same road, and soon found himself on Paddington-Green.  A row of magnificent, and even then venerable, elms threw their broad arms over this pleasant spot.  From a man, who was standing beneath the shade of one these noble trees, information was obtained that the horsemen had ridden along the Harrow Road.  With a faint view of overtaking them the pursuer urged his steed to a quicker pace.  Arrived at Westbourne-Green—­then nothing more than a common covered with gorse and furzebushes, and boasting only a couple of cottages and an alehouse—­he perceived through the hedges the objects of his search slowly ascending the gentle hill that rises from Kensall-Green.

By the time he had reached the summit of this hill, he had lost all trace of them; and the ardour of the chase having in some measure subsided, he began to reproach himself for his folly, in having wandered—­as he conceived—­so far out of his course.  Before retracing his steps, however, he allowed his gaze to range over the vast and beautiful prospect spread out beneath him, which is now hidden, from the traveller’s view by the high walls of the General Cemetery, and can, consequently, only be commanded from the interior of that attractive place of burial,—­and which, before it was intersected by canals and railroads, and portioned out into hippodromes, was exquisite indeed.  After feasting his eye upon this superb panorama, he was about to return, when he ascertained from a farmer that his nearest road to Willesden would be down a lane a little further on, to the right.  Following this direction, he opened a gate, and struck into one of the most beautiful green lanes imaginable; which, after various windings, conducted him into a more frequented road, and eventually brought him to the place he sought.  Glancing at the finger-post over the cage, which has been described as situated at the outskirts of the village, and seeing no directions to Dollis Hill, he made fresh inquiries as to where it lay, from an elderly man, who was standing with another countryman near the little prison.

“Whose house do you want, master?” said the man, touching his hat.

“Mr. Wood’s,” was the reply.

“There is Dollis Hill,” said the man, pointing to a well-wooded eminence about a mile distant, “and there,” he added, indicating the roof of a house just visible above a grove of trees “is Mr. Wood’s.  If you ride past the church, and mount the hill, you’ll come to Neasdon and then you’ll not have above half a mile to go.”

The young man thanked his informant, and was about to follow his instructions, when the other called after him——­

“I say, master, did you ever hear tell of Mr. Wood’s famous ’prentice?”

“What apprentice?” asked the stranger, in surprise.