Field paths and green lanes : being country walks, chiefly in Surrey and Sussex

Front matter

THE LIBRARY

OF

THE UNIVERSITY

Chapter I. Winchelsea And Rye

PAGE

Old "Spithccad and Portsmouth." — A wondrous "Sea Change." — St. Thomas's Church. — Old and New. — The Friars. — History of Winchelsea by a Native. — The Road to Camber Castle and Rye. — Sheep Farming. — A City of the Past.— Rye Church. — The Reflections of a Sexton. — The Butcher and the Lamb. — The "Mermaid." — Peacock's. — The Plague. — Where is the " Mermaid ? "—The Dutch Tiles and Lone Widow.— A Field Walk to Hastings.— The Hermit of the Beaoh ... 1

Chapter II. Round About Hastings

Sunshine and Storms. — A Dark New Year's Day. — The Fishermen of Hastings. — Getting under Weigh. — To Fairlight by the Beach. — The Churchyard. — The Sexton's Story. — Bexhill. — Modern Protestantism. — The Two Bricklayers. — Hove and Catsfield . 19

Chapter III. Two Old Churches

Crowhurst and Etchingham. — Tlie Road to Crowhurst. — -The Wild Flowers of Winter. — Modern Houses and Old Ruins. — The famous Yew Tree. — Californian Trees. — Yews in Churchyards. — Etchingham and its Church. — The Village Graves. — Spring Time in Sussex.— A Specimen of "Old Sussex." — "Americanisms."— Burwash, or " Burghersh." — The Parish Clerk and his Ancestors. — The Iron Slab. — A Request for Information. — The Use of a Wife.— A Walk to Robertsbridge . . .36

Contents.

Chapter IV. Three Castles -pevensey, Hurstmonceux, And Bodiam

PAGE

"Anclerida»" — Old Churches made New. — The Road across the Marsh. — "Nairn about Flowers." — The Castle and Church at Hurstraonceux. — Extinct Yeomanry Families. — Two Barns, one Old and one New. — Gardner Street. — Tipsy England. — Ilailsham. — A Relic of the Van-Cortlandts.— The Road to Rodiam. — Salehunst and its Church. — A Morning Rouquet. — The Fair Warden of Bodiam . . . . .... 51

Chapter V. Mayfield

Ancient Sussex. —The Home of Legend and Fahlc. — St. Dunstan's Fight with the Evil One.— The Sacred Tongs.— A Field Path to Mayfield.— The Black.smith's Forge.— An Old-Fadiioned Inn.— Mayfield Church.— Iron Slabs of Sussex Work.— The Restorer again.— The Protestant Martyrs. — The Roman Catholic "Revival." — Mayfield Palace. — The Chapel and Relics. — The Old Houses of Mayfield.— Rotherficld and the Way Back . 64

Chapter VI. Alfriston And Wilmington

Echoes of War.— The Nightingale.—" Happy England."— The South Downs. — Alfriston and the "Star" Inn. — Another "Restoration."— An Ancient Vicarage. — -Content in a Cottage. — Wanted, a Minister. — The Lone Man of Wilmington. — The Prioijand Church. — An Old Grave and a New Tenant. — A line from the "Short and Simple Annals of the Poor."— The South Downs beyond Wilmington. — Where to find Cowslixis . . 73

Chapter VII. In The South Dow^ns

From Pulborough to Storrington. — The Mysterious Stranger. — Parham Park.— A Country Inn.— The " Workus."— From

Contents. xi

Storrington to the Devil's Dyke. — The Phantoms of the Downs. — Washington. — Chanctonburj' Ring. — Wiston House. — Steyning and Bramber. — The Bird- stuff er. — Sickle versus Steam. — South Down Sheep and Grass ...... 86

CHAPTER Vin.

HAYWARDS HEATH TO EAST GRINSTEAD.

Another "Country Inn." — An Uncomfortable Night.— The Rich Man from London. — Cuckfield. — A Vision at the King's Head. — The Haunted House. — Lindfield and its Church. — Pax Hill. — Horsted Keynes. — Arcadian Shepherds Carousing. — Broadhurst. — East Grinstead. — The "Players." — Tiie "Last Performance ".......... 101

Chapter IX. From Petworth To Midhurst

The House at Petworth. — Some Faces to be remembered. — The Park of the Percies. — Cottages in the "Weald." — Lodsworth Church, Past and Present. — An important Citizen of Lodsworth.— An old Farm. — The Chestnut Gatherers. — Cowdray Park and Ruins. — A Page of Family Romance. — Midhurst . 113

