in sight of the little hamlet of Clarges; beholding that tranquil English village scattered amidst the orchards and gardens of its richlywooded valley retreat, he would have deemed himself rewarded for the journey in the prospect that lay before him. For all he saw would have told him that the repose he coveted was here presented in its fairest shape; and while rejoicing that the rugged mountain and the lonely common were alike left behind, he would have gazed with a new-born tenderness on a scene owing all its beauty to that excessive culture so rarely allied with sublimity.

Lying in the centre of a landscape that spread in soft slope or level plain till met by, and melting into, the hazy purple of the distance; in rich and lavish cultivation, Clarges could alone be rivalled by that queen of British villages the brilliant and poet-worshipped Richmond. Richmond, indeed, can boast the silver windings of the Thames; but Clarges had its

own delicious trout stream, fresh and gurgling -a world of orchards nigh its banks.

Over these the light of evening now glowed in soft and mellow tints, while, in the doorways of the rural dwellings, to which they made the background, stood-often in groups, often singlymany of the village inhabitants; others sat beneath the shelter of the porch, or leaned by the wooden palings fencing in the cottage gardens, where flourished, with many hardy English flowers, as well those herbs which suited for seasoning or for medicine-to the poor so often supply the place of the apothecary and the cook.

Here grew hedges of lavender and rosemary, and beds of mint and thyme and marjoram; and marigold for the bees to murmur about and feast on in the summer season. Even now, an early adventurer, the first of his tribe, flew slowly along, settling at will upon the dainty produce. The heartsease was now

in bloom; the wallflower, too, shed its rich perfume on the air; and, though the crocuses had ceased to gladden the earth, the flowering currant, the primrose, and the daffodil supplied their place. The cottages of Hampshire, halfburied in fruit trees, with their jasmine and rose-clustered walls, are hardly richer in all cottage adorning flowers than were those of Clarges, that waited but the breath of the summer months to burst into yet richer and more manifold luxuriance of clove carnations and double stocks; sweet pea and mignionette; the sturdy hollyhock and the velvet-coated sweetwilliam; when clothing their white walls and sheltered porches with honeysuckle and later clematis, they would lure the swarms of bees to cluster round their summer harvest, and chain the wandering steps of the poet, as he here beheld` the realisation of his Arcadian dreams of felicity.

Over this fair scene the sunset still lingered. The orchards laden with their snowy wealth,

the promise of the golden pippin and the topaz jargonel,' glowed in the warm light of the eventide. The narcissus by the stream scarce stirred in the tranquil air, while breathing its faint and exquisite odours over the glassy surface that gave back its lovely image, and mirrored as well the various and shifting hues of the sunset. The toil of the day was over, and many now lingered in the air, tasting the sweetness of that repose which brought to the ear the hum of the bee, and the song of the bird, for from the woodlands was now caught the mellow notes of the blackbird, while each day as it hastened the spring to summer, his song was waxing rarer.

Here come into sight the tall chimneys of the Manor House-but the house is hid by that grove of venerable trees. Never mind, at another time we shall get a closer survey. That cottage with its acre of verdant lawn in front-its belt of flower-knots circling the

house-its swelling emerald hedge, girdling in the entire-belongs to the vicar; it is his miniature paradise; perhaps he can hardly image one he would more delight in. Being a widower, and without children, his maiden sister resides with him, and their chief pleasure, next to caring for the poor, lies in cultivating their tulips and carnations.

Nearer to the village, but yet removed a sufficient distance from the humbler dwellings, stands the house of Mr. Butler, the retired medical practitioner. Now there was, perhaps, no one in the vicinity that had furnished so inexhaustible a theme for village criticism and gossip as Mr. Butler-partly because he had come to Clarges a poor man, and no one could exactly divine how he had become a rich one. Many years since-some twenty or more-he had sought to step into the shoes of the then lately deceased Dr. Madden. In this attempt he was opposed, and it was generally thought,