TO CANTERBURY VIA
THE ANCIENT PILGRIMS'
ILLUSTRATED nr
. W. R. ADAM5
THE LIBRARY
OF
THE UNIVERSITY
OF CALIFORNIA
LOS ANGELES
NEW WHEELS
IN OLD RUTS
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS
A PILGRIMAGE TO CANTERBURY
VIA THE ANCIENT PILGRIM'S WAY
BY HENRY PARR WITH PEN AND INK
SKETCHES BY F. W. R. ADAMS
LONDON : T. FISHER UNWIN
PATERNOSTER SQUARE 1896
DA
67O
All rights reserved.
PREFACE.
IN case anybody doesn't like this book, I may as
well explain that I intended to have written some-
thing very different. The work was to have teemed
with profound archaeological research and solid learn-
ing. But I got into bad company and was led
astray. The little frailties of my fellow pilgrims
proved more attractive matter for my purpose than
more serious subjects. After all, neither Chaucer nor
Erasmus were quite able to resist the same tempta-
tion.
My chief regret, however, is that the photographs
taken en route by my friend, Mr. J. W. Church, have
had to be omitted from this edition. Not only are
they of exceptional technical excellence, but both
author and artist had relied upon them to supply the
defects of pen and pencil with regard to the scenery
in the valleys of the Medway and Stour.
879395
CONTENTS.
PAGE
PROLOGUE BY AX
OBSERVANT OUTSIDER
ii
CHAPTER I.
WAYS AND MEAXS
... 19
CHAPTER II.
UXDER WEIGH
... 26
CHAPTER III.
OXFORD
...
37
CHAPTER IV.
BY THE WAY
...
... 50
CHAPTER V.
WROTHAM ...
... 58
CHAPTER VI.
LEAVES FROM A CANNIBAL COOKERY BOOK
... 67
CHAPTER VII.
IN QUEST OF THE
"UPPER BELL"
... 72
10 CONTENTS.
PAGE
CHAPTER VIII.
THE " UPPER BELL" ... ... ... ... 78
CHAPTER IX.
WAYWARD MEMORIES ... ... ... ... 86
CHAPTER X.
CATIGERX AND HORSA ... ... ... ... 92
CHAPTER XI.
THE LEGEND OF MERODAH AND SHAKOXESEK ... ... IOO
CHAPTER XII.
THE HOLY ROOD OF BOXLEY ... ... ... IIO
CHAPTER XIII.
DI.GRESSIOXS. OX ORDXAXCE MAPS AXD OTHER THIXGS 1 16
CHAPTER XIV.
THURXHAM CASTLE... ... ... ... ... 124
CHAPTER XV.
LEXHAM ... ... ... ... ... ... 131
CHAPTER XVI.
WE EXCAMP AT WYE ... ... ... ... 139
CHAPTER XVII.
THE PILGRIMS WEIGHED ... ... ... ... 151
CHAPTER XVIII.
EN ROUTE OXCE MORE ... ... ... ... 159
CHAPTER XIX.
THE ARTIST'S STORY ... ... ... ... 166
CHAPTER XX.
IX WHICH WE ARRIVE ... ... ... ... 173
EPILOGUE COXTRIBUTED BY HIGGIXS... ... ... 179
PROLOGUE
BY AN OBSERVANT OUTSIDER.
A NEW idea always has a deleterious effect on the
Reviewer. It is so unnecessary, so contrary to the
etiquette of his profession, for a journalist to have
any ideas of his own. His mission in life is to
criticise, and belittle by plagiarism all. the new ideas
of other people, so that they may see the folly of
their eccentric attempts at originality, and form a firm
purpose of amendment in the future.
To do the Reviewer justice, he tries conscientiously
to deal with his own ideas in the same manner as
with those of other people. Somehow or other the
treatment is never very successful. The more care-
fully he pulls his ideas to pieces, dissects and
criticises, the more important and all-engrossing they
appear. They refuse to be crushed or set aside.
The only certain cure, so he has informed me con-
fidentially, is a week's holiday and a bracing atmo-
sphere.
It was just about the time when the apparition of a
watering-cart in Fleet Street betokened that summer
12
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
suns ought to have commenced to glow. The
Reviewer was observed to wear a worried look, and
to mistake the mustard pot for the milk-jug three
evenings in succession. Then we knew that an idea
was beginning to trouble him.
A week later the symptoms became much more
pronounced. The tea-table every evening was
entirely covered with railway time-tables, guide-
books and county atlases surreptitiously borrowed
from the reading-room a few doors off. So engrossed
was he in the study of these works that he frequently
left without settling with the cashier, thus entailing
considerable outlay on the part of casual acquain-
tances.
With a sad pity we watched the malady reach an
infectious stage.
BY AN OBSERVANT OUTSIDER. 13
The new victim was Higgins. This was no more
than might be expected. Higgins, in the rare
intervals during which he is not evolving some wild
craze of his own, is an invaluable ally, when any new
scheme for the regeneration of mankind, or the
replenishment of the private purse, has occurred to
you. He co-operates enthusiastically, and is easily
persuaded to undertake any part of the work which
is either difficult or disagreeable. If it happens to
prove a success, then you can secure all the credit
for yourself ; if the whole affair is a failure, of course
you blame " That fool Higgins ! "
At length on Wednesday evening at the club, our
curiosity was appeased, by the Reviewer solemnly
14 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
announcing that in company with a select party
of pilgrims he intended to explore the Pilgrim's
Way.
We had heard of the Appian Way, and also of the
Milky Way. It appeared that the thoroughfare in
question was not connected with either of these. For
our further information Higgins read us the following
extract from " Murray's Guide " :
" A line of ancient road, perhaps British, is in many
parts of its. course known as ' The Pilgrim's Way,'
and is traditionally said to be that followed by the
pilgrims to Canterbury. . . . Traces of it are found
throughout Kent, Surrey, or Hampshire, marked
often by long lines of Kentish yews, usually creeping
half way up the hills, immediately below the line of
cultivation, and under the highest crest, passing here
and there a solitary chapel or friendly monastery, but
avoiding for the most part the towns and villages and
the regular roads, probably for the same reason as, in
the days of Shamgar, the son of Anath, ' the high-
ways were unoccupied and the travellers walked
through bye-ways.' "
This was the Reviewer's idea. Nowadays, as he
explained, it is difficult to hit on any kind of
excursion that has not been anticipated by somebody
else. If you think of going round the world in a few
minutes shorter time than the record, at every
junction you will meet some other fool on the same
bent. If you go shooting "big game," ten to one
your neighbour Jones bags the very tiger you have
BY AN OBSERVANT OUTSIDER. 15
selected on which to display your prowess. The
libraries are full of books written by tourists in the
wilds of Guatemala, Central Africa, Cape Horn, and
everywhere else of difficult access, and that costs a
small fortune to travel in with any degree of safety
and comfort. There is just this one route, near home
and left deserted. No one has thought of writing a
book about the lovely scenery in the Weald of Kent,
or the quaint architecture and prehistoric remains
that line this curious, long-forgotten track.
When the subject was first broached to the Photo-
grapher, he said that his finances were not prepared
to stand the strain.
i6
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
" It will cost you next to nothing," the Reviewer
assured him. " Besides, if you want a pound or two
you can always come to me."
The Reviewer always labours under the impression
that he is possessed of untold millions. In reality,
he is invariably impecu-
nious.
" Well, who else is
coming?" continued the
Photographer.
"Oh! the Artist. He
will do most of the illus-
trating work. You can
make one or two telling
pictures for the Exhibi-
tion. We can take it
easy. Ten miles a day
will be ample. Johnson
is coming too, and (sotto
voce] we can make him
carry the camera."
"I'll think about it,"
said the Photographer at
last. And when the Photographer deliberates he is
lost.
The Artist's sympathy had next to be enlisted.
He is an active, enterprising young man, with a
lengthy stride. To him the Reviewer pictured the
delights of thirty miles a day.
" You need do very little sketching. Only take
BY AN OBSERVANT OUTSIDER.
notes of some curious bits of local character and
rustic humour. You can ' fake up ' most of your
sketches from the photographs."
Johnson refused to come on any account. He said
Kent was a most dangerous country for a walking
tour, infested with tramps
and hop-pickers. In vain
did Higgins assure him
that hops were not har-
vested in the first week of
August. Johnson was in-
exorable. Ilfracombe with
the wife and children
was quite epoch-making
enough for him.
The Boy was more
easily persuaded. I be-
lieve his infant mind was
chiefly attracted by the
opportunities which were
sure to occur for the
sundry games of whist
and dominoes, in which
his soul delighted. He
was tolerated by the ex-
pedition, partly because numbers made the pilgrimage
most imposing, partly, as Higgins remarked, because
it would be doing him an immense amount of good
to spend a few days in the company of sober, well-
conducted persons.
2
1 8 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
Nothing could be more complete than the arrange-
ments. Almost daily the Reviewer discovered a
more authentic route involving a complete change in
the programme. Owners of property were written to
for permission to pass through their territory, and a
courteous letter conferring carte blanche was almost
invariably received. Innkeepers were instructed to
reserve unlimited accommodation. Higgins, who was
appointed Master of the Forage Department,
compiled an elaborate menu for each day. Over this
the Reviewer chuckled inwardly. He was better
acquainted than the rest of the party with the
resources of Kentish taverns.
With this introduction I will leave to him the task
of recounting the adventures which befell the pilgrims
in their wanderings.
CHAPTER I.
A COMMITTEE OF WAYS AND MEANS.
THE pleasures of a walking tour are in exactly
inverse ratio to the weight of luggage.
Here Higgins interposed with an amendment
19
2O
NKW W1IKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
" Why a walking tour ? Mules would be so much
more correct ! " The idea of a pilgrimage on mules
opened out whole vistas of possible enjoyment, and
we deputed Higgins to make inquiries all about
mules and the terms on which they could be hired.
A mutual friend asserts that he met him next day at
a riding school in Knightsbridge.
At the next meeting Higgins appeared with his
arm in a sling. He alleged that he had slipped on a
piece of orange peel, and submitted that the proper
kind of mules for pilgrimage purposes could only be
obtained from abroad at very great expense. As a
substitute he proposed bicycles. There were inge-
nious means of fixing cameras on to bicycles. Then
the Artist said that he saw no reason at all why
Higgins should not ride a bicycle, because it would
afford us so much entertainment on the journey.
But the Pilgrim's road was not an ideal bicycle track
in his opinion. There was too much variation of
level, and the ruts and stones had a habit of con-
cealing themselves behind tufts of grass, that tended
A COMMITTKK OK WAYS AM)- MEANS. 21
to disturb the serenity and repose of an ideal pilgrim-
age on bicycles.
The Boy knew exactly where we could hire a mule,
and a barge to tic on to it as well. We might take
turns to go on shore and hurry the mule along, while
the rest basked in the sun and smoked, or spun
nautical yarns. When it rained we could go down
into the cabin and play " nap " or dominoes. The
hold would make a capital stable for the mule, so
there would be no hotel bills to pay.
When we informed the Boy that canals did not
always run within convenient distance of the
Pilgrim's Way, he saw no difficulty. " We could
easily trade off the barge for a caravan or a
waggonette when the canals are not hand}-. Then
when we got to another canal we could trade back
the waggonette for the barge again. The mule
would come in useful for either work."
This would never do. Elaborate commercial
transactions are contrary to the pilgrim spirit. And
think how unsettling it would be, say, to the Photo-
grapher on his return from a visit to some ancient
ruin, to find that during his absence headquarters had
been transferred from a barge to a Pickford's van !
And there is another personage whose feelings
must be considered. I mean the mule. Sudden
changes of rank are demoralising to man and beast
alike. Suppose the exigencies of the moment required
our exchange of the barge for a hansom cab, or a
stylish dogcart. Just as our mule had succeeded in
22
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
acquiring a high-stepping trot with becoming arro-
gance, we should perhaps strike another canal, and
he would be shunted back to the monotonous old
barge again. His intellect would be hopelessly un-
dermined. I refused to be a party to any proceeding
of this character.
The practical common sense of the Photographer
came to the rescue with a much better plan. " Why
not take the_train to some place, leave our traps at
the station, see and sketch that part of the route, and
then return and take the train to the next station ? "
We spent three days figuring out this method with
the help of Bradshaw and the County Maps. If the
stations had only been placed a little nearer the
localities we wished to visit, and there were a few
more trains, it would have been more feasible. Under
existing circumstances our journey would occupy
three months, and we should have to walk a distance
of i ,063 miles to save sixty !
A COMMITTEE OF WAYS AND MEANS. 23
The Photographer did not like to abandon this
plan entirely. Could we not do as much as possible
during the holiday, and then take Saturday to
Monday off each week till it was finished ? Or we
might parcel it out into five sections and each under-
take one, after the manner of a " Chain." But neither
of these motions found a seconder.
I exhorted the pilgrims with some lines from Con-
ington's Virgil :
" Since Fate constrains let us obey,
And follow where she leads the way,"
which I had just found in a Dictionary of Quotations.
We were fated to walk, and I proposed that each one
of us should forthwith write down an inventory of the
luggage absolutely necessary for a walking tour of a
week's duration.
The Artist finished his list first. I think it so
admirable that I give it in full :
" Three paper collars."
He explained that the collars being reversible each
one would last for two days, and the cleanest of the
three would be selected to serve again for the odd
day. We struck a balance between this list and that
of Higgins, which reached to a total of 1 12 articles at
the point when the available supply of paper gave
out. Them I went out and borrowed a bag that
seemed to me exactly of the cubical capacity to hold
five sets of toilet necessaries.
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
When I brought the bag to Higgins' rooms on the
eve of our departure, he was much amused. He said
that an uncle of his was in the habit of packing five
dress suits, three pairs of boots and seventeen linen
shirts, with accessories to match, in a bag of just the
same size and descrip-
^ $rl W tion. I remonstrated
/~^^\ r *^
^^ '^ with Higgins for his
effrontery in owning a
relation who wallowed
in this deplorable lux-
ury. Without taking
due notice of this timely
reproof, he continued
to urge that it was
wasting our opportuni-
ties to put just our few
Iff simple possessions in a
fine commodious bag
such as that was. We
might at least take the
seven guide-books, two
or three novels, and a packet of inflammatory litera-
ture that he had promised to distribute among the
labourers, to oblige a friend who believed in that sort
of thing.
I adjured Higgins to spare the feelings of the bag.
He replied that it \vould stretch.
He was quite right. The bag stretched wonder-
fully. Next day just as we were ascending an
A COMMITTEE OF WAYS AM) MEANS. 25
omnibus it stretched so much that the lock burst,
and the populace in Holborn scrambled for a
phenomenal shower of toothbrushes and paper
collars.
CHAPTER II.
UNDER WEIGH.
OF course we were late in starting, the delay having
been caused by Higgins who would insist on changing
his necktie. Higgins has an elaborate sequence of
colours in the matter of neckties. On great feast-
days, such as birthdays, he wears green with yellow
spots ; on Sundays, plain red ; on other days, white
silk alternating with blue or neutral tints. He had
purchased a most gorgeous tie, light blue with orange
stripes, on purpose for this occasion, but at the very
last moment he relented and insisted on arraying
himself in plain red.
When we arrived breathless and anxious at
Holborn Station (and the Boy had been rescued from
an attempt to vault the barrier into a Crystal Palace
train) it was discovered that to allow for accidents I
had timed the departure of the train twenty minutes
too early. Higgins was especially indignant, as he
had fresh misgivings about his tie and wanted to go
back and change it. When diverted from this object
he consoled himself by purchasing at the bookstall a
UNDER WEIGH. 27
complete set of various penny periodicals, guarantee-
ing untold wealth to any reader who was fortunate
enough to get killed in a railway accident.
Higgins is always so thoughtful and provident.
Another little ingenious device of his was to cut up
the Ordnance map into small squares so that we
could take one section at a time without the incon-
venience of opening out and doubling up a great
sheet. Each square was numbered on the back so
as to prevent mistakes. The worst of it is that all
Higgins' schemes have some insidious unforeseen
defect about them. No accident occurred during our
railway journey, so that the money spent on Til-Bits
and CasselFs Saturday was completely thrown away.
As to the cut-up Ordnance map more anon.
The railway journey was somewhat disappointing.
I can remember the time when even the hour or two
spent between Charing Cross and Lewisham via
Cannon Street was full of amusement and instruction
to the traveller. The engine driver used to select
such interesting spots for his stoppages. Thus I have
often had the opportunity of studying the internal
economy of a large timber-yard ; or if there was a
fight between two dogs, or an argument between a
man and his wife in a Borough attic, the train always
considerately drew up so that the passengers might
have an opportunity of betting on the result.
Nowadays all this sort of thing is but a memory.
You are whirled along remorselessly at thirty or forty
miles an hour past the most lovely scenery or most
28
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
curious episodes of modern life. Just think of the
chances wasted on that long viaduct from Blackfriars
to Herne Hill. Those miles of windows, on the
contents of which you have no time even to speculate,
and are perforce thrust upon your own resources or
those of your fellow-travellers.
""^ ^^ x "I The Boy suggested that this
was just the proper occasion for
a game of whist. Both the
Artist and myself declined to
join. So from the two strangers
in the compartment he selected
a solemn but inoffensive-look-
ing individual and invited him
to take the fourth hand.
" Sorry not to oblige you, but
I have never played a game of
cards in my life," replied the
solemn man. " But don't mind
me ! "
This aroused the admiration
of the other stranger, a big
strapping Borough salesman.
" Gort 'im again," he exclaimed, with a hearty slap
on his neighbour's back. "You stick to that, and I'll
stand by you."
He then somewhat irrelevantly proceeded to inform
us in picturesque and forcible phraseology that he
had been charged threepence for a sausage at the
refreshment bar.
UNDER WEIGH. 29
Thenceforward the coster took his solemn neigh-
bour under his wing. It is a pity that his repeated
expressions of amity and esteem were so unprintable.
He recounted to him all the secrets of his business,
his friendships, his amours and amusements. As
these confidences did not succeed in dispelling the
solemn man's depression, he offered to sing any song
the company selected, and without giving us time for
choice, burst into various specimens from his re-
pertory. His voice for volume and capacity would
have suited the Albert Hall admirably ; for tune and
compass it would have suited anywhere not less than
two miles from his auditors. Higgins thought our
new acquaintance vastly entertaining.
But music was of no avail ; the solemn man only
looked a little more miserable than before.
The benevolent coster was not discouraged in his
attempts to please. He declared that he knew an
infallible cure for a disordered liver. There was a
cabbage and a saucepan connected with it ; the
preparation was intricate, and I forget the rest. But
it was a sure cure for all diseases of the liver. He
would fight any one for a tanner who denied it. The
scars on his closely cropped cranium, earned in
combats where quart pots are the missiles, testified
to his prowess.
" Hafter all, the real thing you wants, mate, is in
my bloomin' pocket all the time. Cheer up, sonny,
you shall have it. Wot ! not tikin' any, old chum ! "
So saying he produced a bottle, and, after applying
it to his lips, proffered it to his neighbour.
30 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
At this crisis we summoned up courage to interfere
for the protection of our fellow-traveller. The ex-
hibition had such an intensely humorous side that we
had not realised the full extent of the victim's disgust
and discomfort. The coster was very indignant at
our interference, complaining that it entirely arose
from our jealousy of his preference for the solemn
man's society. A threat to call the guard restrained
him from further violence.
The solemn man thanked us for our timely
assistance, and said that he was a lecturer on
temperance. Higgins remarked that his uncle had
once intended to sign the pledge, but changed his
mind when he read in an anatomical work that a cer-
tain bacillus lived in the alimentary canal, and spent
its whole time in converting saccharine matter into
alcohol. Upon this he saw that it was hopeless to
attempt the elimination of alcohol from the system.
The solemn man replied that some people's bacilli
must have been long ago thrown out of work by
foreign competition. He left the carriage at the next
station.
After his departure the coster volunteered to take
a hand at whist. The game would have proceeded
more harmoniously if parties had been more agreed
about the rules of play, and there had been fewer
disputes as to " what was trumps." It ended by Tom
Harris offering to fight his three opponents (the
existence of partners in the game was one question
on which authorities were divided) on this important
UNDER WEIGH. 31
subject We were nearing a station, and just then
the coster remembered that the solemn man had
only changed into the next carriage. Since we had
driven " his friend " out by our unsociable ways, he
determined to rejoin him. With the inconsequence
of his class, he first insisted on shaking hands all
round, and promised to stand us a tripe supper and
a pint of stout apiece whenever we chose to " drop
in ); at his stand in the Borough market.
" The Pilgrim's path has still its dangers," said
the Artist, with a sigh of relief, when our noisy
acquaintance had evaporated. " Will the Reviewer
condescend to cheer our fainting hearts with an
appropriate story ? "
On this invitation I related the following legend.
Many readers will recognise its source, different
versions being current in most parts of Spain.
THE MIRACLE OF SAN DOMINGO.
" Dark and gloomy was Felipe's journey. Sunset
was long past, and he had lost his way in the
trackless forest. His limbs were worn out with
weariness ; the yells of the wolves filled him with
misgivings. As the strange sounds of the night
echoed round him, his anxiety increased so much
that he forgot even to bless himself.
'"I can go no further,' at length he exclaimed.
' I will climb into this tree for safety and wait till
morning.'
3* NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
*" Scarcely had he reached his place of refuge when
he heard the angry voices of two men in dispute
approaching. Two mendicant friars were quarrelling
over the result of their day's begging.
n ' I worked harder than you,' cried the first, ' and
have*earned at least three times as much.'
" ' You are a liar ! ' the other retorted. ' You had
all the rich men's houses for your share, while I had
to beg from the poor and at the church doors. Share
and share alike I say ! '
" And so they continued to argue till from words
they came to blows. Nor did they stop at this, but
took up sticks and stones and attacked each other so
furiously that they bled to death.
" Felipe watched them till his heart grew sick with
horror, and his limbs trembled so much that he nearly
fell out of the tree. When at last they sank ex-
hausted he descended and found they were dead.
Now Felipe was a pious pilgrim, and omitted no
religious duties. So, after saying so much of the
office of the dead as he could remember, he dug a
grave for each. But when he came to inter them,
the bodies had vanished !
" Soon he was compelled to return to his tree by
the herds of hungry wolves, who snapped and tore
at the bark in the vain attempt to reach him. In
spite of this, weariness eventually induced slumber.
