currence which the monthly chronologer in the London Magazine thus relates:

"An highwayman having committed several robberies on Finchley Common, was pursued to London, when he thought himself safe, but was, in a little time, discovered at a public-house in Burlington Gardens, refreshing himself and his horse; however, he had time to remount, and rode through Hyde Park, in which there were several gentlemen's servants airing their horses, who, taking the alarm, pursued him closely as far as Fulham Fields, where, finding no probability of escaping, he threw money among some country people who were at work in the field, and told them they would soon see the end of an unfortunate man. He had no sooner spoke these words but he pulled out a pistol, clapped it to his ear, and shot himself directly, before his pursuers could prevent him. The coroner's inquest brought in their verdict, and he was buried in a cross road, with a stake drove through him ; but 't was not known who he was."*

In the Beauties of England and Wales, "Purser's Cross" is said to have been corrupted from "Parson's Cross," and the vicinity of Parson's Green is mentioned in support of the conjecture. However, that Purser, and not Percy Cross, has been for many years the usual mode of writing the name of this locality is established by the Annual Register for 1781, where the following remarkable coincidence is mentioned :

"Died, 30th December, 1780, at Purser's Cross, Fulham, Mrs. Elizabeth and Mrs. Francis Turberville, in the seventyseventh year of their ages, of ancient and respectable west country family; they were twin sisters, and both died unmarried. What adds to the singularity of this circumstance, they were both born the same day, never were known to live separate, died within a few days of each other, and were interred on the same day."

Park House presents a fac-simile of an old mansion which stood precisely on the same site, and was known as Quibus Hall, a name, as is conjectured, bestowed upon it in consequence of some dispute respecting

possession between the co-heirs of Sir Michael Wharton, who died about 1725. When rebuilt by Mr. Holland for the late Mr. Powell, it was called High Elms House, and was for some time occupied as a school, conducted by the Rev. Thos. Bowen, who published in 1798 Thoughts on the Necessity of Moral Discipline in Prisons. After Mr. Bowen's death in the following year, his widow, with the assistance of the Rev. Joshua Ruddock, carried on the establishment until 1825, since which time Park House has been the occasional residence of Mr. Powell, of Quex, in the Isle of Thanet. The stables of Park House stand upon the site of an old dwelling, taken down in 1826, which was called "Rosamond's Bower," a name that has been transferred to a cottage on the opposite side of Parson's Green Lane.

Proceeding forward from Purser's Cross, on the main Fulham Road, where St. Peter's Villa may be noticed as the residence of Madame Garcia in 1842, about a quarter of a mile, brings us to

nunciation; and he adds that tradition makes it a hunting-seat of Charles II., and asserts that an extensive park was attached to it; but Faulkner also tells us that Munster House "was during the greater part of the seventeenth century, the residence and property of Sir William Powell, Bart., who founded the alms-houses." How, after this statement, Mr. Faulkner could have admitted the tradition, requires some explanation, as he seems to have followed, without acknowledgment, the particulars supplied to Lysons from authentic documents by Mr. Deere, of the Auditor's Office, who appears merely to have informed that gentleman, that among the title-deeds of this property there is one of Sir Edward Powell's, dated 1640, and that Sir William Powell's will bears date 1680. According to the same unquestionable records, Munster House came from the Powells into the possession of Sir John Williams, Bart., of Pengethly, Monmouthshire.

In 1795, Lysons says that Munster House was "occupied as a school." Faulkner, in 1813, states that it was "in the occupation of M. Sampayo, a Portuguese merchant." And his successor in the tenancy was John Wilson Croker, Esq. M.P., then secretary of the Admiralty, and now the Right Hon. Mr. Croker, a gentleman who brilliantly retired into private life, but whose character is so well known, and has been so often discussed in political and literary circles, that I shall only venture to remark the local coincidence of three indefatigable secretaries of the Admiralty, during the most critical periods of England's history-namely, Sir Philip Stevens, Sir Evan Nepean, and Mr. Croker, having selected the quietude of Fulham as the most convenient and attractive position in the neighbourhood of London, where they might momentarily relax from the arduous strain of official duties.

