forty poor boys of Manchester, between the ages of six and fourteen years children of poor but honest parents no bastards, nor diseased at the time they are chosen, nor lame, nor blind; in regard the town of Manchester hath ample means already (if so employed) for the maintenance of such impotents.' The hospital thus founded was incorporated by Charles II. In 1700 the number of boys was increased to sixty, and from 1779 ato 1826 eighty boys were annually maintained, clothed, and educated. In the year 1718 the income of the hospital amounted to £517 8s. 4d., and in 1826 it had reached to £2,608 3s. 11d. "He bequeathed, moreover, the sum of £1,000 to be expended in books, and £100 towards erecting a building for their -safe deposit, intending thus to lay the foundation of a public library; and the residue of his estate (amounting to near £2,000) to be devoted to the increase of the said library and the support of a librarian. In 1826 this fund was returned at £542 per annum. The number of volumes is now about 20,000. Mr. Chetham died unmarried September 20th, 1653, and was buried at the Collegiate Church, where a monument has recently been erected to his memory at the cost of a former participator in his bounty." The following description of the house, at Crumpsall, in which Humphrey Chetham was born, is also given in Booker's History of Blackley Chapel : 100 Crumpsall Hall, the residence of this branch of the Chethams, was another specimen of the half-timbered mansions already described. In design the same arrangement seems to have been followed that is met with in many of the halls erected during the fourteenth and two succeeding centuries an oblong pile forming the centre, with cross gables at each end, projecting some distance outwards. The framework consisted of a series of vertical timbers, crossed by others placed transversely, with the exception of the gables, in the upper part of which the braces sprang diagonally from the centre or king-post. The roofs were of high pitch, and extended considerably beyond the outer surface of the walls, thus not only allowing of a more rapid drain of water, but also affording a greater protection from the weather. The hall was of two stories, and lighted chiefly by bay-windows, an occasional dormer-window in the upper story rising above the roof, and adding to the effect of the building by destroying that lineal appearance which it would otherwise have assumed. This mansion, though never possessing any great pretensions to architectural excellence, was nevertheless interesting from the picturesque arrangement of its details, and may be considered a very creditable example of the middle-class houses of the period to which it is referred. It occupied a site distant nearly a quarter of a mile from that of the present hall, and was taken down about the year 1825.” Well may Fuller, writing of Humphrey Chetham, say, "God send us more such men!" The " poor boys" of Manchester may well repeat the prayer, and pray also that heaven may send after them men who will strictly look to the righteous administration of the bequests which such men leave behind them. It is not yet a week since I went down to the Chetham Library, to copy, from Booker's "History of Blackley," the foregoing particulars respecting its founder. The day was dark and damp, and the great quadrangle of the college was as still as a church-yard. Going up the old stair-case, and, treading as lightly as I could with a heavy foot, as I went by the principal librarian's room door, I entered the cloistral gloom of the old library. All was stirless and silent, as I wandered on through the dark array of book-laden shelves. The sub-librarian was writing in some official volume upon the sill of a latticed window, in one of the recesses. Hearing an approaching foot, he came out, and looked the usual quiet inquiry. """Booker's Blackley,' "" said I. He went to one of the recesses, unlocked the door, and brought out the book. "Will you enter it, sir," said he, pointing to the oblong volume kept for that purpose. I did so, and walked on into the "Reading Room" of the library; glancing, as I went in, at Oliver Cromwell's sword, which hangs above the door-way. There was a good fire, and I had that interesting, antique apartment all to myself. The lofty, arched old room looked very clean and comfortable, and the hard, oaken floor resounded to the footstep. The whole furniture was of the most quaint and substantial character. It was panelled all round with bright old black oak. The windows were latticed, and the window-sills broad. The heavy tables were of solid oak, and the chairs of the same, with leather-covered and padded seats and backs, studded with brass nails. A curiously-carved black oak book-stand stood near the door, and several antique mirrors and dusky portraits hung around upon the dark panelling. Among these is the portrait of Bradford the martyr, a native of Manchester. In the library there is a small black-letter volume, entitled, "Letters of Maister John Bradford, a faythfull minister and a syngular pyllar of Christe's Church: by whose great trauiles and diligence in preaching and planting the syncerity of the Gospel, by whose most goodly and innocent lyfe, and by whose long and payneful imprisonments for the maintenance of the truth, the kingdom of God was not a little aduanced: who also at last most valiantly and cheerfully gaue his blood for the same. 4th day of July. In the year of our Lord 1555." The portrait of Humphrey Chetham, the founder, stands immediately above the old-fashioned fireplace, under the emblazoned arms of his family. Sitting by the fire, at a little oak-table covered with green baize, I copied the particulars here given, relative to Chetham's bequest to the people of his native locality. I could not but lift my eyes now and then towards that solemn and gentlemanly old face, inwardly moved by a feeling which reverently said, "Will it do?" The countenance of the fine old merchant seemed to wear an expression of sorrow, not unmingled with quiet anger, at the spectacle of twenty thousand books-intended as a "Free Library," though now, in comparison with its possibilities, free chiefly in name-twenty thousand books, packed together in gloomy seclusion, yet surrounded by a weltering crowd of five hundred thousand busy people, a The great number of whom really hunger for the mass of knowledge here, in a great measure, consigned with most excellent re>>gistrative care and general bibliopolic skill to dusty oblivion -and the worm. It is true that this cunningly-secreted "Free Library" is open six hours out of the twenty-four, but these - hours fall precisely within that part of the day in which people who have to work for their bread are cooped up at their occupations. At night, when the casino, the singing-room, and the male-house, and all the low temptations of a great city are open, and actively competing for their prey, the Chetham Library is dark and still, and has been locked up for hours. I am not sure that the noble-hearted founder would be enthusiastically satisfied with it all, if he saw the relations of these things now. It seems all the more likely that he would not be so, when one observes the significant tone in which, in his will, he alludes - to the administration of certain other local charities existing in his own time. After specially naming the class of “poor boys' for whose benefit his Hospital was intended, he specially excludes certain others, “in regard the town of Manchester hath sample means already (IF SO EMPLOYED) for the maintenance of : such impotents." Judging, from the glimpse we have in this · passage, of his way of thinking upon matters of this kind, it vseems likely that, if it were possible to consult him upon the subject, he would consider it a pity that the twenty thousand books in the library, and the five hundred thousand people outside the walls, are not brought into better acquaintance with each other. So, also, murmurs many a poor and thoughtful man, as he walks by the college gates, in his hours of leisure, when the library is closed. 235 ROSTHERNE MERE. (A CHESHIRE SKETCH.) "Though much the centuries take, and much bestow, Whom, slowly pricking from the neighbouring plains, Linking the "then" and "there" with "now" and "here," The grace serene that dwells on grove and len. The tranquil charm of little Rostherne Mere." F. ESPINASSE. ROSTHERNE MERE was a pet theme with a young friend of mine, and we started together towards that place, at noon, on Sunday, the 9th of June. Walking up to the Oxford Road Station, we paid our sixpences, and got our tickets to Bowdon, which is the nearest point to Rostherne Mere, by rail, being four miles from the latter place. The train was not yet up, and we sauntered about the platform, among a number of welldressed people, of all classes, with a host of plump children crowing among them, all waiting in smiling anxiety to go the same way. The day was fine, and the sky clear, except where a few gauzy clouds floated across it with dreamy grace, as if they had come out for a holiday. Everything seemed to feel that it was Sunday. The fields, and groves, and gardens were drest in their best. It was the Sabbath of the year with them. In a few minutes our fiery iron horse had whirled us to Bowdon, and we were walking up the wooden steps that lead from the |