John Walker, must also be fresh in the recollection of many of our readers.

But to return to fast work; the Edinburgh mail runs the distance, 400 miles, in forty hours, and we may set our watches by it at any point of her journey. Stoppages included, this approaches eleven miles in the hour, and much the greater part of it by lamplight. The Exeter day coach, the Herald, from the Saracen's Head, Snow Hill, runs over her ground, 173 miles,* in twenty hours -admirable performance, considering the natural unevenness of the country through which it has to pass. The Devonport mail does her work in first-rate style, 227 miles in twenty-two hours. In short, from London to Cheltenham, Gloucester, Worcester, Birmingham, Norwich, or any other place, whose distance does not much exceed one hundred miles, is now little more than a pleasant morning drive. We say pleasant, for this extraordinary speed is not attained, generally speaking, by putting animals to anything like cruel exertion. A fast coach has very nearly a horse to every mile of ground it runs -reckoning one way, or one side of the ground."+ Proprietors of coaches have at length found out-though they were a long time before they did discover it, that the hay and corn market is not so expensive as the horse market. They have, therefore, one horse in four always at rest; or, in other words, each horse lies still on the fourth day, thus having the advantage of man. For, example, if ever we turn coach proprietors, or 'get into harness," as the proper term iswhich, as we have become fox-hunters, is by no means impossible-we shall keep ten horses for every ten miles stage we engage to cover. In this case, eight horses only will be at work, four up and four down. If the stage be under seven miles, nine horses may do the work; but no horse in a fast coach can continue to run every day, the excitement of high keep and profuse sweating producing disease. In practice, perhaps no animal toiling for man, solely for his profit, leads so easy and so comfortable a life as the English coach-horse. He is sumptuously fed, kindly treated, and if he do suffer a little in his work, he has twenty-three hours in the twentyfour of luxurious ease. He is now almost a stranger to the lash, nor do we ever see him with a broken skin; but we often see him kick up his heels when taken from his coach, after having performed his stage of ten miles in five minutes under the hour. So much for condition.

* From Calais to Paris is the same distance; the diligence takes at least 48 hours in the summer, and from 50 to 60 in the winter. The Exeter mail is al

lowed 18 hours from London to Exeter; the Paris mail from 28 to 30 hours from Calais to Paris, and this is reckoned quick work.

For example, from London to Shrewsbury is 158 miles, and the number of horses kept for the Wonder coach is 150.

No horse lives so high as a coach-horse. In the language of the road, his stomach is the measure of his corn; he is fed ad libitum. The effect of this is visible in two waysfirst, it is surprising to see how soon horses gather flesh in this severe work-for there is none more severe whilst it lasts; and, secondly, proprietors find that good flesh is no obstacle to their speed, but, on the contrary, operates to their advantage. Horses draw by their weight and not by the force of their muscles, which merely assist the application of that weight; the heavier a horse is then, the more powerful is he in his harness; in short, it is the weight of the animal which produces the draught, and the play and force of his muscles serve to continue it. Light horses, therefore, how good soever their action, ought not to be put to draw a heavy load, as muscular force cannot act against it for any length of time,

The average price of horses for fast coaches may be about 231. Fancy teams, and those working out of London, may be rated considerably higher than this; but taking a hundred miles of ground, well horsed, this is about the mark. The average period of each horse's service does not exceed four year's in a fast coach-perhaps scarcely so much. In a slow one we may allow seven; but in both cases we are alluding to horses put to the work at five or six years old. Considerable judgment is necessary to the selection of horses for fast work in harness; for if they have not action which will command the pace they are timed at, they soon destroy themselves. For a wheel-horse he should have sound fore legs, or he cannot be depended upon, down hill. Good hind legs and well spread guskins are also essential points in a coach-horse→→ the weight or force applied proceeding from the fulcrum formed by the hinder feet. The price we have named as the average one for such animals may appear a very low one : but we must remember that to be a hunter a horse must have length of shoulder, length of frame, well placed hinder legs, and a wellbitted mouth-whereas, without any of these qualities he may make an excellent coachhorse-and hence the value of the coach market to our breeders. Blemished horses also find their way into coaches, as do those whose tempers are bad; neither is a blind horse, with good courage, altogether objectionable now the roads are so level.

