On the other side, beyond the trees, the climb is stiffer, and the hills rise, as it sometimes seems, into the low-lying clouds. I can see a few houses under the shelter of a clump of chestnuts and sycamores, the farthest outposts of their comrades in the valley, but far above them rises the moor, the glorious moor, heather-clad, wild, and, but for the winding roads, as God made it. Far away to the west it stretches, and when the day is clear I catch the glow of the gorse and the daily decreasing hint of purple on the horizon miles away; but in these autumn days the distance is often wrapped in a diaphanous shawl of mist, which yet lends a charm to the glories it half conceals. High up the hill to the left is the village of Marsland, with its squat, grey church, which I must visit one day; and farther away still--for I must be candid at all costs--there are a few factory chimneys, but they are too distant to be obtrusive. Such is my picture: would that I could paint it better. Looking upon it my spirit bathes and is refreshed. CHAPTER V FARMER BROWN IS PHOTOGRAPHED My studio is complete at last, and I have already had one customer, not counting Mother Hubbard, who had the privilege of performing the opening ceremony, and who was my first sitter. I insisted upon that, all the more because the dear old soul had never been photographed before in her life, and was disposed to regard the transaction in the light of an adventure. She is altogether too gentle and pliant to oppose her will to mine on anything less important than a matter of principle, but I could see that she was grievously disappointed when I would not let her put on her very best garment, a remarkable black satin dress in the fashion of a past generation, which she keeps in lavender and tissue paper at the bottom of the special drawer which is full of memories and fading grandeur. I wanted her just as she was, with the shawl loose upon her shoulders, and the knitting-needles in her hand, and that pleasant expression of countenance which makes all soulful people fall in love with her at first sight. I succeeded in the end, and the delight of the old lady when I showed her a rough print a day or two later was good to see. "But I wish you could have taken me in my satin, love, and with the lace collar. Matthew always thought I looked nice in them." "You look nice in anything," I replied, "and I am sure your husband thought so; but _I_ want the dear old Mother Hubbard of to-day; for, do you know, I am going to send you to a big News Agency, and if you are accepted you and I will make holiday, and do it right royally."