equal distances. The roof is covered with cement. Persons have crept into the gloomy recess, until nearly suffocated with the confined air. Near the bath is a living fountain, hewn from the cliffs, whence the water was drawn. Here the soldiers, of the XXth Legion used to recreate themselves after the dusty toils of the field and camp. In this avenue, we also visited St. Bridget's Church, founded by Offa in the eighth century; and the old house, in which the Gamul family afforded refuge to Charles I. when he was driven from the throne, and persecuted by his enemies. An hour was passed at the Bridge, and in St. Mary's Church. The latter is a great curiosity, being a perfect specimen of Gothic architecture. Its roof exhibits the ancient mode of pannelling, and is fantastically embossed with rose-work. In one corner, the Gamul family lie in state, sculptured as large as life in marble. At the foot of Lady Gamul, a child sits reading the Bible. Noblemen, gentry, and persons of distinction lie entombed around, with their tablets, escutcheons, and armour suspended from the walls.

to bottom.

We next rambled over every part of the Castle from top A part of it is used as a town-house; another part as a prison; a third as an armory, in which are 20,000 muskets, pistols, carbines, and other implements of war neatly arranged. But the modern edifice had few attractions for us. It was much more interesting to be shown the spot over one of the gates, where Richard II. slept, when he was driven from Ireland, than to look at the seat where a pursy alderman doses. From the top of the Castle, there is a fine view of Moel Fammo, (the mother of mountains,) the highest hill in Flintshire, and of Beeston, a curious insulated hill to the northeast, crowned with the ruins of an ancient

fortress. On the summit of the former is a beacon, erected as a memorial of the coronation of the present king. By a curious coincident, we were gazing at the monument, on the anniversary of that event, and while the guns were roaring through the city. A bird's-eye view of the town and its environs, from the battlements of the Castle, is picturesque and beautiful.

The most interesting part of our visit at this place, was to Trinity Church, where the remains of Dr. Parnell, the poet, are said to repose. An old lady, who has charge of the keys, accompanied us, and was requested to conduct us to the tomb. She seemed at a loss, but at length led the way to a pillar, beneath which she believed the author of the Hermit slept. She knelt down, and brushed away the dust with her apron, from a little brass tablet, close to the floor of the aisle. The inscription was half illegible; but after applying our handkerchiefs to the plate, it was believed we could read the name of Parnell. It was, however, afterwards found to be the tomb of Aspinwall; and we were compelled to leave the church without being able to find the place, where sleeps the friend of Swift, and the subject of Goldsmith's and Johnson's eulogy.

At two o'clock we set out on foot for Eaton Hall, the seat of Earl Grosvenor, a distance of four or five miles. A pedestrian excursion of this extent, after the fatigues of the morning and on a warm afternoon, was undertaken at the suggestion of a citizen of Chester, who had taken us all over the town, and offered to walk with us to the residence of his lordship, although he had been there a dozen times. The English are much better pedestrians than our countrymen. This same gentleman had walked forty-eight miles for amusement on the Sunday previous. We found him intelligent, polite, and obliging. He devoted the whole day to us, although entire strangers, and without the slightest introduction.

Our walk led, for more than half the distance, through the grounds of Lord Grosvenor, on the rural and quiet banks of the Dee, where the hay makers were busily employed in the meadows. A mile on this side of Eaton Hall is the village of Eccleston, with a neat church built by his lordship, and in which is his family vault. Beyond this commences his Park, where several hundreds of deer of all colours, were re

posing beneath the shade, their large branching horns appearing like a dry forest.

Eaton Hall is a splendid pile of buildings, in the pure Gothic style. It is said there is nothing of the kind in the kingdom which surpasses it. The length of the mansion is four hundred and fifty feet, besides the other buildings finished in the same style, making a total of seven hundred feet. Its centre is three stories high, and the wings two, with Gothic turrets peeping above the groves of oak, and producing a fine effect. The structure is of Shropshire stone, in colour somewhat resembling that of the Exchangé at Liverpool. It was begun in 1803, and has but just been completed. I was informed that the expense of the Hail, exclusive of the furniture, was between four and five hundred thousand pounds, or about two millions of dollars. Nearly as much more has been expended in furnishing this gorgeous palace; and yet his lordship's income, after this deduction, is said to be not less than $600,000! Such is the inequality of wealth in this country, between the thousands of beggars, who ask an obolus, and the noblemen, wallowing in luxury. Happy, thrice happy is our Republic, which yet knows not, and God grant may never know, any of these extremities!

We entered the front door, ascending a flight of white marble steps, at the same moment with a party of ladies from Boston, on a similar errand. Our names were recorded in an album, in which the United States furnished quite a list for one day. On each side of the entrance, in the principal hall, is a figure in ancient mail, from head to foot, arned and masked. Other statues of the same description adorn the vestibule. I will not attempt to describe the interior, as my visit was limited to an hour, and apartment after apartment burst upon the eye in such rapid succession, and with such dazzling splendour, as to render the whole like a scene of enchantment. A few particulars only will be

mentioned.

The floors and tables are of English oak, highly polished, and extremely beautiful. Many of the doors are of mahogany, certainly less beautiful, and less in keeping with the style of architecture, than the other material. There is however much taste, as well as great splendour, exhibited in finishing and furnishing the rooms; and if his lordship has superintended the whole, his duties have been both complex and arduous. It would require much ingenuity, and a great