our
four-years-old Ted?

"My boy, my boy," cried his mother, laughing, for he did look
comical--the basket being really very nearly as big as himself and his
little face already quite red with the exertion, "you cannot possibly
take that basket. Why, _I_ could scarcely carry it."

"But boys is stronger than muzzers," said Ted gravely, and it was really
with difficulty that they could persuade him to give it up, and only
then by letting him carry another which _looked_ nearly as important but
was in reality much lighter, as it only held the tablecloth and the
teapot and teaspoons.

I have not told you about the gorge--not told you, I mean, how lovely
it was. Nor if I talked about it for hours could I half describe its
beauty. In spring time perhaps it was the prettiest of all, for then it
was rich in the early blossoms and flowers that are so quickly over, and
that seem to us doubly precious after the flower famine of the winter.
But not even in the early spring time, with all the beauty of primroses
and violets, could the gorge look lovelier than it did this summer
afternoon. For the ferns and bracken never seemed dusty and withered
in this favoured place--the grass and moss too, kept their freshness
through all the hot days as if tended by fairy fingers. It was thanks to
the river you see--the merry beautiful little river that came dancing
down the centre of this mountain-pass, at one part turning itself into a
waterfall, then, as if tired, for a little flowing along more quietly
through a short space of less precipitous road. But always beautiful,
always kindly and generous to the happy dwellers on its banks, keeping
them cool in the hottest days, tossing here and there its spray of
pearly drops as if in pretty fun.

On each side of the water ran a little footpath, and here and there
roughly-made rustic bridges across it tempted you to see if the other
side was as pretty as this, though when you had stood still to consider
about it you found it impossible to say! The paths were here and there
almost completely hidden, for they were so little trodden that the moss
had it all its own way with them, and sometimes too it took a scramble
and a climb to fight one's way through the tangled knots and fallen
fragments of rock which encumbered them. But now and then there came a
bit of level ground where the gorge widened slightly, and then the path
stopped for a while in a sort of glade from which again it emerged on
the