intersecting arches on these walls. When Milner says, "And, accordingly this style soon made its appearance in a regular shape," he does not mean the style of this church, but the one indicated by this effect; that is, the pointed style; for the general style of this church itself is Saxon, or rather that adoption of the Saxon by the Normans, into which they introduced their own varieties. It is a mixed or transition style, containing the rudiments of those future orders which gradually developed themselves into the simple pointed, or Early English, the Perpendicular and the Florid.

The great and predominant character of the style of this church, therefore, is the Saxon—the massy round pillars, round arches, with the billet and zig-zag mouldings, mixed with that variety of ornament which it seems capable of admitting without violation of its unity. Thus we have scarcely two pillars, two bases, two capitals, two corbels, or two arches alike. There is introduced that variety, of which nature exhibits the beauty, without any discordance, but, on the contrary, a heightened effect of pleasure. It is wonderful in what a perfect condition the noble old fabric is brought down to us, enabling us to see in the stern and plain character of this church the character of the age. Here, we have not those comparatively modern embellishments which we find in the choir and nave of the cathedral, but a sternness, a nakedness, and a solidity, more allied to the transepts of the Norman Walkelin. We see the naked rope depending from the belfry into the church below; beneath our feet are tiles, no doubt originally imitated from the

Roman ones, but bearing the figures of quaint lions and other animals, and sundry Saxon zig-zags and wavings, and on some the old English words, Have Mynde, or Remember! that is, most probably, the care of your own soul, or to pray for those of others.

Here we bid adieu to Winchester. Long as its historic ground and beautiful antiquities have been overlooked by the multitude, I imagine they will hereafter become much more known, and afford a great degree of pleasure to our countrymen. Steam, which is laying open the beauties and the historic treasures of the kingdom to its inhabitants, has taken its way through Winchester, and brought it within little more than two hours distance of the metropolis. What is more, it has laid it in the direct line of what will be one of the most attractive routes to our summer tourists-to Southampton, the Isle of Wight, and back to town by Portsmouth. Who, therefore, on this round of enjoyment, will not drop down at Winchester, where so much of high interest may be seen in a single day, or even in a few hours? As I sat on St. Giles's-hill, pondering on all the past history of the place, suddenly came the steam-engine with its train, fuming and flying through the quiet district. The effect was startling. The two extremes of English history were brought suddenly and unexpectedly together; and I could almost imagine the old Saxon kings,

upspringing from their sleep in the cathedral, to inquire what new and strange power had burst into their dreamy and so long undisturbed dominion. The restless spirit of the new has, indeed, broken in;-it cannot wake the dead, but it will bring to the living a better knowledge of the old!

It would be curious to bring into one view the visits to England of those foreigners who have exercised a signal influence on the destinies of their own nation, and thence on those of mankind in general, and to take a glance at their places of abode while here. It would be surprising how little in accordance would frequently be found to be their haunts and habits, with the character which they have left indelibly stamped on the annals of their time. The Emperor Charles V. fêteing and frolicking

with Henry VIII. at Whitehall, Hampton Court, Greenwich, or Winchester; Peter the Great of Russia, driving his sledge through the fine old holly hedges of John Evelyn's house at Woolwich, as his relaxation from the fatigues of ship-carpentering in the dock-yards, which he was there practically learning; Marat, the bloody Marat, the friend of the ferocious Robespierre, who fell by the hand of Charlotte Corday, teaching French at a dissenting academy at Warrington in Lancashire, intimate with all the Aikins and Barbaulds, and some of whose pupils are yet living, of the most opposite characters, both to their tutor and to another of his pupils, the famous fighting Fitzgerald of duelling notoriety. Louis Philippe pursuing the same humble vocation at Richmond; Dr. Franklin busy in London as a journeyman printer; La Mennais seeking employment in London, and refused as stupid looking; or Mina, or Miguel, the lions of London drawing-rooms, surprising all the young ladies with their meekness and gentleness, the more to surprise them afterwards with the news of their bloody deeds. Two of the most extraordinary men, however, of the last century who have made any considerable sojourn in this country, are Alfieri and Rousseau. They were both the apostles of change; the effect of whose writings have been, as in the case of Rousseau, too obvious to need comment, and which in neither case have yet ceased to operate. It may be said that the spirit of the dramas of Alfieri is, indeed, the spirit of modern Italy, and will, unless all ordinary prognostics fail, yet shew itself in events that will agitate all Europe. Like the volcanic fires of