seen, a space, about the size of a cricket-ground, had been enclosed with booths, and within its canvas walls the green sward, and the celebrated Victoria dancing saloon were prepared for the rustic merrymakers. According to Westerham's description, nothing could exceed the admirable manner in which the fete was conducted: sobriety and decorum prevailed. The lads and lasses of the neighbouring hamlets; the toilworn mechanic of the borough; the seafaring man, with his sweetheart or wife, assembled in social intercourse to enjoy a meeting such as Sir Roger de Coverley would have delighted in. The band was very efficient, and played the country dances with a spirit that showed their hearts were enlisted in the service. Of the hot water and milk deponent did not speak; but he bore testimony to the excellence of some refreshments which he procured from The Plough, and administered to some of the rural party. The following week a fete champêtre was held at Hastings Lodge, the seat of F. North, Esq., M.P., in aid of the funds of the Mechanics' Institution. Herr Grimm's German band attended, and the proceedings terminated with a grand display of fireworks, consisting of red, blue, purple, emerald, ruby, and green pyra mids; rockets, with brilliant, variegated coloured stars; mines of saucissons, crackers, serpents, and snakes; flights of tourbillons, jets of brilliant fire, rainbows, triangular and double triangular wheels, polyluminary designs, pyramidical devices, diamond lights, golden rain, revolving suns, Roman candles, gerbes, shells, mine bags, bouquets, colash pieces, and other wonders of the pyrotechnic art, as elaborately laid forth in the programme. Independent of the above, there were occasional entertainments at the Tivoli Gardens, St. Leonards. On the gala nights the bills announced "a splendid display of fireworks, representing the siege of Sevastopol, and the taking of the Malakhoff by the French; the ascent of two balloons amidst the brilliant and variegated sparks from a thousand rockets; a grand ball, with two bands-one for quadrilles, and the other for single dances;' superb illuminations, Chinese games, bowls, skittles, swings, &c." "From the lake to the meadow, and on to our wood,- TENNYSON. The charming Mary Montague, in describing a magnificent foreign landscape, observed that she had seen nothing to equal it "except Wharncliffe." For this expression there possibly may be found a ready excuse prejudice, if you like-as touching those home-feelings which are inseparable from every bosom. Let the lover of foreign travel roam over the face of the whole earth; varying the scene with each coming day; visiting spots which bring to remembrance either those who acted conspicuous parts in the great drama of ancient days, or those who have left behind the traces of their deeds in ruined temples, in arches, in columns, in statues, and so on; his mind, without being satiated, or his frame enervated, is disposed, almost in spite of himself-perhaps "Dragging at each remove a lengthened chain," -to recur to the scenes of his boyhood, and to indulge in those pleasant remembrances of youth, which, so far from being obliterated, become more forcibly impressed with advancing age, 66 As streams their channels deeper wear." This feeling is universal: the proof of its existence impressive. The Esquimaux, brought to Europe, pines for his Polar snows and ice; his snow hut, his sledge, and his dogs; hunting the deer, the seal, and the walrus. The Bedouin, under precisely similar circumstances, sighs for a return to the Great Sandy Desert, and his plundering mode of existence. So of the wandering Moor and Arab, and the predatory herdsmen of Nubia. Civilization has many wants; a savage life few. The one is entirely dependent; the other perfectly independent, and possesses a charm which, with no wants beyond self-reliance, nothing can render unattractive. There is, however, a striking difference between a visit to scenes where civilization and refinement once prevailed, and where the remains of former greatness may still be traced; when compared with adventures among the klots of South Africa, the back-woods of America, the bush of Australia, or the courageous enterprizes of Mansfield, Parkyns, Palliser, Gorton, and Gordon Cumming. But, even amid their many perils, privations, contrivances, and encounters, it is more than probable that, evincing a spirit indomitable and a faithfulness unsurpassed, they were animated by those thoughts of home which never lose their hold on the mind, but abide when everything else fails, to the very last breath of existence. The English rover may be delighted in visiting foreign scenes, even out of the usual track of tourists. He may seek for many a lovely picture of the Seine, the Loire, or the Garonne, or amongst interminable woods and splendid forests. Pleasant to him may be the plains of Anteuil and Passy; to look over the vine-fields of Montmorency; to behold the glories of Versailles, or share in the attractions of St. Cloud; without mentioning the gaieties of the capital, or the charms of the Louvre or the Tuileries. He may trace the beauties of the wide and winding Rhine; the hills rich with blossomed trees, and fields that promise wine and corn; and smiling cities, with their fair white walls, in the far distance; and near, many a castled crag and noble arch in proud decay. He may delight to saunter in the beautiful gardens of the Austrian nobility at Vienna-those of