WILL OF J. M. W. TURNER, ESQ. R.A.

hundred and fifty pounds each. And as to the produce of the said finished pictures when sold, I give thereout the sum of one thousand pounds to the pension fund of the Royal Academy, provided they give a medal for landscape painting, and marked with my name upon it as Turner's Medal, silver or gold in their discretion, five hundred pounds to the Artist's General Benevolent Fund, five hundred pounds to the Foundling Hospital, Lamb's Conduit Street, five hundred pounds to the London Orphan Fund, and the residue of the produce to fall into the residue of my estate for the benefit of the intended hospital in my Will mentioned. I give and bequeath unto Mrs. Wheeler and her two sisters, Emma and Laura, one hundred pounds each, free from legacy duty. I hereby nominate and appoint Hugh Johnson Munro, of North Britain, to be a trustee and executor, to act with the other trustees and executors appointed by my Will and Codicils. And I hereby expressly declare that the trustees and executors appointed by my Codicils shall have equal powers and be clothed with the same authorities, to all intents and purposes, as if they had been appointed by my original Will, instead of being appointed by any Codicil thereto. In witness whereof, I, the said Joseph Mallord William Turner, have to this, my third Codicil, (I having revoked my Codicil dated the Ninth day of August, One Thousand Eight Hundred and Forty-Six,) contained in two sheets of paper, set my hand and seal this sheet thereof, and to this second and last sheet my hand and seal, this first day of February, ONE THOUSAND EIGHT HUNDRED AND FORTY-NINE.

J. M. W. TURNER. (L.S.)

Signed, sealed, published, and declared by the said Joseph Mallord William Turner, as and for a Codicil to his last Will and Testament, in the presence of us, who, in his presence, at his request, and in the presence of each other, have at the same time subscribed our names as Witnesses hereto, the word "Will" having been first interlined in the first sheet hereof.

JOSEPH TIBBS,

Clerks to Mr. Harpur, Ken

TOOMAS SCHROEDER,} nington Cross, Surrey.

Probed at London with four Codicils the 6th September, 1852, before the worshipful Thomas Spinks, Doctor of Laws and Surrogate by the Oaths of the Reverend Henry Scott Trimmer, Clerk (in the Will written The Reverend Henry Trimmer), George Jones, Esquire, and Charles Turner, Esquire, three of the surviving executors named in the said Will, and Philip Hardwick (in the second Codicil written Hardwicke), Esquire, and Henry Harpur, Esquire, two of the Executors named in the second Codicil, to whom administration was granted, having been first sworn duly to administer, power reserved of making the like grant to Hugh Andrew Johnstone Munro (in the fourth Codicil written Hugh Johnston Munro), Esquire, the executor named in the fourth Codicil, when he shall apply for the same. Samuel Rogers, Esquire, the other surviving executor and one of the residuary legatees in trust named in the said Will, and Thomas Griffith (in the second Codicil written Griffiths), Esquire, and John Ruskin (in the second Codicil written John Ruskin the younger), Esquire, the other executors and residuary legatees in trust named in the said second Codicil having respectively renounced the probate and execution of the said Will and Codicils, and also letters of administration, with the same annexed of the goods of the said deceased, an interlocutory decree having been first made and interposed for the force and validity of the said Will.

CHARLES DYNELEY,
JOHN IGGULDen,

W. F. GOSTLING,

Deputy

Registers.

Sept., 1852.

RIVERS OF FRANCE.

THE LOIRE.

ORLEANS.

THE river Loire has peculiar attractions for the English traveller. It waters those famous countries of Touraine and Anjou, where the bones of his ancestors are still to be found. Its banks are connected with numberless associations, both of history and romance. Every ruin on its hills is celebrated in story,-every dash of its enchanted wave calls up spirits of the past.

Our first view of the Loire was productive of disappointment. The banks here are flat and tame, and the stream more like a haunt of Mercury, in his commercial character, than of the Muses. We became more reconciled to the scene, however, on approaching nearer. The river is broad, full, and rapid; and the city of ORLEANS, built on the water's edge, impresses the imagination even of those who are unacquainted with its historical associations. From the further end of the bridge which spans the stream with nine wide arches, more especially, its appearance is magnificent. The towers of the old cathedral, seen on the left, form the principal object, and terminate the view

with a venerable majesty which confers its own character upon all the other details.

From this spot, the town appears to be built upon a perfect flat; and there is about the whole scene a kind of repose which we never before witnessed in the crowded haunts of men. It is owing partly, no doubt, to the extreme sultriness of the weather, that the few inhabitants we see move so slowly and languidly about. The tap of a solitary hammer upon the shore is heard distinctly, as if there were no other sound among the thousands of human beings around it; the mariners recline at full length in their antique-looking vessels, whose white sails hang in utter lifelessness from the mast; and the fruit-women suffer their heads, that are turbaned with handkerchiefs of every bright and glowing colour, to nod over their forgotten stalls, while they dream of custom which would just now be accounted a nuisance.

This spirit of repose, however, receives its colour from the cathedral, which impresses upon the whole scene a character of conventual stillness united with Romish grandeur. Its silence resembles that of a ruined temple, crowded only by the phantoms of memory; and as we stand musing and solitary, with only the stilly murmur of the waters beneath in our ear, we are ready to believe that we behold a city of history conjured up from the grave of time, and peopled by shadows.

There is to some people-and we confess, ourselves, to belong to this class—an extraordinary pleasure in wandering, for the first time, through a foreign town, ignorant and uninquiring, without a plan and without a purpose― turning from street to street, from building to building, from group to group-mingling in crowds, gazing at windows, staring at faces, unknowing and unknown, a