Afoot in England

ree times a year. It all depended on our means; in very lean years there was but one outing. It was impossible to escape altogether from the immense unfriendly wilderness of Lo

any rejections to have one accepted and paid for with a cheque worth several pounds was a cause of astonishment, and was as truly a miracle as if the angel of the sun had compassionately thrown us down a handful of gold. And out of these little

stay, and walked the length of the street making inquiries, but were told by every person we spoke to that the only place we could stay at was the inn-the "White Hart." When we said we preferred to stay at a cottage they smiled a pitying smile.

h evening with dust and straws flying past and the level sun shining full on him. He was tall and slim, with a large round smooth face and big pale-blue innocent-looking eyes, and he walked rapidly but in a peculiar jerky yet shambling manner, swinging and tossing his legs and arms about. Moving along in this disjointed manner in his loose fluttering clothes he put one in mind of

their neighbours; whether those feelings were returned or not, it was not for him to say. And there was something else. A small appointment which would keep a man from want for the term of his natural life, without absorbing all his time, had become vacant in the village. Several of the young men in the place were anxious to have it; then he, too, came forward as a candidate, and

ood-bye, and went his way, blown, as

fs of red tiles mottled grey and yellow with age and lichen. It was a surprise to find a woodman-for that was what the man was-living in such a big place. The woodman himself, his appearance and character, gave us a second and greater surprise. He was a well-shaped man of medium height; although past middle life he looked young, and had no white thread in his raven-black hair and beard. His teeth were white and even, and his features as perfect as I have seen in any man. His eyes were pure dark blue, contrasting rather strangely with his pale olive skin and intense black hair. Only a woodman, but he might have come of one of the oldest and best families in

ion as in features and expression. His combined dignity and gentleness, and apparent unconsciousness of an

ed about sixteen persons, each family having its separate set of rooms, but all dining at one table. How did they do it? It seemed easy enough to them. They were serious people in a sense, although always cheerful and sometimes hilarious when together of an evening, or at their meals. But they regarded life as a serious matter, a state of probation; they were non-smokers, total abstainers, diligent at their work, united, profoundly religious. A fresh wonder came to light when I found tha

enter of some kind living in a village where there was no chapel; the services were for the family, but were also attended by

d, furthermore, received doles from the vicar and his well-to-do parishioners, yet they could not better their position, much less afford the good clothing, books, music, and other pleasant things which the independent woodman be

t they had sat up talking to a late hour. No-that was not it, she said; but someone had arrived late, a son who was sixteen years old, and who had been absent for some days on a visit to relations in another county. When they gathered round him to hear his news he confessed that while away he had learnt to smoke, and he now wished them to know that he had well considered the matter, and was convinced that it was not wrong nor harmful to smoke, and was determined not to give up his tobacco. They had talked to him-father, mother, brothers, and sisters-using every argument they could find or invent to move him, until it was day and time for the woodman to go to his woods, and the others to their several occupations. But their "all-night sitting" had b

solitude. It was a social habit, and it was inevitable that her boy should look for others to keep him company in smoking. There would be no harm in that in the summer-time when young people like to keep out of doors until bedtime; but during the long winter evenings he would have to look for his companions in the parlour of the public-house. And it would not be

ing more to say except to wis

ne hears from village women, come from those who are not themselves sufferers. Perhaps it

d spreading a clean cloth on the table, placed a jug of new milk, a loaf, and butter before me. For these good things she proudly refused to accept payment. As she was a handsome young woman, with a clear, pleasant voice, I was glad to have her sit there and talk to me while I refreshed mys

ell her that I had heard something of her strange history and misf

ld be offended. There is no one in this village who would take a shilling as a

exclaimed. "Perhaps you

ager made from fifty to eighty gallons, or more, and they drank beer every day, but very moderately, while it la

ic-houses, there were a good marry persons so poor that t

only were they better off, and independent of blanket societies and charity in all forms, but they were infi

ublic-house was opened in that village, and if the men took to spending their evenings in it, her husband with them, she would not endure such a co