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Bereienr fot Dricions gn Lthrartan Wetarpara Joykcishus Pubtie Librasy Govt. of West Benga) s . S PLEBEJANS AND PATRICIANS CHAPTER I. THE PLEBEIANS 1N LONDON—WESTMINSTER ABBEY—~ sT. PAUL'S. ‘ “Stones and mortar.” Grave.digger. None of our public buildings have somany claims fo the regard of the antiquar'y, the historian, the t, the painter, the enthusiast or (he architect, as ‘estmmnster Abbey—there are about ita multitude of existing realities, calculated alike to awaken and atify curiosity, and to call into play many of the igher emotions of the human heart. The dust of the noble by birth, and of the still higher order of nobility—that of wntellect and worth, rests within its precincts, and we know of no better school of morals than its epitaphs and monuments—and of no sterner teacher than the memories linked with them. To the thinking mind, indeed, the floor and walls of Westminster Abbey ate as a book writ- ten within and without, but to the many led there by idle curiosity its inspection is the mere gazing at a reliqué, without the feeling and enthusiaam of a devotee. 4 He thot hath light wit js own clear broast, May sit in the contre and bright day ; But he that hides a dark a foul thoughts, Benighted walke under the lay sun, Himself in hia own dangeon.” The Manfords had not the “ inward light,” and eir visit to the Abbey did not afford thera any ecu gratification. They were especially sifocked to find such great people buried in a flat place—not near so comfortable, they declared, as « Shawton Chapel Yard."—-Then again the ladies were ashamed at the sight of the marble figures.” Bless me !” said one, “ only just look there, a man without clothes, good Jord! what impudence.” “ Aye,” said another, “it makes me blush, and there sec, three women—what figures to be sure, they’re not a bit like one’s self. . «No, that they’re not,—~however could any body be taken that way—it’s abominable.” “Qh dear!” said the countess, “it’s very cold and chilling, ’d rather by half be shopping; its enough to frighten one to be among sc many dead people, with their figures stuck up against the wall all over white, just like so many ghosts, I would not walk here at night for a world of money.” “Good Lord, Helen ! thee quite frightens one— do let us go,” said the mother, “J canna think, what in the world folks make such a fuss about Westminster Abbey for, it's mighty dismal.” At this moment they were passing through the gloomy porch leading to Henry the Seventh’s chapel. Jf any sight can stir the human heart it is entering this magnificent chapel, when a flood of light is shed upon its various decorations ;—the contrast, from the almost awful darkness of the entrance, to the dazzling brilliance of the interior, is difficult, nay impossible to describe. It pro- AND PATRICIANS. © 5 duced some effect upon the primitive manufac- torers,—as Mrs. Manford said— « Well, now, this looks comfortable like ;—do let us rest a bit—good lorjus! who’s buried in this fine lace 7” William, the footman, who acted as cicerone, infornied her, that a grand king, called Henry the seventh, and his queen, were underneath the tomb- stone. This called the educated young ladies into play, “as surely,” remarked the uneducated scni- ors, “their schooling must ha’ taught them some- thing of a king who had built such a grand place, only for to be buried in.” A lengthened, but by no means accurate detail was accordingly given by the juniors, who constantly appealed to William as to the accuracy of their historical data, Mrs. Manford choosing to doubt the whole affair; round- ly asserting, that to talk about “red roses,” and “white roses,” was sheer nonsense. « Because,” she sagely reasoned, “red roses and white roses are nothing but flowers; we ha hun- dreds of ‘em in our shrubbery, and kings and queens are men and women, only you see they wear crowns, and every body is under ’em; and what has roses to do with men and women I should like to know?” “Oh, you see, mother, you don’t know any thing about it. We were taught it all at Mrs. Marshall's; and I very well remember reading, that in this very chapel the “red and white roses” were buried,—arn’t they William ?” « Yes, ma’am—most certainly,” answered Wil- liam. “ Aye, well,” said her mother. “that may be— but then it was only a kind of a nickname—just as we call Jem Dobs, ‘Old Leather.’ Now isn’t that the way of it, William ?” - © Yes, ma’am, most certainly.” ye