the rector of a neighboring parish, Mr. Stanhope, a delightful companion, and a lord—nothing is complete without one of the conservative race—and one of the great lords, too-the venerable and distinguished Earl of Ellenborough. Though it has been

said of this eminent man that he was more eloquent than wise, we found him such good and, indeed, improving company that we. are inclined to think that if all lords were of his type, we should soon learn to love them as much as the average Briton. The company assimilated well and the time could not have passed more pleasantly-good breeding and general elegance of manners prevailing with all. A friend informed us that our venerable host took pains in the selection of his company, and never allowed the quiet of his country home to be disturbed by those so well known as "trashy London dashers." He generally had in his company a few officers and their wives, but not those who recalled too forcibly in their conversation barrack life; a traveler, if such could be found, unlike the stock tourist who travels far and sees nothing; a few writers or literary men to make a charming spice for all, but like all spices, he would not allow too much of them. These "literary fellows" want keeping down said he; otherwise they would turn his house into an Athenæum club. In their society, too, he said, you feel, if you venture to talk yourself, you should contribute something substantial to the "feast of reason" -a thing many find it, continued Mr. B., easier to speak of than do.

Before leaving this hospitable abode and the subject, it may be permitted us to interpolate something as to that remarkable man whom Guizot pronounced the most brilliant orator_in_the_Tory ranks, Lord Ellenborough. Guizot, who was long French Envoy to England and no mean authority, expressed this opinion, and he was in the habit of hearing Lord Derby, Lansdown, Sir Robert Peel, Mr. Gladstone, Disraeli, and other British orators. Hon. Edward Law, afterwards Earl of Ellenborough, entered public life in 1828-9, under the Duke of Wellington, and by the Cabinet of Sir Robert Peel was made Governor-General of India, where he was guilty of vagaries which filled the Directors of the Company with the utmost alarm. Although a civilian, he inflicted intolerable slights upon the civil servants of the company. He reserved his favor and confidence for the military, yet endangered the discipline of the very army which he had endeavored to conciliate by imprudent and unjustifiable means. He made showy progresses, which brought ridicule upon the British name. He addressed proclamations to the rulers and nations of India, which appeared to sanction idolatry, and finally, in the bombastic and inflated language of his proclamation concerning the gates of Juggernaut, when brought back from Ghuznee, he reached a climax of absurd

ity which no Viceroy had ever attained, yet the British government stood by him. Not so the Directory-the Directory, composed of business men. They recalled the eccentric GovernorGeneral. As soon as he reached England he was promoted to an Earldom, and in 1858 was again Minister for India, and soon became involved in a quarrel with Lord Canning, the then GovernorGeneral, the result of which was that he resigned his position in the cabinet of Lord Derby-not, however in the usual way. Instead of handing his resignation to the Prime Minister, as if he had no superior in the cabinet, he laid it before the Queen.

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In 1855, Lord Ellenborough addressed the House of Lords in a speech in opposition to the Government's Russian policy, to which the "Times" thus referred next day: "The most briliant audience in Britain was kept for above an hour suspended between platitudes which no one contest, and the paradoxes which no could believe. Most of those present retired with the melancholy conviction that, although the country may be sorely in want of a powerful war minister, that heaven born statesman had not been found in the accomplished orator who had commenced the discus sion." During the Indian mutiny, Lord Ellenborough criticised the Government policy and the conduct of affairs until it led to a breach between Lord Granville and himself. He continued his course of opposition to the Liberals until he was denounced by that party as the greatest imposter among living statesmen--the greatest charlatan among living politicians. Yet he was considered, by many, as the best debater in either house of Parliament. We can scarcely render adequate justice to the charm and impressiveness of his manner even in private-the reader can form an idea of what it was in public. His voice is sonorous, full, clear and penetrating. The figure manly, the features handsome, the hair grey, with the snows of seventy winters, yet abundant. His gesture is easy yet dignified, his emphasis not too frequent, but decisive. His eloquence is perfection, and we could not but think that if he showed to such advantage in the private circle, the admiration of Guizot, as embodied in his fine phraseology was not unduly excited by his displays in the House of Peers. In his Toryism he out Heroded Herod, and was almost ferocious in his opposition to reformers and any change in the British Constitution tending towards Liberalism.

Our visit to this country seat suggests a few remarks on visits to country houses before we quit the subject. Since an Englishman's house is his castle, no one, not even a near relation, has a right to invite himself to stay in it. It is not only taking a liberty to do so, but may prove to be very inconvenient. A general invitation, too, should never be acted on. It is often given

without any intention of following it up. An invitation specifies the persons whom it includes, and the person invited can never presume to take with him any one not specified. If a gentleman cannot dispense with his valet, or a lady with her maid, they should write to ask leave to bring a servant. Children or horses cannot

be taken without special mention is made of them, nor is it good taste to take too much luggage. The length of the visit is always specified in the invitation. This saves a deal of trouble. While on a visit you should make it a point to give as little trouble as possible, to conform to the habits of your entertainers and never be in the way. On this principle you will retire to your own occupations soon after breakfast, unless some arrangement has been made for passing the morning otherwise. If you have nothing to do you may be sure that your host has. Another point of good breeding is to be punctual at meals. A host always provides amusement for his guests-in fact the rule on which he acts is to make his visitors as much at home as possible; that on which the visitor should act, is to interfere as little as possible with the domestic routine of the house.

