This little perfect figure may seem to be a trifling matter on which to found an essay; and yet we shall find it connected with history and poetry. It is, indeed, a small link, although it has bound together millions for better for worse, for richer for poorer, more securely than could the shackle wrought for a felon. An impression from it may have saved or lost a kingdom. It is made the symbol of power; and has been a mark of slavery. Love has placed it where a vein was supposed to vibrate in the heart. Affection and friendship have wrought it into a remembrance; and it has passed into the grave upon the finger of the beloved one. And, though the ring itself may be stranger to us, and might never have belonged to ancestor, friend or companion, yet there can be even a general interest about such a slight article. For instance, a few years ago a ring was found which had belonged to Shakspeare, and must have been a gift: for the true-lover’s knot is there. Who would not desire to possess, who would not like even to see the relic? There is reason to suppose that this ring was the gift of Anne Hathaway, she “who had as much virtue as could die.” And we must be allowed to indulge in the idea that it was pressing Shakspeare’s finger when those lines were inscribed “_To the idol of mine eyes and the delight of my heart, Anne Hathaway_:” “Talk not of gems, the orient list, The diamond, topaz, amethyst, The emerald mild, the ruby gay: Talk of my gem, Anne Hathaway! She _hath a way_, with her bright eye, Their various lustre to defy, The jewel she, and the foil they, So sweet to look Anne _hath a way_. She _hath a way_, Anne Hathaway, To shame bright gems Anne _hath a way_!”[1] We shall find many interesting stories connected with rings. By way of illustration, here is one: