side, being the low portrait gallery, we have recently passed through, is part of the original palace, and its front alone is the work of Wren. The dimensions of this court are 110 feet by 117 feet. A small fountain still plays in it, and the pedestals, which supported statues, by Fanelli, but now stripped of them, remain in their nakedness. The bad taste of some one of our recent kings tore them from their original situations, both here and in the gardens, to place them at Windsor, and the real artistic feeling which our present sovereign possesses in a high degree, will, no doubt, cause them to be restored to the places for which they were originally designed. The south side, above the tall windows, is decorated with paintings representing the labours of Hercules, by Laguerre, which have been recently renewed. These cloisters afford a welcome retreat, cool and refreshing when the sun shines hot and scorching. Through them we pass to the eastern, or principal front, of the modern building. Under the gloom of the colonnade, the first view of the gardens, flowers, and fountains, and distant avenue of trees, through the graceful gates, bursts out very bright and sparkling. A chief beauty to us, in these gardens, is their appearance of illimitable spaciousness, to be attributed, we think, to a feature little beautiful under most circumstances, but here essentially so their flatness. They are the very opposite in this respect to the diversified gardens of Fountain's Abbey, perhaps the most remarkable gardens in this country, laid out after the manner of the ancients. The style of cultivation and ornament here is the same throughout, and though all views possess nearly the same characteristics in common, yet each one has that air of voluptuous display, which, though you may call it monotonous, is never tiresome, but is always exhilarating. It is a perfect treat of its kind, to throw yourself down on the green velvet carpet, under the deep shadows of the rich tinted yews: the eye wanders delightedly from one flower-bed to another, each rivalling the other with the brightest of colours; the fragrance of the verbena, and rose, and musk plant, perfume the air, and stillness is only broken by the hum of an errant bee, the note of a skylark, and music dashing unceasing from the fountain. It is a sort of Arabian enchantment to one released from the whir and suffocation of London. Go there with your wife, the next best companion to a sweetheart, on a cloudless Sunday, when, besides all recited before, you may chance to hear the trumpets and clarions

F

of a military band pealing down the aisles of lime-trees, and if your heart is not grateful to God for the wonderful union of glories here, you may make up your mind that you are a miserable, irreligious wretch, blind, deaf, and soulless.

Do not neglect to look at the chubby gold and silver fish in the basin where the fountain is playing. They are marvellously fat, and you will enjoy the fun of their greedy and cunning contentions for a few crumbs, if you are able to supply them; they swim for their fee the instant any stranger approaches.

THE GARDENS,

we are inclined to think, have remained essentially the same since the time of Charles II. Their great ornament, perpetual all the year round, is the yew and laurel trees, which we think must be the "famous dwarfs," planted in the reign of Charles II. If such be the case, the position of these trees would show that the original palace did not extend further eastward than it does at present. An old print of the time of Queen Anne, exhibits upwards of twelve fountains playing before the eastern front; and as it is known that Charles II., who sought to obtain the assistance of Le Notre and Perault, the most celebrated gardeners at Versailles, (which abounds in fountains,) for Hampton Court, and failing to get it, appointed one Mr. Rose as his garden decorator, who had also studied at Versailles, we are fully entitled to conclude, in the absence of better evidence, that these fountains were

placed there by Charles II. There can be no doubt, from Evelyn's account of the gardens, in 1662, that the style of decoration, which in its main features still exists, was essentially based, not, as we have been told in several places, upon Dutch notions, but upon the taste of Louis Quatorze at Versailles. To "Loudon" (some write "London") and Wise, gardeners to William and Mary, the present distribution of the gardens is attributed in all but the monstrosities of form into which the unhappy yews and olives were clipped by them, but which are now left free, to take their own peculiar, solemn, and mystic shapes, which Nature designed. One Pluckenet, gardener to Queen Mary, received a salary as high as 2007. a-year, so that the duties were considered important. Some early history of these gardens, as far as it is ascertained, is given among the historical notes, (Historical Notes D.)

Let us stroll down the cool and scented grove of lime trees towards the river, and pursue our path for half a mile along

with the Thames on our right, clear, silvery, shining-a very contrast to the same river at Fleet Ditch, polluted with the vomit from gas-houses, dye-houses, sewers, and all hideous abominations-mixed, nevertheless, in such wonderful chemical combination, that it is the only water fit to brew true porter with. This terrace extends nearly as far as the chief fishing station at Thames Ditton-a rare place, we are assured, for catching barbel; bony monsters, not worth eating, but prized in the catching, for the electric shocks of their struggles when hooked. Here, perhaps, Henry himself angled, for we find in his Privy Purse Expenses-"Angelyng rodds brought

to the King at Hampton Court, and two shillings paide to two men that holpe to fish." Having watched the river, and the old picturesque tow-barges and teams in our way down, in our return we may walk by the sides of the yews, and the beautiful gates which are parallel to the Thames. The whole railing is six hundred yards in length, and was erected by William III. he may have planted these yews likewise. The gates are placed at intervals of fifty yards, and are seven feet high; scarcely any two are alike. The initials of William and Mary, intertwined, form the chief ornament of some; the Rose, Thistle, and Harp, respectively, of others. Their workmanship, doubtless of the hand, is extremely graceful, flowing, and artistic, so unlike the Brummagem mechanical casting now-a-days. The railings, intermediate between the gates, are evidently some shabby modern substitutions. Beyond them is the Home Park.

The frequent notices of the care taken of the pheasants and of the cony burrows, show the interest Henry took in the game in the parks here. He seems to have been partial to shooting.

"Payd to Henry Blankston, of London, for paynting of a but in the great orchard, for the Kyng to shote pelletts at, 19d.

Eight shillings [were] paid for shoting money with the King's grace at Hampton Court.

"Fifty-eight pounds paid to my lord of Rochford, for shoting with the King's grace at Hampton Court."

When Cavendish brought the news of Wolsey's death, he found the King shooting "at the rounds in the Park, on the backside of the garden."

At the end of the Terrace, take a view of the whole length of the gravel walk: one of such handsome breadth and length is not often seen; always so dry, that a lady's slipper would not be wetted through after a shower, and that is saying much, seeing how unmercifully thin they are for delicate lungs. The views, hereabouts, over the private gardens, over the river, both upwards and downwards, and along the extent of the grounds, provide ample subjects for the sketcher's pencil. Just before reaching the front of the palace, you will see a gate, which is the entrance to the

PRIVATE GARDEN, AND ITS CURIOSITIES.

You summon the gardener by ringing the bell. This garden faces the Thames southward, and its terraces abound