made him ever remembered for noble heart and valiant achievements. It was in the days of tournaments and jousts, when pageantry was the delight of maidens, and of men of war no less.

There also lived in England at this stirring time, a young man named Robert Macham, who in some way became acquainted with fair Anne and naturally fell in love with her. Men in high station seem to have had but two occupations in those gay days; going to the wars when there were wars, and paying delicate attentions to fair women in days of peace. As there happened to be war somewhere most of the time, there was generally enough fighting to be done. It happened that Robert, though deserving Anne's love which she gave him with all her heart, was not of a high and aristocratic family, and her friends determined that the two should never marry.

They arrested poor Robert, and put him in prison, whence he escaped, and not willing to give up his fair Anne without another effort, followed her to Bristol, whither she had been carried, and there managed to gain opportunities to see her. He found that she remained true to her promise,

and she gladly entered into a fatal plan to flee to France.

When all was ready, Anne took her horse and a trusty groom, and went out one day for an airing, so she declared. In those days, all was considered fair and right in such a cause. Once at a safe distance from the house, she galloped her palfrey until she reached a spot on the Bristol Channel where Robert was anxiously waiting with a boat. The sails were already unfurled, and but a moment was required to weigh anchor and put to sea. The happy runaways

sailed gayly down the coast of Cornwall,

All down the thundering shores of Bude and Bos,

trusting to the seamen to steer them towards fair France. Alas, little did they dream that the wind that so softly swelled their sails was to turn to fierce storm, which should drive them far from the gay shores they thought so near, and on which they hoped for a life of so much happiness.

The morning of that stormy night found them drifting away to unknown regions. They were out in the broad Atlantic, an ocean of which at the time

the world knew nothing! There was a tradition, of which it is possible they had heard, that there existed in this ocean a fair land of such charms that nothing except Paradise could be compared with it. This happy country was called Atlantis, and as the stories about it are older than any accounts of explorations of the ocean, we may suppose that the sea was named from the land. It is said that the great Athenian law-giver, Solon, who lived some twenty-five hundred years ago, went to Egypt and heard from the wise priests there about the island of Atlantis, which, they said, had been swallowed up nine thousand years before their day in the waters of the great Western Plato gave a description of it to the Greeks, as he had heard it spoken of by Solon. It was the domain of Poseidon, or Neptune, who had a magnificent palace in the centre of it. There were lofty mountains, noble rivers, rich jewels, beautiful birds and useful animals. The climate was temperate, and the people were all happy until they lost their high character and fell into bad habits. Then it was, as I suppose, (for Plato's narrative, like a continued story in a magazine, stops suddenly at the interesting

ocean.

place,) that they were all drowned, and their island with its loveliness, lost forever.

Anne and Robert might, as I have said, have known of this island, but I fear that at the time we are speaking of, they had thoughts only for their own sad condition, for the storm that was carrying them off did not grow less severe as hour after hour heavily dragged on. Their sailors knew only the route to France, along the shores and across the Channel, and were as much lost as the runaways when the wind roared and the fierce waves drove them out of sight of the headlands of England. Day after day the storm beat upon the little vessel. Poor Anne was overcome with remorse and fright, and, I doubt not, wished a thousand times that she had never run away from her home.

After two weeks of these terrible frights and fears, the seamen joyfully saw land. Birds flew about the ship, sweet perfumes were wafted from noble forests, and hope rose in the hearts of all the weary shipload. Some went ashore and came back saying the land was like nother Eden, and Robert determined to take his fair

Anne into the lovely place. They

found no men, no women; nothing living but gay birds that did not fear them, and animals that had no fierceness. Mountain brooks carried coolness to the valleys, and rippled musically over sparkling pebbles. Here, under a great tree, in a pleasant meadow, Robert made a bower for Anne, and thought that rest would restore her to strength. He left some of his men in the ship to watch it, and then gave himself up to the delights of the scene. Alas, storms came even to that lovely land, and on the third day, the sea rose in its power, and the waves swallowed up the little ship, leaving no more marks of it than had been left of the great island of Atlantis, with its beauties and inhabitants, ages before.

Poor Anne! She had been sad before, but now she was fairly overcome, and feeling certain that her most dismal forebodings had come to pass, she died after three days more of painful life, during which she was not able to speak, even to Robert. The tragedy overcame the strong man, and his companions were unable to comfort him. Upbraiding himself, he wasted away and died of a broken heart. The sea

men buried them both under the great tree that had