burial-ground was consecrated on the 12th of June, 1840, and extends from the Fulham Road to what is called, generally, "Sir John Scott Lillie's Road," and sometimes "Brompton Lane Road," which, in fact, is a continuation, to North End, Fulham, of the line of the Old Brompton Road, -the point, as the reader may recollect, that we turned off from at -the Bell and Horns, in order to follow the main Fulham road to Little Chelsea. The public way on the east of the burial-ground is called Honey Lane, and on the west the boundary is the pathway by the side of the Kensington Canal. The architect of the chapel and catacombs is Mr. Benjamin Baud. And the cemetery is open for public inspection, free of charge, from seven in the morning till sunset, except on Sundays, when it is closed till one o'clock. The first interment was on E the 18th of June, 1840, from which time, to the 22d of November, there were thirty-four burials, the average number being then four per week. It is scarcely necessary to add, that a considerable average increase has taken place; but the first step in statistics is always curious.

2

The two most interesting instances of longevity which the brief annals of the West of London and Westminster Cemetery Company present occur on a stone in the north-east corner of the burial-ground, where the age recorded of Louis Pouchée is 108; but this does not agree with the burial entry made by the Rev. Stephen Reid Catley:-"Louis Pouchée, of St. Martin's in the Fields, viz., 40 Castle Street, Leicester Square, buried Feb. 21, 1843, aged 107."

This musical patriarch, however, according to a statement in the Medical Times, was admitted as a patient to St. George's Hospital November 24, 1842. January 4, went out, and died, about three months afterwards, of diarrhoea and dysen

terv.

The other instance of longevity, though not so extraordinary, is one which cannot be contemplated without feeling how much influence the consciousness of honest industry in the human mind has upon the health

Mr. Nicholson originally practised as a portrait-painter, but the simplicity and uprightness of his heart did not permit him to tolerate or pander to the vanities of man (and woman) kind. To flatter was with him an utter impossibility; and, as he could not invariably consider the "human face divine," he was incapable of assuming the courtly manners so essential in that branch of the profession. He never, indeed, quite forgave himself for an approach to duplicity committed at this time upon an unfortunate gentleman, who sat to him for his portrait, and who squinted so desperately, that in order to gain a likeness it was necessary to copy moderately the defect.

The

poor man, it seemed, perfectly unconscious of the same, on being invited to inspect the performance, looked in silence upon it a few moments, and, with rather a disappointed air, said,

"I don't know-it seems to medoes it squint?"

"Squint!" replied Nicholson, "no more than you do."

"Really! well, you know best, of course; but I declare I fancied there

and happiness of the body. The was a queer look about it!"

No. 276, vol. xi. p. 301.

The opening of the Water-Colour Exhibition, in 1805, may be dated as the commencement of Mr. Nicholson's fame and success in London.

In conjunction with Glover, Varley,
Prout, and others, an advance in the
art of water colour painting was
made, such as to astonish and call
forth the admiration of the public.
The next step after admiring was the
wish to imitate the works of these
artists, and, for some years after, their
doors were beset and the streets where
they resided thronged with the car-
riages of the nobility and gentry. It
became an absolute rage among ladies
to profess landscape- painting, and
they eagerly paid their guinea an
hour for the privilege of witnessing
the progress of a picture by their
favourite professor. To such a de-
gree was this mania carried, that
every hour of daylight was devoted
to this easy and lucrative employ-
ment; and the more difficulty there
was found in obtaining admission,
the greater, of course, became the
anxiety to gain it. No time was too
early, no hour too late, for receiving
what was called a lesson. It may be
remembered by one lady (should this
meet her eye) that, on applying to
know the hours Mr. Nicholson had
to spare, she was told the only one
vacant was at eight o'clock in the
morning, twice a week.
"Oh,"

she exclaimed, "that is quite impossible; I never get to bed before four or five in the morning!" Finding, however, that there was no alternative, and resistless Fashion ordaining that she should be a pupil of Nicholson, she actually used to be roused from her first slumbers, and, in an elegant déshabillé nightcap, and with hair in papillotte, repair to Charlotte Street at the hour specified. It is true she yawned much during the period of the visit, but at nine o'clock her

carriage fetched her home to resume her broken night's rest, and to obtain

the requisite energy for commencing the dissipations of the day, and with comfortable reflection of being a pupil

of Nicholson.

