the wood, leaning over a gate. He pointed before him with his stick.
"Palkeney Manor," he remarked, drily.
Madrasia let out a sudden, whole-souled exclamation of delighted wonder. I was not surprised; the scene before us was one of that peculiar charm and quiet beauty which no other country than our own can show. We were looking on an undulating park, vividly green, studded with old trees beneath which antlered deer were browsing; there was a tree-shaded stretch of water in one of the miniature valleys, and cattle standing knee-deep in it, and above this, on a rising ground, backed by tall elms and giant chestnuts, stood a beautiful old house, mellowed by centuries of age.
We were all intent for a time, staring. Then Madrasia spoke, softly.
"What a picture of a place!" she said. "Jimmie! even you must think it is!"
But Parslewe gave us one of his queer looks.
"Um!" he answered. "To tell you the truth, my girl, I was wondering if the drains
