ess of Lionardos. Yet do
you?"

"Then, do you remember our pleasant walks to Enfield, and Potter's
Bar, and Waltham, when we had a holyday--holydays, and all other fun,
are gone, now we are rich--and the little hand-basket in which I used
to deposit our day's fare of savoury cold lamb and salad--and how you
would pry about at noon-tide for some decent house, where we might go
in, and produce our store--only paying for the ale that you must call
for--and speculate upon the looks of the landlady, and whether she was
likely to allow us a table-cloth--and wish for such another honest
hostess, as Izaak Walton has described many a one on the pleasant
banks of the Lea, when he went a fishing--and sometimes they would
prove obliging enough, and sometimes they would look grudgingly upon
us--but we had cheerful looks still for one another, and would eat our
plain food savorily, scarcely grudging Piscator his Trout Hall?
Now,--when we go out a day's pleasuring, which is seldom moreover, we
_ride_ part of the way--and go into a fine inn, and order the best of
dinners, never debating the expense--which, after all, never has half
the relish of those chance country snaps, when we were at the mercy of
uncertain usage, and a precarious welcome."

"You are too proud to see a play anywhere now but in the pit. Do you
remember where it was we used to sit, when we saw the Battle of
Hexham, and the Surrender of Calais, and Bannister and Mrs. Bland in
the Children in the Wood--when we squeezed out our shillings a-piece
to sit three or four times in a season in the one-shilling
gallery--where you felt all the time that you ought not to have
brought me--and more strongly I felt obligation to you for having
brought me--and the pleasure was the better for a little shame--and
when the curtain drew up, what cared we for our place in the house, or
what mattered it where we were sitting, when our thoughts were with
Rosalind in Arden, or with Viola at the Court of Illyria? You used to
say, that the Gallery was the best place of all for enjoying a play
socially--that the relish of such exhibitions must be in proportion to
the infrequency of going--that the company we met there, not being in
general readers of plays, were obliged to attend the more, and did
attend, to what was going on, on the stage--because a word lost would
have been a chasm, which it was impossible for them to fill up. With
such reflections we consoled our pride then--and I appeal t