But we are again in Folkestone and must give the reader some respite by bringing this chapter to a speedy close.

During our many visits to the historical spots and other interesting localities and objects in this part of England, we were usually accompanied by our friend Osmond Priaulx, of London, a man of talent and learning. Mr. Priaulx dropped us a note when he heard we were in Folkestone and intended to remain there a month, to say that he would come down by the next train and spend the same time by the sea. Delighted at this intelligence, we immedi ately engaged him apartments near our own in Cheriton Road.— His active mind, which showed itself in a spirit of prying obser vation and incessant curiosity, his large stores of knowledge and his intimate acquaintance with this part of the world and many of the country people, made him not only a charming, but the most useful of companions. A man not only of talent but of genius, he was entirely unlike some with whom we have journied. We refer to those self satisfied, half witted fellows, who, because they have gone over certain ground and seen nothing, return as ignorant, confused and vapid as they started out on their travels, fancy that all that which a man of talent sees and describes has no existence out of his imagination. These snappy snobs who have now and again floated down the current with us, and who are destitute of observation and discrimination, incapable of deriving any benefit from travel, make themselves objects of ridicule by perpetrating comments upon the accounts of the more gifted class of tourists. Such fatuous individuals grope through the world in a kind of

twilight, bewildered by the obscurity of their incapacity to see objects in their true colors and dimensions, and bring strongly to memory the significant words of a clever writer, that the chief point of difference between a man of talent and the man without, consists of the different ways in which their minds are employed during the same interval. They are obliged, let us suppose, to walk from Temple Bar to Hyde Park corner. The dull man goes straight forward; he has so many furlongs to traverse. He observes if he meets any of his acquaintances; he enquires respecting their health and their family. He glances perhaps at the shops as he passes; he admires the fashion of a buckle, and the metal of a tea urn. If he experiences any flights of fancy, they are of a short extent of the same nature as the flight of a forest bird clipped of his wings and condemned to hop the rest of his life in a barnyard. On the other hand, the man of talent gives full scope to his imagination. He laughs and cries. Unindebted to the suggestions of the surrounding objects, his whole soul is employed. He enters into nice calculations, he digests sagacious reasonings. In imagination he declaims or describes, impressed with the deepest sympathy, or elevated to the loftiest rapture. He makes a thousand new and admirable combinations. He passes through a thousand imaginary scenes, tries his courage, tasks his ingenuity and thus becomes gradually prepared to meet almost any of the many colored events of human life. He consults by the aid of memory the books he has read, and projects others for the future instruction and delight of mankind. If he observes the passengers, he reads their countenances, conjectures their past history, and forms a superficial notion of their wisdom or folly, their virtue or vice, their satisfaction or misery. If he observes the scenes that occur, it is with the eye of a connoisseur or an artist. Every object is capable of suggesting to him a volume of reflections.The time of these two persons in one respect resembles : it has brought them both to Hyde Park corner. In almost every other respect it is dissimilar.

Much more might be said upon this subject, but we are restrained by that laudable fear of tediousness' which authors should always have before their eyes.

CHAPTER XIX.

ROMNEY MARSH AND DUNGENESS-THE MILITARY CANAL-NAPOLEON-PLANS FOR THE INVASION OF ENGLAND-THE ORIGIN OF ENGLISH LIGHT HOUSES--A TYPE

OF THE MODERN POLITICIAN.

After a few further days spent at Folkestone, to which we returned from our numerous excursions in south-eastern Kent, as persistently as a Frenchman to his "mouton;" days given to the blandishments of sea-side society; the intricacies of short whist, and the excitement of fishing in a cock boat on the English channel, we set out once more by the Coast road to make our contemplated visit to Romney Marsh and Dungeness Light House. More than once the reader has been promised the details of this visit, but as usual, our numerous digressions have prevented his getting them. Instead of going forward by the direct line to the end of our journey, we have allowed ourselves to be drawn aside, like a child following a butterfly, by the attractions of Shorncliff and our interest in the British army, and our sojourn at Beechborough and the delights of society in a country house. These have been the natural and interesting causes of our delay rather than uncontrollable impulse in our pen to wander wantonly and wildly.

The coast road which we again followed, led us, as the reader is now aware, over the familiar path to Sandgate, Shorncliff and Saltwood Castle-the green cliffs of Albion being to our right and the sparkling waters of the deep blue sea spread out to the left. The sky was bright and the air bracing. It seemed but yesterday since the merry month of May. The flowers were gay, sweet and pretty as when in the Spring-time, they leap over the lea and cluster round our feet. The glad voice of what seemed a new spring made the woods and welkin ring. Yet evidence was not wanting that autumn presided over the land. Ripe corn was stacked in the fields, ruddy fruit bent the branches of many a goodly tree, the air was loaded with the scent of gathered hops. Mother earth, with a bounteous hand, scattered rich largess to her children. The plantations of wood were kindling into hues of gorgeous beauty, mixed and manifold; the stubble-field gleamed out like tarnished gold in the mild lustre of the temperate day; clouds in the azure