Leaves from the Log of a Gentleman Gipsy in wayside camp and caravan, etc

Preface

. A glance at the " Contents " pages will give the reader a good notion of the range and scope of this work. The book is simply what its title indicates, the record or log of my life from day to day, while "on the road." I have written it with the view of popularising — if possible — the most healthful and fascinating of all modes of travel, namely, that by caravan. I had chosen as a sub-title the words, " A Book for the Green Lanes," but, although it is doubtless so, I live in hopes that the work may serve a useful purpose even in the long fore-nights of winter, and perhaps induce some reader or readers to become Wanderers like myself, " When spring returns And birds and lambs again are gay, And blossoms clothe the hawthorn spray." Spring, summer, and autumn are the seasons for enjoyment on the road.

But let me give the intending tourist just one hint : — winter is the time for preparation. A caravan takes months to build, and fit, and furnish. If the land yacht is not constructed with care and consideration inside and out, below and aloft ; if she is not indeed a perfect home upon wheels, and well horsed to boot, her owner will be deprived of much pleasure and comfort which he otherwise might have had. I think there is much to be said in favour of the plan of camp and caravan life combined, as fully described in Division III. of this book. I am writing these lines on August 24th, 1891, in my camp at Bognor, by the sea. Bognor is the quietest, cosiest, cleanest,

PREFACE.

. II dreamiest wee town on the south coast. I am all alone with my servant and Newfoundland dog. My camp consists simply of one tent and the caravan. My horses are sent away because I shall complete a six weeks' stay here : having done so, I hope to have a fortnight's delightful ramble homewards. But I cannot help saying that my holiday at Bognor has been one of the most refreshing and restful any man could enjoy. So convinced am I of the amount of health and pleasure derivable from a caravan and camping tour, that I have under consideration a scheme for the formation of a Gentlemen-Gipsy Club, to tour and camp in the loveliest parts of our own lovely land. I have only to add that most of the illustrations in this book are the work of Dewy- Bates ; two, namely, the scenes near my camping-ground at Deal, are by my friend, Alfred Hardy ; while the subjects, "A witched pot takes long to boil," and " My Wee Wanderers," are from photographs of my own children by Mr. Eales, of Reading. GORDON STABLES. Twyford, Berks. i r -7 6 33 CONTENTS. Division I. CRUISE TO THE NOR'ARD AND WEST

Chapter I

On road or on river — Just the life — Gipsy born — How the idea occurred — A beautiful Caravan — Determination to become a Nomad

Chapter II

The Interview — The construction of the " Wanderer" — Rate of speed — Polly Peablossom and Captain Cornflower- Hurricane Bob — " Will you walk up?" — Internal arrangements — Annual starting preparations — Merry music

Chapter III

Burnham Beeches — The village of Burnham — "Aren't you d — d — dead?" — "Dinner is quite ready, sir." — A quiet, happy, Sabbath — Town and country cousins — Maggie May — "I'll tell you whom you'll marry " ...

Chapter IV

To Knowl Hill — The Wanderer rocks — As free as the wind — Marlow — In a fix — Beaconsfield and Amersham — An adventure in a lane — " I'm a magistrate of the county, sir " — "Scotchmen never go back" — Lost in the woods — As deaf as a door-nail ... CONTENTS.

Chapter V

To Wendover — An enchanting spot — Winslow and Whitchurch— Maids' Moreton and Buckingham — Types of English beauty — Akaley — Whittlebury — A village of cottages — Towcester — Lazarus at the gate — Dunchurch The Wrothstone— A curious stone — The trail of the serpent — Pleasures of the road 43!

Chapter VI

An old-fashioned hostelry — "Isn't it pretty?" — How to enjoy life — Tyburn — Young Romany Ryes — Coleshill, Sutton- Coldfield, Birmingham — "Humpty, dumpty, sir" — The pillory — At Lichfield — Pillory and stocks — Burton-on-Trent — My guide 5o

Chapter VII

Derby all astir — Quiet Duffield — Away for Matlock — Pretty Peeps — Milford — On the winding Derwent — Belper cemetery — Scenery unrivalled — The tree-clad glen of Ambergate — A poet's nook — Cromford — The home of Florence Nightingale — Matlock and its beauties — Leave of absence ... 5S

Chapter VIII

Bakewell, en route for Buxton and Lancashire — Pleasurable uncertainty — A house in which a ghost might dwell — Refreshing stone wells — Chatsworth and Edensor — Peacock Inn at Rowsley — A pretty study — Haddon Hall — " No smoking allowed" — The Wye — A gloomy defile — The dangerous ascent to Taddington 65.

