What a wild place it is!"

"But how beautiful!" I cried, as we sat down on some rough blocks of
stone, with the pure thyme-scented air blowing on our cheeks, larks
singing above our heads, and all around the hum of insects or bees
hurrying from blossom to blossom; while we saw the grasshoppers slowly
climbing up to the top of some strand of grass, take a look round, and
then set their spring legs in motion and take a good leap.

"What a difference in the hills!" said Uncle Jack, looking thoughtfully
from some that were smooth of outline to others that were all rugged and
looked as if great jagged masses of stone had been piled upon their
tops.

"Yes," said Uncle Dick. "Two formations. Mountain limestone yonder;
this we are on, with all these rough pieces on the surface and sticking
out everywhere, is millstone-grit."

"Which is millstone-grit?" I cried.

"This," he said, taking out a little hammer and chipping one of the
stones by us to show me that it was a sandstone full of hard fragments
of silica. "You might open a quarry anywhere here and cut millstones,
but of course some of the stone is better for the purpose than others."

"Yes," said Uncle Jack thoughtfully. "Arrowfield is famously situated
for its purpose--plenty of coal for forging, plenty of water to work
mills, plenty of quarries to get millstones for grinding."

"Come along," cried Uncle Bob, starting up; and before we had gone far
the grouse flew, skimming away before us, and soon after we came to a
lovely mountain stream that sparkled and danced as it dashed down in
hundreds of little cataracts and falls.

Leaving this, though the sight of the little trout darting about was
temptation enough to make me stay, we tramped on over the rugged ground,
in and out among stones or piled-up rocks, now skirting or leaping boggy
places dotted with cotton-rush, where the bog-roots were here green and
soft, there of a delicate pinky white, where the water had been dried
away.

To a London boy, accustomed to country runs among inclosed fields and
hedges, or at times into a park or upon a common, this vast stretch of
hilly, wild uncultivated land was glorious, and I was ready to see any
wonder without surprise.

It seemed to me, as we tramped on examining the bits of stone, the herbs
and flowers, that at any moment we might come upon the lair of some wild
beast; and so we did over and over again, but it was not the den of wolf
or bear, but of a rabbi