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and, from a closer view, assumes the appearance of a large person veiled with white. Directly to the left is Lady Washington's Drawing Room, in which is a variety of beautiful drapery, hanging in the form of curtains. On the right side of this apartment is a declining rock, placed like a looking-glass, with a canopy above, and a bureau just before it. We then returned, and came to two large pillars, of a conical form, about thirty feet high, called the Pyramids; and another, called Pompey's Pillar. Washington's Hall is about ninety-one yards in length, and twenty feet wide; the arch is about fifty feet high, the floor is level but gravelly. In the room I fired a pistol, which produced sound equal to the most severe clap of thunder, and for some time a rumbling noise resounded throughout the different apartments. We then proceeded to the Diamond Room, which derives its name from the brilliancy of its spars, that resemble diamonds. We had here in view, but at some distance, a small white petrifaction, resembling a pillar of salt, called Lot's Wife, which is difficult of access, on account of the irregularity of the room. The Dining Room comes next, and it is very lengthy; the arch is about eighty feet above the floor. The representation of a Church Steeple, Jefferson's Salt Mountain, and the Chandeliers, are sublime spectacles.

We then passed through a rugged passage, called the Wilderness, into Jefferson's Hall. This passage forms a wild grotesque scene, and whence the numerous broken pillars came, appears to be a question unanswerable, and excites much astonishment. In Jefferson's Hall we first saw a massive body of spar, which would weigh probably thousands of tons, full of flutings regularly formed round its front, called the Tower of Babel. Facing this magnificent monument of supernatural agency, is something that much resembles the new moon surrounded by stars. The Lantern, in this room, is also worthy of notice; it is a projecting rock, with a number of small sheets hanging to it, not much unlike saddle-skirts, which emit the rays from a candle, when placed between them.

Next in our view, is jthe most beautiful piece of spar any where to be found in the cave, called the Lady's Toilet; about fifty yards further is Elijah's Mantle, where this wonderful scene finally terminates. We were now upwards of a quarter of a mile from the entrance, and our candles being nearly consumed we were compelled to return. \

ON THE POOR LAWS.

When we are accustomed to any particular mode of life, we are too apt to consider it as the only one fit for us, or, at least, as the most suited to us, and can hardly' find courage enough to inquire whether it might not be improved. I wish, therefore, to draw attention to the state in which wc are now living under the Poor Laws; and to invite my readers to inquire with me, how those Laws act upon the labouring classes, and whether they are a good or an evil to them.

The two principal things for us to consider are, Settlement, and Allowance, or Relief. Now let us first inquire whether the present mode of Settlement is a good or an evil for the poor man. Does it secure to him a permanent connexion with some fixed and certain spot, where, in case of accident or illness, he may make his wants known, and be sure of kindness and assistance? No, indeed; but to decide to what parish a man belongs, is very frequently, a matter so difficult and puzzling, that not only a poor man cannot make it ou.t.himself, but very large

sums are every year spent in paying lawyers, to make it out in their own way. Then, too, under the present system of Poor Laws, it has become a matter of so much importance to a parish, to avoid increasing the number of its poor, that every mode is adopted to prevent a man from getting a new settlement in it. And what is the consequence? A stop is put to a poor man's carrying his labour to the best market, namely, to places where it is wanted, and where good wages would be given for it. He is thus compelled to remain in idleness and want, where no employment can be found for him, merely because it is that parish where he is supposed to have last gained his legal settlement. Thus, while one place is actually in want of labourers, it is prevented from taking them, while another place, where they are too many, cannot get rid of them. Is then such a mode of granting relief good for the poor man? Certainly not. For, as the rate-payer cannot spend his money twice over, what is paid as relief is, of necessity, taken away from wages, and thxis an honest hard-working labourer is driven to receive that as a bounty from his parish, which he oxight to claim as a right from his employer: the debt due to his industry is converted into a donation to him as a pauper, and, consequently, does him harm, by lowering him among his fellowcountrymen, and changing him from an independent man, earning his own livelihood, into a dependent receiver of parish charity.

