federations, frequently proceed thither, each member with his wife and children, or his sweetheart, to feast upon the dainties of the spot. On a fine Sunday especially, Eel-pie Island is in all its glory, thronged with "spruce citizens," "washed artisans," and " smug apprentices," who repair hither, as Byron has it "to gulp their weekly air,"

"And o'er the Thames to row the ribbon'd fair,"

or to wander in the Park, which, thanks to the public spirit of one humble individual, is still open to every pedestrian. Though somewhat of an episode, the history of the right of way through this pleasant park is deserving of mention. In the year 1758, the Princess Amelia, daughter of George the Second, who was ranger, thought fit to exclude the public; but an action was brought against her by Mr. John Lewis, a brewer, and inhabitant of Richmond, which he gained, and the Princess was forced to knock down her barriers. The public right has never since been disputed, and the memory of the patriotic brewer is still highly esteemed in all the neighbourhood, and his portraits sought after, as memorials of his courage and perseverance.

But to return again to Eel-pie Island. The

VOL. I.

L

place was the favourite resort of Kean for a few months before his death. The boatman we were fortunate enough to hire was the boatman generally employed by the great actor; and from him we learned, that after the fatigues of the night were over at the theatre, he often caused himself to be rowed to Eel-pie Island, and was there left to wander about by moonlight till two or three o'clock in the morning. The tavern used at that time to be frequented by a poetical sawyer of Twickenham, whose poetry Kean greatly admired. The first time he heard the sawyer's rhymes, he was so delighted that he made him a present of two sovereigns, and urged him to venture upon the dangerous seas of authorship. By his advice the sawyer rushed into print, and published a twopenny volume upon the beauties of Eel-pie Island, the delights of pie-eating, and various other matters of local and general interest. Kean at this time was so weak, that it was necessary to lift him in and out of the wherry,a circumstance which excited the boatman's curiosity to go and see him in Richard the Third at the Richmond theatre. "There was some difference then, I reckon," said the honest fellow; "so much, that I was almost frightened at him. He seemed on the stage to be as

strong as a giant, and strutted about so bravely, that I could scarcely believe it was the same man. Next morning he would come into my boat with a bottle of brandy in his coat-pocket, as weak as a child, until he had drunk about half the brandy, when he plucked up a little. One morning he came on board,-I shall never forget him, he was crying like a child, and sobbing as if his heart was breaking,-'twas the morning when his lady' ran away from him, and he told me all about it as well as he could for his tears. He had a bottle of brandy with him then. He gave me a quartern of it, and drank all the rest before we got to Twickenham, and then he was much better. But he was never the same man afterwards; he said his heart was broken; and I believe it was, for he never held up his head again, poor fellow !" We thought the boatman (we should mention his name George Cripps) seemed affected at the thought, and we asked if Kean had been kind to him.

66

Many's the time," replied he, "that I have carried him in my arms in and out of the boat, as if he were a baby :-but he wasn't particularly kind. He always paid me my fare, and never grumbled at it, and was very familiar and free-like. But all the watermen were fond

of him. He gave a new boat and a purse of sovereigns to be rowed for every year." "Ah! that accounts for it."

"When he died," continued the boatman, "a great many of the watermen subscribed their little mite towards his monument."

"Was there much gathered ?"

"About seven or eight hundred pounds, I think," replied the boatman; "and it was to have been placed in Richmond church; but we hear nothing of it now, or whether it's ever to be erected at all. But here we are, sir, at Twickenham church; and if you please to step ashore, I'll wait for you, and then row you up to the Grotto."

This was exactly the arrangement that suited us, and we walked into the dusty village of Twickenham, to pay our homage at the grave of Pope.

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CHAPTER VI.

Twickenham.-The Poet's Grave.-Pope's Grotto.-Relics of Genius.-Strawberry Hill.-Etymology and Chronology. The Heart of Paul Whitehead.-Swans upon the Thames.-The tragical story of Edwy and Elgiva.-An odd petition of the inhabitants of Kingston.

OW simple, neat, quiet, and un

assuming are all the village churches of England!

It is

worth a man's while, whose

unlucky destiny compels him

to fritter himself away among brick walls for six days of the week, to walk out on a Sunday morning ten or twelve miles to church, -far away from the tumult and the dust, to some secluded hamlet or village, where he may worship his Maker,- not more earnestly, indeed, but more refreshed in mind and body, than he could in one of the more pompous temples of the metropolis, where saucy wealth elbows him still, and where he cannot procure a seat, unless he gives evidence of his gentility by the tender of a shilling. It was