"And I wish we were there, Mistress Deborah," said Richard. "It will be a stiff pull from the village with this slippery ground." "We shall do very well, Richard," answered Mrs. Deborah. "I dare say the young ladies and Mary Lee will not mind walking a little to lighten the load." We at once professed ourselves willing and glad to walk a while. Mrs. Deborah smiled, and bade us keep our strength till it was wanted, as we had seven miles yet to go. We stopped for our nooning at a farmhouse where Mrs. Deborah was well-known, and where we were received with immense hospitality, and regaled with all sorts of good things—milk and cream, fresh bread and butter, cheese, honey, and cold beef. The good woman would have dressed a fowl for us, but that Mrs. Deborah would not allow. This was the first time I ever tasted ewe-milk cheese. I should dearly love to see a bit once more, but you might as well talk to the folk hereabout of milking the cat as milking an ewe. We had come down into quite a deep valley, through which ran a considerable stream, with narrow fertile fields on each side. Mrs. Deborah told us this was our own burn, swollen by the accession of several other streams. We now began to ascend once more, a part of our road lying between fine woods. Then we came to the village, which looked forlorn enough to me. The church was large and handsome, though partly in ruins, and there was a row of very ancient cottages near it built of stone and covered with tiles, which Mrs. Chloe told us were almshouses, maintained by a charge on the estate. It was near sunset when we came to a great gateway with ramping stone monsters surmounting the posts on either side, and a stone lodge, from which came out a pretty young woman with a little babe in her arms to open the gates. "Now, young ones, if you like to save the horses a little and try your own legs, you may get out and walk a way," said Mrs. Deborah. "Stop where you see a stone bench and we will take you up again. Keep under the trees and you cannot miss your way." We descended accordingly, glad of the chance to walk a little. The sun was setting in a great pomp of red and gold, and the moon, near the full and an hour high, hung in the midst of that solemn blue shade which creeps up the eastern sky of a frosty evening. The trees were leafless, of course, but the turf under foot was fresh and green. A low wall bounded the avenue on one side, and on the other spread a waste of bracken and gorse—fuzz they call it there—on which some honey-buds still lingered. Presently we came upon a troop of deer, which rushed away in great alarm at the sound of our voices. We could see before us the upper part of the great hall gleaming in the solemn sunset rays. The air was clear and sweet with the peculiar fragrance of peat smoke, and a robin was singing an autumn song in the trees. We walked slowly, for the ascent was a steep one, and the carriages were far behind us.