"He was awakened by the sound of more people
in conversation beneath the tree. A band of robbers
were discussing the disposal of their booty. Felipe
UNDER WEIGH. 33
thought he would give them a lesson. Suddenly,
in the midst of their excited wrangling he shouted,
as solemnly as he could, ' Thou shalt not steal ! '
At this the robbers took to their heels, conscience
stricken.
" Next morning he examined the booty left behind
by the marauders. It was nearly all gold and silver
plate, precious stones, and money. So he buried all
in the graves intended for the two friars, and went
on his way towards the shrine of St. James of
Compostella.
" Alas ! a sad fate was in store for him. At the
next inn the landlady took a fancy to Felipe, he
being young and comely. He was a pious young
man and repelled her advances. In revenge she
concealed a silver spoon in his wallet, and after he
had gone, pretended to miss it, and sent the police
in search of the pilgrim.
" The constable warned him that whatever he said
might be taken down in evidence against him ; but
Felipe, relying on his innocence, blurted out the
whole story about the robbers and the .buried
treasure in the wood.
" ' Oh, indeed ! ' exclaimed the judge, when this was
related to him. ' This is surely the most impudent
rogue that ever stole. We have caught at last the
hardened villain who robbed the duke's palace a
few clays ago.' And he bade the officers take him
to the place where the treasure was concealed, and
hang him there as a warning to all future offenders.
3
34 XK\V WIIKKLS IX OLD RUTS.
" Months passed away, and Felipe's parents became
anxious at the continued absence of their only son.
The)' started in search of him. In due time they
came suddenly on the very place where his body
hung, in chains, like a felon. Then to their grief-
stricken hearts came the voice of consolation. The
dead lifted its voice and spake ..
" ' I am not guilty, dear father and mother. And,
through the intercession of blessed St. Dominick,
I am happy in the pleasures of Paradise.'
"The parents hurried off to do justice to the memory
of their beloved son. In their eagerness they burst
into the magistrate's dining-room just as he was about
to carve a fine pair of roast fowls.
" The judge heard what the old people had to say,
and then he laughed long and loud.
" ' You might as well tell me,' he sneered, ' that
these chickens will get up and crow ! Goodness
gracious ! '
" The chickens had risen to the occasion ; one of
them jumped out of the dish on to the floor, and
the grease entirely ruined the new carpet. The
other flapped his featherless wings sending showers
of gravy into the bystanders' eyes, and, perched on
the back of the chair, gave forth the most defiant crow
that ever was heard in a barnyard.
" The magistrate had no roast fowl for dinner that
day, for these phenomenal roosters were claimed by
the ecclesiastical authorities. According to Mrs.
Middlemore, two of their descendants are still pre
UNDKR WHICH.
35
served alive near the High Altar in the church of
St. Domingo de la Calzada. And this is the reason
why pilgrims to the Shrine of St. James of Com-
postella still wear white feathers in their hats."
The Boy's commentary on this story was that
everybody except the poultry seemed to come out
second best. At any rate our own policy should be
to avoid collisions with the law.
CHAPTER III.
OXFORD.
" GOOD morning- ! "
The kindly greeting from a passing peasant in the
lane which led from the station to the town of
Otford, struck a responding chord in hearts jaded
with the conventionalities of city life. This little
mark of human sympathy cheered us almost as
much as the pure and soft breezes, that we drew
in at each expanding respiration. It was just a
word of welcome, like the little bird's salutation to
the prince who came to waken the Sleeping Beauty
from her hundred years' sleep ; for was it not our
mission to revive the Pilgrim's road from its slumber
of three hundred years ?
According to one John Philpot, who wrote a
history of Kent in 1659, the derivation of Otford
is " The place where the otters breed." The Boy
declared that the derivation was an " otter fraud."
To curb any future offences of this kind he was
condemned to carry the camera, our heaviest piece
of baggage, for the next two miles.
37
OTFOKI).
39
There arc ruins of a former palace of the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury, an ivy-grown, red brick, Tudor
tower, a broken cloister turned into cottages, and an
octagon foreshortened and covered with a great roof
of thatch which had a charmingly quaint effect. A
path past the church with its curious Jacobean oak
porch, and through a hop garden where the luxuriant
bine was already rich with promising buds, led us to
St. Thomas' Well. Braving the remonstrances of an
interloper who declared
that we were trespass-
ing, we descended the
steps and drank of the
limpid refreshing foun-
tain. The spring is in \
a little " dip " in the
ground, and forms a
pit about thirty feet
by twelve, built up
with masonry, with
steps leading down to
the water at one angle. Timber struts have been
thrown across to prevent the walls falling in. Over-
grown with brambles, ivy, and wild flowers of all
kinds, this retired nook is a very pleasant spot.
Lambard and others state that the palace being
in want of water, the Saint bored in the ground with
his staff, and immediately a plentiful supply of water
appeared. The legend has this in common with that
recorded of Caesar's Well, where the Ravensborne
40 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
rises. We can easily believe that the water burst
forth when the staff was thrust in. What we want
to know is, how could there ever have been any
scarcity of water in a district intersected with small
streams, and with the river " where the otters bred,"
flowing within a stone's throw.
The Boy declined to drink the water, alleging
as his excuse the tradition that the Saint used it
as a bathing-place. But did St. Thomas ever bathe ?
Monkish chronicles seem to deny the soft impeach-
ment. Higgins proposed that we should bathe in
it, but the fear that the proprietor had departed
in search of myrmidons to assist in ejecting us,
decided us against the project.
OTFORI). 41
Our way now led us along a by-road between
fields of waving corn, arousing our doubts whether
agriculture is, after all, in so dreadful a state of
depression as some people tell us. Nor could we
realise easily that on this peaceful scene had oft-
times burst the din and tragedy of war. For here
is the eastern end of Holmsdale, one of the most
fertile plains in the world, and the stronghold of
the men of Kent.
" The Vale of Holmsdale
Never conquered, never shall."
Every invading army that has entered this fatal
district has been cut to pieces. At least two bloody
massacres have been wrought by the native armies
in the fields through which we are passing. Off a,
king of Mercia, was conquered here by Aldric of
Kent, in 773, and Edmund Ironsides repulsed Canute
with his hordes of Danes, in 1016. Mercian and
Danish skulls are even now disinterred in the new
furrows. But the proudest boast of the inhabitants
is that William the Norman with all his host, the
flower of continental chivalry, was overawed at the
sight of their numbers and array. He was forced
to confirm their ancient charter, and hence they
were known as the " Men of Kent," as distinguished
from their neighbours who lost their privileges as a
result of the Battle of Hastings.
In the public school where I underwent the
4- NKW WHKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
.sufferings of education, there was a certain species
of boy into whose system the most elementary
principles of knowledge could never be instilled.
These great hulking louts of fifteen and upwards
adhered closely to the bottom of the lowest forms.
They were too heavy to rise according to the prin-
ciples of scholastic gravitation ; the pons asinorum
would have broken down under their weight. How
we used to despise them ! Though their lot had its
compensations. We, the clever ones, had to rise at
an unearthly hour to learn by heart long passages
from /Eschylus or Horace or the Greek Testament,
and spend the vigils of the night in writing Latin
and Greek composition. They went to bed with the
juniors, and rose just in time for a bathe in the river
before breakfast. We were kept poring all day over
our verses and logarithms. They ate apples in class,
and played noughts and crosses behind the master's
back. If we gave a smaller boy a licking for cheeking
us, we received long impositions for bullying the
lower school. They reduced the small fry into a
state of abject slavery, compelling them to obey their
slightest whim, and even to give tribute of their
pocket money.
There seemed to us some inequality about it all.
We consoled ourselves by looking forward and
thinking what a small figure these ignoramuses
would cut in the world as compared with persons of
culture like ourselves. We should do all the great
things be Archbishops, and Prime Ministers, and
OTFOR1). 43
Queen's Counsel ; while, with their thick heads and
stunted intellects, the future could have no higher
task in store for them than hoeing turnips or scrub-
bing horses.
Alas and alack ! Next time we are sent to school
we shall know better.
Time went on. We grew out of our schooldays
and were sent out to earn our living. Things were
very different to what we expected. Nobody was
particularly desirous of seeing Shakespeare trans-
lated into Greek, or of buying a Sapphic poem in
honour of the opening of the Severn Tunnel. Long
years of study had weakened our nerves and de-
stroyed our energy. Our studious and diffident
ways were not good armament for the struggle. We
all got left somehow.
The most brilliant genius of all is now in an
asylum. Another poor fellow jumped off Waterloo
Bridge a year or two ago. A third, who can recite
from memory nearly the whole of Aristophanes, is
a clerk in a solicitor's office at thirty shillings a
week.
And how about the dunces who could never under-
stand why, when the subject was in the singular, the
verb should not be in the plural ? To them the
world was simply an oyster, and they opened it
without turning a hair. They had never undermined
their constitutions over Greek particles, nor yet
enervated their digestive economy with athletic
training. They had lived in the sunshine and grown
44 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
strong, so that when the real work of life came they
were fresh and ready. In subjugating the youngsters
they had been learning how to rule the weaker races
of men, and impounding their classmates' pocket-
money was only a stepping-stone to great financial
transactions. To-day they are merchant princes,
nitrate kings, and aldermen. One of them is on the
County Council and a candidate for Parliament. By
writing his speeches at threepence a line I have
staved off starvation for a few weeks.
The men of Holmsdale possessed the same inklings
of sound worldly wisdom as our backward school-
fellows. When messengers came from King Harold
asking them to spare a few regiments to fight the
Norman invader, they said to each other " What
has it all got to do with us ? W T e are busy with an
extra fine harvest, and they want us to leave it to rot
in the ground while we go fooling about at Hastings.
Not much."
So they sent back to the King : " We are only a
humble provincial tribe, and you can easily spare our
small assistance. If we send you our fighting men,
the Danish pirates will sail up the Medway and
ravage our lands. We are doing much more good
by stopping at home and preventing this new
danger."
Then the Saxon generals laughed, and said with
a sneer : " Well, I never did think those Holmsdale
people were good for much except tall talk. W T hen
the pinch comes, you see, they are a poor lot." And
OTFORD.
45
they went on to Hastings and got badly worsted by
the Normans.
Meanwhile, the Holmsdale folk quietly malted
their barley, and gathered their wheat into the
granaries. A few months later the news came that
all the country was submitting to the Conqueror.
Then the time for prompt action had arrived.
William of Normandy was sitting in his tent at
Swanscombe, near Greenhithe, when word was brought
him that the sentries
observed the wood
moving towards the
camp in a strangely
erratic manner. He
ascended the look-
out, and with his
telescope ascertained
the truth of the re-
port ; his knees
quaked beneath him
and his heart grew sick with fear as he thought of
Macbeth. " Birnam Wood is coming to Dunsinanc
for me also. My crimes are finding me out ! " he
groaned.
The wood advanced till it came within a quarter
of a mile of the camp. Then suddenly the Holms-
dale men threw down their green branches, and
disclosed the serried array of well-armed infantry.
And as Archbishop Stigand and his choir of monks
struck up the terrible melody of Xovam Victoriam
46 NKW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
Cruccm, every Norman knight fished the Bradshaw
out of his valise and looked up the next continental
express.
However, a compromise was arranged. William
generously agreed to sign all the documents without
any reference to his solicitors. This is how it came
to pass that while all the rest of England was por-
tioned out to Norman favourites, Holmsdale remained
Saxon land. And the natives went on prosperously
with the proud title of " Men of Kent," and " Saviours
of their country," while all the scarred veterans of
Stamford Bridge and Senlac had to submit to poverty
and disgrace.
Kcmsing, our next village, was once a famous
place of pilgrimage. St. Edith, whose statue formerly
stood in the churchyard, was a sort of Dea Agrestis,
and protected corn and grain from mildew. Lambard
has some remarks, in his own peculiarly boorish kind
of wit, on the offerings made at her shrine.
Would that these curious old observances of our
forefathers had received more gentle and reverent
treatment ! W T ho knows what strange discoveries
some painstaking student of folklore might arrive at,
if he could only follow out the thread which leads to
the Celtic or Teutonic origin of this custom of offering
grain to St. Edith, or the analogous practice at
Otford of offering a game-cock to St. Bartholomew ?
They did little harm. They brightened the lives of
the peasantry, and cherished a faith which might
have grown out of its leading strings with the spread
OXFORD. 47
of education. When the local saint-worship was
ruthlessly stamped out and sneered away, the peasant
returned to the instincts of his lower nature witch-
craft and devil-worship.
"The question to be considered," remarked Iliggins,
" is : Did the custom increase the corn crop, or did
it not ? Before the statue was pulled down and
offerings at the shrine forbidden, was it ever satis-
factorily proved that the whole thing was a
fraud ? "
" I cannot tell you," I replied. " I must confess
that I never thought of looking at it in that light
before."
"Well, I'll tell you a story that illustrates my
point," continued Higgins. /
" An uncle of mine was superintendent of the tele-
graph being constructed through Persia. A young
Mussulman offered himself for employment, and
learnt the Morse alphabet so readily that he was
given charge of a temporary station in a remote
village.
" The villagers soon became inquisitive as to the
nature of his employment. He tried to explain the
mysteries of the electric wire. When he told them
that he could communicate with the next village
within five minutes by tapping on that little box,
hey laughed at his impudence. He proceeded to
state that in ten minutes he could get an answer from
Teheran. They opened their mouths in wonder and
cried to each other : ' Bismillah ! Was there ever
48 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
such an incorrigible liar ! ' When he talked about
sending messages to Constantinople, they broke
down. This was disgusting blasphemy. He must
go before the Cadi.
" The Cadi said that this was the most barefaced
rogue that he had ever come across in the whole
course of his judicial experience. He ordered him
to be bastinadoed, and afterwards to be tied upon an
ass with his face towards the tail, and this inscription
on his back : ' Thus shall be done to all the deceivers
of the faithful.'
" Now, we are just in the same position with regard
to certain secrets of nature, as the Cadi was with the
telegraph. With all our boasted science, Huxley and
Darwin don't know everything."
" You would have us believe, then, that the dis-
continuance of the worship of St. Edith has some
connection with agricultural depression," suggested
the Artist.
"What facts we hold are in its favour," replied
Higgins. " We know that English agriculture has
been steadily getting worse ever since statistics have
been properly kept. Who can tell whether or no
there is some unsuspected law of nature which con-
nects offering a bushel of corn in a churchyard with
bimetallism or whatever else is at the root of the
difficulty?"
" Again, the existence of a large demand is gene-
rally a testimony to the value of an article. Would
sensible, hard-headed people, like the men of Kent,
OTFORD. 49
have gone on paying if it wasn't worth the expense?
I say no ! And what I say I stick to."
I meant to have left out this bosh of Higgins', but
he declares that its absence would damn the book.
A buxom damsel at the village directed us to St.
Edith's Well, and stated that its special virtue was
to ensure to the wayfarer a speedy desire to return
to Kemsing. The water was not tempting and of
doubtful purity. The Boy's theory was that it had
been recently employed for the village washing.
Only threats to immerse him in the viscous fluid re-
strained him from such atrocities as that " well-water
made him unwell," &c., &c. Higgins drank some
as a matter of principle, as he always insists on
having his money's worth wherever he is. I con-
sidered it enough to immerse my little finger in
the spring, in honour of St. Edith's ringer, which,
says the Chronicler, remained pure and undecayed
long after her body had crumbled to dust, because
she so frequently used the sign of the Cross.
I regard the photograph of St. Edith's Well as our
most successful picture. There is an artistic fitness
in the scene. Her statue in the church has been
thrown down, her feast-day remains unhallowed, her
very name is almost forgotten. But still the little
green containing the one object that recalls to
memory the pious, pure-minded nun is the favourite
playground of youth and innocence.
CHAPTER IV.
BY THE WAV.
PASSING through a fruit-garclen, where golden goose-
berries and rich bunches of red currants hung so near
the path that the Boy treated the eighth Command-
ment as obsolete, we came upon the road which was
henceforward to guide us to our destination. It was
only a narrow lane, scarce nine feet wide, rapidly de-
generating into a mere footpath. Soon the first of
the yew-trees was reached, and Higgins enthusiasti-
cally gathered sprigs and twined them in his sandy
locks. (This is not strictly correct, but it is a more
poetical manner of describing the bough depending
from the back of his cap as a protection against the
flies.)
The expedition had formed itself into an order
which we preserved through most of the march
through these narrow defiles. First of all strode the
Artist, as a kind of advance guard, pencil and note-
book in hand, ready to capture any stray bit -of
incident or striking example of Kentish character
that he might come across. Next, Higgins and
50
BY THE WAY. 51
myself, with the bag slung on the former's umbrella,
so as to economise the labour of transporting our.
goods. Then the Boy, manfully trudging along with
the camera slung on his back. The rear was com-
posed of the Photographer, armed with the camera
tripod and keeping a watchful eye on the Boy's
proceedings.
After a mile or two the road became a grassy lane,
hedged in on either side with overhanging bushes of
hazel and privet. The sun had already tinted a few
early nuts. Brambles and clematis threw out wreaths
of sweetly scented blossom from every thicket. Where
the hedges were not too dense, the old friend of pil-
grims, the Canterbury bell, lifted its dainty blue cups.
We \vere too late for the wild roses only the long
scarlet berries remained. Lower down, the little
resinous wood geranium was peeping frdm the banks
amid the wild strawberries and cuckoo pints. Birds
we scarcely sav\\ save for a few wagtails hopping in
the newly-mown grass ; and once a hawk, poising
in its graceful flight to swoop clown and beat with
52 \K\V WHKKLS IX <)U) RUTS.
its wings the bush which sheltered some trembling
quarry. Of the summer songsters a distant lark
alone shared the concert of nature with the humming
beetles and the whirring grasshoppers. The drowsy
insect droning is but a fit accompaniment to this
deserted way. There is something very strange and
weird in the feeling with which one follows out this
grass-grown track, through a country having a popu-
lation of four hundred to the square mile, and sees no
trace of human life. All through our journey along
the whole course of the Pilgrim's Way we never met
a soul, except when we made a slight detour to pass
through a village or visit some object of interest. It
is apparently strictly tabooed by the natives an un-
canny road, reserved for the ghosts of purposes that
have been and are no more.
If we w r ant companions on our journey we must
conjure them up through the medium of the Artist's
pencil. He must recall the ever-passing procession,
the gaily caparisoned knight on his black charger,
the rich merchant on his pillioned mule, and the
ballad-monger, the peasant, and the palmer on foot.
" But why w r ere pilgrimages so universal in the
Middle Ages ? " inquired the Photographer. " I
mean, why did people go who made no great pro-
fession of religion and, as in Chaucer, seemed to have
little devotion about them ? "
The answer would be that in a barbarous and cruel
age, an age when the conditions of life were terribly
uneqi^al, and misrule stunted all attempts to advance,
BY THK WAV.
53
the Church endeavoured to take up the task of
smoothing things out. Her unquestioned authority
enabled her to stand between the oppressor and the
oppressed, to feed the hungry, and care for the
orphan and the widow. But she did very much
more, for she fostered and protected every one of
those resources which make life worth living. Learn-
ing, art, science, owe to her alms their very existence-
She took the drama under her wing, and moulded
and shaped it till it was ready for Shakespeare
and Ben Jonson to give it the finishing touch of
genius.
And what were these pilgrimages ? They were
the only means by which the great mass of the
population could travel with safety and cheapness.
It was only under the guise of religion that people
54 NK\V WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
without great influence and a long retinue .could pass
from place to place. There was the lord of the
manor to reckon with, as well as the less authorised
robbers. But the seal of the Church set the fashion.
And in its capacity as a vast benefit society, of which
every man, woman, and child was a member, it
organised cheap excursions, establishing good hotels
on the route in the shape of monasteries, where
each man paid what he was able according to his
means.
That plumed knight and that fay re ladye came
because it was " the thing," just as modern knights
and dames " do " the Rhine or the Norway Fiords.
The merchant goes as a relaxation from the cares of
business, and most likely spends the whole time in
complaining of. the expense of the new corporation,
or grumbling that all the trade has been driven into
the hands of foreigners by the tax on wool. Perhaps,
however, he is going to buy or sell merchandise at
some town on the route, and takes the opportunity
to combine business, pleasure and just a whiff of
spiritual reflection.
That ploughman is a vassal bound never to leave
his lord's estate, unless, by making a vow of pil-
grimage, he gains the Church's alliance. That
apprentice wanted a holiday. A pilgrimage was
just the excuse to hand. The stingiest master
dared not offend against religion by refusing him
the few days necessary for a work of devotion.
"Just so," interrupted Higgins.
BY THE WAY. 55
" ' An idle apprentice named Brown
Demanded a week out of town,
And his boss, though distressed,
Durst deny no request
To go and adore Beckct's crown.' "-
" As for the palmer," I concluded, ignoring the
irreverent effusion, " he goes because palmers are
constructed to go on pilgrimages."
" This is where I come in," exclaimed the Boy.
" ' Along the old Pilgrim's Way
Tramped a Palmer in orders grey,
With his hoots full of pease,
Not because these things please,
But because he was built that way.' "
Higgins remarked that poetry always made him
hungry, and produced the sections of the ordnance
map, with a view of finding out how far we were
from a suitable halting-place. As already has been
stated, the map had been cut into squares to render
it more portable. It was unfortunate that Higgins
had forgotten whether he had numbered the squares
horizontally or perpendicularly. A rather heated
controversy ensued as to which was the next square.
" This must be the right one," decided Higgins.
" Here's Otford and Kemsing numbered nine, then
this one, No. 15, joins on. That's where we are
now, close to the cross-road, only one mile from
Red Hill."
" How can we possibly be anywhere near Red
Hill ? " I remonstrated. " We were ten miles east of
56 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
it when \ve left Otford, and have been walking due
east ever since."
" You idiot, the Ordnance map must know better
than you do ! "
I always believe in gentleness and forbearance,
even with Higgins, and continued calmly: "Cannot
some stray germs of rational faculties be found some-
where amid your undeveloped cerebral nerves to lead
you to the conclusion that you have possibly selected
the wrong section? In this first square there's a
railway running through the middle. What becomes
of it if that's the next division ? Does it finish up
in the middle of a field without going anywhere ? "
Then Higgins said he was a plain man, and didn't
interfere in railroad surveying and such matters
which were too high for him, and that if the London,
Chatham and Dover directors chose to build a rail-
way which ended up abruptly without a station when
it was supposed to go to Maidstone, he didn't see
what a hog-brained journalist had to make a fuss
about.
