ILFRACOMBE LANES. 79 



least it so affected ns ; and this was surpassed a little 

 further on, when we came to a spot where a brook 

 runs brawling across the lane, and a wooden bridge 

 allows those to pass who prefer not wetting their feet. 

 A rough hurdle is fixed up where the brook gushes 

 from the field into the lane, over brown stones, which 

 it polishes into agate. Against the little bridge rises 

 a tree, and all round its roots by the brook-side are 

 varied tufts of fern, and gems of wild-flowers. How I 

 wished to be a painter that I might sketch such "bits" 

 as these, and not let enthusiasm evaporate in ohs ! 

 From this brook a step or two brought us to a shabby- 

 house, bearing the reputation of being haunted, its 

 broken windows rag-mended. I never saw the ghost ; 

 but I always saw a huge, divinely-awkward puppy, as 

 happy and affectionate as puppies usually are. I could 

 not get my companions to sympathise with me in my 

 love for puppies in general, or in my wish to encourage 

 the advances of this one in particular. De gustihus. 

 There are people who don't like poetry ; there are 

 others indiff'erent to puppies. After a valedictory 

 caress to this floppy acquaintance, we passed on into 

 the woods, and while seated under delicious " umbra- 

 geosity," I soothed myself with a Latakia cigar, and 

 contemplated a beautiful caterpillar spending its tran- 

 sitional life on a branch, happily knowing nothing of 

 transitions. Pleasant was the murmurous sound of 

 insects, pleasant the ripple of water, pleasant the glint- 

 ing sunlight, and the broad reposing shade, but plea- 

 sant above all was the charm of interchanging thoughts. 



