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<S NKW WIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 sacked, and how at last he had been slain by the 
 magical arts of these island sorcerers. 
 
 " But the guide-book says there's another crom- 
 lech further down the hill. Where does that come in ? " 
 
 No one but Higgins would have interrupted in 
 that unseasonable way. Higgins always wants a 
 theory that brings in everything within a four-mile 
 radius. I knew all about that other cromlech now 
 mutilated and overthrown by some last-century 
 seeker after treasure but I had purposely left it out, 
 hoping that none of the others would discover it. 
 Higgins had spoilt everything, and all my beautiful 
 story toppled to pieces like a house of cards. No ! I 
 could not account for the other cromlech. Life is too 
 short to spend in hunting about for the meaning of 
 every heap of paving-stones I come across. 
 
 It is not at all probable that one is the tomb of 
 Catigern. Two hostile armies are not likely to put 
 up monuments of their fallen leaders within a stone's 
 throw of each other. If they had agreed as much as 
 that they would have gone further and formed a 
 syndicate to erect an extra fine and large monument 
 to enshrine the pair of heroes, so that they might 
 fight their battles together through endless ages in 
 Valhalla. 
 
 " Perhaps," suggested the Boy, " they built two 
 monuments so that the Britons should not know 
 where to look if they wished to dig up Horsa." 
 
 " Not likely, Boy," I replied. " The desecration of 
 the dead is a product of modern civilisation."
 
 CATICKKX AND IIORSA. 99 
 
 " Besides," added the Artist, " duplication cheapens, 
 even when it does not destroy distinction. It savours 
 of Italy rather than Jutland, and it involves unfore- 
 seen difficulties. I can tell you a story to illustrate 
 this point." 
 
 As the Artist was the only one of the party who 
 had not as yet contributed to our entertainment, we 
 pressed him to continue.
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 MKRODAI! AND SIf AKOXKSKR, 
 Or tlic Perils of Duplicated Distinction. 
 
 SOMK fifty centuries ago or maybe nine and forty 
 In the midst of Asia Minor dwelt a monarch rich and 
 
 haughty. 
 He ruled o'er territories vast, but where ? 'tis now a 
 
 mystery ; 
 No particulars occur in Dr. Butler's " Ancient 
 
 History." 
 
 What use are rank and riches if the fates are not 
 
 propitious ? 
 Or what are territories vast when subjects get 
 
 seditious ? 
 For reasons that have not transpired they slaughtered 
 
 him while sleeping, 
 And a bold and bad Usurper took the State into his 
 
 keeping.
 
 (From an ancient Assvruui Slab.)
 
 IO2 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 When revolutions happen in a region Asiatic, 
 
 They clean out heirs-apparent in a manner sys- 
 tematic. 
 
 The late king's sons and daughters with his nephews 
 and his nieces 
 
 Were by trusty Arab scimitars reduced to sundry 
 pieces. 
 
 The darlings of the harem and the lovely Maids of 
 Honour, 
 
 Found a less ungraceful exit with the aid of bella- 
 donna. 
 
 But their fathers and their uncles were despatched 
 with butcher's axes, 
 
 And the remnants floated seawards down that classic 
 stream Araxes. 
 
 Another twenty years rolled by ; repentance came in 
 
 season, 
 For the bold and bad Usurper's rule was worthy of his 
 
 treason. 
 The poor rate and the income tax increased to more 
 
 than double, 
 And the public baths and washhouses were always 
 
 causing trouble. 
 
 Again the tide of revolutions swept across the nation, 
 
 And trusty scimitars once more found lively occupa- 
 tion. 
 
 The bold Usurper shared the fate of some distin- 
 guished people, 
 
 And had his head erected on the summit of a steeple.
 
 MEKODA1) AND SHAKONESKR. 103 
 
 Then, just when public matters reached this critical 
 
 condition, 
 
 A charwoman of ninety made her dying deposition. 
 " 'Twas in the palace years ago I saved from would-be 
 
 seize r 
 One princelet of the royal race whose name is 
 
 Shakoneser. 
 
 " I rescued Shakoneser from the melancholy scrim- 
 mage 
 
 Determined to adopt and rear the little regal image. 
 
 And with the true devotion of an ancient highland 
 gillie 
 
 I hid him in a jar which had been labelled ' picallilli.' 
 
 " 1 bore him to my humble home in quite a state of 
 flutter 
 
 To think a royal prince was going to share my bread 
 and butter. 
 
 A funny notion struck me then for like as is two 
 peas, sir, 
 
 Was my own youngest Merodab, and little Shak- 
 oneser. 
 
 " What I wanted was to puzzle the detectives who 
 came prying, 
 
 So I hit upon a very artful plan there's no denying 
 
 I mixed the two and now it's quite impossible for 
 me, sir, 
 
 To tell you which is Merodab and which is Shak- 
 oneser.
 
 IO4 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 " On each the royal trade-mark the double-headed 
 
 raven 
 (Without which none is genuine) you'll find it duly 
 
 graven. 
 I feel I overdid the job 'twould be a conscience- 
 
 easer 
 Could I tell you which was Merodab, and which was 
 
 Shakoneser." 
 
 She spake, and then her weary soul flew off to 
 
 heavenly splendour, 
 Bequeathing to the legatees two saucepans and a 
 
 fender, 
 Three silver spoons, a cuckoo clock, a wig, a lemon 
 
 squeezer, 
 And the problem which was Merodab and which was 
 
 Shakoneser. 
 
