Charlie was worse—one pleading look at us, one slight shiver, and our pet was no more.
There is a little grassy grave down in the orchard, that the children always cover with flowers in spring-time and summer.
That is Charlie’s.
Chapter Sixteen.
Professor Dick’s Academy: A Strange Adventure.
“Bodily rest is sleep—is soothing sleep,
Spirit rest is silence deep,
O daily discord! cease, for mercy cease,
Break not this happy peace.”
The caravan lay high up on a lonely moorland, amid the solitary grandeur of the Grampian mountains—a thousand good feet and over above the level of the sea.
The scenery around us was desolate in the extreme, for no vestige of human life, no house, no hut, not even a patch of cultivated land, was anywhere to be seen around us. Above was the blue sky, with here and there a fleecy cloud, and yonder an eagle soaring. Around us, as a horizon, the eternal hills, many of them flecked and patched with the snows, that never melt. Far beneath, at one side, was a stream; though not visible, we could hear its drowsy chafing roar, as it tumbled onwards, forming many a foaming cataract, to seek for outlet in some distant lake. On the other side was a good Scotch mile of heathery moor, blazing purple and crimson in the sunshine.