that done by your servants?' 'It is no doubt with many a compulsory process. One rides out (perhaps!) with his wife; she is nervous, dyspeptic, hysterical, and must be indulged; or she is envious and proud, and is outshining a rival, and his purse suffers; or it is a little icicle hanging by its mother's ear, when it would be writing a billetdoux; or the handsome brother, who must go out with the old dowager, just at the hour he had a pleasant assignation, or a match at the cock-pit; or it is my Lady Duchess, tired of the world, neither wishing to see nor be seen, who just rides out from habit. The only creature which seems to me really to enjoy the drive, is her ladyship's poodle. It sets its fore-feet upon the margin of the coach, and looks out with an air of genteel impudence, which the commonalty of dogs, or dogs not used to good society, will in vain strive to acquire. Don't forget that a puppy's insolence is privileged here, or resented at the peril of one's life.*

But here I am moralizing, as if the day stood still; and the four hundred acres of Hyde-Park are to be traversed on foot. Why pique one's self on good riding? It is a mere mechanical exercise, and best performed where there is least application of mind. They ride always here; it is the reason they walk so badly, and their nether parts are so negligently costumed. If Virgil had been an Englishman, he would no doubt have made Juno ride the queen of heaven. The deficiency of trees and shrubs gives this field the air of a solitary heath; and in a hot sun, the pedestrian has need of encouragements to overcome it. At last we are in the delightful Kensington Gardens. At the farthest end is a palace, now occupied by the Duke of Sussex, and, in her widowhood, the Duchess of Kent. The genius of the place is the Princess Victoria. Close by is a village, and in the church are tombs of the Earls of Warwick, and in the cemetery, the grave of Mrs. Inchbald, the actress. Pratt, Earl of Camden, was born here, and Hunter the surgeon. The Park is rural and solemn; the circumference three miles. It has abundant shade from large interwoven trees, and a smooth and verdant lawn, with seats placed conveniently, and here and there little covered buildings, to give shelter from the storm or sun. The gardens are immediately around the palace, where the day is closed with agreeable concerts. I strolled long upon the silent gravel walks, philosophizing, then listening to the winds piping among the trees, and the familiar robin, now and then chirping its plaintive note; and there came by, on horse-back, a lady, of a sweet and nymphish modesty of face, whom presuming to be the princess, I stood off, cap in hand, by the way-side, making her such homage as the vapor to the sun.

As often as I am wearied of the world, which will be every fine afternoon, I will walk in this park, upon its sweet garniture of green; and sometimes of a morning to meet the early marigold that turns to the east, and smiles and dallies with the sun; or listen to the English lark that cheats you with his single throat to believe there are twenty birds quiring in the air. Here, to the west, is Holland House, remarkable as once the residence and property of Addison, and the birthplace of Fox, and now for the delightful attic dinners of my Lord

* See duel of Montgomery and Macnamara.

+ Incedo Regina.

Holland. Here Addison paced the long room with a window at each end,' and a bottle too, they say, at each window, to give vigor to his Spectatorial wisdom. Who smells the wine, in his charming Saturday homilies? With Dryden and the oblivious god he solaced here, of an evening, the contempt of his imperious countess. I will come hither, a stroller with a book,' in the Syrian heats,' and under thy protecting wings, Victoria, pour over its divine thoughts, in the spot in which they were conceived, and with leave, woo the harmony of thy sweet coverts through the loitering twilight.