 ***** 
 
 Innumerable messengers were sent to make inquiries 
 At the oracles of Hermes, Zeus, Apollo, or Osiris. 
 From Trophonius was brought this curiosity ap- 
 
 peaser 
 " The one that is not Merodab is truly Shakoneser." 
 
 The best-esteemed philosophers were sought in due 
 
 rotation ; 
 They replied, " One certain factor we must have in 
 
 each equation, 
 
 Given this, to us no problem in quadratics is a teaser ; 
 But we don't know which is Merodab and which is 
 
 Shakoneser."
 
 MERODAB AND SHAKONESER. IO5 
 
 And so, an ancient race died out for want of a suc- 
 cessor, 
 
 A loyal people lacked a duly qualified oppressor ; 
 
 For they never gained the privilege of shouting " Ave 
 Caesar ! " 
 
 Never found out which was Meroclab and which was 
 Shakoneser. 
 
 No matter ! Let dull care depart ! Away with tears 
 
 and sighing ! 
 The scythe of time hath cut the knot that was beyond 
 
 untying 
 This palaeolithic riddle needn't worry you and me, 
 
 sir, 
 For dead as nails is Merodab, and so is Shakoneser. 
 
 " One of the finest and most striking features in the 
 poem," I remarked, " is the splendid and costly piece 
 of engineering by which the river Araxes is carried 
 through the middle of Asia Minor, and made to serve 
 the double purpose of an undertaker and a rhyme for 
 ' Axes.' " 
 
 " The whole get up of the poem is regardless of 
 expense," said Higgins. " But isn't there some un- 
 ' necessary bloodshed? The morbid influence of the 
 graveyard is too pronounced throughout. In the 
 second verse we have a regicide. The third and 
 fourth are devoted to wholesale slaughter. In the 
 seventh verse another regicide occurs, and the eighth 
 to the thirteenth verses describe a death-bed scene. 
 In the seventeenth verse the news is broken to us that
 
 106 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 the hero and his foster brother are both dead. And 
 yet in the very same verse the poet in off-handed cal- 
 lousness states that all this is ' No matter,' and bids 
 us jump for joy. This is quite out place. What we 
 ought to do is to pause and shed a tear over the un- 
 timely end of each of these individuals and draw 
 useful and improving lessons for our own moral 
 guidance." 
 
 " I meant to have done so," replied the Artist. 
 " But I ran short of rhymes for Shakoneser." 
 
 " And yet you have not used half the rhymes that 
 you might have done," retorted Higgins. " A touching 
 funeral oration might have been delivered in a chapel 
 known as Ebenezer. The text might have been 
 taken from the Codex Beza. Casual reference might 
 be made to Tiglath Pilezer. But apart from all such 
 matters which might be considered out of place, 
 ' greaser,' ' sneezer,' ' tweezer,' ' freezer,' all deserve a 
 chance, and in the hands of a man of genius would 
 have got it." 
 
 " I should like to tell you the story of Mr. Briggs's 
 umbrella," interposed the Photographer, " because it 
 illustrates the opposite side of the question. If there 
 are disadvantages in duplicated distinction, some- 
 times distinction pure and simple leads to disasters.. 
 
 " Ten years ago Jonathan Briggs was one of the 
 most promising of all the rising race of stockbrokers. 
 He was methodical, enterprising, and had a good 
 connection. Everybody prophesied great things of 
 him. By this time he would have been well on the
 
 MERODAB AND SHAKONESER. 1O? 
 
 way to making a considerable fortune but for that 
 fatal fault a love of originality in his personal 
 appearance. 
 
 " So long as this fault only took the form of parti- 
 coloured ties, and the wearing of artificial flowers in 
 his button-hole, little notice was taken. But prudent 
 people began to shake their heads when Briggs 
 appeared in a blue silk skull-cap, instead of being 
 content to go about Threadneedle Street in the 
 orthodox bareheaded manner. Then came the 
 umbrella. 
 
 " Brigg s na d lost several umbrellas. Some he left 
 in the train ; others at various eating-houses and 
 offices. Some were borrowed by friends. So at last 
 he got tired and decided to invent an umbrella which 
 could not possibly be mistaken that the whole city 
 might get to know, and so he would secure the 
 double advantage of protecting his property and a 
 splendid advertisement. 
 
 " The umbrella was really something startling. 
 The handle was a parrot's head, beautifully carved. 
 Round the neck was a plate, engraved with Mr. 
 Briggs's name and business address. In order that 
 it might be recognised when in use, just above the 
 ferrule there was a bulb of brass, like one of the 
 turrets on the Alhambra. 
 
 "Briggs got very proud of his umbrella. It was 
 illustrated in several of the weekly papers, and 
 positively couldn't get lost. Everybody knew it 
 and identified the owner. Nobody dared steal it
 
 108 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 because detection was certain. But by and by the 
 drawbacks were discovered. Everybody got to know 
 Briggs much too well. When the tax collector or 
 the gas man called, it was no use saying that Briggs 
 was not at home. They spotted the umbrella in the 
 hall, and refused to leave till they were paid. And 
 so he rapidly became poor. 
 
 " And then the time wasted in interviewing people 
 who wanted to see him out of curiosity, autograph 
 hunters and the like ; people who had invented 
 patent umbrellas, and travellers who had new sorts 
 of walking sticks, hat guards, eyeglasses, or even 
 baby-carriages. There seemed no chance of his 
 making his way while this went on. His hair 
 became grey, and his clothes more threadbare every 
 day. 
 
