The business affairs appear to be managed by a matron who, after taking our shillings, explains, systematically and hurriedly, the various objects of interest for about half an hour,--all the time she can afford, and as much perhaps as we should give if standing in her place. The house is a source of great revenue, for no pleasant day passes without visitors. In the reception-room we await the return of the maiden, who is just then guiding another party. They come into the room wearing an expression that says they _have seen_, if they have not conquered. They wend their way slowly out of the grounds, up the narrow lane, to their carriages, and then, though breathing freer, they continue so absorbed in admiration that they have no energy to expend in regrets over the shortness of their stay. The experience of one party is that of all who have brains to comprehend the facts. A visit to Abbotsford is like a flash of lightning, which, for the moment, lights up miles of landscape, and then leaves the beholder to mentally repicture what is still there, but veiled from his view. An experience like this was ours at Strasburg, where a momentary light from our high hotel window exhibited the cathedral, the lofty roofs of the houses, and the storks standing on one leg on the chimney-tops. Brief was our half-hour at Abbotsford, but it was enough to write the spot indelibly upon memory's tablets. But we now follow our guide, and are ushered first into the study. This is a room not far from twenty feet square and fifteen feet high. It is finished in oak, and has a heavy wrought ceiling of the same material. On one side is a coal grate, surrounded by a red marble mantel, with a lamp upon it, and a small marble obelisk monument. The grate, fire-screen, and poker remain as they were fifty-one years ago. At the centre of the room is the mahogany desk at which he sat,--plain and flat-topped. It has five drawers on each side, with an opening for the sitter's feet between the rows. The armchair is near it,--a good-sized comfortable chair, and covered with light-brown leather. The wall-spaces are filled with books, and a light cast-iron gallery extends partly around the room. Above this gallery are other reference books. On the side opposite the chimney, in front of a window, is a sort of casket, having a plate-glass top. It needs not that the maid should tell us that here are the last clothes worn by the poet. A well written paper so states, but the pictures of him have long before given the information. For their description we appeal to our note-books. At the left are the shoes,--large, thick, and made of coarse leather. They are moderately low-cut, much strained by his high instep, well blacked, and considerably worn. They have no binding or lining, and are tied with leather strings laced through four or five holes. In the centre is a well ironed and carefully folded pair of pants, once black and white,