* Stanley's _Life_ vol. i. p. 37. One of Arnold's Laleham pupils, afterwards his colleague at Rugby, writes: "The most remarkable thing which struck me at once in joining the Laleham circle, was the wonderful healthiness of tone and feeling which prevailed in it. Everything about me I immediately felt to be most real; it was a place where a new-comer at once felt that a great and earnest work was going forward. Dr. Arnold's great power as a private tutor resided in this, that he gave such an intense earnestness to life. Every pupil was made to feel that there was a work for him to do--that his happiness as well as his duty lay in doing that work well. Hence, an indescribable zest was communicated to a young man's feeling about life; a strange joy came over him on discovering that he had the means of being useful, and thus of being happy; and a deep respect and ardent attachment sprang up towards him who had taught him thus to value life and his own self, and his work and mission in this world." September 23, 1872. [Illustration: 0038] "Who calls the council, states the certain day. Who forms the phalanx, and who points the way."--_Pope_ [Illustration: 0039] Two or three miles farther, and just past Hampton village, on the left bank, the traveller will notice a little rotunda with a Grecian portico with a mansion of some pretensions in the wooded back-ground. The house was Garrick's residence, and in the rotunda there originally stood Roubiliac's famous statue of Shakspere, now in the British Museum. Bushey Park and Hampton Court next tempt us to the shore. Great names of history again rise to memory--Wolsey, Cromwell, Williams. But the charm of Hampton Court is, that its palace and gardens are free of access to the people; a privilege which, all the summer through, is appreciated by eager, happy throngs. But let us cross the river to the comparative solitude of the two Dittons--"Thames," and "Long." An _impromptu_ of poor Theodore Hook, lively and graceful, according to his wont, has led many a tourist in search of a holiday to this pretty neighbourhood, and the poet's memory is reverenced in the village accordingly. Here are the first and last verses: "When sultry suns and dusty streets proclaim town's 'winter season,' And rural scenes and cool retreats sound something like high treason-- I steal away to shades serene which yet no bard has hit on, And change the bustling, heartless scene for quietude and Ditlon. Here, in a placid waking dream, I'm free from worldly troubles, Calm as the rippling silver stream that in the sunshine bubbles; And when sweet Eden's blissful bowers, some abler bard has writ on. Despairing to transcend his powers, I'll-ditto-say for Ditton."