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LANDOR'S COTTAGE
A Pendant to "The Domain of Arnheim"
DURING A pedestrian trip last summer, through one or two of the river
counties of New York, I found myself, as the day declined, somewhat
embarrassed about the road I was pursuing. The land undulated very
remarkably; and my path, for the last hour, had wound about and about so
confusedly, in its effort to keep in the valleys, that I no longer knew
in what direction lay the sweet village of B-, where I had determined
to stop for the night. The sun had scarcely shone--strictly
speaking--during the day, which nevertheless, had been unpleasantly
warm. A smoky mist, resembling that of the Indian summer, enveloped all
things, and of course, added to my uncertainty. Not that I cared much
about the matter. If I did not hit upon the village before sunset,
or even before dark, it was more than possible that a little
Dutch farmhouse, or something of that kind, would soon make its
appearance--although, in fact, the neighborhood (perhaps on account of
being more picturesque than fertile) was very sparsely inhabited. At
all events, with my knapsack for a pillow, and my hound as a sentry, a
bivouac in the open air was just the thing which would have amused me.
I sauntered on, therefore, quite at ease--Ponto taking charge of my
gun--until at length, just as I had begun to consider whether the
numerous little glades that led hither and thither, were intended to
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