minent part for whatever could tend to the comfort and welfare of his unfortunate guest.

The bustle and concourse to which this occurrence had given rise, soon attracted the attention of one who has since deservedly been placed foremost in the ranks of human genius; for immediately opposite the hostelry of Julius Shaw was New Place, the then residence of our immortal Shakspeare!

The bard, who was amusing himself in his garden with his little grand-daughter, Elizabeth Hall, a beautiful girl about seven years of age, surprised by the unusual noise and number of voices which seemed to issue from the immediate neighbourhood, hastened into the house, but not meeting with any satisfactory explanation of the cause, either there, or from those who stood thickly congregated near his door, he sent over to the Falcon, requesting that Shaw, with whom, as a man of great good humour and more than common talent, he was on terms of intimacy, would let him know what had happened to occasion such a crowd in the street.

The servant, however, had scarcely left the door, when the message was superseded by the

arrival of Shaw himself, who, as soon as he had seen the unfortunate gentleman placed upon a bed, and had made some enquiries into the origin and nature of the accident, and into the quality of his guests, had hurried over to New Place to consult with Shakspeare, his adviser and oracle on every momentous occasion, as to what steps he should next pursue.

"Well, mine host," exclaimed the bard as the anxious Innkeeper entered the room, "whence comes this hubbub at your gates? I am afraid, from your countenance, that something unpleasant has happened at the Falcon."

"I cannot say that it has happened there, Master Shakspeare, but a marvellous bad accident has befallen a very worthy-looking gentleman, and he now lies in extremity at my house. He has been thrown from his horse, and so much bruised, and otherwise hurt, that I am in doubt if it will go well with him; and his daughter, as beautiful a young creature as even your fancy, I will venture to say, Master Shakspeare, ever formed, takes on at such a rate, that it grieves my heart to see her; and there is the

old grey-headed servant, too, wringing his hands, and lamenting so bitterly."

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"Run, my good Shaw," interrupted the humane bard, run and tell my son-in-law to hasten to your house immediately; and in the interim, I will step over, and see what can be done on my part."

It need scarcely be mentioned to my readers that the person thus sent for was Dr. Hall, who had married in 1607, Shakspeare's eldest daughter, Susanna, and who was held in considerable estimation as a physician of celebrity and skill.

His destined patient, however, was fast recovering from the death-like stupor into which he had been thrown by the violence of the fall. He had recognised his daughter, who was hanging over him in an agony of grief and apprehension, and the words "My dearest Helen," had just escaped his lips, when the name of Shakspeare was announced; a name which even under the conflicting struggles of returning life, seemed not to have lost its powers of excitement; for the languid eyes of the sufferer were instantly directed towards the door of the apartment, and whilst one hand grasped that of his beloved

daughter, with the energy of parental love, the other was tremulously extended towards the approaching figure of the bard.

Shakspeare on the stage, and, as far as his works had hitherto issued from the press, in the closet also, had long been an object of the warmest admiration to Eustace Montchensey, for such was the name of the individual who now lay stretched upon the bed of pain, and whose intention it had been, if the accident which we have recorded as occurring a few miles short of Stratford had not intervened, to have called upon the poet; for he was on his way from London to his seat in Derbyshire, and had lately learnt that our bard, having finally quitted the metropolis, had sought retirement in his native town.

There wanted but the opportunity of a personal interview with Shakspeare, to love the man as much as his works; for Nature had impressed upon his countenance not only what was great and intellectual, but what was in the highest degree lovely and engaging; and more especially on this occasion were his features and manner so entirely the index of his heart, that

as he drew near to take the hand of Montchensey, and before a word had escaped his lips, misery had lost half its load from the conscious presence of kindness and compassion.

"I am come, Sir," uttered the benevolent bard, in a tone tremulous through emotion, for the distress of the young and innocent Helen had awakened his most painful sympathy, "I am come to offer you the accommodation of my house; it is but a step hence; for though I entertain a high opinion of the care and attention of mine host here, yet a place like this is ill calculated for the quiet which your situation demands. My wife will assist this young lady in nursing you; we will have a physician immediately; indeed, I have sent for one already, and if he sees no objection, we will have you removed instantly."

All this was said with such unaffected tenderness, so evidently did it flow from the noblest simplicity, and benevolent greatness of character, that Helen Montchensey, unable to repress the mingled emotions of gratitude and admiration which were swelling at her bosom, almost