 " He determined to lose the umbrella. So he took 
 it to a distant suburb and threw it over a garden 
 wall. That night there was a burglary in the adjoin- 
 ing house. The detectives found Briggs's umbrella, 
 and the finger of suspicion was pointed against its 
 owner. 
 
 " Again, he tried to get rid of it and buried it in 
 the back yard. But the dog next door scratched it 
 up again and left it in a dark passage, where a man 
 stumbled over it and impaled himself on the spire. 
 He brought a heavy action for damages against 
 Briggs. To save himself from ruin the latter em- 
 barked for America with all the cash he could 
 collect. He took his umbrella with him, and in
 
 MERODAB AND SIIAKONKSKR. IOQ 
 
 consequence his movements were tracked by the 
 detectives. By the skin of his teeth he eluded them 
 and reached Texas. Finally some Mexican bully 
 shot him in a Durango bar because he said that a 
 man with an umbrella like that made him feel ill."
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 TIIK HOLY ROOD OK BOXLEY. 
 
 OUR path as usual skirted the richly wooded slopes 
 at the edge of the valley, and so we passed close by 
 the church at Boxley, noted for its curious western 
 porch. Lambard says that the village takes its name 
 " from the Box trees which peradventure grew there." 
 Would that a similar caution had always accom- 
 panied the statements of that highly imaginative 
 father of Kentish guide-book writers ! There are 
 springs issuing from the chalk in this neighbourhood 
 containing so much lime in solution that twigs and 
 similar wooden articles can be petrified in less than 
 three months. 
 
 With Boxley is connected one of those beautiful 
 fables of my childhood which, with age and experi- 
 ence, I have had to reluctantly discard. When I 
 was a boy at an old Kentish grammar school I was 
 taught to believe that at the Abbey, whose meagre 
 ruins are to be found a few hundred yards from the 
 church, there was a famous image known as the 
 Rood of Grace, from which an immense revenue was
 
 THE HOLY ROOD OF HOXLKV. Ill 
 
 derived. There were springs and subtle machinery 
 within it, and these were employed to control the 
 offering of the pilgrims. If a small coin was pre- 
 sented, the idol frowned in displeasure, and wagged 
 its head ; a shilling produced a nod ; half-a-crown a 
 pleasing smile ; while for ten shillings, it might even 
 be induced to spread out its hands and bless the 
 lavish worshipper. I believed this implicitly till a 
 tour in Mexico and Guatemala introduced me to the 
 movable images still in vogue among the peasantry 
 in those countries, and I learnt their purpose, partly 
 as aids to a picturesque ceremonial, partly (like the 
 serpent on which the Virgin treads in a church in 
 Guatemala, and which opens its mouth and squeaks 
 when its tail is pinched) for the amusement of a 
 people still in a state of childhood. Doubts began 
 to assail me, and these have since been confirmed 
 by the efforts of the conscientious antiquaries who 
 have waded through the ancient records. The Rood 
 of Boxley was no very wonderful piece of mechanism ; 
 its motions were few and so simply obtained that the 
 most careless person could not help detecting them. 
 Hoker, the local authority, says that all its move- 
 ments were controlled from outside. Its eyes were 
 closed, and its arms made to hang down or cross on 
 its breast, in order that it might be laid in a tomb 
 on Good Friday and resume its ordinary posture 
 on the Cross on Easter Day. One might as well 
 attempt to conjure with an artist's lay figure, or a 
 doctor's skeleton.
 
 112 NEW WIIKKLS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 " But how do you dispose of the authorities who 
 vouch for the impostures ? " remonstrated the Artist. 
 "It is not so easy to run down history with a new 
 version. You have not explained the indignation of 
 the populace on the discovery of the secret spring, or 
 the Sermon at Paul's Cross." 
 
 " As to the authorities," I replied, " they disagree 
 so completely, and, with the exception of Lambard, 
 are nearly all so far from being contemporary, that 
 little notice need be taken of them. I base my con- 
 clusion on the report of the Commissioners who 
 abolished the Abbey and liberally pensioned the 
 Abbot and his monks. The image was then ex- 
 hibited at Maidstone, where it excited little attention. 
 Some rewarded the zeal of the reformers with a 
 guffaw, others were angry at the irreverence. It was 
 only when it was taken to London and exhibited 
 (after an exciting sermon) to people who were 
 unacquainted with local facts that there was any 
 desire of the populace to burn it as a deceitful idol." 
 
 " Country people are so awfully simple," objected 
 the Artist. " Look at their superstitions at the pre- 
 sent day." 
 
 " Country people are superstitious," I admitted. 
 " But their superstition takes a different form. The 
 rustic lives in the midst of Nature, and he is often 
 overawed by its mysteries. To the end of the world 
 he will find something uncanny in woods and streams 
 and plants. Haunted ruins, holy wells, moonlight 
 witchcraft, will always be found effective methods of
 
 THE HOLY ROOD OF BOXLEY. 113 
 
 inducing a peasant to do that which he would other- 
 wise be disinclined. Beyond these, the countryman 
 is a strange mixture of cuteness and indifference. On 
 any device of city manufacture he will look partly 
 with suspicion, partly with a mild contemptuous 
 toleration. Winking Madonnas or miraculous roods 
 might make his mouth open not his pur.se." 
 