Meanwhile the Artist had found a new square that
fitted beautifully, railway and all. According to this,
the spot on which we now stood was only about half
a mile from Whitstablc, and within ten miles of
Canterbury itself. The Boy and the Photographer
moved the adoption of this square, as an oyster lunch
was something to look forward to with pleasurable
feelings. Higgins was alone dissatisfied, because
oysters did not come into season for at least three
UY THE WAV. 57
days. Eventually he caught sight of a distant sign-
post. By its aid a new square was discovered,
proving that we were not very far from Wrotham.
The hope of lunch lent new energy to our steps.
Presently the path ascended, and we were able to
form an opinion on the view from Wrotham Hill, said
to be one of the most beautiful in Kent.
Perhaps it never presented a more charming aspect
than in those early days of August, 1894, when the
rich hues of harvest-time combined with the fresh
green of the foliage, due to the long, wet summer.
As far as the eye could reach, over hill and dale
stretched the squares of crimson, red, gold, and vivid
yellow, with elm, beech, and poplar trees to break the
monotony of pattern, and here and there darker grey
patches of the long grass, for haymaking had scarcely
commenced, although the corn was fast ripening.
These fertile valleys owe half their beauty to
human agency. It is man who has arrayed the
ground in this robe of diverse colour, and has kept
in check the forest that once invaded the whole plain.
This presence of order, the sign of regular and
peaceful existence alike in hedge and stile, or in
cottage and church-tower, forms the peculiar charm of
English scenery. Washington Irving well remarks
that for this calm and settled beauty England must
always appeal to every visitor of Anglo-Saxon race
as " The Home Country."
CHAPTER V.
WROTHAM.
BY virtue of his office as master of the forage depart-
ment Higgins was deputed to order dinner, for, what-
ever be his other deficiencies, in this, his own special
department, he is without equal. In the matter of
the table Higgins is an indispensable guide, philo-
sopher and friend. He knows every restaurant in
Soho where French, Flemish or German dainties are
to be obtained at prices to suit every purse. On
recherche table d'/iotes he is an undisputed authority.
As for brewing punch, Higgins's concoction is so
strong that the ladle assumes an erect attitude in the
soup tureen (a punch bowl being wanting to the
furniture of our flat).
Meanwhile we had a look inside the fine old
church. It was the most interesting we had yet
come across, and for that reason the guide-books,
with scarcely one exception, omitted to make men-
tion of it. There were the ancient screens and
canons' stalls all intact, even to the candlesticks on
the former. There were piscinas, stoups and the
58
WROTH AM. 59
steps of the old chantry altars to delight an enthu-
siastic antiquary. There were numbers of monu-
mental brasses with inscriptions asking for .the
prayers for the dead, which had somehow managed
to escape the attention of any vigilant Puritan Philis-
tine. Even the altar candlesticks were apparently of
ancient date. We lingered some time in this refresh-
ing link with our predecessors ; perhaps we should
have lingered longer if the Boy. had not been so
hungry.
We found Higgins expostulating with a bare-
armed Hebe who would have been charmingly pretty
if she had not looked so stupid.
"Can't we have some cold beef, then?" said
Higgins.
" Oh, if you had only come yesterday ! " cried the
girl, in despair.
" Look here, you fellows," said Higgins, turning
to us. " There's no fowls, no roast beef, no roast
mutton in fact, I can't make out what there is."
" Let's have some steak," suggested the Boy.
" There'll be a bull killed next Monday," said the
girl, brightening up, as if this was an obvious way
out of the difficulty.
" Fairest damsel," said I, interposing. " Next time
we visit this matchless house of entertainment we
will remember to arrive yesterday or the week after.
But on this visit we come in the garb of pilgrims
mere ephemeral visitors, here to-day and gone
to-morrow.'
6o
XKW WI1KKI.S IN OLD RUTS.
" Stop a bit," cried Higgins. " Let me have one
last shot. What are you going to have yourself for
dinner, my dear ? "
The girl admitted that there was some cold ham.
We were saved. It is rather
irritating to climb down from
Higgins' menu to a meal off
cold ham. But we were
hungry, and with the addi-
tion of some home-made
pickles and some Welsh
cheese, washed down by that
Kentish ale which is sur-
passed in no part of the
world, we did very well.
During the repast a warrior
came into the bar arrayed
in Hussar tunic, forage cap
of the Grenadiers, Army
Service trousers much too
short and elastic side boots.
We adjudged him to be
the drummer of the local
band. He was evidently
amorous of our fair attendant, who displayed a rustic
fund of wit and repartee in dealing with him that led
us to reconsider our verdict on her supposed stupidity.
Higgins said every one has a forte if you can only
find it out. He had an uncle who was so stupid that
he had to get his wife to write his letters for him.
\YKOTI I AM. 6 1
who never read any newspapers, never had any
opinions on any subject, never even knew who was
going to win the Derby in fact, was a perfect idiot.
Yet that man could balance a tin whistle on the tip
of his nose with a skill that would make the Arch-
bishop of Canterbury turn green with envy.
The Photographer wanted to change plates, as he
was running short. On inquiry we were referred to
the ostler, who said he could show us a splendid
" dark room," in which we could change them without
fear of " premature exposure." Accordingly he con-
ducted us to the stable. When this was objected to
on the ground that, even if light had not penetrated
through an entrance five feet wide and unprovided
with a door, there were numberless holes in the root
through which the sun was shining with all its might,
he was quite unabashed. He found us another
apartment, which, supposing it had been light tight,
would have been unsuitable for other and more
delicate reasons. So it was decided with reluctance
not to risk a plate on the interior of Wrotham
Church.
A tramp of two miles along the dusty high-road,
and then into a wayside inn to inquire the nearest
way to the Stone Circle at Addington, which we had
special permission to visit. We derived some edifica-
tion from the remarks of the rustics, to whom it was
quite a new experience to find that any one was
interested in the " stones."
" Qud Johnny Foord ought to be yere. He did
62 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
think of they stouns, clearing away the bushes from
them, and dusting off the moss."
" Man and boy I've seed they stouns sixty year,"
remarked one old oracle, sententiously. " And mor',
feyther never knew the man whot put them theyre."
Asked if he had any theory respecting who placed
them there, he replied in the negative. It must have
taken a traction engine and several men to have got
them in position. The stones were just there, and
must be taken for better or worse, like the rain that
had spoilt the best hay crop he ever seed, and the
Parish Councils Bill, which he didn't understand.
Still, he showed us a footpath which shortened our
journey considerably. It led us near the bed of a
" nailborne," or intermittent spring, which, according
to Hasted, whenever it bursts out, causes the trout in
the Leybourne river to be red instead of white.
There seems to be something in the soil of Kent to
fire the imagination and impel the pedestrian to
beguile the tedium of the way with truthful anec-
dote. The simple incident of a common grass snake
darting across our path inspired our usually matter-
of-fact Photographer to make an effort at fiction.
" An old gentleman once lived at Sydenham. He
was dreadfully afraid of snakes. He never ventured
out of doors during the summer for a walk, for fear
he should be bitten. I believe he had had some
dream, or some gipsy had prophesied something on
the subject. Well, one day a hamper of bananas was
sent him, and while he was unpacking it a beastly
WROTHAM. 63
little whip-snake, hardly three inches long, darted out
of the basket and stung him, so that he died within
ten minutes. It's perfectly true. I know a fellow
who has seen the house it happened at."
Higgins thought he could beat that story. He
had an uncle who was in great request at masonic
banquets. One evening this uncle returned home
about 3 a.m. from a special function in a more than
usually hilarious condition, and for some reason or
other went down into the kitchen. To his horror,
the whole place appeared to be swarming with snakes.
Seized with remorse, he went upstairs and forthwith
registered a most terrible, irrevocable vow that he
would never touch intoxicating liquors again. In
the morning he discovered that a friend had sent him
a hamper of live eels, and, their prison not being a
very secure one, they had ventured out to explore the
neighbourhood.
The Boy said that if he had an uncle, about whom
he could not tell a better snake story than that, he
would brain him with a meat axe.
The country now began to assume a wilder appear-
ance. We were no longer in fertile Holmsdale, and
the high banks of wild flowers and hazels had given
place to bracken and such sombre trees as can exist
on a barren sandy soil. We were entering a strange
region, a weird and mystic holy ground. For this
pilgrims' way which we were traversing is far older
than the days of St. Thomas, It was the highway by
which pilgrims of a long extinct race came, on the
6 4
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
one side from the West country, and on the other side
from Sandwich or Dover, to assist in the rites of a
religion stamped out of existence by the Roman con-
querors of Britain. The whole district from Adding-
ton to Boxley, and from Mailing to Snodland seven
or eight miles in each direction is one vast cemetery
and sacred ground of these early peoples. Every-
where are to be found remains of cromlechs, stone
circles, deep unexplored caverns ; an avenue of stones
appears to line the sacred way from Addington to
Kit's Coity House. Addington Church is placed on
what Mr. Wright declares to be a veritable pyramid,
similar to those found in Central America.
The Stone Circle in Addington Park, which, we
had made a detour to visit, is of oval shape, and
seventeen stones may still be traced. Probably it
was a place of tribal assembly, one stone representing
each family, as in the days of the Israelites. Hard
by is a shapeless mass of overturned stones, each
WROTHAM. 65
immense in size. Colebrook, in a volume of the
Arch&ologia, suggests that this is the tomb of
Catigern, the British hero who was killed in the
battle of Aylesford, when the Britons under Vorti-
gern opposed the landing of the Jutes, commanded
by Horsa, who was also slain, and whose tomb he
supposes to be at Kit's Coity House. This may be,
but it is more probably the Druidical altar of the
tribe who assembled at the Circle.
But all speculation here seems thrown away. It is
even difficult to feel any very deep or lasting interest
in the remains in their present state. Could we have
imagined them in the days of old, with some pic-
turesque ceremony in progress, or recalled the scene
when the Romans burst the stockade and butchered
the half-naked barbarians, we might have been better
satisfied. But there is practically nothing to help the
fancy in the work of reconstruction. The storms of
two thousand years have worn away the soft stones
and the hillocks on which they rest, and drifts of sand
have buried them till they are hardly noticeable
above the ground amidst the bracken and weeds.
The natives have found here a convenient quarry for
house-building and road-mending purposes. Even
Mark Twain, who shed copious tears over the tomb
of Adam, would fail to squeeze out one saline drop in
a case like this. A man cannot fairly be expected to
be sentimental without having something definite to
be sentimental about.
The Boy's face brightened for a moment when he
5
66
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
learnt that Roman-British coins arc occasionally
found here. With a little encouragement and a
spade he would have staked out a claim and started
in business as a golddigger. Higgins found in one
of the guide-books
that at Ryarsh, a
mile or two to the
north, there were
/ deep pits with sub-
terranean passages
not yet explored.
With some ropes
and a few candles
he thought the party
might acquire some
glory and perhaps
wealth. But we were
already beginning to
view guide - books
with distrust.
So strong was our feeling of disappointment that
it was not without some secret relief that we dis-
covered that we had left Addington Church too far
on the right. W T e resolutely declined to go back and
inspect it, even though it bears on its tower the
following unique inscription :
" In fourteen hundred and none
Here was neither stick nor stone.
In fourteen hundred and three
The goodly building which you sec."
f - '.
CHAPTER VI.
LKAVKS FROM A CANNIBAL COOKERY HOOK.
"WANT a lift?"
This was a seasonable interruption to a heated
discussion on the route given in the Ordnance map.
Turning round, we saw a benevolent-looking, white-
haired clergyman, seated in an open carriage. He
was going nearly as far as Aylcsford.
" I think I can squeeze in all your party," he con-
tinued.
Without a pang we gave up all idea of visiting
Mailing Abbey, and, regardless of the look of re-
proach which the horse turned upon us, we scrambled
in.
Our benefactor turned out to be a most chatty and
amiable old gentleman. He agreed with our conclu-
sions with regard to the Stone Circle, and our tribal
theory he was able to support by instances of similar
remains which he had examined in the South Sea
Islands, where he had resided for some time, and
where almost similar altars to the one at Addington
were at the beginning of the present century, he
68 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
declared, used for human sacrifices. It was like
Higgins' impudence to here introduce a silly and
pointless story about an uncle of his who went out as
a missionary to Timbuctoo. He had lost one eye as
a boy. They heard nothing about him for some
years, till at last an exploring party came across a
rusty old cauldron with a glass eye sticking to the
bottom, so that it was inferred that this was the
remains of Higgins' uncle. With the laudable object
of shaming Higgins, I told an artless little tale about
a relative of mine who went out as a missionary.
One day the natives informed him that he was to be
invited to a banquet at which it was proposed that he
should serve as the principal piece de resistance. My
relative fortunately possessed great presence of mind
and a wooden leg. The latter he unscrewed and
offered to the cook, saying that they might have the
rest of him presently. The leg not proving exactly
palatable or digestible, it was decided to remove
stewed missionary from the menu.
A smile crossed the face of our entertainer. " My
young friends, if you will pardon me for saying so, I
fear your stories are not quite in accordance with
fact. Still, whether or no, my own experiences are
much stranger. Truth is always more startling than
fiction. Some years ago, when I was returning to my
labours from a cruise, our vessel anchored for a day
or two off the coast of New Guinea to take in water,
and hearing that the king of that district was only a
few miles' journey from that spot, I decided to pay a
LEAVES FROM A CANNIBAL COOKERY HOOK. 69
visit. A very intelligent and agreeable young man
named Down volunteered to accompany me. His
majesty, a genial and portly old savage, received us
with the greatest politeness, and ushered us into a
cool palm-thatched shed, telling us in broken English
that dinner would be served in an hour or two. After
he had rested for a while, Down remarked that he
would like to go out and have a look round the
village. I remained behind, as I felt drowsy on
account of the heat.
" I was awakened by the dinner-bell. A most
excellent repast was set on the table, and the king
and I set to work to demolish it. One of the dishes
was particularly delicate and appetising, and in hand-
ing my plate up for a third helping I inquired of his
majesty where he could have obtained such excellent
mutton.
" ' Golly, massa,' his majesty replied with a bland
expression, as if most gratifying information was
being conveyed, ' Dat are de young massa what with
you come.'
" It was impossible, of course, for me to show any
offence, as the old rascal evidently thought that he
was paying me the highest possible compliment.
But you may imagine that I took the earliest oppor-
tunity to decamp, and ever since I have been unable
to touch South Down mutton.
" But my most peculiar experience of this kind," con-
tinued the old gentleman, " was in a small harbour in
one of the Society Islands. When we arrived we
7O NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
found that the whole population was keeping holiday.
All the natives were arrayed in the newest bathing
costumes, flags were flying, tom-toms beating, and
blunderbusses exploding in all directions. I asked
one of the native boatmen to inform me of the nature
of the solemnity. His reply was to smack his chubby
lips and point with glee to a rakish brigantine flying
the American flag. Subsequent investigation proved
that this vessel was laden with a dainty highly
esteemed in this part of the world. Now, gentlemen,
three guesses apiece tell me if you can in what that
delicacy consisted ? "
We named every conceivable dainty frogs, snails,
curry powder, rats, and potato parings.
" You will never guess it," said the old gentleman,
at length. " In fact, I should never have believed it,
if I had not actually witnessed it with my own eyes.
The vessel was full, gentlemen, of mummies
Egyptian mummies."
There were no more interruptions from the abashed
Higgins. And as our narrator rambled on through
every subject of interest, we listened reverently and
attentively, for he knew we were in the presence of
the past master of an art in which we were mere
dabbling amateurs.
" And now, gentlemen, this is where we must part,"
said the old clergyman, as the carnage stopped out-
side a pretty rose-embowered cottage. " That is,
unless you care to come in and have a cup of tea."
We were all accepting with alacrity, but a meaning
LEAVES FROM A CANNIBAL COOKERY P.OOK. /I
look from the coachman caught my eye, and I pleaded
that we were due elsewhere, and did not know our
way in the dark (it was now past sunset). So we
shook hands with the dear old fellow, and promised
to call on some other occasion, and to send him a full
set of photographs.
As soon as a man-servant had taken charge of him
at the cottage, the coachman volunteered a few words
of explanation. The old clergyman was a lunatic.
He had been an extremely earnest missionary years
ago, and after most successful labours in the Anti-
podes, he had returned to take a living in Eng-
land. Then a very cruel case of deceit occurred to
him, and after being used to the simple God-fearing
savages, the shock of such wickedness in Christian
England turned his brain. Frivolous conversation
is his only resource against terrible fits of depres-
sion, and his keepers for that reason never object to
him entertaining strangers when not in a dangerous
mood.
" But what wonderful gifts wasted," sighed the
Artist. " How many men in Fleet Street would think
all his sorrows too dear a price to pay for such an
imagination ? "
CHAPTER VII.
IN QUEST OF THE "UPPER BELL."
THE shades of night were falling fast as we crossed
the Medway by the ancient bridge and tramped
through Aylesford, chiefly memorable for its priory*
where the first house of the Carmelites was estab-
lished in England under St. Simon Stock. There
are some pretty bits of riverside architecture so far
as we could judge in the twilight, and one of the
guide-books asserted that the church and town were
beautifully situated on the slope of the hill. It was
too dark for us to ascertain the correctness of this
statement, although Higgins wasted nearly half a box
of fusees in a vain attempt to prove it.
Guide-book writers absurdly misunderstand their
duties when they begin telling us what we ought to
admire. We expect to find in a guide-book informa-
tion with regard to facts, where things are, and how
to get there. The rest is our own province, and it is
impertinent to bias our judgment by introducing
rhapsodies about one place, or contemptuous remarks
about another. " Quot homines, tot sententice."
IN QUEST OF THE " UPPER BELL." 73
When the guide criticises he ceases to be a reliable
authority, speaking ex cathedra, and becomes a biased
individual. A fatal element of uncertainty is at once
introduced. We are left in doubt whether his
admiration or the reverse is due to
(1) Circumstances of time and place.
(2) Circumstances of association.
(3) Circumstances of expediency.
Each of these heads will allow of several subdi-
visions. Under ( i ) we have to consider : (c?) The
remote possibility that the object or view is really
interesting. (//) Whether, perhaps, the writer hit
upon some particular spot, or time of the year when
the effect is specially striking. (Y) His own personal
condition ; particularly whether he had just partaken
of a sumptuous repast, and good digestion had pre-
pared him to feel exhilaration at anything and every-
thing. This last might also be said to belong to our
second head.
Under circumstances of association we may specu-
late on the fortune or misfortune which may have
occurred to him in connection with the locality. The
possible subdivisions are innumerable.
Men of taste usually hold up Gower Street to
reprobation as a hideous example of ugliness and
monotony even among London thoroughfares. As-
sociation has given it, to me, a sublimity in which La
Rambla at Barcelona is lacking.
She was attending the same lectures at University
College when I was reading for my degree ; she was
74 NEW WIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
at least ten years my senior, and I have been since
told that she looked it. Nevertheless, the first time
that dainty figure sailed into the class-room, and those
dark-lashed gipsy eyes looked coyly into mine, I
hauled down the flag and surrendered.
Shortly afterwards I began to deviate about two
miles from the direct route from Hampstead to
University Street. One of the other girls was a
schoolfellow of my sisters, and then we made the
astonishing discovery that Gower Street was on the
way home for all three.
We were not allowed to sit together at lectures.
The harsh rules of an unsympathetic faculty forbade
it. But there were ten minutes each morning and
ten minutes each evening, twenty minutes every day
of happy communing to look forward to in dear old
Gower Street.
Even after that tall, swarthy idiot turned up and
was introduced to me as her fiance, Gower Street
was still an attractive vale, where my grief-stricken
heart could bleed anew in silent anguish and brood
on blighted memories.
We met again the other day, and now the thought
of my lucky escape fills me with joy. Wlienever I
feel doleful, whenever a fit of depression seizes me, I
fly for comfort to glorious old Gower Street.
To return to our sheep I mean the leaders of
those silly mortals who consider it their duty to
endorse the statements in guide-books and condemn
the honest Smelfungus. We have still Section 3
IN QUEST OF THE " UITKR HKI.L." 75
to consider, viz., circumstances of expediency. Our
guide may possibly have some private knife to grind.
He may be a shareholder in the railway forming the
only means of access to the spot, or he may own some
land or even an hotel in the district. Or he may
have not had time to visit the place himself, and have
taken the opinion of somebody else, whose status
may again be classified under one or other of the
heads which I have suggested.
The worst part of all is when the guide-book adds
injury to insult by proceeding to give imperfect or
erratic information on indispensable matters of fact.
We were one and a half miles from the " Upper
Bell," so the guide-book, the Ordnance map, and
the landlord of the " Sun " agreed in informing us.
So we wended our way along a very straight road,
congratulating ourselves on the labours of the day
and their speedy termination. But, after walking
two miles in complete darkness, it was considered
desirable to make further inquiries. Accordingly, we
asked a ploughman homeward bound how far we
were from the " Upper Bell." The answer was one
and a half miles.
We walked three more miles, as far as we could
calculate, and decided to rest awhile. Two of the
pilgrims were missing. Higgins struck a match and
consulted the Ordnance map. It is probably due to
an error as to the correct square, that he found we
were in the middle of Romney Marsh ! Just then
we perceived lights ahead. The Artist, who had been
/6 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
in this neighbourhood before, said that these were the
lights of the " Upper Bell." We put our best feet
forward and soon overtook the lights. These were
found to be produced by fusees which the two missing
pilgrims were burning as signals of distress. Higgins,
after climbing up a sign-post and deciphering nothing,
again consulted the Ordnance map, and moved that
we camp out on the spot, as there was no habitation
marked anywhere within ten miles. But the others
decided to push on, as a cold mist was beginning to
fall.
We inquired of a rural couple who strolled by
lovingly arm in arm how far we were from the " Upper
Bell." The answer was one and a half miles.
So we stumbled up a steep, stony hill, and along
two miles of footpath, passing on the way a cromlech
which looked too gigantic and ghostly to take rest
under. Then some rough steps brought us into
the high road, and an asthmatic tramp informed us
that we were one and a half miles from the " Upper
Bell."
