And having achieved the highest military renown
    in the Spanish Peninsula,
  He thrice received the unanimous thanks of
    Parliament,
  And a Monument erected by the British nation
    in St. Paul’s Cathedral
    Commemorates his death and services,
  His grateful countrymen, to perpetuate past and
    incite to future exertions,
  Have raised this column, under the auspices of
    his Majesty, King George the Fourth,
    To the memory of a hero and a Welshman. 
  The plan and design of this Monument was given
    by our countryman, John Nash, Esq.  F.R.S. 
    Architect to the King. 
    The ornaments were executed by
    E.H.  Bailey, Esq.  R.A. 
  And the whole was erected by Mr. Daniel
    Mainwaring, of the town of Carmarthen,
    In the year 1826 and 1827.

On the north side is the translation of the above in Welsh; and on the top of the pedestal, on each side of the square, are trophies.  The top of the column is also square, and on each side are imitative cannons.  The statue of the hero surmounts the whole.  He is wrapped in a cloak, and is supported by a baluster, round which are emblems of spears.

W.H.

* * * * *

THE SKETCH BOOK

AN HOUR TOO MANY.

Hail, land of the kangaroo!—­paradise of the bushranger!—­purgatory of England!—­happy scene, where the sheep-stealer is metamorphosed into the shepherd; the highwayman is the guardian of the road; the dandy is delicate no more, and earns his daily bread; and the Court of Chancery is unknown—­hail to thee, soil of larceny and love! of pickpockets and principle! of every fraud under heaven, and primeval virtue! daughter of jails, and mother of empires!—­hail to thee, New South Wales!  In all my years—­and I am now no boy—­and in all my travels—­and I am now at the antipodes—­I have never heard any maxim so often as, that time is short; yet no maxim that ever dropt from human lips is further from the truth.  I appeal to the experience of mankind—­to the three hundred heirs of the British peerage, whom their gouty fathers keep out of their honours and estates—­to the six hundred and sixty-eight candidates for seats in parliament, which they must wait for till the present sitters die; or turn rebellious to their noble patrons, or their borough patrons, or their Jew patrons; or plunge into joint-stock ruin, and expatriate themselves, for the astonishment of all other countries, and the benefit of their own;—­to the six thousand five hundred heroes of the half-pay, longing for tardy war;—­to the hundred thousand promissory excisemen lying on the soul of the chancellor of the ex-chequer, and pining for the mortality of every gauger from the Lizard to the Orkneys;—­and, to club the whole discomfort into one, to the entire race of the fine and superfine, who breathe the vital air, from five thousand a year to twenty times the rental, the unhappy population of the realms of indolence included in Bond Street, St. James’s, and the squares.