who were not only witty themselves, but the cause of wit in others, might be said to have given birth to a competition of conversational pleasantries throughout the entire household of Montchensey; and when these flagged, masques, and pageantry, and spectacle, were called in, in the getting up of which, the imagination and technical skill of the two bards were exerted with a power of illusion which seemed to achieve

wonders.

So delighted, indeed, were all parties with the generous and almost boundless hospitality which were displayed at Wyeburne Hall on this re-union of the two families, that it became a task of some difficulty to tear themselves away from their attractions. Shakspeare was the last who departed, and he left Wyeburne with a thousand benedictions on his head for the noble, generous, and unequalled efforts which he had made, and successfully made too, for the welfare and preservation of its inmates; and not without a promise, on the part both of the Nevilles and Montchenseys, that they would not fail to visit him at New-Place during the ensuing May.

It is scarcely necessary to add, that this promise was never fulfilled; for in the April of the following year, and on the same day with his great contemporary Cervantes, died our matchless and immortal bard. The event, as it was entirely unapprehended by his friends at Wyeburne, having never been, apparently, in better health and spirits than during his residence there, proved to them a shock of the most severe and trying kind; for they had ample reason, as we have fully shown, to love and venerate Shakspeare, not only in common with the rest of the world, but from a heart-felt consciousness of great personal obligation; and they were, in fact, meditating how best, in their intended visit to Stratford, they should express their continued sense of gratitude, when the mournful news arrived.

There were few events, indeed, which could have thrown a deeper cloud over the happiness of Wyeburne than the death of Shakspeare, nor one that was likely to leave a more permanent impression of regret and sorrow. Not many weeks, in fact, were suffered to elapse, before Montchensey, together with Hubert and

Helen, who had not yet left the Hall, determined on an expedition to Stratford, not only with a view of mingling their grief with that of the bereaved family of the poet, but in order to ascertain what circumstances had accompanied or preceded a deprivation so truly to be deplored; and to indulge, at the same time, a melancholy luxury in visiting the tomb of their beloved friend.

It was on the evening of a fine day in June, about two months after the death of the bard, when they reached Stratford, and found the whole town still lamenting the irretrievable loss which they had sustained. Their first object was to see Dr. Hall, from whom they expected to acquire all the information they were in search of. As might be imagined, their unexpected appearance opened afresh the tide of grief which was but just beginning to subside, and Mrs. Hall especially, whose love and admiration of her father had been almost unbounded, seemed nearly overcome by the intensity of her own emotions. As soon, however, as the first burst of agonizing sorrow was over, both she and her husband appeared to enjoy a

mournful gratification in relating some of the particulars which had occurred during the short struggle which had terminated the life of their invaluable relative.

Dr. Hall said he had been extremely puzzled to give any satisfactory account, either of the name or character of the disease, which had so prématurely robbed the world of one of its greatest ornaments. "I think I told you," he continued, addressing Montchensey, " when we met last year at the College, that our friend had been subject ever since his great and humane exertions, during the dreadful fire here of 1614, to the occasional attack of an obscure, and for the most part, a transient affection of the chest, especially after any more than usual fatigue, either of body or mind; but as no man possessed a more easy and cheerful disposition, or was, on every account, more deservedly at peace within himself, whilst, at the same time, his exercise and mode of living were, in general, regular and uniform, these were of rare occurrence, and in the intervals he was in apparent good health. He had returned, indeed, from Wyeburne, looking, to our great gratification,

uncommonly well and hearty, and had passed through the winter with only two slight attacks of his singular complaint, and those of but a few hours' duration. In the spring, however, and only a week previous to his death, he had gotten cold, in consequence of exposure to wet and considerable fatigue, incurred in behalf of a friend for whom he had felt much anxiety; and these united causes brought on an attack, which from the first put on an alarming appearance, and which, setting at defiance all that myself and another physician from Warwick could suggest for his relief, terminated the life of our dear patient, in less than eight and forty hours from its commencement !"

"And were his mental faculties preserved to him?" said Montchensey, after a pause of considerable length.

"It was an unspeakable happiness to us all," replied Mrs. Hall, that my dear father retained not only his mind, but its perfect composure to the last moments of his existence. He had made his will about a month before, so that nothing relative to his worldly affairs could give him any disturbance; and though