 " Neither of you fellows really understands the 
 rustic character," remarked Higgins. u I can give 
 an instance to prove what it really is. A year or two 
 ago I was stopping in a village not many miles from 
 here. The first day a Church Association lecturer 
 visited us and harangued at great length on the 
 wickedness of the vicar who had just introduced 
 some soul-destroying coloured stoles. In spite of 
 flaming placards, and almost house-to-house canvass- 
 ing, only seven people attended the Iqcture. 
 
 " Next day a van painted a flaming red colour 
 bivouacked on the village green, and a Radical 
 agitator tried his utmost to induce the labourers to 
 form a local branch of his organisation. He told 
 them that by voting for his candidate for Parliament 
 they could secure healthier homes, double wages, 
 unlimited allotments, and various other panaceas. 
 The yokels listened and grinned. Nothing more. 
 The prospect was too distant. 
 
 " Next Saturday a smartly dressed, loud-voiced 
 bagman drove into the village in a stylish brougham. 
 He had a medicine which would cure every possible 
 ailment. If you drank it, measles, ague, small-pox, 
 
 8
 
 114 NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 rickets, jaundice, consumption, or heart disease 
 instantly fled from the neighbourhood ; used as an 
 ointment, chilblains, bunions, corns, or rheumatics 
 would trouble you no more ; and it was also an 
 infallible hair restorer, egg producer, and rat poison. 
 There were several other miscellaneous virtues, one 
 being that it would take the black marks off postage 
 stamps so that they could be used again. That man 
 disposed of every bottle in our one little village. 
 
 " The common or garden clodhopper," continued 
 Higgins, "is a mixture of extreme meanness and 
 crass stupidity. Only induce him to believe that 
 there is any immediate gain to be got by it and he 
 will swallow the most childish fraud. But if your 
 image did not promise him profits cash down by 
 return of post it might wag its head and goggle its 
 eyes till the strings burst for all he would care." 
 
 " I can assure you," I replied, " that the monks 
 never promised any benefits of this kind. Religious 
 frauds there have been, perhaps, but not at Boxley. 
 On the contrary, the Abbot was reproved by Arch- 
 bishop Wareham for the poverty of his Abbey, he 
 having let the estates at so low a rent that the income 
 was insufficient for the maintenance of himself and 
 nine monks. 
 
 " Fuller makes merry on another statue t Boxley 
 a kind of supplementary legend. This represented 
 the ' mythical infant Rombauld. and although only 
 eighteen inches high, and easily lifted by a child, 
 became suddenly heavy enough to resist the efforts
 
 THE HOLY ROOD OF I5OXLEV. I I 5 
 
 of the strongest man if he \vas not in a state of grace. 
 This, Fuller tells us, was accomplished by turning a 
 peg, which fastened it to the floor." 
 
 " But how about the hole where the peg entered 
 the statue ? " interrupted the Boy. 
 
 Gentle youth, many a simple question like yours 
 would dispose of fables much more subtly conceived 
 than those at Boxley !
 
 CIIAPTKR XIII. 
 
 DIGRESSIONS. ON ORDNANCE MAI'S AND OTHER 
 THINGS. 
 
 AT Debtling, " a barren place of chalky, stony soil," 1 
 Higgins led the expedition several miles out of the 
 way in quest of the mansion of a friend of his. He 
 assured us that we were certain of an invitation ,to 
 dinner. We reached the house only to discover that 
 the proprietor had given orders, if any pilgrims called, 
 to say that he had gone away for several weeks. 
 
 I remonstrated with Higgin.s, not merely for 
 wasting our time on specious objects, but for giving 
 rein to his appetite at this early stage. It seemed 
 ridiculous to me that we should talk about dining 
 when we had only yet accomplished about four miles 
 towards the day's quota. I reminded him that we 
 were due at Wye that evening, and that dinner 
 ought not to be even thought of till we reached 
 Lenham. 
 
 Higgins said it was absurd to say that we had only 
 
 1 Although unfertile in soil, an ancient chronicle asserts that 
 Debtling is prolific in twins.
 
 ON ORDNANCE MAI'S AND OTIIKR TIIINCS. 117 
 
 done four miles. He appealed to the Ordnance map. 
 By its measurements the distance completed appeared 
 to be less than three and a half miles. Then he 
 remembered his vow of the previous night, and, 
 striking a match, he ignited the remains of the fatal 
 chart and twisted it into pipe-lights. 
 
 Higgins' condemnation of the Ordnance map arose 
 from his taking an unnecessarily extreme view of the 
 situation. I once thought myself that these produc- 
 tions were intended as a guide to tourists, and to be 
 regarded as accurate surveys of the country, and to 
 settle disputes as to boundaries, and so on. Now I 
 know that this is a delusion. I never met anybody 
 who ever found his way to anywhere with the 
 assistance of an Ordnance map. The task would be 
 quite impossible even to one initiated into the caba- 
 listic signs and figures which adorn it. You can 
 easily prove this by examining the section supposed 
 to represent a district with which you are perfectly 
 acquainted. Try and find out some favourite route ; 
 you will soon be utterly bewildered as to whether 
 some particular line is a footpath which you take for 
 a short cut, or whether it is the high road, or merely 
 a hedge or ditch, or the line of some extinct under- 
 ground passage. It is all a riddle with no solution 
 attached. No sanely constituted court of justice 
 would accept such evidence. 
 
