he, therefore, wrote the great, little man a letter, excellent in point of composétion, on the subject, a sort of moral sermon, and recommending Mr. Kean to give up the lady in question, and to turn aside from his ERRORS. He received the letter in good part, and read it over two or three times, smilingly, said to Seymour, who was then with him on a visit, “This is well done, and kind of the old boy, there is something like real friendship about it, and I cannot quarrel with his intentions; but, I believe, it is generally understood that we are born in ERROR, live in ERROR, and, I am sadly afraid, there are too many of us who die in ERROR ! But no more of that-we have other fish to fry at present, and let us proceed with the business at issue.”

The following sort of remembranee, by way of EPITAPH, is inserted here, that the proprietor may insert it under the leaves of the Oak Tree, at Woodland Cottage, if he thinks proper :

IN ONE OF THE MOST SEQUESTERED,

YET TRULY DELIGHTFUL, ROMANTIC SPOTS IN THE

ISLE OF BUTE;

AND FAR REMOVED FROM THE BUSY HUM OF THE GREAT WORLD,
HERE LIES-(OR, MIGHT HAVE LAIN,)

EDMUND KEAN, ESQ.,

WHO DIED AT THE PREMATURE AGE OF FORTY-FIVE YEARS,

ON WEDNESDAY, MAY 16, 1833, AT

RICHMOND, IN SURRY.

NO WORDS CAN BE MORE APPLICABLE TO THE MEMORY OF THIS

MOST DISTINGUISHED

ACTOR ON THE ENGLISH STAGE, THAN THOSE FROM OUR IMMORTAL BARD !

WHOSE VERY SOUL HE SEEMED TO INHERIT BY CONCEPTION;

BUT WHOSE IDENTITY ОР CHARACTER AND ILLUSTRATIONS OF SHAKSPEARE,

RENDERED HIM UNEQUALLED, UNRIVALLED, and wITHOUT A COMPETITOR: THEREFORE, TAKE HIM FOR ALL IN ALL," WE SHALL NOT

LOOK UPON HIS LIKE AGAIN!

IT IS A TRUE RECORD OF THE MOVEMENTS OF THIS GREAT ACTOR IN HIS BUSY CAREER THROUGH SOCIETY: AND THOUGH WITH SINCERE REGRET FORM MANY ERRORS, WE ARE LED TO

EXCLAIM

ALAS POOR HUMAN NATURE !

YET, NEVERTHELESS,

HE WAS A MAN FOR A' AND A' THAT!

CHAPTER XVI.`

;

The PILGRIMS anxious to visit the SOURCE of the THAMES one of the most important features in their Pilgrimage: also to follow the STREAM to the finish of it. The NORE -explanation and authorities upon the subject. A trip to Gloucestershire; friendly reception at Fox-hunter's Hall. SIR HENRY TALLY-HO, Bart., a choice spirit, one of the Olden Times: TURF, FLOURISH, and SPRIGHTLY, quite at home ;

A southerly wind, and a cloudy sky,
Proclaims a hunting morning:
Before the sun peeps we'll briskly fly,'
Sleep and a downy bed scorning.
Away, my boys, to horse away,

The chase admits of no delay,
Now on horseback we've got-

MAKEMONEY, in a new character, a

second JOHNNY

GILPIN, who went faster and further than he intended(but a miss is as good as a mile,)—and, the Old Citizen, none the worse for his unexpected gallop! Outline of an Oxford Scholar. Unlooked for incidents. The old Citizen sporting a toe. Sketch of an accomplished thief, &c.

"WE ought to see the Source of the THAMES, or else our Pilgrimage will not be complete," said Makemoney," the trip, both by land and water, will afford us great variety of scenes; and I am quite sure that distance is of no consequence to my brother Pilgrims, so that the trip is attended with pleasure and profit."

"Distance, my dear friend," replied Turf, "is quite out of consideration with me at any time; and if Jerusalem, or Jericho, were named, I should not demur! So let us be off!"

"Nor I," said Flourish, "under a good leader, I would march to the end of the world; and never acknowledge that I felt tired. But surely Gloucestershire cannot be termed a great distance from the Metropolis?"

"A fig for distance," said Sprightly, "either rowing, sailing, turf, or turnpike, I am ready, only mention the place, my dear uncle, and you will find us jolly Pilgrims on the alert."

"Gloucestershire, I think, is the spot," said Makemoney,

"but I know that Wiltshire claimes the honour of it also. However, I am not historian enough, or scholar, to decide the question; but I have read, that from an infant spring, near Cricklade, not far from Malmesbury, denominated THAMES HEAD! is the source from whence the mighty river springs :

First the fam'd authors of his ancient name,
The winding Isis, and the fruitful THAME;
The Kennet swift, for silver eels renown'd,
The Loddon slow, with verdant alders crown'd;
Cole, whose dark streams his flow'ry island lave,
And chalky Wey, that rolls a milky wave;
The blue, transparent Vandalis appears,
The gulphy Lee, his sedgy tresses rears;
And sullen Mole, that hides his diving flood,

And silent Darent, stained with Danish blood!

"I understand," replied Turf, "in a place called Trewsbury Meadow, in the confines of Gloucestershire, called THAMES, or Isis Head, the spring tumbles forth in a confined vale, from a layer of loose, or flat stones, through Oxford, Henley, Maidenhead, Windsor, Eton, Richmond, down to the Nore. The definition of the word Thames is not necessary for us Pilgrims to enquire into ?"

"Not at all," answered Flourish, "it has occupied the time and pens of some of our greatest writers, both in ancient and modern times. Holinshed, Stowe, Speed, Pope, &c. It is quite sufficient to our purpose to understand that however Gloucester may claim the honour of the SOURCE of the Thames, it first becomes navigable in Wiltshire. It is, I am told, 240 miles in length; 188 of which are navigable, when it joins the Medway. The latter river, it is said, embraces the sea. Therefore, I think, let us begin at the Source, and follow it until we come to the NORE. Let us finish all well!"

