His lordship died in 1711, and was succeeded in his title and estates by Henry, his only son, who, in 1723, by the death of Edward, third carl of Clarendon, succeeded likewise to that earldom; but he dying in 1753, and leaving no male issue, his grand daughter, lady Charlotte Capel, became, the representative of the Hyde family: and, pursuant to the will of the said Henry, earl of Clarendon and Rochester, she took the name and arms of Hyde, Her ladyship, in 1752, was married to the honourable Thomas Villiers, second son to the earl of Jersey: who was, by king George the Second, in 1756, created lord Hyde of Hindou, in the county of Wilts, and had the further honour of the earldom of Clarendon conferred on him by his late majesty George the Third, in 1776. His lordship died the 15th December, 1786, leaving this castle and his estates in Warwickshire, to his eldest son the present earl of Clarendon.

QUEEN ELIZABETH.

THIS chivalrous queen seems to have partaken pretty freely of the hospitality of the age in which she reigned, as a few of her entertainments will testify. In 1557, Sir Nicholas Bacon entertained her majesty at Gowhambury, near St. Albans, from Saturday, May 18, to the Wednes day following, at the expense of £577. 6s. 74d. beside 15 bucks and two stags. Among the dainties of the feathered kind, in this entertainment, we observe herons, bitterus, godwittes, dotterds, shovelers, curlews, and knots. In Mr. Nichols' relation of her majesty's visit to Cowdry in Sussex, where she spent some days, we find "the proportion of breakfast was 3 oxen and 140 geese!

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In 1573, Abp. Parker entertained the Queen and her suite with great splendor, at Croydon palace, for several days. Like George III. she was fond of minute detail, and the following arrangements for this last journey are still preserved in record.

Arrangements for Queen Elizabeth's visit to Croydon, written by Mr. Boyer, gentleman of the black-rod, deposited in the library at Lambeth.

"Lodgings at Croydon, the Bussbope of Canterburye's house, bestowed as followeth, the 19th of May, 1574. "The lorde chamberlayne his old lodgings.

"The lorde treasurer wher he was.

"The ladie marques at the nether end of the great chamber.

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"The ladie Warwicke wher she was.

"The lorde admyral at the nether end of the great chamber.

"The ladie Howard wher she was.

"The lorde Hundsdon wher he was.

"Mr. Secry. Walsingham where Mr. Smith was. "The ladie Stafford wher she was.

"Mr. Henedge wher he was.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the privie chamber ther olde. "Mrs. Abingdon her olde, and another small room added for the table.

"The maydes of honour wher they wher.

"Sir Geo. Howard wher he was.

"The capt. of the garde wher my lorde of Oxforde was. "The grooms of the privye chamber ther olde.

"The esquyers thrs olde.

"The geutn. hussars thrs olde.

"The physysyons thrs olde.

"The physysyons two chambers.

"The queens robes wher they were.

"The clerke of the kitchen wher he was.

"The wardrobe of beds.

"For the Queens wayghters I cannot find any conve nency roomnes to place them in: but, 1 will do the best 1 can to place them elsewher: but yf it please you, sir, that I doo remove them, the grooms of the pryvie chamber nor Mr. Drewreyre, haye any other way to their chambers but to pass them that way. Agayne if my lady of Oxforde should come, I cannot tell wher to place Mr. Hatton, and for my lady Carewe, here is no place with a chimney for her; but she must lay abroad with Mrs. Apparty, and the rest of the pryvye chamber; for Mrs. Skelton there is no room with chimney, I shall staye one chamber without for her. Here is as mytch as I have been any ways able to do in this house. From Croydon, this present Wensday morning,

"Your honours always most bounden,

"S. BOWYER." Kenilworth Castle, in Warwickshire, was also the queen's favorite retreat, but here were the superior attrac tions of a partner in these courtly revels.

DE LOLME

WHO wrote on the constitution a most valuable and admired work, was for a long time suffered to feel the pangs of want, and the inflictions of disease, unpitied and unrelieved. A trifle was sent him by the Literary Fund, to which he was necessitated to apply. That such a man should need wherewith to buy him bread was a disgrace to any civilized country in which he might live. Juvenal, thy words have been realized:

-Cum fregit subsellia versu,

Esurit!

"What hast thou done to sink so peacefully to rest."

BYRON--Childe Harolde.

CALMLY he died, the gallant youth,

When still'd was demon war's commotion,
When summer's trees were green, and smooth
The surface of the ocean:

Well for his sake may friendship weep,

Weep, that, when battle toils were done,
When glory's wreath was bravely won,
Too swiftly should descend his sun,

O'er being's western steep!

I heard the roll of muffled drum-
I heard the bugle's lonely wailing-
As to the church-yard they were come
With honours nought availing;

I saw the sad procession move,

With arms reversed, and looks of woe-
The pall, the bearers moving slow-

The sword and helm, with plumes of snow,

The coffin-lid above.

Prancing along with hoof of pride,
Unconscious of the sad disaster,
Unmounted, led on either side,
Behind its ancient master,
The gallant war-horse followed; oft,
To battle had he borne his lord,
Nor started at the flashing sword,

When trumpets sung, when cannons roared,

And smoke-clouds gloomed aloft.

Then slowly 'mid the new dug ground,
I saw the sable bier descending;

The grave fill'd up, his comrades round,
With heads uncover'd bending:

In pensive mood I turned away,

And from the mournful scene did steal,
Full sad and sore my heart did feel
As thrice I heard the volley peal
Above his senseless clay!

Yes, there they left him! daisies grow
Upon the turf that wraps his bosom,
And round the evening breezes strew
The hawthorn's silver blossom;
He hears no more the clarion sound-

No more the helmet decks his head-
No more in love, by him are led,
His gallant troop; but, in his stead,
Another now is found!

Yes! all must die, and pass away,
The fair-the noble-and the brave!
"Tis desolate-I dare not stay

To hear the breeze sigh o'er the grave!
Well may the lonely bosom ache,

To mark the grey sepulchral stone,
And hear the melancholy moan,
As the long grass and weeds upon
The church-tower's summit shake!

COUSIN MARY.

ANY years ago, passing a few days with the highly educated daughters of some friends in this neighbourhood, I found domesticated in the family, a young lady, whom I shall call, as they did, cousin Mary. She was about eighteen, not beautiful perhaps, but lovely certainly, to the fullest extent of that loveliest word. As fresh as a rose; as fair as a lily; with lips like winter berries, dimpled, smiling lips ; and eyes of which nobody could tell the colour, they danced so incessantly in their own gay light. Her figure was tall, round, and slender ; exquisitely well proportioned, it must have been, for in all attitudes, and in her innocent gaiety, she was scarcely ever two minutes in the same, she was grace itself. She was in short the very picture of youth, health, and happiness. No one could see her without being prepossessed in her favour. I took a fancy to her the moment she entered the room; and it increased every hour in spite of, or rather perhaps for, certain deficiencies which caused poor cousin Mary to be held exceedingly cheap by her accomplished relatives. She was the youngest daughter of an officer of rank, dead long ago; and his sickly widow having lost by death, or that other death, marriage, all her children but this, could not from very fondness, resolve to part with her darling for the purpose of acquiring the commonest instruction. She talked of it indeed now and then, but she only talked; so that in this age of universal education, Mary C. at eighteen, exhibited the extraordinary phenomenon of a young woman of high family, whose acquirements were limited to reading, writing, needle-work, and the first rules of arithmetic. The effect of this let alone system, combined with a careful seclusion from all improper society, and a perfect liberty in her country rambles, acting upon a mind of great power and activity, was