is unstained by his blood. Ordered to descend from the deck of his floating prison into a shallow cock-boat-a mean executioner, accustomed to ply his dreadful trade amid common malefactors, in damp dungeons, and in filthy gaols, commanded the noble Suffolk to lay his head upon the side of the little vessel, and then struck it from his body at a single blow.

THE HALLS OF SUFFOLK.

"The stately homes of England,

How beautiful they stand,

Amid their tall ancestral trees

Through all the pleasant land."

HEMANS.

THE hand of improvement, which like the spectral "bunch of digits" in the fairy tale can never rest, is fast plucking up and removing from the face of Suffolk, two of its greatest attractions-OLD HOUSES AND OLD GARDENS. By old houses and old gardens, we do not mean rambling, heavy, domestic buildings, such as may yet be found in some of the bye places of the land, with a bit of smoky ground behind, out of compliment merely termed a garden, but those fine antique looking erections, adorned with peaked roofs, wreathed chimneys, bayed windows, and deep porches, known by the names of the Hall, or the Place, or the Grange, and surrounded with true pleasure grounds, shrubberies, and parterres, giving some real notion of what houses and what gardens actually are.

There stands the resuscitation of reality! See the full moat draws its deep lines round yonder bank, topped as it is with its walls of warm grey stone, and its green coping of crisp ivy. On the steep acclivity, blossoms the deadly night shade with its lovely flowers. In the shallows of the waters, spring up the blossom bearing flag and the yellow lily. Within the confines of that wall