which he himself had prepared for them in the eastern corner of St. Helen's Church, on the 15th of December, 1579. Until the year 1736 it bore no inscription; and Pennant observes, that so great a name needed not the proclamation of an epitaph.' Nevertheless, we think those did wisely who, copying the following words from the parish register, caused them to be engraved on black marble, and inserted on the top of the tomb.

Sr THOMAS GRESHAM, Knight,
Buryd Decembr the 15th 1579.

The rest of the monument which covers the ashes of a man whose reputation is not confined to England, is of richly wrought alabaster, sculptured on every side with the armorial bearings of Gresham, the escutcheons on the north-eastern and south-eastern sides impaling Fernely. Its very incongruity and quaintness render this venerable church a fitting restingplace for the right noble citizen. And it would be well if our modern. 'millionaires,' reviewing their own deeds beside the tomb of this Merchant Prince,'-surrounded as it is by quaint records of his former friends and neighbours; men not only remarkable in their time, but who have left more enduring traces of themselves than tombs of brass and stone-would remember that,

'when our souls shall leave this dwelling,
The glory of one fair and virtuous action
Is above all the 'scutcheons on our tomb,
Or silken banners over us!'

The progress of the millionaires' of these later days has been rendered remarkable by the multitudes whom vain speculations have urged on to ruin. The good that has been done has sprung literally from the people; 'here, from an humble individual founding a Charity by the power and goodness of his own mind-there, by an Institute commenced and supported by simple-minded men zealous for improvement. Again, as in the case of the 'Savings Banks,' by a woman,* eager to accumulate and protect property for those whose wealth, if it grows, must grow from small savings :—as in the Temperance Reformation,' from the labours of an humble priest; or, as in the Shelter for Foundlings,' by the efforts of a rough sea-captain; or,

Priscilla Wakefield.

as in the Benevolent Fund,' by the exertions of a poor miniature-painter. The list might be so prolonged as to include almost all the great and true Charities of modern days; while the best of our flourishing Institutions may for the most part be traced to sources equally obscure, and, to all human seeming, powerless. It is too generally the curse of our age to plant money that we may grow money; not with a hallowed memory of the Divine injunction

"To do good and to distribute, forget not; for with such sacrifices God is well pleased!' but for that power which rarely or never worketh contentment; and is not unfrequently associated with a terrible shadow that parts not-even at the brink of the grave.

If biography be History teaching by Example,' that of the great and good Sir Thomas Gresham may not be lost in this Utilitarian Age; how many even now, two centuries and a half after his death, are nourished by the corn he garnered !

THE TOMB OF THOMAS GRAY.

HE view from the Royal Terrace at Windsor is one of such surpassing beauty, that the longer we gaze the more we appreciate its variety, its luxurious richness, and its vast extent. It is in truth a glorious landscape, unrivalled in Europe. Well may the Sovereign who, day by day, looks The smiling villages, the spired knight and squire,' the stately variegated parks, the noble forest

over such a scene, be proud thereof! churches, the embowered dwellings of mansions, the wide spreading lawns, the sheltering beneath its foliage the tributary strangers of distant lands-the stately avenue, the noble river upon whose banks the

'antique towers,

That crown the watery glade,'

nurture, within time-honoured walls, the future leaders of the senate and the field-under the very shadows of the Royal pile they thus learn to reverence with all the deep devotion of English hearts, and to defend as much by wisdom as by the dauntless bravery that carries Englishmen triumphant through the world :

"From the stately brow

Of Windsor's heights, th' expanse below

Of grove, of lawn, of mead, survey!'

No foreigner should be permitted to leave England without spending a long day at Windsor, and it should not be the first, but the last of his

Island excursions, inasmuch as it is the radiant crown of our English sights. It is, indeed, delicious to stand upon that noble terrace, and behold, near and far, the ancient glories which time has consecrated, scattered among woods and fields, rich in beauty and fertile of productive wealth. From that exalted position it is impossible to imagine anything in nature more surpassingly beautiful than the wide range of country within ken; and if read (who is not ?) in the history of the past, how peopled it becomes with glorious memories, with pageants and tournays, with accidents and incidents, with great struggles too between arbitrary power and a people who would be, and are, free-the only really free people at this time of writing, in broad Europe. But it is not well to withdraw from the terrace and believe you have seen Windsor. You must leave the stately apartments, the carvings, the paintings, the sculpture, the tapestry, the corridor, the chambers-where, in the sanctity of private life, the Lady whom we honour both from duty and affection, reigns paramount as woman, as fully as queen :-you must turn from the cups of Benvenuto Cellini, and forget the vase that graced the Spanish Armada, and the golden salvers, and relics of old times ;-you must look your last at the banners in St. George's Chapel, while you remember that the pavement you have trod covers the mouldering dust of kings ;you must not, if your time be limited, listen a moment longer to the tones of that unrivalled organ, pealing to the fretted roof: but away-not direct to the Long Walk-but through the ugly and straggling Clewer Greennot gazing back until after passing the pretty lodge gate at St. Leonard's, and entering the domain, you look up at the stately castle from the lowland you are about to leave. The foreground is such as Cuyp has painted, and as Sidney Cooper can paint still, especially if the sun is preparing to set, and

'The lowing herd winds slowly o'er the lea;'

the meadows have that soft green 'plashy' look which refreshes eyes aching from the effects of the rich and gorgeous palace; each a study— the whole a picture. Above sits the castle, the fine grey stone-work standing out against the sky, whose deep blue is fading, so as to harmonise all the better with the colour of the noble pile; and from this point of view the objectionable parts of the town, which sometimes interfere with

the dignity of the palace, are not visible; yet you must not tarry there, but proceed-still on still refreshing your eyes with the shady dells of deep copses that stretch to the right and left of your wooded way. Pause again, a moment, on the brow of St. Leonard's Hill before you are in sight of the entrance to the dwelling, and fail not to look down upon the valley, with Maidenhead in the distance. Keep the high-road, which either ancient right, or the liberality of the proprietor, permits you to do, until you reach the Queen's highway, leading past Forest Hill and Prince Albert's farm, to Wingfield; cross it, and pass through a gate, and then, for the time being, you are as free of Windsor Forest as the red deer, or the white goats, or the wild buffaloes who enjoy its full freedom with you. For some time your road conducts you through a copse of young oaks, stretching on both sides as far as you can see over ever-waving ferns, affording cover rather than food to the pheasants, who gaze at you with starry eyes, and hardly deign to rise at your approach. Here and there fitting respect has been shown to some ancient oaks that have withstood the storms of centuries :-space has been cleared around them; several are perfectly hollow, others gnarled and rugged ;—such fine studies for the pencil, that we expected to see an artist start from the wood, fully equipped for service. Presently you perceive to the left an open prairie always spotted with deer, and then, leaving the close wood behind, you pass another royal lodge, on lofty ground; then on to Queen Anne's green drive; there pause, and see how the castle bursts upon you in full magnificence. We know nothing more glorious than to view it when the sun is setting, the heavens flooded with tints of amber, and of rose: the castle, from its commanding seat, looking the more cold, and grand and dark, when contrasted with the brightness of the sky, while here. and there some tree or mound seems adopted by the heavens, and steeped in its own splendour. The road leads on to where a group of noble beeches overshadows the way; the forest land breaks down into a glade, and, far beyond it, again rises the castle. But that is not all: you must pause at the statue of the third George, and look along the three mile drive, terminated by the castle entrance; this view gives you only the entrance, seeming more like the erection of a fairy tale, than a reality; but it is a wonderful lesson in perspective. It is matter of regret that the