The print room, to those who are fond of engravings, is a treat absolutely inexhaustible. Historical subjects, landcapes, seascapes, architectural designs, portraits, animals birds, fishes, insects, trees, shells, fossils, fruit, flowers, and ornaments, by the most eminent artists, English and foreign, are kept in the nicest order. The connoisseur and amateur may here revel in boundless variety. The library is, perhaps, after all, still more generally valuable than any other part of the Museum, containing, as it does, almost every book from which pleasure and information can be derived. The manuscripts are very numerous, and the persons in the reading room, where I am making my closing remarks, sufficiently testify, by their numbers and busy attention, how highly they estimate the advantages of the institution.

CHELSEA COLLEGE,

AND

GREENWICH HOSPITAL.

THERE is the College, and there are the grey-headed old soldiers, in their red coats and cocked hats! I must go nearer, and exchange a word or two with these veterans, for they have plenty of time for talking.

To say that this is a handsome building, is not saying much; for we may rest assured that every edifice designed and built by sir Christopher Wren has much to recommend it; but Greenwich Hospital is so far superior to it, that it seems to cast Chelsea College into the

shade. I am now drawing near the aged soldiers, some sitting in rows, some standing in groups, and others walking about by themselves.

After all, there is a sobriety about this brick and freestone edifice which pleases me; for I question if the magnificence of a more imposing building would harmonize so well with the purpose to which the college is applied, and with the plain habits of its inmates. Not for a moment, much as I am opposed to war, with its multiplied sins and sorrows-not for a moment would I abridge of any real comfort or convenience those who have fought the battles of my country. Would that I could make them more happy than they are, and see the warriors of by-gone days the partakers of a peace that "passeth all understanding;" but a plain building seems to me more suitable to them, as a dwelling-place, than a structure of magnificence and splendour. I never see a Greenwich pensioner by that splendid palace of a building, Greenwich Hospital, without thinking that custom alone has reconciled us to so strange a contrast. How would Old Humphrey, with his homely habits, appear, and how would he feel, sitting down to the banquet at Buckingham palace, or the castle at Windsor, with a silver service before him, and a set of crimsonliveried serving men at his back?

But think not that I am ignorant of the general bearing of these things. It is not only thought necessary that disabled soldiers and sailors should be provided for, but that the attention paid to them should be visible to the public eye; that it should be known, seen, felt, and talked of, that the nation's defenders are not forgotten, -that they have pensions granted them, and live in pa laces. I blame not this policy, and only say, Would

that we were all as wise for another world as we are for this!

. I remember reading that sir Stephen Fox, the grandfather of the statesman, who projected Chelsea College, died in his ninetieth year. A good old age truly; but if after threescore years and ten our strength is labour and sorrow, it will be far better to prepare to quit the world at a much earlier period, than to desire so lengthy a pilgrimage.

Nell Gwyn, the favourite of Charles II., has the credit of having recommended that monarch the adoption of sir Stephen Fox's project. Sir Christopher Wren was employed, and king Charles laid the foundation stone of the building. Sir Stephen Fox's heart must have been in the undertaking, for he spent in it twelve or thirteen thousand pounds of his own money. It was in 1682 that the first stone was laid.

I have walked through the college, the three courts, the garden, and the terraced walks, from the entrance down to the side of the Thames, talking with the greyheaded soldiers, picking up scraps of information, and examining the large bronze statue of Charles II., and other curiosities.

It appears that there are near five hundred in-pensioners in the establishment, that regular garrison duty is kept up, and that divine service is performed three times every week in the chapel. The number of outpensioners is very great. A poundage is paid by the whole British army to support the college, and every officer and every private soldier contributes a day's pay once a year to the fund. The parliament is ever ready to make up a deficiency, let the sum be what it may, for

neither the old soldiers nor the old sailors of England are neglected.

In talking with these old fire-locks of England, the pensioners, I learn that the origin of the present regular army was the corps of Life Guards, established by king Charles II.; for the "Yoemen of the Guard" of Henry VII., and the archers or sergeants-at-arms of Richard I., could hardly be called soldiers. I learn also, from the same authority, that there are not, were not, and never will be, any soldiers like those of Old England. Aged as some of the inmates of the college are, some of them can bristle up even now when a bayonet is spoken of. It is high time for them to be still, and in charity with all mankind.

I should take a peep at the boys in the Royal Military Asylum near, dressed up in their red jackets, blue breeches and stockings, and black caps, going through their exercise; and at the girls in their red gowns and blue petticoats, both the one and the other marching to their meals to the sound of the drum; but Greenwich Hospital, which I mean to see to-day, is at some distance. I must, therefore, instead of visiting the asylum, step on board a steamer. Chelsea college, I bid thee farewell! Would that thy grey-haired and furrow-browed inmates. were fighting as manfully against sin in their age, as they have contended against their foes in their youth! Would that they were ready to give glory to thee, rather than to themselves, saying, "Thine, O Lord, is the greatness, and the power, and the glory, and the victory, and the majesty; for all that is in the heaven and in the earth is thine: thine is the kingdom, O Lord! and thou art exalted as head above all. Both riches and honor come of thee, and thou reignest over all; and in thine

hand is power and might; and in thine hand it is to make great, and to give strength unto all. Now, therefore, our God, we thank thee, and praise thy glorious name," 1 Chron. xxix. 11-13.

*

Ay, this looks like a palace indeed, with its wings, cupolas, pillars, courts, and terraces! And there are. long rows of pensioners seated on the benches, talking together, and gazing at the ships and steam-boats on the river. There are, I am told, at the present time, more than two thousand seven hundred of these furrow-faced, quiet looking old sojourners snugly nestled in the hospital.

About seven hundred of these are maimed, and the infirmities of age must now be creeping, or rather leaping on the remainder; but there is a shadowy side to every thing, and I suppose this is the shadowy side of Greenwich Hospital. If wisdom and grey hairs of necessity went together, this princely pile would be approached with reverence; but we must not expect too much of these "men of many years," for the sea is but an indifferent school for the mind and manners. The warring elements, and the rage of battle, may teach a man many things, but they are not the best instructors in the fear of the Lord, or in the humanities that should be practised among mankind.

"When looking," says one, 66 on the faces and forms of the soldiers and sailors of Chelsea and Greenwich, you would hardly regard them as the thunderbolts of war; for age robs the eye of its fire, and the body of its strength, and habits of ease impart an appearance of quietude altogether opposed to the fierceness of the stormy fight; but for all this, these are the men who