Chapter X. From Midhurst To Haslemere And Godalming

The Road to Haslemere. — A Town half-spoiled. — "Mine Ease in Mine Inn." — Blackdown. — A Poet's Home. — The " Old Gentleman," — Over Hindhead. — Gibbet Hill and the Murdered Sailor. — The Devil's Punch Bowl. — Only a "Turnpike Road." — The "Green Lanes" of England. — Thursley Church and Common. — Last Stage to Godalming . . . , .126

Chapter XI. Dorking And Its Neighbourhood

A Good Old Surrey Town. — The "Marquis of Granby " and old Weller.— The Dorking of To-day and a Hundred Years Ago. — xii Contents.

Dorking Fowls. — The Scenei^ in the vicinity. — " Mag's Well." — A Quiet lload up Box Hill. — Brockham and Bctchwoi-th. — The Holm wood. — Walton Heath. — The Mickleham Downs.— Pi.xholm and Milton Lanes. — Ranmore Common and Church. — Over the Common by Moonlight. — Pickett's Hole. — Wotton Church. — " Land Hunger." — Bury Hill and the " Nower " . Vol

Chapter XII. To Leitii Hill By Avotton

Two Hundred Miles of Old England.— The Road to take.— A Colony of Sand ]\Iartins. — The " Rookery." — Wotton and John Evelyn. — The Healing Virtues of Trees. — How to "Corroborate" the Stomach and make " Hair spring on Bald Heads." — A Carefully Guarded House. — Friday Street. — The Old Sawyer. — " Age is Unnecessary." — Through the Pines to Leith Hill. — An Excursion for a Londoner. — Abinger Hatch. — The "British Grumbler."— Farming in Colorado ...... 157

Chapter XIII. From Dorking To Leatherhead

A Roundabout Journey. — Over the Hills to Ranmore. — Tlie Twin Trees. — Lost in the Woods. — Polesden. — Box Hill in a New Aspect. — High Barn.— Sentenced to Death. — The "Grand Emporium " of Effingham. — A Much Restored Church. — Little Bookham. — The Church and the old Yew. — Acro.ss the Fields to Great Bookham. — The Crown Inn. — Great Bookham Church and its Monuments. —On the Old Portsmouth Road. — Leatherhead 171

Chapter XIV. To Guildford Over The Hills

The Merits and Defects of this Walk. — A Long Green Lane. — The Beech Wood. — A Hard Road to find. — Misleading Finger Posts, — A Lonely Path. — Due West through a Wood. — Newland's Corner. — St. Martha's Chapel. — The Last Difficulty. — Guildfoid. — Queer Guests at the Angel . . . . . .184

Contents. xiii

Chapter XV. From Caterham To Godstone

PAGE

A Country of Hill and Vale.— More "Land-Grabbers." — A Cluster of Villages.— Warlingbam and Tatsfield.— Cross Country to Titsey. — The Poor Church and its Rich Brother. — The ' ' Bull " at Limpsfield. — A Native Critic of Manners and Customs. — Emigration. — "Everybody well off' Abroad." — A Little Adventure in a Church.— TandriJge Church. — The old Yew.— A Station Two Miles from Anywhere. — A Dull End to a Day's Joiirney . . 196

Chapter XVI. Norbury Park, Albury, And The Deepdene

Three Ancient Estates.— The Park at Norbury. — A Bargain in 1719. — Tlie Druids' Grove, and how to find it. — A Plague of Rabbits. —The Yew Grove. — A Giant Beech. — Butterflies at Midnight. — A Desolate Region.— Albury Park.— The " Catholic Apostolic Church."— Mr. Drummond's " Cathedi-aL "—Apostolic "Precepts."—The Gardens at Albury.— The finest Yew Hedge in England. — Through Shere to GomshalL— The Deepdene and its Glories. — The House and its Art Treasures. — A Retreat for a Scholar. — The Dene and the Beech Avenue. — Chart Park and its Trees . . . . . " . . . . , 209

CHAPTER XVn.

REIGATE, GATTON PARK, AND THE PILGRIM'S WAl^

Some Points of Difference between Reigate and Dor-king. — Drainage and Comfort. — Reigate Park. — Gatton and the "Marble Hall." — The Two Members of Parliament. — Merstham. — On the Track of the Canterbury Pilgrims.— A Scramble among the Yew Trees. — Walton Heath.— The Yews near Box Hill . . . 225

CHAPTER XVin.

REDHILL TO CROWHURST.

