e, in part of which refreshments are
provided. Some of the views in the park are exceedingly pretty,
especially in the direction of the deer park, looking towards the
mansion, where the old parish church stands out against the trees,
whilst the fine open tower of a new church, with a graceful spire, rises
above the green foliage.

Stoke Newington has been the home of various celebrated men: John
Howard, the philanthropist, who did so much to alleviate the horrors of
prison-life; Defoe, whom we all love for the sake of _Robinson Crusoe_;
Dr. Watts, author of many of our best-known hymns, among the number.

It is pleasant to know that the leafy walk of the Green Lanes is still
an attractive one for Londoners, although the mossy banks of former days
have long been lined with handsome houses, and though a wide expanse of
densely populated town lies between Clissold Park and the street still
known as London Wall, whence the Moor Gate, with all its companion
portals, have long vanished.

HE SET THE EXAMPLE.

A gentleman was once entertaining his friends at a grand dinner. He was
a sad boaster, and was often guilty of describing deeds that he had done
when an officer in the army, which those who knew him well felt sure
were greatly exaggerated. He was in the midst of some such anecdote when
the butler brought him word that a man wished to see him.

'Tell him I am engaged with my friends, and can see no one,' said the
gentleman, pompously.

The butler retired, but soon came back to say the man was most urgent in
wishing to speak to the gentleman, and said he had been in his regiment
at a famous battle, where he owed his life to the officer.

'Show him in! show him in!' said the host, much gratified. 'This good
fellow says I saved his life at X----,' he added, turning to his guests
as the old soldier came in. 'How was it?' he went on, 'for I am sure I
forget; in the heat of battle one does brave things almost
unconsciously.'

'It was like this, your Honour,' said the soldier: 'I owed my life to
you, for I certainly should never have thought of running away if you
had not set me the example!'

A PEEP AT NORTHERN ITALY.

It is comparatively easy now to run over to Switzerland, and through the
lovely scenery of the St. Gothard Pass, to the plains of sunny Italy;
but this land of light and song is very little known to English boys and
girls.

Of all the lovely lakes that reflect the deep blue of the sum