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Williamite descent, messengers flying backward
and forward between the Hague and English
coast, trusting to a fishing vessel, a cock-boat,
to anything. Great associations, wonderful
memories, attached to that bright, shining,
little city, with its little royal atmosphere,
and ever-green woods. O place of sweet
waters! O perennial verdure, to be dreamt
of hereafter, when buffeting with the rough
discomfort and rude ways. Think, in cheerless
inns, think again and again of the place
of sweet waters, of the sparkling little hotel
Hotel de la Belle Vueplanted on the
edge of the sward, and of the holiday gallants
and gay dames, to be seen afar off from the
windows, threading their way in and out
among the trees! Sang a poet sweetly of
other green places:

"Ye have been fresh and green:
Ye have been filled with flowers;
And ye the walks have been
Where maids have spent their hours."

More pleasant hours, most grateful diversion!

See how one thing leads on to another;
and what a stomach for digression man hath!
It was first but a hasty conspectus, as it
were of the Dutch father o' family and his
ways, which led on to the heavy water-rate,
which again brought on the grand review, and
great Panjandoram, all round Chasse and his
memorial fount; which in its turn involved
that flight to La Haye, its green groves and
sweet waters; far away from all coarse
notions of heavy father o' families and huge
Butter-Colosses. To whom, however, we
must return anon: he having divers other
points about him, noteworthy in a certain
degree, and not to be passed over.

Still one word more concerning that
La Haye oasis. If, as Doctor Goldsmith
remarked, the Dutchman's house is to be
likened to a temple dedicated to an ox, so
may we liken this La Haye paradise, to fair
and flowery Gardens Zoological, wherein
abound bears and other rude animals. Saving
the bear's skin, which is here cropped
close, and made smooth and shining. The
La Haye Dutchman looks out at the world
through a Frenchman's mask.


I see the farm-house red and old,
Above the roof its maples sway;
The hills behind are bleak and cold,
The wind comes up and dies away.

I gaze into each empty room,
And as I gaze a gnawing pain
Is at my heart, at thought of those
Who ne'er will pass the doors again.

And, strolling down the orchard slope
(So wide a likeness grief will crave),
Each dead leaf seems a wither'd hope,
Each mossy hillock looks a grave.

They will not hear me, if I call;
They will not see these tears that start;
'Tis autumnautumn with it all
And worse than autumn in my heart.

O leaves, so dry, and dead, and sere!
I can recall some happier hours,
When summer's glory linger'd here,
And summer's beauty touch'd the flowers.

Adown the slope a slender shape
Danced lightly, with her flying curls,
And manhood's deeper tones were blent
With the gay laugh of happy girls.

O stolen meetings at the gate!
O lingerings in the open door!
O moonlight rambles long and late!
My heart can scarce believe them o'er.

And yet the silence strange and still,
The air of sadness and decay,
The moss that grows upon the sill,—
Yes, love and hope have gone away!

So like, so like a worn-out heart,
Which the last tenant finds too cold,
And leaves for evermore, as they
Have left this homestead, red and old.

Poor empty house! poor lonely heart!
'Twere well if bravely, side by side,
You waited, till the hand of Time
Each ruin's mossy wreath supplied.

I lean upon the gate, and sigh;
Some bitter tears will force their way,
And then I bid the place good-bye
For many a long and weary day.

I cross the little ice-bound brook
(In summer 'tis a noisy stream),
Turn round, to take a last fond look,
And all has faded like a dream!


ON New Year's Day, seventeen hundred
and eighty-five, Mr. J. Walter, of Printing-house
Square, Blackfriars, addressed the
public in the first number of a new morning
paper as follows:—

"TO THE PUBLIC,—To bring out a newspaper at
the present day, when so many others are already
established and confirmed in the public opinion, is
certainly an arduous undertaking; and no one can be
more fully aware of its difficulties than I am. I,
nevertheless, entertain very sanguine hopes, that the
nature of the plan on which this paper will be
conducted will ensure it a moderate share, at least, of
public favour; but my pretentions to encouragement,
however strong they may appear in my own eyes,
must be tried by a tribunal not liable to be blinded
by self-opinion. To that tribunal I shall now, as I
am bound to do, submit these pretentions with
deference, and the public shall judge whether they are
well or ill-founded."

Seventy-three years have passed since
these pretensions were so modestly put forth,
and on the New Year's Day of this present
eighteen hundred and fifty-eight, hundreds
of thousands of readers eagerly gave the