ing a shady path, I emerged on the terraced rock of Wynd-cliff, and looked far and wide over a magnificent prospect-the woody precipice at my feet, the tortuous river and its hills, with the map-like landscape beyond; and then, over the treetops and the rivercliffs on the right, found with surprise another picture hanging as it were in the sky, a wider water (the Severn), its ships, and its faint coast beyond, with distant town and tower.

Down I went by steep zig-zags among the trees and underwood, and thought myself about to step out on the high road at foot, when I suddenly found myself in a kind of little tea-garden with a cottage at the end; then I recollected that the downward paths were here and there obstructed with brushwood or stakes, with the object, as was now apparent, of driving you inevitably into this net. The old woman, sitting within like the spider, soon came to her door. Did I wish for tea, or gingerbeer, or lemonade? Nothing, thank you, but to get to the road.' 'The only way is through the cottage.' 'Am I to pay?' 'Well, it was always expected.' 'It is the Duke of Beaufort's, I suppose ?' 'Yes.' So I gave his Grace a few pence again, got out on the road, and went on my way back to Chepstow.

Everywhere orchards loaded with apples, and often a great red and yellow heap of fruit on the grass by a cottage, exhaling warm fragrance; but I did not succeed in seeing a cyder-mill at work. For small quantities a hand-mill, worked by two men, is used; then there is the horse-mill, hired out to various farmhouses in succession, here today, there to-morrow. This was the usual plan until our own time, and is still employed, but the steammachine is superseding it. An old man along the road to-day tells me the cyder from the steam-engine's

apples is not so good as that made in the old way; and this laudator temporis acti has a reason to give"The steam-machine don't crush the pips, you see;' and he is very likely right. Quantity, not quality, is the aim in every department of modern productiveness. The cheap cyder is made of windfalls, and is poor indeed. If I were a rich man in this apple region I would, on the other hand, exhibit the culmination of cyder-making from picked and precious fruit, and regale my friends therewith. I would also send an anonymous dozen now and again to some poet or artist whom I felt grateful to, whose work was as pure and priceless as my apple-nectar. Also would I make that old drink, metheglin-honey-wine, and, for the level of ordinary days, pure homebrewed beer; bidding all sophisticate concoctions avaunt.

to

From Chepstow by rail to Gloucester,-British, Roman, Saxon: Caer Gloew' (which seems mean Bright Castle), Colonia Glevum,' 'Gleau-ceaster.' The old city

where the Kings of England often held their court, and started thence to invade Wales, and received there the temporary submission of Welsh princes-stands in a plain; rich wooded hills on the south at two miles' distance, on the north some three miles or four. Two long old streets cross each other at the market-place. By the river, which winds in rather dull fashion through the plain, are wharves, warehouses, and masts. A swarm of mean modern streets keeps the country at arm's length. There seemed to be a good many Irish among the Saturday-night marketers and strollers, and I noticed the treasonable Dublin newspapers of the week in a stationer's window. These are found wherever there is an Irish colony, and I suspect have a larger circulation out of Ireland than in it. The position of the cathedral is not remarkable, and even its great

richly-carved and pinnacled tower is not seen from many points of the Gloucester streets. The close is trimly green and garden-like, but wants the venerable tranquillity of some. Scaffolding was up on the south porch, with workmen busily scraping and chipping. I care not to recall the name of the distinguished architect who has been charged with the restauration here, a name which in itself of course guarantees' everything that the subscribers could desire. Close to the cathedral, in a small churchyard, stands a modern Gothic monument to John Hooper, Bishop of this see, burned alive on this spot on February 9, 1555, at the age of sixty. He was brought down from London on horseback, reaching Gloucester on the fourth day at five o'clock in the evening (Thursday, February 7), and lodged at one Ingram's house, near the Cathedral. A cobbler at work in his shop, nearly opposite, pointed out to me the old house, and the window of the Bishop's room top. On the 9th, at nine in the morning, the weather cold, lowering, and windy, he was led forth between two sheriffs, leaning on a staff, for he had taken a sciatica in prison, but bearing a cheerful and ruddy countenance. It was market day, and some thousands of people were assembled. Having once more refused the Queen's pardon, on condition of accepting the Catholic religion, he was stript to his shirt, and bound by an iron hoop to the stake, where he prayed aloud. Being tall, and also standing on a high stool, he was well seen by the people, who were sorrowful and weeping, but afraid to speak. A pound of gunpowder in a bladder

was placed between his legs, and he held the same quantity under each armpit. Then the faggots and reeds were piled round him, and the fire put to them. But the faggots being green and the day windy, he for a long time was but scorched, and called aloud, 'For God's love, good people, let me have more fire!' The powder exploded, but did him little good' (says Foxe). He raised his arms in attitude of prayer, till they dropt off.' After three-quarters of an hour his tortures came to an end.

What a scene! What a thing to meditate upon-the mental attitude of the condemnators, the condemned, the people who looked on

the subjection, the cruelty, the faith. But the chief person in the tragedy, among all his thoughts, could have found nothing strange in being burnt alive for an opinion.

The gray west front of the deposed Bishop's Own Cathedral looked down on his agony, as it now looks down (300 years older) on his monument. But the churchwardens have it in hand.

Next morning I walked out through mean brick suburbs, and then in the sun and shadows of rural lanes and footpaths, to Robin's Wood Hill, and saw northward the plain, the city with its noble tower, and the hills beyond; westward the broad Severn in a haze of light; eastward, at the foot of another rich hill, continuing the range I stood upon, the white villas of Cheltenham.

