It is curious that Edward Irving, like Whitfield, was remarkable for a fearful squint. The _Edinburgh Review_, with a cruelty not unusual in its criticisms, attacked his appearance, actions, tones, gesticulation, and pronunciation, and stated that he thundered forth a growling falsetto, and ‘draweth out the thread of his verbosity finer than the staple of his argument.’ It describes his violent contortions of countenance, and winds up by asserting that there had never been such a tossing of brawny arms, and such a lowering of bushy eyebrows performed ‘to so little purpose.’ But the critic adds that, ‘were he to dispense with his absurd, fitful, inappropriate vehemence, and eternal straining after singularity in the most minute points, he might become a rational and respectable minister of the Gospel.’ Turning back a few yards to Branch Hill, a road runs off at an angle with the main road past Lower Terrace, at No. 2 of which Constable, with his ‘placid companion’ and their little ones, had lodgings in 1821, and takes us out by the reservoir of the Hampstead Waterworks upon the Heath. By making a little détour to the left, in front of Upper Terrace, and taking advantage of an opening between the houses, we find ourselves in the Judges’ Walk, or _Prospect Terrace_, as at one time modern Hampstead was inclined to call it, forgetting the archæological interest attached to the old name, and find ourselves face to face with a surprise of prospective beauty—a view so wide in extent, so rich in woodland scenery, rolling on over the Hertfordshire hills to the right, and all between a wide expanse of fertile country, that in all England there is scarcely a finer woodland and pastoral view. The trees and houses to the left shut out the sight of Harrow, and the glittering waters of the Kingsbury reservoir are no longer seen; but looking to the right, the view is charming, and to witness a sunset from this eminence is worth, on a fine summer’s day, a pilgrimage to Hampstead. The Judges’ Walk was so called, it is said, because during the year of the Great Plague the judges removed their Courts from Westminster, and, returning to the normal practice of their prototypes in Saxon and Norman times, held their _Seats of Justice_ ‘under the green tree’s shade.’ Court Tree, in the Isle of Sheppey, has its name from this antique custom, and the laws are thus annually promulgated on the Tynwald Hill in the Isle of Man. [Illustration: _Harrow and Welsh Harp, from Hampstead Heath._]