iver side, all the way
to Rockville woods, and when it reached them, it divided like a fork, and
one pony or foot-path led straight up a magnificent grove of a mile long,
ending close to the hall; and another ran all along the river side, under
the hills and branches of the wood.

Oh, delicious were these woods! In the river there were islands, which
were covered in summer with the greenest grass, and the freshest of
willows, and the clear waters rushed around them in the most inviting
manner imaginable. And there were numbers of people extremely ready to
accept this delectable invitation of these waters. There they came in
fine weather, and as these islands were only separated from the main-land
by a little and very shallow stream, it was delightful for lovers to get
across--with laughter, and treading on stepping-stones, and slipping off
the stepping-stones up to the ankles into the cool brook, and pretty
screams, and fresh laughter, and then landing on those sunny, and to them
really enchanted islands. And then came fishermen; solitary fishermen,
and fishermen in rows; fishermen lying in the flowery grass, with
fragrant meadow-sweet and honey-breathing clover all about their ears;
and fishermen standing in file, as if they were determined to clear all
the river of fish in one day. And there were other lovers, and troops of
loiterers, and shouting roysterers, going along under the boughs of the
wood, and following the turns of that most companionable of rivers. And
there were boats going up and down; boats full of young people, all
holiday finery and mirth, and boats with duck-hunters, and other, to Sir
Roger, detestable marauders, with guns and dogs, and great bottles of
beer. In the fine grove, on summer days, there might be found hundreds
of people. There were picnic parties, fathers and mothers with whole
families of children, and a great promenade of the delighted artisans and
their wives or sweethearts.

In the times prior to the sudden growth of the neighboring town, Great
Stockington, and to the simultaneous development of the love-of-nature
principle in the Stockingtonians, nothing had been thought of all these
roads. The roads were well enough till they led to these inroads. Then
Sir Roger aroused himself. This must be changed. The roads must be
stopped. Nothing was easier to his fancy. His fellow-justices, Sir
Benjamin Bullockshed and Squire Sheepshank, had asked his aid to stop the
like nuisances, and it