Chapter IX

In a mountain village — Hurricane Bob defends the breach — Ups and downs of gipsy life — Real gipsy folk — " More beautiful in a frying-pan" — In a living cloud — Buxton — New-town and Disley — " Just a leetle wee bit tipsy" — Not always smooth and sunny CONTENTS.

Chapter X

A change comes o'er the spirit of the scene — Roughing it — Denton— Quite out of place— Staleybridge— Nothing but kindness — "A twa-handed crack" — Man in uniform — An unsavoury pitch— Love's young dream — " I'm gan to paralyse thee " — An oasis in the desert Sr

Chapter XI

Mossley — Superstition — An exciting scene — The terrible hill — Inordinate hunger — On mount and moorland — "What be you, measter?" — Holmfirth — "Can we all come in for tuppence?" — A study in dust ... S9

Chapter XV

Nine days by the sea — The Brigg — " dulse " — Rtidstone — Kilham — A strange graveyard — In camp at Nafferton — ■ Driffield and Beverley — Water over the hedges — North Cave — Scroby — Back to bonnie Berks ... H4 Division II. GRAND CIRCULAR CRUISE.

Chapter XIX

Lazing by the sea — Sabbath calm — On the road to Bournemouth — More jubilees — Salisbury — " Now we'll have some stir" — "A gentleman's private Noah's ark and pair" — Old Sarum — Amesbury — Stonehenge

Chapter XXIII

Ross to Hereford — Our meadow mates — British camp — The Swedish Nightingale's nest — Malvern — Worcester — Alcester — The old-time village of Flyford Flavel — A sketch — Shakespeare's house — Willesbourne — Wasperton — Ryton — Dunchurch — Rugby — Northampton — Midland English life OUR 193 199 213 223 CONTENTS.

Chapter XXIV

Yardley Hastings and Denton — " Hichts and howes" — "We doesn't stable a 'orse once in a year, sir" — A look at a brook — Water babies — The bonnie wee town of Turvey — Drowned in a meadow pool — Bedford regatta— Great Barford— Old-fashioned St. Neots.— "'Eard wot those other gipsies got?" — The village of Ettisley— Cambridge from the hill-top Division III. CRUISE TO SOUTHARD AND EAST, AND SUMMER CAMP BY THE SEA.

Chapter XXV

My mind in a mist — Memories — A new idea — A search for a camping ground — A summer camp by the sea ...

Chapter XXVI

A talk about two towns — A Max O'Rellian Sketch — Sea-side characteristics — Great Eastern Watering-places — " Church Parade " — The blind minstrel and pretty Italians — " O my poor boy ! " — The organ-grinder in despair — Yarmouth ■ — Heather — The wild Sahara — Yarmouth out of season— " Monarch of all I surveyed" ...

Chapter XXVII

En route for our summer camp — Deal— The village blacksmith Attempt to wreck the caravan— Labour versus capital — " I'll put a bullet through your wrist, not your brains, because you haven't got any" — The camp— Dresky, our black girl, and our household — Natural history of " Stony Park"

Chapter XXXII

A beautiful death chamber — " David and Jonathan " — The Deal Hermit — " I can't bear to be crowded " — Correspondence with the Hermit — " Hadn't you better cave in" — A suggestion respecting street musicians

Chapter XXXIII

Wild adventure in the Sandhills — On the Hermit's track — ■ " Light fantastic toes " — The mystery of the old windmill — Queen's music — All in fear

Chapter XXXIV

The mystery ofthe old windmill (Part II.) — Coolness — The old Hermit — High life — Deal's folly — The Wanderer' s farewell — The "blue" Danube — Thanks — Ta-ta ... ... 280 Division IV. NOR'ARD AND EAST TO THE LAND OF THE BROADS.

Chapter XXXV

A new cruise begun — Bivouac in the Forest — "Is a caravan a house ? " — Romance of the past — " Relics of barbarism " — "Will your lordship drink?" — Reality of the present — A ruffianly gang — A prize fight — Forest Hill 331 345 356 CONTENTS.