But some may think that, by means of the allowance-system, more money is divided among the labouring classes than would be by wages, if that system did not exist. I believe the fact to be just the contrary; but, even if it were so, we see that it is not distributed in employing more labour, and so raising more corn, and cattle, and manufactures for our use. It is, therefore, only more money given for the same quantity of things produced: and what must this do but raise their price, and then who suffers so much as the poor labourer? To all of us, cheap, regularly cheap, bread, is of great importance, but to no one so much as to him. He lives upon his weekly earnings or weekly pay; but these are never raised till some time after the price of corn has risen: he must, therefore, every time the price of corn is raised, go without some of his usual provisions, or else run into debt, and be obliged to pay whatever the man who trusts him chooses to require for his goods; while the richer man, who has some money in store, some capital to fall back upon, can, without difficulty, live upon his means till the pressure of the moment be past.

Then, again, if the price of bread is raised, must not the price of hats, and coats, and shoes, and of our cotton manufactures, rise also? and then there will be fewer able to buy them; fewer, therefore, will be wanted; and, as fewer hands will be required to make them, more labourers will thus be thrown out of work. Those, too, who, from such a cause, are left unemployed, will probably come upon the Rates, causing a fresh quantity of money to be given away, without more food being raised, and thus again a cause is created for raising the price of bread

In either case, then, we see the poor man suffers. If by the Allowance, or Relief System, less money is spent than would be in Wages if there were no Rates, he is deprived of the fair price of his industry; and if more be spent,—which only goes to support people without work, or to pay married men something additional for their children, and not to increase our food and manufactures by employing more labour,—it raises the price of bread, and leaves labourers, on the whole, worse off than before.

Is not the Allowance System again a great hardship to the careful and industrious man, making him no better off than the laziest fellow in his parish? Is it not a hardship, that his thoughtless, careless, idle neighbour, because he chooses to marry, and happens to have a large family, is sure of being highly paid from his parish funds, (perhaps even sure of constant employment,) whilst the man who is willing to work, can with difficulty persuade any one to employ him, even at the lowest rate by which he can support himself, because the employers have to pay, in rates, much more than fair wages to the married neighbour and his family. What father is not aware of the total want of comfort in, and control over his children, when they do not look to him, or even to themselves, but to the Parish for support? And to what but this Allowance system can we attribute the little care, now-a-days, bestowed by children upon their aged or sick parents and relations? To the parish they themselves are accustomed to look, and to the parish they make over all the affectionate duties they formerly rejoiced to perform themselves. What is the cause of all the miserable marriages got up between boys and girls, but the certainty of coming upon the parish funds, instead of looking to gain an honest livelihood by their own labour and industry? And what, let me seriously ask, must be the consequence of the rapid increase in the number of labourers which such marriages must create? Can it be doubted, that where there are too many hands, all are ill off? that it is only where labourers are few, in proportion to the work, that pay is good, and treatment good. Indeed it is impossible but all must see, those especially who lived before the present system of Allowance was adopted, how changed for the worse is the condition of the labourer; and, undoubtedly, so long as that lasts, and things go on as they now do, his condition is daily getting worse. By the Settlement Laws he cannot move from his parish to take his industry where it might thrive, and often, very often, when he really requires, and ought to have, immediate assistance, he is so puzzled by the difficulties of those laws that he is unable to discover where to apply for it. By the system of Allowance, the labourer is not rewarded according to his industry, and according to his character, but he is either reduced to unfairly low wages, or receives, as a charity from his parish, what should be paid him as the price of his work by his employer. There are, indeed, the married men with families, who seem to be better off under the Poor Laws; but even these, I think, a very little consideration will prove to be less so than they seem; for I would ask any of them, whether they had not rather receive ten shillings a week for their own earnings, than have twelve or thirteen doled out by the vestry? The value of money is only known to him who has obtained it by his own exertions; "lightly come, lightly go," is a proverb of which we all know the truth, and he who, in careless security, can reckon upon a certain sum being weekly made up to him from the Rates, will never be so rich a man, never make his money go so far, and never enjoy it so much, as he who, with something less to spend, has the feeling of independence, and the carefulness, which the necessity of reliance upon himself alone must produce.

But even if no man could, on account of the number of his children, claim allowance from his parish, would the labourer, in reality, have less money to spend • Would not his friends and relations, whose earnings would then be increased, be

ready to assist him, if he required assistance? Would not his richer neighbours, whose means were greater from their rates being diminished, gladly, also, come forward to employ his family and raise his wages?

