In connection with Hyde Park and the Restoration, I may mention the following, copied from _The Times_, December 18, 1862. “A RELIC OF THE PAST IN HYDE PARK. Perhaps few of the many who visit this Park are aware that on the right hand side of the Carriage drive, between the Receiving house and the Bridge, there still remains an interesting relic of the Stuart period. It is a tree, one of two planted by Charles II. from acorns taken from the Boscobel Oak, in Somersetshire, in _which his father successfully sought refuge_, and were planted here to commemorate the event. They have both been dead some years, and one, much decayed, was removed in 1854; the other, beautifully clothed with ivy, which gives it the appearance of life, still remains. In common with all the other old trees in the Park, it is protected by a fence of iron hurdles; but, surely, a relic like this deserves a handsome and appropriate railing, with a descriptive brass plate affixed, to point out to strangers this historical antiquity, now known only to local historians.” If the traditional lore of the writer of the above is on a par with his historical knowledge (_vide italics_) this statement has not much value. Indeed, a correspondent in _Notes and Queries_ (3s. iii. 96), referring to this paragraph, and speaking of the trees, says “the tradition really and truly connected with them is the fatal duel fought by the fifth Lord Mohun and the Duke of Hamilton, in November, 1712.” Hyde Park seems to have been first opened to the public about 1637, for in the dedication of James Shirley’s play of _Hide Parke_ (published in that year) to the Right Hon. Henry, Earl of Holland, he says, “This Comedy in the title, is a part of your Lordship’s Command, which heretofore grac’d, and made happy by your smile, when it was presented, after a long silence, _upon first opening of the Parke_.” And it is from this contemporary play that we are able to learn somewhat of the Park itself. Nightingales and cuckoos abounded, and both are several times mentioned. MISTRESS CAROLL. Harke, Sir, the Nightingale, there’s better lucke Comming towards us. FAIRFIELD. When you are out breath You will give over, and for better lucke, I do beleeve the bird, for I can leave thee, And not be in love with my owne torment. M. CA. How, sir? FA. I ha said, stay you and practise with the bird, ’Twas Philomel they say; and thou wert one, I should new ravish thee. * * * * * MISTRESS BONAVENT. I heard it yesterday warble so prettily. LACY. They say ’tis luckie, when it is the first Bird that salutes our eare. BO. Doe you believe it? TRYER. I am of his minde, and love a happy Augury. LA. Observe the first note alwayes Cuckoo! Is this the Nightingale?