It realises my idea of perfect rural beauty, as I got it from engravings after the landscape painters.

Oh, you shall go there with me some day.' Her father smiled and shook his head a little.
'Perhaps,' he said; and added a favourite phrase of his, 'while there is life there is hope.' 'Of course there is,' rejoined Emily, with gaiety which was unusual in her.

'No smoke; the hills blue against a lovely sky! trees covered to the very roots with greenness; rich old English homes and cottages--oh, you know the kind your ideal of a cottage--low tiled roofs, latticed windows, moss and lichen and climbing flowers.

Farmyards sweet with hay, and gleaming dairies.

That country is my home!' With how rich a poetry it clothed itself in her remembrance, the land of milk and honey, indeed, her heart's home.