Full as well as house can be:
And of carvings old and quaint,
Relics of some mitr'd saint,
'Tis--I hate to be perfidious--
'Tis a house most sacrilegious.

"Glorious, glowing painted glass,
What its beauty can surpass?
Shrines bedeck'd with gems we see,
Overhung by canopy
Of embroider'd curtains rare--
Wondrous works of time and care!
Up stairs, down stairs, in the hall,
There is something great or small
To attract the curious eye
Into it to rudely pry.

"Here some niche or cabinet
Full of rarities is set;
Here some picture--'precious bit'--
There's no time to dwell on it;
Bronzes, china--all present
Each their own sweet blandishment.
But what makes our pleasure here,
Is our welcome and our cheer;
So I'll not say one bit more,--
Long live Baylis and Whitmore!"

I would endeavour to convey some idea of the Pryor's Bank and its now
dispersed treasures as they were in 1840, in which year we will suppose
the reader to accompany us through the house and grounds; but before
entering the house, I would call attention to a quiet walk along the
garden-terrace, laved to its verdant slope by the brimming Thames.
[Picture: Terrace at Pryor's Bank] Suppose, then, we leave those
beautiful climbing plants--they are Chilian creepers that so profusely
wanton on the sunny wall--and turning sharply round an angle of the river
front, cut at once, by the most direct walk, the parties who in luxurious
idleness have assembled about the garden fountain; and, lest such folk
should attempt to interrupt us in our sober purpose, let us not stop to
see or admire anything, until we reach the bay-window summer-house at the
end of the terrace. "How magnificent are those chestnut-trees!" I hear
you exclaim; "and this old bay-window!"

Ay, this summer-house which shelters us, and those noble balusters which
protect the northern termination of the terrace, how many thoughts do
they conjure up in the mind! [Picture: Fountain at Pryor's Bank] These
balusters belonged to the main staircase of Winchester House. Do you
remember Winchester House in Broad Street, in the good city of London,
the residence of "the loyal Paulets?" Perhaps not. There is, however, a
print of its last appearance in the 'Gentleman's Magazine' for April,
1839, and by which you will at once identify this summer-house as the
bay-window of the principal apartment. Indeed the editor tells you that