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on his rugged head, his paw raised and tail curled, keeping silent watch and ward around, as he has done for centuries past. The gateway at once brought to mind one of the few descriptive lines in "Locksley Hall Sixty Years After"—

Here is Locksley Hall, my grandson, here the lion-guarded gate.

We had, fortunately, brought our copy of Tennyson with us into Lincolnshire, so that we were enabled to refer to it from time to time. Driving under the gateway, and along the smooth winding road across the park, we soon came in sight of the house, the greater part of which is unfortunately comparatively modern, and in the Tudor style, the old mansion having been burnt down in 1765, but happily the ancient moat still remains, and this with the time-toned outbuildings makes a pleasant enough picture. Driving under another arched gateway we entered the courtyard, with an old sun-dial in the centre; before us here we noted a charming little oriel window over the entrance porch. Again we were reminded of certain lines in the same poem that seemed to fit in perfectly with the scene:—

Here we met, our latest meeting—Amy—sixty years ago—

Just above the gateway tower.

and,

From that casement where the trailer mantles all the mouldering bricks—

While I shelter'd in this archway from a day of driving showers— Peept the winsome face of Edith.