and minerals, and the effence of all BENEFICIAL plants. The kitchen-garden adjoins to the east wall of the pleasure-garden; the upper part of which, being divided by hothouses, and the farm-yard, makes it a regular square of rather lefs than an acre in extent. upper The end of this garden is totally filled with the fove, 30 feet in length; the hot-houfe 45 feet long; and the confervatory 50 feet in length: the weft end of the last breaks the wall, by glass doors into the pleasure-garden, terminated by an antique ftone model of Flora, on a ftone pedestal, with this infcription in front: Non canimus furdis: omnia refpondet Flora⚫ On the front towards the kitchen-garden is infcribed on the fame pedestal, Arbitrium tu Dea Floris habe. Above the kitchen-garden is the farmyard, divided on the fide next the pleasuregarden into conveniencies for poultry, &c. and an aviary; the laft opening by a glafs-door into the pleasure-garden. The bottom of the farm-yard, next the kitchen-garden, is terminated by the carthouse in front, with two correfponding wings, one of which is the gardener's apartment, and the other is appropriated to other purposes neceffary to the gar dener's ufe. On the eaft fide of the kitchen garden is the nursery, enclosed alfo, and abounding with wall, ftandard, and efpalier fruit-trees, at the upper end running into the orchard, and bounded on the weft fide by the drying ground and melonary. The lower end of the nursery opens into the arbuftum, through which a walk of about a mile is carried under the fhade of above one hundred choice fruit-trees, and numerous exotics. The arbuftum winds to the front of the dwelling-houfe, through the grove of trees before-mentioned; near the centre of which, in a natural excavation of the ground, a large cold-bath is conftructed, whofe limpid fpring flows without intermiffion, and beneath forms a bafon of water. The bath is covered with papier machee, and the whole ftructure is furrounded by ever-greens and circular walks; and thefe again are fecured by light wire-work, which all together form a beautiful object in the front of the dwelling-house. If, instead of turning to the bath, we puríue a straight courfe from the arbuf. tum, the walk paffes below the coldbath, and perforates the grove of trees, and leaning to the right, terminates at a beautiful canal, now completing, two hundred feet long, and 50 feet broad. It must appear a matter of furprize to a person who curforily confiders the fcite of London, that a villa on the fouth fide of the Thames, little more than three miles from each of the three city bridges, and that may be feen from that of Blackfriars, and from the tranfverse streets of the Strand, fhould afford a profpect of nearly one hundred and fifty miles in circumference. In front, indeed, the city prefents itself; but the eye foon paffes over this grand difplay of human elegance and wealth to the fummits of thofe hills where Hamstead and Highgate and other hamlets are fcattered, among which Caen-wood and other charming feats are the Hill and its lofty fpire arife; and the interspersed. Beyond thefe, Harrow on for; and paffing along the counties of eye may wander to the palace of WindMiddlefex, Bucks, and Hertford, have an extended view of Effex, till it falls upon the ifle of Thanet, and croffing the Thames, return on the east by Shooter'sThe fouth is Hill and Greenwich. bounded by Sydenham hills and Norwood. The weft takes in Chelfea, and the upper part of the Thames above the bridges. This extenfive and picturesque view is confiderably heightened by the varied objects which the Thames affords. The failing and varied difpofition of the fhipping; the manly exertions of feamen at the oar; the agility exerted in furling, fhifting, and manoeuvring the fails,-all where exceeded, and rarely equalled. unite in forming fcenes of grandeur no That chafte and amiable poet the late JOHN SCOTT, upon viewing this fcenery, burft forth in the following defcriptive eulogy of it, which exhibits at the fame time the fenfibility and amities of his own heart. But late, my LaTTS M, there with thee, 'Twas mine the tranquil hour to share, There, There, as the impending cloud of smoke From ancient Lambeth's west extreme To Limehouse, glitt'ring in the evening And now and then the glancing eye And one with oaken coverts crown'd, In no period has there been a greater accumulation of new buildings than the prefent: many of the villages around the metropolis are doubled in magnitude, within the space of ten years, or little more. On the north fide of London the