They are usually very solidly built, and, though they present sometimes a stern and severe aspect, they are well suited to a rough climate, as they are warm and comfortable, and so substantial that they can resist the floods which often inundate mountainous districts. The group of cottages which we sketched some years back at Glossop, in Derbyshire, bore up against a singularly severe catastrophe. The little mountain stream shown in the foreground was dammed by a very solid earthwork higher up the valley so as to form a reservoir. During a terrible storm of wind and rain the dam was swept away, and the vast torrent of water poured down the valley, sweeping everything before it, and completely submerging the lower part of the village. The old stone houses shown in our drawing were flooded to their upper storey. A man who described the occurrence to us said— “It was all so sudden-like. I heard a loud roar, followed by a rushing noise, which made the house seem to rock. I jumped out of bed and found myself up to my knees in water. I got my wife and children to stand upon the table and chairs, while I tried to find out what was going on, half expecting that the old house would come down, but it stood like a rock; and when the water subsided, it was as good as ever, though some of the modern houses were reduced to ruin.” [Illustration: LOOSE STONE AND PEAT COTTAGE, SCOTLAND AND N. ENGLAND.] These stone cottages, with their heavy mullioned windows and low-pitched gables, continued to be built down nearly to the end of the last century. Of course, they must have been expensive; but their durability seems to prove that the extra outlay was, in the end, true economy. Artistically, they appear well suited to their bleak grey surroundings. These great, wild woodlands, interspersed with shapeless and fantastic rocks and strange-looking bowlders, swept by howling winds, so that no tree can lift its head save under shelter of the hillside, are not so unkindly as they seem. [Illustration: STONE COTTAGES, GLOSSOP, DERBYSHIRE.] We once knew a beautiful and delicate girl who had to leave London and, with her parents, live in one of these wild-looking districts. After a short time she grew strong and still more beautiful. Later on she married, and went with her husband to live in a southern land under the influence of a more genial climate. But, alas, it proved less friendly to her than the rugged North, for within six months she died. Three days before this sad event she said to her husband— “If I could only feel the wind over the great moor I think I could live.” He would have given all he possessed to save her, but the doctors assured him that she would certainly die on the journey. Health is often to be found in these rugged stone houses of the North country, stern and sombre as they look when compared with the cheerful half-timber cottages of the South.