is ascended by superb stone steps.  On the castle are mounted seven small pieces of cannon, which were presented to the Duke of Rutland by George the Third; from these pieces 21 rounds were fired Nov. 5, 1808, in commemoration of the Gunpowder Plot.  The view from the terraces and towers comprehends the whole vale of Belvoir, and the adjoining country as far as Lincoln, including twenty-two of the Duke of Rutland’s manors.  On the southern slope of the hill are enclosed terraces, on which there are several flower-gardens, surrounded by extensive shrubberies.  The kitchen-gardens extend to eight acres.  The park is of great extent, and contains fine forest trees which form a woodland beneath the hill, so extensive as to afford shelter for innumerable rooks.  There are likewise thriving plantations, containing some remarkably fine young oaks.

Belvoir Castle has one of the most superb interiors in the kingdom:  its furniture and decorations are of the most costly description.  It also contains one of the most valuable collections of paintings, whether considered for the variety of schools, or the judicious choice of the works of each master.  Among those who have contributed to this invaluable assemblage, are Poussin, Carlo Dolci, Guido, Claude Lorraine, Salvator Rosa, Murillo, Reubens, Teniers, and Reynolds.  The collection was principally formed by John, the third duke, and Charles, his successor, who were munificent patrons of the arts.  All the modern pictures, of which there are a considerable number, were collected by the former duke.

The last general repairs of Belvoir Castle are stated to have cost the noble owner upwards of 60,000L.  The structure has been more than once extensively injured by fire.  A conflagration there in October, 1816, consumed a large portion of the ancient part of the castle, and several of the pictures.  Among them was Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Nativity, a composition of thirteen figures, and in dimensions 12 feet by 18.  This noble picture was purchased by the late Duke of Rutland for 1,200 guineas.

* * * * *

THE PAINTER’S LAST PASSION.

  A hectic hue is on my feverish cheek,
  And slowly throbs my pulse—­but it will cease;
  And cease, too, will the visions instinct,
  Impalpable, and deep, that haunt my soul! 
  Death, who can dash the chalice from the lips
  Of Pleasure’s votary, and hush the lyre
  While poetry is breathing on its strings;
  Death, who can quench the spirit which portrays
  Beauty’s resemblance on the marble urn,
  Will steep my feelings in oblivion’s gloom,
  Ere wintry winds disperse the sunny leaves
  That cluster round the bosom of the rose. 
  But I have communed with enchanting shapes,
  And felt the silver gush of many a song
  Amid the air, until my spirit seem’d
  Instinct with glorious draughts of paradise!