That place also is full of memories. There it was that the famous Duke of Buckingham fought his no less famous duel with Lord Shrewsbury, while the fair countess, dressed, rather than disguised, as a page, held the horse of her victorious paramour. We loved to gaze on that princely mansion--since a second time burnt down--repeating to each other the marvelous lines in which our two matchless satirists have immortalized the duke's follies, and doubting which portrait were the best. We may at least be sure that no third painter will excel them. Alas! who reads Pope or Dryden now? I am afraid, very much afraid, that to many a fair young reader these celebrated characters will be as good as manuscript. I will at all events try the experiment. Here they be: "In the first rank of these did Zimri stand A man so various, that he seemed to be Not one, but all mankind's epitome; Stiff in opinions, always in the wrong, Was every thing by starts and nothing long; But in the course of one revolving moon, Was chemist, fiddler, statesman, and buffoon, Then all for women, painting, rhyming, drinking Besides ten thousand freaks that died in thinking. Blest madman, who could every hour employ With something new to wish or to enjoy!" DRYDEN. _Absalom and Achitophel._ Now for the little hunchback of Twickenham: "In the worst inn's worst room, with mat half hung, The walls of plaster, and the floor of dung; On once a flock-bed, but repaired with straw, With tape-tied curtains never meant to draw, The George and Garter dangling from that bed, Where tawdry yellow strove with dirty red: Great Villiers lies:--but, ah, how changed from him, That life of pleasure, and that soul of whim, Gallant and gay in Cliefden's proud alcove, The bower of wanton Shrewsbury and love! Or just as gay at council 'mid the ring Of mimic statesmen and their merry king! No wit to flatter left of all his store; No fool to laugh at, which he valued more; There, victor of his health, of fortune, friends And fame, the lord of useless thousands ends?" POPE. _Moral Essays._ FLOWERS IN THE SICK ROOM.