increase has not been very confiderable; on the weft, in which we include the space between Chelsea and Hyde-Park, The Dulwich hills. the enlargement is great; but it is on the fouth fide chiefly, that buildings have been constructed with the most astonishing rapidity. Wandsworth and Clapham, we have already taken occafion to notice; and if we travel eastward, Stockwell, Lambeth, Newington, Kennington, Walworth, Camberwell, and Peckham, are almoft united by new and spacious houses, and great part of St. George's Fields is now forming into streets. Camberwell, to which we now confine our remarks more particularly, is daily augmenting. The whole road from Lon don to this village, comprizing three miles, is nearly a compleat ftreet of convenient houfes; and the road that runs to Dul. wich is now omamented with feven ftately edifices: one near the centre, in the poffeffion of Mr. Henshaw, and built by Blackburne, poffeffes much architectural elegance. The road to Peckham is ornamented with the new buildings of the Terraces, and this village itfelf is daily improving and enlarging. Perfonal luxury and domeftic conve nience unite in a peculiar manner, in the prefent age; and fo far as they promote health and the comforts of life, they are commendable, as they conduce to hap❤ pinefs. The propensity to a refidence on the fouth of the metropolis is more the refult of experience than caprice. The oldeft Phyficians have remarked, that for three quarters of the year, the wind blows from the fouth towards London; and confequently, for that period, the air is as pure as if the fituation were at the greatest diftance from the city; and the three months when the north winds prevail, it is in the winter feason, when the severity of the weather draws the company from their retreats to the town; or when it does Rot, the northern blaft ist this feafon lefs difagreeable, as it conveys with the fmoke the warmth of the ambient air of the metropolis. It is from this confideration reafonable to fuppofe, that many trade men whofe bufinefs confines them to the city, will feek a reiidence on the fouth fide of the Thaines; hich at the fame time admits of an easy access to the Bo rough, Leadenhall, and the Fleet markets. The author was born in the environs of London, on the Surrey fide. Quid fit turpe, quid utile, quid dulce, quid non. The Regent. A Tragedy. By Bertie Greatheed, Esq. 8vo. 1s. 6d. 1788. Robfon and Clark, SO many years have elapfed fince any thing like a tolerable tragedy has appeared, that it is with peculiar pleafure we hail the prefent production. The Regent, tho' very far from a faultlefs piece, tho' there are feveral great inconfiftencies in the conftitution of the plot, and harth quaintneffes in the diction, yet poffeffes fo much of the genuine fpirit of the effera vis animi, as to raife it far above the orb of its compeers. Mr. Greatheed has approached with reverential confidence to the fhrine of Nature, and caught from her altar one bright fpark. With very great courage he has placed before him the mighty father of our drama, and with a Eurious felicity has imitated without copying him. In Shakespeare only is to be found that perfect rotundity and perfection of character that gives us the whole man, equally what is difclofed, and what is withdrawn from our inspection. -In him only does Nature herfclf speak with most miraculous organ. Other ge niufes, however powerful, mult content themfelves with drawing what Shakefpeare is; and among thefe, the bold tinted sketch of the imperious Regent must høld a very honourable rank. But tho' we are warm in our admiration of this play in general, the more particularly as being the firft offspring of a virgin Mufe, yet we muft point out a few inaccuracies which ftrike us. When the Regent is defeated of his purpose on Dianora, by the interpofition of his brother Gomez, he rules on him to flay him. At this inftant Anfaldo, the Duke, who is supposed to be murdered, enters.