VERONICA. 153 



company ; the clerical suit of sober black mellowed aud relieved by 

 the freckled and chequered sporting jackets that suit so well this 

 holiday. The village is left; and the lane leads us by an abrupt 

 turn, down to the rat-rat-rattling mill, all grey and dusty, and quite 

 a picture, with the lusty miller leaning on the half-shut door, eyeing 

 us complacently, while the two cats that bask at his feet seem to be 

 half-alarmed at the novel route. How hurriedly the water runs from 

 beneath that heavy revolving wheel, as it were glad to have escaped 

 from thraldom and from under the wheel of torture * ; and the eye 

 seeks relief from the painful image in the caul beyond, over which 

 the river rolls itself, in a round and oily wave, into the linn beneath, 

 where, fretted by the fall, it ruffles itself into a white foam, and 

 murmurs, not loud and scarcely displeased, at the accident and delay ! 

 After a short whirling play, the water goes on in a smooth and placid 

 flow, that, after a space, quickens into a tumbling, brattling stream, 

 as if suddenly become conscious that it had dallied here too long, and 

 must make up the lost time. We take the hint, and we start to 

 follow the river, leading by a pathway, which the inscription, carved 

 on a rock in rustic fashion, informs us was made by my Lord Fre- 

 derick Fitzclarence, — not for our ease, who are all too regardless of a 

 trespass. So onwards we saunter, changing companions as whim 

 and chance dictate, now in front, — now lost in the rear, — now plucking 

 a new variety of flower, — and now entrapping the gorgeous insects 

 that flit about everywhere. The air is full of life, but 'twas unlucky to be 

 so engaged just at this particular moment, for I cannot participate in 

 that laugh which some story of Douglas' has provoked, and I lost the 

 fun too for the sake of a fly that I have not capturedf ! Onwards 

 again — and now the wood is passed, when we cross, with a quicker 

 pace, the open fields, and scarcely tarry at the queer little house and 

 mill which is sunk as it were in the bank, over which the road is 

 carried. But we greet the good woman who stands there, with her 

 infant in her arm, all a-wondering at the throng ; and our greeting is 

 returned with a cheerful smile that bespeaks the good woman to be 

 happy with her lot. And the opposite bank, covered with the bonnie 

 broom, is sunny, and alive too, with yur-yur-yurlings, and chirps, and 



* " It flows through Alder banks along 

 Beneath the copse that hides the hill ; 

 The gentle stream you cannot see. 



You only hear its melody. 

 The stream that turns the mill. 



Pass on a little way, pass on. 

 And you shall catch its gleam anon ; 

 And hark ! the loud and agonizing groan 



That makes its anguish known. 

 Where, tortured by the Tyrant Lord of Meal, 

 The Brook is broken on the Wheel." 



SouTHBY. Works, p. 126. 

 t " One should take care not to grow too wise for so great a pleasure of 

 life as laughter."— Addison. 