Although giving in to the folly of the day (as this may justly be termed), for none but a fine lady could expect to learn any thing without practice, yet, when called upon to instruct

them was proverbially liberal. He freely lent them drawings to copy, and his hours to them were as rigidly devoted as to what he termed his "guinea fowl." If he knew or suspected any paucity of means in the pupil, he would playfully, on taking leave, say, "There, there, go away, and see if I have done you any good before you talk of payment!" professing afterwards to have no sort of recollection of the matter.

An amusing scene took place about the time that Mr. Nicholson was in the zenith of his professional popularity. A well-known artist, and one in considerable practice in London, came to him under a feigned name to receive lessons. The unsus pecting master very soon discovered, by the nature of the questions put by his élève, that he knew far more of art than he was willing to own, and on his second or third visit he turned suddenly round to face the pretended Mr. Roberts, saying very quietly, "Sir, you are no gentleman."

No gentleman," repeated the other, reddening; "what do you mean, sir ?" "Just what I say," replied Nicholson; "there is no gentleman living who could put such questions as you have done. You are an artist, sir; and no bad one either." Whether the compliment acted as a salvo may be guessed, but it is cer tain they became and remained for some years on the most friendly terms, generally dining together after a very long lesson, and alternately at each other's houses. It was acci dently discovered that the ci-decant Mrs. Roberts was hummed into a belief that Nicholson was receiving instructions from her husband, whom she had been accustomed to consider the cleverest man on earth, and she was bound to secrecy, as it would be painful to poor Nicholson to have it known that he was being taught.

It was frequently a subject of sur prise to his friends that one who had so indefatigably and successfully stu died nature should feel so little delight in a country life. His anxiety to leave the most romantic scenery commenced the instant he had pos sessed himself of its features. He would account for this by saying, that for many years of his early life, being

rising artists or country drawing- hampered by a young family, he

masters, Mr. Nicholson's conduct to

feared the risk of establishing him

self in London, where still he felt he could alone make his way; and so deeply did he experience uneasiness on this head, that to his latest hour, whenever he had a troublesome dream, it was with reference to this feeling. Long after he had been permanently settled in London, he would come down some mornings, saying, "Oh, I have had a wretched night; I have been detained in the country all night, and could not get away!" To such an extent had this idea seized him, that he would say there was "no garden so pleasant as the sunny side of Oxford Street." And to one of his grandsons, who found it difficult to believe he did not like gardening, he observed, "No, my boy, I never liked digging, for I could not bear to cut the worms with my spade." The foregrounds of many of his pictures, nevertheless, prove that he was accurately acquainted with, and fond of, delineating flowers and weeds.

Under such impressions as these, it may be believed Mr. Nicholson was not a little surprised one day, whilst quietly devoting his weekly hour to some fine lady, when she remarked to him how unfavourable the late rainy weather had been for him. "How so?" he inquired. "I mean for your walk," said the lady.

"My walk, madam! I have no time for walking."

"Oh, but I mean your daily walk, you know."

"I have not been out of this house these three months," said he.

"Dear me!" cried the lady, "I was assured that you made a point of going every morning across the fields to Hampstead, and that, let the weather be what it may, you never failed to lay your hand upon a certain gate at the rise of the hill."

passionately fond of fishing, and he has been heard to say in after-life that he never at any time looked on water, even to wash his hands, without thinking of fish; and, although of a delicate constitution, and at thirty years of age pronounced to be in a consumption, yet he would not hesitate to stand for hours up to the middle in a trout stream (for all but fly-fishing he counted very paltry sport); yet this "imprudent," "consumptive" young man, by means of a temperate way of life, a sweet disposition, and temper not easily ruffled, attained his ninety-first year without many fits of illness, and in the entire possession of every faculty except that of hearing, which was during the last few years of his life considerably impaired, and which was probably a source of the greatest discomfort he ever knew, his love of music being so intense, that, even after he had ceased to hear perfectly, he still attended the ancient and other concerts, where his face became as familiar as that of the door-keeper.