A Tangle of Railroads.— Nutfield and its old Posting Inn. — An awful Warning to Bachelors. — Bletchingley. — A Queer Story of a Brass. —The "Vile Rotten Borough."— Godstone and its Green. — Deep in the Clay.— The Yew Tree of Sun-ey.- Tlie " floated Grange." — The Road to Godstone Station . , 236 xiv Contents,

CHAPTER XIX.

EWHURST, ALBUllY, AND CIIILWORTII.

FAOE

The Wild Commons and Heaths of Surrey. — A Word of Warning. — Sutton, Felday, Joldwyns. — The " Lucky " Lcveson-Gowcrs. — Holmbury Hill. — The Water Carrier. — A Stonebreaker's Recollections.— How Mr. Hull was lluried. — Old Roads and New. — Ewhurst Cliurch and its Critic. — An Knglish Sleeiiy-Hollow. — Moorland and Solitary Roads. — Alljury and Chil worth. — Cobbett's Curse 218

CHAPTER XX.

FROM EDENBRIDGE TO PENSHURST.

A Preliminary Caution. — Edenbridge and Hever. — The Castle and Church. — Chiddingstone and its Timber Cottages. — The Road to Penshurst. — A Bid for Cottage Furniture.— Penshurst Church. — The Harvest Thanksgiving. — Parson DarkenoU. — Pen.shurst Place. — Lord de L'Isle's Work of Restoration. — The Baron's Hall. — Family Portraits. — The Broken Mandolin. — The Library. — A Stroll in the Great Park. — Sidney's Oak. — The Old Beeches and Yew 261

CHAPTER XXI.

THE WYE FROM ROSS TO CHEPSTOW-

The "Lion" of Ross. — The Wye. — Goodrich Castle. — Gilpin's "Analysis" of the Wye. — From Goodrich to Monmouth. — The " Kj-min " and Buckstone. — The Bachelor of Stanton. — A Returned Indian. — The Railroad. — From Monmouth to Chepstow. — Encroachments on Tintcrn. — The Wyndclifl'e. — What is Good for Rheumatism ? — Our Beautiful Inns .... 277

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.

FROM SKETCHES BY J. W. WHY.MPER, AND PH0T0GRAPU8.

AMONO THE CHALK DOAVNS — ST. MAKTHA's CHAPEL, FKOM

PAGE AX OLD ENGLISH FEUDAL CASTLE — HURSTMONCEUX . . . 55

A TUDOR ENGLISH MANSION — RUINS OF COWDRAY — MIDHUR8T . 122

THE OLD rORTSMOUTH ROAD — HINDHEAD, BORDERS OF HANTj

AND SURREY 133

ENGLISH PARK SCENE — BETCHWORTH, SURREY . . . .144

AN ENGLISH COUNTRY INN — "TIIE "VVIUTE HORSE," DORKING . 140

AN ENGLISH COUNTRY CHURCH — AVOTTON, SURREY . . . 155

ENGLISH RIVER SCENE— THE RIVEU WYE, FROM SYMOND's YAT 278

FIELD PATHS AND CtEEEN LANES.

CHAPTER I. WmCHELSEA AND EYE

Old "Spithead and Portsmouth."— A Wondrous "Sea Change."— St. Thomas's Church. — Old and New. — The Friars. — History of Winchelsea, by a Native.— The Koad to Camber Castle and Eye.— Sheep Farming.— A City of the Past. — Eye Church.- The Eeflections of a Sexton. — The Butcher and the Lamb. — The "Mermaid."— Peacock's.— The Plague. —Where is the " Mermaid ? "—The Dutch Tiles and Lone AVidow.— A Field Walk to Hastings. — The Hermit of the Beach.

There are two hills facing each other in the southeastern corner of Sussex, with three miles of marsh land between them. On the one stands Winchelsea, on the other, Eye. Both have been maritime towns of great importance, the " Spithead and Portsmouth of their day," as someone has said ; but when the sea deserts a maritime town, and sulkily withdraws to a distance of two or three miles, what is to become of it 1 Six hundred years ago Winchelsea could boast of a very large commerce, but at that time it stood three miles away from the present town, which is comparatively modern, although it was founded in the

2 Field Paths and Great Lanes. ch. i.

time of Edward the First. Doubly fatal has old ocean been to AViuchelsea, completely destroying the first town by its untimely encroachments, and then ruining the new one by its equally untimely retreat. But besides the raging of the sea, the inhabitants of these parts were constantly harried by the French, who came upon them at all sorts of unexpected times, slaughtering their men, plundering them of their provisions, and, what was much worse than all, carrying off their " beautiful women," So quiet and deserted is the place now that it is difficult to imagine it the scene of wild excitement and daring deeds. The old church and the court-hall, the gates, the ruins of the Lady Chapel in the " Friars," a few old houses here and there, are all that remain to remind the visitor of the glories of Winchelsea. The great John Wesley well called it a "poor skeleton." One feels, indeed, on entering it almost as if one were wandering about in another age amid the ruins of another world.

