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These lines have immortalized the dying scene of that brave soldier.

Then near by is the statue of Bishop Heber, the "Soldier of the Cross," whose victories, though bloodless, were as worthy of immortality. It is a kneeling figure by Chantrey.

There is a statue of Howard the philanthropist, by Bacon. The expression of the face is beautiful. Then statues to military and naval heroes, to great scholars, surgeons, physicians, and historians.

Standing beneath the great dome, the effect of the light is admirable. It seems as though the glorious heavens roofed over the Cathedral. The dome is the finest in the world, it is said, save that of St. Peter's, which I shall some day see.

At night we accompanied a party of pleasant friends to the Princess's Theatre. The play was "Sardanapalus," written by Lord Byron, and put upon the stage by Kean. Until after the discoveries in Nineveh and Babylon by Layard, it had been deemed impossible to adapt this remarkable drama to the stage. After great study of the drapery of the sculpture and statuary brought thence, Kean arranged the tragedy as an acting play, having all the dresses made precisely like those represented in the frescoes. The actors then studied the pose and attitudes of these figures. It really seemed as though life had suddenly entered the pictured forms of the "olden time," and they had stepped forth from their immobility, and mingled again in the brilliant pageant of existence. The banquet scene, where the almas (or dancing girls) were introduced, was exceedingly gorgeous, Then their dress and mode of dancing were unique and picturesque. The conflagration at the finale was singularly grand and fearful. Kean and his wife filled the principal parts. The Princess's Theatre is the finest I have seen except the Opera House.

CHAPTER VIII.

July 12th. I HAVE been truly happy for the last two days. Dear Lady Emmeline has spent them with me.

When we reached London she had already gone to Dover, en route for Norway and Sweden; but the steamer being delayed, she ran up to the city, expressly to see me. Ah! what a joy it was again to meet her! Kind, affectionate, and precious friend that she has been to me for long, long years. Once more to see her had been the greatest inducement to visit England. I gave up every engagement, that we might pass all the hours of her sojourn together. She drove us in her fine equipage through the parks, around the environs of London, and with her we revisited many of the monuments of the great city.

She brought me a kind invitation from her father to spend the month of December at Belvoir Castle, but I could not accept it, for by that period we shall be in our own home. I, however, promised her to make a short visit there ere we left for the Continent.

Lady Emmeline had been a great wanderer since we parted by the "shores of the Mexican sea. She had travelled through Mexico, had crossed the Isthmus of Panama, had been upon the Andes, in the Islands of the West Indies,

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in Madeira, in Portugal, and Spain. Her descriptions of all these countries were most graphic and eloquent, and for hours I listened in wrapt attention to her vivid delineations of character and portrayal of scenery.

What a woman of genius she is! What enthusiasm and energy she possesses! Her heart is the home of every noble virtue, of every refined sentiment. How sweetly she talked of my mother and my child! How appreciatively she spoke of America-above all, of the United States. With what pride she dwelt upon the onward progress of the AngloSaxon race in the New World. Although belonging to the highest rank of the English aristocracy, she is free from all prejudice towards our institutions. She is liberal, frank, and generous in opinion. Victoria, her sweet young daughter, accompanied her, now grown to be a lovely woman, gifted, well educated, artless and unaffected in manner. She possesses a great talent for painting, and her sketchbook, containing views from many lands, is a treasure.

I lingered with this dearly loved friend until the hour of her departure. Although our separation was to be brief (as we proposed meeting in six weeks), I parted from her with deepest regret and sad emotion. Most truly kind has she been, and from her cordial mention of me, all her family have united in bestowing a welcome, delightful as it has been flattering and gratifying.

CHAPTER IX.

July 14th. WE had a delightful ride, at early morning, to Windsor. This castellated palace is massive and majestic. It has all the elegance of modern life, and the hallowed associations of antiquity.

William the Conqueror began the erection of this noble edifice, leaving its completion, however, to the sovereigns who succeeded him.

After ascending a multitude of stone steps, we found ourselves in the court of the Castle, and entered thence into St. George's Chapel, built in the Gothic style, with lofty windows. It contains the tombs of the three last kings of Eng land, and many celebrated personages are buried within little chapels, separated from the aisles by iron railings. At our request, the guide opened for us that of the Rutland family. There we saw two effigies, representing Lord and Lady Manners de Ross, the first of the family who came over with William the Conqueror. The date upon the tomb was 1500. Immediately opposite to this monument, was that of the Wharncliffe family.

In the St. George Chapel is the cenotaph of Princess Charlotte. It is a very singular monument. The body of

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the Princess is presented at the moment life has left it. A covering is thrown over it, through which is seen the relaxation of death, without its rigidity. Several forms are bending around it, in the muteness of despair, while above them rises a form, with wings, springing upwards to heaven. The face has a mingled expression of joy and triumph. Two angels are hovering around. One holds, fast folded to its bosom, the infant of the Princess; the other, with clasped hands, seems to lead the way to realms above.

In the choir are the stalls of the Knights of the Garter, with their names on plates on the carved chairs, and their banners hanging above them.

We next proceeded to the State apartments, which are splendid, from their wealth of pictures. There were many by Rembrandt, Corregio, Rubens, Van Dyke, Holbein, Claude Lorraine, ana Poussin.

The Audience Chamber was panelled with gobelin tapestry, portraying Scriptural scenes in the history of Mordecai, of Esther and Haman. In this room is also a picture of Mary Queen of Scots, said to be the most perfect resemblance of her in existence. There is also a small painting representing the beheading of the hapless queen.

In another room the entire tragedy of Medea is woven in tapestry, from the moment of cutting down the Golden Fleece by Jason, to the last scene, where the infuriated Medea bears away the bodies of her children, murdered by her own hand, to revenge the infidelity of Jason. The expression of these pictures is spirited and life-like.

We passed through a number of picture-galleries, each bearing the name of the painter to whose pictures it was devoted. The Van Dyke gallery was filled with his works— many pictures of Charles the First, and his queen, Maria Henrietta, then the beauties of that reign. The "Zucca