small wood of wind-swept oaks, on the top of a long broad-backed
down, lately converted into farm-land, and ploughed up. About half a
mile from this, going by strangely winding deep lanes, you reach the
bottom of a wooded dell, very lonely and quiet, with a stream running
at the bottom, that spreads out into marshes and rush-beds, with here
and there a broad brown pool. Crossing the little ford, for there is
only a rude bridge for foot-passengers, and ascending the opposite
hill, you find yourself at last, after going up the steep overhung
road, at the gate of a somewhat larger house than usual in those
desolations.

The gate-posts are stone, with granite balls at the top, and there is
a short drive, which brings you to a square mottled front of brown
stone, with two large projections, or small wings, on each side.

This is a small manor, known as Tredennis, anciently belonging to the
Templeton family, whose pictures ornament the hall. It had been used
latterly merely as a farmhouse; but a local solicitor, desiring that
a somewhat more profitable arrangement might be made respecting it,
had the manor put up at the extremely moderate rent of £60, and
banished the farmer to an adjoining tenement.

There was a terraced garden, very rich in flowers in the summer. It
faced south and west, commanding a view of a winding valley, very
peaceful and still, a great part of which was overgrown with stunted
oak copses, or divided into large sloping fields. At the end, the
water of a tidal creek—Tressillian water—caught the eye. The only
sounds that ever penetrated to the car were the cries of birds, or
the sound of sheep-bells, or the lowing of cows, with an occasional
halloo from the farm, children calling among the copses, or the