daughter, with the energy of parental love, the other was tremulously extended towards the approaching figure of the bard.

Shakspeare on the stage, and, as far as his works had hitherto issued from the press, in the closet also, had long been an object of the warmest admiration to Eustace Montchensey, for such was the name of the individual who now lay stretched upon the bed of pain, and whose intention it had been, if the accident which we have recorded as occurring a few miles short of Stratford had not intervened, to have called upon the poet; for he was on his way from London to his seat in Derbyshire, and had lately learnt that our bard, having finally quitted the metropolis, had sought retirement in his native town.

There wanted but the opportunity of a personal interview with Shakspeare, to love the man as much as his works; for Nature had impressed upon his countenance not only what was great and intellectual, but what was in the highest degree lovely and engaging; and more especially on this occasion were his features and manner so entirely the index of his heart, that

as he drew near to take the hand of Montchensey, and before a word had escaped his lips, misery had lost half its load from the conscious presence of kindness and compassion.

"I am come, Sir," uttered the benevolent bard, in a tone tremulous through emotion, for the distress of the young and innocent Helen had awakened his most painful sympathy, "I am come to offer you the accommodation of my house; it is but a step hence; for though I entertain a high opinion of the care and attention of mine host here, yet a place like this is ill calculated for the quiet which your situation demands. My wife will assist this young lady in nursing you; we will have a physician immediately; indeed, I have sent for one already, and if he sees no objection, we will have you removed instantly."

All this was said with such unaffected tenderness, so evidently did it flow from the noblest simplicity, and benevolent greatness of character, that Helen Montchensey, unable to repress the mingled emotions of gratitude and admiration which were swelling at her bosom, almost

unconsciously threw herself at the feet of her visitor, and bathed them with her tears.

"My dear young lady," cried the astonished Shakspeare, "kneel not to me, I am doing but what the common offices of humanity require ; and happy, I do assure you, if I may, perchance, be instrumental towards the preservation of your father's life."

It was at this moment that the door opening, presented Dr. Hall to their view, a man of strong talent and much philanthropy; and who, from the scene thus unexpectedly brought before him, soon felt deeply interested in the welfare of Montchensey and his daughter. He had, fortunately, from the detail which Shaw had given him, taken care to come accompanied by a surgeon of the name of Court *, and whom he now directed to bleed his patient copiously, at the same time assuring the agitated and almost sinking Helen, that as far as he could at present judge, her father was likely to do well; adding, however, that rest and quietude were essential

A gentleman of this name was at that time practising as a surgeon at Stratford.

to his recovery. "It was on this very account Doctor," observed Shakspeare, "that I have been recommending my house to Mr. Montchensey, and I trust, that the injunction you have now given, will induce him to accept the offer."

"How can I sufficiently thank you, my noble friend," faintly articulated Montchensey, as the abstraction of blood was rapidly relieving his pain and difficulty of breathing, "how can I sufficiently thank you for this unlooked-for kindness!" Here, however, the tide of acknowledgment, which was about to flow with more energy than was consistent with the safety of his patient, was interrupted by Dr. Hall; when Helen, turning upon our gentle bard one of those ardent looks of gratitude and intense feeling, to which no language can do justice, tremulously, though somewhat rapturously, exclaimed, "Let me then supply the place of my dear father, Sir, and say, that to be thus indebted will, I am certain, prove the most heartsoothing recollection of our lives."

“You are a skilful flatterer, my lovely lady," returned the poet smiling, " and I almost begin

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to fear that, old as I am, I am incautiously placing myself within the reach of danger; but I am willing, nevertheless, to endure the hazard, and therefore hope that Dr. Hall will not object to the immediate removal of his patient."

"I must say," replied the Doctor, “that I think such a step would not be advisable tonight; but if Mr. Montchensey, from the operation he has now undergone, and from what I shall order for him, should prove, as I have little doubt will be the case, much better in the morning, I shall then, certainly, as the distance is so trifling, not venture to oppose your arrangement."

"Be it so," rejoined the bard "and now, my worthy friends," he added, "leaving you under the further direction of your kind physician, I heartily wish you a good night, trusting that nothing will occur to prevent your safe lodgment under my roof in the morning."

Mine host, and the old grey-headed groom, were at the foot of the stairs as Shakspeare descended from the chamber of Montchensey. "Here is Peter, Sir," cried Shaw, "so sorely distressed about his master and young mistress,