shade of the old oaks which surround this intended monument of ancient days and feudalism. The chicken-bones and long corks which lay scattered on all sides, at midsummer time at least, speak plainly of hospitality and good cheer; and as the descent from this favourite spot of out-door feasting is steep and slippery, I will vouch for the fun and merriment, to say nothing of the disasters, when lads and lasses meet in festive glee, and are well prepared, the aristocracy with champagne and the farmocracy with double X, for sport under the greenwood tree. In proof of my assertion, as we stood on the side of that pleasant spot fully admiring the beauty of the scene, I could not help repeating some few words from a French vaudeville which ran thus:

"Il est plus dangereux de glicer,
Sur le gazon que la glace ;"

which I had scarcely uttered when, either from laughing or some other cause, the foot of my agreeable but somewhat corpulent companion did slip, and he rolled or rather slid some fifty feet below the point where we had stood, being at length brought up by a tree and safely anchored; otherwise he might perchance have disturbed the trout by floundering in the brook below, in which preserved abundance they were enjoying themselves. To the

east of the house, and almost immediately connected with it by a flight of stone steps, is a small but charming summer garden, whence, standing on its highest portion, you command a view of the whole wood-encircled park; and, peeping from beneath the trees, a portion of the church turret and spire lift their picturesque forms from amid the thick green foliage, offering a charming and additional object of beauty to the silence, and, I may almost add, solemnity of the scene.

To him who, standing on the southern bank of the stream, looks towards this garden when the flowers are in the fulness and multiplicity of their bright summer suits, it is truly like a scene of fairy land; and I have never ascertained that any stranger who asks in courtesy has been refused admittance to this truly interesting and peaceful spot-one of the least of the thousands to be seen in merry England. The walnut trees alone, being some of the finest ever beheld, are worthy of a visit; and well can I believe that when the white and pink thorn trees which abound on the Castle Hill, and are scattered elsewhere in the woodlands, of great size and profusion, are in the fulness of their bloom, it must be well worthy a trip even from the great Babylon for a few hours' walk amid such fragrant luxuriance thus bountifully supplied by

Nature's unsparing hand. And yet how many hundreds, aye, how many thousands, are there who yearly leave their pleasant homes, even in the magnificent city of Bath, within one hour's pleasant drive of this fair scene, and equal numbers both from Bristol and its neighbouring Clifton, within two hours' ride, who go forth, I say, from their delightful abiding-places to scatter wealth, and idle through many a bright long summer's day, either at that Anglo-fraternising place, Boulogne, or still more uncongenial town called Dieppe, where the fresh breezes of the sea literally succumb to the foul stench of stale fish. Yet these, and such as these, talk of having summered on the Continent, as had they visited half the capitals of Europe, and enjoyed the hospitality of half the crowned heads, or heads still left with crowns, in the world. They speak, with sorrow do I say it, of the charms of the Continent-their charm being Boulogne ; and yet are they scarcely aware, having never imagined there was aught worthy of a visit in their own country, that within twelve miles or four leagues of them (for probably they prefer the league better,) there is some of the finest scenery in the world. And being aware of this fact, what mattereth it to them? The one is in Old England, the land we live in-the land where every man can speak his mind freely and fearlessly, if honestly

-the land where a man may live in the woodlands with his hall-door open, and do aught that man desire to do, so that he obey the law. The other is beyond the white cliffs of perfide Albion, in La Belle France-the country of gloire, fraternity and passports-abroad, on the Continent. I fancy, while memory brings me back to the many beauteous spots of dear England, (which hereafter I shall endeavour to sketch with my pen,) that I recline half dosing in my elbow chair and hear the following words :-"Oh, dear Mamma, let us, do let us, go abroad this summer, to sweet, dear, darling, delightful Boulogne. Only think of that dear, amusing Adolphus Ernest Joinville Mellier de Quequovillien. What cheering, delicious sentiments he expressed! Do you recollect, dearest Ma', when he stood with his hand on his manly breast under the monument erected to commemorate the capture of England by Napoleon, and exclaimed, 'You behold, fair ladies, La Belle France, the country of de glory and de fraternity; and dare, in de distance, is de little spot, your England-de nation of shopkeepers?" By St. Hubert (but I never swear) it positively makes me irritable to think that such frivolity can be admitted in such a glorious country as this, deserted as are its beauties for such Foreign pig-sties.

But let me endeavour to forget it if I

can,

for we

are now driving into the little village of Combe. On our right, its lawn watered by a trout stream, stands the modern residence of the clergyman-the very spot of spots for a christian pastor's bivouack, for if he find not peace amid such rural beauty and solitude, and teach it not to others, better try another, as I have done, on the banks of the Ebro, in mid-winter's snow, and he would find the change somewhat in his favour at this snuggery of Combe. But these reverend gentlemen have good taste both in the selection as in the adornment of their abiding-places; indeed, barring the lord of the castle or the Squire of the mansion, their abode—as it ought to be if deserving-is generally the best in a village; and as we drove by, his Reverence-probably a future Very or Right Reverend-appeared to be employed in the harmless occupation of budding rose trees.

Knowing the bold Baron of Combe to be absent from his luxurious abode hard by in the oval park, we had half a mind to sound a halt and beat up his quarters; but my fat friend had some peculiar notions in reference to religious opinions, and I did not know how far the good rector, though his appearance was benevolent and hospitable, would be prepared to entertain two such hungry wanderers as we were. Moreover, the days of