Regent's Park had my next visit. For this I journeyed near an hour to the north-east, passing through a spot of execrable fame; where the wretch, his bones anatomized by kites and buzzards, was left a fleshless skeleton, to dangle to-and-fro in the night winds upon a gibbet Tyburn, now fallen into disrepute. None are hung now in London but the very rabble; and these in the prison yard of Newgate. This park covers five hundred acres, and is destined to be the queen of English gardens. It is of circular form, and has parterres of shrubbery, and varieties of trees, yet in their infancy. The gravel is smooth enough for prunellas not the case at St. James'; and some persons of honor have been seen walking here; which I give as a report, not vouching for its authenticity. They have contrived to give a not large lake, with trees on its banks, the appearance of a river, and a drive round for carriages, which seems a mile, is gently accomplished in a minute. This is one of Mr. Nash's happy accidents. The houses around are in the terrace style; that is, several united in blocks, in which mortar and brick affect the hues of marble and wrought stone, and stand up for the dignity of Ionic and Corinthian orders. The pediments are sculptured, and the balustrades and eaves surmounted by prim-looking allegories. In one of the pediments is a little coronation of Britannia by Fame; and among the other figures, (about twenty,) is a Freedom extending her favors to the Africans. On others they have served up a most delicious variety of goddesses, like a soupe à la julienne: Poetry and Plenty, Music and Chemistry, Medicine and Health.

The walks of this garden are sometimes in straight lines, and the trees, in spite of English gardening, are allowed to get into rows. It wants the furniture and social gayety of the Tuilleries; it wants the urns, the statuary, the orange trees, the ladies; one feels out of doors: finally, it wants the residence of the French capital to be one of the most brilliant gardens of Europe. Yet with its air of stillness and solitude, it is delightful. It is delightful to sit here so snugly under the shade of this almond tree, and look out upon the little groups of strolling visiters, and muse upon the immense world that lies immediately around. Kensington is three miles distant, and agreeable only to those who have equipages; or, like me, seven-mile boots: this has the extreme advantage of vicinity. I am lodged near, and can fly hither from the suffocated streets daily, which I do. I come on Sundays to pray heaven to vouchsafe to civilize the hearts of our city councils, and enable them to conceive such a necessary appendage to a city as the Tuilleries and Regent's Park; and if there is such a thing as a purgatory for Quakers, to heap a myriad or two of years upon the heads of those who deprived us and our posterity of this

enjoyment of the rich, this comfort and consolation of the poor. They had a continent before them, and could not spare for a city what any opulent individual here provides for the health and gratification of his private family!

To complete the subject, I should have added to this letter the Zoological Garden; but its museums, collections of natural history, delightful promenades, its large pieces of water and islands, inhabited by animals, distributed into paddocks, dens, and aviaries, according to their several natures and habits a garden in which all nature appeals to the heart of man for his love and admiration, requires more than an entire letter for itself.

TO THE 'SWEET SOUTH,' IN EARLY SPRING.

RUNNING THE GANTLET:

AN INCIDENT OF THE LAST PEACE WITH GREAT BRITAIN.

་

BY THE AUTHOR OF EASTERN LANDS, THE COBBLER of Bagdad,' etc.

A BRIGHT and beautiful Sunday morning dawned upon the town and harbor of Halifax. The waters were gently breaking upon the shores of George's Island, and both sides of the channel; a cooling breeze from the south-east was toying with the numberless streamers and flags that decorated the vessels of the port, and with the broad ensigns of Great Britain, that were spread abroad to catch its breath from the flag-staffs of Citadel Hill, George's Island, Point Sandwich and the Half-moon battery: the bending arch of heaven presented a clear field of deep azure, unbroken by the slightest cloud; the sun, just lifting itself from its ocean bed, was pouring a rich stream of dazzling light along the waters, causing them to sparkle brighter than crystals with the reflection of its long golden column; and gilding the spires and house-tops of the town, the vessels, and forts, and every thing it smiled upon, with glittering splendor. Every object that received again the light of day, seemed conscious that it was a time for rest and peace, so still and quiet, and in such happy keeping, was every thing around.