Schwarzenberg, Lichstenstein, or the Belvidere. Pleasant to him the ramble to Schoenbrun, with its maze and mysteries; among the slopes of the Leopoldeberg, or the rocks and forests of the Vale of Helen; the pleasure-palace and gardens of Laxenberg; or the delightful grounds of the old Archbishops of Saltsburg. Lingering on the shores of the Mediterranean, he may be tempted to cross the blue expanse, and seek other scenes-the breezy bay of Smyrna; the famous aqueducts over the Meles; and the country houses at Bournabat, with its pleasant woods and beautiful fountains; or the white palaces of Genoa, lighted up with sunbeams of rosy brightness. But more interesting still to visit the Crimea, where the Russian flag has been humbled and trailed in the dust, and that flood of barbarism, which threatened to overwhelm all Europe, has been rolled back on the merciless aggressors; to linger on the plains of Balaklava, the rugged slopes of Inkermann, and the declivities of the Tchernaya; to wander near Mackenzie Farm, the north forts, and on the coast stretching to Eupatoria and the Alma; the charming valleys and delicious shady ravines of Baidor, Varnutka, and Miskolwa; the trenches before the Malakoff and the Redan; to mark the yawning craters of the étonnoirs, and the wild chaos of rocks cast up by explosion after explosion, like the pits of a volcano, and the ruins of what was Sebastopol. And, after all,—not disregarding the grave-yards and cemeteries, where repose many a gallant hero-his thoughts will fly homewards, and his lips be ready to exclaim with Lady Mary, "except Wharncliffe," or some beautiful spot which had an equal hold on his own mind. So, MEREHOLME WOOD is the most delightful spot on the face of the whole earth. It contains, within its pleasant, almost sacred boundary, every feature of picturesque beauty. There is not a turn in each broad or narrow riding, not a change by slope or hollow, not a diversity of aspect by the light of a stray sunbeam, or the shadow of a passing cloud-not a ruffle by a breeze, shaping its merry course onward, and leaving behind, as it were, the footprints of its progress-but a fresh and gratifying picture is presented to the true lover of a sylvan realm. It contains more pictures than the portfolio of the most enthusiastic travelling artist. It abounds with more vignettes than the most elaborately illustrated book. It is a world within itself; and more than the world by which it is surrounded. On one hand we have the miniature mountains of Switzerland and Greece; and on the other the fertility of Siam and Malacca; with almost as much variation in the temperature of the deep hollows and bold eminences, as in Peru and Bolivia. Here is the fine scenery of Chili; and there are tiny pampas, like La Plata. Here are the impenetrable thickets of Brazil; and there the gentle, wellwooded hills of Paraguay. The stranger contemplates its unceasing variety of aspects with wonder almost with bewilderment. moment, he finds himself plunged in the obscure depths of sylvan gloom and darkness, where the owl first hoots, and the bat first takes wing. Instantly, he becomes fixed on the very margin of a frightful precipice, where, high over head, the hawk holds its eyrie, and the raven croaks disaster after disaster. Casting his eye below, from the giddy elevation, he beholds a mass of shattered crags, as though they had been purposely hurled together in a confused heap; where the wood-brook, hitherto stealing its silent course along, now tears itself through every opposing obstacle with a noisy turbulence; where, close at hand, the tall campanula rings its bells, and the golden-rod stands significant of the wood-ward's office. His attention, however, is soon attracted elsewhere. Amid the sea of foliage which undulates before him, the eye rests delighted upon the brilliant mirror of Fernmere-a lovely piece of water set in the hollow of as lovely a scene as ever claimed the trace of At one pencil, or charmed the lover of peace, snugness, and security, combined with picturesque beauty; while, in the far distance, stands prominently out against the face of the blue sky, perched at a considerable elevation, the tall spire of the neighbouring village church—an object which, if reliance may be placed upon the belief of the district, first attracts the eye of the mariner, far out at sea, on his homeward voyage to his long wished-for haven. Nor is a spot so delightful in all the harmonious combinations of attractive loveliness, divested of other charms beyond those of mere external beauty. Beyond the dense hollow on the left, so rugged, torn, and confused, as if it had once been the pathway of some overwhelming torrent, are the rocky fastnesses of the badger, overhung with gloomy yews and fringed with the neat's-tongue fern, which, with its intricate and difficult approaches, bid defiance to all means of unkennelling him; an animal, however, which, receiving no protection from man, is becoming scarcer and scarcer, year by year, and will soon be entirely exterminated, and only referred to as a matter of history. Within a bow-shot of this noted spot is the abode of other minions of the moon, which, though more cunning, probably less ferocious, certainly less affectionate to their young, than their neighbours, claim the especial notice and closer attention of the participators in the noblest of all field sports; a diversion, too, which, while it brings into exercise more courage and resolution, more perseverance and