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 Brighton to Inverness, on arriving at the latter town, send a telegram to a friend, saying, "We arrived at the end of Paradise this evening"? There is something very lovable about the English landscape; where grander scenes excite your admiration, it wins your affections, and will not let them go again, it nestles so near your heart. I have beheld the finest scenery the earth has to show, oftentimes with almost awe-struck admiration, but only the peace-bestowing English scenery have I ever felt to love!

About two miles on our way, and a little to the right of our road, we observed Kyme's ancient tower uprising amidst surrounding foliage; this picturesque relic of past days gave a special interest and character to the prospect with its flavour of old-world romance. The solitary tower is all that remains of the once stately abode of the Kymes; it is now incorporated with a homely farmstead, and tells its own story of fallen fortunes.

Driving on we soon reached a wide dyke, which we crossed on an ancient bridge; here a lonely wayside inn proclaimed itself on its sign with the comprehensive title of "The Angler's, Cyclist's, and Traveller's Rest." The dyke struck us, even on that bright sunshiny day, as being a dark and dreary stretch of water of a cheerless leaden hue, embanked and treeless. But the sullen waters of the dyke only acted as a foil to enhance the bright beauty of the sun-suffused landscape all around, as the shadow gives value to the light, and too much beauty is apt to cloy. A picture may be too pretty. Said an art