CHAPTER V.

Nos patriæ fines, et dulcia linquimus arva; Nos patriam fugimus.

VIRGIL.

Round the wide world in banishment we roam, Forc'd from our pleasing fields and happy home.

DRYDEN'S TRANSLATION.

Sad and sorrowful ever is the parting hour when beloved friends separate, perchance never more to meet again! But oh, how sad must that separation prove if not accompanied with the consoling hope--"we yet shall meet again!" The Duke of Tyrconnel was then departing from his beloved wife and darling daughter, yet no enlivening hope allayed the feverish throbbing of his heart, with the bland promise, "we yet shall meet again!" Deep, bitter, and gloomy were the parting pangs and presages when these affectionate friends separated, destined, perchance, never more to meet! Still manfully the duke concealed the wound which rankled in his breast, and with promptitude made ready to follow the fallen fortune of his fallen master. He recommended that the duchess should, without procrastination, depart for England, and retire thence to the continent, until such time as the political tempest which was raging should subside. It was also proposed that the duke and duchess should at the same time depart for their respective destinations, and the determination, upon the same day it was resolved on, was carried into effect. The plan was, that the duchess, Lady Adelaide, Ladies Letitia and Lucy, escorted by Sir Patricius Placebo, should proceed to England, _viâ_, or rather _mari_, to Parkgate, thence journey onward to Chester, only twelve miles distant, remain there a few days with their kind friends Doctor Cartwright, bishop of Chester, and his lady; and next set off for the most convenient port to embark for France. Thence make a _detoùr_ to the Netherlands, and take up their residence in the city of Brussels, where the Duchess d'Aremberg, Adelaide's godmother, resided.

The duke accompanied his family to the packet which was to convey them from their native shores, possibly for ever! The parting scene was exceedingly affecting, the duchess, rallying all her fortitude, was enabled to address the duke ere they fondly embraced and parted, in these empassioned words:--"Go forth, my dear lord!" said the duchess. "Go, my beloved lord, where every filial tie calls your attendance, where glory, your country, and your king, demand your presence. Go, and the god of battles be your guide and guard! But the wife of Tyrconnel breathes no sigh--the wife of Tyrconnel sheds no tear at her loved lord's departure. Had he remained ingloriously at home then there would have been too ample cause for lamentation; the blush of every feeling cheek, and the throb of every manly heart, would have revolted at conduct so base and selfish. But, thank heaven, this is not--it could not be! Go forth then, my dearest lord, and the blessings of a wife and of a mother ever attend thee!"

Adelaide, however, could not command those feelings which were instinctive to her sensitive feelings, she sobbed and wept deep and bitterly; she endeavoured to check the rooted sorrow which was preying on her heart, but the attempt was all in vain, her affection burst forth more strongly from her endeavour to counteract it; and tears of sorrow for her father's departure flowed in deep succession. The duke was highly affected with this parting scene; yet sternly checking himself, he said:--"My dearest Adelaide this must not be; virtue carried to excess--honour carried to excess, lose all their original intrinsic worth. Nay, even religion may be transmuted into persecution; and eternal silence and seclusion from the world be considered as its divine attributes, so that each shall lose all the original stamp of their native worth. I therefore tell you, my dearest daughter, that this must not be; I shall, with the permission of divine providence, so soon as it shall be in my power, rejoin you all in a foreign land upon my return from attending my revered monarch to Saint Germains. And, my beloved, although we shall have lost our rank, and reside as persons quite unknown--perhaps wholly unnoticed; yet, my dearest Adelaide, we shall nevertheless retain that which is much dearer to the human breast, self-esteem, and social love, and social leisure, and these undisturbed by courtly crowds, unchanged by time or circumstance, or loss of power. These social ties too well I know, my dearest child, are dearer to thee than wealth, rank, pomp, and power; and believe me truly we shall feel far happier than ever we felt before. So I pray thee, dearest Adelaide, that we may have no more of sorrow or repining, for all will yet be well!"

The duke affectionately embraced his duchess, Adelaide, and his sisters, and cordially shook hands with Sir Patricius Placebo; when having descended the side of the vessel, his Grace jumpt into the boat which conveyed him to the shore, and entered his carriage which waited for him, to attend upon the fallen fortunes of his fallen master. When intimation was given to Sir Patricius that he was to proceed to England, and take charge of the duchess and family, _certes_ he received the communication not without some portion of surprise, and of pleasure too we must admit: "_Jacta est alea, jacta est alea!_" he exclaimed: "The dye is thrown, so now 'For England Ho!' ha, ha, ha! As Prince Hamlet says in the play, 'For England Ho!' ehem!--

DOSS MOI, TANE STIGMEN!"

