We are not the creatures of a day. Our lives reach far back into the past. The blood of our ancestors beats in our hearts. Our religion has been cradled in their beliefs. The footsteps of the departed have consecrated the.place-
"Where'er we tread, 'tis haunted, holy ground."
Hill and dale and running strealp., frowning battlement and wooded bank, moorland pasture and tangled brake, are ever changing the landscape to the roving eye, and charming it into admiration. Many a friend has put the question to us, "Tell me all about this lovely place of yours, wiII you?" And at length some one" put it into our head" that it would make an excellent subject for a pen-and-ink sketch.