t ground adjoining
to a pond. There we found what we sought, about three quarters of a
mile north of Montague House, and about 500 yards east of Tottenham
Court Road. The steps answer Mr. Walsh's description. They are of
the size of a large human foot, about three inches deep, and lie
nearly from north-east to south-west. We counted only seventy-six,
but we were not exact in counting. The place where one or both the
brothers are supposed to have fallen, is still bare of grass. The
labourer also showed us the bank where (the tradition is) the
wretched woman sat to see the combat."

Mr. Southey then goes on the speak of his full confidence in the
tradition of their indestructibility, even after ploughing up, and
of the conclusions to be drawn from the circumstance.

To this long note, I beg to append a query, as to the latest account
of these footsteps, previous to the ground being built over, as it
evidently now must be.

G.H.B.

* * * * *

ON AUTHORS AND BOOKS, NO. 4.

Verse may picture the feelings of the author, or it may only picture
his fancy. To assume the former position, is not always safe; and in
two memorable instances a series of sonnets has been used to
construct a _baseless fabric_ of biography.

In the accompanying sonnet, there is no such uncertainty. It was
communicated to me by John Adamson, Esq., M.R.S.L., &c., honourably
known by a translation of the tragedy of _Dona Ignez de Castro_,
from the Portuguese of Nicola Luiz, and by a _Memoir of the life and
writings of Camoens_, &c. It was not intended for publication, but
now appears, at my request.

Mr. Adamson, it should be stated, is a corresponding member of the
Royal Academy of Sciences of Lisbon, and has received diplomas of
the orders of Christ and the Tower-and-Sword. The _coming storm_
alludes to the menace of invasion by France.

"SONNET.

"O Portugal! whene'er I see thy name
What proud emotions rise within my breast!
To _thee_ I owe--from _thee_ derive that fame
Which here may linger when I lie at rest.
When as a youth I landed on thy shore,
How little did I think I e'er could be
Worthy the honours thou has giv'n to me;
And when the coming storm I did deplore,
Drove me far from thee by its hostile threat--
With feelings which can never be effaced,
I learn'd to commune with those writers old
Who had the deeds of they great chieftains told;
Departed bards in