We

It may not be uninteresting to the uninitiated to learn how a coach is worked. will then assume that A, B, C, and D enter into a contract to horse a coach eighty miles -each proprietor having twenty miles; in which case, he is said to cover both sides of the ground, or, to and fro. At the expiration of twenty-eight days, the lunar month, a settlement takes place, and if the gross earnings of the coach should be 107. per mile,

there will be 8007. to divide between the four proprietors, after the following charges have been deducted, viz., tolls, duty to government, mileage, (or hire of the coach, to the coachmaker,) two coachmen's wages, porter's wages, rent or charge of booking offices at each end, and washing the coaches. These charges may amount to 150%, which leaves 650l. to keep eighty horses and to pay the horse-keepers, for a period of twenty-eight days; or nearly 1607. to each proprietor for the expenses of his twenty horses, being 27. per week, per horse. Thus it appears, that a fast coach, properly appointed, cannot pay unless its gross receipts amount to 107. per double mile; and that even then, the horser's profits depend on the luck he has with his stock.

In the present age, the art of mechanism is eminently reduced to the practical purposes of life, and the modern form of the stagecoach seems to have arrived at perfection. It combines prodigious strength with almost incredible lightness, not weighing more than about eighteen hundred weight; and being kept so much nearer the ground than formerly, is of course considerably safer. Accidents, no doubt, occur, and a great many more than meet the public eye; but how should this be otherwise, when we take into account the immense number of coaches on the road, a great portion of which travel through the night, and have all the varieties of our climate to contend with. No one will assert that the proprietors guard against accidents to the utmost of their power-but the great competition they have to encounter is a strong stimulant to their exertions on this score. Indeed, in some respects, the increase of pace has become the traveller's security." Coaches and harness must be of the best quality; horses must be fresh and sound, and coach men of science and respectability can alone be employed.

On the whole, however, travelling by public conveyances was never so secure as it is at the present time. Nothing can be more favourable to it than the build of the modern coaches. The boots being let down between the springs, keep the load, consequently the centre of gravity, low: the wheels of many of them are secured by patent boxes; and in every part of them the best materials are used. The cost of coaches of this description is from 1307. to 1507.; but they are generally hired from the maker, at from 24d. to 3d. per mile.

The common height of the stage-coach wheels of the present day, is as follows:-the fore wheels three feet four inches, the hinder four feet eight inches. As the former turn

* To give one instance the Worcester mail was one of the slowest on the road, and the oftenest overturned. She is now fast, and reckoned one of the saftest in England.

round so much oftener than the latter, and also bear more weight, they require to have their fellies fresh wrung about every five weeks; whereas, the latter will stand good for two months, or more. The strength of a wheel depends greatly on the attention paid to the arrangement and framing of the spokes. In common wheels, they are framed regularly and equally all round the thickest part of the nave, the tenons of the spokes being so bevelled as to stand about three inches out of perpendicular, by which is produced the dishing wheel. This dishing, or concave wheel, is not essential on our present rutless road, and perpendicular wheels are preferable on level ground. The best wheels we know of, are those under our mail-coaches. The spokes are framed somewhat differently into the nave, which is made rather larger than is usual for common coach wheels, and every other spoke is framed perpendicular to the nave. Hence, the mortises to receive them in it are not made in a parallel line round it, but stand as it were in two different parallels -one without the other-by which means greater solidity is given to the nave, and an immense addition of strength to the wheel. What is called the patent hoop, always used in stage coaches, having the iron tire drawn into one complete ring is not put on these wheels, but the common strokes, as they are called, forged and hammered to the sweep of the rings, and in lengths equal to those of the fellies, are put on red hot, and well secur ed by rivetted nails. The mail fore-wheel is somewhat higher than that of the stagecoach, which is an advantage. Low forewheels place the axle so much below the level of the wheel-horse's breasts, that they have not only the carriage to draw, but also part of its weight to bear. This weight distresses their hams, stifles, and hocks, and accounts for coach-horses being so soon unfit for the saddle. It is evident that attention to these points is necessary in putting horses to a coach, and when the fore wheels are low, the wheelhorses should have as much length of trace as can be given them, for the line of traction should be as nearly even with the draught of the horse as we can make it.†

Thus it is with a farmer's wagon. When the shaft-horse is standing at rest-allowing two degrees of an angle for that position-the point of the shaft is nearly even with the top of the fore wheel, but when the horse exerts his strength to move a load, he brings his breast so much nearer the ground, that the line of

draught is almost horizontal, and in a line with its

centre. The trace of a coach-horse, when he stands at rest, is also oblique to the horizon, and must be so with low fore-wheels; but it approaches the horizontal when he is at work, and the nearer it approaches to it the better. Horses draw by their weight, and not by the force of their muscles; the hinder feet, then, being the fulcrum of the lever by which their weight acts against a load, when they pull hard, it depresses their chests-thus increasing the lever of its weight, and diminishing the lever by which the load resists its efforts.

and the majors are nearly as numerous; making an aggregate of upwards of fifteen hundred generals and field-officers actually receiving pay from the British government. If Alexander, Hannibal, Cæsar, or Gustavus Adolphus, were to revisit this earth, and be told, that the government of the little island of Great Britain employed upwards of five hundred generals to command about one hundred thousand men, they would not believe the information, although it came from an oracle!

