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117777

STRAND

MAGAZINY.

hands prepared a lotion for my poor maid’s cye. I nced scarcely tell you how much astonished Mrs. , the chemist’s wife, was upon learn- ing the name of her distinguished dispenser, and on our way back the whole village turned out to look at the dear man whose fame for good deeds, great and small, cannot be In- creased by any words which 1 could speak, or I would try to grow cloquent and perhaps be- come 1nspired by the noble theme.”

We had reach- ed the top of

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Frove a PPhoto. byl

A7 n JR s My i)

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A f’i}‘ ;

THIE HAMMOCKS UNDER THE APPLI-TRISIEES.

[Elliott & Fry.

the hill, drove beneath the old stonc gate, curi- ously enough known as the “Strand Gate,” a great pile of ragstone, with towers at each angle, and par- tially covered with 1vy, and stopped at the little white wic- ket gate. And, true enough, there was Prince, singing away with a heart as free as though he were in the open air mstead of in his cage by the win- dow—the same sweet tune. At sight of his mis- tress he hopped about in mad delight, stretched his little neck and lifted his