while the heats of the day were yet unfelt, in a high degree delightful; for a gentle shower had fallen during the early part of the preceding night, and the breeze swept by with freshness, health, and fragrance on its wings. To Montchensey in particular, who had only within these few days ventured forth from confinement, it seemed, as it were, an opening paradise, and he was eloquent even to rapture on the gratifications he so keenly felt.

The occasion was, in fact, worthy of the rapture it inspired; for, whether the eye, the ear, or the faculty of smell, were considered, the appeal to the senses was alike perfect and exquisite. It was just that period when the clouds had ceased contending with the growing light; when the mists had risen like the vapours of an accepted offering, and the landscape was kindling into life and beauty. The dew-drops, those stars of the morning, glistened on every leaf; a livelier verdure mantled over the fields; a richer colouring glowed upon the flowers, and the Avon, winding and doubling through its fertile valley, now partially concealed by overhanging wood, and now sweeping unshaded through

pasturage of the most vivid green, was seen laughing and sparkling in the sun-beams.

The breath of heaven, meanwhile, was whispering through the trees; the sound of the cattle cropping the crisp herbage, fell distinctly on the ear, and the melody of the feathered world was heard in ever-varying strains of gratitude through every copse and grove; while perfumes of the most delicious odour, from the clover, the beanflower, and the meadow-sweet of the plains, from the honeysuckle, sweet-briar, and muskrose of the hedges, stole upon and enriched the air.

Invigorated by the balmy coolness of the breeze, and interested by the features of the vale, which, at frequent turns of the road, opened up new beauties, the green and lively tinting of the home landscape being contrasted with the soft blue haze of distant hills, the party wandered on, heedless of time, and either commenting on the scenes before them, or absorbed by the reminiscences they were calculated to suggest.

They at length reached the park gates, and here Montchensey, on whose mind every thing

connected with Shakspeare had made an indelible impression, recollected, what tradition had been careful to preserve, that it was to these gates the young bard had affixed the pasquinade which had so materially contributed to hasten his flight from Stratford, and turning to him with a smile, he enquired if the lines yet dwelt on his memory, and whether they might venture to request a repetition of them.

"Mere doggrel, Master Montchensey," answered the bard, "and therefore not worth repeating. I wish, indeed, they were buried in oblivion; for though I still think Sir Thomas exhibited more warmth and animosity than the occasion called for, and I well remember being pleased with the opportunity of bringing him on the stage, under the character of Justice Shallow, yet the verses in question, the offspring of youthful petulance and unbridled resentment, were coarse and exasperating in a high degree. The worthy knight, I have reason to believe, never entirely forgave their severity; but I must add, in justice to the present possessor of Charlecote, that, if he has not forgotten the transaction, he reviews it without a feeling of hostility;

for, since my return to Stratford, I have experienced from him nothing but kindness and hospitality."

"I am happy to hear so decided a proof of his good sense,” replied Montchensey, as they entered the park, the interesting appearance of which soon absorbed all their attention. It was, indeed, independent of its association with the fame and fortunes of the bard, a scene of great beauty; but to the present party, who viewed Shakspeare with much of that enthusiasm which has only fallen to the public mind within the last century, it was in a very high degree attractive.

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"And it was here, my dear Sir," said Helen, addressing the poet, among the sheltered glens and romantic solitudes of Fulbroke park, beneath these deep and lofty woods,

whose boughs are moss'd with age, And high tops bald with dry antiquity,

that you were tempted to commit that trespass which, so fortunate for the lovers of the drama, cast the colour of your future life.”

As she uttered these words, the breeze sighed

with a soothing and delicious murmur through the branches of the ancient avenue of oaks beneath which they stood, while, at the same moment, a few vagrant deer were seen bounding across the extremity of the vista.

"Yes, my sweet Helen," cried the poet, emerging with his friends from the broad shadow of the trees upon an open and extensive lawn, "to yonder spot, called Daisy-hill, then, and now, the keeper's lodge," pointing to a small house distantly situated in the park, "was it my fate to be carried, on detection in this adventurous amusement. My fellows in the sport had fled with a precipitation which I disdained to imitate; and here, in a state of jeopardy not much to be envied, had I to wait for some time, until a message from the hall summoned the poor culprit to a severer trial. But before we visit this scene, still present to my memory in all its once humiliating features, you would doubtless wish to see somewhat more of these rich glades and woodlands, which long before I had the misfortune to be entangled with my deer-loving friends, had formed my favourite haunts, and were to me, indeed, in all my youthful cares,