We walked on briskly, although our nether limbs
were growing stiff, and a fog was rapidly gathering
as the road ascended steeply, and we were beginning
to feel very cold and hungry. A terrible misgiving
had seized me. I had secured rooms at the " Upper
Bell" on the suggestion of the guide-book? Was this
" Upper Bell " a grisly rustic jest, some terrible legen-
dary spectral inn that receded as the traveller hurried
forward to reach it ? I had to reprove the Artist for
IN QUEST OF THE " UPPER HELL." //
humming " Excelsior " in a minor key, because it
tended so much to depress one's spirits. The Photo-
grapher told us he had read a story about some
travellers in the Black Forest, who inquired of a
shepherd the way to an inn, and for a joke the
shepherd told them the way, although he knew that
the inn had been burnt down some years before.
They were found the next morning dead, with the
marks of diabolic fingers burnt into their throats.
I cannot say what would have ever become of us
had we not at this moment overtaken the village
policeman. The " Upper Bell " was still one and a half
miles off, but we knew that the powers of darkness,
sirens, ghouls, or whatever they may be, become
impotent and flee in terror at the advent of a repre-
sentative of law or order. Under his wing our
spirits revived, and hope returned to cheer us. Soon
the sound of revelry, the chant of comic choruses,
and the chinking of glasses made itself heard through
the mist. A few minutes more and we had reached
the " Upper Bell."
Higgins solemnly promised to commit the
Ordnance map to the flames at an early oppor-
tunity.
CHAPTER VIII.
TIIK " UI'I'KR 15ELL."
" TlIKKE is nothing which has been yet contrived by
man, by which so much happiness is produced, as by
a good tavern or inn." The " Upper Bell " was just
such a good old-fashioned house of entertainment for
THE " UPPER BELL."
79
man and beast as Dr. Johnson must have had in his
mind when he uttered that immortal axiom. It is an
inn worthy of being mentioned only with houses of
the highest rank in legendary lore, such as are
provided for Mr. Pickwick. In quaintness it might
vie with the " Maypole " at Chigwell ; for good fare
with the " Crown " at Rochester, and inns of a class
that have passed away from the memory of all but
the readers of Dickens. Our series of one and a
half mile tramps were no longer regretted ; well
repaid was the climb up the steep acclivities of
Bluebell Hill to a height of 2,000 feet above the sea.
(The Ordnance map says 450 feet, but we know that
the Ordnance map is wrong).
We were expected. Still better, we were welcomed.
A wash under the pump in a mysterious apartment
dedicated principally to butter churns and home-
made jam prepared us for a hearty supper. Then we
wandered downstairs into a long room in the south
wing, where a village concert was in progress. While
8o
NEW WIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
a gaily-dressed gipsy-girl detailed to the assembled
company, with the assistance of the piano, her dreams
of her little boy, the Artist made furtive sketches of
the audience. In one corner a private and a plough-
boy had exchanged headgear in token of ebrious
amity, and were reclining arm in arm. On a table
opposite sat a Chatham variety of the Cockney
species with green
boughs of privet and
blackthorn stuck into
every available cre-
vice in his garment
and hat, producing a
certain hybrid effect
not usually heard of
outside Ovid's Meta-
morphoses. Hard
by was an elderly
grizzled weed of a
labourer,whose efforts
to obtain liquor at a
minimum expense to
himself were a source
Every newcomer was greeted with
drink out of his mug. On exa-
mination the guest invariably discovered that the
vessel was empty, and thereupon felt bound to stand
the price of its refilling. We saw this device success-
fully sprung upon at least seven people during the
quarter of an hour before the heat of the room and
of entertainment,
an invitation to
THE " UPPER BELL."
8l
the noise induced us to retreat to an upper chamber
where we held a concert on our own account.
Higgins discovered that he was a pianist, and the
Boy's rich tenor voice in classical melody was in-
expressibly soothing. But an adjournment to bed
was voted after the Boy had attempted a comic song.
He laughed so much that it was quite impossible
to understand the subject.
The buxom, motherly housekeeper ushered us into
bedrooms adorned with quaint old prints of the
" Fool's Marriage,"
and queer religious
pictures of a Spanish
type. The bedsteads
were unique carved
four-posters, c u r-
tained all round,
and with balda-
chinos of semi-eccle-
siastical pattern.
N
The Artist, as he re-
tired into his enclosure and sank with a sigh of con-
tent into the depths of the soft bed, muttered that in
his dreams he should be a canonised saint at rest in
some stately shrine. In but as long as it takes to
write the words, the expedition was wrapt in slumber
regardless of the wind and rain that beat upon the
casements of the " Upper Bell " ominous prospect
for the morrow ! What cared we in those delicious
soft valleys of calico? Our labours well concluded
6
82
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
for the day, we slept the sleep of the just under those
beatifying canopies !
Thus ran my dream : Within a massive gold frame
I saw a canvas. Instinctively I knew that the picture
must be one of entrancing beauty, but it was so en-
crusted with dirt and age that no traces of its subject
were visible. Some of those that stood by cried,
" Let us fetch water and wash off this dirt, that we
may see once more the portrait of the great Master."
Near at hand was a well. Eager volunteers filled
buckets with the water, and started to scrub off seme
of the dirt. Presently I was able to discern the
features of a man in the prime of life. Still the work
seemed old and faded ; only by a stretch of imagina-
tion could one recall the fine features and kingly
expression that I knew ought to be there.
Then one of my companions said, " The water you
have brought is too muddy and impure for our pur-
THE " UPPER HELL. 83
pose. It came from the Well of Hearsay. Before
we can perceive the true picture we must procure
water from the Well of Truth."
A few of the more adventurous started forth at his
bidding. But the Well of Truth was deep, and its
sides precipitous and difficult to climb. Moreover,
they were coated with liquid tar. Nearly every one
spilt their water before they had succeeded in regain-
ing the level ground. At last one young man succeeded
in moistening his handkerchief in the water of Truth,
and returned eagerly to test its virtue on the picture.
Alas ! He was too zealous. His first vigorous rub
revealed one streak of exquisite colour, but beside
it was a smear of tar from the sides of the well. " He
is ruining our picture," cried the others in dismay.
" The Water of Hearsay at least enabled us to guess
at the real beauty. But this foolish wretch has defiled
our treasure."
Then commenced a scene of confusion. Some tried
to seize the offender, others took his part. Blows
were freely given and returned. Louder and louder
grew the tumult.
I awoke with a start. A deadly conflict, with yells
"V
and groans, was really going on 'in the next room,
occupied by the Photographer, trie Boy and Higgins.
The Artist was already out of bed, and was just groping
for the matches.
Ages seemed to pass before we succeeded in light-
ing the candle, and hastily entered the adjacent
84
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
apartment to find the Photographer holding Higgins
down on the floor and pummelling him heartily. Not
without considerable exertion and injury to the furni-
ture we separated the combatants and instituted an
immediate court of inquiry.
Higgins declared that he had been dreaming that
he was an ancient Druid engaged in sacrificing a
golden calf on the altar in the Sacred Grove at
Addington. Just as he had lit up the sacred pyre,
the victim jumped up
and bit him on the
nose. And then
several other golden
calves, who were wait-
ing their turn, had
set upon him and
knocked him about
unmercifully.
The Photographer
said that all he remembered was hearing, in a
dream as he supposed, cries of distress. On rush-
ing to the spot he found the housekeeper was being
carried off by the drummer of miscellaneous uniform.
The latter, without provocation, had struck him in
the face, and so, of course he had retaliated. He
was quite surprised to find that he had been fight-
ing with Higgins, and apologised humbly for the
mistake. The entire party now proceeded to examine
the Boy, and torture elicited the following particulars.
The Boy was not accustomed to be in such a strange
THE " UPPER BELL." 85
kind of bed, entirely surrounded with curtains. He
felt lonely and could not sleep. Idleness finally led
to mischief. Creeping softly between the beds, and
pulling the curtains aside, he had first tweaked
Higgins' nose, and then slapped the Photographer
in the face. Each starting up had collided with the
other.
To secure against any repetition of these distur-
bances, we placed Higgins in the other room as far as
possible from the Photographer, and locked the Boy
in a third room which happened to be unoccupied.
Peace having been thus restored, the haven of happy
dreams was again reached, and we snored rhythmically
till a knock at the door informed us that it was past
nine o'clock.
CHAPTER IX.
WAYSIDK MUSINGS.
ONCE upon a time there was a Colonel who had
grown old, and had retired from active service to
spend his declining years in lying about his ancient
prowess, and drawing his half-pay. Every morning
his valet had instructions to wake him precisely at
eight a.m. and inform him that it was time for Parade,
in order that he might enjoy the ineffable bliss of
turning over on his other side and murmuring, " U m
Parade."
We had agreed overnight, if the weather permitted,
to rise somewhere about half-past seven and start off
immediately, so as to make the best use of the morn-
ing. But at nine o'clock we were still in bed, although
the sun was shining brightly in at our windows, and
all nature wore her sweetest smile. She seemed to
be trying to convince us " That storm of rain last
night was all imagination on your part. Come out
and see how dry the grass is. Only listen how joyful
a song the lark and the thrush are singing." Ah, but it
is so much nicer in bed, and I withstood her advances
WAYSIDE MUSINGS. 87
till the Artist put the nasty cold sponge into my bed.
Then I arose and donned my vesture, at the same
time forcibly remarking on the impropriety of these
practical jokes.
Some people are lazy, to be sure ! The language
of Higgins and the Photographer was quite unneces-
sarily vulgar when I gently inserted the sponge
beneath each coverlet, and sat on the bed to assist the
cool refreshing stream in trickling down their arms
and necks. How any one could want to be sluggishly
snoring when by just getting up he could behold such
an exquisite view from his bedroom window is more
than I can understand !
When we had gone downstairs and across the dip
of the road to the brink of the hill, the full glories of
the scene, once dearest to the heart of Charles Dickens,
burst upon us. It is not so rich in colour as the view
from Wrotham Hill, but more grand and complete.
Beneath us was a level wooded plain of triangular
shape. Towards the south, it extended broader and
broader, vanishing into the distant mists, but on every
other side it was closed in by hills ever diverse in
shape and garniture, here grassy undulating slopes,
there rising in rugged grandeur, limestone boulders
elbowing with the herbage, and again wooded up to
the summit. And through all wound the silver Med-
way glistening in the sun past mansion and tower, kiln
and spire. Therein is the glory of Kentish scenery,
rich wealds and chalk downs ; Kent has no hills or
rivers like the Alps or the Amazon. The charm of
88 NEW WHEKLS IN OLD RUTS.
its scenery is not due to bigness but to finish and
refinement ; as well as an exquisite proportion which
conceals deficiencies in actual dimensions.
What appetites we have acquired after breathing
a country atmosphere for just twenty-four hours !
Only a day or two before I had seen Higgins
toying leisurely with a chef d'oeuvre of Cafe Royal
cookery, and finally send it away half finished. But,
oh ! to see how fast the eggs and bacon disappeared.
And the coffee. Again and again the jugs were
replenished, till the landlord stood aghast, warning us
that he had not more than half a dozen pounds in
the house, and that the nearest grocer was three miles
off, and that it was Sunday !
I must own that I have a considerable weakness for
coffee. Not that black, bitter preparation affected on
the other side of the Channel, and which the man
who has taken a cheap excursion to Paris ever after-
wards professes to like but real, genuine English
coffee, manufactured from burnt peas and scarlet
runners, well seasoned with chicory. It is my one
vice that I cannot resist the seductions of this fluid.
I intend some day to have this text, " Coffee is a
Mocker," illuminated in gold and colours, and hung
in my bedroom where I may be reminded of its
precepts each night that I retire to rest, and where
each morning those truthful words may greet my
waking eyes.
A young acquaintance of mine was appointed to
a newspaper of the description known as a " trade
WAYSIDE MUSINGS. 89
journal." It was part of his duty to accompany the
gentleman who looked after the advertisement depart-
ment and " write up " the advantages of such wares
as were advertised in the paper. One fine morning
the pair started forth. At the first firm that they
called upon, the manager invited them to a neigh-
bouring tavern, where they imbibed several glasses of
bitter ale. Further on the junior partner of another
well-known house was induced to join them in similar
potations. The next call was on one of their best
customers, and he declined to allow any less hilarious
vintage than champagne to be discussed in his com-
pany. About mid-day they adjourned to a trysting-
place, where newspaper advertisement canvassers do
much congregate, and exchanged sundry " smiles "
with these brethren. In the afternoon they had an
appointment with a famous whisky distiller, and it
was necessary to sample his wares to a considerable
extent. Afterwards they proceeded to a foreign
wine-shop, where some Hollands was necessary to
take away the taste of the whisky.
Now, my friend assures me that up to this time he
was perfectly sober and clear-headed. In fact, his
careful and voluminous shorthand notes, and neatly-
docketed labels and circulars corroborate his evi-
dence. But a remorseless decree of fate led them
to call on a gentleman who professed so-called
temperance principles, and invited them to drink
his health in coffee. Then a charitable policeman
took pity on them and put them in a cab. He found
9O M-;\V \VIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
the address of the office in a card-case which was
sticking out of the canvasser's pocktt ; otherwise he
would not have known where to direct the cabman
to drive to. The coffee had made them hopelessly
drunken and senseless paralytics.
To me was confided the sad task of taking that
young man home to his doting parents. What tears
of sorrow they wept as he was carried up to bed and
left to sleep off his potation. When I informed
them that coffee had produced this disastrous result,
they shook their heads and told me that I was a
heartless trifler. That is the worst of it. Nobody
can be persuaded how dangerously intoxicating this
insinuating hypocrite of a beverage coffee is.
When we had made such a splendid " dark room "
to change the plates in, by holding up the bed-clothes
over the window, it was not the Artist's clumsiness
that caused the chair to slip at the worst possible
moment, and so spoil our views of the Medway
Valley. The Photographer need not have suggested
that it was my fault for getting up just then and
allowing Higgins to acquire momentum by the force
of gravitation. It was all the fault of the coffee,
which had made the party unreasonable and destitute
in foresight.
Our bill was the next consideration. It surprised
us. The landlord said that he made a principle of
not overcharging pilgrims, but considering that we
had eaten all his bacon, and kept all the household
engaged in brewing coffee for upwards of two hours,
WAYSIDE MUSINGS. 91
it would be unjust to his business to make it less
than it was. We agreed with him.
I will not give the details of that bill, because I
should probably lose a reputation for veracity which
this chronicle has hitherto carefully preserved. But
this I will say. All you pilgrims who have but a few
pounds to spend on your holiday, and do not object
to old-fashioned ways and tolerable cooking in the
midst of lovely scenery and soft, balmy, invigorating
air, pack up your changes of raiment and seek the
" Upper Bell." And if you stop as long as your
money lasts, you will have enjoyed a long holiday.
CHAPTER X.
CATIGKRN AND HORSA.
BEFORE I had seen Kit's Coity House, I had always
supposed that the great problem regarding it was by
what mechanical methods it could possibly have been
erected. The pictures and the descriptions in guide-
books or archaeological journals lead one to expect a
stupendous erection that would have been impossible
unless high scientific knowledge, or, as one enthu-
CATIGERN AND HORSA. 93
siast suggests, the Ice Age had come to the rescue.
In reality, the boulders of which it is composed are
only sufficiently large to have prevented for say
two thousand years any one attempting the task of
carting it away. . Given some twenty able-bodied
labourers under the direction of a foreman sufficiently
versed in the art of appropriate objurgations, and
there is no difficulty in fixing up on end three blocks
of stone averaging eight feet in length, and then
placing a slab twelve feet long on the top, provided
that there was a definite object accomplished. The
only problem is to find that object.
Of course the simplest solution would be to regard
the cromlech as a Druid altar, were it not that the
Druids were much better masons than the builders of
Kit's Coity House. The stones have never been
squared, and there is no attempt at mortising the
supports to the covering stone. Besides, there is
something so dry and hackneyed about Druid altars,
so unattractively vague, that we cannot be satisfied
with the explanation. A more picturesque idea
associates the monument with the great scene in
Kentish history, which was enacted on these slopes
above Aylesford, the battle between the invading
Jutes under Hengist and Horsa, and the Britons
under Vortimer.
Vortigern, the British king, had won a glorious
victory over the Picts and Scots with the aid of the
Northern pirates, and the mead bowl circulated
bravely round the festive board at Lindum, where
94 NKW WIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
the heroes celebrated their success. At the banquet
there appeared before the dazzled eyes of the king
a vision of beauty as fair as the angels of paradise.
Rowcna, the golden-haired daughter of Hengist,
stood before him. Filling a golden goblet with wine,
she touched it with her lips and wished him health.
Then, kneeling at his feet, she presented the cup to
the royal guest. At once he loved her, and desired
her for his queen. Hengist consented, and received
from the doting Vortigern the Isle of Thanet.
Act 2 shows the Isle of Thanet becoming too
crowded by reason of the vast hordes of hungry
Jutes who hurried over to possess it. They cast a
longing eye on the peaceful vales across the Stour.
A pretext for war is easily found. And so, one
summer evening, seventeen ships discharge five
thousand warriors at Rochester, who march along
the eastern bank of the Medway. They put up at
the " Upper Bell," and severely tax the resources of
that already famous hostelry.
In the morning word is brought by a trusty scout
that the Britons are encamped in the valley to with-
stand their advance. " To arms ! " they cry, eager for
the fray. But either their intellects have been con-
fused by too copious draughts of coffee at breakfast,
or else the Britons trained in Roman tactics receive
them with the dreaded testudo. Their ranks are
broken, and they retreat demoralised to the hillside.
Again they rally for a fierce onslaught ; again they
are ignominously repulsed.
CATIGERN AM) IIORSA. 95
But hark ! A Saxon bard advances chanting the
praises of the great Horsa. His totem is the sea-
horse, whose mane of foam is the tempest, and whose
bridle is the wide Western gale. Who will accept the
challenge of the invincible Horsa ?
Scarce has his song concluded when a slight figure
approaches from the ranks of the Britons, and with
savage laughter the wild ocean buccaneers perceive
that he is but a stripling. Will the great giant Horsa
engage with boys ? But young Catigern stands there
devoid of fear awaiting the coming of his challenger.
And, like some hawk swooping upon a sparrow, the
great red-haired giant rushes forward, as if by mere
weight he would crush to the earth his audacious
enemy.
But Catigern stands his ground bravely, confident
in the training of his fencing-master, one who had
earned his reputation in the gladiatorial combats at
Dorchester. The German's lunges and circular
swoops are warded off easily with simple guards in
tierce and carte. No one is hurt in the first round.
Horsa becomes excited, he will get at that ridiculous
little enemy, who slips about so actively and is all
muscle and litheness. He swings his weapon furi-
ously around. Ah ! Nothing can resist that ! He
is going to decapitate the vermin !
Not at all ! Catigern neatly ducks, and while the
great sword whistles above his head, he pinks his
opponent, jerking aside the shield. Only a flesh
wound. But it is first blood.
9 6
NK\V WHKKI.S IN OLD RUTS.
The next round is a brilliant display of science.
Catigern knows by this time all his antagonist's
methods, and teases him with endless octaves, round
parades, and double counters. Parrying a more than
usually powerful drawing cut, the tempered steel
snaps. The heroes throw away the useless hilts
and draw
their daggers.
Each grasps the right
wrist of the other. Weight and mature sinew is
now going to tell against supple youth and skill.
Slowly and surely the German giant is forcing his
blade towards the Briton's heart.
To Catigern like a flash comes the remembrance of
that trick he saw in the fight at Vincennes with the
Gothic captives. It is his only chance. Suddenly
he drops his dagger, trips up Horsa, and as the giant
falls heavily, he concentrates all the force he can
CATIGKKN AND HORSA. 97
bring, with both hands on his enemy's wrist. He
hears the snap, if the yell of pain had not told suffi-
ciently well that he has sprained it.
But Horsa is not vanquished yet. He has dragged
Catigern down with him, has seized him by the
throat, and is drawing him towards the dagger held
between his teeth.
From that fierce, desperate grip Catigern knows
there is no release. He will choke long before the
moment of impalement arrives. His own dagger,
where is it ? In that last roll his feet have touched
something sharp. Half sick with suffocation he feels
for it, and jerks it upward with his toes. He has
reached it. With his left hand he grasps it !
A minute more, and Catigern stands covered with
blood and dust, with dizzy brain and aching nerves
over the dead body of savage Horsa. The stump of
his broken sword had turned the scale.
Not long does Catigern live to boast his victory.
Twenty avenging spears are hurled upon him by the
furious and disappointed Jutes. He falls mortally
wounded, and fierce rages the conflict for hours
around the bodies of the two heroes.
Horsa is dead. And that night, while amid the
glare of the torches his men drag the boulders down
from the hills to build him an imperishable monu-
ment, the Bard sings his elegy. He chants the
countless exploits of this mighty man of valour, of
all the men he had slain, of all the women he had
made widows, of plains laid waste, and churches ran-
7
9) an Anglo-Saxon chieftain, (V) a
prehistoric horse.
3. A piece of timber taken from one of the yew
trees on the Pilgrims'
Way.
4. A portion of
the Stone Circle.
5. Ditto of the
Druidical Altar.
6. Ditto of Kit's
Coity House.
7. A jar of cherry
brandy purchased at
a wayside inn.
8. Sundry fossils
and petrified leaves
from Boxley.
To these he added
at Wye a bag of eels caught by the miller, and some
rabbits knocked down by our landlord. By this time
he had assumed a sufficiently portly appearance.
When we parted finally from Higgins on the
platform at Canterbury station, then he was a sight
for all the world to gaze on aghast in speechless
wonder. His person had become so rotund that his
garments threatened to burst, and his pockets were
122
\F.\Y WIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
momentarily expected to discharge their super-
abundant treasures. From every available crevice
peeped guide - books, pictures, photographs, rare
plants, feathers and foliage. One hand grasped
tightly a fish-basket, the other a brace of rabbits,
while from under each arm an enormous pumpkin
would occasionally endeavour to seek a securer
resting-place by slipping
down with a thump on to
the floor. There were
. many more objects of
; V] equal value in the luggage
van, but of these, language
fails in description.
This faculty for accu-
mulation is not uncom- "
mon. How many of us in
our pilgrimage through
life amass a variety of
quite unnecessary useless
things which only encum-
ber our heavenward path !
