“You see a fine property here, Miss Wood,” Major Hockin said to me, as we sat, on the day after I was allowed to come, enjoying the fresh breeze from the sea and the newness of the February air, and looking abroad very generally: “a very fine property, but neglected--shamefully, horribly, atrociously neglected--but capable of noble things, of grand things, of magnificent, with a trifle of judicious outlay.” “Oh, please not to talk of outlay, my dear,” said good Mrs. Hockin, gently; “it is such an odious word; and where in the world is it to come from?” “Leave that to me. When I was a boy my favorite copy in my copy-book was, 'Where there's a will there's a way.' Miss Wood, what is your opinion? But wait, you must have time to understand the subject. First we bring a railway--always the first step; why, the line is already made for it by the course of the old river, and the distance from Newport three miles and a half. It ought not to cost quite 200 pounds a mile--the mere outlay for rails and sleepers. The land is all mine, and--and of course other landed proprietors'. Very well: these would all unite, of course; so that not a farthing need be paid for land, which is the best half of the battle. We have the station here--not too near my house; that would never do; I could not bear the noise--but in a fine central place where nobody on earth could object to it--lively, and close at hand for all of them. Unluckily I was just too late. We have lost a Parliamentary year through that execrable calm--you remember all about it. Otherwise we would have had Billy Puff stabled at Bruntsea by the first of May. But never mind; we shall do it all the better and cheaper by taking our time about it. Very well: we have the railway opened and the trade of the place developed. We build a fine terrace of elegant villas, a crescent also, and a large hotel replete with every luxury; and we form the finest sea-parade in England by simply assisting nature. Half London comes down here to bathe, to catch shrimps, to flirt, and to do the rest of it. We become a select, salubrious, influential, and yet economical place; and then what do we do, Mrs. Hockin?” “My dear, how can I tell? But I hope that we should rest and be thankful.” “Not a bit of it. I should hope not, indeed. Erema, what do we do then?” “It is useless to ask me. Well, then, perhaps you set up a handsome saw-mill!” “A saw-mill! What a notion of Paradise! No; this is what we do--but remember that I speak in the strictest confidence; dishonest antagonism might arise, if we ventilated our ideas too soon--Mrs. Hockin and Miss Wood, we demand the restoration of our river!--the return of our river to its ancient course.” “I see,” said his wife; “oh, how grand that would be! and how beautiful from our windows! That really, now, is a noble thought!”