our idioms, see them flit away without warning, like the shadow, and all our training lost, as water upon the earth, never to be gathered up again?
I trust these remarks will be forgiven, for the sake of the motive that prompted them. It is natural to desire to transplant to our own beloved, native land whatever we admire in a foreign clime, especially if it affects the beauty and order of domestic life, and the true happiness of that sex, on whom its responsibilities devolve.
"Here too stout Cromwell stretched himself to die."
Cromwell, in the height of his power, was fond of residing at Hampton Court. Here he solemnized with pomp the marriage of two of his daughters into the line of the high nobility, one with Lord Falconburg, the other with Lord Rich, heir to the earldom of Warwick. Here too his favorite daughter, Mrs. Claypole, was smitten with death, and in her last life-struggle warned him of sin, and adjured him to repentance. Her earnest words, mingled with moans of pain, haunted his conscience as he wandered from room to room, in the restlessness of the disease that at length destroyed him. "It was at this period," says Howitt in his interesting Visits to Remarkable Places,' "that George Fox, the founder of the Society of Friends, coming to Hampton Court, to beg him to