About 1820, Mr. Croker, resigned Munster House as a residence, after having externally decorated it with various Cockney embattlements of brick, and collected there many curious works of art, possibly with a view of reconstruction. In the garden two marble

FULHAM LODGE

stands on the opposite, or south side, of the road from Munster House, and not many yards beyond it. This cottage, for it is no more, was a favourite retirement of the late Duke of York; but the general appearance has been much altered by the building of Munster Terrace, and other changes. An affecting story is told by George Colman, the younger, connected with his own feelings while on a visit here. He had lost sight of an old college friend, the Rev. Robert Lowth, son of the Bishop of London, from the year 1781 to 1822 (one and forty years!), when Colman was surprised and pleased by the receipt of the following letter, written and left upon his table by a gentleman who had called when he was not at home:

August 16, 1822.

"DEAR COLMAN,- It may be some five-and-thirty years since we met, and I believe as near forty years as may be since I was promoted from my garret, No. 3 Peckwater, into your ci-devant rooms in the old Quad, on which occasion I bought your things. Of all your household furniture I possess but one article, which I removed with myself to my first house and castle in Essex, as a very be fitting parsonage sideboard, viz. a mabogany table, with two side drawers, and which still does the state some service,' though not of plate. But I have an article of yours on a smaller scale, a certain little fat mahogany-box, furnished partially, I should say, with cakes of paint, which probably you overlooked, or undervalued as a vade-mecum, and left. And, as an exemplification of the great vanity of over-anxious care, and the safe preservation per contra, in which an article may possibly be found without any care at all, that paint-box is still in statu quo, at this present writing, having run the gauntlet, not merely of my bachelor days, but of

the practical cruelties of my thirteen children, all alive and merry, thank God! albeit as unused and as little disposed to preserve their own playthings or chattels from damage as children usually are, yet it survives! The reason why I cannot tell,' unless I kept it for the dangers it had passed.'

"Though I have been well acquainted with you publicly nearly ever since our Christ Church days, our habits, pursuits, and callings, having cast us into different countries and tracts, we have not, I think, met since the date I speak of. I have a house at Chiswick, where I rather think this nine-lived box is, and, whether it is or no, I shall be very glad if you will give me a call to dine, and take a bed, if convenient to you; and, if I cannot introduce you to your old acquaintance and recollections, I shall have great pleasure in substituting new ones,- Mrs. Lowth and eleven of our baker's dozen of olivebranches, our present complement in the house department, my eldest boy being in the West Indies, and my third having returned to the military college last Saturday, his vacation furlough having expired. As the summer begins to borrow now and then an autumn evening, the sooner you will favour me with your company the surer you will be of finding me at Grove House, the expiration of other holidays being the usual signal for weighing anchor and shifting our moorings to parsonage point. I remember you, or David Curson, had among your phrases, quondam, one of any thing being 'd-d summerly;' I trust, however, having since tasted the delights of the sweet shady side of Pall Mall, that you have worn out that prejudice, and will catch the season before it flies us, or give me a line, naming a no distant day, that I may not be elsewhere when you call, and you will much oblige, yours sincerely, "ROBERT LOWTH.

"P.S. In your address to me you must not name Chiswick, but Grove House, Turnham Green, as otherwise it goes into another postman's walk, who walks it back again to the office, and it does not reach me, per Turnham Green, peripa tetic, till the next day, which is toute autre chose."

Colman seems to have been sincerely delighted at the receipt of this letter; he answered it immediately, expressing to his old friend how much he had gratified him, and how readily he accepted the invitation.

"After refreshing my mory," says Colman, some particulars which I mentioned, I informed i

late years in the habit of suburban rustication, and that I had passed a considerable part of my summers in a house where I was intimate at Fulham, whither I desired him to direct to me, as much nearer Chiswick than my own abode, being within a few hundred yards of his old family residence, where we last parted. Whenever I was at this place, I told him, the avenue and bishop's walk by the river side, the public precincts of the moated episcopal domain, had become my favourite morning and evening lounge. I told him, indeed, merely the fact, omitting all commentary attached to it, for often had I then, and oftener have 1 since, in a solitary stroll down the avenue, thought of him, regretting the wide chasm in our intercourse, and musing upon human events."

66

Mr.