 Hut before your mind becomes unhinged and you 
 resort to extreme measures, after the example of 
 Higgins, I will explain to you the laudable principle
 
 llS NEW WHEELS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 which governs the action of the Ordnance depart- 
 ment. It is a great and glorious device of our 
 military authorities, worthy of being classed with the 
 grand military stratagems of Caesar, Scipio, or King 
 Alfred. Our War Office have an infallible provision 
 secured against the time when a hostile army lands 
 on the coast of Kent and commences the march upon 
 London. They u<ill never gel there, because their 
 route will be dictated by the Ordnance map. Lost 
 in inextricable mazes, they will wander aimlessly 
 hither and thither, their artillery sunk into some 
 unmarked swamp, their men disorganised and half- 
 starved in the search after inns which are not where 
 they seem to be, the leaders demoralised and bewil- 
 dered by the surprising alterations in the aspect of 
 the country. Eventually they are sure to fall into 
 ambush and be ignominiously captured or cut to 
 pieces. No true Englishman ought to disparage or 
 abuse the Ordnance map. Rather let him subscribe 
 a fund for the distribution of specially bound and 
 beautifully printed copies among all the nations of 
 the world. The Ordnance map is a splendid institu- 
 tion but not to guide your footsteps when engaged 
 on a walking tour. 
 
 Higgins was in no way comforted by my explana- 
 tions, and fell back on the plea that he was hungry. 
 I might have ignored his proposal, but alas ! he had 
 appealed to the lower passions of the Photographer 
 and the Boy, and I was outvoted. All I could do 
 was protest against the encouragement of gourmand-
 
 ON ORDNANCE MAI'S AND OTIIKK THINGS. 1 
 
 ising, especially on walking tours. Light refresh- 
 ment is sufficient during the walking hours of the 
 day, with a good square meal at the last stopping 
 place before the journey is over. But Higgins 
 thought differently. Then I resorted to stratagem, 
 and with apparent reluctance moved a resolution that 
 we should dine at the next inn. This was carried 
 with acclamation, my opponents falling readily into 
 
 the trap. We ordered dinner at the next inn ; to the 
 horror of Higgins bread and cheese were the only 
 eatables obtainable ! I had stooped to conquer. An 
 enormous cheese was placed before us, a very diminu- 
 tive one left the table ; Higgins consoling himself in 
 quantity for what the repast lacked in quality. A 
 new beer cask was also needed before we departed, in 
 spite of my admonitions in praise of moderation. 
 Later on we discovered the reason why Higgins
 
 I2O NK\Y \VHKKLS IN OLD RUTS. 
 
 desired so frequent stoppages at every inn, and every 
 possible excuse for a meal. We had long noticed 
 that his slender frame was filling out perceptibly. 
 This regularly increasing tendency was at first 
 ascribed to a chest expanding under the influence of 
 the pure breezes of the Kentish hills, and perhaps an 
 accumulation of flesh from partaking so freely of good 
 
 country fare. But when symptoms of lassitude were 
 superadded, closer observation revealed the true 
 cause. Higgins was a confirmed relic-hunter ! So 
 insidiously had his operations been conducted that 
 for a long time he excited no suspicions. Subse- 
 quently we required him to display his treasures for 
 our admiration. Among the contents of various 
 pockets were the following :
 
 ON ORDNANCE MAI'S AND OTIIKR THIXCS. 121 
 
 1. A ginger-beer bottle containing water from St. 
 Thomas' Well. 
 
 2. A bone turned up by the plough, supposed to 
 have formerly belonged to cither (<?) an ancient 
 British warrior, (/>) 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.
 
 A 
 SELECTED LIST 
 
 OF 
 
 Mr. T. Fisher Un win's 
 
 publications. 
 
 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 
 England. With 12 photogravure plates and 
 over 250 illustrations in the text. 410, 6 6s. 
 net. 
 
 This elaborate and exhaustive work has been some 
 years in preparation under the editorship of Mr. William 
 P. P. Longfellow, whose name is a guarantee both of 
 scrupulous accuracy and of literary excellence. Xo 
 pains have been spared on the part of either publisher or 
 editor to obtain the most exact and most recently deter- 
 mined data concerning the many hundreds of architec- 
 tural monuments described, and the book is unique both 
 in its scope and execution. The wealth of illustration 
 not only illuminates the descriptive text, but decorates it 
 so effectively as to produce a superb and sumptuous 
 volume, as well as a useful and instructive dictionary of 
 the subject. The form and presentation of the work are 
 in keeping with its unusual and ornate character, and 
 constitute a fitting dress for a book that has a distinctly 
 aesthetic as well as a purely scholarly side and purpose. 
 
 MADAGASCAR AND THE MALA- 
 GASY. By JAMES SIISKEE. Illustrated. 
 With Map. Demy 8vo, cloth, 2 is. 
 
 The Volume consists of the following Chapters . i. 
 From Coast to Capital : Notes of a Journey from 
 Mahanoro to Antananarivo ii. Imerina, the Central 
 Province : Its Physical Features and Village Life iii. 
 Antananarivo, the Capital : Its Public Buildings,
 
 MR. T. FISHER UNWINDS 
 
 Memorial and other Churches, and Religious and 
 Charitable Institutions iv. The Changing Year in 
 Central Madagascar : Notes on the Climate, Agriculture, 
 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 
 Actions and Conundrums xi. Malagasy Songs, Poetry, 
 Children's Games, and Mythical Creatures xii. Mala- 
 gasy Folk-Tales and Fables xiii. Divination among 
 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 
 JOSEPH PENNELL, H. G. WILLINK, A. D. 
 McCoRMICK, etc., and Large New Map of 
 the Southern Alps. Cloth, size 9^ by 6J, 
 price 2 is. net. 
 
