Duke of Somerset in a charge of conspiring to murder John Dudley Duke of Northumberland, and executed Feb. 26, 1552. His estates, however, did not escheat; and his son Matthew (knighted by Queen Elizabeth in 1574) mentioned in the above lines, succeeded to the honour and demesne of Wardour. Little remains of the castle but an octagonal court, in which is a well profoundly deep; the other members of the building having been partly battered down by the Parliamentarian forces from the opposite hill, in the memorable siege when it was defended by the heroine Blanche, and partly destroyed on the return of her husband. A little below the castle, a banquetting-room offers an agreeable asylum in the summer-time; adapted to the scorching heat of the dog-days by windows of painted glass, and other circumstances that render it gloomy, cool, and sequestered.

The noble owner of Wardour permits carriages to pass to the turnpike by a road that runs through the park to the north of the house, and climbs up a gentle hill for a mile, affording a beautiful view of the subjacent and distant country. It then loses itself in a wood, and shortly after opens again into the public

carriage-way leading from Hindon to Salisbury, Emerging from this bed of shade, we find ourselves in a different country to what we have hitherto travelled; the beautiful down, with its velvet carpet, now swells on each side of us, and little white breaches in it evince, that we are entered upon the huge belt of chalk which crosses the kingdom from Sussex to Dorsetshire. The scenery, indeed, that it affords is not picturesque, but still may be called pleasing, The eye reposes with delight on the smoothness of its vivid verdure, and the graceful varieties of its undulating outline prevent the languor we should quickly feel, were our vision thrown over an extensive flat surface, as bare of ornament, and destitute of objects, as the Wiltshire downs are. This style of country continues for some miles, until the rich pleasure-grounds of Wilton appear, spreading themselves over the acclivity of a hill that commands the open country by which they are surrounded. A richlyornamented gate, or porter's lodge, admits the traveller to this noble mansion, the invaluable repository of many exquisite examples of ancient art. These, indeed, are so numerous, as entirely to prevent me from noticing them individually; I must, therefore, make my obser

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vations slight as well as general, and refer you for more particular information to a copious and comprehensive catalogue of the "Curiosiosities of Wilton-House," drawn up by Thomas Earl of Pembroke, assisted by Nicholas Haym, Sir Andrew Fountayne, Martin Folkes, and Doctor Pococke. The performance, as one might expect from the constellation of antiquaries engaged it, evinces much reading, and an intimate acquaintance with classical lore, and extending itself to one hundred and fifty octavo pages; but much of the interest and entertainment it might otherwise have possessed, is wanting, in consequence of the compilers confining themselves to dry mythological and historical details in their account of the statues and busts, without entering into a description of the peculiar beauties, costume, and attributes of each; the places where they were found, from whom purchased, &c. The entrance-porch exhibits the only piece of architecture now remaining, executed by Hans Holbein, who was as famous in this branch of the arts as he was in portrait painting. The whole palace, indeed, had been designed by Holbein for the first Earl of Pembroke, and afterwards erected on the scite of Wilton Abbey, granted to that nobleman by

Henry VIII. But this was consumed by fire, and the porch just mentioned the only member that escaped the flames. The injury which the mansion had sustained by conflagration, was repaired by Inigo Jones, and may be admired for the elegant and just proportions of its apartments, though not for the meubles with which they are furnished. One of the best specimens of Inigo's art is, perhaps, the gardenfront of this mansion, extending one hundred and ninety-four feet in length; which is so exquisite, as to plead an excuse for the vanity of the architect, who, returning from his travels in Italy, and aware of that absurd prejudice of the English, which always preferred foreign to native artists, changed his own Welsh christian name Ynyr, into the more captivating and melodious one of Inigo. When I tell you that the antiquities in this collection comprise the whole of those possessed by the Cardinals Richelieu and Mazarine, together with a considerable part of such as were gathered with so much industry, taste, and expence by Lord Arundel, you will not wonder at my shrinking from the task of describing them; master-pieces of ancient sculpture occur, indeed, in such profusion on every side, that the mind is over

whelmed with the variety of entertainment offered to it. But it is some consolation to an Englishman, whilst contemplating such august productions, to observe, that the skill of his own countrymen has followed with faithful imitation, and almost passibus æquis, some of the noblest of these efforts of the chissel; for though the Venus de Medici of Wilton be doubtless inferior to the matchless excellence of the Florentine original, yet it is certainly equal to many a choice antique morsel in this capital collection. Amongst a multitude of other invaluable specimens of sculpture the following may be considered, perhaps, as best deserving attention.

In the Palladian lodge, amid a groupe of busts, is the statue of Apollo, with a fragment of the lyre in his hand. Of this work the hair, the right shoulder, the side, and the back, are extremely grand.

In the centre of the vestibule a colossal statue of the same god, with modern legs and feet, and, perhaps, the right arm, from the elbow part downwards. The fleshy contours of the sides and breast attract particular notice, as well as the inimitable anatomy of the back.

The great hall exhibits a singular and incongruous mixture of precious antiquities, pieces