st encircling the cosy farm; while on the further side rose
abruptly from the water's edge high embankments studded thickly with oak,
ash, and an undergrowth of saplings of almost every variety. The old
house was spacious for the size of the farm, and consisted of a large
living-room, ceiled with massive oak beams and oak boards, which were
duly whitewashed, and looked as white as the sugar on a wedding cake.
The fireplace was a huge space with seats on either side cut in the wall;
while from one corner rose a rude ladder leading to a bacon loft.
Dog-irons of at least a century old graced the brick hearth, while the
chimney-back was adorned with a huge slab of iron wrought with divers
quaint designs, and supposed to have been in some way or other connected
with the Roman invasion, as it had been dug up somewhere in the
neighbourhood, by whom or when no one ever knew. There was an inner
chamber besides the one we are now in, which was used as a kitchen; while
on the opposite side was a little parlour with red-tiled floor and a
comparatively modern grate. This was the reception room, used chiefly
when any of the ladies from "t'Squoire's" did Mrs. Bumpkin the honour to
call and taste her tea-cakes or her gooseberry wine. The thatched roof
was gabled, and the four low-ceiled bedrooms had each of them a window in
a gable. The house stood in a well-stocked garden, beyond which was a
lovely green meadow sloping to the river side. In front was the little
farm-yard, with its double-bayed barn, its lean-to cow-houses, its
stables for five horses, and its cosy loft. Then there were the pigstyes
and the henhouses: all forming together a very convenient and compact
homestead. Adjoining the home meadow was a pretty orchard, full of
apple, pear, cherry and plum trees; and if any one could imagine that Mr.
and Mrs. Bumpkin had no eye or taste for the beautiful, I would have
advised that ill-conditioned person to visit those good people of a
Sunday morning after "brakfast" when the orchard was in full blossom.
This beautiful picture it was not only Mr. and Mrs. Bumpkin's special joy
to behold, but their great and proud delight to show; and if they had
painted the blossoms themselves they could not have felt more intense
enjoyment and satisfaction.

There was one other feature about the little farm which I must mention,
because it is one of the grandest and most beautiful things in nature,
and that is the magnificent "Old Oak" tha