WESTDEAN-HOUSE, SUSSEX, THE SEAT OF LORD SELSEY.

rounded. The plantations made by this nobleman already cover eight

The gardens of Westdean still retain their ancient celebrity for the extraordinary fineness and profuse variety of rare fruits; and the flowergarden, which is altogether the creation of the present Lady Selsey, and is of very considerable extent, is perhaps equalled only by that of Lady Grenville at Dropmore.

AMONG the many beautiful mansions which adorn the county of Sussex, Westdean-House stands pre-hundred acres, and are beginning to eminent for elegance of external ap- present a most splendid sylvan ap pearance, and a happy combination of pearance. every thing appertaining to internal comfort, refinement, and display. The alterations in the ancient residence of this noble family were commenced by James Lord Selsey, and completed by his son John, the father of the present peer. The whole was effected under the professional skill and cultivated taste of the late Mr. Wyatt, whose judgment was even extended to most of the interior decorations and furniture. On the accession of the present peer to the honours of his ancestors, little therefore remained to be done with reference to the mansion; and his lordship's attention has been therefore chiefly directed to the improvement of the grounds and of the magnificent estate by which it is surVol. IX. No. LIV.

Westdean has been long the resi dence of the noble family of Peachey, who, previous to their elevation to the peerage, were frequently representatives of the county of Sussex. They are descended from the ancient Barons of Peché of Kingsthorpe, in the county of Leicester; from which house also sprung Hamon Peché, summoned to Parliament from the 28th of Edward I. to 10th

TT

of Edward II. as Lord Peché of Brume, in the county of Cambridge. Henry, the present Lord Selsey, succeeded his father in 1816, and

married, the year following, the Hon. Anna Maria Louisa Irby, youngest daughter of Frederick, the late Lord Boston.

JUNE.

Three hours before midnight on the evening of the 20th of June, 1822, I left the house of an hospitable person in Tornea (who had received me two days before as a stranger), to witness the phenomenon of which I have been speaking. I took no guide with me; for company is a sad intrusion upon those contemplative feelings which the spectacle I was about to witness must necessarily excite. Tornea, as my readers probably know, is a wretched little place, although the reputed capital of Lapland; its streets are

I PROPOSE this month to deviate from my usual plan, and be a mere matter-of-fact contributor. Morality, sarcasm, sentimentalism, I shall altogether dismiss, and contrive, for once, to give the reader some information: but now-a-days every body is so very wise, that he is a bold man who undertakes to make people wiser; and it may indeed be very well asked, "What have you, Mr. Contributor, to tell us about the month of June that we don't know already? None of your evasions, sir, or digressions; stick to your subject; June is your text, and we insist upon your keep-neither long nor intricate, so that I ing to it." So I will, gentle reader, was soon clear of the town. In the only bear with me. Much you no environs of Tornea there are attempts doubt know of June. You know, I at cultivation and inclosure; there dare say, that it is the sixth month are some small fields of rye, some in the year; that it has some con- patches of oats, and some scanty nection with Juno; that May comes pasturage, and a number of small before it and July after it; and that gardens, the productions of which June skies are said by poets to be include only the most hardy vegetablue. Perhaps you also know that bles, but abundance of those quickthe 21st of June is the longest day blowing flowers which are called into in all the year throughout the north-life and beauty even by a Lapland ern hemisphere; and that if you will only go far enough north, you may write a billet-doux by the light of the sun at midnight. Now, it is of this very fact that I am going to speak; a phenomenon which I suspect none of you ever saw, and of which, although you entertain a speculative belief, you have a strong desire to be assured by an eyewitness. Listen then to me, ye sceptics, and you shall know the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.

sun. The change indeed which is
created in the aspect of nature by
but a few days of summer in these
northern regions is miraculous:
For, Lapland, though thy region barren be,

And cold the wind that whistles o'er thy lorn
And cheerless plains, where here and there a
tree

Stands lone and desolate; and though thy
morn,

Day after day in snows and darkuess born,
Ushers few tedious hours of struggling light:
Yet does the spring a little while adorn
Thy barren land. The sun looks out of night,
And Nature smiles around, and gladdens at
the sight.

had been!

past eleven, it had descended nearly to the horizon. There was a dead stillness; the sky was perfectly unclouded, but curtained as if by a pale film. Upon earth, all had the appearance of coming night and darkness; no human being was to be seen; no bird was on the wing; there was no cry of any animal. The fowls of heaven had covered their heads with their wings, and the beasts of the field were couched in sleep; it was the feeling of night, too-the chill of night, and the breathless calm of midnight. But

Every one has heard of " Tornea's hoary brow." But it was not hoary on the evening of the 20th of June, 1822. The Hill of Tornea is but a low hill, not higher, nor I believe so high as many in the north-above, the sun was yet in the sky, ern counties of England, but extremely rugged and difficult to climb. A little after ten I arrived at the foot of it, and proceeded slowly to ascend. The lower part affords pasture for some goats, and perhaps for deer, at some periods; but in the month of June there are few deer to be seen in this district, the greater number having been sent to the summer fair at Drontheim.

As I ascended, the sun continued to sink, and when I reached the summit, which I did about a quarter

dull and deathlike, and seemed on the eve of leaving the world to the shadows of night. I stood and gazed upon him; slowly he sunk, lower and lower; at length his rim touched the horizon-it dipped below itbut for an instant, and then emerged again upon the azure. In a few moments the seeming of night was no longer visible; it was morning; and as I descended from my elevation, I heard the chirping of the early bird, and saw the goats rise up and begin to crop the herbage.

LETTERS FROM AN ARTIST IN ITALY.

No. IV.

NAPLES, Mar. 4, 1827.

season, dressed in all the luxury and variety of the most inventive cookery, with an after-course of pastry and a dessert of fruit and sweetmeats. Thus they fast!