Undoubtedly this would be the case. The greatest advantage, however, would arise from the necessity there would then be for young people to consider before they married; and, as wages must then be according to a man's work, a single man would find himself so comfortably off with his wages, that he would wait till he could lay by something, as they do in the North of England and Scotland, to support a wife and family. Thus there would be fewer early thoughtless marriages, fewer children born, and fewer labourers in the parish, while each man's labour being fairly paid, each man would work his best, and so more produce would be got out of the ground, and all would have more to eat, and not such increasing numbers to divide it amongst.

It is not my object to make things out worse than they really are, or to cause men to think ill of the vestries, the overseers, or the magistrates. They only do what it is the duty of all of us to do—obey the laws; but my wish is to show that this law is not a good law for the poor, for whose benefit it is exclusively designed, and who, if it can be altered for the better, will benefit by such alteration more than any other class of our fellow-countrymen; that, in reality, it will do more good to those who are paid by the rates than to those who pay them; that our interests are the same, and that all should wish for a change of the present law of Settlement and Allowance. J. P. B.

ON CONTENTEDNESS.

Suppose thyself in as great sadness, as ever did load thy spirit; wouldst thou not bear it nobly and cheerfully, if thou wast sure that within a certain space, some excellent fortune would relieve thee, and enrich thee, and recompense thee so as to overflow all thy hopes, and desires, and capacities! Now, then, when a sadness lies heavy upon thee, Remember, that thou art a Christian, designed to the inheritance of Jesus.

Or have they taken all from me! What now' let me look about me: they have left me the Sun, and the Moon, fire and water, a loving wife, and many friends to pity me, and some to relieve me; and I can still discourse; and, unless I list, they have not taken away my merry countenance, and my cheerful spirit, and a good conscience: they still have left me the providence of God, and all the promises of the Gospel, and my religion, and my hopes of heaven, and my charity to them too; and still I sleep and digest, I eat and drink, I read and meditate, I can walk in my neighbour's pleasant fields, and see the varieties of natural beauties, and delight in all that in which God delights, that is, in virtue and wisdom, in the whole creation, and in God himself. And he that hath so many causes of joy, and so great, is very much in love with sorrow and peevishness, who loses all these pleasures, and chooses to sit down upon his little handful of thorns. Jeremy Taylor.

Nothing hardens the heart more effectually than literary trifling upon religious subjects. Where all is theory or scholarship the conscience is untouched. Milner.

"ever" is a word much on the lips, but little in the head or heart. The fashion of this world, its joys and its sorrows pass away like the winged breeze;—there is nought for ever,

but that which belongs to the world beyond tha grave.

Scott.

"A Quarter Before." Industry is of little avail without punctuality,—a habit of verv easy acquirement; on this jewel the whole machinery of successful industry may be said to turn. When Lord Nelson was leaving London on his last and glorious expedition against the enemy, a quantity of cabin-furniture was ordered to be sent on board his ship. He had a farewell dinner-party at his house; and the upholsterer having waited upon his lordship, with an account of the completion of the goods, he was brought into the dining-room, in a corner of which his lordship spoke with him. The upholsterer stated to his noble employer, that every thing was finished and packed, and would go in the waggon from a certain inn at six o'clock. "And you go to the inn, Mr. A., and see them off." "I shall, my lord, I shall lie there punctually at six o'clock;" "A quarter before six, Mr. A." returned Lord Nelson; "be there a quarter before; to that quarter of an hour I owe every thing in life."

Though the real end of our studies is not to exalt ourselves above others, yet our profiting in our studies as in other things, ought to appear to all men.

Every branch of knowledge which a good man possesses, he may apply to some good purpose

If you wish to do honour to your piety, you cannot be too careful to render it sweet and simple, affable and social. Fenelon.

God is sometimes slow in punishing the wicked, in order to teach us mortals a lesson of moderation; to repress that vehemence and precipitation with which wo are sometimes impelled to avenge ourselves on those that offend us in the first heat of our passion, immediately and immoderately; and to induce us to imitate that mildness, patience, and forbearance, which He is often so merciful as to exercise towards those that have incurred his displeasure. Plutarch.

SIGNS OF RAIN.

Forty Reasons for not accepting the invitation of a

friend to make an excursion with him.

By the late Dr. JENNER, the discoverer of Vaccination.

