gle
in the road, turned abruptly from all further comment on the subject by
saying, "We are now, I suppose, entering your territory. Does not this
white gate lead to your new (at least new to me) abode?"

"It does," replied Cole, opening the said gate, and pausing as if to
suffer his guest and rival to look round and admire. The house, in full
view, was of red brick, small and square, faced with stone copings,
and adorned in the centre with a gable roof, on which was a ball of
glittering metal. A flight of stone steps led to the porch, which was of
fair size and stately, considering the proportions of the mansion: over
the door was a stone shield of arms, surmounted by a stag's head; and
above this heraldic ornament was a window of great breadth, compared to
the other conveniences of a similar nature. On either side of the house
ran a slight iron fence, the protection of sundry plots of gay flowers
and garden shrubs, while two peacocks were seen slowly stalking towards
the enclosure to seek a shelter from the increasing shower. At the back
of the building, thick trees and a rising hill gave a meet defence from
the winds of winter; and, in front, a sloping and small lawn afforded
pasture for few sheep and two pet deer. Towards the end of this lawn
were two large fishponds, shaded by rows of feathered trees. On the
margin of each of these, as if emblematic of ancient customs, was a
common tent; and in the intermediate space was a rustic pleasure-house,
fenced from the encroaching cattle, and half hid by surrounding laurel
and the parasite ivy.

All together there was a quiet and old-fashioned comfort, and even
luxury, about the place, which suited well with the eccentric character
of the abdicated chief; and Clarence, as he gazed around, really felt
that he might perhaps deem the last state of the owner not worse than
the first.

Unmindful of the rain, which now began to pour fast and full, Cole
suffered "Little John's" rein to fall over his neck, and the spoiled
favourite to pluck the smooth grass beneath, while he pointed out to
Clarence the various beauties of his seat.

"There, sir," said he, "by those ponds in which, I assure you, old Isaac
might have fished with delight, I pass many a summer's day. I was
always a lover of the angle, and the farthest pool is the most beautiful
bathing-place imaginable;--as glorious Geoffrey Chaucer says,--

'The gravel's gold; the water pure as glass,
The baukes round the