tormy, that
we could not see rifts of sunshine breaking through the entanglements of
adversity.

_Our mind, a kingdom was, in every clime,
With souls triumphant over tide and time;
And though the world might frown upon our way
We believed in God and sunshine every day!_

The strolling players, literary guild and traveling nobles never failed in
passing through Stratford to visit Shakspere at his beautiful and
comfortable home at "New Place." It was Liberty Hall to every guest that
passed the threshold of the retired Bard, where like a full-rigged ship on
a summer sea, he moved down in peace, through the sunset beams of a
brilliant life, accompanied by his friends and affectionate daughters into
the harbor of rest beneath the walls of old Trinity Church.

Susannah, the oldest daughter, had married Dr. John Hall several years
before the poet's death, and occupied the old Shakspere house on Henley
street, and her mother lived with the family, a solace to her daughter and
beautiful granddaughter, Elizabeth Hall.

Mrs. Shakspere, the buxom Anne Hathaway of vanished years, was entirely
subdued and found consolation in her devoted daughters and religious
duties. She could be found at every prayer meeting and Sunday sermon in the
Shakspere pew of Trinity Church.

William seldom attended Puritan meetings, Episcopal conclaves, or Papist
masses. He paid formal respect, at long range, to all sacerdotal
ceremonies, not bothering himself about dogmas, creeds and bulls, put forth
by little, cunning man for earthly power and financial benefit.

_He believed in God and in himself,
Ignoring those who lived for pelf,
And through his age and verdant youth
He ever worshiped naked Truth!_

Judith, the beautiful and intellectual daughter, kept house for her
illustrious father, and entered heartily into all his social and business
schemes for the improvement of the town of Stratford.

Thus days, weeks, months and years were passed in pleasant conclave with
literary and neighboring friends, until the winter of 1615 and 1616, when a
severe throat trouble afflicted the Bard, in conjunction with acute pains
in the head, that prevented the solace of sleep, and which turned into
chronic insomnia.

In January, Shakspere, in anticipation of his temporary exit from this
world, determined to make his will and bequeath his property in detail to
his daughter, relatives and friends. He called in Francis Collins,