 Also an Edition on Japan paper, bound by 
 Zaehnsdorf, $ 55. net. 
 
 ARCHITECTURE IN ITALY. From 
 the Sixth to the Eleventh Century. His- 
 torical and Critical Researches by RAFFAELE
 
 SELECTED LIST. 3 
 
 CATTANEO. Translated by the Contessa 
 ISABEL CURTIS-CHOI. MELEY in Bermani. 
 With Photogravure Frontispiece, and over 
 100 Illustrations. Crown 410, parchment, 
 2 is. net. 
 
 No writer has as yet made this period the special 
 object of his studies ; the few who have written about 
 it have done so superficially and imperfectly, so that 
 CatUneo had the difficult work of retracing Art-history 
 for nearly six centuries. That this work is recognised 
 as a standard volume is proved by there already being 
 French, German, and Italian editions of it. The 
 English edition is a translation from the Italian, and 
 contains all the illustrations of the original printed in 
 Venice by the famous house of Ongania. 
 
 CLIMBING REMINISCENCES OF 
 THE DOLOMITES. By LEONE SINI- 
 GAGLIA. Translated by MARY ALICE 
 VlALI.S. With an Introduction by EDMUND 
 J. GARYVOOD, A.C., Member of the Italian 
 Alpine Club. Profusely Illustrated. With 
 Map. 9^ by 6. Cloth, 2 is. net. Also an 
 Edition on Japan paper bound by Zaehns- 
 dorf, -, 55. net. 
 
 This work of the well-known Italian climber is pub- 
 lished in the hope that it may be of use to the increasing 
 number of English mountaineers who devote themselves 
 to rock-climbing. In the absence of such an English 
 guide to the Dolomite region, it is thought that this book, 
 describing, as it does, the mountain routes followed with 
 great accuracy and detail, may supply a want that has 
 long been felt. It may likewise serve to make better 
 known a most picturesque and interesting district to 
 English travellers, and to familiarize them with the 
 beautiful scenery of the Dolomites.
 
 4 MR. T. FISHER UNWIN'S 
 
 A LIFE SPENT FOR IRELAND. 
 
 Leaves from the Diary of W. J. O'NEILL 
 DAUNT. With an Introductory Letter by 
 W. E. LECKY, and Portrait. Demy 8vo, 
 cloth, 2 is. 
 
 HERE AND THERE MEMORIES. 
 
 By H. R. N. Demy 8vo, cloth, i6s. 
 
 TWELVE BAD WOMEN. A Com- 
 panion Volume to " Twelve Bad Men." 
 Demy 8vo, cloth, i6s. 
 
 The Volume is made up as follows : (i) Alice 
 Perrers, Mistress of Etlwaiil III. (criminally avaricious;. 
 (2) Mary Frik (" Moll Cutpurse "). (3) Frances, Lady 
 Essex, Murderer of Sir Thomas Overbury. (4) Mary 
 Carleton, Imposter. (5) Barbara Villiers. (6) Sarah 
 Pi idden, Criminal. (7) Elizabeth Chudleigh, Bigamist. 
 (8) Jenny Diver, Thief. (9) Mary Ann Clark (bribery 
 and corruption). (10) Mrs. Brownrigg (exemplifying 
 cruelty), and two others. 
 
 IN THE KINGDOM OF THE SHAH. 
 
 Being the Journey of a Medical man through 
 Persia. By E. TREACHER COLLINS, 
 F.R.C.S. Demy 8vo. About 264 pp. 37 
 Illustrations. I2s. 
 
 The author, who went to Persia as oculist to the 
 Prince Zille Sultan, the eldest son of the Shah, and 
 Governor of Isfahan, describes his journey with his wife 
 across the great tableland of Iran, from the Persian 
 Gulf to the Caspian Sea, by caravan, by carriage, and 
 by chappar horses. The book is full of local colour, 
 nd depicts the customs, arts, superstitions, myths, and 
 eligious beliefs of the Persians. It further touches on 
 uch burning questions as the railway to India, the con- 
 tion of the Armenians, and the effects of Christian 
 lissions in Mahommedan countries.
 
 SELECTED LIST. 
 
 THE COURTSHIPS OF QUEEN 
 ELIZABETH. By MARTIN A. S. 
 lli'MK, F.R.H.S., Editor of the "Calendar 
 of Spanish State Papers of Elizabeth " 
 (Public Record Office). Demy 8vo, cloth, 
 with Portraits, price I2s. 
 
 The author, who is perhaps the highest authority on 
 Elixabethan foreign policy, has utilised his knowledge of 
 the State papers to construct a connected account of the 
 extraordinary series of negotiations for her marriage, 
 which the Queen during a great part of her life used as an 
 important factor of her national pol.cy. The diplomacy 
 of Elizabeth was so unscrupulous, so complicated, and 
 so tortuous, that ordinary historical text books hardly 
 attempt to explain it. The plan of the present work is 
 to follow closely through all its turns and twists one clue 
 of the labyrinth, and thus to give a clearer idea than has 
 hitherto been presented of tlie methods by which the 
 foundation of England's greatness was laid. The fact 
 that the book is bright and interesting does not detract 
 from its real historical value. 
 