The packet, with all her canvass unfurled, and proudly swelling before a brisk and favouring breeze, promptly set sail onward in her direct course for the seaport of Parkgate,[21] in Cheshire. The day was uncommonly fine, and a warm exhilarating summer sun refulgently shone forth, richly gilding the expanding sails of the vessel, and with its genial enlivening rays cheering the voyagers, who sat beneath an awning upon the deck. By this time Adelaide, pursuant to the monitory parting injunctions of her father, had become tranquil and composed. While receding from the beloved shores of her native land, Adelaide was particularly struck with the romantic headlands and mountains that, south and north, bounded the horizon--the romantic peninsula of Howth, the hoary promontory of Wicklow-head, the conic hills "the Sugar-loaves," so denominated from their peculiar conformation; the long continuous chain of the Dublin and Wicklow mountains which adorned the southern point of the horizon, while anon they melted into distant aërial perspective. Adelaide was at once charmed and delighted with the scene, which called forth from her pen the following effusion:--

[21] Parkgate _had been_ a seaport of Cheshire for several years; it is situated at the mouth of the river Dee, ten miles distant from Chester, and one hundred and ninety-four from London. It has _now_ ceased to be a port, the entrance to the harbour being choked by sand banks.

TO HOPE.

Hope dispels the mists of woe, And with the sun's resplendent glow Illumes poor wand'rers on their way; Like polar star, whose argent light Gems the dark diadem of night, And sheds a heav'nly guiding ray.

Hope helms the bark mid these wild seas, Where the white swelling billows roar; The seaman cheers, to brave the breeze, And steer the prow for Albion's shore.

The sun illumes yon mountain's brow-- 'Tis gone, and all's in shadow now! So flits the vision of the past Joy's sunny beam is soon o'ercast!

Happy my days while yet a child, When blandly hope my hours beguiled; Like green Oäsis on the sun-burnt plain, And Hope doth still her syren charms retain!

Little of interest, and still less of variety, the reader can reasonably expect to have narrated in a short sea-voyage from the shores of Erin to those of Albion; but on the contrary, much tameness, much sameness, and much monotony, must necessarily be encountered by the voyager.

However, the breeze blew propitious, the weather smiled a settled and serene summer day; the resplendent azure of the sky was unruffled by a cloud, the sun was warm, and the scene proved genial and exhilarating, as onward the gallant bark ploughed her watery way.

A numerous host of seagulls circled in many a merry gambol around the vessel, then right-joyously plunged into the water, and boomed upon the billow, while they seemed to rejoice in the summer sun, and sport on halcyon tide; while ever and anon the Diver (_Colymbus Troile_) plunged beneath the glassy surface of the sea; a large flock of _Terns_, or sea-swallows (_sterna hirundo_) congregated about the vessel, flying around in quick and circling evolutions; now rising from, now sinking in the deep, in frolic play, then gliding along close to the surface of the sea; sometimes snapping at the insects in their way, or then suddenly checking their course, they were seen to dart down upon their finny prey, which was swallowed in the ascent, without the operation by any means retarding the progress of their flight.

The gallant vessel throughout the entire day had joyously scudded onward in a prosperous course before the favouring breeze, and in no longer space than fifteen hours from her departure from the port of Dublin, had arrived at the mouth of the river Dee. But the tide was at this time at ebb, which of necessity retarded the landing of the passengers, as likewise from other co-operating difficulties, the dangerous sand-banks which blockade this harbour, and above all, the total _deficit_ of deep water, a difficulty not to be surmounted, left no choice whatever to the captain but to cast anchor, and cause the packet to remain at her moorings to await the morning tide, which, consequently, put the patience of the voyagers much to task.

The passengers paced the deck to and fro, while they amused themselves with whatever object caught their eye, ear, or fancy; the operations of the crew, the passing sail, the darkening cloud, the sea-fowl retiring to rest, or the slow and hollow murmurs of the receding wave as it foamed, while it retreated, from the adjoining sands of the winding Dee.

