It is pleasant to think that a spirit is now abroad which will probably lead to the formation of museums in towns which have hitherto had nothing of the kind. On referring to the statutes passed in 1845, we shall find that one relates to the formation of museums; by enacting that "it shall be lawful for the council of any municipal borough, the population of which exceeds 10,000 persons, if such council shall think fit so to do, to purchase lands, and to erect thereon buildings suitable for museums of art and science;" and by arranging how the expenses are to be defrayed. The rate of admission is "not to exceed one penny for each person;"

but the great point will be to get rid even of this penny. It is not much, certainly; but still the penny will be found a drawback to the full development of the object in view. The question is not whether the people ought to pay it, but will they pay it? The gratuitous admission to the British Museum is a vast good; a good which an admission-fee of even one single farthing would most materially damp, by bringing a new element-a money-thought-to mingle with the thoughts which would otherwise absorb the visitor's mind. Honour to free museums!

RICHMOND has attained an enviable celebrity.Universally it is recognized as the most beautiful of English villages. The record of its loveliness is inscribed indelibly on some of the best pages of our literature. Men of all countries, of all ages, and of every rank, are attracted to it, and though they come with minds predisposed to believe that its beauty must have been overrated, that much of its charm must be due to the poetic haze which rests upon it, they are pleasantly undeceived. The exceeding gracefulness of its matchless view would have extorted admiration, though the lyre had never sounded its praise, nor the pencil essayed to represent its glory :

"Cold must he be who ever gazed

Impassive on its beauty."

But the associations, that are aroused, do very much heighten the delight with which it is contemplated. Scarcely more do the manifold beauties of that 'glorious prospect'-the broad sweep of the Thames, here truly the silver Thames—the vast sea of verdure,' as Scott well calls it-the shifting colours of the landscape, which borrows almost as much of its hue as of its light and shadow from the varying sky,—the aërial tints of the distant hills-scarcely more exquisite is the pleasure which these and a thousand other beauties excite, than that which arises from the associations that crowd upon the memory as the eye rests in succession upon objects and places dignified by their connection with eminent names,—the distant towers of Windsorthe long avenues that indicate while they conceal the proud palace of the 'king-cardinal'-and the houses rendered classic, as the abodes of men renowned in the literature of our country. And not least is the pleasure excited by the recollection of those who have imparted a new lustre to this scene in many a bright leaf of English poetry, and on many a glowing canvas. Nor does Richmond itself lack objects of interest, to which are attached associations that add to the loveliness of the place. Such are the remains, slight but valuable, of the royal palace wherein many of our monarchs have dwelt, and some of the greatest of them have died, the Green, the theatre of brilliant tournaments at which kings were spectators and sometimes combatants-the dwellings of poets and painters-and the church, under whose shadow repose many whose will not soon die.

names

On an ordinary dull day, Richmond wears a quiet, genteel, indeed somewhat lordly air; but with the sunshine it brightens into gaiety; and on a fine holiday, or, in fact, on any clear summer's day, the streets and terraces are crowded with cheerful visitors and all goes merry as a marriage bell.' Beautiful as it always is, then its beauty is increased infinitely. The reflection of so many happy faces adds a fresh charm to every thing around:

"What pleasing seemed For them, now pleases more."

Numerous as have always been the visitors to this queen of holiday resorts, the number will probably in the coming seasons be largely increased. The facility afforded by the construction of the Richmond railway for passing to and fro, and the celerity as well as certainty with which the journey is performed, induces many to visit Richmond who would not otherwise think of doing so; and, of course, when the extension, which is in rapid progress, is completed from the present somewhat inconvenient London terminus at Nine-Elms to Waterloo bridge, the advantages will be considerably greater. And this is a circumstance much to be rejoiced at. The fact of being transported in half-an-hour, and at a trifling cost, from the heart of London to one of the very loveliest spots in England, is surely a thing that every one who either delights in the beauties of Nature himself, or desires that others should enjoy them, may well regard as a real boon to the denizens of the mighty but smoky metropolis.

And yet we should a great deal regret if the completion of the railway were to cause the steam-boats to be discontinued. The old excursion to Richmond was itself so delightful a prelude to the richer enjoyments of the place-was so unlike and superior to every other excursion from London-that we should feel the loss of it to be no small evil. It was a journey almost every one enjoyed neither the length of the way, nor the time spent in the course of it, drew a complaint from the most impatient—at least in the outward voyage. Returning, it was sometimes otherwise. The captain would wait till daylight or tide was so far run out that discomfort was frequent, and mishaps would occasionally occur. The boat would ground on a shallow; or some of the passengers would have become too much exhilarated by the pleasant sights and good fare of Richmond; or the moist air would strike a chill that would (at least in the minds of anxious mammas) raise dread visions of

"Hectic cough,
Aches, stitches-all the various ills
That swell the plaguy doctors' bills,
And sweep poor mortals off!"

