actor, and remembered all the gentle enthusiasm with which (1877) he spoke to me of the character of Jaques--which he loved--and how well he repeated the immortal lines upon the drama of human life. For him the "strange, eventful history" came early and suddenly to an end. Illustration: "The Castle Inn." In that ground, too, I saw the sculptured medallion of the well-beloved George Honey--"all his frolics o'er" and nothing left but this. Many a golden moment did we have, old friend, and by me thou art not forgotten! The lapse of a few years changes the whole face of life; but nothing can ever take from us our memories of the past. Here, around me, in the still watches of the night, are the faces that will never smile again, and the voices that will speak no more--Sothern, with his silver hair and bright and kindly smile, from the spacious cemetery of Southampton; and droll Harry Beckett and poor Adelaide Neilson from dismal Brompton. And if I look from yonder window I shall not see either the lions of Landseer or the homeless and vagrant wretches who sleep around them; but high in her silver chariot, surrounded with all the pomp and splendour that royal England knows, and marching to her coronation in Westminster Abbey, the beautiful figure of Anne Boleyn, with her dark eyes full of triumph and her torrent of golden hair flashing in the sun. On this spot is written the whole history of a mighty empire. Here are garnered up such loves and hopes, such memories and sorrows, as can never be spoken. Pass, ye shadows! Let the night wane and the morning break. THE END