d to the geographical description of "Land
entirely surrounded by water," seeming, indeed, to stand solitary in the
river, with an air of infinite repose on its broad, sloping sides; green
and gold, so I remember it ever, with the sun setting over it in the
spring-time,--green and gold, in a crimson river!

It had an air of sublimity, too, looking over and beyond the cedars to
the bay, and down the length of the winding stream that fretted at its
feet or lapped them quietly.

There I planned to build a house, in some bright future day, that should
be in effective keeping with the natural grandeur of the place,--quaint,
lordly, substantial, with the appearance of having fallen somewhat into
disuse, ivy growing over the dark stone walls, and moss in the winding
drives, and carved lions at the gate.

The hill was a favorite resort of mine, and Rebecca had generally
accompanied me on my excursions thither.

Once she said--it was in the days when she had been happier--"I guess
_this_ place is just as God made it to begin with."

Rebecca had been struck with and had retained an idea which she had
probably heard promulgated sometime at the West Wallen Sunday-school,
that, at the time of man's spiritual fall, the earth also, with all
terrestrial things, had undergone a general mixing up. Her own idea in
regard to Eagle Hill she expressed very modestly, looking off with a
childish content and assurance in her eyes. And I was delighted with her.

"You are always thinking such things as that," I exclaimed,
enthusiastically. "I know you are!"

Rebecca blushed, smiling, and shook her head.

"I ain't often sure," she said.

I think I told her then that when I had my house on the hill, she should
be the housekeeper to guard my keys and conduct my affairs; "that is, my
dear, attend to all the little practical details connected with living,"
and Rebecca, to whom my castles on the Hill were never castles in the
air, but who believed most implicitly that I would, sooner or later,
perform all things that ever I dreamed of doing, accepted her prospective
matronship with a becoming sense of its advantage and dignity.

Eagle Hill was haunted by a horse, a pure white horse--not Lovell's--with
a flowing mane and tail, and a beautiful arched neck. His motions, the
Wallencampers said, were most fiery and graceful. Occasionally he paused
and fell back, quivering on his haunches, looked this way and that, and
then, with a wild plunge, sw