Higgins lost quite half of his curiosities during the
journey to London. We shall one day have to leave
all our lumber behind us, even though it be of
precious metal and stamped with the image and
superscription of our gracious Queen. As a noted
preacher remarked, " We shall have no pockets in
our shrouds."
I begin to understand now why those ancient
ON ORDNANCE MAPS AND OTHER THINGS. 123
monuments, which the guide-books describe as so
stupendous, prove so contemptibly small to the
modern visitor. Even they could not bear the
constant drain upon their resources to meet the
craze of so many generations of collectors. If only
three Higgins's visit Kit's Coity House each month,
in fifty years they chip off quite a ton of material.
The cromlech is at least two thousand years old, so
that as we see it now it has lost at the lowest
calculation forty tons of its original bulk. With the
increased travelling facilities of modern times, the
process has increased in rapidity. In another century
all these priceless antiquities will be remembered
chiefly by the illustrations which adorn this work.
CHAPTER XIV.
THURNHAM CASTLE.
A LOFTY mountain to be climbed immediately after
lunch ! This was impracticable and altogether
beyond reason ; but the Artist insisted on it, and
a new energy seemed to be infused into Higgins
when it was mentioned that there were ruins on the
summit. I would fain rest awhile and take my ease,
after my midday repast ; as usual I was outvoted.
A long weary ascent, first by a stony road, and then
up the steep rough edges of the hillside. Of course
I had to carry the bag ; and the Boy struggled
wearily with the camera, and vituperated all builders
of abbeys with unmeasured scorn. No matter that
it was a castle we were in search of. The Boy
despises all such minute distinctions.
After a mile of upward progress, a shout pro-
claimed that the advanced guard had discovered
something. It was a heap of picturesquely disposed
roadstones. Higgins decided that this must be
Thurnham Castle. So we photographed the Castle
with Higgins reclining gracefully on the top, and
124
THURNHAM CASTLE.
125
calculating how much brown paper and string would
be required to make the Castle up into a neat parcel
to be despatched by the next Carter Paterson for re-
erection in his suburban garden.
Thurnham, or Goddard's Castle, was most likely
a Roman speculatory, i.e., reconnoitring station. It
was never very large or complete, only having been
designed as a slight protection to a force guarding
the cross-road to Sittingbourne. The hill has been
cut away and artificially strengthened, and it com-
mands a very extensive view in every direction.
The fresh breezes drove away our lassitude. We
were boys once more. A proposal for a race down
the hill, and a short cut across country, met with
universal approval. Down we rushed, yelling and
shouting, leaping from mound to knoll, and jumping
gaily over bush and ditch. Then came a check to
our onward career, for at a gate one of the sturdy
men of Kent, with a dog, barred our onward progress.
126 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
We resorted to strategy and propitiated his hostility
with twopence. From an uncompromising enemy he
became a valuable ally and showed us how, by
trespassing on a neighbour's fields, we could save
nearly another mile.
To our great regret, loss of time forced us to
abandon all ideas of visiting Leeds Castle, a splendid
mediaeval fortified palace on an island in the middle
of a lake formed by the Len brook, and we could not
even turn aside to inspect Hollingborne Church, with
its memorials of the doughty cavalier warrior, Lord
Colepepper, whose twelve daughters worked the altar
cloths. These ladies form inviting heroines for a
twelve-volume novel. Higgins very much wished to
meditate (as the guide-books recommended) on the
tomb of Lady Grace Gethin, but I reminded him, that
she had another tomb in Westminster Abbey,
whereon he might go and meditate free of charge
any Monday or Tuesday between the hours of
10 a.m. and 4 p.m.
The path still increased in wild luxuriant beauty.
Nowhere else is the untended strip of land so broad
or Nature so unfettered in her treatment of the banks
and hedges on which she has laboured for more than
two thousand years. Here and there we startled
some drowsy rabbit, or a partridge would fly up
simulating lameness to entice us far from the spot
where its precious offspring were concealed.
" A country life is the only life worth living. A life
spent in the green fields under the clear sunlight, the
THURNHAM CASTLE. I2/
destroyer of all disease germs in body and soul ; the
life-giver whose rays cannot penetrate in their power
into the pestiferous smoky atmosphere of our great
cities. A life of early rising, regular hours of toil ;
a restful life, free from the grasping anxieties which
beset the Londoner. A life of colour and variety
instead of the gloom and monotony of a smoky town.
[" All the same, you would be glad to turn it up in
a week," murmured Higgins.] For the countryman,
Nature puts on all her transformations ; she presents
him with a costly almanack, a book, a daily magazine,
with living pages which none can number, writ with
endless kinds of flowers, of beasts, song birds, reptiles
and insects."
" And all having a definite purpose in life," inter-
rupted the Artist, " namely, to devour one another."
" Perhaps you will explain this," remarked Higgins.
" A Londoner at sixty is in the prime of life, erect
and active. What is a country labourer like at that
age? Bent double. A worn-out old man, generally
half-witted and past any work but grave-digging."
" Country air is all very well for a change," said the
Photographer ; " but it is too strong to live in, too
rich in oxygen. It ' develops ' too quickly."
The Boy considered that the air most conducive to
longevity was that of sewers. Witness the scavengers
who are always fine healthy-looking men and live to
a fabulous old age. Witness also the sewer rat, the
strongest and most active of all mammalia.
"Then again," continued Higgins, "how many
128 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
country-folk care about your Book of Nature? My
uncle in the country doesn't know a missel thrush
from a linnet, or a pimpernel from wood-sorrel. He
can only distinguish partridges, rabbits and pheasants,
because it is proper to shoot them. All naturalists
are Londoners."
I am afraid Higgins is right. Nearly all the real
observers of Nature are town bred. Old Gilbert
White is almost the only exception I can recollect.
Perhaps the reason is that the looker-on always
sees most of the game. For the countryman is
involved in that vast scheme of Nature which, as the
Artist truly observed, consists in causing everything
to prey on something else. If we look closely into
the scheme, we see that it is a system of vortices
reacting curiously on one another. The aphis preys
uport the rosebuds, the bluebottle gobbles up the
aphides till at length he is caught and devoured by
the spider. By and by the spider grows fat enough
to form a tit-bit for the blackbird. Then the black-
bird is murdered by the hawk, who, in turn (if he
is not shot by a sportsman and palmed off on some
unsuspicious London poulterer as a rook), is killed in
a trap, and food for insects to start a new round is
provided. Another series might be formed from the
caterpillars and ichneumons, or from the snakes and
the mice. And the highest vortex of all is formed
by humanity itself. First the labourer digs and toils
and tyrannises over grain and cattle till he has
amassed a harvest ; but this is not to be his own ;
THURNHAM CASTLE. I 29
the farmer has marked him for his prey. But before
the farmer can retire with his gains, the landlord
must be reckoned with. Then comes the tax-
collector and pillages the landlord. I am not quite
sure who devours the tax-collector, but depend upon
it, Nature has some provision to meet the case.
" Hobbcs clearly proves that every creature
Is in a state of war by nature.
So naturalists observe a flea
Has smaller fleas that on him prey ;
And these have smaller still to bite 'cm ;
And so proceed ad in fin it inn."
Let others say what they will, the country life is
the true life. And Nature has its sure and certain
revenge on a people which allows agriculture to
dwindle and decay. Hear Richard Jefferies :
" The wheat-fields are the battle-fields of the world.
If not so openly invaded as of old time, the struggle
between nations is still one for the ownership or
for the control of corn. When Italy became a
vineyard and could no more feed armies, slowly
power slipped away, and the great empire of Rome
split into many pieces. It has long been foreseen
that if ever England is occupied with a great war,
the question of our corn supply, so largely derived
from abroad, will become a weighty matter. Each
of us, in our voluntary and involuntary struggle for
money, is really striving for those little grains of
wheat that lie so lightly in the palm of the hand,
9
130 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
Corn is coin, and coin is corn, and whether it be a
labourer in the field, who no sooner receives his weekly
wage than he exchanges it for bread, or whether it be
the financier in Lombard Street who loans millions,
the object is really the same wheat.
" All ends in the same : iron mines, coal mines,
factories, furnaces, the counter, the desk no one
can live on iron, on coal, or cotton the object is
really sacks of wheat "
Higgins began again to develop symptoms of
lassitude. Just then the Boy managed to stir up
a wild bees' nest with his umbrella, and we fled
the scene at a speed that soon brought us to the
outskirts of Lenham.
CHAPTER XV.
LENHAM.
A RUDE little boy stationed himself in front of the
camera at Lenham, with a view of becoming the most
conspicuous portion of our
picture of the quaint market-
place. He was unaware of
the resources of photography.
We " exposed " without draw-
ing the slide. The urchin
was circumvented by this
ruse, and ran off bursting
with pride and glee to tell
his mates that he had been
photographed. Meanwhile,
the slide cover was with-
drawn, and a negative secured.
Just outside one of the old
half-timber houses, behind
the colonnade of poplars, a
man and a dog had posed themselves. We were glad
that neither of these (and especially the dog) was
132
Xi:\V WIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS.
deceived by our stratagem. Within limits, we ap-
preciate the addition of portraits of local celebrities,
as they add interest and authenticity to our pictures.
The sagacity of the dog formed an excuse for
Higgins to relate a few anecdotes. But dog stories
are so much overdone, that his imaginative efforts
fell rather flat.
As a rule the dog is one of the least intelligent
of animals certainly he fails entirely in comparison
with the cat or the raven. He is docile and tractable,
readily learning by heart any trick, if there is any
reward promised. It need not necessarily be edible.
A piece of wood or a stone will usually serve as
effectual a temptation as a biscuit. If you are at table
he is, of course, disappointed to find that he cannot
chaw up or extract nourishment from the piece of
boxwood for which you have required him to shake
hands or beg ; but he will soon return to the
charge.
LENHAM. 133
The leading characteristic of the dog is the un-
changeable persistence with which he will pursue
some fixed idea. Like a systematic gambler, he
backs that idea, regardless of repeated failure, in-
troducing it on every possible occasion, knowing
that the right concordance of circumstances must
eventually come according to the rules of chance,
when that mode of action will turn out trumps.
My dog at home bites every stranger who ven-
tures into the back-yard ; no doubt with a vague idea
that if he causes one trespasser to repent, there will
be joy enough in my household to cover all the
displeasure at the ninety and nine just persons who
have to retreat hurriedly to the nearest chemist.
Some collateral ancestor of this dog dwelt in some
open prairie, where the grass was coarse and stiff: my
dog obstinately continues to turn round three times
whenever he wishes to repose on the soft, thick
Turkey rug in front of the drawing-room fire.
Last summer a friend presented us with a tortoise.
I don't know whether our dog had heard of turtle
soup, or whether he regarded the creature as a new
kind of bone that walked about ; but at any rate
he determined to eat it. Whenever the Chelonian
started out on a constitutional down the garden
path, Gyp arrested it and carried it into his kennel,
where he gnawed at the impenetrable armour till
his jaws ached. The calm and philosophical manner
in which the creature resumed his interrupted pro-
menade irritated him exceedingly, but no failure
134 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
discouraged him. When we reminded him of its
existence he would go in search all round the garden,
peering into every crevice, till eventually tortoise
was found and fresh attempts made to extract the
meaty portions.
Winter came. The tortoise was forgotten and left
out in the cold one frosty night. In the spring, while
repairing the rockery, we found his corpse, half eaten
by ants. And that dog, whom a piece of tainted
meat or a saucer of stale milk would have despatched
in instant search of the public analyst, munched the
putrid members of the defunct with pretended gusto !
" I once knew a man named William Hunt," re-
marked the Photographer, " who possessed one of
those long, ugly white dogs, a cross between a mastiff
and a very disreputable terrier. Hunt never saw this
dog without kicking it, and gave it a thrashing at
least once a day. So the dog loved his master ex-
ceedingly, and was always found in his company,
following him all over the town.
" Hunt is a commercial traveller, and every year
has to go and get orders, collect debts, and so on
for his employers in the North of England. He is
away about three months. W T hen the period of
absence commenced the dog was inconsolable. He
searched and sniffed in every corner of the house
without success. He went round to the police court,
no signs of his master there. He called at a neigh-
bouring publichouse, having a suspicion >that his
master had eloped with one of the barmaids. No !
LENIIAM.
135
the staff was all complete. Then he went back
home and spent the rest of the day in trying to
figure the matter out.
" Another notion struck him. I le bolted off to
the churchyard and inspected all the graves. At
last he came across one with an inscription to the
memory of a William Hunt. It is true that the
stone declared that this William Hunt had died in
1823, at the advanced age of ninety-eight, but that
was a minor detail. He determined to haunt this
stone. So he spent most of his time tidying up
the grave, pulling up weeds, filching all the best
wreaths from the other tombs to adorn it, or sitting
up and chuckling over the statements about the
virtues of the deceased.
" By and by, just as he had grown so fond of the
monument, that he insisted on having his meals
brought to him in the churchyard, his master re-
turned. There never was a more disgusted dog.
With one last growl of rage he sent all his painfully
136
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
amassed decorations flying, rushed out of the church-
yard, and was engaged for four hours in mortal
combat with a retriever that belonged to the sexton.
Then he went mad, and bit the local sculptor. Next
day he met the fate of all mad dogs."
A sad story if true. If not true, a story better
untold, although it illustrates a very characteristic
side of canine intelligence.
After a hearty " meat tea " \ve secured sketches
of the curious lych gate and fifteenth-century porch
of the church, and attended such portions of evening
service as filtered out through the open windows.
Then in the twilight we w r alked on to Charing, of
which it was too dark to see much. The block on
which St. John the Baptist was beheaded was
formerly preserved in the church here.
LENHAM. 137
It was clearly impossible for us to find our way
over to Wye in the dark ; so most reluctantly we
had to resort to a train journey. While waiting for
the train we picked up acquaintance with a young
man, a resident of Folkestone, who had been on a
visit to some friends near Charing. As he was
supposed to start work at some unearthly hour the
next morning, he had intended to have caught an
early train, but had overslept himself. His sweet-
heart had induced him to accompany her to church,
with the result that the midday train was just passing
out of the station as he arrived breathless on the
scene. His habit of leaving things to the last
moment caused him to undergo the same unfortunate
consequences with regard to a train that left at
three o'clock. To prevent a recurrence of this
disaster, he had been waiting on the platform for
almost the whole evening. That made things fairly
sure, he thought.
Just at the last moment our friend remembered
something a message he ought to have left with his
young lady, only across the way, where you could
hear the train coming and so he left us.
The train was phenomenally punctual. We took
our seats, the whistle sounded, and with a few gentle
puffs from our iron steed we glided out of the station.
A yell of rage caused us to look out of the carriage
window. We beheld that unfortunate young man
struggling frantically in the arms of a porter to
secure his last chance of getting to Folkestone that
138 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
night. Twas all in vain. Like Lord Ullin, he was
left lamenting.
Oh woman ! woman ! What have your seductive
charms to answer for !
CHAPTER XVI.
IN C A M P A T W V K .
WYK is a decayed place. In Domesday Book it
occupies a high position, the Manor then having
jurisdiction over twenty-two hundreds, the whole
extent of the Lath of Scray. This high importance
it retained down to the sixteenth century, since which
139
140 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
time it has been steadily decreasing. At the time
of the Reformation it still possessed a weekly market.
Lelancl describes it as a pleasant country town, but
the market had ceased to be weekly. Now there is
no market at all. This decay has been shared by its
leading institutions. Only a fragment remains of the
great cruciform church built by Archbishop Kemp, a
native of the place ; the college of priests became a
country grammar school, which was a year or two
ago abolished by the Lord of the Manor, and the
long, low block of fifteenth-century buildings sold
by him to the County Council for the purposes of an
agricultural college. The Manor has been divided,
and the population is now quite small.
The reason of this decay is not altogether easy to
explain. Possibly the feeble and inane puns (such
as the Boy has been indulging in) with regard to the
name of the place had a discouraging effect on the
inhabitants.
Once upon a time I was invited to assist in the
production of a periodical which bore the high-
sounding name of " Food." It was a journal of
dietetic economy in all its branches. The duty
entrusted to me was to work up the branches by
interviewing authorities. Then it was that I found
out an answer to Shakespeare's question : " What's in
a name ? " The name of " Food " was an incentive
to a species of wit of far too widespread occurrence.
People daily asked " If I had any food," or remarked
that " my food didn't seem to agree with me," I being
IN CAMP AT WVK. 141
of spare habit, or " that the paper looked as if it
wanted feeding up." After I had heard these lively
sallies a few thousand times, they ceased to evoke
even a smile of toleration. I became disgusted, and
in spite of the princely salary attached to the situa-
tion, I felt compelled to resign. But even the name
of" Food " offers less temptation to the facile punster
than that of Wye.
Why was it so called ? Echo answers Why ?
Lambard, Philpott, Camden, and the rest of the
gifted etymologists who have five or six equally
plausible and unlikely derivations to account for
every polysyllable name like Julieberrie or Appledore
give up this little word as an insoluble conundrum.
One or two of them have endeavoured to supply the
long-felt want by imagining a Celtic root Vw, which
meant wandering ; but who it was that was wander-
ing, whether it referred to the meanderous course
of the rippling Stour, or the inhabitants when going
home late at night, or the philologists themselves, is
not explained.
A native of the town, a rising medical authority,
informs me that the following is the most probable
solution. In the days of old there dwelt hard by the
ancient bridge, with its moss-grown Gothic arches, a
bold and mighty baron, whose name is supposed to
have been Kennett. This valiant knight was wont
to take toll of all comers. Every stranger was asked
the question: "Where for?" If he was bound for
Canterbury, then the knight bade him pass on, be-
142
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
cause he knew that pilgrims ought not to be delayed
in the performance of their sacred duty ; besides, as
a class, they are rarely overburdened with this world's
goods. If he was not a pilgrim, then he was invited
to stop and taste the excellent beer and the far-famecl
eel pies of the district, prices being varied according
to the rank and fortune of the customer. So the
place came to be known as " Wherefore," and was so
marked in the Ordnance maps of the period.
In the course of time centuries elapsed. The good
knight was gathered to his fathers, and all his single-
minded deeds of philanthropy were forgotten,
although his descendants have not forgotten the
recipe for brewing his matchless ale, and the mill-
pond still rears the finest eels in all Kent. Then the
age of guide-book writers dawned on this sphere, and
IN CAMP AT \VVK. 143
they came to Wherefore. It seemed a bombastic
title for so small a place, so they shortened it to
Wye, and ever since they have been trying to dis-
cover the reason why.
" Which is a parable," remarked the grizzled host
of the " Flying Bull," as he drained a pint measure
of the aforesaid ale in our honour. " And the moral
is: Never ask questions beginning with 'Why.' Stick
to facts."
But the vagaries of fortune have not disturbed the
little town. Like a philosophical stockbroker who
has failed in the conflict against bulls and bears, and
has set up as a coal merchant and greengrocer, it has
remained eminently respectable and has cut its coat
to suit its cloth. There are no signs of ruin and
desolation. You might think that the market had
been given up because bartering and haggling
disturbed the peace of its pleasant valley. It has
consolidated itself into a smiling, happy village, to
enjoy a dolce far niente amid the downs which shut
out all unpleasant winds and just admit of soft,
wholesome zephyrs a valley of repose and con-
tentment, where one may forget all the cares of a
shouting, competitive world, with just the one ex-
citement, when walking, fishing, and driving have
exhausted their charms, of strolling clown to the
station to see who has arrived by the train.
Our programme for this day of rest had fore-
shadowed a time of continuous pleasure. In the
early morning we would bathe where the stream
144
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
deepens in its sandy channel by Browning Bridge.
Then, after breakfast, we would walk over to Brook
and thus on to the Downs, here barren and wild as
the Dorset hills, to the Devil's Kneading Trough
where the witches used to dance round their un-
hallowed fires, as told in the pages of Knatchbull-
Hugessen. Thence we would skirt the old race-
course, a huge natural amphitheatre, and so by Wye
Down, where the Thames estuary at Whitstable and
the English Channel beyond Romney Marsh are in
full view. Through Pett Street would we wander,
where the numerous deep wells mark the site of the
Wye of mediaeval times, deserted, so the tradition
states, owing to a great pestilence, similar to the
IN CAMP AT WYE. 145
"Death of Ypres" which ravaged Flanders. Perhaps,
if time and inclination allowed, we would go as far
as Khnstead, where, in the last century, a subter-
ranean coal seam took fire, to the amazement and
terror of the natives. We would return via the
quaint churchyard of Crunclale and read the inscrip-
tion to sundry individuals named Sutton, concluding
thus :
" From this tombstone it cloth appear
The Family of Sutton lieth here."
By way of a set-off the more artificial scenery at
Ollanteigh, with its statue - decked gardens and
Parisian waterfall, might be visited, although there
would be no time to see the priceless curiosities
within the mansion.
Many things turn out contrary to expectation, and
it's always unlucky to anticipate.
Under the shadow of an old minster church a
bright-eyed youngster was droning over his delectus,
and as he sat on his bench in the shady cloister he
speculated over the future which lay before him. It
was his ambition to be a priest. Some day it would
be his pride to stand before the altar, robed in costly
vestures of purple and gold, and surrounded by a
host of attendants ; when the notes of the pealing
organ died away he would turn and give the blessing
to the kneeling throng. His hands would offer the
holy mysteries, and carry round the precious relics
under a stately canopy. He would bear consolation
10
146 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
to the dying, or preach sermons to hold men spell-
bound, and turn the sinner from wicked ways.
In his musing the youngster fell asleep. He
dreamt a most dreadfully wicked dream, that he was
an outlaw and a brigand one who was always burn-
ing churches to the ground, defaming priceless relics,
and cutting saintly hermits' throats from ear to ear.
He woke in a cold sweat of horror, and ran to seek
his confessor.
" My son," said this worthy man, kindly patting
the child's curly head. " Dreams indicate more truly
than all the self-examination in the world, the state
of the soul. You are really engaged in murder. ' In
fact, I know that you are the murderer of a priest."
" How can you say that, Father ? " cried the boy,
with mingled indignation and surprise. " You know
very well I am incapable of such a terrible crime."
" Nevertheless," continued the monk, " I am right.
