“The spot had all the charm of complete desolation, combined with the charm which always, to my mind, pertains to lakes and lagoons. Eager as a boy or a loosened retriever, I ran across the meadow, and found the grass long and green, and sown with innumerable crowsfoot flowers; underneath the green was sand again, but here it glimmered like gold-dust. As I reached the sedges on the lake-side, a teal rose in full summer plumage, wheeled swiftly round the lake, then returning, splashed down boldly, and swam within a stone’s throw of the shore, when, peering through the rushes, I caught a glimpse of his mate, paddling anxiously along with eight little fluffs of down behind her. Then, just outside the sedges, I saw the golden shield of water broken by the circles of rising trout. It was too much. I hastened back to the caravan, and informed Tim that I had no intention of going any further--that day at least. “So here we have been since yesterday, and, up to this, have not set eyes upon a single soul. Such peace and quietness is a foretaste of Paradise. As this is the most satisfactory day I have yet spent in my pilgrimage, although it bears, at the same time, a family likeness to the other days of the past fortnight, I purpose setting down verbatim, seriatim, and chronologically the manner in which I occupied myself from dawn to sunset. “6 a.m.--Wake and see that Tim has already disappeared, and folded up his hammock. Observe the morning sun looking in with a fresh cheery countenance at the window. Turn over again with a yawn, and go to sleep for another five minutes. “7.15 a.m.--Wake again, and discover, by looking at my watch, that instead of five minutes I have slept an hour and a quarter. Spring up at once, and slip on shirt and trousers; then pass out, barefooted, into the open air. No sign of Tim, but a fire is lighted close to the caravan, which shadows it from the rays of the morning sun. Stroll down to the lake, and, throwing off what garments I wear, prepare for a bath. Cannot get out for a swim on account of the reeds. The bath over, return and finish my toilet in the caravan. “8 a.m.--Tim has reappeared. He has been right down to the sea-shore, a walk of about two miles and a half. He informs me, to my disgust, that there is some sort of a human settlement there, and a lifeboat station. He has brought back in his baglet, as specimens of the local products, a dozen new-laid eggs, some milk, and a loaf of bread. The last, I observe, is in a fossil state. I asked who sold it him? He answers, William Jones.