the whole surrounded by a large earthwork, covered with elms.  To the left lay another pool; to the right, at the end of the terrace, stood a small red-brick chapel, with a big Perpendicular window.  The house was to the left of us, in the centre of the terrace, of old red brick, with tall chimneys and mullioned windows.  My friend the farmer chatted pleasantly about the house, but was evidently prouder of his rose-trees and his chrysanthemums.  The day grew darker as we wandered, and a pleasant plodding and clinking of horses coming home made itself heard in the yard.  Then he asked me to enter the house.  What was my surprise when he led me into a large hall, with painted panels and a painted ceiling, occupying all the centre of the house.  He told me a little of the history of the place, of a visit paid by Charles the First, and other simple traditions, showing me all the time a quiet, serious kindness, which reminded one of the entertainment given to the wayfarers of the Pilgrim’s Progress.

Once more we went out on the little terrace and looked round; the night began to fall, and lights began to twinkle in the house, while the fire glowed and darted in the hall.

But what I cannot, I am afraid, impart to you is the strange tranquillity that came softly down into my mind; everything took its part in this atmosphere of peace.  The overgrown terrace, the mellow brickwork, the bare trees, the tall house, the gentle kindliness of my host.  And then I seemed so far away from the world; there was nothing in sight but the fallows and the woods, rounded with mist; it seemed at once the only place in the world, and yet out of it.  The old house stood patiently waiting, serving its quiet ends, growing in beauty every year, seemingly so unconscious of its grace and charm, and yet, as it were, glad to be loved.  It seemed to give me just the calm, the tenderness I wanted.  To assure me that, whatever pain and humiliation there were in the world, there was a strong and loving Heart behind.  My host said good-bye to me very kindly, begging me to come again and bring any one to see the place.  “We are very lonely here, and it does us good to see a stranger.”

I rode away, and stopped at a corner where a last view of the house was possible; it stood regarding me, it seemed, mournfully, and yet with a solemn welcome from its dark windows.  And here was another beautiful vignette; close to me, by a hedge, stood an old labourer, a fork in one hand, the other shading his eyes, watching with simple intentness a flight of wild-duck that was passing overhead, dipping to some sequestered pool.