Many of the epitaphs are of a ludicrous description, combining the ridiculous with the sublime. On one stone thou mayest trace the following lines:-

"Here lies the bodie of Jackson Brown,
Lost at sea, but never found."

"Here lies poor old Ned,

If it had'nt been for Capt. G-
He'd been dead."

And again, not far from the church door:

"Beneath this stone lie two lovely babies dear;

One was buried in Cheriton church-yard and tother here."

At the corner of the north wall, a stone, erected to the memory of Rebecca Rogers, records the following epitaph:

"A house she hath, it's made of such good fashion,
The Tenant ne'er shall pay for Reparation;
Nor will her Landlord ever raise her rent,
Or turn her out of doors for non-payment;
From Chimney Money too this Cell is free;
To such a house who would not Tenant be."

Whilst upon another stone is engraved :

"She was-but words are wanting to say what-
Think what a good mother should be, she was not."

Within the old church many are the traces of its Norman origin. Its stone seats, cross-beams, and Norman porch, peep out amid the barbarous admixtures of whitewash and incongruous improvement, showing the utter incompetency and ignorance of its modern restorers. Dedicated to St. Mary and St. Eanswith, with its nave and chancel, both flanked with aisles and all under separate gables*; its beaconturret, and musical peal of eight bells, it has withstood the hand of time for many a century. A singular feature of these said bells, and one worth recording, is that each bell hath a coronal of verse marked upon its side, in raised Roman letter.

Round the treble is embossed:

Although I am both light and small,
I will be heard above you all.

The second:

I mean to make it understood,

That tho' I'm little, yet I'm good.

The nave and its aisles have been barbarously truncated of their western portions; a misfortune not fully compensated for in the eyes of the ecclesiologist by the beautiful specimens of first pointed detail in the eastern portion of the church, and is certainly not atoned for by the shabby deal seats inserted in a modern restoration.

Thou wilt also find various and unique specimens of brass tombs, and singular epitaphs within the church; such as

Here lieth the Body of
JOHN CLOKE,

Son of Basil and Mary Cloke.
Died Sept. 28th day, 1675.
Aged 21 years.

John is buried here, wrapt in his cloke;
It now becomes his night's gowne, as its scene
It is ye selfe same culler, blew and green;

He was a husbandman his Father's land to till,
Himself he left not out, but did their minds fulfil.

Near the above mayest likewise be seen a noble monument, with the following:

"Here rests in ye Lord, John Prageil, Esq. 4 times Maior of this Towne-16 yeare Leivt of His Maities Castle of Sandgate in the liberty of this Corporation-who dyed in his Mayoralty Novr. 1, 1676. Aged 73 years.

"A Batchelor, and left behind him only one brother, Mr. Clement Prageil Ivrate, his heire, who in his piovs remembrance erected this Tombe."

Vnderneath this stone intomb'd doth Iye
The Rep'senter of Maiestie.

Death is Impartiall, a bold Sergeant He
T'arrest a Ports man in his Mayoraltie,

A magistrate vpright and truly just,

Once here Chiefe Ruler, also now tvrned dvst;
Bvt here is his glory. It is but a remove

From this Fraill earth to be enthron'd above.

Reader, thou must have had enough of such productions as the archives of the town and the tombstones of the dead afford, and art weary of the very name of Folkstone; yet would I claim thy patience for a second longer, to tell thee that from a native of the said town emanated one of the most important discoveries of modern science. Dr. William Harvey, the discoverer of the Circulation of the Blood,

first drew breath in Folkestone; and it is to him that we are indebted for that small germ of information which afterwards bore such goodly fruit in the unravelling of disease and the alleviation of suffering.

Should'st thou, on the other hand desire to know more of "Old Folkesteen," and its antiquated inhabitants, then, in visiting the place, bear in mind that there are two things needful for thy comfort. First-put up at the Pavilion Hostellerie (The Pavilion Hotel); and second-purchase Stock's Illustrated Hand-Book of Folkestone, from the pages of which we have largely culled, whilst throwing together these hasty lines on "Old Folkestone.”

There are now amongst the inhabitants of Folkstone 140 persons whose respective ages range between 101 and 62. The writer has collected, with much trouble, the following data.

WE shall never hear the end of Russia and the Russians, Czars and enchikoffs of some genus or other, Russian vices and Russian villanies, "Russian snows and Russian climates, Russian tyranny and Russian slaves; and at last even the column of horrors in the world of newspapers has been invaded by a Russian rival, and the slow murder of thousands of Englishmen on the heights of the Crimea has eclipsed all other atrocities of the day, and sent throughout Europe a cry of shame and woe as sadly terrible as even the barbarity of a Russian Czar could desire.

In this state of things, as might be expected, every one possessed of pen, ink, and a sheet of paper, has rushed furiously into print, touching "all the Russias." We have books, pamphlets, odes, biographies, reminiscences, and travels; all smelling of Russian names, if not leather. Ladies, young, old, and middle aged, have ventured on Russia; gentlemen, of every age, any or no profession, have thought it a safe subject. We have had as many scribes as readers; the former being, however, the better satisfied of the two classes.

