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Asia, and America, has its wild goats, and its mouflons or wild sheep,) but that the mammalia of such tracts will fill up the same place in the great scheme of nature, which the same contingencies around them require.

But here we must pause; and while we are considering the laws which regulate the distribution of the animals of our globe, or rather the results of those laws, let us not forget the great Lawgiver, that Creator who has appointed them their bounds, their dwelling, and their habits, who has assigned to every species its destined station, and given it its own part to play in the great polity of the animated world. Little do we know of the benefits resulting from the ordered ways and habits of the living multitudes around; less do we know of the final causes to be accomplished by the existence of any one species; nothing do we know of the results which its total destruction would effect, in the disarrangement of a plan which our minds are too limited to comprehend. But this we know, that God has done all things well, and that in Him alone is infinite wisdom, conjoined with never-failing goodness and tender mercy.

THE PERAMBULATOR.

WINDSOR CASTLE.

AND has it gone forth to the world, that Windsor Castle, with its embattled towers, is the goodliest, the proudest, and the princeliest dwelling in Europe, and shall a Perambulator find himself within a score miles of this regal residence, and pass it by! This were an omission hardly to be excused. I must visit this princely pile, gaze on its glories, climb its highest tower, pace along its unrivalled terrace, and pause in its farfamed chapel.

Where beauty, youth, and power and fame
In silent pomp are sleeping,
And royal heads, and royal hearts,
Are held in death's cold keeping.

then imagination gave me wings, and I was cleaving the air as with the pinions of an eagle; and after that, when yet more excited by increased speed, taking a wider range, I sped my way through space, borne onward by the whirlwind.

But rapidly as we move, in our real or imaginary career, time moves on more swiftly with us all.

"Time speeds away-away-away;

No eagle through the skies of day
No wind along the hills can flee
So swiftly or so smooth as he.

Like fiery steed, from stage to stage,
He bears us on from youth to age;
Then plunges in the fearful sea
Of fathomless eternity."

I have passed through Eton thronged with the scholars that are educated at the college, and leaving the castle to be visited on my return, have thus far pursued my course. And where am I now? Even standing on the brink of Virginia Water. There is a freshness in the air, as there always is in spring, when the sun shines after a shower. The feathered songsters are warbling their wildest notes; the shrub, the bush, and the tree, are clothed with the freshest leaves; and the face of the lake, ruffled by the breeze, is giving back the sunbeam from ten thousand glittering waves.

Nor is the turfy margin of Virginia Water unpeopled. A few of my fellow beings drawn here, like myself, partly by the lovely weather, and partly by the fame of this delightful spot, are idly rambling onwards. Yonder is one, with a substantial frame and look of energy, gazing on the water, yearning for a boat, a fishing rod, a line, and a well-baited hook. Already has his fancied float, dipped beneath the sparkling waters, and now the shining scales of his finny captive are gladdening his delighted eyes. A little in advance, is a gentlemanly figure, with a lady resting on his arm whose cheerful, healthy, happy appearance, is in keeping with the goodly scene around her. To the left, yonder, is one leaning on his stick, whose slender frame, and somewhat attenuated features, be

I rose early, rumbled along the streets of London city, first in a cab, and after-speak the invalid. I look upon him with wards in an omnibus, and then shot along the Great Western Railway at a rate that set my busy fancy at once to work. As the bickering engine hurried on, I gradually grew wilder in my thoughts. Now in a triumphal car, I hastened on as a

conqueror,

"On daring deeds ybent and feats of high emprise;"

interest. It is evident that he is not what he was. May health yet glow in his cheek, vigour gird his loins, and happiness dwell in his heart! Behind, far, far behind, are lingering a younger pair, one of either sex, engrossed in each other's converse. I caught a glance as │I passed them, and there was much that

I liked in their faces. Again, they have | made a stand on the very brink of the water. May they never be less happy than they are now!

Rambling leisurely round the lake, with a bright yellow furze bud in my bosom, and a grateful heart beating beneath it, I breathe the balmy air, gaze on the vessels and the swans in the lake and on the summer pavilion or fishing temple of George Iv., with its pointed roof and grotesque ornaments, admiring the budding bushes, and the bright green leaves that tip the more sober foliage of the trees, and I visit the cascade, the cave, and the Palmyra-like ruins; the latter are now but a stone's cast from my feet. The scene is lovely; but the broken and disfigured sculpture, here and there, tells me that the place has been visited by the lawless. What an unenviable mind must he possess, who can find pleasure in mutilating a marble statue!

