was doubtless one strong motive in the preference. Then The Black Country was not so black and noisy in his time as now. The valley of the Stour, lying between his mansion door and the grand old spire of the parish church, did not send up the thunder of such heavy hammers, nor such thick dun clouds of coal smoke. The industries of the district sounded more like the chirruping of crickets on cottage hearths behind the tall hedges of the scattered village. Then the great distinctive features of his scenery were the softly-rounded Clent Hills just at the right distance to get that veil of misty blue that painters love to imitate on canvas. And at the western foot of one of those hills lived Shenstone's intimate friend and patron, the distinguished Lord Lyttelton, who was then a kind of central celebrity in the literary world, attracting into his companionship and circle of influence men who were making their mark and reputation as writers, painters, sculptors, actors, or as any other members of the universal brotherhood of the arts and sciences. It was perhaps the making of Shenstone that he lived when and where he did. He was brought out under the most auspicious circumstances, and found powerful helpers in each of the departments in which he won his reputation. As a poet, living and writing at the present day, his thoughts would have burned dimly under the luminous shade of Tennyson,