There is a regret expressed by Colman that he kept no copy of his answer, "which," he adds, was written in the flow of soul,' and at the impulse of the moment." Lowth wrote in reply to Colman, detailing in a most amusing manner his having, in the pursuit of two Cockneys, who had made an attack upon a grove of Orleans plum-trees in his grounds, taken cold, which confined him to his room.

"But for this inter poculum et labra," continued Mr. Lowth, "it was my inten. tion to have made you my first post restante, with, perhaps, a walk down the old avenue, in my way to town, that identical day; and, still hoping to accomplish three miles and back, I have hoped from day to day, but I cannot get in travelling condition, even for so short a journey. Therefore, I hope you will send me word by my new Yorkshire groom lad, that you will take pot-luck with me on Sunday as the most likely day for you to suburbise."

Colman accepted the invitation, believing from the length of Mr. Lowth's letter (three pages), and the playfulness of his old friend's communication, that nothing more than an ordinary cold was the matter with him. A note, however, which followed from one of Mr. Lowth's daughters, stated that the meeting proposed by her father must be postponed, that he "had become extremely unwell, that bleeding and cupping had been prescribed," and the most perfect quiet enjoined.

On the day after the receipt of this note, Colman sent over to Grove House, Chiswick, to make inquiries

as to Mr. Lowth's health, when the reply given by an elderly female at the gate, after considerable delay, was that "her master was no more."

A letter from Dr. Badeley to Colman dated 22d August, 1822, confirmed the melancholy intelligence, which he had at first hesitated to believe. It stated that "the decease of Mr. Lowth took place on Sunday evening," the very evening appointed by him for their anticipated happy reunion; and that his remains were to be interred in the family vault at Fulham on Monday morning at ten o'clock.

"I continued," said Colman, "at Fulbam Lodge, which is nearer in a direct line to the church than to the Bishop's Palace and the old avenue.' On Monday the adjacent steeple gave early notice of the approaching funeral; religion and sorrow mingled within me while the slow and mournful tolling of the bell smote upon my heart. Selfish feelings, too, though secondary, might now and then obtrude, for they are implanted in our nature. My departed friend was about my own age, we had entered the field nearly at the same time, we had fought, indeed, our chief battles asunder, but in our younger days he had been my comrade, close to me in the ranks; he bad fallen, and my own turn might speedily follow."

These are the ideas which George Colman the younger records as having passed through his mind while an inmate of Fulham Lodge :

"My walk next morning," he says, "was to the sepulchre of the Lowths, to indulge in the mournful satisfaction of viewing the depository of my poor friend's remains. It stands in the churchyard, a few paces from the eastern end of the ancient church at Fulham. The surrounding earth, trampled by recent footsteps, and a slab of marble which had been evidently taken out and replaced in the side of the tomb, too plainly presented traces of those rites which had been performed on the previous day. For several mornings I repeated my walk thither, and no summer has since glided away, except the last, when my sojournment at Fulham was suspended, without my visiting the spot and heaving a sigh to the memory of Robert Lowth."

Theodore Hook's manuscript Diary contains the following entries with reference to visits made by him at Fulham Lodge :

the French Revolution, found employment as a carriage-draughtsman, which led to his forming the acquaintance of artists, and becoming a The print-publisher in London. French refugees, whose necessities obliged them to exercise their acquirements and talents as a means of support, found in Mr. Ackermann's shop a repository for the exhibition and sale of decorative articles, which elevated this branch of business to an importance that it had never before assumed in England. Ackermann's name stands prominently forward in the early history of gas and lithography in England, and must be remembered as the introducer of a species of illustrated periodicals, by the publication of the Forget-Me-Not; to which, or to similar works, nearly every honoured contemporary name in the whole circle of British literature have contributed, and which have produced a certain, but advantageously a ques tionable, influence upon the Fine Arts.

After the battle of Leipzig, Mr. Ackermann publicly advocated the cause of the starving population of many districts of Germany, in consequence of the calamities of war, with so much zeal and success, that a parliamentary grant of 100,000l. was more than doubled by a public subscription. In the spring of 1830, when residing at Ivy Lodge, he experienced a sudden attack of paralysis; and a change of air was recommended by his medical attendants. This led to Mr. Ackermann's removal to Finchley, where he died on the 30th of March, 1834.

And, now, having arrived at Fulham, we take leave of those readers who have indulgently accompanied us in our walk to that ancient village.