A humble bee is buzzing around me, too happy to keep his joy to himself. Yonder, flutters a butterfly of no common kind; and a new-laid egg must surely have cleared the rejoicing throat of the cuckoo that is now exulting in the spring across the lake.

Many things have arrested my attention in the Great Park, but at this moment, I am entranced by the view that has suddenly burst upon me. It is not the equestrian statue of George III., nor the Long Walk alone, extending, as it does, three miles, with its noble avenue of trees, but the sunny brightness, the wide expanse, and the proud embattled towers of Windsor Castle, crowning the distant height, replete with majesty. There are several open carriages around me, in which company are standing, spell-bound by the scene, giving utterance to their emotions in wild ejaculations of surprise and pleasure.

While gazing on the goodly pile before me, and listening to the military band, what dreams of my boyhood! what mingled recollections of the reading of my youthful days are crowding on my memory! Castles, and feudal courts, and floating banners; and dungeons deep and vaulted gateways; ponderous portcullis; jousts and tournaments. The days of chivalry are returned to my excited imagination; and valorous knights, and noble dames, and toil-worn pilgrims, and minstrels, with harps and chains of gold, are strangely blended. The festival is held in the great hall, and there are ga

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thered princes, nobles, knights, and peerless dames; and the Christmas log is flaring on the hearth, reddening the very roof above; and the boar's head smokes upon the board; and the aged fingers of the hoary harper are flying o'er the resounding wires as he chaunts the heroic ballad of other times.

In days of yore, the gladsome day was spent
In joust, and tournament, and courtly glee;
Then earthly roofs re-echoed with the peal
Of midnight revelry and festal mirth.
Oh what a glorious time was that to live in,
When knights were faithful, ladies true and fair;
When pageantry and pleasure, hand in hand
With innocence, danced through the circling

hours!

Where grief, and pain, and guilt were never known;

And all was loyalty, and life, and love!
But was it so? Too closely question not
The fairy dreams of gay romantic youth!
He that from records of the past would draw
A portrait fair of frail humanity,
Must be content, with hurried glance, to pass
O'er blotted pages of distress and grief,
And many a painful paragraph of crime.
Men were, of olden time, as they are now,
The slaves of passion, pride, and follies vain.

I am now approaching the Castle, wearing, as it does, on its turretted brow, the impress of majesty, regality, strength, and power, and looking down from its commanding station on a dozen surrounding counties. Soldiers are sitting or standing in groups, visitors are walking up the Castle hill, and I am about to enter the gateway of Henry VIII. The largest of the three wards of the castle is the lower ward, and this includes the following towers Winchester tower, Store tower, Wardrobe tower, Salisbury tower, Garter tower, Julius Cesar's tower, and Belfry tower.

I have no time to enter into historic details. That Edward the Confessor gave the site of the town and castle to the abbey of St. Peter, at Westminster; that William the Conqueror built here a fortress; and that the castle was, at different times, altered, enlarged, rebuilt, and beautified, by different monarchs-these things are matters of history. Here Henry 11. held a parliament, and king John took refuge when at enmity with his barons; and here Charles 1. resided as a monarch, and afterwards was detained as a prisoner. William the Conqueror, Henry 1., Edward 111. and iv., Henry VII, and VIII., Charles I. and 11., George III. and Iv., and William iv., are the kings who have had the most to do with its alterations, enlargements, and improvements.

I have glanced at the dwelling of the

poor (now military) knights; walked through the great and the inner cloisters, and paced to and fro the quadrangle and the terrace. The famous terrace attached to the seraglio of the grand seigniors at Constantinople, which looks on the sea, is not equal to this in extent and beauty. I have accompanied a group of visitors through the apartments of state, and am now making my notes in the open air.

The paintings, the carvings, and gildings; the furniture, the hangings, and the ornaments of the state apartments, bewilder the visitor by their gorgeousness and beauty. They are so far above the ornaments and furniture of common habitations, as to excite astonishment and admiration. The rich crimson silk damask hangings of the Vandyck room and queen's drawing room, with the stucco ceilings, graceful panels, richly emblazoned shields, wreaths of flowers richly etched with gold, together with the arms of England and Saxe Meiningen, surmounted with the royal crown, are of the most imposing description, and while gazing upon them, I feel that I am, indeed, in a palace.