At this time the passengers became highly and deeply interested by seeing, or imagining that they saw, human beings upon one of the distant sand-banks, whom the returning tide inevitably would destroy. The telescope was put in requisition, and this only confirmed their fears; for in the days we mention, no Dollond, no Ramsden, was in existence; of course the lenses were dim and defective, and objects, instead of being duly reflected, were misrepresented to the eye. From the repeated remonstrances and apprehensions of the passengers the jolly-boat was lowered into the water, the boatmen briskly plyed the oar, and soon reached Dee's yellow sands. When lo! those whom they had come to rescue, as they imagined, from a watery grave, suddenly took wing, and flew away![22] Yes, gentle reader, too true it is; for the objects which had attracted the attention and the sympathy of the passengers were no more nor less than a large company of cormorants,[23] who somewhat hungry no doubt, had been busily fishing for their supper, and were at the moment they were disturbed by the approach of the boat, in the very overt act of despatching their meal upon the banks of the Dee, who thus suddenly took flight, croaking in hoarse, hollow, and discordant shrieks, their disappointment at being interrupted from their evening banquet; for these stern, sullen, and circumspect plunderers, are most greedy and insatiate gluttons. The great Milton, in his immortal poem, finishes the sketch of this unrelenting tyrant, by causing Satan to personate the corvorant,[24] while envying the happiness of our first parents, as undelighted he surveyed the beauties of Paradise.

"Thence up he flew, and on the tree of life, The middle tree, and highest there that grew, Sat like a cormorant; yet not true life Thereby regain'd, but sat devising death To them who lived."[25]

[22] This circumstance, as detailed above, actually occurred at Parkgate several years ago.

[23] Or Corvorant, the _Pelicanus Carbo_ of Linneus.

[24] "In England (according to Willoughby) the cormorants were hood-winked in the manner of the falcons, until they were let off to fish, and a leather thong was tied round the lower part of their necks in order to prevent them swallowing the fish." Whitlock also mentions, that he had a cast of them _manned_ like hawks, which would come to hand. He took much pleasure in them, and observes, "that the best he had was one presented to him by Mr. Wood, Master of the Corvorants to King Charles I."

[25] Paradise Lost, Book IV.

But it is now full time to say that a calm night succeeded the tranquil day of our fair heroine's voyage, that the duchess and all the party enjoyed a most refreshing night's repose. Upon the return of the tide the raising of the anchors and unfurling of the sails awoke the passengers, who accordingly arose, and ascended the deck. The morning was most lovely; it was then between seven and eight o'clock, the tide was full in, and brilliantly shone forth a July sun, whose cheering beams illumined the sea and all the surrounding scenery. The vessel was once more under weigh, they crossed the bar of Chester; and in less than an hour and a half they were at anchor off Parkgate. The long boat was put out, and our heroine for the first time trod upon English ground. An excellent breakfast was prepared for the voyagers at "The Welch Harp," and very soon smoked upon the board. The carriages and horses of the noble personages were landed in the space of about two hours' time, in perfect safety; for at this period seamen were not so experienced in the tackle and machinery necessary for this purpose as they are in our own days.

When breakfast was concluded the noble party sauntered along the sea-shore, and Sir Patricius having proposed to them a walk along the pathway to the very beautifully situated and retired village of Neston, and the proposal having met with universal approbation, was soon carried into effect. And upon return the thanks of the noble party were voted, _viva voce_, to Sir Patricius, without one dissentient _no!_

Upon their return the travelling carriages were all duly paraded in harnessed array before the door of the inn, and ready for the road, which however, by the bye, proved to be none of the best. In a short time the distinguished travellers started, but the journey, although in distance not more than ten miles, ended in a long and fatiguing one from the badness of the road, and the delay consequent thereon; the first three or four miles were over deep sands, and the remainder of the way was over a rough and badly paved road, which continued without intermission until they reached the gates of ancient Chester. Sir Patricius stoutly insisted that this road had been paved by the Romans, and reminded him, he observed, strongly of the _Via Appia_[26] which is noticed by Horace. "Ah!" said he, "in achieving victories, in forming camps, and making of roads and cheese, the Romans were a great people indeed!"

[26] The _Via Appia_ which is noticed by Horace in his journey to Brundusium, "_Minus est gravis Appia tardis_."

The ladies complained of fatigue, having been much shaken and jolted on their tiresome journey; but Sir Patricius Placebo solemnly averred, that the only effect which he had experienced was, that it had strongly created in him a most immoderate hunger, excited, no doubt, as he supposed it had been, by the heat and action of shaking, jolting, &c.; all which keenly operating upon the gastric juice, withal had acted with such an impetus and energy, to which, in sooth, he was wholly unaccustomed, had, he was free and honest to confess, called forth so very unexpected a craving for food! But Sir Patricius was ever upon the _qui vivè_, and was sure warily to be provided with a pretext, like proverb-loving Sancho, whenever he wished that a _dejeûné a là fourchette_, or a collation, should be put in requisition.

