BRAMiPTON-AMONG-THE-ROSES. Some men with swords may reap the field, And plant fresh laurels where they kill; But their strong nerves at last must yield, They tame but one another still. Early or late They stoop to fate. Only the actions of the just Smell sweet-and blossom in the dust." But the old Manor House garden was above all things the delight of Christabel. And now I must tell you how it was that she found so much pleasure in it, though I think the memory of the past influenced her mind and taste. I had no difficulty in tracing what still retains the name of My Lady's Walk, which ran the whole length of the ground formerly cultivated as a garden; it must have been about twelve feet wide and perfectly straight, and bordered on each side by roses, which have for full two hundred years retained possession of the ground in one form or another, and still shoot up as saplings from long-since buried old roots, and falling rose-heps, and such mysterious ways as Nature sends out of her mysterious laboratory from the decay which time has made. For in the great vegetable world a new life is constantly breathing from out of the remains of death, so that the slow process of decay is but the necessary renewal before a new form of life is visible to the naked eye, even as we in our faith be. lieve that from the earthly body will arise one spiritual, as the grain of wheat rots and sends out the stalk which supports the new ear of corn, which, responsive to our prayer, gives us our daily bread." That the long borders on each side of My Lady's Walk were but a renewal of the old roses, which were shaken from their stems by the reverberation of Cromwell's cannon when