They were now in a sort of cellar, at one end of which was a door. Immediately a feathered hat emerged, under which a familiar countenance was visible. Already the warm sun was drawing from the pines their delicious odour. " "As many as you please, Sir Rowland," replied Jonathan, resuming his seat. The birds were singing blithely amid the trees,—the lowing of the cows resounded from the yard,—a delicious perfume from the garden was wafted through the open window,—at a distance, the church-bells of Willesden were heard tolling for evening service. “It’s settled.
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