This was one of the many tales circulated, some of them of a less innocent tendency; for instance, when it was asserted, after his settling in London, that he was "very clever, but so inveterate a drunkard as to be totally lost." At that time Mr. Nicholson rose daily at four in the morning to work, and even after daylight failed he fagged till bedtime; and a glass of ale was a luxury he cared little whether he took or not. In early youth Mr. Nicholson was

The last ten years of Mr. Nicholson's calm and peaceful life were devoted to the recreative enjoyment of his pencil, and during this period he covered the walls of his house with, perhaps, some of his best works. On his last and ninetieth birthday he was heard to say, "I am ninety years of age, certainly; but I am only fiveand-twenty in feeling, for I possess the same energy now as I then did in my profession-the same eagerness for daylight, that I may rise to work."

Within twenty-four hours of his death he observed the morning to be foggy and dark, adding, "But no matter, I could not paint to-day if the light was ever so good." His last moments were passed in his favourite painting - room, and he dropped to his happy sleep on the sofa where he had for some months previously taken his afternoon nap, surrounded by the pictures he had derived so much delight in executing. His pictures are to be seen in the collections of many lovers of art in this country, and could the whole of his works be brought together, or could a complete set now be procured of his lithographs (which are a prominent feature in the early history of that art in this country), they would respectively form an extraor

dinary exhibition of the combined power of genius and industry.

In a manuscript autobiography which Mr. Nicholson left behind him, and which is full of curious anecdotes, he gives the following account of the formation of the Society of Painters in Water-Colours :

Messrs. Hills and Pyne asked me to join in the attempt to establish such a society, which readily agreed to. It was a long time before a number of members sufficient to produce so many works as would be required to cover the walls of the exhibition room in Brook Street could be brought to join it. Artists were afraid they might suffer loss by renting and fitting up the room, the expense being certain and the success very doubtful. After a great while the society was formed, and, in the first and second exhibition, the sale of drawings was so considerable, and the visitors so numerous, that crowds of those who had refused to join were eager to be admitted into the society. They were told, as they had refused to take a part in the risk, they could not be permitted to share in the profit.

"However profitable it might be to some of the members," continues Mr. Nicholson, "it was ruinous to others, especially Gilpin and Smith; the former was in great practice as a drawing-master, being the son of Sawrey Gilpin the artist, and nephew to the Rev. William Gilpin, who made a figure at one time by what he wrote on landscape. By their assistance and the name, he had formed an extensive connexion, the greater part of which he lost by the exhibition of his wretched performances in Brook Street. The other, John Smith, commonly called Warwick Smith,' from having been sent to Rome by Lord Warwick. In a letter from Farrington, R.A. to my friend Colonel Machell, he says, 'Smith's drawings astonish the public; every one is fascinated by his colouring.' But the case was greatly altered, on the appearance of his works in Brook Street, by comparison with others. Francia, the artist, said to me, These cannot be by the Smith who has so high a reputation!' I assured him they were by no other; it was ill for him when the public expressed the same surprise as Francia had done. He could not alter his method of practice, and probably thought it beneath him to do so, or go on, like others, in the endeavour to give strength of effect and depth of colour; so he stood still and was soon left behind.

"Several years ago Smirke said to me, "You are attempting too much; drawing with water-colours can never bear a comparison with paintings in oil; the effect of light and shadow being made out, then lightly tinted, and not with positive colour.' This being nothing more than what was called stained drawing, the advice did no harm, and Mr. Smirke has had reason to change his opinion, after having seen many hundreds of pictures in water-colours, to which the best of his works in oil cannot be put in competi tion."

THE CHAPEL OF THE NORMAL SCHOOL

stands within the grounds of that establishment, on the side of the main Fulham road opposite to the Cemetery. The grounds extend to the King's Road, and contain about eleven acres, surrounded by a brick wall; and the entrance to the National Society's training college is from that road. Stanley House, or Stanley Grove House, which was purchased in 1840 for upwards of the upon 9000l. by the society, stood site of a house which Sir Arthur Gorges, the friend of Spenser, allegorically named by him Alcyon,* built for his own residence; and upon the death of whose first wife, a daughter of Viscount Bindon, in 1590, the poet wrote a beautiful elegy, entitled "Daphnaida." In the Sydney papers mention is made, under date 15th November, 1599, that," as the queen passed by the faire new building, Sir Arthur Gorges presented her He died in with a faire jewell." 1625; and by his widow, the daughter of the Earl of Lincoln, the house and adjacent land, then called the

* Todd's Spenser, viii. 23.

• MS.