THE Carnival is at length over; || sisting of every delicious fish of the and to the season of riot, noise, confusion, and dissipation, has succeeded that of sackcloth and ashes. The people of fashion, instead of dancing and masquerading till six or seven in the morning, are content to sit quietly and play at cards till two or three; and instead of voluptuous dinners, and still more voluptuous suppers, are satisfied to have their tables supplied with only a dozen dishes, con

I had no idea of the extent to which the Carnival was carried, till this year. The first winter I was in Italy was Jubilee, or Holy Year; in Rome there was no Carnival: last winter it was Holy Year here, and

ed. This masque was composed of persons of the highest rank, Italian, German, French, and English, who happened to be here; and I must say, for the credit of English beauty, that two of the ladies, Miss Talbot and Miss Beresford, the Bishop of Ossory's niece, were among the handsomest of the party. This took place at the Academia Nobile, where only persons of a certain rank are admitted; but so delighted was the

determined to have it all exhibited before the public. The theatre, the immense theatre of San Carlo, was covered with planks and turned into a ball-room; and the king, queen, and royal family, followed by all the above-mentioned noble masks, paraded in theatrical state round and round the pit; and the people were admitted to see the performance, and share in the pleasure, at six carlini (two shillings) per head. In this way do the English pass their time at Naples: indeed, this season has been the spring-tide of dissipation, and so entirely has my quiet occupation been broken up by it, that I have had to sit still and do nothing.

although the Carnival did take place, it was kept greatly within bounds: but this season there has been a reaction, in revenge for the abstinence which the Holy Year had imposed upon them; and they have, indeed, entered with more than double ardour into all the amusements consequent upon the Carnival. Night after night, at one house or other, there has been a fancy-ball or masked ball; till, at last, the king and all the royal family, dressed in the splen-king with this spectacle, that he was dour of Eastern luxury, covered with brilliants and jewels, presented themselves in the rooms of the Academy, and paraded up and down amongst the company in their assumed and costly disguises; after which, seating themselves on a temporary throne, they surveyed at leisure the other masques got up for their entertainment. These were in many respects highly interesting and beautiful. The four Italian poets, Dante, Tasso, Petrarch, and Ariosto, led the way, followed by the most conspicuous characters in their several poems. The singular assemblage of valiant knights in armour, beautiful ladies in the costume of the middle ages, with attendants, Troubadours, &c. formed a most interesting spectacle. The poets each presented verses to the king, and the other characters went through a stately fi-season of the year I do not get till gure-dance of high and lofty bearing, not inconsistent with the characters assumed. This was followed by the tarantella, or national dance, by eight of the most beautiful young ladies amongst the Neapolitan nobi-ried over the priest's head, there was lity, dressed as contadini, or peasants; and then another set, in what they call costume Scotxeze, but which has no other resemblance to the Highland dress than being chequer

How long one may be in a place without seeing all its shows and knowing all its customs! I have just been to my dinner, which at this

dark; returning, I followed the cavalcade of the Host, which, though I had often seen it before, I had never seen in quite so much style, Besides the ordinary umbrella car

an additional canopy, supported by four men, covering priest, host, umbrella and all. The whole was preceded by a number of lantern-bearers and torch-men, and others carrying

whole faggots in a state of blazing || do him honour." Still there was a combustion. As it proceeded down mystery that puzzled me. I perthe Strada di Chiaja, under the ceived that the majority of the peogloomy bridge which leads to the ple bearing lights and kindling fagupper part of the town, it had a gots were not in the employ of the most picturesque and solemn effect. church, but voluntary contributors to At the moment of the Host's passing, the parade and ceremony. On rethe people from the ground-floor to ferring to a book of indulgences, I the fifth and sixth stories bring lights find this explained: there it is set to the balconies and fall down on down, that "Pope Innocent XII. in their knees. The lights are as sud- the year 1695, granted seven years denly removed when the canopy has and forty days remission of the pains passed, leaving all behind in a state of Purgatory to all who accompany of gloom and darkness, which you, the Host to the houses of the sick accustomed to gas-lighted streets, with torches or lighted candles; five will hardly be able to conceive; but years and forty days to those who it adds most wonderfully to the ef- follow it without lights; and three fect. The lights, seen at a distance, years and forty days to those who, may be supposed an emanation from legitimately prevented, procure or the deity, whose little wafer-form hire other persons to carry torches, would be worth nothing without all &c. and by this means contribute to this pomp and blaze. the splendour of the ceremony."

When the procession reached the palace of the sick man, the larger canopy stopped at the gate, and the wafer and umbrella were carried up to the chamber: this was another piece of theatrical effect. The lights were seen winding up the steps of the palace, and the gloom of the court-yard contributed to its imposing splendour. As soon as it reached the chamber, the mob in the street lighted the faggots and made a blaze | of illumination around the house. I assumed the character of a stranger, and asked a man what all this meant. He said, "Jesus Christ was in the house, and the bonfire was made to

I have just got a letter from at Rome, in which he says, "Wilkie is painting here with great spirit. He has done a confessional scene with stuff in it equal to Rembrandt." He has also done a picture of the Calabrian Pipers, and one of the Washing of the Pilgrims' Feet: so that his health must be greatly im proved, at which I am sure R——, as well as all his other friends, will rejoice.

The Prince Leopold of Saxe-Coburg is recovered entirely from his lingering illness. His disorder was bilious. He was attended by Drs. Eden and Quin.

IGNATIUS DENNER.

(Concluded from p. 264.)

IGNATIUS DENNER was the son of || luables. From his earliest youth his this doctor, who, through his arts, father had initiated him into the had been saved from the flames, along mysteries of his infernal art, and his with a box of his most precious va- soul had been devoted to Satan be