UPON A DAY 



The tent is pitched some ten feet above the river, just 

 in the point that is made by the meeting of the river 

 and the brook. The river here forms a horseshoe, 

 and from the tent door you have a clear view down (^) 



either curve. A lock connects the two heels of the 

 horseshoe, so there is no traffic past the tent. It is 

 impossible, indeed, to pass up this way into the river 

 above, because of a tumbling bay. 



Our little promontory is the extremest point of a 

 meadow that is quite remarkable in itself. It is full 

 of grand old trees ; sycamore, chestnut, oak, and lime 

 — none more noble than two mighty elms that rear 

 themselves up high into the sky, and widen out below 

 into a rugged platform, on which several persons may 

 sit. Further on are three magnificent cedars of 

 Lebanon, whose arms stretch right across the brook. 

 They belong not of right to an English scene. They 

 were planted long ago, perhaps to commemorate a 



o 