66

Nothing could be more apropos," replied Turf, "I have a worthy friend of mine in Gloucestershire, not far from the spot, Sir Henry Tally-ho, Bart., who will not only receive us with all the warmth of a brother, but he will tell us all about the matter, and furnish us with some fine cattle to visit the SOURCE of the Thames. He is one of the old school, an accomplished sportsman, of ancient pedigree and good, but a gentleman in every point of view. He is a high-spirited fellow, and I know we shall all be at home to a peg. His mansion is the seat of hospitality; and my brother Pilgrims will experience, at Foxhunter's Hall, all that they can wish for, where they will be surrounded with pleasure; comfort, at their elbows; and happiness wait upon their nightcap,"

"That's your sort," said Sprightly, "the character you have given of this fine old fox hunter, is inviting in the extreme: but, my friend, Turf, is at home every where. In fact, he is a sort of polar star to us wandering Pilgrims!"

"True, my nephew," echoed Makemoney, "Turf, is not only one of the most accommodating fellows that I ever met with in the course of my life, but the readiest man to point out the most agreeable, method of spending our time either by land or water. Let us make the best of our way to Gloucestershire, and on our return to London, afterwards, not a spot, or a creek, connected with the source of the Thames, to the finish of it, at the Nore, shall escape our notice."

No time was lost, the quickest conveyance was adopted, and in a short time, the Pilgrims found themselves comfortably seated at Foxhunter's Hall. It was the true scene of hospitality altogether, and so much sport and diversion were afforded to them, that the days and nights positively flew away.

But Makemoney, Sprightly, and Flourish, were rather out of their element respecting the conversation which took place between Turf and the baronet. Sir Henry Tally-ho, was a thoroughbred sportsman, and he took delight in scarcely any other subject. The pedigree, blood, and bone belonging to the crack horses, the winners of the St. Leger, the Derby, and the Oaks, he had at his fingers ends, without consulting any book of reference. The qualities of the jockies were also strongly impressed upon his memory, and there were few, if any race course in the kingdom, that he had not shown himself at one period or another, during his life.

At his own table, he was a choice spirit of the highest quality, and over his glass a most entertaining companion, in his peculiar way; he was fond of a song, cheerful upon all occasions to the echo, and his greatest delight appeared to be-to see and make every body happy around him.

The library, left to him by his predecessor, was seldom disturbed, and the works in it, he jocularly used to call"Horses of another colour, and did not belong to his book." Yet, every thing new, respecting the field, he purchased with avidity, for his perusal when laid up with the gout, or compelled to remain within doors. The Racing Calender, he pointed out to his friends with delight: the Stud Book, was also a treat to him, the Sporting Magazine, from its commencement, was his 'History of England,' as he termed it; and Boxiana, reminded him of 'divers blows in sundry places! All the above books he had read so often, that he used to boast, he was as perfect about sporting events, as a clergyman, belonging to a cathedral, with his bible.

Sir Henry Tally-ho, had no ambition to become an M. P., nay, he had refused that honour several times, observing, with a smile, that he would be distanced, double-distanced, amongst the Great Creatures' in the nation, and the House that claimed his attention, when in London, was the Red house, and also the most attractive room, was the subscription parlour at Tattersalls.

6

The baronet likewise, at one period of his career, was a great patron of the art of self-defence: he was fond of a cudgellingmatch, and could play a good bout at single-stick himself. The prize-ring in its zenith, had not a greater supporter, and the different styles and manners of the various boxers, he would often descant upon rather eloquently. He used to call himself an Englishman to the back-bone, and only exulted over Molineaux, the man of colour, when he was defeated by the champion, Tom Cribb, but apologized for this partiality, by observing, the national honour was at stake in the contest.

Sir Henry Tally-ho was a first-rate shot, and he could bring down his bird with the best marksman in Gloucestershire; but out of the sporting world he pronounced himself little more than a dummy, and had sense enough to keep his tongue within his teeth,' when subjects were broached that he was ignorant of, or could not comprehend. Such was the hero of Foxhunter' sHall. Upon Make money's stating to the baronet that the principle object of their journey was to view the SOURCE OF THAMES.

THE

"It is only a few miles from the hall," replied Tally-ho, "and a very pleasant ride through a delightful country. I have plenty of horses, gentlemen, at your service, therefore, I beg you will not stand upon any ceremony."

"We shall avail ourselves of your kind offer," answered Turf, "but to praise the cattle of Sir Henry Tally-ho, would be quite out of place."

"Stop a bit! stop a bit! said the old Citizen, "you forget that I am no horseman, Mr. Turf, therefore, I must go to see the source in a carriage of some description; I shall then run no risque of being thrown off my guard."

"My friend," replied the baronet, "you need not be under any alarm as to being thrown, I have an old hunter, who has seen the best of his days, and a baby might ride on him: besides, he is as quiet as a lamb. Old Spankaway was once a tiptop creature at a hunt, I admit, but his day has gone by, and, like the old ones in general, both men and horses, his speed has left him; therefore, sir, I recommend the animal to your notice. Any thing like danger, is not to be apprehended; but if you doubt my opinion of old Spankaway, my grooms will satisfy you in every respect!"

"I do not doubt your word, sir," answered Makemoney, "but I repeat I am no horseman, and I may say, that almost since I was a boy, I have not been across a horse; and I am afraid I might be rather timid."

"Never fear," said Turf, "we shall be all together and travel at a moderate pace; so that you may make up your mind no harm will come of it. The road is a quiet one, and not like the dangers to be apprehended on a race course."