The Last Days of Alexander, and the first Days of Nicholas. By Robert Lee, M.D., F.R.S. Second edition, 1854.

Amid such a library of chaff, a few grains of wheat are of course to be found. If ten thousand noodles write ten thousand octavos, for other ten thousand noodles to buy and attempt reading, at length one wise man dips his pen in ink, that something may really be said on the subject. This is pretty much our case at present. Noodles of both genders have printed again and again to their hearts' content, and their pockets' discontent; and in due time, as the series progressed, a few sensible people have had their say, and, as a matter of course, hearers have not been wanting. Of these few, Dr. Robert Lee is one, who, in a simple, yet clear and masterly manner, has told us what he knew of the two worthies, Alexander and Nicholas, and, with his tale, given us much pleasure in the reading. His little volume is full of interest and good sense. We have no intention, even if we had space, to prevent our readers from purchasing and reading the book for themselves, and shall not therefore adorn our pages with its choicest extracts, by way of specimen. Nevertheless, we wish to say a word or two, before we part, of the pleasure that awaits them in Dr. Lee's pages. On the 5th of November, 1824, Dr. Lee left England for Odessa, where he became Physician to His Excellency Count Woronzow. Of his journey up the Rhine, and the great inundation of St. Petersburg, we speak not; nor how he passed through, and pitied, Poland, with her towns and villages of ignorance, filth and misery, towards Odessa. But a scrap from his diary, 1825, is worthy of note, if only as a proof of his discernment in even then foreseeing the crafty designs of the Russian Autocrat. "At present," he says, "I do not believe, from the different conversations I have had with Russians here, that their ambition is directed so much to India as to Turkey. Their attention was riveted on Turkey, and they consider England as the only power exerting an overwhelming influence against their schemes; and when they can find occasion, with safety to themselves, I have no doubt we shall find them our bitter enemies."—p. 14.

How fully the Doctor's surmise has come to pass, we now, to our cost, know full well; they have seized what they thought a safe occasion to pounce on poor Turkey-a morsel they have, however, long since found too hot to hold. If the Barbarians are sufficiently civilized to feel heat, as well as cold, let us hope that ere long their plunder will indeed burn their fingers.

In May, 1825, the Count and his Doctor sailed for the Crimea, the climate and resources of which are handled in as masterly a way as the designs of the Russian despot. Oddly enough, in the course of their travels over the waters of the Black Sea, they touched at Balaclava Bay; near which they found villages suffering terribly from fever, in an atmosphere poisoned by noxious exhalations. And then follows a paragraph which but a few months since might, if

duly heeded, have saved the lives of thousands of brave Englishmen. "The whole population of the Crimea, between the mountains and the sea, were in a sickly condition."—p. 21.

"I saw and treated more than a hundred cases of intermittent and remittent fever." And again: "Almost all of us had suffered from malaria."-p. 22.

Their visit to the Crimea was chiefly undertaken for the purpose of preparing for the visit of the Emperor Alexander; with whom Dr. Lee, Sir James Wylie, and one or two others, had the honor of dining, on "the last day he was destined to enjoy❞—we suppose our author means in the Crimea, as the Emperor lived for some days after this. But his last illness was both rapid and sudden; a catarrh quickly assumed the form of intermittent fever, for which, although the symptoms soon became severe, the royal patient refused to be doctored. He persisted in rejecting all medical treatment, in fact, until he was beyond the reach of mortal aid. But Czars are mortal, after all, as well as serfs: though the proud sway of Alexander and the iron will of his successor appeared to scorn the hand of Him who knows no distinction between the hut of the peasant and the palace of the king.

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It is now well known that, on the death of Alexander, A.D. 1825, Constantine, the heir to the throne, of his own free will waived his title in favour of Nicholas, his younger brother. The very first actions of Nicholas, at this crisis, distinctly mark two prominent features in the character of the future despot,-his dissimulation and his fierce courage. He refused to believe in his brother's abdication, or to act on it, although well aware of the fact before the death of Alexander. The troops at St. Petersburg were ordered to swear allegiance to Constantine; and when they afterwards refused to swear fealty to himself, he boldly ventured among them in person; and, finding reason ineffectual in convincing them of their duty, gently enforced his arguments with a park of artillery, which soon drove the rebels to listen to, and obey, him. Thus, with iron hand, did the late tyrant crush the very first symptoms of awakening life or exertion of will among his slaves. "The Emperor Nicholas," prophecies Dr. Lee-and shrewdly too-"will either be a tyrant or a coward." (p. 69). 1825. We much doubt if he were not both. True bravery of soul and spirit cannot tyrannize; and the brutal ferocity of a bear may coexist with cowardice of heart. Intense selfishness may force even a coward to make desperate efforts at a crisis involving life and death. And if to selfishness we add hardness of heart, pride and ambition, we have qualities that hesitate at no deed of cruelty, craft, or falsehood which are demanded as necessary to the well-being of their possessor. Such was Nicholas of Russia. His whole life was one long series of crises. He was ever making desperate and