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with the fortress-like buildings where | famous abbey, that from the seventh centourneys and other brilliant displays cel-tury enjoyed such extraordinary wealth ebrated the festival of England's patron and power. Some stone walls, a gravesaint, St. George. The old Bell Tower, yard, and the tolling of the old curfew beneath which prisoners were once con bell alone remain to remind one of Erkenfined; the Round Tower, constructed to wald's foundation. History tell us that receive the round table of the Knights of this monastery of the Benedictines was a the Order of the Garter; and St. George's favorite resort of Henry VI., and here the Chapel, the burial-place of present and remains of that king found a resting-place past royalty—these three structures pre-previous to their interment at Windsor. sent a particularly striking appearance A picturesque old place, the Porch House, from the river. Yet it would seem that marks the home of the poet Cowley. one must lose most of the charm of this His pretty gardens looked out upon St. spot if he fails to stroll along the forest Ame's Hill, and were interspersed with walks, the elm-shaded drives, and the farm shady trees, one of which, a famous old lands of the great park, or to enjoy that horse - chestnut, is pointed out as that finest of English views from the noble beneath which the poet frequently sat. terrace that surrounds the walls, antique There is something singularly unfortutowers, and embattlements of the castle. nate in Cowley's career, and one longs to Among the more striking points that meet know more of the latent worth of that the

eye are the Gothic chapel and buildings poet whom Milton ranked with Shaksof Eton, occupying a most beautiful site peare and Spenser, and who enjoyed the amid trees and sweet meadows" on the highest esteem of Pope and Johnson. opposite side of the river,

There is a beautiful touch of pathos in the "Where grateful Science still adores

lines of Pope over that solemn procession Her llenry's holy shade."

that followed the remains of Cowley down

the Thames to Westminster Abbey. The grand old playing fields, sloping -() early lost! What tears the river shed gracefully down to the river, and adorn

When the sad pomp along his banks was led !" ed with stately elms and pretty green lawns, are wonderfully captivating. It

If one should walk a mile or so to the seems as if nature and art could not have west of Chertsey, up the slope of St. Anne's produced a lovelier spot for the early boy- Hill, he would reach that delightful spot hood of such men as Gray, Fox, Welling- where Charles James Fox lived and workton, Hallam, and Gladstone.

ed during the summer months. I soon left this tempting spot, and fol- dens, woods, and lawns, and the view lowed the sinuous course of the stream, over the surrounding country, are all so varied with lines of willows and water- charming that one can well understand lilies along its bank, and dotted here and how it was that Fox "loved the place there with picturesque islets. One of with a passionate fondness." these-Magna Charta-lying nearly op- doubt revelled in the joys of country life. posite the long level meadow of Runny. “Where is Fox now?" was asked of Genmede, recalled many historical associa- eral Fitzpatrick at a critical stage in the tions, for

French Revolution. “I dare say he is at There was that Charter seal'd, wherein the crownels, or watching the jays steal his cher

home, sitting on a hay-cock reading novAll marks of arbitrary power lays down."

ries," was the reply. I spent some time at the little cottage on Setting out from Chertsey, my canoe the island, and examined with a certain began to leak quite freely, and this was degree of curiosity a stone table, on which an excuse for landing at the meadows of an inscription declares that “On this isl. Coway Stakes, where accounts say Cæsar and, in June, 1215, King John of England encountered the "woad-stained" Britons signed the Magna Charta."

under Cassivelaunus, who had sought to There was little to justify any further impede his progress by planting stakes on delay until I reached Chertsey, where the bank and in the bed of the river. the ancient abbey and that lovely point The scenery was not particularly interestof view, St. Anne's Hill, were sufficient in- ing at this point, and so soon as the canoe's ducements to draw up the canoe. There stern was well besmeared with soap--the are, indeed, very few remains of this once only expedient at hand-I paddled on to

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THE SOOLD'S BRIDLE.

ward that extremely picturesque bridge | the bream that swim in such abundance of Walton that Turner has made the sub- in these waters, while his companion was ject of one of his most charming pictures. sulkily complaining of his luck. The

Here the old vil latter could not understand it, and would
lage church con not be told that it was from any want of
tains many inter- skill and experience that he failed to hook
esting objects, a fish.
one of which As I paddled on, the river seemed to lose
the scold's bridle those charms that gave such peculiar love-
-does not speak liness to the scenery of the Upper Thames,
very well for the though here and there some pretty villas
Walton women gave a pleasing character to the banks.
of two centuries One of these, standing some distance

ago, for the in- back, with beautiful grounds sloping scription upon this curious contrivance down to the river, and weeping-willows tells of one who suffered great material dipping their branches in the stream, is loss" through the instrumentality of a celebrated as having been for twenty-five gossiping, lying woman."

years the country residence of Garrick aft

er his retirement from the stage. Here the * Chester presents Walton with a bridle, To curb women's tongues that talk too idle.” actor entertained at dinner parties and

garden parties such men as Horace WalThe unfortunate female with tongue tied pole and the Duke of Grafton; and here fast was led about the streets, or exposed every May-day village children loved to to public gaze in the market-places. romp, and partake of the cakes, wine, and

