interests the mind; no productions of the arts, unless indeed the labours of the gilder and upholsterer may be considered as deserving that character. Rich hangings and fine furniture may catch the gaze and captivate the fancy of the multitude, but taste and sensibility require some other food, and turn away with satiety from the glitter of golden cornices and the lustre of satin hangings. They will be more gratified in visiting the little ancient church, uniform and neat, half embosomed in a clump of trees in the park, and containing six table monuments, each crowned with two cumbent figures.—Here we find the upright Judge, Sir William Gascoigne, chief justice of the Court of King's-Bench, whose spirited conduct in refusing to obey the commands of Henry IV. and bring Archbishop Scroop to trial for treason, and whose coolness and intrepidity in committing the Prince of Wales to prison for interrupting the regular course of justice, are well authenticated in the early chronicles, and highly deserving our admiration. The last fact has been admirably worked up by Shakespeare in the second part of Henry IV.; where he not only pourtrays the virtuous independency of the Judge, but exhibits, in striking colours, the wisdom of a Prince, who loved the law, and was content to rule within its bounds.