The noble party were set down at the noted and far-famed "White Lion," where compassionating the _fames Canina_ under which poor Sir Patricius languished, a cold collation was called for, where, amid various meats and pastries, a cold and excellent pigeon-pie attracted his hungry attention, and ere long the contents thereof suddenly disappeared, and then he seemed to be relieved from the evident distress under which he had incontinently laboured. This operation was promptly succeeded by a liberal libation (as a salutary condiment to the pigeon-pie) of some excellent old Hock, the _anno domini_ of which was unknown to honest Boniface of "the White Lion."

The ladies too were induced to take some slight refreshment; when the baronet, who now seemed himself again, proposed a walk to the ladies, which he thought would both please and refresh them; and that which he selected was around the walls of this ancient and singular city. This proposition being readily acceded to, the party set forth upon their intended peregrination.

Sir Patricius seemed to be more inclined to the talking mood than he had been disposed to previous to the collation; and made several very apposite remarks during the progress of their walk, which were particularly addressed to the duchess.

"This truly ancient, venerable city, was called by the Romans, _Colonia Deva_, or _Devana_, from its having been the station of the XXth Victorious Legion. It is evident that _Deva_ means

"The ancient hallow'd Dee."

"_This city without parallel_ is of Roman origin, as is fully evinced by the form of the city, which is completely Roman, being constructed in the peculiar figure which the Romans always preserved in their stations or castrametations, wheresoever the nature of the ground would permit. The plan or figure of this city is a peculiar one; in shape it is quadrangular, with four principal gates leading to the four principal streets, which run directly from east to west, and north to south; besides a variety of lesser ones, all crossing each other at right angles, so as to divide the whole into lesser squares. The form likewise of the walls is also Roman, which are the only entire specimen of ancient fortification now in great Britain. The walls, as you may perceive, are in many parts, especially on the north and east sides, guarded by towers placed in such a position as not to be beyond bow-shot of one another, in order that the archers might reach the enemy who attempted to attack the intervals. They also are mostly of a round form, as was recommended by the Roman architects, in order the better to elude the force of catapulta and battering-rams."

Here Sir Patricius (in which we shall not follow him) delivered a very erudite antiquarian lecture upon salient angles, action and reaction, salient towers, _propugnaculi_, and the whole range of Roman military architecture.

He next observed: "Chester is a city and county of itself; the Dee river half encircles it by a winding curve, flowing from east to west, where, nearly at about twenty miles distance in its course, it empties itself into the Irish channel. Look down, my lady Duchess, from these walls, upon the objects below, and you will then appreciate their great height. Originally they were constructed for defence, but they are now converted into a promenade for the health and recreation of the inhabitants; and indeed I must do them the justice to say, that they keep them in excellent repair. The walls are so narrow in some particular places that only two persons, as you must observe, can walk abreast. The circumference of the walls extends to one mile three-quarters, and a hundred and one yards, ehem! _be the same more or less_, as the gentlemen of the long robe might express it."

In their progress around the walls, the ladies all were highly pleased by the surrounding scenery, and none more so than the Lady Adelaide:--

"How beautiful are the views from several parts of these venerable walls! How luxuriantly green the pastures that margin these walls, and that beautiful spot, the race-course!"

"Which, my lady," rejoined Sir Patricius, "they now call popularly Roodee, but the orthography is Rood-eye.[27] This beautiful pasture ground belongs to the corporation, and comprises eighty-four acres. Yonder are the mountains of Flintshire and Derbyshire; there the hills of Broxton; while the insulated rock of Beeston, crowned with its romantic castle, forms the back-ground of the picture upon which your Ladyship seems to gaze with such delight; while the landscape is still further enlivened by the devious winding of the Dee, in its majestic circling course to Boughton."

[27] "The piece of ground without the walls, on which the annual horse-races of Chester are run, cannot well be passed over in silence. The Dee, after quitting the contracted pass at the bridge, flows beneath an incurvated clayey cliff, and washes on the right a fine and extensive meadow, long since protected against its ravages by a lofty dike: it is called Rood-eye.

"The name of this spot is taken from _Eye_, its watery situation, and _Rood_, the cross which stood there, whose base is still to be seen. On this place the lusty youth of former days exercised themselves in the manly sports of the age, in archery, running, leaping, and wrestling; in mock fights, and gallant and romantic triumphs.

"A _standard_ was the prize of emulation in the sports celebrated on the _Rood-eye_. But in the year 1609 the amusements took a new form; and under the reign of the peaceful JAMES the youthful cavaliers laid aside their mimic war, and horse-racing commenced.

