If, reader, pausing on the hallowed ground, you feel inclined to think of the past, remember that beneath you sleep many English statesmen,—Clarendon, the great Lord Chatham, Pitt, Fox, and Canning; that there “The mighty chiefs sleep side by side. Drop upon Fox’s grave the tear, ’Twill trickle to his rival’s bier.” Remember that— “Bacon there Gives more than female beauty to a stone, And Chatham, eloquence to marble life;” that of poets; Chaucer, Spenser, Ben Jonson, Dryden, Congreve, Addison, Sheridan, and Campbell, and others, there await the sound of the last trumpet; that old Sam Johnson there finds rest; that there the brain of a Newton has crumbled into dust; and, as if to shew that all distinctions are levelled by death, Mrs. Oldfield, Mrs. Bracegirdle, and other favourites of the stage, are buried there. As a burial place Westminster Abbey resembles the world. We jostle one another precisely so in real life. “The age is grown so picked, that the toe of the peasant comes so near the heel of the courtier, he galls his kibe.” CHAPTER VII. LONDON CHARITIES. When Guizot visited London the principal thing that struck him was the nature and the extent of London Charities. Undoubtedly the English are a more charitable people than the French. When the ruinously low prices of the Funds forbade a loan, the loyalty-loan brought forth the name of a Lancashire cotton-spinner, the father of the lamented statesman, Sir Robert Peel, who subscribed £60,000; and when George the Third sent the Minister Pitt to compliment him on this truly loyal and patriotic subscription, he simply replied that another £60,000 would be forthcoming if it was wanted for the defence of the country. Did Napoleon, or any French monarch, ever possess such a patriotic subject? The spirit is still the same. What sums the nation subscribed for the relief of the wives and widows and orphans of the Crimean heroes. What an amount was raised at once for the victims of the Indian mutiny. An Englishman likes to make money, and makes many a sacrifice to do it; but then how lavishly and with what a princely hand he gives it. And in this respect the Londoner is a thorough Englishman—his charity covers a multitude of sins. I am aware some of this charity is of a doubtful character. A draper, for instance, may subscribe to the funds—of such an institution as that for early closing—a very handsome sum, merely as a good business advertisement; other tradesmen may and undoubtedly do the same. There is also a spirit of rivalry in these matters—if Smith saw Jones’ name down for £50, he, thinking he was as good as Smith any day, and perhaps a good deal better, puts his name down for £100. Somehow or other we can scarce do good things without introducing a little of the alloy of poor human nature; but London charities undoubtedly cover a multitude of sins.