;. 1 The hollow winds begin to blow,

? The clouds look black, the glass is low;

3 The soot falls down, the spaniels sleep,

4 And spiders from their cobwebs peep:

5 Last night the Sun went pale to bed,

6 The Moon in haloes hid her head;

7 The boding Shepherd heaves a sigh,

8 For see a rainbow spans the sky:

9 The walls are damp, the ditches smell.

10 Closed is the pink-eyed pimpernel

11 Hark how the chairs and tables crack,

12 Old Betty's joints are on the rack;

13 Loud quack the ducks, the peacocks cry ,

14 The distant hills are seeming nigh.

15 How restless are the snorting swine,

16 The busy flies disturb the kine;

17 Low o'er the grass the swallow wings,

18 The cricket, too, how sharp he sings;

19 Puss on the hearth, with velvet paws,

20 Sits wiping o'er her whisker'd jaws.

21 Thro' the clear stream the fishes rise,

22 And nimbly catch th' incautious flies.

23 The glow-worms, numerous and bright,

24 Illumed the dewy dell last night.

25 At dusk the squalid toad was seen,

26 Hopping and crawling o'er the green ,

27 The whirling wind the dust obeys,

28 And in the rapid eddy plays;

29 The frog has changed his yellow vest,

30 And in a russet coat is drest.

31 Though June, the air is cold and still,

32 The mellow blackbird's voice is shrill.

33 My dog, so altcr'd in his taste,

34 Quits mutton-bones on grass to feast;

35 And see yon rooks, how odd their flight,

36 They imitate the gliding kite,

37 And seem precipitate to fall,

38 As ir they felt the piercing ball.

39 'Twill surely rain, I see, with sorrow;

40 Our jaunt must be put off to-morrow.

ANNIVERSARIES FOR JUNE. MONDAY, 17th. St. Alban.—This Saint is also called the Engli* St. Stephen, and the English Protomartyr, being the first who suffered that fate in this country. He was born of Pagan parents near St. Alban's, but went to Koine at an early age, and served in the armies of the Emperor Dioclesian. The story both of his conversion and of hi* martyrdom are so obscute, and disfigured by monkish miracles, that nothing seems clear, except that he was beheaded in 303. The fame, however, of St. Alban, blazoned as it was 400 years after, by the Venerable Bede, made a deep impression on the superstitious; and OfFa, King of the Mercians, dedicated a monastery to him near Vetulam, in Hertfordshire, since called St. Alban's, the magnificent church of which still exists, though in such a very ruinous state, that a public subscription for its repair has been opened.

This day the Long Vacation begins. 1688 The Archbishop of Canterbury, together with the Bishops of St. Asaph, Bath and Wells, Elu, Peterborough, Chichester, and Bristol, were committed to the Tower by King James II. for presenting a petition against one of his Papistical ordinances. They were tried in Westminster Hall and acquitted, to the unbounded joy of the whole people of England. 1719 Died Joseph Addison, one of the most elegant and accomplished of our prose writers. On his death-bed he sent for his son-in-law and ward, Lord Warwick, who was rather dissipated, and somewhat inclined to infidelity, that he eight "see in what peace a Christian could die." 1775 Battle of Bunker's Hill, near Boston, the first battle of the American war.

TUESDAY, 18th. 1765 The Island of Otaheite first discovered by Commodore Byron.

1814 Alexander I., Emperor af Russia, Frederick III., King of

Prussia, Marshal.Blucher, Platoff, Hettman of the Cossacks, and other distinguished foreigners, entertained by the City of London, at a magnificent Festival in Guildhall.

1815 Was fought the Battle of Waterloo. 1817 Waterloo Bridge opened.

WEDNESDAY, 19th.

1215 The signature of Magna Charta was wrung from King Jobn. by Robert Fitz-Walter, and the confederated Barons, at Runnymede, a meadow near Windsor.

1707 Died, in the fifty-sixth year of his age, the learned and pious William Sherlock, Dean of St. Paul's and Master of the Temple, Authoi of two excellent practical books on Deatii and the Last Judgment.

1798 Buonaparte set sail from Toulon, on his expedition to Egypt.

1820 Died, at his house, in Soho-square, Sir Joseph Banks, K. B., President of the Royal Society; a gentleman, who, from his earliest years, had dedicated not only his fortune, but his personal labours, to the advancement of natural science. He accompanied Captain Cook in his first voyage round the world, and afterwards went to Iceland. THURSDAY, 20th.

