suffer, might so suffer for us, and be above us; and, what was wanting in our pity, we should supply with. love.

Luckily, we do not lose sight of Mrs. Inchbald on this road. If her public-house was not where we supposed it, her last lodging-houses were at Kensington; and her last home, on this side heaven. But we shall come there presently.

We have passed Knightsbridge, once a terrible lonely place, of cut-throat reputation; and the "Cannon Brewery" (which an accomplished Spanish acquaintance of ours, on his coming into England, noted in his pocket-book, as presenting a curious specimen of English parlance, supposing that the casting of cannon was called brewing them); and the barracks, where tall dragoons are seen discoursing with little women; and have come into Kensington Gore, with Hyde Park again.

Hyde Park is associated with the reviews and the duels of latter generations; Kensington Gardens, with their court beauties and Sunday visitors; and the palace and suburb, with the court itself, or some connection of royalty, and with court wits and others. Gray came here to try to get rid of his last sickness; and here Arbuthnot lodged at one time, and Swift.

We have been thinking of courts and gay gardens, and had forgotten the church and its graves; and a shadow suddenly falls upon us in approaching it, reminding us of a melancholy portion of one of the most painful parts of our life. But a small angel sits smiling at us through it, with eyes earnest beyond its

infancy; and we are rebuked by its better knowledge, and resume our patience, willingly admitting a new relief that has been lately afforded us by learning that Mrs. Inchbald lies in the same spot. It seems as if any kind of innocence both received and imparted a grace from its juxtaposition with such a woman. For her genius and fame are, of course, not what we are thinking of on the occasion: it is the fitness of the greater angel for sleeping by the side of the less. Mrs. Inchbald was very fond of Kensington. She resided there, or in the neighborhood, during the last ten or twelve years of her life: first at Turnham Green; then in St. George's Row (as above mentioned); then at No. 4, Earl's Place, opposite Holland House: then in Leonard's Place; then in Sloane Street (at No. 148); and, lastly, in Kensington House, a Catholic boardingestablishment, where she died. She was fond of Kensington for its healthiness, its retirement, its trees and prospects, its Catholic accommodations (for she was a liberal believer of that church); but not least, we suspect, for a reason which Mr. Boaden's interesting biography has not mentioned; namely, the interment, in Kensington churchyard, of the eminent physician, Dr. Warren, for whom, in her thirty-eighth year, and in the twelfth year of a widowhood graced by genius, beauty, and refusals of other marriages, she entertained a secret affection, so young and genuine, that she would walk up and down Sackville Street, where he lived, purely to get a glimpse of the light in his window. Her heart was so excellent, and accustomed to live on aspirations so noble, that we have not the least doubt this was one of her great ties to Kensington, and that

she looked forward with something of an angelical delight to the hour when she should repose in the earth near the friend whose abode she could not partake while living.

We beg the reader to pardon a digression longer than we shall usually indulge in, for the sake of the feelings of gratitude and admiration just re-excited in us by a perusal of the life of this extraordinary woman, the authoress of some of the most amusing comedy and pathetic narrative in the language; a reformer, abhorring violence; a candid confesser of her own faults, not in a pick-thank and deprecating style, but honest and heartfelt (for they hurt her craving for sympathy); an admirable kinswoman and friend nevertheless,

most admirable, as we have just seen; the creator of the characters of "Dorriforth" and "Miss Milman;" and the writer of a book (“Nature and Art") which a woman, worthy to have been her friend, put during his childhood into the hands of the writer of these pages; to the no small influence, he believes, of opinions which he afterwards aspired to advocate, however imperfectly he may have proved his right to do so.

Dr. Warren, a man as good as he was intelligent, is in the recollection of many. We have heard, from a lady who remembers him, that he was a very gentlemanly man, with all the wise suavity of the genuine physician, not of a healthy complexion, but with very fine eyes. And we learn from another, that his searching and refined look, his professional skill, his power to attach affection, and, alas! his delicacy of health, are hereditary in the name.

Truly, love keeps one a long while lingering at the door; and we shall never get on with our journey at this rate.

We must begin again next week, and move faster!

A JOURNEY BY COACH.

CONTINUED.

Holland House and its Memories. - Formal new Buildings in the Roads near London. - New Public-houses inferior to the Old ones. — Hammersmith and its Legend, &c. Turnham Green.

Passages from Gay and the "Mayor of Garrat." - Brentford. - Cavaliers and Puritans. - Sion House. Osterley Park.—A Halt at an Inn-door.

HE traveller, in passing Holland House, must try to get as long a glimpse of it as he can ; and if he has any fancy, and is a reader, the old house will glow to him like a painted window. Visions of wits and beauties will flash upon his eyes, from the times of Elizabeth and James the First down to this present November, 1835; with more, we trust, to come. Perhaps there has not been a set of men, eminent in their day, who, for the most part, have not visited at that house. It was built by the Cope Family in 1607; then possessed by the Earl of Holland, one of the favorites of Charles the First's wife, Henrietta Maria; then by the Commonwealth, whose general, Fairfax, made it his head-quarters on one occasion; then by the Holland Family again, through whom, by his marriage with the Countess of Warwick and Holland, it became the residence of Addison, who died there; then by a descendant of the family, who sold it to Henry Fox, afterwards Lord Holland; and it has since remained in the possession of his successors.