Dr. Weatherhead describes the prospect from this terrace with more minuteness than the hazy state of the atmosphere enabled us to trace its several beauties. The ancient archiepiscopal town of Croydon lies at your feet; more remote, Banstead Downs spread a carpet of blooming verdure to the sight; in the extreme distance Windsor Castle peers its majestic towers above the mist; while elsewhere the utmost verge of the horizon is bounded by the bold range of the Surrey and Hampshire hills. Turning to the left you enjoy a view of Addiscombe Place, the seminary for cadets of the East India Company; of Shirley, the sporting seat of John Maberly, Esq. M.P.; of the Addington hills clothed with heaths; and of the park, the seat of his Grace the Archbishop of Canterbury; when the prospect, deepening in extent, stretches as far as Knockholt Beeches, near Seven Oaks, and, winding round, comprehends the tall spire of Beckenham Church, piercing through the dense woods which surround it; Shooter's Hill, Blackheath, and the villages that intervene. Immediately beneath you are the grounds of the Spa, every portion of which can be distinctly traced from this spot: the lodge, lawn, refreshment-room, spring, and orchestra, as we have described them, and the paths winding among the woods till they disappear as it were in trackless solitude. Dr. Weatherhead's pamphlet treats copiously, but in a popular style, of the medicinal properties of the Spa. The terms for drinking the waters are furnished at the lodge, where the visiter may smile at the remedy being _set to music_, in the melodies of the Beulah Spring Quadrilles. It may prevent some disappointment by stating that the Grounds are not opened to the public on Sundays. [1] By accurate observation the height of the fog, relatively with the higher edifices, whose elevation is known, it has been ascertained that the fogs of London never rise more than from two hundred to two hundred and forty feet above the same level. [2] Who does not remember the traditionary notoriety of Margaret Finch? [3] The private property of the estate, and attached to the Spa. [4] We drank a half-pint tumbler of the water, which, as Dr. Weatherhead observes, is bitter without being disagreeable. Its flavour is that of Sulphate of Magnesia, or _Epsom Salts;_ and we should say that our _modicum_ might be imitated by dissolving a dram of the above ingredient in half-a-pint of pure water. * * * * * RETROSPECTIVE GLEANINGS. ANCIENT LAWS. The following quaint observations possess peculiar interest at the present moment: