Ascending by a steep, rocky path, one arrives at a rather pretentious looking wind-mill, which spreads its wide white arms protectingly over the cottages below.  Barrels of flour and sacks of meal, well filled and plentiful in number, attest its thriving business, and the miller himself, in a properly dusty coat, looks about him with contented air.  At the foot of the hill upon which the mill is perched, are several dwellings—­all showing signs of more or less prosperous life, with the exception of one, which affords the orthodox “haunted house” belonging to every well-regulated village.  The ruined walls of this old mansion, with lichen cropping out from every crevice; the unhinged doors and broken windows; the ladder rotting as it leans against the moss-grown roof, the broken well-sweep and deserted barn, offer an aspect of desolation and decay which should prove sufficient bait to tempt any ghost of moderate demands.

In direct contrast to the gloom which surrounds this now empty and forsaken home, one observes, in a shady grove surmounting a ridge of hills which rise somewhat steeply here from the roadway, a party of “pic-nickers” gaily attired and disporting themselves after the time-honored manner of such merry-makers; swinging, dancing, or, better still, strolling off arm in arm, in search of cooler shades, and of that company which is never a crowd.

At the base of this rocky ridge, the same stream which one meets above flowing darkly under arch and bridge, winds placidly along in sunshine and shadow until it loses itself in a clump of alders and willows quite at the edge of the box-bordered terrace; and here the village ends.

Not so my sketch:  for I have purposely left it to the last to make mention of the great central idea round which all the rest is gathered, and which, doubtless, formed the germ of the whole oddly-conceived, but most admirably-executed plan.  This is the “Cat’s Monument” of which Nannette had made mention, and which is a structure so original and imposing that it deserves special and minute description.

About midway the terrace, and conspicuous from its size and height, rises a mound of earth shaped into the semblance of an urn or vase, crusted thickly with bits of rock, moss, and pebbles, and overgrown with a tangle of tiny vines.  Surmounting this picturesque pedestal is an obelisk of black-veined marble on a granite base, the whole rising some seven feet from the ground.  On the polished surface of this memorial pillar is inscribed, in large black capitals, the following classic and touching tribute to the venerable departed who sleeps in peace below: 

    IN MEMORIAM
      TOMMY
  FELINI GENERIS
      OPTIMUS. 
  DECESSIT A VITA
  MENSE NOVEMBRIS
  ANNO AETATIS 19.

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Quid me ploras?  Nonne decessi gravis senectute?  Nonne vivo amicorum ardentium memoria?

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