Pollopel's has long been considered as a haunted spot, especially infested by the evil s])irits that in time of storm fly with the storm through the Highlands. In this particular it resembles the Duyvel's Dans Kamer. Crtiger's Island, on the contrary, enjoys the distinction of never having been visited by death, even down to the present day. Above the Highlands, on the western shore of the river, the northern slope of vStorm King declines into a bluff that is broken by numerous ravines, each at some time the bed of a watercourse. It is here that the village of Cornwall, with its many literary associations, pursues the quiet and orderly tenor of life. It w^as a secluded and almost unknown hamlet till it secured for the trumpeter of its delights a poet and a nature lover. At Idlewild, now part of Cornwall, the poet settled down to a life of busy idleness. He had been driven back to Eden, to borrow Mr. Roe's phrase, and he proposed to make the most of it. He superintended the laying-out of paths, the building of roads and dams; he cultivated the acquaintance of trees and wild flowers, protected the birds, and evinced a kindly fellowship for the frogs. To many of those who have read Willis's work, no part of it seems more satisfactory than the chatty, personal chronicle of nature happenings, the unforced record of his surroundings, as they appeared in the old Home Jotirual. It is difficult to estimate our indebtedness to him for his