The day arrived. A post-chaise stood in front of the old grey manor-house. I have it all before me. The pointed gables--the high-pitched, dark weather; stained roof--the numberless latticed windows--the moat, now dry, which had once served to keep out a body of Cromwell's horse--the tall elms, which had nestled many a generation of rooks--the clump of beech trees, and the venerable wide-spreading oak-- the broad gravelled court on one side, and the velvety lawn on the other, sloping away down to the fine, large, deep fish-pond, whose waters, on which I had obtained my first nautical experiences, as seen through the green foliage, were sparkling brighter than ever under the deep blue of the s…
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