PYRETHRUM. 107 



But we tarry : — let us walk on, single-filed, led by the footpath 

 which runs along th uneven top of the bank, and protected by an 

 undipped and high hedge from the eastern breeze that begins to blow, 

 and has a chill in it even at this season of the year. We gain the 

 deep gully to the left, and, without descending, we turn up the ravine, 

 which is sylvan and would be fine where deans are few, but has no 

 peculiar attraction in our district. Planted on the further and least 

 declivous side, it is overgrown with whins, sloethorn, briers and roses, 

 broom, coarse grasses, thistles and ragworts, and all their concomitant 

 weeds and flowers on this side, while a little burn, with scarce audible 

 noise, runs lippering in the bottom . Amidst undefined rural sounds, 

 not sufficient to interrupt the talk of a friendly party, we stroll on- 

 wards leisurely ; and there is every indication in the lessening depth 

 of. the dean, and its greater width beneath, now almost a meadow, 

 that we shall soon emerge upon the level country. And now the stile 

 has been got over, not without some laughter-provoking awkwardness, 

 and we descend along a rough cart-road that, in a minute or two, 

 introduces us to the secluded beauty. It is really pretty and pictu- 

 resque, and though often seen, never seen without new pleasures, 

 for its aspect varies with the season, and with the day, and with the 

 hour. It is a spot — a mere vignette — which sketchers love to transfer 

 to their albums, and this is easier than to portray it in words. I 

 stand at the ruined huts with their walls and thatch dotted with moss, 

 groundsel and lichens grey, and shaded by three or four tall umbra- 

 geous elms rejoicing in the freedom of nature, while near them some 

 gooseberry and currant bushes struggle to prolong a sickly existence 

 within a slight remnant offence that once guarded the little garden. 

 On one side the high bank above is rough and rude, and rendered 

 effective by a perpendicular wall of naked sandstone rock left by the 

 workings of a deserted quarry ; — on the other side the bank is also 

 steep, but first green and grassy, fit for primroses and violets in spring, 

 while a little further on they are covered with sloe and brushwood 

 from which some planted trees rise up, and the underground is occu- 

 pied to choking with arching roses, honeysuckle, ivy, and a myriad 

 of flowers of every class and hue. And gradually, as in perspective, 

 do these contrasted banks draw to each other, and narrow a space, 

 partly occupied by an irregularly built mill in perfect keeping vrith 

 the site, and partly with a ledge of dark rook covered with dripping 

 feathery moss, — and this dyke and mill terminates the dean and closes 

 in the view. The cottages and their trees is one picture, — the mill 

 is another with its curious vane, its outside stair, its loop-holes and 

 half closed doors, its uneven roof and piebald roofing tufted with gay 

 weeds and mosses. And a little runlet sometimes tumbles over the 

 ledge in rivalry of a waterfall, but just now it trickles fast and showery 

 through the pendent moss into a shallow pool, whence it merrily trots 

 forward, now open to the thirsty sun, now peeping under the span of 

 a single-stoned bridge, now sheltered amidst tall grasses, eupatoria, 

 mints and other semi-aquatic plants, and now again enlivening the 

 green sward of the meadow on which a few cows are pasturing alone; 



