perfect as time passes on.

There is a fine old park around these lovely ruins; and, not far
off, a beautiful stream of water, with a curious bridge over it. The
old monks well knew how to choose beautiful places to live in. All
harmonizes, except--I grieve to tell of it--a shocking modern house,
very near, very ugly, and, I suppose, ridiculously elegant and
comfortable inside. From this hideosity you must resolutely turn
away; and then you may say, as I did, that your mortal eyes have
never rested on any thing so lovely as the ruins of Calder Abbey.

Sometimes Miss Martineau would tell us some pretty legend, or some
good story.

This was one of the legends: Near the borders of the Ullswater is
the beautiful Ara Force, one of the most lovely falls I have seen in
England. One may stand below, and look up at the rushing stream, or
above, on the top of the fall. Here, long ago, in the time of the
crusades, stood a pair of lovers; and here grows an old oak which
was their trysting tree. The lady was of noble birth, and lived in a
castle near by; and her true knight used to come at the still hour
of evening to meet her at the Ara Force.

At length the lover was called away to the Holy Land. As he left his
lady, he vowed to be her true knight, and to return and wed her.
Many long days passed away, and the lady waited in vain for her true
knight. Though she heard often from others of his chivalrous deeds
in the East, yet no word came from him to tell her he was faithful;
and she began to fear that he was no longer true to her, but was
serving some other lady. Despair at last came upon her; and she grew