e word.

We must be careful lest, losing sight of the many attributes of chivalry,
we incline towards the erroneous view that it was confined entirely to
the upper classes. That the manuscript volumes of the romantic tales
which were so eagerly purchased and treasured by the educated classes
could never possibly come into the hands of the rude illiterate peasants
is a fallacious argument. Scanty indeed would be our folk-lore had it all
been transmitted graphically. Chaucer bears evidence of the widespread
popularity of these heroic tales in his day:

'Alexaundres storie is so commune
That every wight that hath discrecioune
Hath herde somewhat or al of his fortune.'

The incidents of these immortal tales were as well known to the humblest
as to the highest in the land. We have abundant evidence of their
popularity when recounted in front of the fire in hostel or homestead.
Even so late as Milton's day it was the custom to recount knightly
adventures and fairy tales about the evening fireside. When

the live-long daylight fail
Then to the Spicy Nut-brown Ale,
With stories told of many a feat,
How _Faery Mab_ the junkets eat,
. . . . . .
Where throngs of Knights and Barons bold,
In weeds of Peace high triumphs hold,
With store of Ladies, whose bright eyes
Rain influence, and judge the prise,

until at length

Thus done the Tales, to bed they creep,
By whispering Winds soon lull'd asleep.

How great a part of the pleasures of this world have they missed whose
pulses are never stirred by the Spirit of Romance! Content and Peace of
Mind may be had by all who will offer up sacrifices to obtain them; but
Imagination is not to be had at any price unless it be a part of our
birthright. Content may yield a tranquillity of mind that refreshes the
soul, but it is Imagination alone that can produce that spiritual
exaltation which takes our minds from worldly things, carries us
backwards or forwards through countless ages of the past or aeons of
futurity, and enables us to ride in the chariot of Phoebus. It is a
vast library in itself.

'He had small need of books; for many a tale
Traditionary round the mountains hung,
And many a legend, peopling the dark woods,
Nourished Imagination in her growth.'

It was the fortune of our book-hunter once to spend an afternoon in June
upon the downs near Winche