Over a half-mile or so, rendered weary by unwillingness, I was led to the cottage door--no such cottage as some of my readers will picture, with roses and honeysuckle hiding its walls, but a dreary little house with nothing green to cover the brown stones of which it was built, and having an open ditch in front of it with a stone slab over it for a bridge.

Did I say there was nothing on the walls?
This morning there was the loveliest sunshine, and that I was going to leave behind.

It was very bitter, especially as I had expected to go with my elder brother to spend the day at a neighbouring farm.
Mrs.Mitchell opened the door, and led me in.

It was an awful experience.

Dame Shand stood at her table ironing.