when not even the waltzes and polkas and countrydances, that the fairer and younger part of the company were wont to prosecute so eagerly, nor the dulcet strains from harp and fiddle, would avail to secure harmony or drown complainings. But matters are better regulated now. There are boats which return to London at an early hour of the afternoon, and then, as the westering sun gilds the hills and woods and towers with the richest light, to drop down through the noble bridges of the great city, while the cross of St. Paul's shines like a star, is indeed a thing to be remembered. But those who fear the evening haze on the river, will do well to start by an early steamer; see, in the clear morning light, the various phases of the Thames, as the boat glides easily and steadily, from the forest of

"My lord, having license of the king to repair and remove to Richmond, made haste to prepare him thitherward; and so he came and lodged [should it not be to the lodge?] within the great park there, which was a very pretty house and a neat, lacking no necessary rooms that to so small a house was convenient and necessary; where was to the same a very proper garden garnished with divers pleasant walks and alleys. My lord continued in this lodge from the time that he came thither, shortly after Candlemas, until it was Lent, with a privy number of servants, because of the smallness of the house; and the rest of his family went to board wages. . . . . My lord then in the beginning of Lent [removed] out of the lodge into the Charter-House of Richmond, where he lay in a lodging, which Dean Colet, sometime dean of Paul's, had made for himself, until he removed northward, which was in the passion week after; and he had to the same house a secret gallery, which went out of his chamber into the Charter-house church, whither he resorted every day to their service; and at afternoon he would sit in contemplations with one or other of the most ancient fathers of that house in his cell, who, among them by their counsel, persuaded him from the vain glory of this world, and gave him divers shirts of hair, the which he often wore afterward, whereof I am certain. And thus he continued for the time of his abode there in godly contemplation." (Cavendish's Life of Wolsey, i. 232, 237; Singer's ed.)

For awhile, during the gloomy reign of her sister, Elizabeth was a prisoner in the palace of Richmond, but she also inhabited it when queen, and on several occasions entertained foreign magnates in it. Towards the end of her life she seems to have been a good deal here, and to have spent her days somewhat merrily: John Stanhope, one of the gentlemen of the Privy Chamber, in the postscript of a letter to Lord Talbot, dated from Richmond, 22nd of December, 1589, (Lodge's Illustrations, ii. 411,) says, "My Lord, the Queen is so well as, I assure you, six or seven galliards in a morning, besides music and singing, is her ordinary exercise." And Lysons tells us that it was here, some seven years later, that Anthony Rudd, bishop of St. David's, incurred her serious displeasure by preaching a sermon before herself and court on the infirmities of age; in the course of which he noticed how " age had furrowed her face, and besprinkled her hair with its meal"-a somewhat perilous allusion, as the preacher might have known. Perhaps he would have been more scrupulous had he heard of her advice to the painter, "not to make any shadows in her face." Here, too, on the 24th of March, 1603, occurred the deathbed scene that all our historians have related so fully, when she sturdily protested she would have "no rascal" to succeed her-by which protestation her ministers

With the politic Queen the glory of Richmond manor departed. True, indeed, her successor visited it; on one or two occasions when the plague raged in London, the law courts were removed here; and Charles I. not only sometimes resided at Richmond, but also added a collection of pictures to the palace; but the royal visits became few and transient. After the ascendancy of the Parliament, the palace was by their orders prepared for the reception of the fallen monarch, but he refused to remove to it. Soon afterwards a survey was made of it by Parliamentary Commissioners, who valued the materials at £10,782 19s. 2d. The palace was now probably in a great measure dismantled, as Fuller, writing about 1660, speaks of it in his Worthies,' as "a building much beholden to Mr. Speed's representing it in his map of this county (Surrey). Otherwise (being now plucked down) the form and fashion thereof had for the future been forgotten." But the building was not entirely plucked down; for at the Restoration, some part was in a sufficiently perfect state to be appropriated to the use of the widow of Charles I., who continued to reside in it till 1665; but there can be little doubt that it was in a dilapidated condition, and probably the greater part was plucked down.

Of this splendid pile a little, and but a little, is yet left. The site is almost entirely covered with modern dwelling-houses, but a vestige of the palace remains. The visitor will see on the west side of Richmond Green a rude-looking stone gateway, above the arch of which is an escutcheon containing the arms and supporters of Henry VII., so much defaced, however, as scarcely to be decipherable. Passing through this gateway, he will then observe on his left hand a building, consisting of some apartments, and a turret, constructed of red brick with stone dressings and battlements. They have suffered somewhat from time, but more from the alterations necessary to adapt them to the requirements of a modern dwelling-house. There is nothing now observable in these rooms, which are small, and have all undergone alteration. According to the local tradition, the room over the gate is that in which the Countess of Nottingham died, after the interview with Elizabeth in which she confessed to having kept back the ring which Essex, when under sentence of death, had intrusted to her to deliver to the Queen. (Cut, No. 3.)

Close by this building, but excluded from public gaze, is another relic of the old palace, a yew tree, which was set down by the Commissioners as being of the value of ten pounds; so that two centuries ago it must have been of considerable size. The Report says, "In the middle of the Privy Garden is a round knot divided into four quarters, edged with box for flowers; in the centre of which is a fair yew tree:" it now stands in the garden of the house occupied by Dr. Julius. It is very large, and of most symmetrical form

very rarely indeed is a yew of this size seen in so perfect a state-and it is still in vigorous health, throw