climbing the side of a hill, it would suddenly display a wide view over the leafy ocean below, till the eye caught the towers and spires of distant cities breaking the far grey line of the horizon. Sometimes, descending into the depths of the forest, it would almost seem to lose itself amongst the wild groves and savannas, being itself the only trace of man's laborious hand amidst the wilderness around. In the heart of the wood, at that point where the two roads (which I have mentioned) divaricated from each other, stood the hut of a Woodman, and the _abreuvoir_ where many a gay lord of the Court would stop when his hunting was over, and give his horse time to drink. There, too, many a traveller would pause to ask his way through the forest; so that Philip, the woodman, and his young family, were known to almost all whom business or pleasure brought through the wood of Mantes; and although during the course of this true history, princes and heroes may become the subjects of discourse, it is with Philip that we must commence our tale. It was at that season of the year, when the first leaves of summer begin to leave the branches from which they sprang, like the bright and tender hopes of early years, that fade and fall before the autumn of life has fully commenced. The sun had abated but little of his force, and the days scarcely seemed to have contracted their span. The time of day, too, was like the period of the year, "falling gently into the sear," so that it was only a scarce perceptible shadow, stealing over the landscape, which told that the great power of light was quitting that quarter of the globe, to bestow the equal blessing of his smile on other nations and on distant climes. That shadow had been the signal for Philip the woodman to return towards his home, and he issued forth from one of the forest paths, near his dwelling, singing as he came the old hunting-song of _Le bon roi Dagobert_.[A] "King Dagobert in days of yore Put on his hose wrong side before. Says St. Eloi, the king's old squire, 'I would not offend, most gracious Sire, But may your slave be soundly switch'd, If your Majesty is not oddly breech'd,' For you've got the wrong side before.' Says the King, 'I do not care a groat; One's breeches are scarcely worth a thought; A beggar's a king when he's at his ease, So turn them about which way you please, And be quick, you s----" [A] This song of _Le bon roi Dagobert_ is in the original very long, and contains a great deal of witty ribaldry, unfit to be inserted here. The above is a somewhat free translation of the first verse, which stands thus in the French: "Le bon roy Dagobert Mettoit ses culottes à renvers. Le bon St. Eloi Lui dit, Oh mon Roy! Que votre Majesté Est bien mal culotté. Eh bien, dit ce bon Roy, Je consens qu'on les mête à l'endroit."