Chapter XXXIX

A memorable battle — Lowestoft en gala — " O ! I'll take ye if ye means it " — Yarmouth at last — My impressions — Benefits of Yarmouth — That herring — G.E.R. — David Copperfield — Cromer

Chapter XL

Pictures of English hospitality — "Yer master won't be offended?" — A picnic — The caravan inspected — "Another mile yet, measter ! " — A mob 20,000 strong — More Scots The Globe Inn — An accident — The lovely village of Thorpe — At Norwich — Expected to " spout " — Something more than a " Highland welcome" — Away

Chapter XLI

Snug village of Hockering — A very bad boy — " Fat legs " — Swaffham— A narrow escape — Rain — Lost — "Pointing to Lynn" — Land at Lynn — The "belles" — Downham — A reverie 3S2 390 399 413 CONTENTS.

Chapter XLII

Dutch-like drowsy villages — Children at play — Littleport — Streatham — Ely — " Poor Trust is dead " — Fortune telling — Cambridge — Sawston — Queer adventures — Something wrong — Rose and Jess — Haba-ba-ba-ba-ba-k-kuk — A tribute to genius — Wheelwrights

Chapter XLIII

A clever old fellow — Quentin — Ugley — Stanstead — Hockerill — Sawbridgeworth or Sa'orth — Thirsty souls — Village politicians — Harlow — The Forest again — A friendly London mob — Return to Twyford

Chapter XLIV

Cows as meadow-mates — A cow's reverie — John gets thirsty — A cow-quake — " M-m-m m-mow-oh-ah ! "

Chapter XLV

A wanderei's meditations among the tombs — My boyhood — Musty churches — Drunken D n — An " ower true tale" — Stuck fast in the church tower — " Man of Ross " — Topers take warning — Headstones — Epitaphs ...

Chapter XLVI

The humours of the road and the pitches I have been in — Commons — Hobbling horses — An inn yard — On the roof — Wells' fiddling — A scene in a smithy — "Sweet sixteen" — A model piggery — At Dunbar— Haddington — Stabling on the second floor — Grampian Hills — Blunsden — Old Sarum — Stonehouse — "The bear! the bear ! " — Ledbury market square — " Good-bye all" LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. PAGE. Gordon Stables, MM.D., CM., R.N. ... Frontispiece. Ready for the Road ... ... ... ... 12 The Last Touch of Varnish ... ... 15 On the Grampian Hills ... ... ... 19 A Peep at the Saloon ... ... ... 22 "A Witched Pot Takes Long to Boil'' ... ... 28 "Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Sailor" ... ... 30 Mr. Wells, my Violinist and Valet ... .. 36 Lazarus at the Gate ... ... ... 46 Young Romany Ryes ... ... ... ... 54 A Poet's Nook ... ... ... 63 Peacock Inn, Rowsley ... ... ... 67 Haddon Hall, from the Wye ... ... 68 Haddon Hall — The Terrace ... ... ... 69 Hurricane Bob Defends the Breach 74 Arranging to Fight ... ... ... ... 87 "Can We all Come in for Tuppence?" ... 95 "Buy my Woses " ... ... ••• ■•■ "°2 A Musical Evening ... ... ...

LIST OF LLLUSTRATIONS. PAGE. Wee Wanderers ... ... ... ••■ I22 The Trees are Full of Crimson Buds ... 125 Cosy Cottages of Quaintest Form ... ■ ■• 135 Dry Humour ... ... ... ... 145 "Here's off," cried Cornflower ... ••• 15° Talking about Jeffries ... ... ... 159 "Only Ninety, Sir, to You" ... ■ ... •■• 161 Hurricane Bob and I ... . ... - 168 In a Breezy Land .. ... ... ... 177 Almost Hidden by Trees .,. ... 1S3 A Camp by the Sea ... .. ... ... 192 In Tree-Lined Meadows ... ... 195 Yarmouth out of Season ... ... ... 209 A Gipsy Gang we Met in Sussex ... 214 "Stand Off!" ... ... ... 216 Catering for the Camp ... ... ... 228 On the Beach at Deal... ... ... ... 232 Anchoring Against a Storm ... ... 236 A Forenoon's Washing ... ... ... ... 239 Our Coast-Guardsman ... ... ... 249 On the Sand Hills ... ... ... ... 252 Upper Deal Church ... 254 Dresky and Her Pets ... ... ... .. 260 The Hermit in the Old Windmill ... ... 2S1 A Morning Salute ... ... .. ... 292 "Tool on After Him, Harman" ... ... 315 Southwold Church ... ... ... ... 325 Ruins of Bishop's Palace, Dunwich ... ... 32S LLST OF LL LUSTRA TLONS.