All that is now to be seen of the old church of St. Thomas is the chancel, but that is spacious and beautiful, far finer even as a fragment than many a complete cliurch which is run up at contract price in the present days. Some of the monuments are magnificent, and contrast strangely with the modern slabs, mere dabs of mai'ble, which have been stuck upon the walls. The old Alards under the exquisitely carved canopies must wonder what race of men have now got hold of England, and why they commemorate each other with flat pieces of stone carved into uncouth

CH. I.

VVinchelsea and Rye.

shapes ? The ivy grows through the roof here and there, and time has levelled nave and aisles to the dust. Yet enough still stands to shew what a grand old chui-ch it must have been when the mothers and daughters of the town went to bed in fear and trembling lest their enemies, the French, should be at the gates.

The " Friars " stands a little way back from the roadside, and the ruins (which the stranger maj? see any Monda}^) are in the garden — a very pretty garden, with fine large ash-trees in it, and good sycamores, and a Portugal laurel which must be thirty feet in height. A monastery once stood here, and the shell of the choir of the chapel dedicated to the Virgin Mary still lies embosomed among the trees. On my way from this pleasant spot to the Strand gate, I learned the history of Winchelsea from an old man with whom I had a long talk. " When this town was in its prosperity," he said, " the sea used to wash right up to this 'ere precipice, and there was once a town over theer (pointing to the eastward), but the sea came and took it away. History do tell as a high tide came up upon the liehinoh (equinox), and what could stand against that ? Now sir, supposin' as another high tide came in upon the hekinok, the sea might take its own land again, and mebbe our harbour could be used. Fairlight cliff acts as a breakwater to us, but the sea is washing it away very fast. It costes a good sight of money to keep the sea off these lands now, and I have heern say that the House of Commons wants to let the sea take back its lands

4 Field Paths and Green Lanes. ch. i.

rather than pay so much to keep her out." Doubtless this old man is still standing by the roadside, waiting patiently for the sea to come back to Winchelsea.

You pass beneath the Strand gate, near which Edward the First nearly lost his life through his horse shying at a windmill, and pursue the road to the right, from which presently a fine view is to be had of the old town, and of Fairlight downs and church far beyond. This road to tlie right, not ci'ossing the bridge, is the only way to get to Camber Castle — one of the castles which Henry the Eighth built to defend the coast. " There is but little of interest now," sa3^s a local historian, " in these crumbling remains," and yet, being here, one is reluctant to pass them by unvisited. It is necessary to keep much to the right, and pass an old farm before striking off towards the grey and frowning old mass of masonry, for the " waterings " are wide and numerous, and it is very easy to lose a good deal of time and trouble on these marshes. The old men in 1024 remembered the time when " 400 tall ships of all nations " had been seen anchored in the Camber, " where now sheep and cattle feed." Countless sheep were grazing when I was there, and it was the lambing season, and some of the new-comers into the world looked misei'able enough, shivering under a bleak east wind. A hundred or more had crept under the lee of the old castle, and a dead sheep lay not far off. Sometimes as many as ten dead a day are found by the " lookers " on these wide marshes.

Winchelsea and Rye.

All in ruins as the castle is, I found it far from uninteresting — the massive windows, the strong central tower, a keep inside, the dark passages leading underground, even the wallflowers growing out of the crevices, all had a certain charm in my eyes. Many of the lower blocks of stone on the sea side are quite fresh and good, and the stones which are partly gone look as if they had been violently wrenched out. The pickaxe and the crowbar have done more to dismantle the castle than time and weather, although during the winter tremendous gales must sweep from the sea across these marshes, and strike full upon the old walls.

