But to these beauties where the finger of art has but worked at the bidding of nature, have been added many matters of which the taste is more than questionable. Park Place fell into the hands of the late Marshal Conway towards the end of the last century, and he made the improvement of it the amusement of his later days; and whilst it is to him that it is indebted for much of its real beauty, he must bear the censure for its barbarisms.

Among the additions which he made is one of those annoying things, a "classic" artificial ruina Roman amphitheatre-but it was in the taste of the age, and it has its admirers still. There is also a Druid's Temple, not a mere toylike imitation, like several that were manufactured to decorate the gardens of onr grandfathers, but a genuine Druidic relic brought here from Jersey! It was found in that island in 1785, by some workmen who were employed in removing what appeared to be a barrow, on the summit of a hill near St. Heliers. It has been conjectured that the sacred stones were covered by the Druids on some occasion of danger. There are forty-five stones, generally of about seven feet in height, four or five in breadth, and from one to three in thickness: they are arranged in a circle, it is said in the exact positions which they occupied in their original situation. General Conway was Governor of Jersey at the time of the discovery, and at his departure the inhabitants, as is recorded upon it in a French inscription, presented him with the "Temple" as a mark of their esteem! The bridge which the General built here out of the walls of Reading Abbey has been already mentioned; it is formed of large masses of the wall put together in a very singular manner. But the proprietor of

this place was determined to bring together all kinds of interesting objects. His Roman ruin is approached by a subterraneous passage several hundred feet in length, which leads to a valley planted with cypress, at the end of which the amphitheatre is placed. There is also a walk overhung with weeping-willows, which leads to a marble tomb. Also not far off a cottage, close to which is a cavern. To add to the medley there has quite recently been a pretty boat-house built by the river, in the Gothic style, with a figure of a saint placed in a niche in the front: a good many alterations have, however, been made lately, and I am not sure that all the above remain in their former state.

From the river the wooded heights of Park Place are remarkably beautiful: the hanging woods and steep chalky cliffs contrast finely with the softened hills and woods in the distance, and the broad stream, which is all along here thickly studded with little islands, and enlivened by flocks of swans. But to enjoy this part thoroughly, you must take a boat and row gently along under Park Place, in which way only can the full effect of its loveliness be appreciated.

But we must loiter no longer, for—

"Now twilight grey

Has in her silver livery all things clad."

And we will step quickly to our hostel, and there indulge in the "sober certainty of waking bliss" over a well browned steak or dainty trout, to which the gentle rambler will add barley wine, or port or claret, according to the promptings of his purse or palate-unless, indeed, he be one of the picked fashion that can endure nought besides "the stream

in

which, beautifully tinged and deliciously flavoured with the Chinese leaf, smokes in the elegant porcelain," as a delicate Meditator of the last century wrote-for shortness or grace-instead of Tea. And we can put up this evening at an inn of fame -the Red Lion, where Shenstone wrote his well known Lines on an Inn.' Our English sage has also been there with his Scottish disciple, and as he added a commentary to the lines, we will listen to that along with his quotation of them. "We happened," says Boswell, "to lie this night at the inn at Henley, where Shenstone wrote these lines. 'There is no private house,' said Dr. Johnson, which people can enjoy themselves so well as at a capital tavern. Let there be ever so great plenty of good things, ever so much grandeur, ever so much elegance, ever so much desire that everybody should be easy; in the nature of things it cannot be there must always be some degree of care and anxiety. The master of the house is anxious to entertain his guests; the guests are anxious to be agreeable to him: and no man, but a very impudent dog indeed, can as freely command what is in another man's house, as if it were his own. Whereas, at a tavern there is a general freedom from anxiety. You are sure you are welcome; and the more noise you make, the more trouble you give, the more good things you call for, the welcomer you are. No servants will attend you with the alacrity which waiters do, who are incited by the prospect of an immediate reward in proportion as they please. No, sir; there is nothing which has yet been contrived by man, by which so much happiness is produced as by a good tavern or inn.'

He then repeated with great emotion Shenstone's

lines:

'Whoe'er has travell'd life's dull round,
Where'er his stages may have been,
May sigh to think he still has found

The warmest welcome at an inn.'' "*

A good deal of virtuous indignation has been expended upon Shenstone for these lines, which have been pronounced to be a libel upon English hospitality, and even human nature; but he is bravely backed by Johnson; and there is no doubt a great deal of truth in them-though that, we know, may but increase the libel. Johnson's reasoning is curious; and he was constant in it. Hawkins says that he used to assert "that a tavern chair was the throne of human felicity -a saying, by the way, which, with its context, may have suggested a celebrated passage in Washington Irving's Essay.

"Shall I not take mine ease in mine Inn ?"

Boswell's Johnson, vi. 81, ed. 1835. I am, of course, aware that Boswell makes the conversation to have taken place at the inn at Chapelhouse, but he tells us in immediate connexion with it, that they stayed the night at Shenstone's inn, and it was quite in Johnson's manner to quote at any place a poetic passage that related to it, while Boswell might easily have mistaken the reference in his notes at the distance of fourteen years. We will therefore add Johnson's Eulogy on an Inn' to the fame of the Red Lion.

CHAPTER XII.

MODERN MONKS.

ACCORDING to Dr. Plot, Henley-upon-Thames is the oldest town in Oxfordshire; its very name denotes its antiquity; hen old, ley place. Whatever its age may be, it has nothing old in its look. It may in ancient times have had houses, and probably it had, but it has retained none of them. It has nought old now. But though there is no ground for Dr. Plot's conjecture, and no mention of the town till long after the Conquest, it is, doubtless, of considerable antiquity. In the earliest records of the corporation it is called Hanleganz and Hanneburg. In its history the only circumstance of note is that it was, in 1643, the scene of an engagement between the troops of Charles and those of the Parliament.

Henley is a neat town, with above four thousand inhabitants; and is pleasantly situated on ground that slopes up gently from the Thames. It has four good streets, at the intersection of which stand a plain cross and conduit. The houses are generally well-built; and there are several large inns, to which there was formerly a considerable posting trade attached, but that is almost destroyed by the railway; and the inns are now in a great measure dependent on the market, which is one of the largest corn-markets in England. In Camden's