The large mirrors, with massive silver frames, and the richly chased silver tables in the queen's closet; the star of St. George; initials, shields, arms, and palm branches of the king's closet; the beautiful ceilings and splendid decora tions of the king's council room and drawing room, together with the valuable paintings that enrich the walls, excite emotions that the pen of a perambulator cannot make legible on paper. Though in rather a sober mood, my brain is somewhat giddy. I need not be told that palaces, though blazing with magnificence, are perishable things; and that monarchs and princes are but men. I know it well; but pomp and prodigality affect us strangely; and we marvel at that which, did we possess it, we might not enjoy.

Wherever pomp and power are sent,
Oh give me peace and sweet content;
With pure desires that upward rise,
And hopes that look beyond the skies.

room, and St. George's hall, the latter two hundred feet long, a whit behind them in interest and influence. The Waterloo chamber furnishes another instance of the strange vicissitudes that occur to human beings. Here William Iv. gave his dinners commemorative of the great battle of Waterloo, and in the same chamber his breathless body lay in state. There is a party gazing around with admiration, but the guide hurries them on rather impatiently.

The most arresting objects in the guard room are a part of the fore mast of the Victory, perforated by a ball; a gothic bronze chandelier; busts of Nelson, the dukes of Marlborough and Wellington; a beautiful piece of ordnance, taken from Tippo Saib; and a splendid silver shield, inlaid with gold, presented by Francis of France to Henry VIII., on the Field of the Cloth of Gold: these, with the groined ceiling, with its massy mouldings resting on corbels supported by grotesque heads and richlyflowered bosses, here and there, afford an interest in every direction; while the piles of ancient armour, and whole length figures, armed from head to heel, with lance in hand, call up, perhaps, a yet deeper interest in the spectator's mind. The grand vestibule, the grand staircase, with its statue of George Iv.; the queen's presence chamber and audience chamber, enriched as the two latter are with painted ceilings, and beautiful specimens of the Gobelin tapestry, have made me pause.

Among the many paintings that adorn the state apartments, by Vandyck, Zuccarelli, Holbein, Claude Lorraine, Rembrandt, Teniers, Rubens, Parmegiano, Carlo Dolci, Matsys, Guido, Pousin, Dominichino, West, Lawrence, Wilkie, Shee, and twenty other celebrated painters, two are usually regarded with more than common interest: that of Charles 1. on horseback, said to be valued at ten thousand pounds; and that of the Misers by Matsys. This latter picture is the performance of a Dutch blacksmith, who, understanding that his master had de

The state of the ante room, the vesti-clared that no one but a painter should bule, and the throne room, with their painted and embellished ceilings; their exquisite carvings, polished oak wainscotings, star and garter insignia, richly embossed medallions of gold and silver, and superb decorations, extort from me, as I pace them, ejaculations of surprise. Nor are the Waterloo chamber, the ball

wed his daughter, set to work at once, and prosecuted his studies with such determined perseverance, that he at last produced this splendid painting; thus, at the same time, winning his master's daughter for a wife, and establishing his reputation as an eminent painter. But I must hurry on to mount the summit

of the round tower, and gaze on the en- | pausing at every monument and ponderchanting view that it commands.

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Beautiful! beautiful! The parks, the trees, the river, and the wide-spread prospect, all are beautiful! Bedford, Bucks, Berks, Essex, Hants, and Herts, are open to the eye; Kent, Middlesex, and Oxford; Surrey, Sussex, and Wiltshire. Windsor lies below, and Eton with its venerable college, rich in associations. Poets, divines, statesmen, and warriors, have there prepared themselves for their lofty course; sir Robert Walpole, Harley, earl Camden, earl of Chatham, Boyle, Lyttleton, Gray, Horace Walpole, Waller, West, Fox, Canning, the marquis Wellesley, Hallam, and Wellington. Yonder is the mount where the Montem is held, and what a glorious extent of green turf is that to gaze on which stretches itself below the terrace and the trees.

The broad banner, twelve yards long and eight yards broad, which flaunts in the air from the flag-staff when royalty resides at the castle, is not now flying. The battery of seventeen piece of cannon, is rather a pageant than a necessary defence, but it adds to the imposing aspect of this princely pile. The massive walls, and mighty bulwarks of castles, appear clothed with power, even when in a state of repose; what, then, when bristling with the weapons of armed men, and hurling forth their destructive thunders?

