[346] Of the bibliomaniacal spirit of Lord Lumley the reader has already had some slight mention made at pages [273], [281], ante. Of Henry Hastings, Gilpin has furnished us with some anecdotes which deserve to be here recorded. They are taken from Hutchin's Hist. of Dorsetshire, vol. ii., p. 63. "Mr. Hastings was low of stature, but strong and active, of a ruddy complexion, with flaxen hair. His cloaths were always of green cloth. His house was of the old fashion; in the midst of a large park, well stocked with deer, rabbits, and fish-ponds. He had a long narrow bowling green in it, and used to play with round sand bowls. Here too he had a banquetting room built, like a stand in a large tree. He kept all sorts of hounds, that ran buck, fox, hare, otter, and badger; and had hawks of all kinds, both long and short winged. His great hall was commonly strewed with marrow-bones, and full of hawk-perches, hounds, spaniels, and terriers. The upper end of it was hung with fox-skins of this and the last year's killing. Here and there a pole-cat was intermixed, and hunter's poles in great abundance. The parlour was a large room, completely furnished in the same style. On a broad hearth, paved with brick, lay some of the choicest terriers, hounds, and spaniels. One or two of the great chairs had litters of cats in them, which were not to be disturbed. Of these, three or four always attended him at dinner, and a little white wand lay by his trencher, to defend it, if they were too troublesome. In the windows, which were very large, lay his arrows, cross-bows, and other accoutrements. The corners of the room were filled with his best hunting and hawking poles. His oyster table stood at the lower end of the room, which was in constant use twice a day, all the year round; for he never failed to eat oysters both at dinner and supper, with which the neighbouring town of Pool supplied him. At the upper end of the room stood a small table with a double desk; one side of which held a Church Bible: the other the Book of Martyrs. On different tables in the room lay hawks'-hoods, bells, old hats, with their crowns thrust in, full of pheasant eggs, tables, dice, cards, and store of tobacco pipes. At one end of this room was a door, which opened into a closet, where stood bottles of strong beer and wine; which never came out but in single glasses, which was the rule of the house, for he never exceeded himself, nor permitted others to exceed. Answering to this closet was a door into an old chapel; which had been long disused for devotion; but in the pulpit, as the safest place, was always to be found a cold chine of beef, a venison pasty, a gammon of bacon, or a great apple-pye, with thick crust, well baked. His table cost him not much, though it was good to eat at. His sports supplied all but beef and mutton, except on Fridays, when he had the best of fish. He never wanted a London pudding, and he always sang it in with "My part lies therein-a." He drank a glass or two of wine at meals; put syrup of gilly-flowers into his sack, and had always a tun glass of small beer standing by him, which he often stirred about with rosemary. He lived to be an hundred, and never lost his eyesight, nor used spectacles. He got on horseback without help, and rode to the death of the stag till he was past fourscore." Gilpin's Forest Scenery, vol. ii., pp. 23, 26. I should add, from the same authority, that Hastings was a neighbour of Anthony Ashley Cooper, Earl of Shaftesbury, with whom (as was likely enough) he had no cordial agreement.

[347] "In the northern chapel which is parted from the side aile by a beautiful open Gothic screen, is a handsome monument to the memory of the lord Chancellor Wriothesly, and a large and costly standing chest, carved and inlaid, and stated, by an inscription on its front, to have been given, with the books in it, by John Clungeon. The inscription is as follows:

"John, the sonne of John Clungeon of this towne, Alderman, erected this
presse and gave certain books, who died, anno 1646.

"The books are, however, now gone, and the surplices, &c. are kept in the chest." See a tasteful and elegantly printed little volume, entitled "A Walk through Southampton;" by Sir H.C. Englefield, Bart. 1801, 8vo., p. 64.

[348] Ward is described by Hearne as being "a citizen and vintner of London," and "a lover of antiquity's." He had a copy of the Chartulary of Dunstaple, in MS., which was put by Wanley into the Harleian collection. The following entry is too much of a characteristic trait, not to be gratifying to the palate of a thorough bred bibliomaniac; it relates to the said Chartulary:—"also this vellum, at both ends of the booke, was then added, put in, and inserted, at the costs of the said Mr. (John) Ward, in the said yeare of our Lord, 1655,

s.d.
binding and claspes400
vellum400"

Annals of Dunstaple Priory, vol. i., p. xxx., note.

Lis. If Master Cox, "by profession a mason," and living in the country, could have collected such a cabinet of romances and ballads—why should not a wine merchant, living in the metropolis, have turned his attention to a similar pursuit, and have been even more successful in the objects of it?

Phil. I know not; particularly as we have, at the present day, some commercial characters—whose dealings in trade are as opposite to books as frogs are to roast beef—absolute madmen in search after black-letter, large paper, and uncut copies! But proceed, Lysander.

Lysand. Such was the influence of the Book Mania about, or rather a little before, this period that even the sacred retirement of a monastery, established upon Protestant principles, and conducted by rules so rigid as almost to frighten the hardiest ascetic, even such a spot was unable to resist the charms of book-collecting and book-embellishment. How St. Jerome or St. Austin would have lashed the Ferrar Family[349] for the gorgeous decorations of their volumes, and for devoting so much precious time and painful attention to the art and mystery of Book-binding! Yes, Lisardo; it is truly curious to think upon the Little Gidding Monastery—near which, perhaps, were