ike some ancient costume,
But or Roman or Grecian, I'm loth to presume,
So I cannot be _poz_ yet I blush to confess,
That her limbs are shown off in a little undress;
Whilst the goddess herself, _en bon point_ as she is,
With her curls _a la Grecque_, and but little _chemise_,
Is so plump and so round, my dear sir, it is plain,
She must bring _the robust_ into fashion again."

Coming back through the churchyard from Alstone Spa, we discovered the
following humorous epitaph.

"Here lies John Ball;
An unfortunate fall,
By crossing a wall,
Brought him to his end."

Peace to his manes! But, with such a notice above him to excite
attention, it is well he hears not, or ten times a clay his sleep might
be sadly disturbed. Once more we are in the High Street, where I shall
just sketch two or three singularities, without which my notice of the
eccentrics of Cheltenham might be deemed imperfect.

The dashing knight coming this way on horseback, with his
double-pommelled saddle, is a well-known Cheltenham resident, whose love
of the good things of this world induced him to look into the kitchen
for a helpmate, and he found one, who not only supplies his table with
excellent dishes, but also furnishes the banquet with a liberal quantity
of sauce. The group of _roues_ to the right, standing under the
portico (I suppose I must call it) to the rooms, is composed of that
good-humoured fellow Ormsby, who sometimes figures here as an amateur
actor, and, whether on or off the stage, is generally respected for
the amiable qualities of his heart. The ~247~~gentleman with the _blue
bauble_ round his neck is, or was, a lieutenant-colonel, and still loves
to fire a great gun now and then, when he gets into the trenches before
Seringapatam; but I must leave others to unriddle the character, while
I pay my respects to another military hero, who is no less famous among
the Chelts for his attachment to the stage--Lieutenant-colonel B*****ll,
of whom it would be difficult for any one who knew him to speak
disrespectfully. Sir John N****tt and his son, who are here called the
inseparables, finish the picture upon this spot, with the exception of
my old friend the jack of trumps, R*l*y, whose arch-looking visage I
perceive peeping out like the first glance of a court card in the rear
of a bad hand; but let him pass: the mirror of the En