Ascending the hill on the other side, by a winding path which led up through a pretty garden, I stopped at the little residence of “Hutt’s gate,” formerly occupied by General Bertrand, with his family, previous to moving out to the building in the vicinity of Longwood. After resting here, I footed it a mile further, to the outer entrance to the grounds of Longwood. The prospect before me during this walk was of the dreariest and most desolate kind, presenting the most marked contrast to the verdure at the tomb. It was along this road that Napoleon walked to his favorite spring, and over which his Chinese coolies carried his water from it. After passing a dilapidated wall and gate, you enter upon a lawn of some hundred yards, on one side of which are straggling fir-trees, bent down in the same direction by the continual pressure of the southeast trade-winds, which are felt at this part of the island very strongly, and the other side was hedged by a long row of the stately aloe. In a few minutes you are in front of a dilapidated low building, with a small verandah in front of one of its wings, and partly enclosed in an old stone wall. This is Longwood as it now is. When I reached it, the place looked abandoned in the extreme, with the exception of the cows and a scrawny donkey that browsed around, or a solitary turkey who broke the silence with his gobble. There was the decayed and silent guard-house and signal-tower, its halyards rotted away and pole tottering, from which the restless bunting was for ever telling by day to the sedulous jailer at “Plantation House” how his great prisoner at Longwood, after the mental exhaustion of dictation, or the fatigues of a morning walk, now slept, or that, having slept, he was now feeding his pet fishes in the little pond in the rear of his cell abode. This quiet was soon broken; a dirty-faced, uncombed-haired English girl approached, and informed us that the fee for admission to the house was two shillings—Longwood, like the grounds around the tomb, being leased by the government to others, for the purpose of speculating on the interest of association connected with the great emperor. If we are the “dollar people,” can any man who has ever visited English domain say, that they are not entitled to the name of “shilling nation!” The first room you enter on going into the house, is the one in which, amid storm and rain, and when “Far along, From peak to peak, the rattling crags among, Leapt the live thunder,”