nd so I will call him now.

"One spring day, when the streams were swollen, and the mountains were
all alive with waterfalls, birds, and flowers, the Wanderer set out on
an excursion that promised unusual attractions, attended by his little
favorite. He penetrated too far, or remained too long; night probably
overtook him, and he lost his way. He fell from a precipice, and was
dashed in pieces. For several months the little dog watched by the
remains of his beloved master, only leaving them, it is supposed, to
obtain necessary food. The remains of the Wanderer were found during
the following summer by a party of excursionists, and, when
discovered, the terrier was guarding them with pitying care.

"Sir Walter Scott, in company with Wordsworth, ascended Helvellyn
during the following autumn, and visited the spot where the Wanderer
died. The well-known ballad, one of the most pathetic of Scott's
poetical compositions, was the result of this excursion.

"'I climbed the dark brow of the mighty Helvellyn,
Lakes and mountains beneath me gleamed misty and wide,
All was still, save by fits, when the eagle was yelling,
And starting around me the echoes replied.
On the right Striden-edge round the Red-tarn was bending,
And Catchedicam its left verge was defending,
One huge, nameless rock in the front was ascending,
When I marked the sad spot where the Wanderer had died.'"

The Class stopped at Sheffield, and thence began their first
experience of English stage-coaching to the old town of Mansfield.
They entered the latter upon a market-day, and found the streets full
of empty carts, cattle, and rustic people, presenting a scene of truly
ancient simplicity. Mansfield is still a miller's town, and must
present nearly the same appearance as in the days of Henry II., who,
according to the old ballad, was lost in the forests near the place.
The forests, however, have changed: little remains of them but a
heath, traversed by wild and romantic roads. Here and there a great
tree, like a forest lord, may be seen, to remind one of the kingly
hunting days.

Leaving Mansfield for Sherwood Forest, strange houses by the wayside,
excavated in limestone and recalling the supposed age of the
cave-dwellers, as in an unexpected picture, much excited the boys'
curiosity.

Sherwood Forest, or as much of it as remains, is twenty-five miles
long and about eight broad. The new growth of trees is very fine;