Hempstead, and wandered on, until the fiddle, and the hautboy,
and the shout, and the laugh, were swallowed up in the deep sound of
the big bass drum, and even that died away into a distant rumble. We
passed along the pleasant sequestered walk of Nightingale lane. For a
pair of lovers what scene could be more propitious?--But such a pair of
lovers! Not a nightingale sang to soothe us: the very gypsies who were
encamped there during the fair, made no offer to tell the fortunes of
such an ill-omened couple, whose fortunes, I suppose, they thought too
legibly written to need an interpreter; and the gypsey children crawled
into their cabins and peeped out fearfully at us as we went by. For a
moment I paused, and was almost tempted to turn gypsey, but the
poetical feeling for the present was fully satisfied, and I passed on.
Thus we travelled, and travelled, like a prince and princess in nursery
chronicle, until we had traversed a part of Hempstead Heath and arrived
in the vicinity of Jack Straw's castle.

Here, wearied and dispirited, we seated ourselves on the margin of the
hill, hard by the very mile-stone where Whittington of yore heard the
Bow bells ring out the presage of his future greatness. Alas! no bell
rung in invitation to us, as we looked disconsolately upon the distant
city. Old London seemed to wrap itself up unsociably in its mantle of
brown smoke, and to offer no encouragement to such a couple of
tatterdemalions.

For once, at least, the usual course of the pantomime was reversed.
Harlequin was jilted, and the lover had earned off Columbine in good
earnest. But what was I to do with her? I had never contemplated such a
dilemma; and I now felt that even a fortunate lover may be embarrassed
by his good fortune. I really knew not what was to become of me; for I
had still the boyish fear of returning home; standing in awe of the
stern temper of my father, and dreading the ready arm of the pedagogue.
And even if I were to venture home, what was I to do with Columbine? I
could not take her in my hand, and throw myself on my knees, and crave
his forgiveness and his blessing according to dramatic usage. The very
dogs would have chased such a draggle-tailed beauty from the grounds.

In the midst of my doleful dumps, some one tapped me on the shoulder,
and looking up I saw a couple of rough sturdy fellows standing behind
me. Not knowing what to expect I jumped on my legs, and was preparing
again to make battle; but