endurance, coupled with skill and judgment, than any other pursuit, will never lose its hold on the minds of Englishmen. It is questionable whether reynard, even in the most famous hunting countries, possesses a fairer or more secure home, or one from which he was ever driven by hound or horn, cheer, or halloo, with more reluctance, or to which, if he managed to escape from the vigilance of his pursuers, he returned with more delight, if not increased security. No trap of keeper, no gun with unerring aim, no wire, poison, or pitfall ever endangered his life; because the generous owner of the sylvan realm, consulting the wishes of his friends and neighbours, as well as animated by the generous impulse of his own heart, issued his mandate, long ago, that the first guardian of the preserves, who was, in any way, instrumental in the destruction of a fox, not only lost his master's confidence, but deprived himself of his own berth, as well as marred his own reputation, which, equally with others, is the immortal part of himself. It may be that the huntsman, in drawing this magnificent cover, may have to encounter more difficulties than present themselves in ordinary localities. But as experience and skill can, with perseverance, surmount every obstacle; so when, with his well-managed pack, he is enabled to unkennel his fox, and lay his hounds well on the scent, he not only wins the approbation of every participator in the truly noble sport, but is enabled to treat them to such a run as may well astonish the stranger, and further establish the reputation of the pack. But this magnificent wood, which combines within itself all that can charm the imagination and fancy in other respects, and can conjure up feel ings of unalloyed gratification and delight, is not confined to objects of the chase alone. On the lower portion, beyond the margin of Fernmere the cocks congregate and the snipes find a resting-place. Many a wildfowl stoops its wing, and shapes its course in that direction-ducks, teal widgeon, and many rarer visitants at the suitable season of the year, and afford the most pleasant diversion with dog and gun. Here, too, the welcome summer-strangers are attracted, and fix their summer-home. That part of the sylvan realm, in particular, where the ground is carpeted for many a rood with a magnificent bed of lilies of the valley, rings at night with the liquid notes of the nightingale, when all the rest of the feathered tribe, who join in the sylvan chorus by day, have sought the peaceful perch, and all else is still, as if holding breath to listen to the matchless melody. Nor is pheasant shooting less attractive. Yet, alas! so fair a scene, abounding with all that can charm and delight the attentive observer, is not free from the stain of a grevious deed, and the precise spot where it was perpetrated is still marked with many a painful remembrance. Here extends a long and beautifully green avenue, which bears the name of the Pheasant Riding. The sad disaster took place at day-break on a Sunday morning. This part of the wood, which had been carefully preserved, had, a short time previously, been visited by a desperate gang of poachers, who committed extensive destruction among the birds, killing all indiscriminately alike. This circumstance had increased the vigilance of the keeper, Smithson, who lived near the margin of the wood. At the time just mentioned he heard the report of a gun, and proceeded alone in the direction from whence the sound proceeded. He could see that two men were advancing up the riding in the direction where he stood. He stepped aside and concealed himself beneath the drooping branches of some tall larches, for the purpose of pouncing upon the intruders, as they came slowly along, carefully eyeing the preserve on each hand, to obtain another shot. The keeper waited until they had reached opposite the very spot where he was lying in ambush. He then rushed out upon one of the men, who had his gun on the cock, and was ready to fire. The poacher, either dreadfully alarmed, or stricken with fear, or to ward off a blow which might be aimed at his own head, suddenly raised up his gun, but not to his shoulder. Unfortunately, it went off; the shot struck poor Smithson on the breast; he fell down dead, and never spoke a word! The tale An alarm was spread throughout the neighbourhood. was conveyed to his home hard by. It was a sad sight to see him placed at full length on the table in his own cottage parlour, with his wife wringing her hands and could not be comforted. He was a remarkably fine, stout man, and universally esteemed. His countenance wore his usual placid look; and the spot where the gun-shot had entered his breast could be covered with the point of a finger. The coroner's inquisition resulted in a verdict of wilful murder against some person or persons unknown. The whole of the surrounding vicinity was astir. Information of the fatal event was communicated to the neighbouring market-town, and the police were set to work. Early in the morning of the fatal deed, a young man of the name of Rushton, a farm-servant to an occupier in the adjacent village, returned home, changed his clothes, and disappeared. Suspicion was awakened. His companion, a village wheelwright, named Loxby, was apprehended. Neither of them was known to be addicted to poaching, and both were deemed respectable men in their spheres of life. Every possible search was made for Rushton; but he could not be found. It was afterwards |