ways
making great plans about his garden; and the first step towards his
improvements is always to clear out all the old things, and make what he
calls 'a clean sweep of the rubbish.'"

By the time that the "twelve o'clock bell" rang from the church-tower
below, the heat was so great that we gathered up our tools and went
home.

In the afternoon Eleanor said, "Were you ever on the moors? Did you ever
wade? Do you care about water-weeds? Did you ever eat bilberries, or
carberries?--but they're not ripe yet. Shall we go and get some
Batrachosperma, and paddle a bit, and give the dear boys a bathe?"

"Delightful!" said I; "but do you go out alone?"

"What should we take anybody with us for?" said Eleanor, opening her
eyes.

I could not say. But as we dressed I said, "I'm so glad you don't wear
veils. Matilda and I used to have to wear veils to take care of our
complexion."

Eschewing veils and every unnecessary encumbrance, we set forth,
followed by the dogs. I had taken off my crinoline, because Eleanor said
we might have to climb some walls, and I had borrowed a pair of her
boots, because my own were so uncomfortable from being high-heeled and
narrow-soled. They were too thin for stony roads also, and, though they
were prettily ornamented, they pinched my feet.

We went upwards from the Vicarage along hot roads bordered by stone
walls. At last we turned and began to go downwards, and as we stood on
the top of the steep hill we were about to descend, Eleanor, with some
pride in her tone, asked me what I thought of the view.

It was very beautiful. The slopes of the purple hills were grand. I saw
"moors" now.

"The best part of it is the air, though," she said.

The air was, in fact, wind; but of a dry, soft, exhilarating kind. It
seemed to get into our heads, and we joined hands and ran wildly down
the steep hill together.

"What fun!" Eleanor cried, as we paused to gain breath at the bottom.
"Now you've come there'll be four of us to run downhill. We shall nearly
stretch across the road."

At last we came to a stone bridge which spanned the river. It was not a
very wide stream, and it was so broken with grey boulders, and clumps of
rushes and overhanging ferns, that one only caught sight of the water
here and there, in tiny torrents and lakes among the weeds.

My delight was boundless. I can neither forget nor describe those first
experiences of real country life, when Eleanor and I rambled about
togeth