The Cincinnati daily star. [volume] ([Cincinnati, Ohio]) 1875-1880, 1880-05-31
MRS. LANCASTER'S RIVAL.
N THE AUTHOR ORA FRENCH HERES
NHER OWN CHATEAU"
CHAPTER I.
ON THE BANKS OF THE MORA.

There ID broad river in the West,
which, from its source among the moors,
flows down between banks of dark gram
ite rock and chestnut wood, with a wide
curving bend now and then, where a
rushy meadow comes down and pushes
Itself into the stream, but keeping
throughout its steady, stately course to
the sea. Other rivers flow into it, and
at the salmon weir, where the rocks draw
near and hang over it, and the water
above the weir lies in dark, still, shad-
owy pools, that below rises and sfalls
with the tide, SO far inland does the salt
water make its way. But still for miles
the river flows down between varied
banks meadow and rock and wood, with
low gray cottages peeping out among the
green, and here and there great house
high above, Its long lawns and flights of
steps stretching to the river side. Then
the banks draw back, and the river
spreads broad and strong, with ripple
of small waves on its surface, even in the
summer weather, fit to carry great ships;
home for the fishing-boats that lie and
rock on its bosom, and for the light lit
tie pleasure steamers that pass up and
down day after day through more than
half the year.
And now the river takes the colors of
the sea; it is blue and green and gray as
the clouds pass over it, and has left all
Its brown behind; it goes on, itself part
of the sea, with currents strong enough
to turn the iron-clads round as they lie
there in harbor. One more river joins
It, almost as broad and beautiful, and
together they flow down past more
woods. past houses large and small, past
dock yards and town, past crowd oi
ships and boats, under black batteries
that seem strangely out of place on the
beautiful banks of the river and 80 on
full OF glory and usefulness, to their
home in the great, fresh, blue bay.
There are many rivers in England bet
ser known, but none better worth know
ing, than the Mora and her SISTER, the
Peryr; true rivers of the West, in their
grandeur, solemnity, and cheerfulness
The are valued highly enough at More
bay, where they flow together into thu
sea; but if you wish to know and love
tkem well, st. Denys is the place to learr
that lesson. r-f-'
1t is little stony town, on the oppo
Ete bank to Morebay, and three mile
inland, standing not far above the rock.
point where the Penyr flows into tn
Mora. From the quays on the rive
bank, always alive with fishermen ant
women and children, who are perhap
more at home on the water than on tn
land, labyrinth of narrow stone street
or lanes, some of them literally as stee1
as the roof of house, go climbing up tn
side of the hill. They look as if pusl
given to one of the topmost houses woul,
send them all tumbiing and crumblin,
tobether down into the water. They ar
all gray, with here and there red-tile'
roof; but, Of course. in that country,
hundred dashes of bright color are read
to delight the eyes and make one quit
sure that gray is the best background
Walls and roofs are gay with red an
yellow stonecrop; any bit of waysid
bank is draped with delicate fern; fror
the window of the most tumbledow
house garland of flowers ishanging ou
dropping and trailing over the rugge
wall. Fore street is itself as steep as an
street of them all, and has not muc
more regularity in its shops and houses
Some of the upper ones are modernized
and made as much as possible like thos
Mt Morebay or anywhere else; but othe,
have long, low, dim windows and ston'
arched doors, and it needs little resolI
tion to dive into their dark interiors
The long, wagon-roofed church, with il
suuare tower, stands off Fore street, in
sq uare of its own, with trees and gras
Up above this part Of the town thel
are one or two new-looking roads, wit
houses standing in their own gardens, a
perched crookedly about-for there
scarcely, perhaps, square yard of lew
ground in St. Denys. But here, frol
the brow of the hill, the views are mo-
beautiful, and Miss Northcote coul
never leave her own door, unless it w;
pouring down rain, without stoppin
TO look round and be thankful. But wit
some people-and l think one likes thel
best-familiarity breeds anything bt
contempt.
That june evening the Mora W,
cleaning blue, and the distant hous'
were pink and gold, and the soft dee
green of woods and fields seemed to max
the picture perfect. A little puff {
steam on the other side Of the river b
tween her and the soft hazy distance
the hills, told Miss Northcote that II
train was coming, and that sbe must 81
off at once for the station. For thel
was railway at st. Denys, winding int
it from Morebay, crossing the great ire
bridge and coming at once to the lit
station, passing above the roofs an
chimneys of great many Of the house
80 much older than itself. Thirty yea
ago the only way of crossing the riv'
had been by boats, and the oldest inha
itants were quite satisfied. Now the
had railway and chain ferry, and four
themselves none the better for it.
Miss Northcote walked along her oN
stony lane, and turned into the neare
road leading down to the station. o
General Hawke, Of Pensand Castle, dro'