proceed by the foot-paths, or take a boat. The scenery improves all the way to Windsor: hardly could more charming little passages of river scenery be desired. The stream winds in many a doubling turn, and every turn affords a new and pleasing prospect. The banks are generally well wooded, but of continuous variety. The river itself is diversified by the eyots that occur frequently along it, and almost always where they would add most to the beauty of the landscape. The first of these eyots is well known to those who frequent this part of the Thames. It bears the very pretty name of Monkey Island, from a "pavilion," or pleasure-house which the late Duke of Marlborough, then Marquis of Blandford, erected upon it. The dining-room is decorated with representations of monkeys in every variety of attitude and occupation which the human (monkey) tribe love to indulge in. It is said that the marquis expended near £10,000 upon this 'folly.' The island is now let to a fisherman who rents the water for fishing, and this and some of the neighbouring eyots for the purpose of growing osiers; and who lives with his family in a cottage on the island. The Monkey-House is almost a ruin-and is only preserved from becoming entirely ruinous by the tenant of the island, who adds to his gains by the visitors, for whom he supplies boiling water and the like. Soon after leaving Monkey Island, the " proud keep of Windsor" becomes an important feature in the prospect; and every turn of the river shows the majestic edifice under a new aspect. Down Place, which we notice on the right bank, near Queen's Island, was originally the residence of Jacob Tonson the bookseller-a name familiar to every reader of Pope and Johnson :-it is said that the meetings of the celebrated Kit-Cat Club were at first held here. The house has been much enlarged and altered since Tonson owned it. A little further, on the left, is the village of Dorney, with its little rural church half-buried among trees; and an old mansion which once belonged to Burnham Abbey, and yet retains some traces of its ecclesiastical character. Opposite, again, is Surly Hall, of which enough has already been said: and then somewhat lower is Clewer, where is a plain country Church, and a Roman Catholic chapel, the richly decorated interior of which attracts many a visitor from Windsor. At Clewer we have a remarkably good view of Eton, and the College chapel. (Cut. No. 8.) We must have a second day's stroll: yesterday Gray's was the shrine we sought; to-day it is Milton's we are to visit. Our hostel is at Eton, but this time we shall consider Datchet to be the starting-place. For the present the Windsor and Eton Railway does not proceed beyond Datchet; and it may not be amiss to point out one of the new and pleasant rambles which is opened to the Londoner who avails himself of this line for "a little fresh air," even if he does not approach either Eton or Windsor. Datchet itself has little to attract or repay curiosity. A quieter, or, in truth, a duller village it would not have been easy to meet with-at least before the railway was brought to it. Then indeed, on some of the few fine days of this past summer it was for a while full enough both of noise and bustle: but even then neither the bustle nor the noise lasted long. The train came in there was a great commotion among the 'busses' and the 'flys;' the crowd of pedestrians poured out of the station and marched towards the bridge; a few of the more curious paraded as far as the common, and, having "wondered there were no shops," turned back to seek after them; two or three straggled off to the lanes: occasionally one of an antiquarian turn insisted on his lady friend walking as far as the Church, in order that he might display his lore in discoursing on cusps and transoms, and stoups and piscinas, and his taste by railing at modern Vandalism: and then in ten minutes the village was as quiet as ever, and the last ancient dame had dismounted her spectacles and gone back from the street door to which the unwonted crowd had brought her, and the last rosy damsel had withdrawn from the window. And soon even this occasional bustle will be at an end. The railway will be extended to Windsor, and Datchet will be only disturbed by the shrill whistle of the locomotive flying through it. But if Datchet has but few sights, it has some associations. Ah! Falstaff and Datchet Mead. Not exactly. The "muddy ditch at Datchet Mead, close by the Thames side," into which the fat knight who has added so much to the world's stock of enjoyment was plunged "hissing hot," and having "a kind of alacrity in sinking, had been drowned but that the shore was shelvy and shallow"-that place was on the other side of the river, near the end of Datchet Lane. If the reader be a lover of the angle, he will not need to be told that its associations are for him. Within the whole extent of angling memory, or the reach of tradition, has the Thames about Datchet been the favourite haunt of Thames anglers. Honest Izaak himself was wont here to fish for "a little samlet or skegger trout, and catch twenty or forty of them at a standing :" and along with him used often to be seen his famous friend, "that undervaluer of money, the late provost of Eton College, Sir Henry Wotton . . . a most dear lover and frequent practiser of the art of angling." And here, on one of these occasions, did Sir Henry, "when he was beyond seventy years of age, make that description of a part of the present pleasure that possessed him, as he sat quietly in a summer's evening a fishing: "While stood his friend, with patient skill, "It is a description of the spring," says the inimitable old gossip, "which glided as softly and sweetly from his pen, as the river does at this time by which it was then made." The place where Walton and his friend used to fish was about a mile above Datchet. Wotton, who found, as Master Izaak tells, that "angling was, after tedious study, a cheerer of his spirits, a diverter of sadness, a calmer of unquiet thoughts, a moderater of passions, a procurer of contentedness; and that it begat habits of peace and patience in those that professed and practised it;" (Complete Angler,' c. i.)