amounted to 51l. 28. 44d., a sum which would go as far in the necessaries of life in those days, and in those parts, as about 750l. would now with us. In those parts I especially say, for the difference in living in different parts of England was ludicrously dissimilar-even more so than it is at present, when, for example, a groom in some country parts of England is satisfied with 16s. aweek, but the same functionary would very easily command 258. in other parts. Abbess Margaret Gibson signed her name to a document acknowledging the King's supremacy some two years before the dissolution, and was rewarded with a pension of 15l. Burnham is especially known by its beech-trees, and Burnham beeches have for long been favourite subjects with artists at all academies in England. The engraving annexed almost suggests a banyan tree, from its intense foliage and shade. I borrow an excellent description of the Burnham beeches from a well-known writer, for it is less familiar than some of his published works. • Within five-and-twenty miles of St. Paul's, the Great Western Railway will place us in an hour (having an additional walk of two miles) in the heart of one of the most secluded districts in England. We know nothing of forest scenery equal to Burnham, which is approached from the station at Maidenhead. The beeches may be reached by several roads, each very beautiful in its seclusion. We ascend a hill, and find a common with a few scattered houses. Gradually the common begins to grow less open. We see large masses of wood in clumps, and now and then a gigantic tree by the road. The trunks of these scattered trees are of gigantic size. They are for the most part pollards; but, not having been lopped for many years, they have thrown out mighty arms, which give us a notion of some deformed son of Anak, noble as well as fearful in his grotesque proportions. As we advance the wood thickens, and as the road leads us into a deep well we are at length completely obscured in a leafy wilderness. This dell is a most romantic spot: it extends for some quarter of a mile between overhanging banks covered with the graceful forms of the ash and the birch, while the contorted beeches show their fantastic roots and unwieldy trunks upon the edge of the glen in singular contrast. If we walk up this valley, we may emerge into the plain of beeches, from which the place derives its name. It is not easy to make scenes such as these interesting by description; the great charm may be readily conceived when it is known that its characteristic is an entire absence of human care.'

If we traverse the banks of the Thames, in place of making an excursion to Burnham, we shall come across a mansion that has many quaint and interesting associations. Down Place has often