ifully situated as The Cleeve, or which had
about it so many of the attractions of age. The house itself had been
built at two periods,--a new set of rooms having been added to the
remains of the old Elizabethan structure in the time of Charles II.
It had not about it anything that was peculiarly grand or imposing,
nor were the rooms large or even commodious; but everything was old,
venerable, and picturesque. Both the dining-room and the library were
panelled with black wainscoating; and though the drawing-rooms were
papered, the tall, elaborately-worked wooden chimney-pieces still
stood in them, and a wooden band or belt round the rooms showed that
the panels were still there, although hidden by the modern paper.

But it was for the beauty and wildness of its grounds that The Cleeve
was remarkable. The land fell here and there into narrow, wild
ravines and woody crevices. The soil of the park was not rich, and
could give but little assistance to the chemists in supplying the
plentiful food expected by Mr. Mason for the coming multitudes of the
world; it produced in some parts heather instead of grass, and was
as wild and unprofitable as Cleeve Common, which stretched for miles
outside the park palings; but it seemed admirably adapted for deer
and for the maintenance of half-decayed venerable oaks. Young timber
also throve well about the place, and in this respect Sir Peregrine
was a careful landlord. There ran a river through the park,--the
River Cleeve, from which the place and parish are said to have
taken their names;--a river, or rather a stream, very narrow and
inconsiderable as to its volume of water, but which passed for some
two miles through so narrow a passage as to give to it the appearance
of a cleft or fissure in the rocks. The water tumbled over stones
through this entire course, making it seem to be fordable almost
everywhere without danger of wet feet; but in truth there was hardly
a spot at which it could be crossed without a bold leap from rock to
rock. Narrow as was the aperture through which the water had cut its
way, nevertheless a path had been contrived now on one side of the
stream and now on the other, crossing it here and there by slight
hanging wooden bridges. The air here was always damp with spray, and
the rocks on both sides were covered with long mosses, as were also
the overhanging boughs of the old trees. This place was the glory
of The Cleeve, and as far as picturesque beauty goes it