CHAPTER I. ASHLEIGH.

Had’st thou lived in days of old,

O, what wonders had been told

Of thy lively countenance,

And thy humid eyes that dance

In the midst of their own brightness,

In the very fane of lightness;

Over which thine eyebrows, leaning,

Picture out each lovely meaning;

In a dainty bend they lie

Like the streaks across the sky,

Or the feathers from a crow,

Fallen on a bed of snow.

Keats.

The village of Ashleigh is situated in one of the most lovely and romantic of the English counties; where mountains, valleys, woods and forest trees appear to vie with each other in stately magnificence. The village is literally embosomed amongst the trees. Lofty elms, majestic oaks, and wide-spreading beech trees grow in and around it. On one side, as far as the eye can reach, are mountains covered with verdure, with all their varied and lovely tints of green.