y her
mother, or governess. She was always very simply dressed, and always
wore a sweet, gentle look on her fresh, young face.

In Hyde Park, every pleasant afternoon, there may be seen hosts of
splendid equipages, and hundreds of ladies and gentlemen mounted on
elegant horses, riding up and down a long, broad avenue, called "Rotten
Row," which is devoted entirely to equestrians.

In Hyde Park stood the Crystal Palace--now removed to Sydenham--where
it stands on an eminence, and seems in itself a great mountain of light.

A smaller, but yet a fine park, is that of St. James. King Charles I.
walked through this from the Palace of St. James to the scaffold before
White Hall, on the morning of his execution. He was very calm, and on
his way he pointed out a tree to one of his attendants, as having been
planted by his brother, the young Prince Henry, who, if he had lived,
would have been king,--and poor Charles might have kept his head;
which, doubtless, was of more value to him than all the crowns of all
the kingdoms of the world.

King Charles II. made many improvements in this park, and took much
pleasure in riding, sporting, and idly strolling here. He might often
be seen with half a dozen dogs at his heels, lounging along by the
banks of the ponds, feeding the ducks with his own delicate royal
hands. The foolish people were greatly moved and delighted at this,
thinking that a king, who could be so kind and gracious to dogs and
ducks, must be a good sovereign; but they were wofully mistaken there.

Regent's Park was so named for the Prince Regent, afterwards George IV.
This park is extensive, and exceedingly beautiful. It has winding
roads and shady paths, ornamental plantations, clear, shining sheets of
water--noble trees and fairy-like bowers, so secluded and shadowy, that
the birds sing and nest in them as fearlessly as in the deep heart of a
country wood.

Within this park are several elegant villas--among which I best
remember St. Dunstan's Villa--the residence of the late Marquis of
Hertford, about whom and this place I have heard a pretty little story,
which I will tell you.

In Fleet Street, London, stands the Church of St. Dunstan, built on the
site of a church of the same name, which was torn down about thirty
years ago.

The old Church of St. Dunstan had a curious clock, which was considered
a very wonderful piece of mechanism, almost a work of witchcraft.
Standing out on the side of the churc