lurketh in the garden. And the name of the serpent is Satiety. He

maketh the heart to grow weary of what it once danced and leaped to
think upon, and the ear to wax dull to the melody of sounds that

once were sweet, and the eye blind to the beauty that once led
enchantment captive. And sometimes--we know not why, but we shall

know hereafter, for life is not completely happy since it is not
heaven, nor completely unhappy since it is the road thither--

sometimes the light of the sun is withdrawn for a moment, and that
which is fairest vanishes from the place that was enriched by its

presence. Yet the garden is never quite deserted. Modest flowers,
whose charms we had not noted when youth was bright and the world

seemed ours, now lift their heads in sheltered places and whisper
peace. The morning song of the birds is hushed, for the dawn breaks

less rosily in the eastern skies, but at twilight they still come
and nestle in the branches that were sunned in the smile of love and

watered with its happy tears. And over the grave of each buried
hope or joy stands an angel with strong comforting hands and patient

smile; and the name of the garden is Life, and the angel is Memory.'
Chapter XVI. The decay of Romance.

I have changed my Belvern, and there are so many others left to
choose from that I might live in a different Belvern each week.

North, South, East, and West Belvern, New Belvern, Old Belvern,
Great Belvern, Little Belvern, Belvern Link, Belvern Common, and

Belvern Wells. They are all nestled together in the velvet hollows
or on the wooded crowns of the matchless Belvern Hills, from which

they look down upon the fairest plains that ever blessed the eye.
One can see from their heights a score of market towns and villages,

three splendid cathedrals, each in a different county, the queenly
Severn winding like a silver thread among the trees, with soft-

flowing Avon and gentle Teme watering the verdant meadows through
which they pass. All these hills and dales were once the Royal

Forest, and afterwards the Royal Chase, of Belvern, covering nearly
seven thousand acres in three counties; and from the lonely height

of the Beacon no less than
'Twelve fair counties saw the blaze'

of signals, when the country was threatened by a Spanish invasion.
As for me, I mourn the decay of Romance with a great R; we have it

still among us, but we spell it with a smaller letter. It must be
so much more interesting to be threatened with an invasion,

especially a Spanish invasion, than with a strike, for instance.
The clashing of swords and the flashing of spears in the sunshine

are so much more dazzling and inspiring than a line of policemen
with clubs! Yes, I wish it were the age of chivalry again, and that

I were looking down from these hills into the Royal Chase. Of
course I know that there were wicked and selfish tyrants in those

days, before the free press, the jury system, and the folding-bed
had wrought their beneficent influences upon the common mind and

heart. Of course they would have sneered at Browning Societies and
improved tenements, and of course they did not care a penny whether

woman had the ballot or not, so long as man had the bottle; but I
would that the other moderns were enjoying the modern improvements,

and that I were gazing into the cool depths of those deep forests
where there were once good lairs for the wolf and wild boar. I

should like to hear the baying of the hounds and the mellow horns of
the huntsman. I should like to see the royal cavalcade emerging

from one of those wooded glades: monarch and baron bold, proud
prelate, abbot and prior, belted knight and ladye fair, sweeping in

gorgeous array under the arcades of the overshadowing trees, silver
spurs and jewelled trappings glittering in the sunlight, princely

forms bending low over the saddles of the court beauties. Why, oh
why, is it not possible to be picturesque and pious in the same

epoch? Why may not chivalry and charity go hand in hand? It amuses
me to imagine the amazement of the barons, bold and belted knights,

could they be resuscitated for a sufficient length of time to gaze
upon the hydropathic establishments which dot their ancient hunting-

grounds. It would have been very difficult to interest the age of
chivalry in hydropathy.

Such is the fascination of historic association that I am sure, if I
could drag my beloved but conscientious Salemina from some foreign

soup-kitchen which she is doubtless inspecting, I could make even
her mourn the vanished past with me this morning, on the Beacon's

towering head. For Salemina wearies of the age of charity
sometimes, as every one does who is trying to make it a beautiful

possibility.
Chapter XVII. Short stops and long bills.

The manner of my changing from West to North Belvern was this. When
I had been two days at Holly House, I reflected that my sitting-room

faced the wrong way for the view, and that my bedroom was dark and
not large enough to swing a cat in. Not that there was the remotest

necessity of my swinging cats in it, but the figure of speech is
always useful. Neither did I care to occupy myself with the

perennial inspection and purchase of raw edibles, when I wished to
live in an ideal world and paint a great picture. Mrs. Hobbs would

come to my bedside in the morning and ask me if I would like to buy
a fowl. When I looked upon the fowl, limp in death, with its

headless neck hanging dejectedly over the edge of the plate, its
giblets and kidneys lying in immodestconfusion on the outside of

itself, and its liver 'tucked under its wing, poor thing,' I never
wanted to buy it. But one morning, in taking my walk, I chanced

upon an idyllic spot: the front of the whitewashed cottage
embowered in flowers, bird-cages built into these bowers, a little

notice saying 'Canaries for Sale,' and an English rose of a baby
sitting in the path stringing hollyhock buds. There was no

apartment sign, but I walked in, ostensibly to buy some flowers. I
met Mrs. Bobby, loved her at first sight, the passion was

reciprocal, and I wheedled her into giving me her own sitting-room
and the bedroom above it. It only remained now for me to break my

projected change of residence to my present landlady, and this I
distinctly dreaded. Of course Mrs. Hobbs said, when I timidly

mentioned the subject, that she wished she had known I was leaving
an hour before, for she had just refused a lady and her husband,

most desirable persons, who looked as if they would be permanent.
Can it be that lodgers radiate the permanent or transitory quality,

quite unknown to themselves?
I was very much embarrassed, as she threatened to become tearful;

and as I was determined never to give up Mrs. Bobby, I said
desperately, "I must leave you, Mrs. Hobbs, I must indeed; but as

you seem to feel so badly about it, I'll go out and find you another
lodger in my place."

The fact is, I had seen, not long before, a lady going in and out of
houses, as I had done on the night of my arrival, and it occurred to

me that I might pursue her, and persuade her to take my place in
Holly House and buy the headless fowl. I walked for nearly an hour

before I was rewarded with a glimpse of my victim's grey dress
whisking round the corner of Pump Street. I approached, and, with a

smile that was intended to be a justification in itself, I explained
my somewhat unusualmission. She was rather unreceptive at first;

she thought evidently that I was to have a percentage on her, if I
succeeded in capturing her alive and delivering her to Mrs. Hobbs;

but she was very weary and discouraged, and finally fell in with my
plans. She accompanied me home, was introduced to Mrs. Hobbs, and

engaged my rooms from the following day. As she had a sister, she
promised to be a more lucrative incumbent than I; she enjoyed

ordering food in a raw state, did not care for views, and thought
purple clematis vines only a shelter for insects: so every one was

satisfied, and I most of all when I wrestled with Mrs. Hobb's
itemised bill for two nights and one day. Her weeklyaccount must

be rolled on a cylinder, I should think, like the list of Don Juan's
amours, for the bill of my brief residence beneath her roof was