between its flank and the orchard that overtopped the river wall. Well!
it is gone. I blame nobody. I suppose it was quite rotten, and that the
rats would soon have thrown up their lease of it; and that it was taken
down, in short, chiefly, as one of the players said of 'Old Drury,' to
prevent the inconvenience of its coming down of itself. Still a peevish
but harmless old fellow--who hates change, and would wish things to stay
as they were just a little, till his own great change comes; who haunts
the places where his childhood was passed, and reverences the homeliest
relics of by-gone generations--may be allowed to grumble a little at the
impertinences of improving proprietors with a taste for accurate
parallelograms and pale new brick.

Then there was the village church, with its tower dark and rustling from
base to summit, with thick piled, bowering ivy. The royal arms cut in
bold relief in the broad stone over the porch--where, pray, is that
stone now, the memento of its old viceregal dignity? Where is the
elevated pew, where many a lord lieutenant, in point, and gold lace, and
thunder-cloud periwig, sate in awful isolation, and listened to orthodox
and loyal sermons, and took French rappee; whence too, he stepped forth
between the files of the guard of honour of the Royal Irish Artillery
from the barrack over the way, in their courtly uniform, white, scarlet,
and blue, cocked hats, and cues, and ruffles, presenting arms--into his
emblazoned coach and six, with hanging footmen, as wonderful as
Cinderella's, and out-riders out-blazing the liveries of the troops, and
rolling grandly away in sunshine and dust.

The 'Ecclesiastical Commissioners' have done their office here. The
tower, indeed, remains, with half its antique growth of ivy gone; but
the body of the church is new, and I, and perhaps an elderly fellow or
two more, miss the old-fashioned square pews, distributed by a