I need hardly say they had no idea the house on the hill was "Woodbine Villa." He left them, and, sick at heart, turned away from Heath Hill, and strolled out of the lower part of the town, and wandered almost at random, and sad as death.
He soon left the main road, and crossed a stile; it took him by the side of a babbling brook, and at the edge of a picturesque wood.

Ever and anon he came to a water-wheel, and above the water-wheel a dam made originally by art, but now looking like a sweet little lake.

They were beautiful places; the wheels and their attendant works were old and rugged, but picturesque and countrified; and the little lakes behind, fringed by the master-grinder's garden, were strangely peaceful and pretty.

Here the vulgar labor of the grindstone was made beautiful and incredibly poetic.
"Ah!" thought poor Little, "how happy a workman must be that plies his trade here in the fresh air.

And how unfortunate I am to be tied to a power-wheel, in that filthy town, instead of being here, where Nature turns the wheel, and the birds chirp at hand, and the scene and the air are all purity and peace." One place of the kind was particularly charming.