little bubbling cascades ran till they swelled a beautiful river.
Through the straggling trees and bushes the wind whistled, and on them
the birds sung, particularly the robins; they also found shelter in the
ivy of an old castle, a haunted one, as the story went; it was situated
on the brow of one of the mountains, and commanded a view of the sea.
This castle had been inhabited by some of her ancestors; and many tales
had the old house-keeper told her of the worthies who had resided there.

When her mother frowned, and her friend looked cool, she would steal to
this retirement, where human foot seldom trod--gaze on the sea, observe
the grey clouds, or listen to the wind which struggled to free itself
from the only thing that impeded its course. When more cheerful, she
admired the various dispositions of light and shade, the beautiful tints
the gleams of sunshine gave to the distant hills; then she rejoiced in
existence, and darted into futurity.

One way home was through the cavity of a rock covered with a thin layer
of earth, just sufficient to afford nourishment to a few stunted shrubs
and wild plants, which grew on its sides, and nodded over the summit. A
clear stream broke out of it, and ran amongst the pieces of rocks
fallen into it. Here twilight always reigned--it seemed the Temple of
Solitude; yet, paradoxical as the assertion may appear, when the foot
sounded on the rock, it terrified the intruder, and inspired a strange
feeling, as if the rightful sovereign was dislodged. In this retreat she
read Thomson's Seasons, Young's Night-Thoughts, and Paradise Lost.

At a little distance from it were the huts of a few poor fishermen, who
supported their numerous children by their precarious labour. In these
little huts she frequently rested, and denied herself every childish
gratification, in order to relieve the necessities of the inhabitants.