PAGE. "O! I'll Take Ye if Ye Means it" .. ... 334 "Ye'r Master won't be Offended?" ... 346 Lynn ... ... ... ... ... ... 363 Burning Weeds ... ... ... 370 Thirsty Souls ... ... ... ... ■■• 384 A Wayside Inn ... ... ... ... 393 Wells' Fiddling ... ... ... ■•• 4lS Shyly Tended by Sweet Sixteen ... DIVISION I. CRUISE TO THE NOR'ARD & WEST. Ir[ TS^ayside Gamp and Garavaij.

Chapter I. On Road Or On River

" The stock-dove there in the beechen tree, And the lulling tone of the honey bee ; And the voice of cool waters 'midst feathery fern, Shedding sweet sounds from some hidden urn." T'S just the life / should like to lead in summer." This is a remark I have heard made over and over again by visitors to my caravan. Indeed, I hardly ever met anyone who would not delight in being a nomad for at least a few weeks LN WAYSIDE CAMP AND CARAVAN. 12 during each summer ; to shoulder a knapsack, grasp an ash or an oaken stick and wander away anywhere, anywhere out of the world of brow-binding conven tionality. Pleasant, indeed, is it to leave for a time the din and bustle of cities far behind, the city's cares and the city's sorrows, and to find one's self in the cool green country among woods and hills, among forest ferns and flowers, listening perhaps to the half hysterical joy-notes of a rising lark, the contented fluting of the blackbird in thicket of spruce, or the loud mocking carol of the thrush, hidden in the drooping lime-tree.

To feel at home with all Nature, companion of every bird that flits or flies, and every winged thing* that floats in the soft summer sunshine ', companion of every wildling flower that springs ; to hear voices in the murmuring winds, soft whisperings in the stirring leaves, music in the rippling brooks! At noon, perhaps, to lie in listless shade by some river that goes dreaming seawards, reflecting fleecy clouds and rifts of himmel-blue, reflecting the bending greenery of trees, and the nodding reeds, and the velvet grass of the banks starred with ox-eye daisies, ablaze with the crimson silenes, or golden with the glory of the buttercup. Towards evening, perhaps, when delightfully tired or drowsy, to come upon some wee wayside inn, its red-brick gables half buried in roses, half hidden in foliage.

To find a homely welcome from bright faced landlady or good-natured landlord, to eat a humble repast, with an appetite born of the pure air one has been breathing all the day in bird-land, and ready for the road, ON THE RLVER. 13 to find oneself soon after in a coaxy cosy little bed room, with roses red and white nodding in at the open window, the nightingale's notes to lull one to sleep, and early-morning country sounds to wake one from the sweetest of healthful slumber. Verily, verily, it is pleasant to be on the road even if one has no other companions save a faithful dog and a trusty stick. It is pleasant to be on the river, too, in the sweet summer-time, whether in canoe or in house-boat. But one gets tired of the lazy stream at last, and is it not a fact that on the river even, you are not quite free from the trammels of society?

You never know whom you may meet, or how soon you may have to resume your city face and smile and your company manners. Your boat, too, is always on the same dead level ; pretty are the reaches thereof, no doubt, lovely the little peeps of cosy villages nestling by the water side, sweet the notes of the wild birds that seem to be singing but to you, and charming the cloud-lands of trees that bend to kiss the stream. Yet, ah me ! at night there are often blighting dews and fogs, and on these float dark-winged dyspepsia and racking rheumatism. It is far more pleasant to be on the road in your own house-on-wheels. No rheumatism comes near you here ; dyspepsia does not know you. You breathe the purest air of heaven by day and also by night. You can eat the plainest food with the relish of hungry health.

Care and worry are buried for a season. The scenery is ever-varying, ever strange and beautiful, each turn in the road brings you to B something new, something worth looking at, or smiling at. All things are of interest to you, and you yourself are an object of interest to thousands. Perhaps there was a little of the gipsy born in me, else I should not be so enthusiastic on the subject of caravan life. I do not mean the blood of the Romany Rye. No, I am Scotch throughout, but I am descended from a race of rovers, and have myself been here and there in many lands, and from pole to pole. The life of a literary man in the present day is none of the easiest. No wonder he delights to rove and ramble at times. The idea of building a caravan and living on the road as a gentleman-gipsy occurred to me one day as I was leaning over the four-barred gate that opens on the lane leading to my woodland study — a wildery of a place where I go to work when the weather is fine.

