which were copied from the
tomb of Bishop William de Luda, in Ely Cathedral--let us glance at the
chapel, and then a word or two about Walpole's neighbours and anent
Twickenham.

The front of the chapel was copied from Bishop Audley's tomb at
Salisbury. Four panels of wood, taken from the Abbey of St. Edmund's
Bury, displayed the portraits of Cardinal Beaufort, of Humphrey Duke of
Gloucester, and of Archbishop Kemp. So much for the English church.

Next was seen a magnificent shrine in mosaic, from the church of St.
Mary Maggiore, in Rome. This was the work of the noted Peter Cavalini,
who constructed the tomb of Edward the Confessor in Westminster Abbey.
The shrine had figured over the sepulchre of four martyrs, who rested
between it in 1257: then the principal window in the chapel was brought
from Bexhill in Sussex; and displayed portraits of Henry III. and his
queen.

It was not every day that gay visitors travelled down the dusty roads
from London to visit the recluse at Strawberry: but Horace wanted them
not, for he had neighbours. In his youth he had owned for his playfellow
the ever witty, the precocious, the all-fascinating Lady Mary Wortley
Montagu. 'She was,' he wrote, 'a playfellow of mine when we were
children. She was always a dirty little thing. This habit continued with
her. When at Florence, the Grand Duke gave her apartments in his palace.
One room sufficed for everything; and when she went away, the stench was
so strong that they were obliged to fumigate the chamber with vinegar
for a week.'

Let not the scandal be implicitly credited. Lady Mary, dirty or clean,
resided occasionally, however, at Twickenham. When the admirable Lysons
composed his 'Environs of London,' Horace Walpole was still living--it
was in 1795--to point out to him the house in which his brilliant
acquaintance lived. It was then inhabited by Dr. Morton. The profligate
and clever Duke of Wharton lived also at Twickenham.

Marble Hill was built by George II, for the countess of Suffolk, and
Henry, Earl of Pembroke, was the architect. Of later years, the
beautiful and injured Mrs. Fitzherbert might be seen traversing the
greensward, which was laved by the then pellucid waters of the Thames.
The parish of Twickenham, in fact, was noted for the numerous characters
who have, at various times, lived in it: Robert Boyle, the great
philosopher; James Craggs, Secretary of State; Lord George Germaine;
Lord Bute--are strangely mixed up w