By referring to the Army List it will be seen, that, in the British service, there is a commander-in-chief, with a secretary, who holds military levees, and reports to Lord Hill -a secretary at war, and his deputy—a master-general of the ordnance--a paymaster-general of the forces-an adjutant-general, and a quartermaster-general, with their respective deputies-and all these officers receive considerable salaries from the public. There are also a board of general officers for the clothing of the army, an acting committee, and a board of inspectors-also an inspector of army colours commissioners of the military collegeand commissioners of the military asylum.

Notes of a Reader.

RURAL RECOLLECTIONS. (By the Author of the Corn Law Rhymes.) FLOWERS, ye remind me of rock, vale, and wood, Haunts of my early days, and still loved well: Bloom not your sisters fair in Locksley's dell? And where the sun, o'er purpled moorlands wide, Gilds Wharncliffe's oaks, while Don is dark below? And where the blackbird sings on Rother's side? And where Time spares the age of Conisbro'? Sweet flowers, remembered well! your hues, your breath,

Call the dead, to combat still with death: up

The spirits of my buried years arise!

Again a child, where childhood roved I run;

While groups of speedwell, with their bright blue

eyes,

Like happy children, cluster in the sun.
Still the wan primrose hath a golden core;
The millfoil thousand-leafed as heretofore,
Displays a little world of flowerets gray;
And tiny maids might hither come to cull
The wo-marked cowslip of the dewy May:
And still the fragrant thorn is beautiful.
I do not dream! Is it indeed a rose
That, yonder in the deepening sunset, glows?
Methinks the orchis of the fountained world
Hath, in its well-known beauty, something new,
Do I not know thy lofty disk of gold,

Thou, that still wooest the sun, with passion true?
No, splendid stranger! haply, I have seen

One, not unlike thee, but with humbler mien,
Watching her lord. Oh, lily, fair as aught,
Beneath the sky, thy pallid petals glow

In evening's blush; but evening borrows naught
Of thee, thou rival of the stainless snow-
For thou art scentless, Lo! this finger'd flower,
That round the cottage-window weaves a bower,
Is not the woodbine; but that lowlier one,
With thick green leaves, and spike of dusky fire,
Enamoured of the thatch it grows upon,
Might be the houseleek of rude Hallamshire,
And would awake, beyond divorcing seas,
Thoughts of green England's peaceful cottages.
Yes, and this blue-eyed child of earth, that beuds
Its head on leaves, with liquid diamonds set,
A heavenly fragrance in its sighing sends;
And though 'tis not our downcast violet,
Yet might it, haply, to the zephyr tell,
That 'tis beloved by village maids as well,
Thou little, dusky, crimson-bosomed bird,
Starting, but not in fear, from tree to tree,
I never erst thy plaintive love-notes heard,
Nor hast thou been a suppliant erst to me
For table-crumbs, when winds bowed branch and
stem,

And leafless twigs formed winter's diadem :-
No, thou art not the bird that haunts the grange,
Storm-pinched, with bright black eyes, and breast of
flame.

I look on things familiar, and yet strange-
Known, and yet new-most like, yet not the same.
I hear a voice, ne'er heard before, repeat
Songs of the past. But nature's voice is sweet,
Wherever heard; her works, wherever seen,
Are might and beauty to the mind and eye;
To the lone heart, though oceans roll between,
She speaks of things that but with life can die;
And while, above the thundering Gihon's foam,

That cottage smokes, my heart seems still at home,
In England still, though there no mighty flood
Sweeps like a foaming earthquake, from the clouds;
Shelters the peasant's home, remote from crowds,
But still in England, where rock-shading wood

And sheltered once as noble hearts as e'er
Dwelt in th' Almighty's form, and knew nor guilt nor
fear.

How like an eagle, from his mile-high rock
Down swoops the Gihon, smitten into mist
On groaning crags, that, thunder-stunned, resist
The headlong thunder, and eternal shock,
Where, far below, like ages with their deeds,
The watery anarchy doth foam and sweep!
Now winged with light, which winged gloom suc-
ceeds;

Now beautiful as hope, or wild and deep
As fate's last mystery; now swift and bright
As human joy, then black as horror's night!"

(Quoted in the Literary Gazette.)