It was a lovely but somewhat sultry day in August, the birds had mostly finished their summer love-making and nest-building, and ceased to sing, except the twittering martins, and the wee modest yellow-hammer. I had dropped into a kind of drowsy reverie, when the sound of heavy wheels fell on my ears, and gazing away down the yellow-gravel road that leads past my pine wood, I could see a beautiful caravan coming onwards towards me ; I had often seen such carriages before without being particularly impressed THE LAST TOUCH OF VARNLSH. 15 by them, but there was an air of comfort and of home about this one that went straight to my heart. It was a caravan of old-fashioned shape after all, painted a bright yellow, the wheels picked out with vermillion, for gipsies have ever an eye for the brightest of colours.

A well-fed gentle-paced white horse was in the shafts, his harness beautifully clean, the leather work like jet, the brass — of which there THE LAST TOUCH OF VARNISH. was abundance — shimmering in the sunlight like burnished gold. The driver, neatly dressed and happy-looking, walked as if to ease the horse, who was evidently a pet ; as he walked he sang. There was a little chimney in the roof, from which blue smoke came curling up ; the windows were adorned with crimson and lace blinds and prettily looped curtains. Inside I could just catch a glimpse of the caravan mistress, neat and tidy as the caravan itself, engaged in some culinary operation. Two bright-faced pretty children leaned over the lower half of the front doorway. And that was all in the picture. I went away back to my woodland study, and seated myself beneath the great oak tree that has sheltered me, while at work, from many a shower.

But somehow, the story I was writing had lost its charms. I could think of nothing but that caravan. And so I closed my portfolio, and threw myself into my grass hammock, which hung handy, and began to think, and dream, and plan. The result of this thinking, dreaming, and planning, was the saloon-caravan, Wanderer, in which I now sit writing these lines. For six springs, summers, and autumns, I have been a nomad, and if my adventures are never very wild nor stirring, they may be found interesting nevertheless, to lovers of the country, of Nature, of nooks and waters, and wild flowers. The book is nothing more than its title indicates. If it be perused with pleasure while the reader is strolling through green lanes in summer, by the quiet inland lakes, by the sea, or wherever wild birds sino-, or wild flowers spring, I shall not have written it in vain.

Chapter II The Interview

" He journeyed on like errant-knight the while, — And sweetly the summer sun did smile On mountain, moss, and moor." Scene. — The " Wanderer" encamped in the corner of a cosy meadow, on the evening of a still, bright day in June. Hardly a cloud in the sky, scarcely a breath of wind, only fust enough to rustle or whisper through the leaves of the giant elms that surround our bivouac. Glimpses of the country beyond, hills and woods, and a silver ribbon of a river meandering down the glen. The reader is supposed to be paying a visit to the caravan, and to interview her captain. " ' May I have a look at the caravan ? ' did you say ? With all the pleasure in the world. My valet has just run round to the farm for the milk. He will be back presently, and will let down the steps, so that you can walk inside.

Meanwhile a glance at the exterior may interest you. Glad to hear you say that you have often heard speak of the Wanderer. " You will notice that she is a very long caravan, and of a good width ; built of solid mahogany with gilt facings outside, and internally lined with maple. She is therefore double, with an air space of about two inches between her walls. Yes, this is an advantage ; it keeps the carriage cooler in summer and warmer in winter, and it also deadens external sounds. " Very nearly twenty feet long from coupe or verandah to the rear or stern. Well, it seems a heavy pull for two horses, but mine are powerful and willing. When they come to the foot of a hill, however high, they have sense enough to know there is a top to it somewhere up in the sky, and to that top they go. I have had the same honest, kindly horses for three years, and they have never once been sick nor sorry.

One thousand miles and over they dragged us last year, and thirteen hundred miles the year before, crossing the wild Grampian range of mountains, through many a dangerous pass, and over many a rugged spot. " My rate of speed ? Well, I think I do not do badly if I cover fifteen miles a day, or from that to twenty ; but if I come to a quiet, delightful meadow like this, even at one twelfth mile, I should unlimber and stay for the night. As to speed, we canter or trot along good level roads, we walk down long hills, and up long hills, but steep, short pitches must be rushed at a gallop. " You see the roller that hangs there ? That is dragged behind the near wheel on long hills, so that if we have to stop to breathe the horses, the caravan rests on that ; otherwise, its weight would drag the animals backwards, and an accident would be in evitable.