Brunel's masterpiece is the Great Western Railway-to do it justice, the most slovenly as to its stations, carriages, and servants, that I have ever travelled on. But it carried us safely up to Paddington.

VOL. IV.NO. XX. NEW SERIES.

Q

am highly pleased with Duff, for, as far as I can see, he seems determined to get everything possible out of, and everything possible (of my own making) into my Indian estates. So how, after all this, you have the face to tell me that my Indian affairs are not going on all right I can't conceive! Why, I've lent my Indian agents more than one hundred and eighty millions on the security of the concern (which you know I keep financially separate from my home property), and I mean to lend them another hundred millions to get on with the railways. Where should we have been in this country without railways?' Here, my dear John, you took breath and wiped your forehead, and I dare say you will recollect how attentively and respectfully I listened to all this without saying one word. But sooner or later I know that the pause must come, and that the world is his who has patience. Reflecting on all this, I bided my time, and, when you had quite done, proceeded to instil into your mind a few facts and arguments regarding your Indian affairs -arguments, my dear John, you are sure to perceive the force of when you peruse them at your leisure, and far away from the regions of personal dispute.

How you fretted and fumed, my dear John! But, as facts and figures were duly marshalled before you, and you began to be nervous, or at least doubtful, as to the safety of your Indian estates, you again took refuge in anger, and wanted to know what on earth I had to do with your Indian interests. This, you know, John, was not very logical; but the turn was a fortunate one for me, for it gave me an opportunity of observing that, on the faith of the estate being in good order, I had not only invested my own money on it, but, as a trustee for others, had recommended that money should be lent on the security of the concern; and

besides all that, I pointed out that many others, relying implicitly on the statements set forward by your agents as to the soundness of the property, had invested thereon funds provided for widows and orphans, for the halt, the lame, and the blind; and that both for myself and for my countrymen I had a perfect right to be listened to. Here, my dear John, I felt that I had immediately gained ground, for when you thought of the widow and the orphan, and the poor in general, your kindly heart beat fast, and you turned upon me that benignant eye for which you are so well and widely known. Your eye, too, looked troubled; and withal some honest indignation rose in your bosom, which showed me that if your Indian agents had been at all near, they might have felt your wrath; but the feeling which rose above all (for with all your looking out for the main chance, there's a great deal of good about you, John) was the feeling that, in consequence of your having been deceived as to the value of your Indian property, you had perhaps been the means of taking people in and getting them to advance money on false pretences. But you wisely repressed your feelings for the present, and inwardly resolved to make a searching enquiry into the real position and prospects of your Indian estates; and with this view you told me that you were going to get together a number of the managers of your English property and form them into a regular committee of enquiry on Indian finance, in order that things might be reinstated on a firm and intelligible basis. This resolution I, of course, applauded loudly, and for it I expressed my grateful thanks; but, at the same time, I asked leave just to talk a little on the state of things as at present existing, and especially with reference to the causes of their having been got into such a mess. What I had previously said about the orphans and widows had

evidently thrown you into a softened and seriously amiable mood, and you were kind enough to say that you had been rather hasty with me at first; but that as you now had halfan-hour to spare, you would be glad to hear what I had to say on the subject. This was just what I wanted; so, drawing a long and circumspect breath, I commenced the following representation of Indian affairs:

Just as I was going to commence my statement, I may remind you that, with some apology, you begged to interrupt me for one moment merely to point out that you hated figures. Here, my dear John, I was delighted to find that nothing bored you so much, as all my life long figures had been my especial stumbling-block; and, indeed, at the very sight of them I have often been seized with sudden illness. I accordingly assured you that you need not be at all afraid, and that I should be able to show you how matters stood by a series of general statements, involving only a few figures here and there, which you could easily get one of your numerous agents to verify or contradict, as the case might be. Here, if I recollect right, you muttered that you had once or twice tried to make out your Indian accounts, but never could succeed, as the blockheads were sometimes a million or two out, and were constantly getting into some prodigious bungle.

Taking a long breath, I then, my dear John, started fairly on my way to give you an account of your Indian affairs, while you settled yourself into an attitude which I looked upon with some uneasiness, as it is one so commonly assumed by some of home agents when the term Indian finance is uttered at all near them. However, I made a determined start, and you gave a very incredulous shrug when I commenced by telling you that you were practically carrying over the

your

soil of your Indian estates and using it as a sort of top dressing for your home fields; and that, though your home fields were being much enriched by this process, your Indian property, instead of getting richer, was, comparatively speaking, standing still, while you yourself required larger profits from it every day in order to make it pay its way without borrowing more money. Here you cut me short, and said that the idea was all stuff. "Why, my good man,' you continued, I once had the same idea myself, and it certainly gave me a good deal of uneasiness, as I always had a notion that these outlying estates, being steadily drained by absenteeism, must go down in the long run. But I found the thing all nonsense after all, and my home agents, whom I told to enquire into the matter, soon sent me a beautiful paper made out by my Indian agents at Westminster, and which showed me how extremely prosperous things really were. This paper was signed by a man called Melvil, and you can see for yourself that things are all right. They looked bad at first because the soil was really carried off in produce of one sort and another, and the people seemed to be taking or getting nothing in return; but you see that Melvil says it's all right, and that "the great excess of exports over imports is regularly liquidated in silver." Melvil told me this about thirteen years ago. and it seemed so plain that the estate must be thriving in consequence of its getting an equivalent for the soil it had parted with, that I at once wrote out to my Indian agents to go ahead and lay out as much money as they liked, as you know that when wealth accumulates in a country you can always afford to do things in a really handsome style. My agents were greatly pleased at this order, and set to work with much zeal, and you can see by the accounts they have sent me that many