You'll not see many finer in Amherst. Would
you like to walk through it, sir? You're quite
welcome."

"Thank you. I should like to walk through
it. I have never been down this way before.
What is the name of the place, and to whom
does it belong?"

"It is called the Sycamores, sir, and it
belongs to Sir Thomas Boldero."

ANTONY PAYNE, CORNISH GIANT.

On the brow of a lofty hill, crested with stag-
horned trees, commanding a deep and woodland
gorge wherein "the Crooks of Combe" (the
curves of a winding river) urge onward to the
"Severn Sea," still survive the remains of
famous old Stowe; that historic abode of the
loyal and glorious Sir Beville, the Bayard
of old Cornwall, " sans peur et sans reproche,"
in the thrilling Stewart wars. No mansion on
the Tamar-side ever accumulated so rich and
varied a store of association and event. Thither
the sons of the Cornish gentry were accustomed
to resort, to be nurtured and brought up with
the children of Sir Beville Granville and Lady
Grace; for the noble knight was literally the
"glass wherein " the youth of those ancient times
"did dress themselves." There their graver
studies were relieved by manly pastime and
athletic exercise. Like the children of the
Persians, they were taught " to ride, to bend the
bow, and to speak the truth." At hearth and
hall every time-honoured usage and festive
celebration was carefully and reverently preserved.
Around the walls branched the massive antlers
of the red deer of the moors, the trophies of
many a bold achievement with horse and hound.
At the buttery-hatch hung a tankard, marked with
the guests' and the travellers' peg, and a manchet,
flanked with native cheese, stood ready on
a trencher for any sudden visitant who might
choose to lift the latch; for the Granville motto
was, " An open door and a greeting hand." A
troop of retainers, servants, grooms, and varlets
of the yard, stood each in his place, and under
orders to receive with a welcome the unknown
stranger, as well as their master's kinsman and
friend.

Among these, at the beginning of the seventeenth
century, appeared a remarkable personage.
He was the son of an old tenant on
the estate, who occupied the manor-house of
Stratton, a neighbouring town. His parents
were of the yeoman rank in life, and possessed
no singularity of personal aspect or frame,
although both were comely. But Antony, their
son, was from his earliest years a wonderful boy.
He shot up into preternatural stature and
strength. His proportions were so vast, that,
when he was a mere lad, his schoolmates
were accustomed "to borrow his back,"
and, for sport, to work out their geography
lessons or arithmetic on that broad disc in chalk;
so that, to his mother's amazement and dismay,
he more than once brought home, like Atlas,
the world on his shoulders, for her to rub out.
His strength and skill in every boyish game
were marvellous, and, unlike many other large
men, his mental and intellectual faculties
increased with his amazing growth.

It was Antony Payne's delight to select two of
his stoutest companions whom he termed " his
kittens," and, with one under each arm, to climb
some perilous crag or cliff in the neighbourhood
of the sea, " to show them the world," as he
said. He was called in the school "Uncle
Tony," for the Cornish to this day employ the
names " uncle and aunt " as titles of endearment
and respect. Another relic of his boyhood
is extant still; the country lads, when they
describe anything of excessive dimensions, call it,
"as long as Tony Payne's foot."

He grew on gradually, and in accurate proportion
of sinews and thews, until, at the age of
twenty-one, he was taken into the establishment
at Stowe. He then measured seven feet
two inches without his shoes, and he afterwards
added a couple of inches more to his stately
growth. Wide-chested, full armed, and pillared,
like a rock, on lower limbs of ample and exact
symmetry, he would have gladdened the critical
eyes of Queen Elizabeth, whose Tudor taste
led her to exult in "looking on a man." If
his lot had fallen in later days, he might have
been hired by some wonder-monger to
astonish the provincial mind, or the intellect
of cities, as the Cornish Chang. But in
good old honest simple-hearted England they
utilised their giants, and deemed that when a
cubit was added to the stature of a man, it was
for some wise, good end, and they looked upon
their loftier brother with added honour and
respect.

So for many years Payne continued to fulfil
his various duties as Sir Seville's chief
retainer at Stowe. He it was who was the leader
and the authority in every masculine sport. He
embowelled and flayed the hunted deer, and
carried the carcase on his own shoulders to the
hall, where he received as his guerdon the
horns and the hide. The antlers, cleansed and
polished, were hoisted as a trophy on the panelled
wall; and the skins, dressed and prepared, were
shaped into a jerkin for his goodly chest. It took
the spoils of three full-grown red deer to make
the garment complete. His master's sons
and their companions., the very pride of the
west, who housed and instructed at Stowe,
when released from their graver studies, were
under his especial charge. He taught them
to shoot, and fish, and to handle arms. Tilt-yard
and bowling-green, and the hurler's ground, can
still be identified at Stowe. In the latter, the
poising-place and the mark survive, and a rough
block of grauwacke is called to this day
"Payne's cast;" it lies full ten paces beyond
the reach whereat the ordinary players could
"put the stone."

It is said that one Christmas-eve the fire