palace full of splendid associations with the ancient records of his country, but in itself a sufficiently dreary and uncomfortable abode. He passed very few years of happiness here; and it subsequently became to him a prison under the most painful circumstances which can ever attend the loss of liberty.

The late king and his family had lived at Windsor nearly thirty years, before it occurred to him to inhabit his own castle. The period at which he took possession was one of extraordinary excitement. It was the period of the threatened invasion of England by Napoleon, when, as was the case with France upon the manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick, "the land bristled." The personal character of the king did a great deal towards giving the turn to public opinion. His unconquerable perseverance, which some properly enough called obstinacy---his simple habits, so flattering to the John Bullism of the day-his straight-forward and earnest piety-and the ease with which he appeared to put off the farmer, and put on the soldier,—each and all of these qualities were exceedingly in accordance with the temper of the times. The doings at Windsor were certainly more than commonly interesting at that period; and I was just of an age to understand something of their meaning, and partake the excitement. Sunday was especially a glorious day; and the description of one Sunday will furnish an adequate picture of those of two or three years.

At nine o'clock the sound of martial music was heard in the streets. The Blues and the Stafford Militia then did duty at Windsor; and though the one had seen no service since Minden, and most undeservedly bore the stigma of a past generation, and the other was composed of men who had never faced any danger but the ignition of a coal-pit, they were each a remarkably fine body of soldiers, and the king did well to countenance them. Of the former regiment George III. had a troop of his own, and he delighted to wear the regimentals of a captain of the Blues; and well did his burly form become the cocked hat and heavy jack-boots which were the fashion of that fine corps in 1805. At nine o'clock, as I have said, of a Sunday morning, the noise of trumpet and of drum was heard in the streets of Windsor; for the regiments paraded in the castle quadrangle. The troops occupied the whole square. At about ten the king appeared with his family. He passed round the lines while the salute was performed; and many a rapid word of inquiry had he to offer to the colonels who accompanied him. Not always did he wait for an answer-but that was after the fashion of royalty in general. He passed onwards towards St. George's Chapel. But the military pomp did not end in what is called the upper quadrangle. In the lower ward, at a very humble distance from the regular troops, were drawn up a splendid body of men, ycleped the Windsor Volunteers; and most gracious were the nods of royalty

to the well-known drapers, and hatters, and booksellers, who had the honour to hold commissions. in that distinguished regiment. The salutations, however, were short, and onwards went the cortège, for the chapel bell was tolling in, and the king was always punctual.

I account it one of the greatest blessings of my life, and a circumstance which gave a tone to my imagination which I would not resign for many earthly gifts, that I lived in a place where the cathedral service was duly and beautifully performed. Many a frosty winter evening have I sat in the cold choir of St. George's Chapel, with no congregation but two or three gaping strangers, and an ancient female or so in the stalls, lifted up to heaven by the peals of the sweetest of organs, or entranced by the divine melody of the Nunc Dimittis, or of some solemn anthem of Handel or Boyce, breathed most exquisitely from the lips of Vaughan. If the object of devotion be to make us feel, and to carry away the soul from all low and earthly thoughts, assuredly the grand chants of our cathedral service are not without their use. I admire-none can admire more-the abstract idea of an assembly of reasoning beings, offering up to the Author of all good their thanksgivings and their petitions in a pure and intelligible form of words; but the question will always intrude, does the heart go along with this lip-service?-and is the mind sufficiently excited by this reasonable worship to forget its accustomed association with

the business, and vanities, and passions of the world? The cathedral service does affect the imagination, and through that channel reaches the heart; and thus I can forgive the solemnities of Catholicism, (of which our cathedral service is a relic,) which act upon the mind precisely in the same way. The truth is, we Church of England people have made religion a cold thing by entirely appealing to the understanding; and then Calvinism comes in to supply the place of high mass, by offering an excitement of an entirely different character. But where am I wandering?

St. George's Chapel is assuredly the most beautiful gem of the later Gothic architecture. It does not impress the mind by its vastness, or grandeur of proportions, as York-or by its remote antiquity, as parts of Ely; but by its perfect and symmetrical beauty. The exquisite form of the roof -elegant yet perfectly simple, as every rib of each column which supports it spreads out upon the ceiling into the most gorgeous fan-the painted windows-the rich carving of the stalls of the choir -the waving banners-and, in accordance with the whole character of the place, its complete preservation and scrupulous neatness-all these, and many more characteristics which I cannot describe, render it a gem of the architecture of the fifteenth century.

As a boy I thought the Order of the Garter was a glorious thing: and believed,-as what boy has not believed?—that

VOL. II.

K

The goodly golden chain of chivalry,

as Spenser has it, was let down from heaven to earth. I did not then know that even Edward the Black Prince was a ferocious and cruel spoiler of other men's lands, and that all his boasted meekness and magnanimity was a portion of the make-believe of those ages when the people were equally trampled upon by the victor and the vanquished. When, too, in the daily service of St. George's Chapel I heard the words, "God bless our gracious sovereign, and all the knights companions of the most honourable and noble Order of the Garter,"-though I thought it was a little impious to parade the mere titles of miserable humanity before the footstool of the Most High, I still considered that the honourable and noble persons, so especially prayed for, were the choicest portion of humanity-the very "salt of the earth," -and that heaven would forgive this pride of its creatures. I saw the Installation of 1805; and I hated these words ever after. The old King marched erect; and the Prince of Wales bore himself proudly (he did not look so magnificent as Kemble in Coriolanus); but my Lord of Salisbury, and my Lord of Chesterfield, and my Lord. of Winchilsea, and half-a-dozen other lords-what a frightful spectacle of fat, limping, leaden supporters of chivalry did they exhibit to my astonished eyes! The vision of "throngs of knights and barons bold" fled for ever; and I never heard the words again without a shudder.