Alighting from the carriage, we enter a small vestibule, and thence a door on the right hand opens into the breakfast parlour; the walls of which are covered with a choice selection of pictures from modern and ancient artists; and from the balcony at the window overhanging the terrace, we have a beautiful view of the lawn, with its venerable fir and yew trees; the handsome front (which alone is visible) of the ample stables, distant about a quarter of a mile, with the shrubberies and hills of the Deer Park rising beyond, and a long perspective of rich dairy land, extending in a southerly direction over Matford to Stone, with the high trees of St. Michael's, or Micklewood Chase, rising in a dark mass to the left.

Even here we have a better idea of the height of the situation; for though this room is on a level, or nearly so, with the court-yard, still it is far above the lawn and the surrounding country, and even from this spot it is obvious, that the Castle overlooks or commands all positions that might, in case of siege, be taken up for offensive purposes.

Let us proceed through this wing of the building; having re-entered the vestibule, two staircases are before us the one descending, leads into the library; the other ascending, which we follow, conducts to the music room. This apartment is cheerful in its appearance, and well arranged; a fine organ between the windows, which have the same aspect as the breakfast parlour; a piano-forte at the other end; a few choice pictures at the sides, and the arms of the family in the centre of the ceiling. Descending three or four steps through the thickness of the wall, we enter the withdrawing room, in which are some very curious and beautiful miniatures, and other family pictures; three sides being covered by tapestry, representing as many seasons of the year; in one corner is a small closet with some rare specimens of china. The apartment is lighted by two windows, facing the inner court, while a third commands the prospect already described; the recess forming the latter window strikingly conveys a correct idea of the amazing strength and massive masonry of the Castle gene

rally. Two doors again open into the dining parlour; noble in its proportions and wainscoted with dark oak, having some full-length pictures set in the panels, and lighted by windows on either side, the same as the room we have just surveyed. Continuing our walk, we leave this parlour and find ourselves in a sort of landing-place, from which two staircases descend; the narrower one on the left leads to the offices; that broad flight before us conducts to the great hall.

But stay, we must not pass over one of the most beautiful and interesting parts of the Castle; this modest, ancient, but unassuming door-way on the right, has introduced us to the chapel. Its narrow and stained windows, set in the thickness of the wall, and clothed without by the snapdragon, and other wild flowers, admit a soft and holy light; being removed from the noisier parts of the Castle, there is a quiet simplicity about it, which seems to invite a commune with the soul, and to wean away all worldly associations. As we enter, the altar is on the left; a mighty bible in the old character is

open, supported on the back and wings of a large bronze eagle. At the opposite end of the chapel, raised considerably above the floor, framed of dark oak, and lined with crimson cloth, is the gallery for the heads of the family; and in front of us, and between the windows, are the narrow arches of the confessional-the inner sides of which are covered with very curious black-letter inscriptions of a religious tendency, but some of them totally illegible from the ruthless hand of the Reformation. Yonder are the spurs and sword I have so often seen my father wear: but let us not tarry here, nor enter into more minute descriptions, lest my mind should wander back into a wilderness of past events, whence it might be difficult to recall it to its more immediate task.

Leaving the chapel, we proceed down a broad flight of stairs, with the pictures of some old favourite hounds upon the walls, and these high folding-doors have introduced us to the great hall; a noble place it is, in length sixty-one feet, in breadth thirty-two feet six inches; and in height

thirty-two feet seven inches. We stand upon the dais or raised part of the floor, where the family and their immediate guests used to sit during their meals; while the tables for the inferiors were arranged below them. On the left are a row of high and narrow windows, filled with stained glass, and opening upon the inner court; on the right, in an easterly direction, are two broader windows, commanding a meadow view, as far as Stinchcomb Hill; one of these opens upon, and gives access to, a flight of steps, leading to the terrace: while at the lower end of the hall is another window, so highly situated as to touch the roof, and placed immediately over a small gallery. Those doors beneath lead to the housekeeper's room, kitchen, and other offices. The roof, seats, and wainscots of the great hall are of oak; the floor of white stone, tessellated with black marble; and yonder hang different pieces, and whole suits of armour, swords, crossbows, and other weapons. On either side of the fire-place also are the tattered remnants of the very banners beneath which my grandfather raised