made it afraid of man; but no, it forgot the evil and remembered the kindness only, and came to meet as a friend the hunter who shot it. It was long mourned by its best friend.
This, if not the last chase in our waters, was certainly one of the very latest. The bay crossed by the frightened creature has been called “Fawn Bay,” and the fine spring in the field above also bears the name of “Fawn Spring.”
Friday, 11th.—Very warm; thermometer 89. The village has not been so dusty for years; of course, walking and driving are less agreeable than usual; and yet the country looks so beautifully that one is unwilling to remain long within doors.
This afternoon, by striking into a narrow cross-road which carried us over the hills, we had a very pleasant drive; the track was quite grassy in places, the shady boughs of an unfenced wood overhung the carriage, and pretty glimpses of the lake and hillsides opened as we slowly ascended. It may be well at times to come suddenly upon a beautiful view; the excitement of surprise adds in many instances to the enjoyment. Where the country is level and commonplace, the surprise becomes an important element from being less easily attained; after driving through a tame, uninteresting country, if we come suddenly upon a wild nook, with its groves, and brook, and rocks, we no doubt enjoy it the more from the charm of contrast. Where the landscape depends for its merit upon one principal object, as a cascade, a small lake, a ruin, &c., &c., the effect is the same, and it is generally desirable that the best view be seen at once. But as regards hills and mountains, the case is very different, for the gradual ascent is in itself a full source of enjoyment; every turn we reach in the climbing path, every rood we gain in elevation, opens some fresh object