"The first prizes we hear of after the suppression of the triumph, were a bell and bowl to be run for on Saint George's day, which were provided in 1609 by Mr. Robert Amery, formerly Sheriff of the city, and were brought down to the _Rood-eye_ with great solemnity. This seems to have been the origin of the plate given by the city, and annually ran for on the same day to the present time. A bell was a common prize. A little golden bell was the reward of victory in 1607 at the races near York; whence came the proverb, for success of any kind, _to bear the bell_."--_Pennant's Tour through Wales_, vol. I. pp. 253, 254, 255, 256, 257.

While walking around the walls of Chester, the duchess and her party encountered a handsome young stranger, who was also promenading this frequented walk.--We have already premised the narrowness of the walls, that they in some parts only admitted two persons to walk abreast.--The stranger, to make way, retired to a small recess nigh one of the towers, and courteously bowed as the party passed onward.

His eyes were deeply rivetted upon the Lady Adelaide, while her's seemed as intently fixed upon him. Thrice during their walk, in a similar manner, they encountered the stranger; at the last meeting it so happened that Adelaide (accidentally, no doubt,) dropped her glove just as the stranger met her; he raised it from the ground, and in the most courteous and graceful manner restored it. While in the act of returning the glove to its fair owner, it so happened that his hand touched her's; instantly the blood mounted to her cheek, and she deeply blushed; but sweetly smiling, she politely thanked him, made her obeisance, and passed on.

"Who can this stranger be?" thought Adelaide to herself. "He is surely no ordinary being--none of the common-place creatures of this earth. And oh, his fine manly beautiful countenance that seems born to command!"

Then, with a sigh, "she thought too that he looked likewise as if born to love. Oh, what I would give (just from mere curiosity!) to know his name and rank;--there can be no doubt but that he must be a person of distinction."

After this mental soliloquy she hastened to rejoin the duchess and her aunts. They all now returned to "the White Lion;" and the next day was to be devoted to their visit to the episcopal palace, to pay their respects to the Bishop of Chester and Mrs. Cartwright. The evening proving remarkably fine, Sir Patricius ventured to propose a walk to the ladies, to view the interior of the city, the shops, "the rows," &c. As they passed along, they observed that many of the houses were of wood, and most of them built of brick, and wooden frame-work, alternately painted black and white, in certainly a most coffin-like fashion. The pinnacles and gables, they observed, were adorned with various curious and grotesque carvings. Sir Patricius seemed now very anxious to display all his gothic lore.

"This, my Lady Duchess," he observed, "is in verity a most ancient, venerable city; and perhaps the most striking of the many peculiarities in which it abounds are these remarkable covered galleries, or, as they are ycleped, 'Rows,' which extend the entire length on each side of many of the streets in front of the range of shops, which are covered over head, and you ascend them from the four principal streets by flights of stairs. The effect is as if the front room in every first floor was scooped out, and the upper stories of the premises supported on pillars, while the lower tier of rooms, thus purloined, are occupied as shops. The space thus scooped out forms a covered gallery on each side of the street, with a ballustrade or railing in front, over which various goods are flung for exposure to the public--namely, silks, stuffs, shawls, &c. This ballustrade faces the street; the back parlours of each house thus circumstanced are converted into rows of shops, and are a great convenience to the public, from the facility of passing from street to street, effectually secured from rain or heat, affording a sheltered walk in winter and a shady one in summer to both inhabitants and strangers. The streets had been excavated out of the earth, and are in many places several feet below the surface. The carriages drive far below the levels of the kitchens, on a line with the range of shops.

"There can be no question, my Lady, whatever," added Sir Patricius, looking very knowingly, and taking with much gravity a pinch of snuff from his Carolus snuff-box, "there can be no doubt," said he, "but that these 'rows' are precisely the same as the ancient _vestibules_, and appear evidently to have been a form of building preserved from the time that this city was possessed by the Romans. These _vestibules_ were built before the doors, midway between the streets and the houses, and were the places where dependants waited for the coming forth of their patrons, and under which they might walk, and pass away the tedious minutes of expectation. Plautus, in the third act of his _Mostellaria_, describes both their situation and their use,[28] namely, that the vestibule in front of the house answered the purpose of a piazza, or covered gallery. The shops beneath these 'rows' were certainly the _cryptæ_ and _apothecæ_, the magazines and repositories for the various necessaries of the owners of the houses."

[28] 'Viden' vestibulum ante ædes, et ambulacrum ejusmodi?

