something else than yews to look upon.

Truly, from thence the scene was wide and fair. I stood at that extremity of the pleasure-grounds most remote from the Hall, and with my back to it. Before me lay a solitary tract of wooded park, thickly interspersed with planted knolls and coppices. Immediately beneath me was the thicket called the Home Spinney, the favourite haunt of hare and pheasant, and the spot in all the Chase most cherished by Sir Massingberd. He would have resented a burglary, I do believe, with less of fury than any trespass upon that sacred ground. Beyond the Spinney, and standing by itself, far removed from any other tree, was the famous Wolsey Oak. Why called so, I have not the least idea, for it had the reputation of being a vast deal older than the days of the famous Cardinal. Many a summer had it seen—

 "When the monk was fat, And issuing shorn and sleek, Would twist his girdle tight, and pat The girls upon the cheek; Ere yet, in scorn of Peter's Pence, And numbered bead and shrift, Bluff Harry broke into the spence, And turned the cowls adrift." 

"When the monk was fat,

And issuing shorn and sleek,

Would twist his girdle tight, and pat

The girls upon the cheek;

Ere yet, in scorn of Peter's Pence,

And numbered bead and shrift,

Bluff Harry broke into the spence,

And turned the cowls adrift."

Yet still was it said to be as whole and sound as a bell. It was calculated to measure over fourteen yards in circumference, and that for many feet from its base; while its height, although it had lost some of its upper branches, still far exceeded that of any other of its compeers. Beyond this tree, but at another great interval, was the wood known as the Old Plantation, where Oliver Bradford had last seen his master alive. I was looking down, then, upon the very route which Sir Massingberd had been seen to commence, but which he had never ended. It was to the Home Spinney he had been apparently bound, when 

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