CASTLE HILL. 25 



men of the present clay tell us that the last thing in 

 the world to which we are justified in trusting, is the 

 evidence of our own senses. I give you this caution 

 and there J leave the matter. 



As we follow our proper path we may notice a 

 small pond on the left, which I mention here for the 

 sake of the beautiful sight it presents in May and 

 June. Its surface is then covered with the large 

 white blossoms of one of the Water Crowfoots 

 (Ranunculus aquatilis.) Once only have I seen a 

 similar sight that surpassed it ; it was in June, 1879 

 when I was walking along the canal side from Hythe 

 towards Lympne. For two miles without a break, 

 the water was one mass of blossoms. Once or twice 

 every year I come across the fields for the sake of 

 the view of snow white blossoms mantling this pond ; 

 on a small scale it is to me what the " host of golden 

 daffodils " was to Wordsworth, 



" And oft when on my couch I lie, 

 In vacant or in pensive mood, 

 They flash upon that inward eye 

 Which is the bliss of solitude." 



There are at least one or two moments in most men's 

 lives productive of pictures like these scenes from 

 the Distant or the Past which flash on the eye of the 

 mind and fill the heart with intense delight. One 

 or two for each of us. Mine are but such as may 

 fall to the lot of any ordinary person ; but one stands 

 out supreme the moment when I stood gazing on 

 those magnificent falls of Cora Linn and Bonnington 

 in that beautiful park near Lanark gazing in silent 

 worship, filled with awe, mingled with gratitude that 

 it should have been given to me to behold such 



