Oakstead, the estate of Godfrey Bergan, was separated from the lands of the Hall by the small river—or "creek," in local parlance—which has before been mentioned. The pleasant dwelling¹ of the owner stood not far from a picturesque² bend of the stream, commanding a view of its tawny³, slumberous⁴ current for a considerable distance up and down,—a view made up of gentlest curves and softest coloring only, yet with enough of quiet beauty to arrest Bergan's feet, for some moments, on the oak-shadowed lawn.

The river's tide stole almost imperceptibly past, mirroring in its still bosom⁵ the sunset-painted sky, and the graver tinted⁶ objects of earth, with equal felicity,—like a gentle spirit, in whose well-ordered life the things of either world find their appropriate place and exquisite⁸ harmony. Just at that point of the upper stream where an artist would have placed it for the best pictorial⁹ effect, was the bridge of the main road, with rough abutments half-buried in wild foliage¹⁰, and railings overrun with vines; and at a remoter point down its shining course, the slenderer span of a narrow footbridge, with a single rustic¹¹ railing, was also seen, idealized by distance into an aerial passway fit for fairy feet. In the earlier days of Godfrey's proprietorship¹², while the half-brothers were yet on friendly terms, this latter structure had furnished the means of easy and frequent communication between the two households. On the cessation of

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