the herons are building in the wood by Carnton Fell,
and I have found the remains of another stone circle on the moors, so we
shall have plenty of objects for our walks."

To revisit all our old haunts was an immense delight. The rose-tree
which I had planted by Edward's arbour had grown into quite a large
bush, the tempestuous poodle puppies had settled down into sober,
steady-going, well-conducted dogs, which regarded with much disfavour
the harum-scarum ways of a youthful Skye terrier, which was the latest
favourite. Cathy had a fresh pony, a beautiful little chestnut called
Selim, which ran with Lady in the new phaeton, and the rock garden which
we had made at the end of the shrubbery was flourishing in the most
satisfactory manner.

I found the boys much changed. Edward was very tall, and had begun to
speak meditatively of Oxford. He still drawled a little, and fussed
over his clothes, but he had taken keenly to politics, and aired
socialistic theories which he argued hotly with the squire. Dick had
grown quite polite, comparatively speaking, and offered to teach me
golf, but we had so many other occupations on hand that I never found
time to learn. George had got over the stage of keeping white mice in
his pockets, and talked mostly about cricket; he was still at his
preparatory school, but he was to leave soon for a training-college for
the Navy. They were all as full of fun and chaff as ever, and laughed
yet over the remembrance of our joke with the burglar.

Marshlands looked beautiful in the spring-time. The cherry orchards were
in full blossom, the woods were tinged with the faintest of tender
greens, and we found violets in every hedgerow. It was early April, and
the distant fells were capped with snow, while the air had enough of a
northern chill in it to make quick walking a pleasure. We were close to
the lake country, on the borders of that mountain district where crag
and moorland, pine-wood and tarn combine to make some of the most
glorious scenery in the British Isles. I have always had an extreme
love for the hills, whether they were the rocky sierras of my childhood,
or the rugged peaks of Cumberland. Once up on the slopes, with the fresh
wind blowing on your cheek, and the valley spread out like a map below,
you feel as if you had left the cares of the world behind, and were in a
different moral as well as physical atmosphere. If it is true that our
surroundings really have an effect upon our char