-built himself a fishing-box about midway between Eton and Datchet; and there it was that Walton annually spent some days with him in the fishing season. The site is still occupied by a fishing-house, though not of course the same as Wotton built. Black Pots and its owner are both well known to Thames anglers: its fame is no way dimmed in our day. Black Pots is situated by one of the pleasantest bends of the river; and from the grounds which are connected with the neighbouring eyot, we have a fine view of the College buildings. (Cut, No. 9.) But Datchet was the resort of a more important fisherman than either Walton or the Provost: the 'Merry Monarch' used sometimes to angle here, as is told in some rather bitter verses, which have been attributed, perhaps unduly, to the Earl of Rochester: "Methinks I see our mighty Monarch stand, house and a mansion, or the parsonage of some widespread glebe. We have only seen it as we now see it from the outside: we will borrow, therefore, the account which Mr. Jesse gives of it in his 'Favourite Haunts, and Rural Studies :' "On the right-hand side of the road in going from Datchet to Wraysbury, and about a mile from it, some high trees may be seen, across two fields, and a farmhouse near, or rather amongst, them. This is called King John's Hunting Lodge. The lands around the neighbourhood are rich and well cultivated, and the meadows smile with beautiful verdure; but in former times I cannot imagine a country better suited for the purposes of the chase. Here the hawk might be followed as it pursued the heron or bittern, when started from the reeds of the adjoining rivers. The hare might be followed by the fleet greyhounds, and the stag chased by the staunch sleuth-hound. On approaching the house it is impossible not to be struck with its very ancient appearance. There was the rude porch, the primitive windows, the curious gables, all betokening the architecture of bygone times. In the inside were the huge oaken timbers, the low roofs, and the grotesque carvings. Two of the windows of the bedrooms contained some stained glass of the arms of a king of England of an early period; but I was not sufficiently versed in heraldry to determine which of them. It is, however, evidently of great antiquity. But what struck me most were two enormous walnuttrees at the back of the house, measuring at three feet from the ground twenty-four feet in circumference, and still flourishing. If King John held a Parliament under the Tetsworth chesnut in Gloucestershire, he might well have done the same under the trees in question. They are, indeed, noble trees, and I believe the largest of the species in England. It is evident, from the old foundations and the appearance of the adjoining ground, that this was a very considerable place in former times. It is also curious that an underground passage has been traced for some distance from the house leading directly towards Windsor Castle. In this passage some very early specimens of English pottery have been found, and which are now in the possession of Mrs. Buckland, the tenant of the farm. Similar specimens were discovered in the foundation of the oldest house at Kingston-on-Thames, one of which I now have. With reference to the underground passage, I recollect the late Sir Jeffery Wyatville informing me that he had discovered, and traced for a short distance, an underground passage at the lower part of the round tower at Windsor Castle leading in the direction of the one already mentioned, and that there was an old tradition of such a is just the place to delight the angler who with the one existing. Should this ever prove to be the case, proper taste for his craft, cares less for the fish than the the projector of the celebrated Thames Tunnel cannot recreation, and enjoys far more than either the pleasant claim the merit of originality. I must not forget the scenery which the pursuit opens to him. At every huge oak-beams and rafters in the garrets of this house. curve in our river we see, on looking back the lofty Their size is quite enormous, and they appear perfectly keep of Windsor adding a finishing grace to the land- sound, although they must be of a very ancient date. scape. Following the path, we come to a very notice- Mrs. Buckland, who showed us everything, and enter. able house-something in character between a farm-tained us hospitably, informed me that her family had Here is matter for cogitation on the part of the contemplative angler, while trolling along the pleasant meadows between Datchet and Eton, or as his punt is being pushed along the willowy bank or while watching the trembling quill. Did Charles come to angle at Datchet with any such hope of " the world of blessings attending it," as Wotton expected and found? Charles, it will have been noticed, was a fly-fisher: he must not be classed with the honourable and patient fraternity of quill-bobbers. But to our ramble. We will continue eastward. We shall soon find a path that will carry us at no great distance from the river. It is a right pleasant one. After the first half-mile or so, we come upon delicious quiet closed-in bits of river scenery, that it is quite refreshing to linger by. The river, here, is neither grand nor strictly beautiful; but it has a tranquil, companionable loveliness that is no less agreeable. It resided on years." 8. ETON COLLEGE, FROM CLEWER. the farm some two or three hundred and that treaty was signed on this island as the attestation records from which circumstance, no doubt, arose the tradition that the Great Charter was there signed. A little further we come upon the secluded village of Wraysbury (or, as it used to be spelled, Wyrardisbury), where there is a church that is a very respectable sample of a small village church: it has lately been carefully repaired and restored. Wraysbury is opposite to Runnimede (described in our account of Windsor), and a footpath by the church leads down to the ferry by which Magna Charta Island, as it is called, is reached. This used to be always open to the visitor; but now, as a board informs you, "in consequence of the increasing annoyance experienced from visitors straying into the private walks, the island can only be visited twice a week." It is perhaps hardly worth going to at all. Magna Charta Island is said to have been fortified by the Barons; but the popular tradition makes the Charter to have been signed upon it, and it is in consequence much visited by the curious. The little stone building that peeps out from among the willows with which the island is covered, was erected about fourteen years ago by S. Harcourt, Esq., to whom the manor belongs. It is neatly fitted up, has windows of stained-glass with appropriate emblems, and contains a stone, upon which-as an inscription testifies-the Charter was there signed. Recent investigations have brought to light the treaty by which Louis of France agreed to evacuate the country with his foreign followers, after John had made peace with the Barons; Ankerwyke-house, the lion of Wraysbury, stands on the site of a príory for Benedictine nuns, founded by Sir Gilbert Montfichet, the owner of the manor in the reign of Henry II. Soon after the suppression of religious houses, a mansion was erected where the monastery stood; but with the exception of the hall which still remains, it has given place to a more modern structure. A yew-tree, of vast size and great fame, stands near the house. It stood there when the Barons met in the opposite mead, and it is still vigorous. At three feet from the ground the trunk is twenty-eight feet in girth, and the branches overshadow a circle of above two hundred feet in circumference. And now by cross-roads, and green lanes "Where blending elms dispense a checkered day," we journey towards Horton: a place dear to every "Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, Where the nibbling flocks do stray. |