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CHAP. IV. 



" Forget thee I if to dream by night and muse on thee by day, 

 If all the worship deep and wild a poet's heart can pay, 

 If prayers in absence breath'd for thee to Heav'n's protecting 



power, 

 If winged thoughts that flit to thee, a thousand in an hour, 

 If busy fancy blending thee with all my future lot, 

 If this thou call'st ' forgetting,' thou, indeed, shalt be forgot ! " 



Moultrie. 



It was late that morning when I opened my eyes, 

 and at first could not realise where I was ; but 

 after a rub or two at my forehead, consciousness 

 returned, and I felt myself at the chateau in the 

 French forests. With a swing I leapt from my bed, 

 and, entering the recess of the window caused by the 

 thickness of the walls, I threw the casement open, 

 and inhaled as sweet a sigh, from as sunny a morn, 

 as ever a sportsman revelled in. Beneath my window 

 was a terrace, whence arose to my delighted senses 

 the aroma of mignonette and other flowers, while 

 below its wall were splendid meadows, as green and 

 rich as those beneath the battlements of Berkeley 

 Castle, filled with white cattle. Beyond the meadows 

 the undulating ground arose in some arable land. 



