[2] Few are aware of the number of these mediæval obstructions, of which there are some 250 in London. “In most parishes there are two or three; in some the number reaches thirty or forty. The whole metropolitan area is dotted with them. There are nine in Marylebone; thirty in St. Pancras, principally on the Camden Estate and Crown property. St. George’s, Hanover Square, has a dozen; St. Mary, Islington, twenty; St. Giles’s, Camberwell, sixteen. There are four each in St. James and St. John, Clerkenwell, in Chelsea, and in Woolwich. Paddington has five; but the number increases, sometimes by leaps and bounds, until we reach such totals as 27 for Wandsworth, 28 for Lewisham, and 36 for Fulham. Poplar has only one, but it reconciles the deficiency to its self-respect by levying a toll. The privilege of shutting out vehicles is highly prized in some parts of St. Pancras, and highly paid for. It makes a substantial addition to the rent, and it constitutes a sort of permanent charge on the rates, in the form of payment on the original cost of the roads.” [3] Of the wealth of the late Earl an incidental proof carelessly escaped on the occasion of the fire at Cortachy Castle, when it was stated that his lordship had brought sixty servants and some four or five thousand pounds’ worth of furniture for this summer excursion, just as an ordinary family would take a few articles to complete the furnishing of a house taken at the seaside! Further, it was mentioned that fifty sovereigns belonging to her ladyship were saved; they had been left on her table just as “the gentle reader” himself might leave some pence on the chimney-piece. [4] But, as I write, this memorial is being removed, and the whole façade is being cased with stone. [5] Lately died Selby, the Liston-faced coachman, with his low-crowned hat, who drove to Brighton and back in the surprisingly short time of seven hours 51 minutes, for a wager. His funeral was an extraordinary spectacle, followed by more than a score of coaches, laden with wreaths, and driven by “the fancy.” This recalls the interment of “Tom Moody.” [6] Mr. Dickens used to relate how, at one of his last dinners when in this senile state, the servant, who had the whole _répertoire_ by heart, would suggest and prompt. “Tell the gentlemen, sir, about Mr. Selwyn and the Duke of Queensberry, sir,” etc., on which the old man, set a-going like some musical-box, would start off on his narrative. He was a sad spectacle. Nose and chin to shame a knocker, Wrinkles that would puzzle Cocker. One of the best stories told to us by Mr. Dickens in a railway carriage--unpublished, too--we must repeat; but the voice cannot be supplied: it was that of Justice Stareleigh, as given at the “readings,” very slow and funereal:--