Those evening bells! Those evening bells! How many a tale their music tells Of youth and home, and that sweet time When last I heard their soothing chime! Those joyous hours are passed away, And many a heart that then was gay Within the tomb now darkly dwells, And hears no more those evening bells. And so ’twill be when I am gone; That tuneful peal will still ring on; While other bards shall walk these dells, And sing your praise, sweet evening bells. [Illustration: THE MANCHESTER MAILS PASSING ONE ANOTHER NEAR ASHBOURNE. [_After J. Pollard._ ] At Mayfield Cottage, in midst of typical English scenery, and with the meadows and the cows coming up to his very door, he wrote that work of supercharged Orientalism, _Lalla Rookh_; and here he first tasted the delights of literary success. Byron had set the fashion in literature and made Eastern subjects pay, and Moore accordingly proposed to take advantage of the prevailing taste and write a poem of giaours, houris, peris, and bul-buls. He knew nothing of Oriental subjects, but that mattered little. Purchasing every available book on the East, he retired to this spot, and, after three years’ studying the library thus acquired, produced that highly successful work. There were great men in those days, but perhaps Longmans were the greatest among them. They agreed to give Moore £3,000 for _Lalla Rookh_ before ever a line of it was written. O! my Anointed Aunt, three thousand of the best, three thousand golden minted quid for so problematical a result. [Illustration: SWINSCOE.] [Sidenote: _THE HAMPS AND THE MANIFOLD_]