 THE NEAR EAST. Ready October, 
 1896. By HENRY XOKMAN, Author cf 
 " Peoples and Politics of the Far East." 
 Illustrated. Large crown 8vo, cloth, ios. 6d. 
 
 Among ethers tic Work infliides tin' .Mlcneinx, 
 
 Chapters: "From Moslar to Montenegro. I'he 
 
 Capital of Montenegro." " Piinee and Politics in 
 
 Montenegro: An Interview with Nicholas 1. I'he 
 
 Last Days of Sultan Abdul Hamid II." 
 
 THE LONDON BURIAL GROUNDS. 
 
 Notes on their History from the Earliest 
 Times to the Present Day. With numerous 
 Illustrations. By Mrs. BASH. Hoi.MKS. 
 Fully Illustrated. Foolscap 410, cloth, 
 ios. 6d. net. 
 
 This volume will supply a chapter hitherto missing in 
 all histories of London. Mrs. Holmes has interested 
 herself in the Metropolitan Burial Grounds for many
 
 MR. T. FISHER UNWINDS 
 
 years, and not only gives antiquarian details about those 
 that still exist, anil tells much about those whose sites 
 have altogether d sappeared, but also supplies valuable 
 information ab^ut their treatment in the past, the legal 
 action that has been taken in connection with them, 
 their present condition and their probable future fate. 
 The book is written in a chatty style, and the informa- 
 tion is we 1 up to date. 
 
 MODERN SCIENTIFIC WHIST. By 
 
 C. D. P. HAMILTON, i Vol. Large crown 
 8vo. 600 pages; over 5,000 Pip Illustra- 
 tions ; 268 Diagrams ; and 2O Tables. 
 Beautifully printed in red and black, on 
 paper specially manufactured for this book. 
 Bound in cloth gilt, 8s. 6d. net. 
 
 A digest, by a practical whist-player, that will be 
 appreciated by the beginner for its simplicity and clear- 
 ness, and by the expert for its comprehensiveness. The 
 most exhaustive treatise ever written on the subject of 
 Whist. 
 
 THE LIFE AND TIMES OF GIRO- 
 LAMO SAVONAROLA. By Professor 
 PASOUALE VILLA RI. Translated by LINDA 
 VlLLARI. New and cheaper edition in I 
 volume. Fully Illustrated. Cloth, large 
 crown, 73. 6d. 
 
 " Professor Yillari has brought to bear on his labours 
 rare scholarship, great catholicity of mind, and a fine 
 s^nse of historical perspective. Pall Mall Gazette. 
 
 " In style it has the grace and freedom of the original." 
 Daily 'News. 
 
 ENGLAND'S WEALTH IRELAND'S 
 POVERTY. By THOMAS LOUGH, M.P. 
 With Diagrams. Demy 8vo, cloth, 7s. 6d. 
 
 This book is an enquiry into the economic aspect of 
 the Irish Question. It does not touch directly upon the 
 question of " Home Rule," but is confined to an investi- 
 gation of the causes which have led to the present Irish
 
 SELECTED LIST. 
 
 depression in trade and agriculture anil the decrease of 
 population. Mr. Lough has devoted prolonged con- 
 sideration to this part of the Irish problem, and he was 
 one of the witnesses examined before the Royal Com- 
 mission on the Financial Relations between Great 
 Britain and Ireland. The book will contain numerous 
 diagrams and tables illustrating the economic conditions 
 of the country. 
 
 ROME AND POMPEII. By GASTON 
 BOISSIER. Translated by D. HAVELOCK 
 FISHER. (Sole Authorised English Trans- 
 lation.) Maps and Plans. ' Large crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 7s. 6d. 
 This is companion volume to " The Riviera," and will 
 
 prove of the utmost value to literary travellers in these 
 
 districts as well as those interested in the archaeology of 
 
 Rome and Pompeii. 
 
 /// preparation (uniform in style and price with above). 
 
 THE COUNTRY OF HORACE AND 
 VIRGIL. By GASTON BOISSIER. Trans- 
 lated by D. HAVELOCK FISHER. 
 
 In this volume M. Boissier continues the work so 
 happily begun in his "Rome and Pompeii," a work 
 which has passeil into three editions in the French. 
 Here we are among the Etruscan tombs of the Horace 
 and Virgil country, and we are inducted into the legends 
 of that interesting neighbourhood. The volume is, in 
 fact, a charming commentary on the .3neid, as well as a 
 guide to the district. 
 
 PARIS DAYS AND EVENINGS. By 
 STUART HENRY. Fully illustrated by L. 
 S. BRUMIDI. Crown 8vo, cloth, 73. 6d. 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PHASKS OF LIFE. Household Gods of Victor Hugo 
 My Abbe A Great Fashion House A Breakfast Col- 
 loquyAt the Jardin des Plantes The Decline of the 
 Boulevard des Italiens Paris Days at Dieppe -Parisian 
 Family Life by Contrast Mourning for President Carnot. 
 
 LETTERS AND COLOURS. The Academy Renan 
 Literary Lectures The Paris Dailies Random Pen- 
 ciliings in the Salons Apropos of a Sargent Portrait 
 Sunlight in Modern French Paintings.
 
 MR. T. FISHER UNWINDS 
 
 OPKRA AND THKATRK.- Little Souvenirs of Bizet - 
 Music Mademoiselle Mars Phedre Rachel and Rern- 
 hardt Mademoiselle Ludwig Among Famous Ballet 
 People. 
 
