Bailey has reacbed the laúd of his ancestors - the home of the Saxon and Druid, tfcc. Ho was violently sea-sick during tho passage over, Dut managed to retain a good deal of humor. His first visit to a ruin is described : Coming back f'roin the parks, I spied from the window that unmistakable indication of what my soul had panted tbr f'or years - what the soul of every student of the Old world pants for froin the eradle to its realization - thebroken walls of a ruin. There they lay before ine with the sunlight touchmg up their mosses, and bringiug into strong relief their broken edges. I bade the cabinan to stop and fastened my eyes on the sight. It was not a very large ruin, but it was a pretty gcod sized ruin for a Sunday. I pictured to inyself the day when it stood as a whole, with its long line of inasters alternating in the possession, and making the walls reverberate with the flow of mirth and bawqueting. How many a merry step had patsed along its corridors, and how many a sad face had peered from its lattices ! A ñood of strange, weird reveries eet in upon my soul, and carried me, by its power, away dowu the ages that are gone. I said to the cabman: 'How old a ruin is that?' pointing to the walls with a trembling finger. ' That 'i That's a new 'ouse going up for Peter Stevenson, the linen draper on George street.' It is a simple thing, but it has punched a very large hole in the cup of my expectations. How am I to know whether a building I back up agaiust to stir up my soul with is eight hundred years or eight hundred days old 'i How do 1 knów but that every builder is supplied with moss and ivy and verdigris by the barrel, and is bound by his contract to work them in ? ïhis is no way to fooi with a stranger.