From the castle we go towards Hye, with its redtiled roofs running down the hill, and its noble old church standing guard over them. The marsh is much intersected with water-courses, so that it is difficult to find one's way across them. Strike off from the castle in a north-easterly direction, and you will see a little fence or gate, by the side of a ditch. Get over that, and keep on the embankment beyond, and this will lead to the swing bridge at the entrance to Rye. The sti'anger is at first rather surprised to see some signs of activity in this town, a town of Aveird aspect, like to that of the "bound of Lyonesse: — "

" A land of old upheaven from the abyss By fire, to sink into the abyss again ; Where fragments of forgotten peoples dwelt, And the long mountains ended in a coast Of ever shifting sand, and far away The phantom circle of a moaning sea. "

One walks the streets almost in a dream — mediaeval

6 Field Paths and Green Lanes. ch. i.

streets, roui)d which Arthuriim or other legends might cluster, but with difficulty to be thought of as an abode of the men of 1877. But the ancient harbour is still of use, and boat-building goes on, and fishermen ply their calling, and the tempest-tossed mariner is occasionally driven here for shelter. Plague, fire, famine, foreign foes, all have ravaged this wonderful relic of ancient England, and it is exactly five hundred years ago (in 1377) that the French came upon it, and put many of its inhabitants to the sword. We breathe the very air of the past in those antique streets. They ramble deviously u]) and down, hither and thither, roughly paved, with many an old gabled house here and there, and strange ruins, and mouldering gates and towers. The people about the streets seem to be an anachronism in their modern dress. Nothing more recent than the cavalier's cloak and hat and ruffles should be seen at Rye.

While wandering about the churchyard, I saw an old man digging round a few shrubs and phuits. His face was in harmony with the scene, so covered with wrinkles that it was (piite a masterpiece of Time's handiwork. I asked him where I should find the keys of the church, and he said in his pocket. There could not be a more convenient place.

"That is an old house," said I, pointing to the I'emains of the Carmelite chapel on the south of the churchyard.

"It was built five hundred years ago," replied the sexton, "and that was before / was built."

CU. I.

Winchdsca ajici Rye.

"Yes," I saiJ, "jou must not try to persuade me that you are much more than a hundred and fifty or so. I see your graveyard is nearly full — you will not be able to find room for many more."

"Oh, they've a-done here sometime; we ha' a cemetery up yonder — a tip-top place." "Tip-top" was decidedly a modern phrase, and I tried to imagine what a tip-top cemetery could be like. "Ay, there be a many changes in Rye," continued the sexton, "since I first knew it. The more I thinks on it, whether I be a-lying in bed or a-walking about, the more I be sure as everything is going upside down."

The last thing that occurred to me on looking round about us was that the town had suffered much from the hand of the innovator. Scarcely a tile can have been put upon a roof for a hundred years.

"Can you tell me," I asked, "where is the Mermaid inn of which I read in my book ?"

"I never heerd of it," said he, as he opened the door. "But here's a church for you — what do you think of that?"

I thought it was the largest church in a small place I had ever seen — a church, moreover, full of beauties in arches, and mouldings, and windows, though much mutilated by time and rough usage. The woodwork in various places is evidently of great antiquity, and one fine screen particularly may be of almost any age, and seems to be fast mouldering away.

"The church is eight hundred years old," quoth the sexton, "and ikat was before I was built." He chuckled

8 Field Paths and Green Lanes. en. r.

andlaughoel at his joke till he shook all over. Presently we stood over a slab to the memory of a Mr. Lamb who Avas slain by a "sanguinary butcher."

"That was a queer thing, sir, — have you catched that in your book yet ? A good many comes liere to be a eye-witness to this, because they see it in the book and don't believe it. When the butcher was tried, he said he didn't mean to do it — howsomever, they didn't give him a chance to stab any more. They gibbeted him ! When the French reigned here, they took up all the brasses out of this church, and in the wall you can see where their cannon shot did hit. The French have reigned here several times, but not since I was built."

" It is a pity you were not built before, for then you could have told us all about it ; but now I want you to tell me what are the' changes in Rye which make you so sad."

" Why, it's all changed — all topsy-turvy. They want to make this church Roman Catholic."

" Who does ? "

" Them as has got the money," said the old man mysteriously. " I never see the rector to speak to him ; or I would tell him, ' why not make half the church Protestant, and half lioman Catholic for them as likes it ? ' It's big enough for all."

" Well," said I, as he let me out, after I had sufficiently admired the grand old church, and the big pendulum swinging inside, and the heavy weights of the clock, " it is a wonderful church, and I hope you will be showing it for fifty years to come."

Winchelsea and Rye.

A woman who was passing by laughed ; at this levity the worthy sexton's youthful vanity was fired.

" You may laugh," he cried to her, " but I shall be worth as much as you are then at any rate."