This portion of the Thames is a favorite other good things that Garrick set apart resort of anglers, who can be seen day in for them. The first thing that attracted and day out in their punts, moored close my attention, as the canoe neared this by the bridge, or under the shade of Oat- charming villa of Hampton, was an oclands Park-once the cherished home of tagonal structure, apparently a summerthe young Queen Elizabeth. One old fel- house, but originally built to receive Roulow seemed to be having fine sport with | biliac's statue of Shakspeare, which was

being executed according to Garrick's or Maze"; some were admiring the wonder, and for which the vain actor sat as a derful “vine" and its huge clusters of model.

Black Hamburgs ; others were *doing" It was now but a short paddle to Hamp- the palace, or whiling away the time on a ton Court-my journey's end—and the rustic seat beneath some shady tree. That sight of Wolsey's old palace was particu- spot where kings resided from the time of larly welcome after three days of compara- Henry VIII. to that of George II. has tively solitary life on the Thames. There now become a public thoroughfare. The was a picnic party in the neighborhood rooms once frequented by royalty are now when I arrived. One of the London assigned to the widows of such men as steamboats had landed hundreds of men, have done their country noble service, or women, and children, who seemed every are thrown open to the throngs of sightwhere-about the town, in the palace seers who go to look at the pictures, or to grounds, under the chestnuts of Bushy satisfy their curiosity in whatever tends Park, and along the banks of the river. to reveal the domestic life of the royal Some were losing themselves in the household.

Α Ν Ν Ε.
CHAPTER III.

walls here and there; there was no furni** By this means was the young head furnished ture save the tables and shelves made by with a considerable miscellany of things and shad- the island carpenter, and one old leathern ows of things : History in anthentic fragments lay arm-chair, the parson's own, a miracle of mingled with fabulous chimeras, wherein also was comfort, age, and hanging leather tatters. reality."'-CARLYLE.

But on the shelves and on the tables, on “Wassamequin, Nashoonon, and Massaconomet did voluntarily submit themselves to the English, the floor and on the broad window-sills, and promise to be willing from time to time to be were books; they reached the ceiling on instructed in the knowledge of God. Being asked the shelves; they wainscoted the walls to not to do any unnecessary work on the Sabbath day, the height of several feet all around the they answered, 'It is easy to them; they have not much to do on any day, and can well take rest on

room; small volumes were piled on the that day as any other.' So then we, causing them to narrow mantel as far up as they could go understand the articles, and all the ten command without toppling over, and the tables were ments of God, and they freely assenting to all, they loaded also. Aisles were kept open leadwere solemnly received; and the Court gave each of them a coat of two yards of cloth, and their dinner; ing to the door, to the windows, and to and to them and their men, every one of them, a

the hearth, where the ragged arm-chair cup of sack at their departure. So they took leave, stood, and where there was a small paand went away."'-— Jassachusetts Colonial Records.

rade-ground of open floor ; but everyR. GASTON sat in his library, study- where else the printed thoughts held

His clerical sway. The old fire-place was large and coat was old and spotted, his table was of deep, and here burned night and day, rough wood, the floor uncarpeted ; by throughout the winter, a fire which made right, Poverty should have made herself the whole room bright; add to this the prominent there. But she did not. Per- sunshine streaming through the broad, haps she liked the old chaplain, who show- low, uncurtained windows, and you have ed a fine, amply built person under her the secret of the cheerfulness in the very reign, with florid complexion, bright blue face of a barren lack of everything we are eyes, and a curly brown wig-very differ- accustomed to call comfort. ent in aspect from her usual lean and dis The Reverend James Gaston was an Engmal retinue; perhaps, also, she stopped lishman by birth. On coming to America here herself to warm her cold heart now he had accepted a chaplaincy in the army, and then in the hot, bright, crowded little with the intention of resigning it as soon room, which was hers by right, although as he had become sufficiently familiar she did not claim it, enjoying it, however, with the ways of the Church in this as a miserly money-lender enjoys the fine country to feel at ease in a parish. But house over which he holds a mortgage, years had passed, and he was a chaplain rubbing his hands exultingly, as, clad in still; for evidently the country parishes his thin old coat, he walks by. Certain were not regulated according to his home ly the plastering had dropped from the ideas, the rector's authority-yes, even the

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tenure of his rectorship-being dependent “Her name is-here, I have it written upon the chance wills and fancies of his down-Mrs. Evelina Crangall," said the people. Here was no dignity, no time for chaplain, reading aloud from his notepleasant classical studies, and no approval book, in a slow, sober voice. Evidently of them; on the contrary, a continuous it was a matter of moment to him to keep going out to tea, and a fear of offending, that name well in his mind. it might be, a warden's wife, who very Public opinion required that Dr. Gaston likely had been brought up a Dissenter. should employ a Protestant servant ; no The Reverend James Gaston therefore pre- one else was obliged to conform, but the ferred the government for a master. congregation felt that a stand must be

