Along that strand, and a very few paces from the waves of the Orwell, was seen the well-known figure of the venerable but active Edmund Daundy, a man whose name will long live in the town of Ipswich, as connected with its welfare, with the early education of the learned Wolsey, and with every charity in the town. He had an only son, who was then in Holland, perfecting the trade of the port of Ipswich, with the rich burghers of Amsterdam, and as he was amassing wealth in that country, and had formed a domestic connexion there, the father only held him to his promise, that he would not forget the place of his nativity, but would, in any case of dispute between the nations, return, and dwell at Ipswich. And he did so in after years; when the fine old man, now galloping his black horse along the strand, was gathered to his fathers. Galloping, or rather cantering with long strides, came the long maned charger, with the grey and shaggy wolf-dog keeping pace beside him. That was a dog but seldom seen in these days, except upon the heights of Snowden, or the wild districts of the Highlands of Scotland. The old Irish elk hound is the most like him, though this has become almost extinct. Power, activity, energy, and sagacity, were the characteristics of the old English wolf-dog. Even the mastiff and the blood-hound were no match for him. He was a picture of terrific ferocity, when once he stood erect, the color and mane of the hyena upon his back, with head and tail, uplift, like the lion. His bushy rudder, however, was more like that of the Newfoundland, his head was shaped like the grey-hound, and his limbs calculated for an enduring chase. Cæsar looked up at the comers, and for a moment paused, and stretched himself upon the sand, as the friends reined in their steeds for the cheerful greeting. Hands and hearts were united in welcome, and Ellen remarked, 'Even Cæsar looks complaisant.' 'He loves a run, my young friends, as well as you or I, the ride. Cæsar'--and at the sound of his master's voice Cæsar's shaggy feet were on his master's stirrup, and his long head beneath his glove--'Cæsar, these are my friends. Fall back! fall back!' and the faithful dog took his place at his master's heels, as with slow paces the party proceeded towards Freston Tower. 'I am coming to the castle to-day upon very particular business, in which I suspect that you, my young friends, are both concerned. I have completed the purchase of Brook Street House, and have forwarded the title deeds by my servant, with my baggage. I hope you will both live long and happily as my neighbours.' Let those who have ever been in similar situations, and have found a friend to take a lively interest in their happiness, suggest the reply. It would not be very studied; but rather the expressions of mutual gratitude, than which no man can hear anything more pleasant.