1756 The City and Fortress of Calcutta were stormed by an immense army, under Surajali Dowlah, and 150 of the garrison, and several gentlemen of the Presidency, who had survived the storm, were thrust into a strong dungeon, only eighteen feet by fourteen, and receiving no air but from two small holes, barricaded with iron bars. The history of that night is one of the most pathetic records of human suffering in existence :—most of the prisoners died raving mad;—in the morning two-and-trtenty only were found just alive, and received some attention to revive them. This is the dreadful catastrophe which is alluded to when persons speak of the Black Hole, or the Black Hole of Calcutta.

1814 Peace with France proclaimed with all the pomp of heralds, guards, trumpets, &c. in various parts of London. At Temple Bar the gates were closed, and one of the Heralds knocking thereat, was admitted and led to the Lord Mayor, to whom he exhibited the Royal Commission ; whereupon the gates were opened, and the procession passed through. FRIDAY, 21st.

The Longest Day.—At sixteen minutes after five in the afternoon,

the Sun enters Cancer, and the summer season commences.

1652 Died lnigo Jones, the celebrated architect. He was of poor parentage, and brought up a carpenter. The Piazza of Covent Garden and the magnificent Banqueting House, now called Whitehall Chapel, are nearly all the existing remains of ha works in London.

1675 The first stone of St. Paul's Cathedral was laid with great pomp and ceremony by Sir Christopher W ren, the Architect, in presence of the Bishop of London, &c. It is singular that this superb temple, which cost a millibn of money, was finished in forty-seven years, was built under one prelate, Bishop Compton, by one architect, Sir Christopher Wren, and one mason, Mr. Strong; while St. Peter's, at Rome, occupied 145 years in building, lasting out twenty popes, and architects innumerable; among whom may be mentioned Raphael, Michael Angelo, and Bramante. SATURDAY, 22nd.

1535 John Fisher, Bishop of Rochester, cruelly executed for not acknowledging the supremacy of Henry VIII. SUNDAY, 23rd.

Tninn Sunday After Tiunity.

1798 A dreadful and bloody rebellion broke out in Ireland.

LONDON:

Published ixWnnr Ncmbers. Price One Penny, And In Monthly PaEtj,

Prick Sixpence, By

JOHN WILLIAM PARKER, WEST STRAND

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UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE COMMITTEE OF GENERAL LITERATURE AND EDUCATION, APPOINTED BY THE SOCIETY FOR PROMOTING CHRISTIAN KNOWLEDGE.

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ST. GEORGES CHAPEL, WINDSOR.

The ancient town of Windsor abounds in objects worthy of notice. The Saxon derivation of the word, the Winding-shore of Father Thames, must occur to the minds of many as they approach it; and those who are acquainted with English history, cannot but feel a deep interest in viewing the stately old Castle, once the dwelling of the early English kings, and the favourite residence of some of their successors, as well as in contemplating the venerable chapel, within whose walls many of royal blood have found a resting-place.

To this last-mentioned structure, the Chapel of St. George, we would now call the attention of our readers j and we will begin with the Choir, that part of the building being represented in the woodengraving. Here divine service is regularly performed; and here the Knights of the Garter are installed. The stalls, or seats of the Sovereign, and of the several members of the order of the Garter, are ranged along the sides of the choir. These are richly carved in wood, and at the back of them are copper plates, gilt and coloured, containing the names, titles, and arms of the noble persons by whom they have been, and now are filled. The mantle, helmet, crest, and sword of each knight, are placed on the canopies over their respective stalls, and above the canopies are displayed the banners or arms of the knights, emblazoned on flags of silk. There are at present forty-two of these banners, the Sovereign's banner being of fine velvet, and larger than those of the Knights; his stall is under the organ, immediately on the right in entering the choir.

The roof of the choir, which is very beautiful, was built in 1508, when the florid and highly-ornamented style of architecture was in use; and it is enriched with the rose, the portcullis, and the royal arms of that period, as well as those of various distinguished families, and of Sir Reginald Bray, minister to Henry the Seventh, and a liberal contributor to the erection of the chapel.