-Manuel, truck with horror, fuppofes it to be his ghoft, and hides his face, on which Anfaldo arrefts Gomez, and leads him out; fo that when the Regent ventures to look up, his brother and The phantom are gone. Now, as Arfaldo was at this moment perfectly acquainted with Manuel's guilt, it may well be aiked, why he suffered him to escape his hand? It was a foolish Quixotism, to permit him to get back into his caftle, increly for the glory of beating him out. Mr. Greatheed, indeed, makes Anfaldo fay it was a remnant of old friendship that faved him; but the real caufe is, that if Manuel had then been flain, it would have been impoffible to have carried on the play through two remaining acts. Befides, the attitude of Anfaldo, the furprize of Gomez, and the horror of Manuel, are too evidently contrived for flage effe. Overlooking this, however, Manuel's foliloquy on this occafion is a noble one. I sleep not, nor am mad. It was his form, Cleft wide the fulph'rous pit, and tugg'd him was rather a bold ftroke; but as it paffed Yet, there was caufe; 'twas treacherous to on the ftage, we shall not object to it. Another thing which ftrikes us as incongruous is, that Gomez is made the brother of Manuel. Tho' fuch propinquintity of blood might induce him to mu de: Anfaldo in the Regent's caufe, yet his extreme hatred and enmity to his brother afterward is not, we hope, in nature. That Manuel is a villain, and deferves punishment, is obvious; but that it fhould not be brought about by the affiftance of his brother, is equally certain. The laft contrivance by which Gomez faves the life of the child, is in the highest degree improbable, not to fay impoffible. We give the following as a fpecimen of Mr. Greatheed's manner; it is from the clofe of the first act. betray me: But good for evil is the meet return. GOMEZ. While life remains, dear as that life I'll guard him Such paltry retribution ftill is mine. 'Tis nobly faid, and cancels each misdeed: For better is the Nile-impregnate foil, Whofe copious juices with redundance bend The harveft down, though fome rank weeds it nourish, Than the dead wafte, that borders it around, Which neither aliment, nor poison, bears And he, who through excess of virtue errs Alike tranfcends the wretch of apathy, Whofe only blazon is-the lack of crimes. Hence with the enmity we bore this houfe! Its fhort-liv'd reign fhail end in lafting friendship. GOMEZ. Give me thy hand; thou fill'ft me with new pleasures. When is the time you with I should depart? MANUEL. MANUEL. And reign the fov reign of these fatr domains, Now, even now; and bear with thee this Beware, weak man!-thy penitence may letter; hurt thee. Well glad I am this noifome farce is o'er ; Stop, now, or never-Never be it then▬▬▬▬▬▬▬ I'm for the firft; let Gomez feek the other, The Ton; or, The Follies of Fafhion. A Comedy. By Lady Wallace, 8vo. Is. 6d. Hookham. THIS piece was peculiarly unfortunate in its reprefentation. It was ftrongly oppofed the first night, ftill more power fully the fecond, and got through the third merely by a compromife between the audience and the managers, that it fhould be withdrawn for ever. Lady Wallace, however, nothing daunted, as it fhould appear by this feverity, has determined to fhame the fools," and print her comedy, confoling herself with the ufual topics of unlucky authors, that her fatire was too deeply felt to be forgiven; that hence par• ties were formed, and her piece condemned before it was heard, "though fupported by the noblest and most respectable audithat ever graced a theatre. ence -fatis eft Equitem mihi plaudere, ut audax, Contemtis aliis, explofa Arbufcula dixit. But we, who are little fe ayed by birth or titles in matters of criticifm, are forry to be obliged in juftice to affirm the decree of the public, and join decidedly in her Ladyship's condemnation. That there is in The Follies of Fafhion a great deal of good fenfe, tome obferva. tion of life, and occafionally a happy dicule of modern manners, will not be denied; but thefe, tho' powerful ingredients, will not of themfelves constitute a comedy, independent of plot, fituation, character, and, above all, nature. Lady Wallace's perfonages are all of one piece : -Glaucumq; Medontaq; Therfilochumq; Their manners, their habits, their purfuits are the fame. In the character of Daffodil the has, notwithstanding her difclaiming perfonality, undoubtedly gibbetted a real perfonage; and, making allowance for the exaggeration of the stage, the likenefs is not amifs. It is, however, of fo very defpicable a nature, that no man can condole with fufferings which are but fair retaliation from the pen of a woman, drawn, in this inftance, in the cause of her fex. In the reft of the characters there is neither nature nor originality. The great defect of the play is its utter want of incident: it has abfolutely no plot-it is a mere fucceffion of dialogue, iprightly indeed, but uninterefting, and no more a drama than Swift's witty and Polite Converfation. Indecency of language, of which Lady Wallace complains the has been accufed, we must acquit her of, tho' here and there occur a few double entendres. Macpharo, an Irish gamefter, freaking |