Why should we fear Youth's draught of joy, If pure, would sparkle less? Why should the cup the sooner cloy Which God Hath deign'd to bless? In a remote picturesque village, on the borders of one of the few remaining forests in England, was situated the home of Amy Herbert. It was a lovely cottage, with a thatched roof and latticed windows, covered with creepers and roses, and standing upon a smooth velvet lawn, which gently sloped to the edge of a clear stream, that flowed sparkling along at the bottom of the garden. A small but very beautiful pleasure-ground divided it from the forest, which stretched far away behind for many miles; whilst in the front it commanded a view over the village …
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