across which the
brier, the dog-rose, and the white bindweed have clasped themselves in
fantastic tendrils. The white hemlock shoots up rankly by the hedge, and
the tall bulrush and water-lily mark the course of the little stream which
is sliding noiselessly past among the grass. It is early morning, as we
see by the long oblique shadows. Yet industry is already at work. The
wheel of that weather-stained and lichen-covered mill--call it Flatford if
you will--is in motion, and the dripping water, glancing in the morning
sun, descends from the cogs in a shower of diamonds. The stream that
supplies the mill is crossed further down by a rustic bridge, as
picturesque as it is inconvenient. Beyond, and towards the centre, a long
wooded lane stretches out towards the horizon, close and overarching at
top, but with the sunbeams straggling in between the trunks, and
checkering the cool road with a network of light and shadow. About midway,
a small spring, trickling from a bank, has been collected in a rude stone
trough, for the refreshment of panting horse and wayworn traveller; beside
which two market wains--the one on its way to the neighbouring town, the
other returning from it--have stopped. The horses are watering; the
waggoners gossiping over the news, or smoking together the calumet of
peace; while a group of urchins, in whom the embryo ostler or future
strapper are easily detected, are looking on with that interest in all
that concerns horseflesh which distinguishes the rising members of an
agricultural population. Beyond the lane are gentle hills, "rounded about
by the low wavering sky"--some smoke indicating the market-town, and the
spire of the village church leading the eye out of the picture, and
crowning the cheerful serenity of the landscape.

The day advances, and the scene is changed. In the foreground we have a
building-yard by the river. Boats and barges are seen in their rise,
progress, decline, and fall;--some completed, some exhibiting merely their
skeletons upon the stocks; some blistering in the sun beside the broken
pier; some, which have seen better days, now entirely out of commission,
and falling to pieces among the mud;--placed in all attitudes, and
projecting broad and picturesque shadows along the ground. But these
shadows are soft and transparent, not dark and cutting; for the sultry
haze which rises steaming from all around, makes the summer sunshine
veiled and dim. All nature is in a state of ind