d in the tongues, the manners, and the literature of many nations;
but who is himself English to the backbone in person, thought, and
feeling. Orthodox is he, no doubt. Nowhere are church and schools, and
parish visitings, better cared for; but he has a knack of attending also
to the creature comforts of all about him, of calling beef and blankets
in aid of his precepts, which has a wonderful effect in promoting their
efficacy. Mansion and man are large alike, and alike overflowing with
hospitality and kindliness. His original and poignant conversation is so
joyous and good-humored, the making every body happy is so evidently his
predominant taste, that the pungency only adds to the flavor of his
talk, and never casts a moment's shade over its sunny heartiness.

Right opposite the Rectory terrace, framed like a picture by the rarest
and stateliest trees, stands the object of my pilgrimage, Grays' Court,
a comparatively modern house, erected amongst the remains of a vast old
castellated mansion, belonging first to the noble family of Gray, who
gave their name not merely to the manor, but to the district; then to
the house of Knollys; and latterly to the Stapletons, two venerable
ladies of that name being its present possessors.

All my life I had heard of Grays' Court; of the rich yet wild country in
which it is placed; of the park so finely undulated, and so profusely
covered by magnificent timber; of the huge old towers which seem to
guard and sentinel the present house; of the far extended walls, whose
foundations may yet be traced, in dry seasons, among the turf of the
lawn; of the traditions which assign the demolition of those ancient
walls to the wars of the Commonwealth; and of the strange absence of all
documentary evidence upon the subject.

Another cause for my strong desire to see this interesting place, is to
be found in its association with one of those historical personages in
whom I have always taken the warmest interest. Lord Essex (whose mother
was the famous Lettice Knollys, who had had for her second husband
another of Queen Elizabeth's favorites, Robert Dudley, Earl of
Leicester), when confined in London, a prey to the tyranny of Elizabeth,
petitioned, in one of those eloquent letters to the Virgin Queen which
will always remain amongst the earliest and finest specimens of English
prose, to be allowed to repair, for the benefit of his health, "to
Master Comptroller's house at Grays." Ah! we can fanc