" You see also the iron skid or shoe, and the loop of saiety chain. Both are put on to lock our wheel ON THE GRAMPIAN HILLS. 19 before we commence the descent of a 'terrible hill.' Quite right, the skid alone locks the wheel, but over bumpy roads the wheel is liable to be thrown out of the skid ; then, if it were not for the safety chain, the caravan would shoot forward over the horses, who might fall with broken necks. ON THE GRAMPIAN HILLS, " I consider twenty-five miles a long journey, but I've often had to do it — belated too, and in forest or moorland. When this happens, the poorest roadside inn seems a veritable palace when we reach it at last." LN WAYSLDE CAMP AND CARAVAN. 20 " In a case of this kind, would it not be well to bivouac by the roadside, hobble the horses or turn them loose ?

" " Not unless the necessity were very great indeed. The horses are our moving power, and we cannot be too good to them. If you were to go down yonder to the stables now, you would find my coach man, Bond, with his working clothes on, washing them from stem to stern. After their bath, they will be carefully fed on oats and chaff, and the bed of straw on which they will rest is at least a good foot thick." "A merciful man is merciful to his beast." " True enough, but no man could help liking my two horses. Polly Pea-blossom, by the way, is a mare, and I feel sure she is quite fond of Captain Cornflower, for although she will bite or kick him at every chance in the stable, nevertheless, if he is taken away at any time — to get new shoes, for instance, Polly whines and cries, and is quite incon solable.

Just like the sex ? Perhaps ; there is a good deal of human nature, or something akin tu it, even in a horse. "'The dog?' That is the champion Newfound land, who is known by the name of Hurricane Bob. Pure black, you see, and straight-coated, with an immensity of bone and substance, and a wealth of raven hair. His original name was Robin, and the sobriquet 'Hurricane' got prefixed to the simple Bob, from a habit he had, when younger, of dashing in a wide circle round and round the paddock, like a hairy hurricane. Nothing could you distinguish while HURRLCANE BOB. 21 Bob was making these circular tours, except a morsel of misty darkness, with two points of glancing light in it — his eyes — and a row of flashing teeth, for Bob would be laughing while he ran. He is the most faithful friend I ever had."

" Does Plurricane Bob sleep under the caravan all night ? " " Oh, no. Walk round to the front. You notice that the roof projects over the coupe, protecting the driver and all who sit or lie thereon. Well, an im mense sheet of canvas is hung at night over the whole verandah. This gives me a small extra room, and forms Robert's bedroom, while I convert it into a bath-room in the morning. No, not a large, cumber some bath — we begrudge every pound of extra weight — only a bucket of water and a huge sponge. There are several holes in the deck of the coupe, to enable the spilt water to run out. " That is the driver's seat there, and it is also our corn-box ; for we are obliged to carry oats, as we go into strange, outlandish places at times. " There are drawers behind, you may notice, under the caravan, and also under the coupe.

These are for brushes, tools, and odds and ends. Beneath, also, hang buckets, a meat-safe, an oil can, a ladder, and a spade, without which accessories we could not take the road. " Yes, the break is a very powerful one, and is worked from the front, after the plan of that in tram way cars. " On the roof up there, beds and bedding are kept, and the coachman's boxes. They are out of sight, IN WAYSIDE CAMP AND CARAVAN. 22 and out of the way, and out of the wet as well, being covered by Willesden canvas. " My valet sleeps in the after-cabin of the caravan. The coachman finds his bed at the inn where the horses are put up. " When any of my family are on board, the valet also sleeps on shore, and we have all the space to ourselves. " We purchase farm produce by the way, and you would be astonished if you knew how little we pay.

While in villages, people nearly always bring us gifts of fresh vegetables, flowers, and eggs. What a deal of genuine hospitality and kindness exists in the heart of the ordinary Briton ! It has only to be tapped, and out it flows. "Will you walk up? You first find yourself in the after-cabin, which opens on to the main saloon by means of folding-doors and curtains. This after cabin is also the pantry and kitchen. Here are racks for plates, dishes, cups, saucers, glasses, &c. Above are enclosed shelves ; by this is the filter. Even the dog gets filtered water. These rows of neat, white, scarlet-braided pockets contain the towels, clean dusters, &c. At this side is the valet's little folding table, his box, which forms a seat, and my marble lavatory, with pretty little oak-painted water tank and tap above it.