Next crowne the bowle full With gentle lambs-wooll; Adde sugar, nutmeg, and ginger, With store of ale, too;

And thus ye must doe

To make the wassaile a swinger.

Give then to the king

And queene wassailing;

And though with ale ye be whet here; Yet part ye from hence

As free from offence,

As when ye innocent met here.

ACCESSION OF QUEEN ELIZABETH.

ELIZABETH received the tidings of this great change in her fortune at Hatfield, where she had resided for several years in the mild custody of Sir Thomas Pope, but under the watchful eye of a guard. On being apprised of her accession, she fell down on her knees, saying, "This is the Lord's doing, and it is marvellous in our eyes."* She almost instantly gave an earnest of the principles which were to govern her reign, by accepting, on the same day, a note of advice † on the most urgent matters from Sir William Cecil, whom she restored to the post of secretary of state, which he had occupied under Edward, and from which he was removed by Mary. Although he was charged by some with a few compliances in the latter years of that princess, he was, nevertheless, known and trusted as a zealous and tried adherent of the protestant cause. He was sworn a privycounsellor on the 20th, with his friends and followers, Parry, Rogers, and Cave. On that day, also, the Earl of Bedford, who had only a short time before returned from a visit to the protestant exiles at Zurich, took his seat at the same board. Though many of the privy counsellors of Mary were re-appointed, the principles of the majority of the queen's confidential servants, who held their sittings at Hatfield, left no doubt of her policy. Of the doubtful three who were present there, the Earl of Pembroke was a perpetual conformist to the religion of the court. Lord Clinton received trusts and honours from Elizabeth, which showed him to be no enemy of her faith; and Lord William Howard was retained, in part, perhaps, from the queen's recollection that she was the grand neice of a Duke of Norfolk, which seems to have tinged the policy of her earlier years.

The council at Hatfield performed all the duties of a supreme administration. They gave orders to the admirals in the channel; they despatched instructions to the English plenipotentiaries at Cambray; they thanked the magistrates for staying prosecutions for

Naunton's Fragmenta Regalia.

+ Strype, Ann. i. 5. Oxford edition, 1824. The records of the privy council, in the first three years of Elizabeth, are wanting at the Council Office. Lodge's Illustrations, i. 302. 306.

mate birth, and maintained her royal title, on which their own hopes of safety depended, to followers of the catholic faith who viewed her as the fruit of an unhallowed union, to whom no other obedience could be due than might have been claimed by Nero.

The council at Hatfield issued their orders on Monday the 21st, for the ceremonial of the queen's entrance into London, which was fixed for Wednesday the 23rd, and on that day she made her solemn entrance into her capital. At the age of twenty-five years, which she had just passed, it is easy for a queen to be applauded for personal attractions. We are told by a Venetian minister, that she was then "a lady of great elegance both of mind and body; of a countenance rather pleasing than beautiful: tall and well made; her complexion fine, though rather dark; her eyes beautiful; and, above all, her hands, which she did not conceal." She is described by some as majestic, by others as haughty; but all representations concur in showing that her countenance and port were rather commanding than alluring, yet not without a certain lofty grace which became a ruler. The literary instruction which she had received from Roger Ascham had familiarized her mind, in her sixteenth year, with the two ancient languages which were at that time almost the sole inlets to the treasures of knowledge and the masterpieces of genius. Latin she acquired from the complete perusal of Cicero and Livy, the greatest prose writers of Rome. She compared the philosophical works of Plato with the abridgements of a Grecian philosophy by which Cicero instructed and delighted his fellow citizens; and she' would be taught by Ascham how much the orations of Demosthenes, which she read under his eye, surpassed those of the greatest masters of Roman eloquence. She is mentioned by her preceptor as at the head of the lettered ladies of England, excelling even Jane Grey and Margaret Roper.-Cabinet Cyclopædia.-Sir James Mackintosh's History of England, vol. iii.

§ Jewel to Peter Martyr, 26th January, 1559. Burnet, book vi. Appendix, The names of these persons were Sands and Horn. Jewel, who was then at Strasburgh, had, before the date of his letter, received from Zurich the account sent from England to that town of the favourable reception of these two men.

Fine Arts.

CROSBY HALL.

[CROSBY HALL is a rare and beautiful specimen of the domestic architecture of the fifteenth century. It should, therefore, he preserved as a canon art; and we are happy to find, a committee of gentlemen has been formed to further its restoration. One of the most intelligent of the members, Mr. E. I. Carlos, has, however, in our estimation aided the funds by a hundred-fold more than his subscription, in publishing a pamphlet of Historical and Antiquarian Notices of the Hall, which will probably set persons thinking and talking about this interesting structure,-induce them to visit the same, and, we may almost add, consequently, to subscribe their quota for its preservation.