The party had now descended from the rows, and pursued their route under one of the arched gateways ascending from the walls, when who should at this time be seen but the youthful stranger whom they had encountered in their morning walk. He took off his hat and lowly bowed. Adelaide, blushing, returned the salute, being the only one of the party who had caught a glimpse of him--the duchess and her sisters listening in wonderment at the learned lore which Sir Patricius had displayed and poured forth with such wondrous volubility; and he was himself, in sooth, too much occupied by his own eloquence, to see, to hear, to think of ought but old Plautus, the _Colonia Devana_, and the Roman centurions!

The duchess and her party having returned to "the White Lion," tea was immediately ordered; and as Sir Patricius had most ably done his part at the morning collation as well as at dinner, he thought it only decorous to go supperless to bed, which deficit he was, however, resolved to make up from the supplies of the tea-table. They all shortly retired to rest, the ladies complaining that they had not as yet got the tossing of the vessel from their heads, nor the shaking of the Roman paved way from their shoulders.

"After all," said Sir Patricius, "however, commend me the Romans, whether for their armies, their victories, for making roads, or manufacturing cheese!"

The duchess took this as the signal for departing, aware that if this topic were once begun, it would prove no easy matter to stop Sir Patricius in his eulogium on the Romans.

The next day, at meet season and time, the duchess, attended by her party, drove to the episcopal palace, and found the bishop and his lady at home, expecting their arrival. But it is necessary that the reader should be previously introduced to the bishop and his lady.

The Right Reverend Doctor Cartwright, Lord Bishop of Chester, was in the sixty-first or second year of his age, and having passed by the sunny side of his sexagesimal year, was verging fast to his grand climacteric; he enjoyed a strong and healthy old age. Piety was stamped on his fine expanded brow, and benevolence and good-humour sparkled in his eyes, and played upon his lips; his eyes were hazel, large and intelligent, beaming beneath his deep black eye-brows; his nose was aquiline; his figure tall and graceful. He wore a black camlet riding-coat; his hat was of the episcopal fashion; his peruke was bushy and well powdered; and in his right hand he carried an ivory-headed cane, not from necessity, but from choice.

Mrs. Cartwright was somewhat further advanced in years than her Right Reverend Lord. She had never, even in youth, been accounted handsome; however, the expression of her countenance was pleasing, and accompanied withal by a liveliness and good-humour, approaching somewhat the _vis comica_, but in no way allied to the satirical. Mrs. Cartwright was a plain, honest, excellent woman, possessed of a good understanding, and considered in those times as being well informed. No heart was ever found more fond of doing a kind, generous, and benevolent act, many of which are on record; but this was none of her seeking, as no one disliked ostentation more than what she did; her desire was to do good without its being promulgated. The bishop and his lady never had any children, but they were too wise and grateful to make themselves miserable upon this account, and lived contented and happy upon those blessings which providence had bounteously bestowed, without vainly and impiously repining for what they never had possessed. Loving and beloved, this couple lived mated and matched, regarded and respected by all ranks and conditions in society. They were never weary of well-doing; daily acts of charity, hospitality, generosity, and kindness, emanated from the kind and excellent feelings congenial to them both; indeed they fully verified the words of the inspired Psalmist: "The voice of joy and health is in the dwellings of the righteous."

Such were the Bishop of Chester and his lady, to whom the duchess and her train now presented themselves, and by whom they were most warmly and affectionately received.

"Welcome! most heartily welcome, my good, excellent, worthy Lady Duchess," exclaimed the bishop, warmly taking her Grace by the hand; at the same moment almost she was cordially embraced by Mrs. Cartwright.

"A kind and warm welcome to you and yours," continued the bishop. Then looking intently at Adelaide, he pressed warmly her hand, saying to the duchess, "Beshrew my heart, but, lady, thy daughter is most passing fair, exceeding fair; nor hath fame in aught out-heralded the Lady Adelaide's beauty!"

The duchess made a low courtesy, and thanked his lordship for his polite gallantry. "But," said the duchess in an under tone, "when, my Lord, you shall know more of my daughter, I trust that you will like her mind better then than now you like her visage." Next, aloud, her Grace said, "My daughter has reason, my lord, to be proud of your praise, for _laudari a laudato_--your lordship knows the rest."

"No, my Lady Duchess, no! I am no orator, and, I thank God, no politician! I am no great man, albeit I am a peer spiritual, and so forth; therefore my praise on that score can be of but little value indeed!"

"Not so, my Lord, the praise of a good man ever is of value."

The bishop bowed. His Lordship next proposed a walk in his garden; and then they adjourned to Chester walls, which closely adjoin the palace, to promenade until dinner. Adelaide looked to the left and right, but "the unknown knight of Chester walls" was not to be seen. Upon their return to the episcopal palace dinner was ready, and soon smoked upon the hospitable board. It was a sumptuous entertainment. The bishop having helped the ladies, soon discovered that Sir Patricius was in complete possession of the _scavoir vivre_.