In the round tower, the constable of the castle used to reside; and the earl of Surrey and Mareschal de Belleisle, John king of France, and David and James 1., kings of Scotland, were among the captives who have here been confined. What strange extremes meet in a royal palace! The glittering throne and the gloomy dungeon, the monarch and the prisoner, the revel of the conqueror and the moaning of the vanquished. After all, there is a luxury in going back again from the exciting atmosphere of a palace, to the quietude and repose of domestic life. Monarchs, keep your crowns, your pomp, your splendour, and your power, and let me gratefully partake of my bits and drops in tranquillity and peace; for "Better is an handful with quietness, than both the hands full, with travail and vexation of spirit," Eccles. iv. 6.

I am now leaving the chapel of St. George, built by Edward 111., enlarged by Edward Iv., and enriched by Henry VII., with solemn impressions, after

ing on the records of the dead. In the royal tombhouse, which was erected by Henry vII., lie interred the remains of the princess Amelia, princess Charlotte, queen Charlotte, the duke of Kent, George ., the duke of York, George Iv., and William Iv.; and the several smaller chapels of Lincoln, Oxenbridge, Bray, Beaufort, Rutland, and Hastings, are the resting places of other distinguished personages.

The cenotaph of the princess Charlotte is full of interest, and the splendid monument erected by Wyatt is admirably executed. The body of the deceased princess, lying on a bier, is covered with drapery; so that the face is hidden, but the outline of the figure is preserved with great truth. The weeping mourners are also completely covered with drapery. As, however, the thoughts and emotions of the spectator are somewhat confused by the sight of two bodies, the one dead, and the other, which has a bodily rather than an unsubstantial appearance, living and rising from the tomb, so the whole is less impressive than it otherwise would have been.

But though St. George's chapel arrests the attention of the spectator, by its splendid stained glass, the beauty of its western window, and the general grandeur of its architecture, it is on entering the choir, where Divine service is performed, and where the ceremony of installing the knights of the garter takes place, that the mind is most impressed with the pomp of power, and solemnity of death. The richness of the roof, the elaborate carvings, the great painted window, the wainscoting of the altar, the dark stalls of the knights, and the marble pavement, are solemnly influential. The stalls of the knights are ranged on each side of the choir; over each stall, beneath a canopy of carved work, are the sword, mantle, helmet, and crest of each knight, with his banner above all, hanging in gloomy state, while a brass plate, at the back of the seat, sets forth his name, style, and titles. Though the order of the garter is the most honourable and noble of all the orders of knighthood, the peculiar circumstances which gave rise to it are involved in mystery. It was founded by Edward III. The sovereign Victoria and her royal consort, with British and foreign princes, are among the number of knights that now form this illustrious order. Names that

time has registered and fame enrolled, are here grouped together in imposing but silent and gloomy state. Cleveland, Somerset, Lansdowne, Buccleuch, and Norfolk; Richmond, Devonshire, and Anglesea; Wellesley, Rutland, Derby, Carlisle, and Hamilton; with Grafton, Grey, Exeter, Dorset, Northumberland, Wellington, Newcastle, Lonsdale, and Westmoreland. These banners, swords, and spears, these blazoned coats of arms, are but the perishable symbols of passing power; and yet, while I gaze upon them, a mysterious awe and solemn influence seem to pervade the very atmosphere around.

Here rests the dust of king Edward IV. and his consort. Henry vi., Henry VIII. and his queen, lady Jane Seymour, with Charles I., lie here interred. But it must be admitted that, imposing as St. George's chapel is, that of Henry VII. in Westminster Abbey is still more so. These tombs

and monuments of departed greatness, point out the fading nature of earthly glory.

For what are crowns and sceptres, power and fame,

And plaudits echoed by a nation's breath;
A noble ancestry, and mighty name,

When summon'd to thy presence-chamber-
Death?

What are the hatchment and the banner brave;
The buckler, helm, and spear suspended high?
Ask loud the question! Catechize the grave!
"Dust, darkness, silence !" this is the reply.

My perambulations through the castle and grounds have afforded me much pleasure, and my visit to St. George's chapel has called up salutary reflections; but I would not willingly take up my abode in this regal residence. Peace to these walls, and peace and joy to the head and heart of her who wears the crown! Hers be this fair domain, and after it a fairer in the skies.

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