Upwards of five years and a half since,* we engraved Crosby House in our pages; but the interest in its fate has recently caused it to be re-engraved by our contemporaries. We shall, therefore, only quote, from Mr. Carlos's tract, the description of the present state of the Hall, or principal apartment; presuming that the reader is in possession of the association of the structure with the headlong-history of Richard III., as enshrined in the immortal verse of Shakspeare.]

pre

The entrance to the Hall was in all probability through one or more doorways in the south wall, beneath the passage which ceded the present entrance to Crosby square;t this passage, in such case, would have sustain ed a gallery separated from the Hall by a lofty screen of timber, occupying the space between the passage and the roof, and which, through arches, would admit a view of the Hall from the gallery. At the opposite end was a similar screen, which not only separated the adjacent apartments from the Hall, but also admitted a view from some of them into the Hall. Galleries of this description were common to most ancient halls; one of such galleries being always the music or minstrels' gallery, and they were also used for other purposes. How far the truth of these conjec

* See Mirror, vol. ix. p. 329.

At Penshurst a passage runs through the wall in a similar manner. It forms the only communication between the principal and the garden court. The splendid Hall of the Middle Temple has a similar passage still in use, which lately communicated with a suite of chambers.

"The Minstrels' Gallery in Haddon Hall was resorted to by the family when they chose to have no direct intercourse with the assembled visiters in the space below. This arrangement was common, perhaps without exception, in the mansions built during the reigns of Elizabeth and James; and the magnificent character of the Halls of that age may be witnessed at Burton Agnes, Longleat, and Hatfield, The screen in the first is a design of extraordinary richness, and that in the last of grandeur, which it is impossible not to admire. Its summit reaches nearly to the ceiling, and conceals the appearance of a gallery, from which, however, a view of the room is obtained through a handsome areade."-This extract,

tures is borne out by the present state of Crosby Hall will appear in the course of the ensuing description. The interior is now seen to disadvantage, owing to the two floors which have been erected since the building was completed; § but one benefit results from this arrangement, in its allowing a closer inspection of the roof than could otherwise be obtained.

The minstrels' gallery, or rather its site, at the recent commemoration of Sir Thomas Gresham, held on Thursday, the 12th of July, was occupied by the choir engaged in the muat the conclusion of the service in the church; sical performances of that interesting festival, and, after a lapse of so many years, the an, ed with the voice of harmony, cient roof of Crosby Hall once more resound.

The matchless roof, or ceiling, is decidedly one of the finest specimens of timber-work in existence. It differs from many other examples in respect of being an inner roof; the material showing the actual timbers of the generality of ancient coverings of the same roof, set off with ornamental mouldings and additions. It is constructed of oak or chest: nut, it is difficult to say which; the section shows a low pointed arch, approaching to an ellipsis, a form admirably calculated for the dissemination of sound. In plan it is made into eight divisions in length, and four in breadth; each of which principal compartments is again subdivided, by moulded styles, into four smaller divisions or panels, as nearly square as the coving of the ceiling would admit. From the points of intersection of the tagonal ornaments, pierced with small niches, main divisions hang pendants, which end in oceach pendant forming the centre of four arches; so that in whatever point it is viewed,

the design presents a series of arches of elegant construction; and, as lightness appears to be the characteristic of the entire composi

to that which the present appearance of Crosby Hall showing a similar arrangement in ancient buildings seems to indicate, is from "An Historical and De

scriptive Account of the Royal Palace of Eltham, by but replete with information on ancient, domestic

John Chessell Buckler," Oct. 1828: a small work,

architecture, a branch of architectural study to which the author has devoted great attention, and who is now evincing the extent of his knowledge in the splendid Old English mansion he is engaged in building for Lord Stafford, at Cossey, co. Norfolk.

The lower floor was probably inserted at the time of the conversion of the Hall into a meetinghouse, as the panelling still remaining appears to indicate. The upper was added since the Hall became a packer's warehouse.

There are many specimens of timber rooffing at. tainable to residents in the metropolis, who may be desirous of studying this branch of architecture; for whose information the following list, with dates of the buildings, is subjoined :-Westminster Hall, 1397; Crosby Hall, 1466; Eltham Palace, before 1482; Beddington, near Croydon Hall; of the Archiepiscopal Palace, Croydon; Hampton Court, temp. Henry VIII.; Gray's Inn Hall, temp. Philip and Mary; the Middle Temple Hall, 1570; and Lambeth Palace, temp. Car. II.