ocession
set forth early in the afternoon, towards the wildest and most dreary
piece of scenery that I have ever met with in this part of the country.

Wild and dreary of a truth was the Moss, and the stormy sky, the moaning
wind, and the occasional gushes of driving rain, suited well with the
dark and cheerless region into which we had entered by a road, if a rude
cart-track may be so called, such as shall seldom be encountered in this
land of Macadamisation. And yet, partly perhaps from their novelty, the
wild day and the wild scenery had for me a strange and thrilling charm.
The ground, covered with the sea-green moss, whence it derived its name,
mingled in the higher parts with brown patches of heather, and dark
bushes of stunted furze, was broken with deep hollows full of stagnant
water; some almost black, others covered with the rusty scum which
denoted the presence of the powerful mineral, upon whose agency we
relied for performing that strange piece of natural magic which may
almost be called the transmutation of flowers.

Towards the ruddiest of these pools, situated in a deep glen, our active
coadjutors, leaving phaeton, cart, and horses, on the brow of the hill,
began rolling and tossing the several tubs, buckets, watering-pots,
sacks, and spades, which were destined for the removal and conveyance
of the much coveted-bog; we followed, amused and pleased, as, in
certain moods, physical and mental, people are pleased and amused at
self-imposed difficulties, down the abrupt and broken descent; and for
some time the process of digging among the mould at the edge of the bank
went steadily on.

In a few minutes, however, Dick, whose quick and restless eye was never
long bent on any single object, most of all when that object presented
itself in the form of work, exclaimed to his comrade, "Look at those
children wandering about amongst the firs, like the babes in the wood in
the old ballad. What can they be about?" And looking in the direction
to which he pointed, we saw, amidst the gloomy fir plantations, which
formed a dark and massive border nearly round the Moss, our old friends
Harry and Bessy Leigh, collecting, as it seemed, the fir cones with
which the ground was strewed, and depositing them carefully in a large
basket.

A manful shout from my companion soon brought the children to
our side--good, busy, cheerful, and healthy-looking as ever, and
marvellously improved in the matter of equipment Harry had b