The great east window is a modern work, from a design, representing the Resurrection, by West. The same artist has also supplied, over the communiontable, a painting of the Last Supper; in which the countenance of Judas, turned from the group towards the spectator, possesses a terrible malignity of expression. On the north of the communiontable is a most curious piece of work of wrought steel, in the form of a pair of gates, between two towers, executed, as it is reported, by the famous Quentin Matsys, the blacksmith of Antwerp, who afterwards became an eminent painter..

In the reign of Henry the First, a small chapel, dedicated to Edward the Confessor, in which the king had placed eight secular priests, stood on the spot now occupied by St. George's Chapel; and in the park was a royal chapel, for thirteen chaplains and four clerks. King Edward the Third removed these chaplains and clerks out of the park into the castle, and added to their number. But that mighty prince, wishing to raise Windsor, the place of his birth, to still higher splendour, re-founded and built afresh this ?jncient chapel royal. The mode of obtaining- workmen for the purpose in those times justly appears "♦•-angc and harsh at the present day. For the builuing of Windsor Castle, as well as of this chapel, a person was appointed to manage the works, who had the power of impressing artificers and labourers, and of employing them, even though it were against their will. We are told, that in the course of this very work some of the men left the place, in consequence of an infectious disorder pre

vailing among them; bnt they were compelled to return, and to labour for less pay than they could have got elsewhere. Shortly before this, Edward the Third had instituted the "Most Honourable and Noble Order of the Garter," the first installation of which took place on St. George's day, 1349, that Saint having been appointed the patron of the order, as well as of the chapel. The building was much enlarged and improved by Edward the Fourth and Henry the Seventh ; and, during the reign of George the Third, underwent an entire repair, at an expense of upwards of 20,000/.

On approaching the nave by the usual entrance of the south door, the spectator is struck with the grandeur as well as grace of the pillars, the beauty of the roof, and of the rich west window. The latter is one of the most perfect and pleasing specimens of ancient stained glass we have ever seen; and, when sparkling in the sun with the brilliancy of jewels, it puts to shame the efforts of modern skill which appear in the cast and west windows of the south aisle, and in the west window of the north aisle. The screen is of modern erection, formed of Coade's artificial stone.

In the north aisle are many interesting monuments; among them, on the ground, on a black marble slab, is that of " King Edward the Fourth and his queen, Elizabeth WidvilL" Near to this is a simple but elegant tablet, to the memory of Louise, Duchess of Saxe Weimar, her majesty's niece, who died last year at Windsor, at the age of sixteen. I In the south aisle is a large flat grave-stone, under which was placed the body of the unfortunate Henry the Sixth after its removal from Chertsey Abbey. It bears the simple inscription "Henry VI." Pope alludes to the affecting circumstance of this monarch, and his powerful rival Edward the Fourth, becoming such near neighbours after death;

"The grave unites; where e'en the great find rest. And blended lie th oppressor and th' oppress'd."

Some fine monuments in excellent preservation are found in small chapels and-chantries, which are divided from the nave and the aisles, by stone screens. Nearer the south door is Bray Chapel, so called from Sir R. Bray, whose crest, a machine anciently used for breaking hemp, occurs repeatedly as an ornament. Here, among other monumental figures, is one, well carved, of Bishop Brideoak in the reign of Charles the Second.

At the east end of the south aisle is Lincoln Chapel, containing the magnificent tomb of the Earl of Lincoln, Lord High Admiral in the time of Elizabeth.

Rutland Chapel, in the centre of the north aisle, contains several interesting monuments, particularly one in the middle to the memory of Sir. G. Manners Lord Roos, and Lady Ann his wife, niece of Edward the Fourth.

Besides these Chapels, there are Hastings, Aidworth, and Beaufort Chapels, which received their names from the persons interred within their walls. The last mentioned is perhaps the most worthy of observation. A spacious tomb, enclosed within a screen of strong brasswork, gilt, supports the figures of Charles Earl of Worcester, and Elizabeth his wife, of the time of King Henry the Seventh, both splendidly apparelled.

Opposite to Beaufort Chapel, and at the west end of the north aisle, is a monument which, above all others in the place, claims the attention of every visiter to St George's Chapel, and indeed may be considered, in reference to the event it records, one of the most affecting memorials that this country can produce. The cenotaph of the lamented Princess Charlotte occupies the space formerly called

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