at the other, you feel as if you had made a
discovery,--the landscape being quite different on the two sides. The
cellar of the house which formerly crowned the hill, and used to be
named Browne's Folly, still remains, two grass-grown and shallow
hollows, on the highest part of the ridge. The house consisted of two
wings, each perhaps sixty feet in length, united by a middle part, in
which was the entrance-hall, and which looked lengthwise along the hill.
The foundation of a spacious porch may be traced on either side of the
central portion; some of the stones still remain; but even where they
are gone, the line of the porch is still traceable by the greener
verdure. In the cellar, or rather in the two cellars, grow one or two
barberry-bushes, with frost-bitten fruit; there is also yarrow with its
white flower, and yellow dandelions. The cellars are still deep enough
to shelter a person, all but his head at least, from the wind on the
summit of the hill; but they are all grass-grown. A line of trees seems
to have been planted along the ridge of the hill. The edifice must have
made quite a magnificent appearance.

Characteristics during the walk:--Apple-trees with only here and there
an apple on the boughs, among the thinned leaves, the relics of a
gathering. In others you observe a rustling, and see the boughs shaking
and hear the apples thumping down, without seeing the person who does
it. Apples scattered by the wayside, some with pieces bitten out, others
entire, which you pick up, and taste, and find them harsh, crabbed
cider-apples though they have a pretty, waxen appearance. In sunny spots
of woodland, boys in search or nuts, looking picturesque among the
scarlet and golden foliage. There is something in this sunny autumnal
atmosphere that gives a peculiar effect to laughter and joyous
voices,--it makes them infinitely more elastic and gladsome than at
other seasons. Heaps of dry leaves, tossed together by the wind, as if
for a couch and lounging-place for the weary traveller, while the sun is
warming it for him. Golden pumpkins and squashes, heaped in the angle of
a house, till they reach the lower windows. Ox-teams, laden with a
rustling load of Indian corn, in the stalk and ear. When an inlet of the
sea runs far up into the country, you stare to see a large schooner
appear amid the rural landscape; she is unloading a cargo of wood, moist
with rain or salt water that has dashed over it. Perhaps you hear the
soun