llow, and a
score or two of white cottages scattered themselves from this small
nucleus of civilisation over the opposite bank of this imaginary river,
which was now a lovely hill-side. Gorges, purple with shadow, yellow
corn-fields, and dark clumps of woodland dressed this broad hill-side
in many colours; its highest point, Nunnely Hill, forming the horizon
where last night I had seen the sun go down, and which now was tinted
with the tenderest western morning grey.

"Do you like this, Phineas? I do, very much. A dear, smiling, English
valley, holding many a little nest of an English home. Fancy being
patriarch over such a region, having the whole valley in one's hand, to
do good to, or ill. You can't think what primitive people they are
hereabouts--descendants from an old colony of Flemish cloth-weavers:
they keep to the trade. Down in the valley--if one could see through
the beech wood--is the grand support of the neighbourhood, a large
cloth mill!"

"That's quite in your line, John;" and I saw his face brighten up as it
had done when, as a boy, he had talked to me about his machinery. "What
has become of that wonderful little loom you made?"

"Oh! I have it still. But this is such a fine cloth-mill!--I have been
all over it. If the owner would put aside his old Flemish stolidity!
I do believe he and his ancestors have gone on in the same way, and
with almost the same machinery, ever since Queen Elizabeth's time.
Now, just one or two of our modern improvements, such as--but I forget,
you never could understand mechanics."

"You can, though. Explain clearly, and I'll try my best."

He did so, and so did I. I think he even managed to knock something of
the matter into my stupid head, where it remained--for ten minutes!
Much longer remained the impression of his energetic talk--his
clear-headed way of putting before another what he understood so well
himself. I marvelled how he had gained all his information.

"Oh! it's easy enough, when one has a natural propensity for catching
hold of facts; and then, you know, I always had a weakness for
machinery; I could stand for an hour watching a mill at work,
especially if it's worked by a great water-wheel."

"Would you like to be a mill-owner?"

"Shouldn't I!"--with a sunshiny flash, which soon clouded over.
"However, 'tis idle talking; one cannot choose one's calling--at least,
very few can. After all, it isn't the trade that signifies--it's the
man. I