Nothing, indeed, which the most fertile imagination could suggest seemed to be wanting.
There was one extremely well-conceived device at this delightful spot, which I never remember to have seen anywhere else, though, there must often occur in other places similar situations in which it might be imitated.

Not far from the house, but quite hid under a thickly-wooded cliff, overhanging a quiet bight or cove, about ten or fifteen yards across, lay a perfectly secluded pool, with a bottom of snow-white sand.

It was deep in the middle, but shelved gradually to its margin, which rested on a narrow strip, or beach, of small round polished pebbles.

This fringe, encircling the cove, was surmounted by a dry grassy bank, or natural terrace, reaching to the foot of the rock, the face of which was not merely perpendicular, but projecting so much that the top more than plumbed the edge of the basin.

Along the sky-line there was drawn a fence or veil of briars, honeysuckles, and other impervious bushes, interspersed with myrtles, wild roses, and foxgloves, so thickly woven together, that all external view of this _beau ideal_ of a bath was rendered impossible.