82 WITH THE WOODLANDERS. 



An' do you hear they owls a-mewing there, like so 

 many young kittens ? The first young uns o' this 

 year they are. Just bide still a moment, an' ye'll 

 hear one o' the old uns bark. Now ain't that like a 

 tarrier yappin' ? " 



Once more we dived down into a wooded hollow, 

 and we were in front of the old place we had come 

 to see. 



" Will that do fur a pictur to paint ? " asks the 

 young giant, as he leaves me to look round whilst 

 he goes in search of his friend, to whom he will 

 presently introduce me as " the one who made the 

 Owlet " of great fame. It was one of the most 

 beautiful subjects for the pencil that I had ever 

 seen. There was a great pool of water fringed with 

 reeds, and shut in by the woods, a calm pool, with 

 great masses of weeds floating on its surface, the 

 only clear space being towards the centre. This 

 was caused by the rush of a trout-stream that we 

 could see shooting into it. 



The afterglow of evening was on the pond, the 

 trees, and the mill buildings, now falling to decay. 

 The sluice was there, and through the broken sluice- 

 boards the water rushed under the old mill into the 