"I warmly recommend you; Sir Placebo--Sir Patricius, I beg your pardon--to have some Severn salmon, or some choice dories, caught in the Llyn; and I do think, above all, that I can speak in positive commendation of some stewed carp, which is truly delicious. I saw them caught yesterday (for I am fond of fishing) in that _Piscosus amnis_, which we call the Vyrnyn."

"No, my Lord, I thank you, I have just made a grand assault, _vi et furca_, upon your venison, which is actually the finest I have ever enjoyed. The lean is so ruddy and the fat is so white, that I think, my Lord, I shall just try a _modicum_ more, [the fourth time he was helped!] and some sweet sauce withal!"

Indeed the opinion and "great capabilities," to use his own phrase, of Sir Patricius Placebo, at a well-chosen dinner, were never yet, even by his enemies, considered as apocryphal; and in the culinary calendar this notable day was deserving of a mark of approbation, and should be held in savoury remembrance by every follower of Epicurus. The first and second course removed, cheese was put down, to which Sir Patricius helped himself liberally.

"My Lord, your Cheshire is positively excellent. We are indebted to the victorious _Colonia Devana_ for it. To these same Roman centurions who introduced the art of cheese-making, until then unknown in England, into Cheshire; and for my part, my Lord; to adventure upon a pun, I would call this admirable cheese _divina_.--Ha, ha, ha! It is every way deserving of the _Cretâ notanda_ of Horace, or the _Cretâ notare_ of Persius: it should truly be marked with white chalk in the calendar!"

"It seems, Sir Patricius, that you are disposed to _chalk your cheese_ with a note of admiration!--eh? Ha, ha, ha. However, I certainly agree with you that the art of cheese-making to be the most valuable memorial which the Romans have left us, and in an especial manner to this country. Indeed so extensively was cheese-making carried on that these cohorts exported large quantities of cheese, not only to the distant colonies, but even to imperial Rome herself!"

"Most true, my Lord; and to such perfection has it been brought, that it is now (_me judice_) far superior to any imported from classic Italy, or dull, plodding Batavia. Centuries have passed by, and Rome's centurions have mixed their dust with the defunct Cæsars, but Cheshire cheese still holds its high estimation; and long may it do so, while British palates, teeth, and taste remain--_Semperque manebit!_"

A magnificent dessert, crowned with the oldest and choicest wines, concluded this princely banquet, and each day's entertainment, although varied, was equally as splendid as the feast we have recorded.

The next day being the sabbath day, all the guests accompanied Mrs. Cartwright to the cathedral, (where the bishop was to preach) and sat in that lady's seat in the gallery. As soon as the service was over the party proceeded to inspect this grand and venerable pile.

"The cathedral of Chester was built," as the bishop informed the duchess, "during the reigns of Henry VI., VII., VIII." He observed that there was much to admire in the beautiful west end of the nave. "The window over the door is richly adorned with much tasteful tracery, and architrave of the door enriched with figures and other subjects in sculpture. The choir is considered handsome, and the gothic tabernacle work over the stalls is carved in a light and elegant manner. The arches in the galleries are divided by slender pillars of admirable conformation."

His Lordship then came to the bishop's throne, which he pointed out as standing on a stone base; and he observed that the form was an oblong square, or parallelogram, which was remarkable for its sculpture, each side being richly ornamented with gothic carvings, with arches and pinnacles. Around the upper part of the canopy stands a range of little images, designed to represent the kings and saints of the Mercian kingdom. The party now advanced to the chancel, where there are four stone stalls for the officiating priests, richly ornamented above with carved gothic work. The duchess and Lady Adelaide particularly admired the magnificent piece of tapestry which adorns the altar; it represents Elmias the sorcerer struck blind by Saint Paul. The design is taken from one of the cartoons of Raffaelle, and the execution is truly admirable.

The bishop and his noble guests returned to the palace, where a magnificent dinner was prepared for them, and the bishop entertained Sir Patricius Placebo, so soon as the ladies retired, with "_A brief and succinct account_," as his lordship termed it, "of the ecclesiastical state of the ancient city of Chester." But as two flasks of old Burgundy disappeared during the narration, we are somewhat apprehensive that it would prove rather heavy on our reader's hands, and therefore we shall in _toto_ decline the discussion.

The duchess and her family having very pleasantly passed a week at the palace, now prepared for their regretted departure, and next sadly to bid an affectionate farewell. Mrs. Cartwright obtained a promise from the duchess of writing to her as soon as her Grace should reach either Amiens or Lille. They proceeded to the town of Tarporly, and thence to Wrexam, where they stopped to change horses and to take some refreshment.