You are murdering the priest you might otherwise
yourself become. Only to-day, instead of doing your
Latin exercise, you idled your time away in thinking
how fine a thing it would be to perform the high
offices of the priesthood. You have lost a day in the
task of preparing yourself to be a priest, and more-
over, while people build castles in the air, fate is
stealing the foundations. Wait to enjoy the future
when it comes ; never anticipate anything but
misfortune."
The young aspirant listened attentively to his
preceptor, and earnestly promised amendment for the
IN CAMP AT WYE. 147
future. In the ordinary course of things he would
have become a most devout ecclesiastic, perhaps either
Archbishop of Canterbury or Abbot of St. Albans.
Only unfortunately all this happened in the reign of
King Henry VIII., just a year before monasteries
were abolished. The boy who was going to be a
priest embarked as cabin-boy on a privateer vessel.
Eventually he became a bold buccaneer, the right
hand and boon companion of Sir Francis Drake, in
whose company he ravaged the Spanish Main, and
secured no end of plunder.
But the old monk was quite right. You cannot eat
your goose and have it. If you take your pleasures
in advance, you draw a bill on fortune to be repaid in
misery.
We started forth gaily after breakfast, first visiting
the famous well at Withersden, and sampling the
water thereof. Matthew of Paris says, " St. Eustace
(Abbot of Flai about 1200} here began his office of
preaching ; and in that place he blessed a spring,
which in consequence was of such virtue, that from
merely tasting it all distempers were cured. A drop-
sical woman implored help of the saint. ' Be confi-
dent, daughter,' said he, ' and go to your native
fountain of Wye, which God hath blessed ; drink, and
you shall be well.' The woman did as she was
directed, and immediately becoming sick, there issued
from her mouth, in the sight of many, two large and
black toads, which were soon changed into dogs, and
afterwards into asses. The terrified woman screamed ;
148 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
but he who kept the fountain sprinkled some of the
water between her and them, and the monsters
vanished into air."
The miraculous virtue of this well is undoubted.
Since drinking of its water Higgins has been com-
pletely cured of his abominable habit of relating
improbable episodes in the lives of his uncles.
Then we proceeded on our way towards Brook.
When about half way drops of rain began to fall,
shortly becoming a sharp shower. Our nearest
shelter was at the " Honest Miller," and we took a
short cut which I knew very well led to that house of
retreat. Fields and stiles are not easily distinguished
in the mist, and we had quite half an hour of cir-
cuitous journey through sloppy grass and mud before
we reached the haven.
" Which is a parable," remarked our host of the
" Flying Bull," when, during a lull of the storm, we
returned to seek changes of raiment. " The moral
being that it's very hard to find an Honest Miller."
Higgins reminded us how troublesome the flies had
proved during the walk through the meadows to the
bathing-place in the early morning a sure sign of
rainy weather. Our host said that this was likewise
a parable, the moral being that it's easiest to be
weatherwise after the event.
Drip, drip, drip. It rained all through that after-
noon. We were perforce compelled to remain in the
parlour of the " Flying Bull," listening to the land-
lord's narratives of the leading worthies of Wye. He
IN CAMP AT WYE. 149
told us exactly the date of every inhabitant's birth,
his full Christian name, his godfathers and god-
mothers, whom he married, how many children he
had, and how each had been named, what became of
each, and how they liked it ; how the}' eventually
were gathered to their fathers, their last words, and
the inscriptions on their tombstones. Little anec-
dotes illustrating their peculiar failings were also
judiciously introduced with considerable artistic
effect.
Amongst other things he told us about a certain
old house in Wye which is haunted. It formerly
belonged to the wicked squire of the place, who
foolishly blew out his brains in the cellar. In spite
of repeated coats of whitewash the blood-stains on
the ceiling still retain their ruddy hue. Every
evening a procession of the wicked squire's five and
twenty victims ascend and descend an ancient stair-
case (the staircase has been walled up, but they do
not mind that). The door of the cellar where the
tragedies took place is locked every night, but in the
morning it is found wide open.
The wicked squire was buried near the cross-road
in a vast vault constructed in accordance with his
will, and fitted up with hot-water pipes a provision
which our landlord considered was unnecessary under
the circumstances.
He also told us that there was a stout, middle-aged
gentleman, legal by profession, who had relatives in
the town. This gentleman comes down from London
ISO NKW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
every year, and his principal occupations during his
holiday appear to be amateur poaching and bathing.
Sometimes it rains, but this enterprising individual is
by no means deterred from his diurnal immersion.
He puts on a mackintosh and an umbrella. The
mackintosh is laid on the ground, the clothes placed
upon it and the umbrella over them. After his dip he
dresses leisurely, defying the elements beneath his
improvised shelter.
CIIAI'TKR XVII.
TIIK 1'IUJKIMS WKinilKI).
TlIK rain left off during the afternoon, but we felt
some embarrassment about leaving the protecting
shelter of the " Flying Bull." In a village like Wye
a stranger is the cynosure of all eyes. Our own
proper garments were not yet dry, and the five suits,
borrowed by our landlord from various neighbours
and acquaintances, were not by any means a perfect
fit.
A modest man like myself has some qualms
regarding a walk down the main thoroughfare
(officially known as Bridge Street) in a frock coat, the
tails of which scarcely fall below the waistcoat, and a
pair of continuations requiring their last six inches
tucked up, capacious enough withal to smuggle two
or three skins of brandy, or half a do/en pounds of
tobacco, without greatly incommoding the wearer.
Just consider the dangers of the route. In the first
cottage on the right-hand side lives a family of
particularly inquisitive females. They are always at
the window, and to stare at pilgrims seems at present
152
\F.\V WIIKKLS IN OLD KUTS.
their chief object in life. The eldest daughter, a
pretty, dark-eyed lass of sixteen, cranes her head out
directly we appear in sight, popping it in with a blush
as we pass ; out she comes again directly afterwards,
and she and her younger
sisters study back views
till we disappear round
the corner. Further on
there is an old man
smoking a pipe at his
doorstep, who invariably
informs us that it is a
fine day. Then several
more doors open with the
regularity of clockwork
to allow the inmates to
feast their eyes on our
good looks and make
more or less favourable
estimates of our morals.
Still worse is the chemist's
parrot ; his remarks are
usually more lucid than
agreeable. Then people
whom you know, or who
know you, are sure to be coming to or from the
station. These last are the worst of all.
So we waited till the evening, by which time our
legitimate and orthodox garb had been thoroughly
dried and well brushed. And then it was that we
TIIK I'lLCRIMS \YKICI IK IX
'53
took ourselves to the railway station, which is to
every English country place possessing no market as
fashionable a resort as an Eastern bazaar. Here we
acquired a most remarkable testimony as to the
salubrity of Kentish air and Kentish fare.
Before leaving town we were weighed on the
automatic machine at Holborn Station. These were
the results :
st. Ibs.
The Boy ... ... ... 9 3
Photographer ... ... 9 4
Artist... ... ... ... 9 it
Higgins ... ... ... 10 3
Reviewer ... ... ... 10 7
Compare the following figures registered on the
official luggage weighing apparatus of the South
Eastern Railway, Wye Station :
The Boy
The Photographer
The Artist ...
Higgins
The Reviewer
st.
1 1
12
12
17
13
Ibs.
IO
IO
3
Figures cannot lie. In three days each of us had
acquired upwards of thirty-five pounds of solid flesh
and muscle. The abnormal increase of weight in the
case of Higgins was partially due to the quantity of
relics contained in his various pockets. But the facts
are startling indeed ! Thirty-five pounds in three
days ! That means eleven pounds five ounces a clay,
154 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
or, say, seventy pounds a week. So that if our
pilgrimage had lasted a year of fifty-two weeks
(omitting Sundays) we should have each acquired an
additional weight of a ton and a half !
But even this is not an accurate estimate. In three
days I had put on a quarter of my previous weight.
In a week the increase would have been a half.
Thenceforward the progression ought to be repre-
sented geometrically, because the new flesh and bone
would itself be an active factor in the proportionate
increase. I sent this problem to a learned Cambridge
professor of mathematics and asked him to work it
out for me. After about a fortnight I received the
following reply :
" DEAR MR. REVIEWER, I hope you will
abandon any idea of prolonging your pilgrimage
for a whole year. Assuming your premises to be
correct, your total weight at the end of that period
would be 287,526,985 tons, 19 cwt, 71 Ibs. The
presence of such a body moving promiscuously over
the surface of the earth would be little short of
disastrous. It would seriously impede the rotation of
the globe, and heaven only knows what would
happen regarding the precession of the Equinoxes !
Abandon the idea, there's a good fellow.
" As to your friend Higgins, his volume would
exceed that of the planet Jupiter.
" With congratulations on your delightful tour,
" Yours sincerely,
"A, T N."
THE PILGRIMS WEIGHED. 155
In deference to my dear old tutor's wishes I
abandoned the idea. Not that any such course was
essential, because Nature has provided a beautiful
method of compensation.
A friend, on whose word I can safely rely, states
that he was weighed on the same machine at Wye
Station, and found to be about fifteen stone. On
reaching Charing Cross he registered on the automatic
machine there I2st. lolb. Which proves that what-
ever addition the human body gains on the way to
the place of pilgrimage it loses during the journey
back.
Higgins said that there were many phenomena
concerning the weight of the human body under
varying conditions that had not yet been properly
explained. One day to prove a wager he weighed
himself on an automatic machine at King's Cross
Station. To his horror it only indicated something
under nine stone. He had been feeling unwell for
some days. Some insidious wasting disease must
have been the cause, and he determined to go straight
home and put himself under medical treatment.
Before getting into the train he was weighed again at
Ludgate Hill. In the few minutes he had lost
another three or four pounds ! During the journey
he brooded over his trouble so much that he had
scarcely strength to crawl down the steps. At this
rate he was not going to last for many hours.
Dissolution was nigh. It was sad to be cut off thus
in the midst of his youth ; and when he remembered
156 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
that pay day was only three clays off, and that he
was not to live to see it, his heart waxed heavy with
sorrow. So heavy that on inserting his penny into
the machine outside the tobacconist's at the corner,
over twelve hundredweight was reached at the point
when the spring broke, and the hands went whir-
ring round the dial at seventy revolutions per
second.
There were other machines in the station for the
automatic supply of sweetmeats. I regret to have
to chronicle the melancholy fact that some of the
pilgrims resorted to them with avidity. They seemed
to enjoy these childish dainties. With a sigh I left
them and returned to the " Flying Bull."
The tap-room was full of labourers enjoying a
friendly pipe and chat after the day's toil. I judged
that either the " Flying Bull " is patronised by a
select company, or else that the country bumpkin is
becoming extinct in the district. The men might in
intelligence compare with the best class of London
artisans. Perhaps school-boards and newspapers have
something to do with it ; but most of all, probably,
the railway. Many of them had served in the army
and the police. A kind of spelling-bee was in
progress. A middle-aged, sharp-featured wight of
the name of Samuel had challenged the company to
spell a certain word.
" He means ' physick,'" said one.
" No, I don't mean ' physick,' " replied Sam. " I
mean ' ptizick.' "
THE PILGRIMS WEIGHED. 157
" Then I bet it's spelt t-i-z-i-c," cried another.
" No use, Walter," exclaimed a third. " Sam's just
made up the word to puzzle us."
" I bet drinks all round," cried Walter. " And I
appeal to Mr. Reviewer."
My reputation was at stake. To tell the truth I
never had heard of the word. But I looked at the
stalwart form of Walter. I also considered his
financial stability in the event of his losing. And
in the end decided to give a verdict in his favour.
" I bow to the chair," said Samuel, amiably. " But
I always spell it myself p-t-z-i-c-k."
" Go on with your nonsense," roared the landlord.
" You know very well, Sam, you've just made the
word up. Which is a parable. The moral being, we
all know Samuel."
" Wait a bit," chuckled Samuel, quietly. " Now, I'll
tell you what I mean by the word ptizick. It is the
pipe in a man's throat down which all the liquids go.
Just at the back of your palate there is a valve which
divides the throat into two channels. Down one
goes all you eat, clown the other all you drink. Ah !
I've seen many a man's ptizick when I was in the
dissecting-room at the Barnmouth hospital."
" Gammon ! " grunted W r alter.
" I can tell you a very queer experience I had, sir,"
continued Samuel, " which this word ptizick calls to
mind. When I was waiting on Dr. Horley at Barn-
mouth hospital one day we had the body of a man
to dissect He had died the day before of a lung
158 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
disease ; the doctors were not quite sure on some
point, and wanted to examine him carefully.
" Well, sir, we got the body nicely laid out on the
marble slab when the doctor was called away for a
minute or two. He asked me meanwhile to get him
a glass of stout. These hospital doctors ain't very
nice in their ways.
" I put the stout on the slab all ready for the
doctor, and then I went into the next room to get
the instruments and set them ready. Next minute
when I came back the glass was empty. The doctor
accused me of drinking it."
" I bet he was right," murmured Walter.
" He was wrong," said Samuel, gravely. " Now
comes the strange thing. When we cut the dead
man up we found the stout in his ptizick. Strange,
wasn't it ? "
" Closing time," shouted the landlord. " Good-
night all of you. And, Sam, I won't say as your
story isn't gospel truth, but when I meet a bigger liar
than you, I'll have him framed ! "
CHAPTER XVIII.
ILV ROUTK ON'CK MOKK.
FOR the first time I succeeded in rousing the Pilgrims
before eight o'clock. An early bathe, a hurried
breakfast, and again we are on the tramp. We are
due at twelve o'clock at Canterbury to meet an
appointment that Higgins has arranged with one
of the Canons of the Cathedral. Fortunately the day
is clear and bright. Briskly we stepped up the hill,
stopping to take a view of the cruciform fourteenth-
century church at Boughton Aluph, the finest ex-
terior that we had yet seen, and happily not yet
much injured by restoration. This large and beau-
tiful temple is seldom used, the living being united
with the neighbouring one of Eastwell. Church life
has yet to make its influence felt in this part of Kent
and pluralities are still tolerated, though matters
show some improvement compared with a hundred
years ago when one, Philip Parsons, combined in one
159
i6o
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
individual, the Rector of Eastwell, the Rector of
Snave, ten miles distant, the Curate of Wye, and
the Master of the Wye Grammar School. With what
success history cleponeth not.
The Boy remarked that this man was rightly
named " Parsons."
After passing Boughton Church we left the road
and turned to the right through an abandoned lime
quarry, and over the hills ; through woods and
copses where trees and bushes overhung and hedged
in our path ; here and there a glade with an occa-
s : onal peep over the Wye valley across to the park
at Ollanteigh, descending at length to the river at
Godmersham.
Godmersham Church is well known by the pictures
" Before and After Restoration," that we were all
/:.\ ROUTE ONCE MOKK.
161
familiar with twenty years ago. Fortunately those
two decades have toned down some of the crispness ;
ivy has begun to cover up and conceal the trimness
of the roofs and the cast-iron French-looking iron
finials. These triumphs of pseudo-Gothicism are all
very well occasionally. Since then, the ideas of
ecclesiologists have toned clown much more rapidly
than their creations.
But we must hurry on, with one last lingering
look on a beautiful old-fashioned house covered with
creeper, and with grounds sloping down to the river.
Through the rich meadows we must hasten till we
get our first glimpse of the ivy-grown keep of Chil-
ham Castle. I wanted to rest on an old plank bridge
over the broadening river, and watch the shoals of
carp and tench at play in the transparent shallows.
1 1
1 62 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
Higgins is in such a hurry. What care I for canons,
when I can rest and bask in the sunshine and listen
to the murmur of the stream over the weeds and
stones ?
Chilham and the neighbouring "Juliber's Grave"
(a mound on the Downs 180 feet long, seven or
eight feet high, and about forty-five feet broad) have
formed a splendid field for the antiquarian etymolo-
gist to dogmatise over. According to some, Caesar's
fleet landed here, and the battle at which one of his
tribunes was killed (referred to in the " Commen-
taries ") took place in the attack on the Castle
mound. So the place was called Juliham, and the
tribune Julius Laberius was buried in the barrow,
corrupted by the natives into " Julieberrie." By
others it has been pronounced to have once been the
domain of a Saxon hero named Cilia, and his grave
was entitled " Cillabyrig." An earl of Winchilsea in
the last century explored the tumulus and found
nothing not even an empty meat can or palaeo-
lithic newspaper to record the original builders. So
Philpott, with a masterly effort of his peculiar genius,
declares that Chilham means simply the " chilly
place." He does not say what Julieberrie means,
but perhaps it was a sort of echo an elevated spot
on which the stranger stood and remarked : " Chilly,
yes, very ! "
Chilham seems to have been at one time a centre
of the wool trade which was common in the Middle
Ages in this part of Kent. At least so I judge from
164 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
the curious, foreign-looking "square " resembling very
much that we noticed at Lenham, and also from the
name of the leading tavern. Most picturesque is
this centre of the little town with the entrance to
Sir Dudley Digges' Jacobean castle one side, the
church at the opposite end, and the remainder of the
quaintest half-timbered gabled houses imaginable,
reminding us very much of Cranbrook, the centre of
Flemish emigration into the Weald of Kent. Nearly
every building in the place is a study in this kind of
architecture. The castle at the extremity of the hill
is full of Roman remains, and is supposed to have
been the residence of King Lucius, the founder of
Canterbury Cathedral. All except the grand Nor-
man Keep was rebuilt by Sir Dudley Digges, the
famous minister to King James I. You can read an
excellent and extensive biography of this gentleman
on his tomb in the church.
One little tribute to his memory shows that his
character was not without its streak of humour. A
clause in his will ordained that every year races
should be held in the field known as " Old Wives
Lees," between maidens and bachelors aged from
sixteen to twenty-four years. The youth who won
was expected to marry the fleetest lass, and was
provided with a suitable dowry.
From this church another illustration of the sense-
less barbarism of maniacs termed " restorers " may be
drawn. The north chancel was in the form of a
Roman columbarium containing circles for inscrip-
/:.V ROUTE ONCE MOKK. 165
tions instead of urn niches. This " monstrosity "
has been lately pulled down and a commonplace
aisle in pseudo- Gothic substituted. The Artist
vented his indignation in the form of a story.
CHAPTER XIX.
THE WEST FRONT OF TOWCFSTFR CATHEDRAL.
A Legend.
IT was in the year Anno Domini 1285, at exactly the
hour of none, on the feast of St. Michael that the
Norman West Tower of the Towcester Minster fell
with a loud crash.
Great was the dismay of the Dean and Chapter,
who had just exhausted all their funds in the re-
building of the nave and choir. They had hoped
that the old west front would have lasted for a gene-
ration better able to afford the expense of erecting a
new one. And now, in their poverty, the work of
rebuilding was forced upon them.
Still, in their time of need, friends came nobly to
their aid. The good people of Towcester were proud
of their Cathedral. Those who had money gave it ;
those who possessed forests or quarries sent loads of
wood and stone ; while those who had neither land
nor substance gave their labour cheerfully. And the
WEST FRONT OF TOWCESTER CATHEDRAL. 167
King himself, hearing of the distress of the good
Canons of Towcester, sent not only money, but
skilled workmen, under the charge of one Arnold of
Mottingham.
And so by the self-denial of the faithful, and the
blessing of our Lady of Towcester, the work pros-
pered. Above the deeply-recessed porches rose the
tiers of saints in their canopied niches, and above
these again rose the great West Window, flanked by
the huge buttresses, and the bold outlines of the
western transepts. High above all soared the lofty
pinnacles and the pointed gables. Truly it was a
sight of wondrous beauty, surpassing all that had
been seen in the W r est country. Of all the many
works that the great architect, Arnold of Mottingham,
had undertaken, the west front of Towcester was
declared to be the crowning glory.
Soon after the work was ended Arnold of Motting-
ham died. His body was laid under a stone in the
western aisle, and his soul was wafted to paradise.
He had ever been a man of pious life. His tithes
and Church dues were always paid promptly, nor
was his commission ever overcharged, nor any bad
foundations or defective masonry to be found in all
his buildings. Moreover every one of the seventeen
chantry priests of Towcester said a mass for the
repose of his soul without requiring any payment.
So he entered the realm of the blessed with good
credentials. And at his earnest request a special
favour was granted to him, viz., that every hundred
168 NK\V NVIIKELS IN OLD RUTS.
years he might revisit the earth, and see how his
works were getting on.
In the year 1367 a peal of bells was presented to
Towcester Cathedral, and the central tower not being
strong enough, a new belfry tower was erected on the
south side of the western front. When on Christmas
Day, 1390, our architect had an opportunity of in-
specting the addition he remarked :
" This is not quite the way I should have gone to
work. Still it is good work, and in no way detracts
from the general effect."
Nor was he displeased when in the next century
he found a kind of porch or chapel had been added in
advance of the central door. It helped to give scale
to the vast mass above.
With the next century came the Reformation, and
Arnold of Mottingham's statues were pulled down
and the niches left empty and defaced.
" Never mind," he soliloquised ; " sooner or later a
revival will take place and put it all right again."
Still this revival had not taken place when he
*f^
revisited his work in 1690. On the contrary, Crom-
well's soldiers had wrought still worse havoc. In
smashing the stained glass in the western window,
they had also destroyed most of the tracery and
delicate sculpture.
In the eighteenth century some kind of restoration
took place. The empty niches were refilled with
stucco statues, and the tracery and foliage were re-
placed in the best style available at the period.
WEST FRONT OF TOWCESTER CATHEDRAL. 169
" Very poor," sighed the shade of Arnold of
Mottingham. " Still no antiquary well instructed in
thirteenth-century architecture will fail in distin-
guishing what remains of my work, and what has
been added."
Then came the nineteenth century, the age when
all the glorious temples of our land, disfigured by
time, neglect, or injudicious repairs, are to be restored
to their original beauty. In due course, the restora-
tion movement reached Towcester. A vast sum of
money was collected, and the great architect, Mr.
Adolphus Square, R.A., F.R.I. B. A., was requested to
investigate and report. A lecture was delivered by
that learned individual in the Town Hall, and we
may extract one paragraph from the report that ap-
peared in the Towcester Mercury :
" Our aim, then, must be to endeavour to resuscitate
to dig out, as it were, from beneath the sands of
time that west front as designed by Arnold Motting-
ham, of which we read in the chronicles of Thomas
the Towcestrian : ' In all the Western region,' he
declares in his quaint Monkish Latin, ' there was none
like that of Towcester. And I doubt, indeed, that
even can be found in Suessones or Amiens that
which can surpass it in dignity.' Now, what I wish
to call your special attention to is the reference to
Soissons and Amiens. There are ten years of
Arnold Mottingham's life of which we know nothing.
