lear stream rippling at one side; at the other,
the massive granite rocks, rising to several hundred feet, frowned above
you; some gnarled oak or hardy ash, clung to the steep cliffs, and
hung their drooping leaves above your head. On the opposite bank of
the river, meadows of emerald green, intersected with ash rows and tall
poplars, stretched away to the background of dense forest that bounded
the view to the very horizon. Here and there a little farmhouse, framed
in wood and painted in many a gaudy colour, would peep from the little
inclosure of vines and plum-trees; more rarely still, the pointed roof
and turreted gable of a venerable chateau would rise above the trees.

How often did I stop to gaze on these quaint old edifices, with their
balustrades and terraces, on which a solitary peacock walked proudly to
and fro--the only sound that stirred being the hissing plash of the _jet
d' eau_, whose sparkling drops came pattering on the broad water-lilies.
And as I looked, I wondered within myself what kind of life they led
who dwelt there. The windows were open to the ground, bouquets of rich
flowers stood on the little tables. These were all signs of habitation,
yet no one moved about, no stir or bustle denoted that there were
dwellers within. How different from the country life of our great houses
in England, with trains of servants and equipages hurrying hither
and thither--all the wealth and magnificence of the great capital
transported to some far-off county, that ennui and fastidiousness,
fatigue, and lassitude, should lose none of their habitual aids! Well,
for _my_ part, the life among green trees and flowers, where the thrush
sings, and the bee goes humming by, can scarcely be too homely for _my_
taste. It is in the peaceful aspect of all Nature, the sense of calm
that breathes from every leafy grove and rippling stream, that I feel
the soothing influence of the country. I could sit beside the trickling
stream of water, clear but brown, that comes drop by drop from some
fissure in the rocky cliff and falls into the little well below, and
dream away for hours. These slight and simple sounds that break the
silence of the calm air are all fraught with pleasant thoughts; the
unbroken stillness of a prairie is the most awful thing in all Nature.

Unoppressed in heart, I took my way along the river's bank, my mind
revolving the quiet, pleasant thoughts that silence and lovely scenery
are so sure to suggest. Towards