remains, is allowed to disfigure the smooth
surface of the grass. A heavy roller after
that time passes over it, The solemn little
heap is levelled and turfed over, and the last
trace of the Poor Brother is wiped away. A
few smoke-soiled votive tablets fixed against
the wall which separates this graveyard from
"Wilderness Row," are the only memorials
left of the dead. There is a level green,
broken at this moment by a little cluster of
three graves, upon which the mould lies
fresh. In the present year, one of the most
eminent booksellers and publishers of his own
younger time, who had given to the literary
world upwards of two hundred and fifteen
volumes in Greek, Latin, Hebrew, and Italian,
and ninety-five in English Classics and
Divinity, was buried here as a Poor Brother,
and after six weeks had the roller passed over
his grave. Certain rooms of the Brothers
open on this graveyard; and they who reside
in them find other evidence than hillocks
furnish of the multitude of bodies therein
buried.

The ancient gentleman who has obtained
the privilege of admission as Poor Brother of
the Charterhouse, finds a great deal to wound
his feelings, or his prejudices, in all this.
Prejudices they are, which it is commonly
accounted gentle and becoming to respect. The
old fellow is told that a portion of this
cemetery, consecrated not very many years
ago, was formerly a garden for the supply of
vegetables to the foundation. These
vegetables the Master had found so convenient to
his private kitchen, that, when the garden was
converted into a cemetery, there was accorded
to him, in addition to his spacious house, and
his luxurious dinners in Brooke Hall, and his
eight hundred pounds a-year, twenty-five
pounds a-year — a Brother's pension — as
consolation for the cabbages of which he was
deprived.

A gate in a strong iron railing leads from
the graveyard to the wilderness. This wilderness
is described in an old tract of the year
1707, called " A Trip to the Charterhouse,
or the Wilderness Intrigue," as " a small, yet
complete little flower-garden, formed of shady
walks and choice parterres, and adorned with
some very rare trees, and shrubs, which we
must confess have but a dingy hue.
Notwithstanding, there are not many such gardens in
London." It was a plot covering about three
acres, designed for the recreation of the
patriarchs. The ancient gentleman, finding the
gate locked, is informed that it is now called
"The Master's Gardens," and that Poor
Brothers are intruders there, except when
the boys are gone home for the holidays, and
the officials are out of town.

The ancient gentleman begins now to
discover that the Charterhouse is intended for
the consolation of officials, and that the
Poor Brothers are simply the discomfort of
the place; which otherwise provides good
salaries, and dwellings, and dinners, and daily
pints of wine to the gentlemen and ladies who
are really fed upon its funds. The Poor
Brother's pint of wine comes once a-year.
The Poor Brother of the Charterhouse is, in.
fact, a bore.

Our gentleman, however, takes possession
of his room. The infirm old fellow, waited
upon somewhat cavalierly by the eighth part
of a nurse during a third part of the day,
grows restless at the sight of men-servants and
maid-servants about the squares. Not counting
the men at all, he discovers that three
female servants wait on the Master, three on
the registrar, five on the preacher, two on the
reader, four on the schoolmaster, four on the
usher — and he thinks, therefore, that with very
close economy, the rich endowment of the
Charterhouse might possibly afford him
something larger than the twenty-fourth part
of a woman's care.

The old gentleman having taken possession
of his rooms, brought in his own sheets, and
gone to bed between them, finds that there is a
bell ringing him to matins at nine o'clock. The
same bell ringing for dinner at a quarter
before three makes a pleasant music. Then at
seven the bell rings again for prayers—
vespers — and at eight o'clock in winter
evenings, at nine in summer, it rings a curfew
to call all the Brothers home. This curfew
tolls exactly eighty times when the Poor
Brothers' places are all filled. When there is
one dead, one stroke is deducted till his place
has been supplied. The number of pulls
made at any time in the last tolling is always
adapted to the number of Poor Brothers
then on the foundation. Our old friend,
being very deaf, thinks it not worth his while
to go to chapel; so he takes a walk after
having breakfasted on bread and butter, and
goes abroad to buy himself some sugar and
some tea. As he goes in and out he observes
that his outgoing and incoming are chronicled
at the gate, by the porter, for the information
of the officials. He pays a visit to a friend,
and, coming home, is duly reminded that he
must put on his livery-cloak when he goes
into the hall for dinner. When he has dined,
he pays a visit to the notice-board, and is
startled to perceive that he is in debt threepence
to the Charterhouse, for having staid
away from chapel. The notice-board, among
a number of Musts, by which he is somewhat
offensively reminded of the humility of his
position, informs him that for absence from
chapel on a week-day he has threepence to
pay; and if the day be Christmas-day, or one
of the great days of Christian celebration, the
fine upon the ancient gentleman is adjusted
to the religious character of the occasion, and
becomes a shilling. An old gentleman offers
the new Brother a contribution from his
personal experience, and says, that being
completely deaf he has not heard the service now
for twenty years, though he has paid daily
attendance at the chapel, because there is a
porter there who ticks off from a list the