THIRD DAY. 93 



last refuge in the place of their birth and 

 childhood. Shakspere quitted the company 

 of all that were witty and learned, leaving 

 the dissolute companions of his earlier days 

 to strut and fret their hour, to die in his 

 native town ; and does he not picture to us 

 old debauched Sir John, in his last moments, 

 " babbling o' green fields ? " 



/. True, true: if you run on thus, I 

 shall forswear the town, and betake me 

 to a country life. 



S. Don't misunderstand me. I do not say 

 that London is without its attractions ; its 

 antiquity its noble river its localities, 

 consecrated by a thousand recollections and 

 associations, render it one of the most inte- 

 resting cities on earth. Its history is less 

 bloody than that of Paris and other cities 

 of the Continent ; and, although it has often 

 been the theatre of violence and cruelty, 

 it has not witnessed the scenes which have 

 rendered Venice for ever infamous ; but a 



