THE VICARAGE. 291 



and on the arrival of the car at the door, she 

 busied herself in seeing that everything was pre- 

 pared for the drive, in case of a change in the 

 weather. The Vicar's wife declined being of the 

 party, but promised to have tea ready on their re- 

 turn, which would probably be at a late hour, in 

 consequence of the distance and the hilly roads. 

 The Vicar took his fly rod, and thus they set off, 

 full of anticipations of pleasure from the day's ex- 

 cursion. As they passed slowly along the deep 

 sandy lanes, Lucy would jump from the car to 

 gather a favourite flower, or walk gaily past it, 

 carolling one of the village songs of her native 

 county : or as they ascended a hill on the skirts of 

 a wild moor, she would constantly call the attention 

 of the party to some fine prospect or to some pretty 

 cottage peeping out of a wood, and forming one of 

 those sylvan attractions which harmonize so well 

 with what is beautiful in nature. 



Proceeding onwards, a splendid scene burst 

 upon their view. " Look, Mr. Davenport," ex- 

 claimed Lucy, " there's the dreadful bridge, over 

 the river, hanging as if it were in the air, while the 

 cascade bursts down from the hills, and dashes 

 in clouds of vapour into the tremendous pit 

 below." 



" It is indeed/' said the Vicar, " a scene of tur- 

 bulence and havoc under the bridge and amidst 

 the rocks, but see how the brook collects, after its 



