Few towns or cities of England can boast of the rewards which await the pedestrian on every hand as, either in pursuit of pleasure or health; he wends his way either slowly up the hills, which environ the town or, less actively disposed, he saunters through the vale in which Cheltenham

stands as a bright jewel attached to a robe of velvet of the richest green. Truly there is nothing more tame and uninteresting, indeed we may say positively wearisome, as a long walk with no manner of object in view. We feel within ourselves a peculiar force, which, however we may strive against it reminds us that we should be continually engaged in some pursuit which is useful in the end. This secret monitor calls to us, in words not to be mistaken, to occupy ourselves; and plainly indicates that the time allotted to each one of us on earth is bounded by certain limits. That says in the words of the sacred penman, "Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might; for there is no work, nor device, nor knowledge, nor wisdom, in the grave whither thou goest." What is that demon which haunts the 'breast of the wearied voluptuary, who, exhausted in his mental and bodily energies, by indulgences granted in excess to the senses, tosses himself to and fro on his couch and longs for some fresh excitement to enable him to escape from himself? As language was given to us to express our ideas one to another, so has it been brought in how to aid in giving a name to this disease, which it has designated as ennui. Ennui! it is but another name for the stern voice of conscience or nature, or in other words the voice of God, which is reproving the sensualist for his gross perversions of the choicest of the Almighty's gifts; and for his frittering away those valuable moments, that directed towards fit objects, and employed with proper industry, would be the means of benefitting himself and his fellow-creatures, and of placing him in a better position to yield that dread ac

count which each and all of us will be called upon to give up at the last great day. His mind truly must be a vast desert who can not be interested by some of the many objects which abound in the vicinity of Cheltenham. Of the town itself we do not now speak, as that contains attractions within itself which would furnish subject matter for a copious volume. What we chiefly refer to, are the natural beauties blended with the mementos of past ages, which recall a long train of interesting historical associations, affording delight to the eye and food for the inquiring mind, sufficient to supply the Romerial for many an hour's instructive conversation, while the fireside is gladdened, during the dreary hours of the dark winter, by the smiles of dear friends and relations still more dear. Such thoughts as these have frequently forced themselves upon our mind amid the charming scenes, some of which have been faintly pourtrayed in the previous pages, but never more forcibly than on a recent visit to the "Cromlech."

The Cromlech may be approached by two ways, one across the fields which rise gradually from behind the village of Leckhampton; and the other by the turnpike road leading over Leckhampton hill to the lovely village of Birdlip. The former is the more agreeable to the pedestrian by reason of the pleasant footing which the grassy path affords; but the views commanded by each are inviting. If the turnpike road is taken, the visitor must continue his walk for about three miles from the town, leaving the stone quarries and that pile of rock on Leckhampton hill, known by the title of the "Devil's Chimney," on the left hand;

Immediately after these the summit of which having

and a little farther on some neat cottages and gardens on the right hand side of the road. ground rises rather abruptly, the been attained, a footpath to the right leads through some arable ground of W. E. Lawrence, Esq, of the Greenway, Shurdington, to the piece of land which is known by the name of the "Barrow Piece," the property of the same gentleman. It is in this piece of ground, just at the brow of the rising ground, that a considerable clump of trees growing around and upon a large sized tumulus or mound, mark the spot which is the object of interest. There is the "Cromlech," shrouded in a veil of mystery as to its origin, which it is idle to attempt to raise in such a manner as to afford a satisfactory gaze into the doings of past ages. We can only speculate, and reason from analogy as to why in that retired spot those ponderous stones, evidently placed with design and manifest intention, should have been originally brought to the place and occupy the position which they now do; and why such a spot should have been chosen for that mound of earth; whence the eye roving over the extended space, rests with delight on the beauteous prospect stretching far away to the right and left, where naught disturbs the calm but the bleating cattle or the cheerful peal from the village steeple; and where the mind, by the very quiet of the scene, is withdrawn from the cares and bustle of the world below and called to meditation. To use the words of a highly-gifted divine "it must be allowed just to join abstract reasonings with the observation of facts, and to argue from such facts as are known to others that

are like them." Pursuing then this plan, although we may not be enabled to discover the names or nature of those who were the builders of this land-mark-so to speak

of past ages; still we shall find sufficient to guide our opinion in describing the object for which it was commenced and finished, as well as the character of the builders of it. And at this stage of our inquiry, we cannot forbear giving the words of an old antiquary of the seventeenth century, which appear to be most applicable to the subject in hand, as well as to other inquiries of a similar nature contained in these pages. The quotation is from Peter Langtoft's Chronicle, printed in the year 1660, "A wander wit of Wiltshire, rambling to Rome to gaze at antiquities, and screwing himself into the company of antiquaries, they intreated him to illustrate unto them that famous monument in his county called Stonage (Stonehenge). His answer was, he had never seen, scarce heard of it: whereupon they kicked him out of doors, and bade him go home and see Stonage. And I wish all such sopical cocks, as slight these admired stones, and other our domestic monuments (by which they might be admonished to eschew some evil or do some good), and scrape for barley corns of vanity out of foreign dunghills, might be handled, or rather footed, as he was. If I had been in his place I should have been apt to have told them that surely it was some heathenish temple demolished by the immediate hand of God, as an intolerable abomination unto him: yet reserving so much of it standing as may declare what the whole was, and how and why so destroyed. That as we are to remember Lot's wife,