Some Conversation With An Ancient Druid.

I first went to the bleak " Fjords " of Norway , and ascended that country ' s lonely heights ; I then passed through snowy Russia , which had very little interest for me . Denmark I found a much pleasanter country , ancl Germany still more so . I spent a long time there , and thoroughly explored the beauties of the Rhine until I knew them by heart . Many a hard climb have I had in the Alps and Switzerland ; but I was always repaid for my exertion by the lovely

scenery , ancl never once disappointed . After this I visited the romantic ruins of Italy , Sicily , ancl Greece , and there I was more in my element than ever . I even penetrated as far as the great capital of Turkey , Constantinople . For two years after these travels I explored the antiquities of the Holy Land , and thought I should never have been able to leave it ; but fresh fields awaited meancl whilst I could still furnish plenty of " copy " . for the press

, , I desired to visit the wilds of Africa . There I many times risked my life , and it is ten thousand wonders I am here alive to tell my tale . Not content with these adventures I sought fresh ones in Arabia , Persia , Afghanistan , Beloochistan , and India . China , Japan , and the East Indies were next visited , where I caught the fever , and had another narrow escape of my life . This , however , did not hinder me , for I soon afterwards visited Australia , and stayed there

nearly a year . From there I sailed for San Francisco , and travelled through many of the United States , ancl downwards through Mexico ancl Central America . I next journeyed to the plantations in the West Indies , ancl spent a most enjoyable time there . After . this I traversed the grandeur of South America , from Brazil to Patagonia , ancl then returned to England b y Spain , France , and Belgium , whose scenery seemed perfectly paltry after seeing America .

I had now been away seven years from my native land , ancl had seemed to have lived another life all the time . On reaching my homely seat in Surrey , a rush of old recollections came over me , and reconciled me once more to home ; in fact , I had become rather tired of my rambling life , ancl I settled clown at the old place for three years . I had become strangely altered , and hardly any of my friends knew me at first . Those three years I wrote voluminous accounts of my travels and

investigations , ancl found plenty to employ me . I had scraped up a lot of information ( for I -was an energetic young chap then , as you may have guessed ) that was not generally known . My books were well received , and through them I obtained a few honourable titles . At the end of this time I again felt a desire to travel , being just thirty-three years old , as I at first stated . By my being a bachelor you must not imagine that I had never felt the

delight of love . I had been fondly , wildly in love with one of the sweetest of girls , who , however , died prematurely ; ancl ever since I had remained single . That was sixteen years ago ; now I am the father of a large family . As I said before , I had again a wish to travel ; and this time I intended to visit that most beautiful nook in all our island , romantic Derbyshire . I already knew most of its lore and antiquities , but , strange to say , had never crossed the borders of the fertile county ; so , in my usual impulsive manner , I set out at once .

First I proposed to make Buxton my head-quarters for a while—Buxton , so far-famed for its waters . Well , I had been there a week , and seen a good deal in the neighbourhood , and I expected to stay there about three days longer , and then go on to Matlock . It was Tuesday , and a bright , sunny day , when I made up my mind to visit the famous circle of stones named Arbor Low , about seven and a half miles from Buxton , near Parsley Hay . With my stick for a companionand my lunch in my pocketI sallied outand in two

, , , hours reach the spot . It is a bleak , desolate place , and the stones , laid down with such precision , remind one more of a cemetery than anything else . There is nothing very remarkable about them ; nothing to see ; all is left to the imagination , all record to conjecture .