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1839.] masses of foliage between, have something majestic in their appearance; while the absence of statues, hermitages, marble temples, bronze sarcophagi, and spouting monsters, relieve the scene from that constrained and artificial appearance that attends the vast majority of parks laid out in this style.

Our continental brethren carry this adornment of their public walks to a ridiculous excess. One would imagine that such places were intended as retreats from the bustle of cities; but a stranger entering the gardens of the Tuileries, for example, so far from being solaced with the agreeable delusion of retirement, finds himself introduced into the society of marble gentlemen and ladies, dying gladiators, gold and silver fish, orange-trees stuck in green gallipots, and tritons spewing water in his face at every angle; so that he begins to feel himself altogether out of his element, and half inclined to resign the privilege of the promenade to the courtly creations of the magic pencil of Watteau, with their laced pocket-holes, clouded canes, velvet embroidery, and ruffles of Point d'Espagne. In Kensington Gardens, on the contrary, the lounger is not obliged to be so much upon his good behaviour; he can enjoy a stroll sufficiently retired for all reasonable purposes; and, if he does not object to good company, the broad walk affords good company in abundance,—literary ladies with the last new novel—cooing turtles, squeezing the last drops of ambrosia out of the expiring honeymoon—and faded old gentlemen, in sky-blue coats, virgin waistcoats, Isabella-coloured "smalls," and black gaiters, who emerge from their neat suburban villas of Kensington, Gore, and Bayswater, to take the air, and sigh for the brocaded petticoats, high-heeled shoes, hoops, and powdered toupees of half-a-century ago.

The view from the centre of this broad walk, exactly in front of the Palace, is one of the finest afforded any where in the vicinity of the metropolis. The trees, drawn up in close column like a rifle brigade of his Majesty the Emperor of Brobdignag—the vistas between, extending far away into the shady distance—the verdure of the sward, which is here more luxuriant and unbroken than in the Parks—the air of quiet and seclusion that is breathed over the scene, make it altogether superior to any thing the vicinity of towns can afford to the eye wearied with an universe of brick and mortar.

In the fashionable season, when the military bands assemble here for practice, which they usually do on every Tuesday and Friday, from four to six in the afternoon, near the bridge of the Serpentine, the concourse of fashionable people is immense—and the scene altogether of great animation. But it is time to proceed to the only remaining lobe of the Lungs of London: therefore, leaving Kensington Gardens by the Bayswater Gate, we make our way through a neighbourhood that has sprung up, like a mushroom, in one night—by the way, where or when, does any body think, will London stop?—we skirt the Great Western Railway station, enter Paddington, so to St John's Wood, and find ourselves passing through Hanover Gate to the outer circle of

This estate of the Crown was formerly the outer park attached to the royal mansion of Henry VIII. at Marylebone, which was taken down in the year 1790. It consists of 543 acres, and was granted by three Crown leases, the family of Hinds being possessed of 9-24 parts of the property for a term of years, which expired January 24th, 1806, the other 15-24ths being possessed by the Duke of Portland for a term of years, expiring January 24th, 1811.

Soon after this, the then Commissioners of Woods and Forests contemplated improvements of a more extensive kind than had originally been thought of—the long-cherished design of the Crown being to convert the Marylebone estate into a military farm, of which we find the following notice in an early number of the Gentleman's Magazine:—