every thing is still bare and uncultivated. As far as the eye can
penetrate, nothing is to be seen in that quarter but arid plains thinly
covered with stunted vegetation, while the horizon is bounded by that
blue and cloudy line which always marks the limit of a desert. Yet, as
we journey over these vast spaces, it is impossible not to observe, from
time to time, that a clear and slender rivulet meanders here and there
over the moor, and that its verdant banks are studded with vigorous
plants and thrifty trees; while in many places the hardy sons of toil
who took advantage of the neighboring water, have opened their lonely
farms, built comfortable houses, and frequently gathered themselves
together in neat and thrifty villages.

In one of these spots, where meadow-land and pasturage have made
agriculture profitable, and by the side of an unfrequented road, there
is a farm of considerable size and value. The massive trees which spread
their thick shade on every side attest that the spot has been occupied
and cultivated for several generations. Besides, the ditches which
surround it, and the stone bridge that leads to the principal gate,
justify the belief that the estate has some right to be considered a
lordly demesne. In the neighborhood it is known as GRINSELHOF. The
entire front of the property is covered by the homestead of the farmer,
comprising his stables and granges; so that, in fact, every thing in
their rear is concealed by these edifices as well as by dense thickets
and hedges which are growing in all the wild luxuriance of nature.
Indeed, the dwelling of the proprietor was a mystery even to the farmer
who worked the soil; for its surrounding copses were an impenetrable
veil to his eyes, beyond which neither he nor his family were ever
allowed to pass without special permission.

Within this lonely and sacred precinct, buried in foliage, was a large