impossible. What a contrast to Westminster Hall! Do you remember the "Barbaras Ædes" of Gray, and how we used to quote and apply it to one another at college, when preparing for the bar? *

But I have forgotten to tell you of an avenue of elms leading up an opposite hill, in romantic perspective, so distinct with their grey stems below, yet so obscure from their darkening foliage above, that it makes one dream of hamadryads, and think of the shrieks that resounded through the enchanted wood of Rinaldo.

But, if ever thus peopled, it is so no longer, for the only inhabitants now to be seen are some very picturesque deer; and the only sounds heard, the notes of the stockdove.

What a place for waking meditation on the passing world, or a drowsy reverie on that which is done by! In truth, after having much indulged in both, I often fall felicitously asleep, and dream, inHe means the Ode:

"Barbaras Edes aditure mecum,
Quas Eris semper fovet inquieta
Lis ubi sonat, et togata
Estuat agmen.

Dulcius quanto patulis sub aulmi
Hospitæ ramis temere jacentem
Sic libris horas, tenuisque inertes
Fallere Musa."

fluenced no doubt, by the cooing all about me, that I am the Damætas of the pastoral,

"Notavi,

Ipse locum aeriæ quo congessere palumbes."

Sir Robert is not a little jealous, at my preferring these solitary contemplations to the more animated discussions which are going on every day in the hall, on the danger of the times, and the changes in our manners. These, especially when any conservative neighbours (for he allows no other) come to visit him, rouse him to the top of his bent, and he sometimes breaks into a fine burst of eloquence, by which you, or even Wingate could profit-if he could profit by any thing but the stocks.

Elevation of soul, and an innate spurning of deceit, are at any rate his characteristics; which, I find, were formerly elicited by other feelings than those produced by political subjects; for, in more respects than one, he is a modern Sir Roger de Coverley. In fact, I find (prepare for wonders!) that what both you and I suspected is truethat he was in earlier times devotedly in love, and that he even ran a-tilt with a rival knight for the sake of his mistress. But though, like the same Sir Roger, he was ill-treated, he did not resemble him by consuming himself in vain ravings, after his confidence was betrayed, and his hopes disap

pointed-but threw the traitress from him, as unworthy of his esteem, and therefore of his affection.

There! I have excited all your curiosity, and mean, like an able dramatist, to excite it still more by not gratifying it. To tell you the truth, I am not yet prepared with the history myself, but am to know more.

Till then, farewell.

W. F.

LETTER II.

THE ANSWER.

PENRUDDOCK in love! For the sake of heaven let us hear. Of the old school, no doubt. A cha. peau bras and hair well powdered, shoe and kneebuckles, a bag and sword (certainly the latter, for you say he had a tilting-match)! What a pity he could not show like one of his own chivalrous pictures-trunk hose, little boots, a dark cloak, long rapier, and high-crowned hat; the very personification of

"Brave pursuit and chivalrous emprise."

Of course we shall see him like Lord Herbert of Cherbury, lying under an oak, watching the moon, and composing verses on his mistress Who she was, how she ill-treated him, and what his duel, I am absolutely on tenterhooks to know.

Pray don't delay to find out this secret, whicn must be precious to all lovers of romance; among them (though that dullest of things an equity lawyer),

Your faithful,

C. STRICKLAND.

LETTER III.

Fitzwalter to Strickland.

MYSTERY.

I THOUGHT I should excite you. Indeed I judged by myself. For, say what we please, the blood that has not circulated above thirty summers, will not be prevented from flowing brisk as the sap in April buds, even by the atmosphere of Lincoln's-Inn. If this be so with you, in your prison, judge what it must be with me, who have so early escaped!

But to proceed methodically, as a Chancery-man would no doubt wish, I must tell you what led to the interesting discovery I made in Penruddock's history.

When I had got into my romantic apartment, so secluded, as I told you, from the rest of the house, I observed that the baronet, though courteous, and glad to see me every where else, never came to see me there. He warned me, indeed, that he never would; for it was a maxim with him, he said, that