May I ask if it is improbable that he spent this
I/O NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
period in visiting the glorious minsters that were
rising throughout Northern France. Where did the
old monk Thomas learn to talk about Soissons and
Amiens, when he had never travelled six miles out of
his native place ? I contend he learnt of them because
he was the boon companion of Arnold Mottingham.
(Cheers.) What more natural, then, than that Arnold
Mottingham, fresh from his Continental studies,
should build here at Towcester a west front on these
lines, the bold conception of which naturally gave it a
dignity beyond the designs of less-travelled brethren.
And here we enter on something beyond conjecture.
Here is a fragment of the Towcester string-course ;
here again one of the capitals from the great window.
Compare it with these photographs of string-courses
at Senlis and Rouen, and these capitals from Notre
Dame at Paris. We find nothing like it in England.
They are distinctly French. (Uproarious applause.) "
And so on. Of course the learned architect was
not aware that the one skilled mason employed on
the repairs in the last century happened to be a
Frenchman, and a fairly intelligent student of ancient
work.
Mr. Adolphus Square prepared a design for the
restoration. It was very carefully executed by a well-
known contractor for restoration work. Some un-
charitable critics, it is true, objected that it was rather
too close a copy of Rheims, with a much too piquant
flavour of Coutances.
WEST FRONT OF TOWCESTER CATHEDRAL. 17 1
There was a grand public dinner in the Town Hall
on the night after the consecration. Again we are
indebted to the Towcester Mercury for an extract
from the speech of the Lord Bishop of the Diocese in
proposing the health of Mr. Adolphus Square :
" Here in the town of Towcester," remarked his
Lordship, " we have been enabled to witness one of
the miracles of modern research. Our old west front
battered by the zealot, smashed to pieces by the
iconoclast, patched up and disfigured by the barbarian
seemed to be a thing of the past. Yet here it ap-
pears again at the magical word of our talented friend
in all its pristine glory. This is a day ' Notanda
meliore lapillo/ for the diocese, for the Dean and
Chapter, and for Mr. Adolphus Square himself. And,
perhaps we hardly clare suggest it -perhaps the
shade of that great genius, who originally designed
and carried out this grand work, has been in our
midst to-day. Ah ! if this be so, what a proud day
it must be for him ! "
And, meanwhile, where was the shade of Arnold of
Mottingham ? He had been in that stately throng
that day. He had seen the white stone all carefully
scraped and cleaned. He had inspected the new
\vork with its Frenchified carvings and its imitation of
thirteenth-century mason marks. And now he was
speeding back to paradise as fast as angel wings
would carry him.
1/2 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
" What, back already ? " cried his brethren, crowd-
ing around him.
" Yes, I have come back," he replied, sadly ; " and
for ever ! My little hall in London has been burnt
down, and a publichouse built on the site ; the
church at Bristol has been turned into a railway-
station ; and as to Towcester I will think no more
of it. My reputation is for ever gone. I am no
longer an architect, only a base copyist of things
I never saw, or ever wished to see. Henceforth,
I will turn my thoughts to things above, for all that
is earthly must pass away as an empty dream."
CHAPTER XX.
IN WHICH WE ARRIVE.
WK were on the crest of Harbledown Hill. An old
gipsy woman told us that it was so called because of
the footsore pilgrims that used to hobble down it.
The great mass of the Cathedral and its three towers
shone in the noontide sky like a giant rejoicing in
his strength. It was a quarter to twelve, and
Higgins warned us that if we did not hurry we
should experience fulminations from the Canon. We
could not even stay to call at the hospital and request
permission to kiss the famous shoe of St. Thomas
and be sprinkled by a Brother with holy water.
Onward we hastened through the West Gate and
into the old High Street with its rambling lattice
windows and projecting fronts.
Why is the city so gay to-day, with bunting
everywhere, flags of all colours hanging across the
streets, and " Welcome " in white letters on a red
ground over every arch ? We heard the strains of
a brass band. Evidently we were expected. The
Canon must have divulged the secret that the first
battalion of a new series of pilgrimages will arrive
173
174 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
to-day. We are in for a good thing ! We swelled
with proper pride. There is sure to be a civic
banquet. Higgins is sorry he did not bring his
dress-suit.
Just as I had mentally composed a suitable reply
to the illuminated address, that wretched Boy re-
membered that this was the second day of the Canter-
bury Cricket Week.
Perhaps it is better there are no speeches or
banquets. We are plain people and hate unnecessary
fuss. With such philosophical consolations we send
Higgins forward to announce our arrival to the
Canon. Another disappointment ! The Canon is
not at home.
But, of course, this is only natural. He fears that
we shall arrogantly assume on our importance, and
means to be a few minutes late so as to allow us to
realise his own dignity. This is only correct form in
IX WHICH WE ARRIVK. 1/5
an ecclesiastic of high rank. We contentedly secure
possession of a claim amid the host of amateur
photographers who are " taking " the Cathedral from
every point of view.
At intervals we depute Higgins to inquire after the
Canon. One o'clock arrives without any fruitful
result ; 1.30, and then a message to the effect
that the Canon has forgotten the appointment.
Would we make another? Saturday afternoon
preferred. As for the bones of St. Thomas, which
we had toiled so wearily and braved so many dangers
to see, they had been replaced in their tomb and
soldered up under a heavy stone slab. Words cannot
express our feelings of disgust and disappointment.
But Canon or no Canon, we would faithfully
perform our duties as pilgrims. And we entered the
Cathedral, only to encounter the worst imposition of all.
I have visited many of the great Continental
churches. At Amiens, Antwerp, Louvain, St. Omer,
and Malines, I have wandered unrestrained amid
priceless treasures of art. I have ventured without
rebuke amid the array of jewelled madonnas, golden
reliquaries, candlesticks, monstrances, and the like,
and have been trusted. No one has followed me
with suspicious looks, nor has any guardian at all
been considered necessary. Above all except when
I have required the removal of curtains or the open-
ing of doors which preserve the pictures of the old
masters I have never been expected to pay a single
centime.
1 76 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
At Canterbury, high gates bar the way to every-
thing eastward of the nave, and a printed notice
informs all whom it may concern that each pilgrim
must place a silver coin in the adjacent box " in the
presence of a verger " before those gates will be
opened. Now, there is no statement to the effect
that there is anything to be seen worth seeing. In
the very laconic nature of the notice lurks the artful-
ness of the imposition. It excites so much curiosity.
What can there be that such massive barriers are
necessary to protect ? Is it possible that Henry
Vlllth's Commissioners overlooked something?
May it even be that some of the shelves of bones
and relics that aroused such mingled sentiment in
Erasmus are still in existence ? Perhaps they can
still show us the arm of St. George or the earth from
which Adam was made. We pay our five sixpences,
and, with the rest of the crowd of sightseers, are
treated to some guide-book gabble and see a few
naked chapels and third-rate monuments. Nothing
else !
And yet there is just one sight to see the Chapel
of the Shrine, vacant and desolate as it is with the
marks of the ruthless destroyer still visible on its
broken pavement. The flight of steps worn away
by the knees of endless successors of pilgrims lead
to nothing : an effect as dramatic as were the courts
of the temple enshrining a Holy of Holies, where
the Roman Conqueror found no deity.
If I may use the comparison in reverence, there is
IN WHICH WE ARRIVE. 1 77
only one place in Christendom more solemn and
touching the three holes in the rock at the Chapel
of the Holy Sepulchre. That vacancy has its deep
lesson to the thinking man. It recalls the inscription
in the corner of St. Paul's Cathedral, " Si monu-
mentum requiris, circumspice." How vain was the
fury of the Tudor despot when he decreed that every
memorial of St. Thomas a Becket should be burnt
and scattered, that his name should be removed from
every calendar, and that every antiphon in his honour
should be expunged from the Service Books !
The memorial of a great man is not in storied urn
or illuminated biography. His fame is sure as long
as his work is good and endures. When we honour
Thomas a Becket, we need not think of the ascetic
monk or the zealous champion of clerical ascendancy.
We can afford to leave unnoticed any miracles that
might (or might not) have been wrought by kneeling
before his fractured skull, or kissing his vermin-
stained hair shirt. His memory is distinctly un-
sectarian. We can all honour the son of the simple
Cheapside merchant, who, though not a noble by
birth, could break through feudal barriers and become
the highest minister of the kingdom. We can all
pay our tribute to the first Englishman who dared
to dispute the absolute power of the monarch, who
first ventured to deny the axiom that " the king
could do no wrong." The Tory owes to St. Thomas
the first inception of the English Constitution which
he considers so perfect ; the Radical, with his dreams
12
1/8 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS.
of ending or amending the House of Lords, may
thank St. Thomas of Canterbury for striking the first
blow at caste privileges.
I wanted to sit clown, after the crowd had passed
by, and muse upon all these things, but a remorseless
verger moved me on. I do not think it was (as the
Boy suggested) because he suspected that I harboured
any intention of stealing the Cathedral. No ! it was
not that. He was afraid that I zvas going to pray.
And it is very much contrary to the rules in
Canterbury Cathedral to pray, except during the
hours appointed for Divine service.
We were not in the mood to tolerate any more of
the guide's ramblings, and after a peep into the
chapel of the Martyrdom, we slipped out through
a side gate (fortunately left open by a party in
advance) and found there was just time to see
Higgins off by a fast train.
Here encleth the Pilirrimasre.
THE EPILOGUE.
CONTRIBUTED BY IIIGGINS.
NOT so fast, Mr. Reviewer ! Fair play's a jewel.
" Quousque tandem? Audi alteram partem!" Your
narrative must not be presented to a discriminating
public until a much-attacked and long-suffering
individual has been allowed an opportunity to clear
his character. At the eleventh hour the publisher
has placed this opportunity at the disposal of William
Henry Higgins.
Throughout the book one person has been held up
to consistent reprobation and ridicule Myself. One
person's schemes are always absurd, and come to
nought Mine. One person the historian invariably
chooses to moralise over Me.
Gentle reader, favour me with your courteous
attention. All the absurd and ridiculous schemes
are mine. The Reviewer's plans are always soundly
contrived and successful. He omits to tell you of
the number of times we were led astray into culs
de sac by the pretence that he knew every inch of
179
l8o EPILOGUE.
the country. He draws a veil over the wanderings
through the unlit streets of Wye until nearly mid-
night in search of lodgings all because his arrange-
ments were defective.
When he is tired of recounting my unsuccessful
devices, he accuses me of inordinate voracity. Per-
mit me to inform you that this apostle of temperance
ate and drank nearly twice as much as any three of
his companions, although he never omitted to season
our banquets with an exhortation against excess.
At Thurnham he was so overcome by his exertions
at table that he was unable to climb the hill without
assistance. He has glossed most hypocritically over
this episode.
One day during our excursion he declared that our
habit of stopping at every inn for refreshment was
distasteful to him. With this unkind reflection on
his comrades, he walked forward in company with
the Artist at a rapid rate, leaving us impeded with
the baggage. Shortly afterwards the Photographer
complained of feeling quite faint. His throat was
parched and feverish. I espied a little publichouse
not far off, and agreed to lead him thither and beg
for a glass of water. On knocking at the door, a
gruff and familiar voice greeted us with, " No tramps
wanted here." Nevertheless, I entered. There sat
our Artist and Reviewer opposite two immense
tankards. Comment is needless.
The most pointless and impossible stories are
fathered upon me. As a matter of fact I told some
CONTRIBUTED BY HIGGINS. l8l
very good stories, many of them partially true.
These are either ascribed to the Reviewer, or ignored
altogether.
I might fill many pages with equally curious side-
lights into the character of our Reviewer as a
truthful chronicler ; but there is only space remaining
for one revelation of a most terrible and astounding
o
nature.
When we agreed to rally under his banner we
believed that the intention was a demonstration to
a callous and unreasoning world a glorious revival
of privileges that had been long forgotten. We were
never more mistaken. The pilgrimage was only a
cloak under which this worthy was masquerading. I
am now about to tear off the mask. His real
purpose shall now be disclosed, in an account of his
proceedings after the train had left him standing
waving his last parting salutations on the plat-
form.
[ The Publisher regrets that he cannot see his way to
print the sixty-five pages in u'hich Mr. Higgins
recounts the subsequent adventures of an eminent
individual. He is deterred not only by want oj
space, but also by a rooted conviction that the Epilogue
to a Pilgrimage should differ considerably from a cheap
novelette. The nature of the Reviewer's aspirations
and their success can be sufficiently inferred from, the
concluding paragraph, u'hich has been spared accord-
ingly.}
182
EPILOGUE.
Along the Pilgrim's Way of the ages, two souls
will henceforth walk in company. May their path
be as free from care and as full of wholesome
pleasure as that which we five journeyed on to
Canterbury !
APPENDIX.
I.
TIIK REVIEWER RETALIATES.
FROM the very first inception of this work I knew
Higgins had made up his mind to contribute some
portion. Indeed, he volunteered his collaboration
and undertook the task of looking up authorities.
One October morning, having sent word to the office
that he felt unwell, he wended his way to the British
Museum reading-room, and ordered a series of useful
books on the topography of Kent. It may have
been due to the depression and awful loneliness that
assail every man who attempts to do any work in the
British Museum Library ; it may have been that the
presence of so much learning unhinged his mind for
the time being ; perhaps it was only the ordinary
vacillation and change of purpose characteristic of
Higgins. At any rate, that evening I received two
half sheets of foolscap in most villainous handwriting.
The task of deciphering the hieroglyphics was more
1 86 APPENDIX.
than I dared attempt, and I was obliged to send for
Higgins to interpret. I then discovered that a
portion (about ten lines) was transcribed from Lam-
bard's " Perambulation of Kent." The remainder
was a little impromptu composition a hymn suitable
for the use of young people at missionary gatherings.
So for the collection of material I am indebted to
other agencies and methods.
Meanwhile, he has been remaining quiet, lurking
in ambush, reserving to a fitting opportunity the
execution of his fell purpose, now revealed in his
Epilogue. He has counted on the last word. In
this plan he is foiled, for after the Epilogue comes
the author's speech. I am going to anticipate, gentle
reader, the call before the curtain.
Higgins lies at the mercy of the comrade whom he
has so treacherously exposed. How shall I avenge
myself? Shall I relate some of his amours. This
would be vain, for the envenomed dart of the god
has not yet discovered any vital spot. Can I
traduce his uncles ? No ! These apocryphal worthies
lie, their labours o'er, drowned in the depths of St.
Eustace's Well. From their eternal slumber it were
cruel to wake them. Let them rest in peace ! My
vengeance must be direct and summary, and shall
descend straight upon the devoted head of the
offender himself.
Higgins complains that I have been hard on him
that I have exaggerated his little shortcomings into
serious faults. On the contrary, I maintain that I
APPENDIX. 187
have dealt with him hitherto so kindly and charit-
ably, that those who know him will scarcely re-
cognise the Higgins of real life in the comparatively
sane and well-conducted character that appears in
the Pilgrimage. He especially complains that I have
ascribed to him a voracity of undue proportions. As
a matter of fact this is the special deadly sin of
Higgins that I most carefully endeavoured to tone
down and keep in the background.
Just one instance out of many may be related to
prove the truth of this contention. The other day
Higgins came to me and said :
" I've got a splendid thing in hand that I want you
to join me in. Down in the East-end I have dis-
covered the existence of a vault under an old chapel,
where centuries ago they used to bury thousands
upon thousands of Greeks and Moors. Suppose we
arrange some night to explore it ! "
Higgins had acquired all the necessary particulars
from oldest inhabitants, sextons, gas men, and the
like. There certainly was a vault, and a way down
to it, if his information was correct. As an archaeo-
logical discovery it would be most interesting to
verify. Besides, these Eastern people are always
buried with a lot of jewellery, gold, and precious
stones. At last, there was a real opportunity pre-
senting itself to amass wealth and escape from the
cruel drudgery of earning one's daily bread in tears
and sighing. Can you wonder that I eagerly con-
sented to join in the exploration ?
1 88 APPENDIX.
The pale rays of a December moon at midnight
shone their silver beams on an old building within a
court, reminding one of a Flemish Beguinage, and on
two individuals carefully disguised, who, accompanied
by a Hebrew concierge (bribed for the occasion),
stealthily inserted the key into the ancient lock and
disappeared into the interior. All was dark and silent
within, save for the creaking of our footsteps on the
rotten wooden floor. We walked on tip-toe, but the
starting boards woke ghostly echoes.
" St-t-top," whispered Higgins, his teeth chattering
with fright. " What's that ? "
Through the darkness one gleam of light shone on
the figure of a Bishop, whose hand seemed uplifted to
warn off the intruders. W r e stopped. I seemed to
recollect somehow that I ought to have been else-
where on that particular evening.
" Bah ! Dot vos only a light shining on the vinder
glass."
Our guide then showed, by placing himself be-
tween the window and the white pillar, that the rays
of a street lamp, shining on the stained glass, had
created the apparition that was giving Higgins such
a scare.
" Well, let's get to business," cried Higgins.
" Here's where the trap-door ought to be. You
take one crowbar, I'll take the other."
W'orking with a good will we soon loosened the
square of flooring, to be again startled by the patter-
ing of many feet all around the building.
APPENDIX. 189
" Bah, only rats," said our janitor, contemptuously.
The removal of the flooring revealed a ring in the
stonework beneath. With much exertion on the
part of all three we raised the cover and found a
well-like opening, about eighteen inches wide. Then
the question was who should descend first. I offered
to waive my claim in favour of the originator of the
expedition. He said the guide was the proper person
to lead the way ; but he was too fat !
In a weak moment I agreed to toss for the con-
tested point with Higgins ; of course I lost. Lower-
ing the lantern, I found myself in a low-arched
passage dripping with moisture and slime, about four
feet high, and of the same width. Higgins followed.
A misgiving had seized him. Suppose the guide
was to take advantage of our absence to replace the
stone cover and entomb us alive, in the hope of a
heavy ransom ! So I kindly offered to go home
forthwith and inform Higgins' relations of his peri-
lous position. Higgins implored me not to leave
him alone in that terrible place. I tried to console
him by reminding him that he was insured. Still he
continued to grumble, until I threatened to go back
and seal him up on my own account if he would not
stick to business and proceed.
We followed the passage for some distance, about
twenty yards, though it seemed like half a mile in the
stooping attitude to which we were constrained. A
fatal obstacle then intervened in the shape of a mass
of oozy black earth, which filled the entire tunnel.
1 90 APPENDIX.
Our crowbars could not discover its thickness ; our
labours were all in vain. We had to return disconso-
late, having achieved nothing worth mentioning !
On our walk home, after compensating the guide,
I tried to make Higgins understand what a serious
lesson this ought to be to him. For, will it be
believed, under the pretence of archaeological disco-
very, this ghoul, this body-snatcher, this veritable_/f de
siecle Sweeney Todd, actually contemplated robbing
whole rows of poor Syrian or Algerian skeletons of
what few precious trinkets their relations had spared
them. I shudder at the very idea. Still worse,
he proposed to make an accessory of one who has
always done his best to retain him in the paths of
rectitude !
And must I reveal the true reason that induced
Higgins to join the Pilgrimage?
\No,you must not ! The Publisher again intervenes.
If tiie Reviewer is ambitious to squander his share of
profits in libel actions, he is welcome to do so through
any channel he prefers excepting only these pages. ~\
THE PHOTOGRAPHER ARBITRATES.
Why is it that these two fellows are always at
loggerheads ! They are exactly agreed on every
question of theology, politics, and social economy.
They love each other like brothers, and are miserable
apart. And yet the whole journey from Holborn
APPENDIX. IQI
Viaduct to Canterbury is principally memorable for
their constant disputes and wrangles. I forget how
many times we had to hold them apart to prevent
them from killing each other. Can any one tell me,
wherefore is this thusness? The only cause of dif-
ference I can imagine is that, whereas they are both
determined and wilful, Higgins changes his mind
once in every twenty minutes, and the Reviewer sticks
to the same idea for upwards of a week.
The Boy is anxious that I should record the fact
that he is not coming on any more pilgrimages. At
dominoes there was always a combination against
him, and the only game of whist was played in the
train, and nearly ended in a disaster.
II.
THE TOMBS OF CATIGERN AND HORSA.
Among the older class of antiquaries the accepted
view with regard to Kit's Coty House is that main-
tained by Lambard, Stow, and Camden, viz., that it
is a monument to the British hero Catigern. The
great difficulty in connection with this view is that,
although the Britons are supposed to have been the
victors in the battle of Aylesford, their opponents
afterwards occupied the field of battle, and certainly
would not have permitted such a work to have been
erected. Bede and others make mention of a notable
memorial being erected to Horsa.
It is true that there is at Horsted an assemblage of
stones, which has certainly never been seen by any of
the writers who have been satisfied with believing
any tradition that this is the monument of Horsa.
But there is nothing about it to suggest either a
sepulchre or a memorial of any kind. It is only a
heap on the side of a hill, not forming a mound.
Nor is it possible to suppose that an invading army
of freebooters could spare the time or have the infi-
192
APPENDIX. 193
nite perseverance to ransack the neighbourhood for
parcels of small stones. This monument is evidently
the natural outcome of centuries of husbandry. The
stones were picked off the fields as they impeded the
plough, and carted to a place where they were out of
the way.
Colebrooke is the principal supporter of the theory
that Kit's Coty House is the missing monument to
Horsa. For his authorities I must refer the reader
to vol. ii. of the " Archaeologia." The tomb of
Catigern he places at Addington, the nearest place
fortified by the Britons, and, therefore, the most
probable point to which they would retreat. But
this latter supposition is pure conjecture. Wherever
the two heroes were buried there must have been a
certain amount of reprehensible carelessness in duly
marking the spot. For to each of them is ascribed
at least three distinct graves, the finest and best-
preserved tumulus being open to claim by either.
All kinds of theories are equally plausible. Maybe
the lower tumulus was intended in honour of Cati-
gern, and was abused and overturned by the vic-
torious Saxons. But then the adjacent fields arc
rich in British sepulchral remains, which in all pro-
bability belong to a period much more remote than
the battle of Aylesford.
