when Tickell sang, every walk

"Seems from afar a moving tulip bed,
Where rich brocades and glossy damasks glow,
And chintz, the rival of the showery bow."

There is Newton's house at South Kensington to visit, and Wilkie's and
Mrs. Inchbald's; and, above all, there is Holland House, the scene of
the delightful Whig coteries of Tom Moore's time. Here Addison lived to
regret his marriage with a lady of rank, and here he died. At Kensington
Charles James Fox spent his youth.

[Illustration: PART OF MODERN LONDON, SHOWING THE ANCIENT WALL (_see
page 20_).]

And now Chelsea brings us pleasant recollections of Sir Thomas More,
Swift, Sir Robert Walpole, and Atterbury. "Chelsith," Sir Thomas More
used to call it when Holbein was lodging in his house and King Henry,
who afterwards beheaded his old friend, used to come to dinner, and
after dinner walk round the fair garden with his arm round his host's
neck. More was fond of walking on the flat roof of his gatehouse, which
commanded a pleasant prospect of the Thames and the fields beyond. Let
us hope the tradition is not true that he used to bind heretics to a
tree in his garden. In 1717 Chelsea only contained 350 houses, and these
in 1725 had grown to 1,350. There is Cheyne Walk, so called from the
Lords Cheyne, owners of the manor; and we must not forget Don Saltero
and his famous coffee-house, the oddities of which Steele pleasantly
sketched in the Tatler. The Don was famous for his skill in brewing
punch and for his excellent playing on the fiddle. Saltero was a
barber, who drew teeth, drew customers, wrote verses, and collected
curiosities.

"Some relics of the Sheban queen
And fragments of the famed Bob Crusoe."

Swift lodged at Chelsea, over against the Jacobite Bishop Atterbury, who
so nearly lost his head. In one of his delightful letters to Stella
Swift describes "the Old Original Chelsea Bun House," and the
r-r-r-r-rare Chelsea buns. He used to leave his best gown and perriwig
at Mrs. Vanhomrig's, in Suffolk Street, then walk up Pall Mall, through
the park, out at Buckingham House, and on to Chelsea, a little beyond
the church (5,748 steps), he says, in less than an hour, which was
leisurely walking even for the contemplative and observant dean. Smollet
laid a scene of his "Humphrey Clinker" in Chelsea, where he lived for
some time.

The Princess Elizabeth, when a girl, lived at Chelsea, with that
dangerous man, with whom she is said to