It was a May morning, in 1815. The war with the United States was over, peace having been proclaimed but a short time previous. Two nations had again met in amity, and exchanged once more the terms of courtesy and friendship; and the tie which war had so rudely severed, was once more united. Yet during the very darkest period of the war of 1812-15, when the most bitter feelings of deadly enmity were aroused on either side; when little was exchanged between the two nations, but terms of defiance, taunts, and reproaches; when they met not, save at the point of the bayonet, and before the cannon's mouth, where the crimson-dyed turf, and the slippery deck, too plainly told that these interviews were bloody; even then, the heart of an inveterate enemy was moved, and tears of sympathy were copiously shed, in mourning over the loss of one of the bravest heroes that ever contended for the glory and triumph of the star-spangled banner of our own dear country; the unfortunate but chivalric commander of the ill-fated Chesapeake - LAWRENCE. Yes, to the eternal honor of the British nation- particularly the naval officers and subjects then resident at Halifax - be it recorded, that they demeaned themselves as brave and generous enemies; and to the latest days of the Republic, that action will ever be remembered with the kindliest feelings of sincere gratitude.

It is well known that after the action between the Chesapeake and Shannon, in which Captain Lawrence was killed, and his vessel captured, the prize containing the prisoners were carried down to Halifax. As the Shannon, followed by the captured frigate, passed Sanbro' light, the telegraph at Point Sandwich, communicating with that upon Citadel Hill, announced to the inhabitants of Halifax, that a British frigate with a prize was coming up. The most unequivocal

tokens of joy were manifested; salutes were prepared to fire as soon as they should enter the channel; brush and wood were collected to make bonfires; flags and streamers rose at every eminence; the military bands on shore, together with those on board the men-of-war at anchor in the basin above, struck up God save the King,' and 'Rule Britannia;' and all along the shore, crowds upon crowds were collected, ready to receive them with huzzas and shouts of triumph. Suddenly, while they were yet gazing, the Shannon's ensign was lowered to half-mast, as was also that of the Chesapeake. Fear and consternation instantly usurped the place of joy and triumph. What had happened? None could answer. The telegraph demanded an explanation, and there was a dead stillness among that mighty multitude. So immoveably silent stood the crowd, that the breaking of the tiny waves, kissing the edge of the shore at their feet, was heard distinctly, as they eagerly watched a small ball of bunting rolling slowly up the mast of the frigate. For a moment, upon reaching its destination, it drooped against the mast; then, as a breath of air lifted it upon its wings, it spread out clear and free, and then it was whispered from one to another, with saddened feelings, that the commander of the Chesapeake had fallen in the conflict. Not a shout, not a single huzza, issued from one of that unnumbered crowd that had collected to rend the air with joyful acclamations. The name of Lawrence, associated with all that was brave and manly, was a familiar sound to their ears. They knew him through life as an unyielding and unsparing enemy; but his many virtues had won respect; but now that the touch of death had glazed those eyes, which had been wont to sparkle with enthusiasm, when the fight waxed hottest, and stolen from that arm the sinewy strength that had made the flashing cutlass' tell,' wherever it had struck, they wept for him as though their own navy had lost its brightest ornament.

Wrapped in the colors which in life he had bled to preserve unsullied, and in death had prayed that he might not be separated from, his remains were conveyed on shore, and buried with military and naval honors. The ensigns of the vessels in the harbor, and also those upon the forts and batteries on shore, were displayed at halfmast; minute-guns were fired; the corpse was borne to the grave by the oldest captains in the navy, then at Halifax ; and every demonstration of public sympathy was manifested for their brave but unfortunate enemy. But I am digressing.

An hour had hardly elapsed, since day-break, when a brig shot through the narrow channel that lies between Sanbro' light and that part of Point Sandwich on which stood the Half-moon Battery. Her helm was in the hands of her commander; by his side stood his mate, with a glass, minutely examining every object, as they came successively in sight. The sailors were dispersed about the yards and rigging, busily reducing sail, while a few were engaged at the bows in clearing the cable, and preparing to drop anchor. Impelled by the breeze which was then setting up the channel directly in her favor, and aided by the force of the current, the vessel rapidly passed the various forts and batteries along the shore, until nearly abreast of the southern extremity of George's Island, when the sails were all suddenly taken in, the anchor slipped, and she swung round with her