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 summer sky.