ren. A strange dreariness marks the whole territory,—our village, on the contrary, is admired by all strangers for its singular beauty.”
“And yet,” observed the husband, “yon gloomy wood of firs, has something in it strangely melancholy. I know not why, but I never either pass by, or look upon it without feeling a secret dread. Look! how dismal it appears, and what a contrast it presents to the rest of the landscape.”
“In sooth it does, I should fancy it cannot be inhabited.”
“Aye, so should I, although of that I wot not very clearly, seeing that none of our village cares ever to approach the spot.”
“An it be the abode of aught, it cannot be of christian souls: perhaps it may be the residence”
“Hush! dame, hush!” interrupted Martin, I would not that we speak ill of the place. Or who knows but that we repent it?”
They had, by this time, reached the field; where we will leave them, while we examine more narrowly the subject of their discourse,
