were ungrateful, indeed, did I not fully and freely acknowledge it; but my allusion was to the violence so often inseparable from the mode of life to which he is devoted, and more particularly to the stern and savage features which but too well characterise the greater part of his associates. But I marvel much that, as your language would imply, you have never found out who this extraordinary young man is; for he seemed to me, from his manner and the few broken hints which dropped almost involuntarily from his tongue, to be deeply and even tenderly interested for the welfare of Wyeburne, and its inhabitants."

A death-like paleness seemed to steal over the cheek of Helen as Shakspeare uttered these last words, and she evidently trembled with emotion as she faintly said, "I should be sorry, indeed, to think that the robber Roland has any affinity to, or connection with the peasantry of Wyeburne; but tell me, my dear Sir, for you have already seen more of this adventurer than has, I believe, yet fallen to the lot of any resident in this valley, are his features, as report has sometimes affirmed, of a swarthy and somewhat

olive hue?" "His complexion," replied the poet, "is of a deep brown, and his hair black as the wing of the raven." "Then it cannot be," ejaculated Helen to herself, the rose rekindling on her cheek, and her eye resuming its former lustre," it cannot be ! my father's suspicions must be unfounded."

They had now nearly reached the little village of Wyeburne, whose cottages, as they advanced, appeared isolated by groups of trees, and dispersed along both banks of the stream. They were in general small, though strongly built of wood and clay, consisting but of two rooms on the ground floor, of which the inner was for the master and his family, and the outer for the servants, and they were thatched with straw or sedge. But there were a few amongst them on a larger scale, coated with white lime or cement, and very neatly roofed with reed, and having three or more rooms above and below. To one of this latter description, which stood near the centre of the village, beneath the shelter of a large and venerable oak, with a garden in front dropping down to the water, and an orchard and small field behind, extending to

the base of the cliff, Helen directed her steps. And here Shakspeare could not avoid reiterating his sense of admiration for the peculiar features of the scene. It was, indeed, in all respects, worthy of his praise; for he had seldom, even in imagination, great master though he were of fancy's fairest forms, pictured a retreat more lovely and sequestered than was this. Conceive then, gentle reader, the Wye, in this part of its course, assuming a more varied aspect than usual; sometimes reflecting, with the most unbroken serenity, every the most minute leaf or tendril that hung over its clear surface, and then suddenly whitening into foam, as it fell over small precipices in its channel, exhibiting numerous beautiful cascades, and sending to the ear a music alike pleasing and tranquillising in its effect. Conceive this beautiful stream, skirted on either hand with lofty cliffs, clothed to their very summits, and winding in such a manner, that whilst the cottages were placed by its direction in the most varied and opposed situations, each with its little plantation of ash or elm, the whole valley of the hamlet was visible, from one extremity to the

other, Wyeburne Hall, with its tower and turrets, terminating the vista on a gentle ascent, at one end, and the church, with its light and elegant spire, rising against a back-ground of darkly-wooded cliffs, closing it on the other.

A gentle tap at the door of the cottage, at which Helen had now arrived, was almost immediately answered by the appearance of a man pretty far advanced in years, but whose countenance, though strongly marked by the hand of time, exhibited such striking indications of intelligence, together with so much benevolent sweetness of expression, as instantly to prepossess whoever saw him in his favour. There was something, indeed, in his whole person and manner, though his dress was of the simplest kind, consisting merely of a gray fustian frock, belted loosely around him, that at once bespoke a character many degrees removed from the customary cast of rural life. In his figure he was tall and thin, and, if somewhat stooping from the pressure of age, yet, notwithstanding this, and the still more unequivocal proof of senility which was afforded by a beard and hair white as snow, his eye retained much of its

former lustre, and a portion of the glow of earlier days yet lingered on his cheek.

"And how are you, my dear Simon?" exclaimed Helen, as she affectionately offered him her hand, whilst a smile of delighted satisfaction beamed on the features of the old man ; " and how is my good Dorothy?"-"Well, I thank you, my honoured mistress," he replied, "but wont you and the gentleman walk in ?"

"I am rather too early a visitor, I am afraid, Simon; but the beauty of the morning having tempted me and my companion to stroll thus far, I would not return without enquiring after you."

"Heaven bless you, my dear lady; but do walk in; our morning's meal is just set out, and if your friend can but put up with village fare, I would fain entreat you to break your fast with us."

There was a frankness and cordiality in the invitation which could not be mistaken; and Helen and the poet, after a momentary interchange of looks, entered the cottage of Simon Fraser.

If Shakspeare had been pleased with the