SALMON LAKE. 185 



claimed ; " Here we are, my boy ; there's the crib 

 behind the little hill." 



As he said this, we turned the corner, crossed a 

 wooden bridge which spanned the ravine, and found 

 ourselves opposite a gate or barrier which separated 

 the road from a small plantation of choice trees and 

 shrubs. The barrier was open, for the master of 

 Woodcock House was expected, and we drove along 

 a well-kept carriage drive, bordered by a slope that 

 was literally covered with junipers, chestnuts, and 

 clumps of rhododendrons, kalraias, and azaleas, grow- 

 ing out of the fissures of the rocks in the most 

 luxuriant fashion. Presently we heard the sound of 

 a waterfall, and crossed another bridge made of the 

 rough trunks of trees thrown across a very clear 

 and rapid stream. On the other side of the stream 

 was a green meadow, at further end of which was 

 an elegant cottage, built of wood, with a slate roof. 

 The walls of this abode were clothed with creepers 

 of various kinds, lianas, ivy, clematis, cobeas, and 

 roses full of sweet- smelling bloom, covering all but 

 the windows. 



" "VYhat say you to this, my friend ? '' quoth 

 Mead. " This is my country box ; the only one I 

 have. Do you like it ? " 



" Impossible to do otherwise." 

 " That's well. Hallo, there ! Mary ! " 

 In answer to the summons a pleasant-looking old 

 woman appeared at the door of the cottage, followed 



