In the church, in the Earl of Burlington's vault, is interred the celebrated Kent, a painter, architect, and father of modern gardening. "In the first character," says Mr. Walpole, "he was below mediocrity; in the second, he was the restorer of the science; in the last, an original, and the inventor of an art that realizes painting and improves nature. Mahomet imagined an Elysium, but Kent created many." He frequently declared, it is said, that he caught his taste in gardening from reading the picturesque descriptions of Spencer. Mason, noticing his mediocrity as a painter, pays this fine tribute to his excellence in the decoration of rural scenery:-- ----"He felt The pencil's power--but fir'd by higher forms Of beauty than that pencil knew to paint, Work'd with the living hues that Nature lent, And realiz'd his landscapes. Generous be, Who gave to Painting what the wayward nymph Refus'd her votary; those Elysian scenes, Which would she emulate, her nicest hand Must all its force of light and shade employ." On the outside of the wall of the churchyard, on a stone tablet, is the following curious inscription:--"This wall was made at ye charges of ye right honourable and trulie pious Lorde Francis Russel, Duke of Bedford, out of true zeal and care for ye keeping of this churchyard, and ye wardrobe of God's saints, whose bodies lay therein buried, from violating by swine and other profanation, so witnessed! William Walker, V., A.D. 1623." We cannot better conclude our description than with a sketch from Sir Richard Phillips's "Morning's Walk to Kew." He was walking on the opposite banks of the river, when on a sudden he caught the sound of a ring of village bells. "Surely," he exclaimed, "they are Chiswick bells!--the very bells under the sound of which I received part of my early education, and, as a schoolboy, passed the happiest days of my life!--Well might their tones vibrate to my inmost soul, and kindle uncommon sympathies!" I now recollected that the winding of the river must have brought me nearer to that simple and primitive village than the profusion of wood had permitted me to perceive, and my memory had been unconsciously acted upon by the tones which served as keys to all the associations connected with these bells, their church and the village of Chiswick! I listened again, and now discriminated those identical sounds which I had not heard during a period of more than thirty years. I distinguished the very words in the successive tones, which the school-boys and puerile imaginations at Chiswick used to combine with them. In thought, I became again a schoolboy--"Yes," said I, "the six bells tell me that _my dun cow has just calv'd_, exactly as they did above thirty years since!"--Did the reader never encounter a similar key-note, leading to a multitude of early and vivid recollections? Those well-remembered tones, in like manner, brought