Wrexam is the largest town in North Wales, and its parish the most numerous; it is the principal town of Denbighshire. Struck by the beauty and airy lightness of the lofty tower of Wrexam church, the duchess and Lady Adelaide resolved, while the necessary operations at the inn were going forward, to wend their way to visit this fine gothic pile; and Sir Patricius, "albeit," as he said himself pleasantly enough upon the occasion, "although he was much more addicted, he must needs confess, to the _memento vivere_ than the _memento mori_" yet, nevertheless, right gallantly esquired the ladies.

"The church of Wrexam is the glory not only of the place, but of North Wales." The inside of the church is very spacious, and consists of a nave, two aisles, and a chancel. Much grotesque carving surmounts the capitals of the various pillars in the nave, and within the arches are placed many armorial bearings of the ancient British and Saxon princes. Many of the monuments which adorn the nave and the aisles are admirably designed, and the sculpture exceedingly fine. The epitaphs are numerous and curious: many a "_hic jacet_ Ap-Howel--Ap-Morgan--Ap-Jhones," may be found in the church and in the church-yard. On the outside of the church is placed a great variety of ludicrous and grotesque sculpture. The steeple is an extremely handsome tower, richly ornamented on three sides with rows of saints placed in rich gothic niches. Among the group is that of Saint Giles, the patron saint of the church, with the hind that so miraculously nourished him in the desert, as monkish legends tell. At every angle of the church tower is a light turret, with a winding stair-case, twenty-four feet high. The entire height of the church tower, which is seen to a considerable distance, is one hundred and twenty-five feet. The church was built in the reign of Henry VIII., and is in the florid style of gothic architecture.

Know, gentle reader, that there occurred a little incident in Wrexam church, which must needs have the additament of being known unto thee. When the noble travellers entered the nave they were much struck by beholding a robin perched upon a brass chandelier, which was suspended from the ceiling in the nave, opposite to the reading-desk. The minister was engaged in reading the Psalms, the clerk the responses; and the robin expanding his wings, and straining his little throat, as if to overpower and surpass their voices conjoined. The congregation consisted of but three elderly ladies. It was of a week day, to which circumstance, in all probability, was to be attributed the paucity of the congregation.

This little occurrence produced the following lines from the pen of Lady Adelaide:--

THE RED-BREAST,

IN WREXAM CHURCH, DENBIGHSHIRE,

I roam'd on a cheerful bright summer morning, The sun, unclouded, the hills was adorning; My heart beat in transport, but brief was the hour, When onward I hasten'd for Wrexam's famed tow'r, A feeling I have--and that feeling it led, For pensive the pleasure to muse o'er the dead; And ponder o'er graves where the good are at rest; Who no son of sorrow yet ever oppress'd. "Glad tidings and peace" are of heavenly birth; Fulfil them, frail mortals, by kindness on earth! Oh, still the wise counsel, "Bear yet, and forbear!" We daily from wisdom sublunar may hear. The blest precept, "Forgive, and then be forgiv'n!" Is written alone in the records of heav'n.

The church door I enter'd.--The morning was young; Delighted I heard a sweet Redbreast who sung: The notes were seraphic, distinct, shrill, and clear, Sweet Robin the choirist on high chandelier! Oft quiver'd his bosom, and flutter'd his wing, While matins he chanted to heaven's high King! The hour was early;--and time swiftly soon fled When Robin allur'd me from tombs of the dead.

That space then sufficient I might not well spare An hour to devote in the temple of prayer.

Farewell, tuneful warbler, farewell to thy lay, Which fondly I'll cherish for many a day! Far hence, all unwilling, from thee I depart; Impress'd be thy memory still on my heart!

The duchess and Lady Adelaide felt with much sensibility the contrariety between the notes of the tuneful Redbreast and the nasal base of the veteran clerk slowly drawling forth the responses. Lady Adelaide compared the one to the other as the silvery tone of the Welch harp, contrasted with the wintry gale that sweeps o'er Snowden.

From Wrexam, where the horses were baited, and our noble travellers refreshed, they onward pursued their journey, passing through Llangollen, and visiting its lovely vale. Highly pleased was every one with the beautiful scenery through which they had passed, the course of the Dee, and the windings of the Severn; while with gratified recollections they thought on the very kind and hospitable reception which they had experienced at Chester palace. They proceeded next by way of Oswestry and Shrewsbury, on their route for Bristol; in the performance of which journey, for the present, we must leave our distinguished travellers.