Dr. Gaston held the office of post chap- made somewhere, and they made it, like lain, having been, on application, select- a chalk line, at the parson's threshold. ed by the council of administration. He Now it was very well known that there had no military rank, but as there hap- were no Protestants belonging to the class pened to be quarters to spare, a cottage of servants on the island who could cook was assigned to him, and as he had had at all, that talent being confined to the the good fortune to be liked and respected French quarter-breeds and to occasional by all the officers who had succeeded each Irish soldiers' wives, none of them Protother on the little island, his position, un estants. The poor parson's cooking was like that of some of his brethren, was en- passed from one incompetent hand to andurable, and even comfortable. He had other-lake-sailors' wives, wandering embeen a widower for many years; he had igrants, moneyless forlorn females left by never cared to marry again, but had long steamers, belonging to that strange floatago recovered his cheerfulness, and had | ing population that goes forever travelbrought up, intellectually at least, two ling up and down the land, without apchildren whom he loved as if they had parent motive save a vague El - Dorado been his own-the boy Erastus Pronando, hope whose very conception would be imand Anne Douglas. The children re- possible in any other country save this. turned his affection heartily, and made a Mrs. Evelina Crangall was a hollow-chestgreat happiness in his lonely life. The ed woman with faded blue eyes, one promgirl was his good scholar, the boy his bad inent front tooth, scanty light hair, and one; yet the teacher was severe with for a form a lattice-work of bones. She Anne, and indulgent to the boy. If any preserved, however, a somewhat warlike one had asked the reason, perhaps he aspect in her limp calico, and maintained would have said that girls were docile by that she thoroughly understood the maknature, whereas boys, having more temp- ing of coffee, but that she was accustomed tations, required more lenity; or perhaps to the use of a French coffee-pot. Anne, that girls who, owing to the constitution answering serenely that no French cofof society, never advanced far in their fee-pot could be obtained in that kitchen, studies, should have all the incitement of went to work and explained the whole severity while those studies lasted, where- process from the beginning, the woman as boys, who are to go abroad in the world meanwhile surveying her with suspicion, and learn from life, need no such severi- which gradually gave way before the firm ty. But the real truth lay deeper than but pleasant manner. With a long list this, and the chaplain himself was partly of kindred Evelinas, Anne had had dealconscious of it; he felt that the founda- ings before. Sometimes her teachings eftions must be laid accurately and deeply fected a change for the better, sometimes in a nature like that possessed by this they did not, but in any case the Evelinas young girl.

seldom remained long. They were wan“Good-morning, uncle,” said Anne, derers by nature, and had sudden desires entering and putting down her Latin to visit San Francisco, or to "go down books (as children they had adopted the the river to Newerleens." This morning, fashion of calling their teacher "uncle"). while making her explanation, Anne made “Was your coffee good this morning ?" coffee too.

a delicious cupful “Ah, well, so-so, child, so-so," replied which she carried back with her into the the chaplain, hardly aroused yet from his library, and the chaplain, far away in the problem.

chess country, came down to earth imme** Then I must go out and speak to-to diately in order to drink it. Then they - what is this one's name, uncle ?" opened the Latin books, and Ame trans

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lated her page of Livy, her page of Cicero, my duty to keep her from making herself and recited her rules correctly. She liked positively unattractive." Latin; its exactness suited her. Mrs. Bry "Greek need not do that," said Dr. Gasden was wrong when she said that the girl ton, shortly. studied Greek. Dr. Gaston had longed to “It need not, but it does. Let me ask teach her that golden tongue, but here you one question : did you ever fall in William Douglas had interfered. “Teach love, or come anywhere near falling in her Latin if you like, but not Greek,” he love, with a girl who understood Greek ?” said. "It would injure the child-make * That is because only the homely ones what is called a blue-stocking of her, I take to it," replied the chaplain, fencing a suppose—and it is my duty to stand be- little. tween her and injury.”

But Anne was not taught Greek. Aft“Ah! ah! you want to make a belle of er Cicero she took up algebra, then asher, do you ?" said the cheery chaplain. tronomy. After that she read aloud from

“I said it was my duty; I did not say a ponderous Shakspeare, and the old man it was my wish,” replied the moody fa- corrected her accentuation, and questionther. "If I could have my wish, Anne ed her on the meanings. A number of the should never know what a lover is all her grand old plays the girl knew almost enlife long."

tirely by heart; they had been her reading“What! you do not wish to have her books from childhood. The down-pouring marry, then? There are happy marriages. light of the vivid morning sunshine and Come, Douglas, don't be morbid."

the up-coming white glare of the ice below “I know what men are. And you and met and shone full upon her face and figure I are no better."

as she bent over the old volume laid open “But she may love."

on the table before her, one hand support"Ah! ere it is; she may. And that ing her brow, the other resting on the yelis what I meant when I said that it was low page. Her hands were firm, white,

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