Stow and Camden both declare, as a matter of
course, that " Kit's Coty House " is corruptly called
for Catigern's monument. Mr. Colebrooke, on the
contrary, apprehends that the nickname might have
194 APPENDIX.
been acquired from some old shepherd who resorted
to the place for shelter. Mr. Kains-Jackson connects
" Coty " with the Celtic Stone, or " King Arthur's
Quoit," in Glamorganshire. Yet another bolder
thinker, Mr. W. Boys, suggests (" Archaeologia," xi.)
that the original name was Kid-Cautey-Hors. "The
place of contention between Cautey and Horsa."
Catigern and Horsa were not exactly friends in
life, but it is just possible that in death they were not
divided. The circles at Addington, the flint heap at
Horsted, and the large stones mentioned by Hasted,
fade away in interest before the romantic suggestion
that the two opposing armies really did combine to
erect a worthy and imperishable monument to the
valour of their respective champions.
III.
OFFERINGS TO ST. BARTHOLOMEW AT OTFORD.
" It was long since fancied," says Lambard, " and
is yet of too many believed, that while Thomas
Becket lay at the olde house at Otford, (which of
long time belonged to the Archbishops, and whereof
the hall and Chapell only do now remaine,) and
sawe that it wanted a fit spring to water it, that
he strake his stafife into the drye grounde, in a
place thereof now called St. Thomas Well, and
that immediately water appeared, the whiche running
plentifully, serveth the offices of the new house till
this present day. They say also that, as he walked
on a time in the olde Parke, busie at his prayers,
that he was muche hindered in devotion by the
sweete note and melodic of a nightingale that sang
in a bush beside him, and that therefore (in the
myght of his holynesse) he enjoyned that from
henceforth no byrde of that kynde should be so
bolde as to sing thereaboutes. Some men report
likewise, that as much as a smithe then dwelling
in the towne, had cloyed his horse, he enacted by
196 APPENDIX.
like authority, that after that time no smith should
thrive within the parishe."
But " Beside this Thomas, there was holden in
great veneration at Otford, another saint, called
Bartilmew the Apostle, as I trowe, for his feast
daye was kept solemne both with a fayre, and
good fare there. This man served the person
[parson] as purveyour of his poultrie, and was
frequented by ye parishioners and neighbours about
for a most rare and singular propertie he possessed ;
for ye manner was, yf any woman, conceived with
child, desired to bring forth a male, she should offer
to Saint Bartholomewe a cocke chicken ; and if her
wishe were to be delivered of a female, she should
present him with a hen. Assuredly through the
fraude of this foxe, the country people (as wise
as capons) were many years together robbed of
their hennes and cockes : till at the length it
chaunced King Henry the Eight, after exchange
made with the Archebishop for this Manor of Otford
to have conference with some of the towne about
the enlarging of his parke there ; amongst the which
one called Maister Robert Multon, (a man whom
for the honest memorie of his godly zeal and vertuous
life I sticke not to name,) detesting the abuse, and
espying the Prince inclined to heare, unfolded unto
him the whole packe of the idolatrie, and prevailed
so farre in favor that shortly after, the King com-
manded St. Bartholomewe to be taken downe and
deliverede him."
APPENDIX. 197
The connection of this practice with St. Bar-
tholomew may be presumed to be accidental. In
all probability the custom dates from a period long
anterior to the time when the church received its
dedication in honour of the famous relic of St.
Bartholomew at Canterbury.
Pn'ss,
UXWIN BROTHERS,
\VOKIXU AND I.OXDOX.
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A CYCLOPAEDIA OF ARCHITEC-
TURE. In Italy, Greece, and the Levant.
Edited by W. P. P. LONGFELLOW. Limited
Edition of 500 copies, 50 of which are for
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MADAGASCAR AND THE MALA-
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With Map. Demy 8vo, cloth, 2 is.
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Mahanoro to Antananarivo ii. Imerina, the Central
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Antananarivo, the Capital : Its Public Buildings,
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Memorial and other Churches, and Religious and
Charitable Institutions iv. The Changing Year in
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Social Customs' of the People, and Varied Aspects of the
Months v. The Crater Lake of Tritriva : Its Physical
Features and Legendary History and the Volcanic
Regions of the Interior vi. Ambatovor, one of our
Holiday Resorts in Madagascar vii. Malagasy Place-
names viii. Curious Words and Customs connected
with Chieftainship and Royalty among the Malagasy,
and Notes on Relics of the Sign and Gesture Language
ix. Malagasy Folk-Lore and Poptdar Superstitions x.
Malagasy Oratory, Ornaments of Speech, SymlxMic
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Children's Games, and Mythical Creatures xii. Mala-
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the Malagasy xv. Decorative Can-ing on Wood,
especially on the Burial Memorials of the Betsileo Mala-
gasy, together with Notes on the Handicrafts of the Mala-
gasy and Native Products xvi. Odd and Curious
Experiences of Life in Madagascar -xix. The Birds of
Madagascar with Notes on their Hab ts, and Habitats
and their connection with Native Folk-Lore and Super-
stition xxi. A Quarter-Century of Change and Progress:
Antananarivo and Madagascar Twenty-Five Years Ago
and Now.
CLIMBS IN THE NEW ZEALAND
ALPS : Being an Account of Discovery
and Travel. By E. A. FlTzGEKALD,
F.R.G.S. With 50 Original Drawings by
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ARCHITECTURE IN ITALY. From
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CATTANEO. Translated by the Contessa
ISABEL CURTIS-CHOI. MELEY in Bermani.
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CLIMBING REMINISCENCES OF
THE DOLOMITES. By LEONE SINI-
GAGLIA. Translated by MARY ALICE
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4 MR. T. FISHER UNWIN'S
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IN THE KINGDOM OF THE SHAH.
Being the Journey of a Medical man through
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F.R.C.S. Demy 8vo. About 264 pp. 37
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THE NEAR EAST. Ready October,
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THE LONDON BURIAL GROUNDS.
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MR. T. FISHER UNWINDS
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The book is written in a chatty style, and the informa-
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MODERN SCIENTIFIC WHIST. By
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THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GIRO-
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THE COUNTRY OF HORACE AND
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PHASKS OF LIFE. Household Gods of Victor Hugo
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THK LATIN QUARTKR.- -The Quarter by Day The
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MALOMBRA : A Novel. By ANTONIO
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best embody the racial characteristics of the people in
their most sine-re and sympathetic manner, and around
these chara.-ters he weaves stories which, in the dramatic
interest, are condensed and mouvementces, and in which
the characters are allowed to develop themselves. The
obvious ingenuousness of the narrator (in whose judg-
men'.s and appreciations of the characters introduced the
judicious reader will probably not always feel called
upon to concur) must be a testimony to their truth and
element in their freshness.
THE PORTUGUESE IN SOUTH
AFRICA. With a description of the
Native Races between the River Zambesi
and the Caps of Good Hope during the
Sixteenth Century. By GEORGE McCALL
THEAL, LL.D., of the Queen's University,
Kingston, Canada ; Foreign Member of the
Academy of Arts and Sciences, Utrecht,
Holland ; Corresponding member of the
Royal Historical Society, London, England ;
Honorary Member of the Literary Associa-
tion at Leiden, of the Commission for
preparing a H istory of the Wa lloon Churches
SELECTED LIST.
and of the Historical Society of Utrecht ;
formerly Keeper of Archives of the Cape
Colony, and present Colonial Historio-
grapher ; Author of " South Africa " in the
Story of the Nation Series. Crown 8vo,
cloth gilt, 6s.
SEVEN ESSAYS, Historical and Critical.
By H. SCHUTZ WILSON, Author of "Alpine
Ascents and Adventures," " Studies and
Ronuinc.es," " Poets and Theologians," " 'Tis
Sixty Years Since," "Studies in History,
Legend and Literature," &c., &c. Crown
8vo, cloth, f,s.
SILVIO BARTHOLI, Painter. By
KMMA BENTI.EY. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.
There are few who know Italy who have not felt the
charm of the real artist's studio ; the facts that look
down upon us from the walls, with their varied tales of
love and hate, of suffering and of hope, the old well-
worn furniture, familiar to us in the pictures we love so
well, the unfinished canvas on the easel. Here is the
painter, with his hopes, aspirations, patient working out
of his ideal, even by his failures. Hence Silvio Bartholi.
While the figure of the venerable priest, tieading his
path of faith through the varied difficulties that the
present age has woven around it, will surely have an
interest for those who want to go below the surface in
considering the great question of the Unity of the
Church.
ENGLISH STUDIES. By the late
JAMES DARMESTETER. Translated by MARY
DARMESTETER. With Portrait. Crown 8vo.
cloth, 6s. [Ready March i$lh.
f * -phe B 00 k includes: "Joan of Arc in England,'
" Tlie French Revolution and Wordsworth," and " The
Life of George Eliot."
12 J//v>. r. FISHER UN WIN'S
A WINNING HAZARD. By Mrs.
ALEXANDER, Author of " The Wooing O'T."
Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.
An interesting love story, full of human nature, good
and I) id characters, lively conversation, and exciting
incidents, is appreciated by all classes of readers. Few
novelists have obtaineil so warm a place in the hearts of
lovers of good stories as Mrs. Alexander, the Author of
" The Admiral's Ward," " By Woman's Wit," " The
Wooing O't," &c. She is a woman of sympathetic
nature, cheerful disposition, and with considerable in-
tuition. Mrs. Alexander was born in Ireland. Her
father was a member of the famous Kildare Hunt. She
values greatly a portrait of a paternal ancestor, Lord
Annaly, painted in his peer's robes. He was one of the
Gore family, of whom no fewer than nine members sat
in Parliament before the Union. Jeremy Taylor and the
Rev. Charles Wolfe were practically the only ancestors
of Mrs. Alexander to whom she can point as distinguished
for literary inclinations. Mrs. Alexinder is a leisurely
writer. She says she can do her best work in London
(where "A Winning Hazard" was written), and that
the great city "inspires her." To know Mrs. Alexander
is to love her, and her books contain much of her in-
dividuality.
Ube Criminology Series.
Edited by W. DOUGLAS MORRISON, M.A., Chaplain of
H.M.'s Prison, Wandsworth. Large crown 8vo,
cloth, 6s. each.
(3) OUR JUVENILE OFFENDERS.
By W. DOUGLAS MORRISON, Author of
" Jews under the Romans," &c.
In this volume Mr. Douglas Morrison, the General
Editor of the Series, will deal with the extent and charac-
ter of juvenile crime. He will show the effect of sex and
age on criminal tendencies, and will describe the geo-
graphical distribution of the juvenile criminal population.
He will discuss the physical and mental characteristics of
the juvenile offender : his parental condition, his social
condition, his economic condition. Finally, he will deal
with the institutions at present in existence for reclaiming
the young criminal, and the methods which are most
SELECTED LIST. 13
likely to be successful in attaining this result. Mr.
Morrison lias a vast amount of |X'rsonal experience behind
him, and his work will derive additional interest from
the fact that he is dealing with a subject which he knows
at first hand.
MODERN POLITICAL ORATIONS.
Edited by LEOPOLD WAGNER, Author of
" Names and their Meanings." Crown 8vo,
cloth, 6s.
CONTAINS: Lord Salisbury Joseph Chamberlain
John Hums John Morley "Lord Beaconsfield W. E.
Gladstone John Bright Chas. Bradlaugh T. P.
O'Connor Lord Brougham Lord Palmerston -Richard
Cobden Daniel O'Connell Lord Macaulay Robert
Peel Duke of Wellington.
The published speeches of individual British statesmen
have long adorned our library shelves, but this volume
is a distinct new departure. It embraces the finest
examples of Political Oratory of the Victorian Era, that
is to say, from Lord Brougham down to Mr. Asquith,
the present Home Secretary. While the Editor's aim
has been to include only such s]>eakers as could justly
claim to be orators in the accepted sense of the term.
preference has been given to those speeches, in or out of
Parliament, which created the greatest impression upon
the public mind at the time of their delivery. A work of
this nature should prove very acceptable to politicians,
and none the less so to the general reader interested in
the affairs of his country.
POEMS AND SONNETS. By J. A.
OsiiORNE. With Portrait. Foolscap 8vo,
cloth, 55.
As appears from internal evidence, most of the poems
in this little book were written nearly half a century ago.
Not for seven years only, but more nearly seven times
seven, they have been held back. A long and laborious
interval of professional life separates the authorship from
the publication of them, so that the writer may be re-
garded now, and regards himself, rather as the editor than
the author of the book. They are offered to the public
:it last in deference to the wishes of others who would
not be satisfied -with less in the Author's lifetime, and
threatened more after his death.
i 4 *fR. T. FISHER UNWL\ 'S
Stors of tbe IRations.
flew
Large crown 8vo., with Maps and Illustrations, cloth,
5s. each.
(1) THE WEST INDIES AND THE
SPANISH MAIN. By JAMES ROD\\ AY,
F.L.S., Author of "In the Guiana Forest."
(2) BOHEMIA. By C. E. MAURICE,
Author of " The Revolutionary Movement
of 1848-49 in Italy, Austria, Hurgary,
and Germany."
SCHILLER'S SONG OF THE BELL.
Translated by A. G. FOSTER- BARH AM
Twelve Illustrations by W. A. PHILLIPS.
Oblong 8vo, cloth, 55. net.
This is probably the most charming edition of
Schiller's poem ever issued. The publisher has t>een
fortunate m securing the pictures of Mr. Phillips to
illustrate the work. No more delightful gift book could
l>e conceived.
Second Edition. With Fresh Introduction and New
Stories.
DOG STORIES FROM "THE SPEC-
TATOR." : Being Anecdotes of the
Intelligence, Reasoning Power, Affection,
and Sympathy of Dogs, selected from the
Correspondence columns of The Spectator.
With an Introduction by J. ST. Lor.
STRACHEV. Crown 8vo, cloth, 55.
THE EVERGREEN. A Northern
Seasonal. Part III. Summer. Price 55.
net.
SELECTED LIST.
" Tin- Evergreen " is printed mi :nii MJIH paper, by
Messrs. Constable-, of Edinburgh, with coloured cover,
fashioned in leather, by C. H. Mackie. The " Hook of
Spring," was published in Miv, and is now followed by
the " I?o >k of Autumn." The " Rook of Summer "
will appear in May, 181)6, and the " Rook of Winter" in
November, 1896. Kachpartispublishedat5s.net. The
complete series of four volunivs may be subscribed for at
/i, post free.
jftction.
THE STATEMENT OF STELLA
MABERLY. By HEKSFI.K.
In ihis narrative "Stella Maberly " tells the story of
the crime of which she is accused, and attempts To
palliate her deed by representing herself as the victim of
a supernatural and strangely horrible persecution, which
she was justified in resisting by every mean 1 ', in her power.
The storv is lucidly written, and there is li tie to indicate
the actual state of the writer's mind beyond the extra-
ordinary nature o!' the delusion in which she is apparently
a firm believer.
The Publisher has undertaken to keep the Authcr's
identity a secret for the present.
PAUL HEINSIUS. By CORA LVSTEK.
This studv of Teutonic egotism, appears at a time
when the English mind is largely occupied with the
latest and most sensational development of German
bumptiousn-ss. It is an unvarnished study in black and
white, by one who has long resided in the Fatherland,
of a typical young German of the middle class, a harmless
young man, swollen with an overweening idea of his
own importance, inflated with the gross vanity wlr'ch is
fast becoming his country's curse. How po;>t Paul,
deeming himself irreproachable, and woefully \vfcke -Uy
destitute of the saving grace of humour, aspires to fame
(an acquisition of the English language)- and fortune
(that of a homely, unattractive, but extremely sensible
young woman) is succinctly related in this unpreten-
tious volume.
1 6 MR. T. FISHER UNWINDS
GINETTE'S HAPPINESS. Being a
Translation by RALPH DERECHEF of " Le
Bonheur de Ginette," by GYP.
* a ' s Tlie original of this work has run into nine editions
in France.
The very talented lady, the Comtesse de Martel, who
writes under the pseudonym of " Gyp," has so niversal
a reputation lor writing dialogue of unequalled brilliancy
and wittiness, that it is superfluous to insist on this
feature of her work. It is perhaps less generally known
that " Gyp " can divise a story of the most genuine
human interest, and tell it in masterly style. Her latest
novel offers abundant proof that she possesses these
faculties in a very high degree. There is infinite pathos
in her sketch of the loveless life, and brief spell of
happiness of Ginette, while this serious note is not
allowed to interfere with the humorous interest amply-
provided for by the development of the minor characters.
SILK O' THE KINE. By L. McMANfs,
Author of " Amabel : A Military Romonce."
SILENT GODS AND SUN-
STEEPED LANDS. By R. W.
FRAZER. With 4 full-page Illustrations by
A. I). McCORMICK. Second and cheaper
edition.'
ZTbe jflDermaifc Series.
1We\v Dolumes.
Post 8vo, about 500 pages, Frontispiece, cloth, js. 6d. each
THE SELECT PLAYS OF SIR JOHN
VANBRUGH. Edited, with an Intro-
duction and Notes, by A. E. H. SWAEN.
This new volume of the Mermaid Series contains all
the original plays by John Vanbrugh, one of the four
great Dramatists of the Restoration, with copious notes
enabling the general reader of the present day to enjoy
to the full comedies that have been praised for their
humour by no less a critic than Leigh Hunt. A special
SELECTED LIST. 17
feature of the Introduction will he the new light thrown
upon Vanbrugh's birth, parentage, and marriage. At the
present time we are able to fix the dates of many
important events in the author's life, and to replace
many erroneous conjectures by facts. In size and general
arrangement the book will be an exact counterpart of
" Congreve " and " Wycherlev, " whilst the text is, too, a
faithful and unexpurgat'd reprint of the plays as
originally brought upon the stage.
NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS: An
Account of a Pilgrimage to Canterbury via
the Ancient Pilgrims' Way. By HENRY
PARR. With 50 pen and ink sketches by
' F. W. R. ADAMS. Crown 8vo, cloth, 35. 6d.
A wild, almost deserted track, running through the
heart of Kent, and perhaps British in origin, is tradi-
tionally associated with the pilgrims to the Shrine of
St. Thomas of Canterbury. Some of the most interesting
antiquities and scenery to be found in the county lies
upon the route. The book includes descriptions of
Otford, Kemsing, \Vrotlnm, The Stone Circles, Kits
Coty House, Boxley, Lenham, Wye, Chilham, &c., &c.
Alter the precedent of Chaucer and Erasmus, the author
beguiles the tedium of the way with humorous narrative,
sometimes at the expense of his fellow pilgrims. A map
is provided for the guidance of any who may be induced
to follow in the explorer's footsteps.
THE REAL JAPAN : Studies of Contem-
porary Japanese Manners, Morals, Admini-
stration, and Politics. By HENRY NORMAN.
With 40 Illustrations. Fourth Edition.
Crown 8vo, cloth, 33. 6d.
THE PSYCHOLOGY OF CROWDS.
By GUSTAVE LERON. Crown 8vo, cloth,
3s. 6d.
Under the title of the PsychohRy of Crwil.t. M.
Gustave Lebon has written a work in which he discusses
the wild excitement and passionate excesses into which
1 8 MR. T. FISHER UX WIN'S
assemblages of jxjople arc liable to lie betrayed. A
ero\v, paper, is. ; cloth, (jilt lop, js. cacli.
(8) OWEN ROE O'NEILL. By J. F.
TAYLOR, (J.C.
(g) SWIFT IN IRELAND. By RICHARD
ASHK KING, M.A.
Swift diil many memorable things, but that for which
in his epitaph he wished most lobe remembered was his
work in Ireland : yet by his biographers generally his
work in Ireland is treated as incidental. In " Swift in
Ireland " an attempt is made to tfive an adequate account
of his work in that country and its success, and of all
tint contributed to his work and its success the state of
Ireland, the state of England, Swift s character, education,
environment, the motives which inspired his crusade. and
the powers which conducted it.
(io.) A SHORT LIFE OF THOMAS
DAVIS. By Sir CHARLES GAVAN DCFFY.
fellow Xibran?.
A bijou series printed on yellow paper (6| by 3^), is.
paper ; 2s. cloth.
Vol. i. SIMON RYAN THE PETER-
ITE. By CANON AUGUSTUS JESSOPP, D.I).,
Hon. Canon of Norwich Cathedral, Hon.
Fellow of S. John's College, Cambridge,
and Worcester College, Oxford. Author of
" Arcady," '' For Better for Worse," " Ran-
dom Roaming," &c.
This Is a weird and most pathetic little story. Thf
hero is a man, who in early life, lost his reason from the
shock of an only brother,* sudden death, and recovered
from it, only to become the victim of a religious delusion.
Tlu peculiar form of this delusion, the way in which it
24 MR. T. FISHER UNWINDS LIST.
mixed itself with his daily life, and the strange vagaries
it led him into, are vividly set before the reader, who
finds himself in the strangest of situations, and with the
most unusual of companions. He may remember some
of the author's earlier papers, which tell of " weird
affections," of "dreams "and "shadows of dreams," and
may wonder whether this is only a dream, or whether it
can actually be true, but the power of its minute descrip-
tions, placing him in the very midst of the scenes, and
amongst the people described, leaves him no doubt that
it is so.
Vol. 2. MARSENA. By HAROLD
FREDERIC, Author of " The Young Em-
peror."
There are stories enough of actual battle in the
American Civil War to constitute a literature by itself,
but of the effects of that terrible and prolonged conflict
upon the life and minds of those who remained at home,
Mr. Harold Frederic has made a unique specialty. His
series of tales, embodying his boyish observations of
that period, when almost every family at the North was
represented in the armies at the front, have attracted
much attention here as well as in the United States,
where they are compared to the work of Mr. Erckmann-'
Chatrian.
Vol. 3. THE MYSTERY OF
LAUGHLIN'S ISLAND. By
Louis BECKE, Author of " By Reef and
Palm."
STUDIES IN BLACK AND WHITE.
By LADY HENRY SOMERSET. Paper is.
IHnwin's Sijpenns Stories.
For details see Special List.
Mr. Unwin has in preparation, for regular issue, a
series of original Novels of from twenty to thirty
thousand words, which he will publish at the price of
6d. each. Six volumes arc in the printers' hands, and
any others arranged for.
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