" How old are you," I asked,

"Nigh upon eighty."

"A mere boy," said I "you will see many more wonderful changes in Rye yet."

" My Master takes care of me," said the old man, touching his hat.

The George hotel stands opposite Peacock's school, which was founded in 1636, and to which Mr. Thackeray sent his "Denis Duval." At the George I slept that night, and dreamt that the plague had again broken out, and that the mark of a cross had been chalked upon the door, and that men were going with a dead cart about the streets, crying "bring out your dead." I had been reading in the evening how that in 1563, no fewer than 562 men and women were smitten down with this dire disease in the then ancient town. But the next morning all was bright and fresh, and a commercial traveller's big parcels in the passage reminded me that I was living in an improved and enlightened age. Little boys soon made their appearance at the door of " Peacock's," and the enterprising tradesmen of Eye began to take down their shutters. The busy day had begun,

" I hear there is to be a war, sir," said the old

landlord.

" Indeed — between whom ? " 2 lo Field Paths ajid Green Lanes. en. i.

r

" I can't rightly say, sir ; I think it was the French." Perhaps even now a true Hye man thinks this little

world is peopled by only two nations, the English and

the French.

The Mermaid — still I looked about for the Mermaid

inn. I roamed up and down Mermaid Street, over the

rough cobble stones, loth to give up the search.

" at the helm

A seeming mermaid steers."

At last I met with an ancient man, who looked as if with a little effort of memory he might recall the Mermaid, or perhaps be the Merman who married her,

" Ah, sir," said he, with a sigh, " the inn has long been closed. How curious you should ask for it. Gone ever so long ago, sir."

More changes ! — the sexton was in the right of it after all.

" But," said he, " I will show you the house which was the inn ; a labouring man lives in it now. It goes up three or four steps — there it is, sir."

I knocked at the door, and a woman opened it — not old for a wonder.

" Can you tell me," I asked, "if this was the Mermaid inn (

" Yes, but now we lives in, it." And she, so far as I could judge, was not a mermaid. Presently, she offered to show me the old carvings, for which the house had a certain sort of celebrity, and I followed her without fear or trembling down a long and dark passage, and

CH. I. Winchelsea ajid Rye. 1 1

into a large room, where the broad fireplace was enclosed in a framework of fine carved oak, black with age. Tliere were carved oak panellings near it, and probably they had once gone round the entire room, but the hand of the spoiler has been there.

"Would you like to see the tiles in the old lady's room," asked the young woman.

" I should like it much," said I, " if the old lady would not object."

So I went upstairs, and was shown into a room large enough to hold a hundred people. There was only one old woman in it.

" I am a poor lone widow, sir," said she, " and have only one room."

" But see what a big one it is," said I, by way of keeping up her spirits, " you couldn't very well have two of this size."

" Many gentlefolks come here to see these tiles," said she, pointing to her fireplace ; and indeed they were well worth seeing — fine old Dutch tiles, blue and white, going all round the chimney and hearth. Each tile was the subject of a different picture, and most of the pictures represented seafaring scenes, such as must have been constantly before the eyes of the dwellers in Rye, when this old house was new. I stood a long time studying them, and meanwhile the occupant of the apartment impressed upon me that she was old and a widow.

Then they took me up into the attics — large, roomy apartments, with huge oaken timbers running across

1 2 Field Paths and Green Lanes. ch. i.

them ; and from thence into so many rooms and closets and queer old places that I got lost, and shonld never have found my way out without a guide. The old house had been built to last for ever. How can a modern builder go into such a house as this without being crushed by the sense that he is a wretched impostor ? Fit to build ? "No, not fit to live."

As I came out, the father of the girl appeared, with a woman standing behind him, and immediately the latter began to make signs to me. At this I was much concerned, not being used to such attentions.

" Do you ever see any ghosts here," said I.

" No," said the man, " but they told us the place was haunted when we came into it. The only ghosts we has now are the gentlemen of the Archa3ological Society, and some of 'em weigh eighteen stone. But lor, sir, they can walk over our attics without falling through — they never seem a bit nervous. They know how people built in those days,"

Meanwhile, the mysterious person in the background became more extravagant in her signs and gestures, and I was more and more bewildered at her addresses.

The father cast his eye over his shoulder and saw what was going on. " Don't mind lier, sir," said ho, " she was took so at two years old, and now she is thirty-five, and cannot dress herself She is what we calls a himhecile."

Poor woman, and poor father ! I gave them each a trifle, not forgetting the lone widow, and left the Mermaid with good wishes all round.