"It would have been worse than inconvenient to live below in the valley. A rich noble could not have been sure of keeping any precious thing his house held--unless his retainers were very numerous and always on duty; and in that case the lands would have come by the worst. The only really secure places, Maggie, were the religious houses." "What dreadful times!" said Flora. "So these stories show them." "Uncle Eden," said Esther, "it is time to go in and get ready for dinner." "Is it? Oh, this pine wood is better than dinner! Look how the light is coming red through the boles of the trees! Feel this air that is playing about my face! Smell the pines!" "But you will want dinner, Uncle Eden, all the same, and it will be ready." "Well," said Mr. Murray, rousing himself so far as to get up on one elbow. "Where shall we go for our reading to-morrow afternoon?" said Maggie. "The Lookout rock," suggested Meredith. "Do you like that, Uncle Eden?" "I like it all, Maggie. If to-morrow is like to-day, I think the Lookout rock will be very enjoyable." "And then you can look at the sky while you are talking to us," said Maggie comfortably. "Why precisely at the sky?" Meredith asked laughing. "Oh, it's so beautiful up there sometimes." They sauntered slowly back to the house, through the sweet pines, under the illuminating red rays which were coming level against the tree-stems. Then out of the wood and among the flower-beds and shrubbery surrounding the house; with the open view of sky and river, purple-brown and ruddy gold lights flowing upon the sides of the hills, reflecting the western brilliance, which yet was warm and rich rather than dazzling. "I never saw such a place as this!" exclaimed Meredith for the fourth or fifth time. "The world is a wonderful place generally," observed Mr. Murray thoughtfully. "Rich--rich! 'the riches of His grace,' and the riches of His wisdom." They were a very happy party at dinner. Fenton, it is true, came out singularly in the conversation, and gave a number of details respecting life at school and his views of life in the world. Mr. Murray's answers however were so humorous, and so wise and sweet at the same time, that it seemed Fenton only furnished a text for the most pleasant discourse. And after dinner Maggie got out stereoscopic views, and she and others delighted themselves with a new look at the Middle Ages. "What a strange thing it must be," said Meredith, "to live where every farm and every church has a history; of course every village." "Haven't farms and villages in our country a history?" Maggie inquired. "No," said Esther; "of course not." "A few," said Mr. Murray. "Such New England farms, for instance, as still bear the names 'Lonesome' and 'Scrabblehard.' But the histories are not very old, and refer to nothing more picturesque than the struggles of the early settlers." "What struggles?" Maggie wanted to know.