Cambridge Days. 91 



" ' Heard the sounds of Sydney's song, 

 Perchance of Surrey's reed,' 



was just visible in the drowsy distance. 

 Partridges were feeding on the lawn, and 

 scarcely caring to rise on the wing, or run 

 behind the purple beech at your approach ; 

 and the deep coo of the wood-pigeons as 

 they perched on the Scotch and silver firs, 

 which towered above the thickly interlaced 

 grove of holly and laburnum, vocal with its 

 songs of spring, was all in harmony with a 

 painter's home. 



"Jack, the thirty-seven inch pony, was free 

 to range where he liked, and he mounted the 

 steps of the front-door and walked gravely 

 into the room, in search of his gingerbread, 

 or to inquire if he was wanted for the basket 

 that day. Favourite as he is, I did not meet 

 with him on canvas, and in this respect he 

 differs widely from the white Arab Imaum, 

 of which the story goes that he has not been 

 seen to lie down for at least eight years. 

 He sleeps leaning against his stall, and like 

 the oldest Alderney, and the donkey which 

 runs unicorn in the bush-harrow and roller 

 team, and wins half the saddles in the 