 THK LATIN QUARTKR.- -The Quarter by Day The 
 Quarter l>y Night The Romance of a Student's Menace 
 
 MALOMBRA : A Novel. By ANTONIO 
 FOGAZZARO, Author of " Daniele Coriis," 
 " II Mistero d'un Poeta," &c. Translated 
 from the Italian by F. THOROLD DlCKSON. 
 Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. [Ready March 1st. 
 
 The scene of this powerful story is laid in a hiunted 
 castle in one of the wilder mountain districts of Lorn- 
 hardy. Here dwells the beautiful heroine, Marina, 
 Marchesina di Malombra, \v th her old uncle, a grand 
 si'igat'ur of the finest type of Italian noblemen. A 
 family vendetta warps the character, and darkens the life 
 of Marina, and its sinister effect influences the course of 
 her attachment to the young author. Corrado Silla. A 
 nobler and a purer nature, Edith, also loves him ; and 
 the story may be briefly summarised as the unconscious 
 struggle of two antagonistic influences on a man's life. 
 If there is much that is sad and tragic in the tale, it has 
 also its brighter side. Many vivacious and amusing 
 figures cross the scene, there are lively sketches of life 
 below stairs, and, outside the castle walls, the super- 
 stitious peasant, the parish priest, the bourgeois official, 
 the country doctor, are painted with great skill, and not 
 a little humour. 
 
 THE AFRICANDER: A Plain Tale of 
 Colonial Life. By E. CLAIRMONTE. Illus- 
 trated. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 The value of this tale of actual experiences in South 
 Africa is greatly enhanced by recent events. Chapters 
 in it deal with Roer characteristics, the salient features 
 of his life that go to m;tke him what he is, a strange 
 survival of patriarchal times (with not a little of 
 patriarchal morality), the Boer War, and methods of 
 attacking him. Details concerning sport, adventure, gold 
 and diamond digging, and Kaffir Wars, complete this 
 entertaining volume.
 
 SELECTED LIST. 
 
 " It will eertainly s 
 lining contemporary st 
 
 Sf*5bUUn0 "Hovels. 
 
 Uniform in style with S. R. Crockett's Works. Large- 
 crown 8vo, cloth, g It top, 6s. each. 
 
 AN OUTCAST OF THE ISLANDS. 
 
 By JOSEPH CONRAD, Author of " Almajer's 
 
 Folly." 
 
 The Press on the Novelist's First Work. 
 
 " We shall await with interest Mr. Conrad's next 
 appearance." Athcnceum. 
 
 " If Mr. Conrad can (five us another story as striking 
 and lifelike as this, his place in our literature ought to be 
 ' Sfcakcr. 
 
 .ejuie Mr. Conrad a high place 
 ory-tellers." -Saturday Review. 
 
 ALMAYER'S FOLLY. By JOSEPH CON- 
 KAD. A Second Edition is in preparation. 
 
 CLARA HOPGOOD. By MARK RUTHER- 
 FORD. Edited by his friend REUBEN SHAP- 
 COTT. Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s. 
 
 A leader remarks of this novel that " it is a beautiful 
 work, a most spiritual work every line tells ; and we 
 have no doubt whatever the book will have a permanent, 
 if secluded, place among English classics." 
 
 THE EBBING OF THE TIDE: South 
 Sea Stories. By Louis BECKE, Author of 
 "By Reef and Palm." 
 " In Mr. Louis Becke, Mr. Fisher Unwin has secured 
 
 a writer whose career has probably surpassed in romantic 
 
 interest that of any of his contemporaries." Morning. 
 
 Leader. 
 
 EFFIE HETHERINGTON: A Novel 
 By ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 
 A FIRST FLEET FAMILY. By Louis 
 BECKE, Author of " By Reef and Palm," 
 and WALTER JEFFREY. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 6s. 
 
 14
 
 MR. T. FISHER UNWIN'S 
 
 PADDY'S WOMAN, and other Stories. 
 By HUMPHREY JAMES. Crown 8vo, cloth, 
 6s. 
 
 This b;>ok contains not one but several stories. The 
 title conies from a prominent one amongst them. And 
 yet, though they are many, they are not wholly distinct 
 a'icl disconnected. On the contrary, there is not only a 
 certain homogeneity running through, but the stories 
 even lead to one another, the principal characters recur, 
 anil are developed, and the final tale serves as a licnvii- 
 incnt to the whole. The d'sjointedness, consequently, is 
 perhaps not greater than between ihe chapters of an 
 ordinary novel. Besides, the aim of the book seems 
 better served in this manner. The Author wishes to 
 jjive to use his own phraseology something Irish, 
 likely-looking, and not wholly unreadable. For this 
 purpose he lakes a number of characters from the sphere 
 of life, and from the professions and occupations that 
 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<l, he says, becomes a single person, as it were, and 
 is capable of perpetrating atroeities which each of its 
 individual members would shrink from. The impuls? 
 seems to spring from one dominating mind, and to be 
 communicated by an unspoken suggestion to all the 
 others, so that they act with the utmost unity and a 
 consentaneous purpose. It is a form of collective 
 insanity, and while it lasts those who are carried away 
 by it appear to be incapable of thinking rationally, or 
 of being amenable to any kind of self-control. Hence 
 the crimes of the Reign of Terror, and massacres like 
 those which have just occurred in Armenia. 
 
 The JOURNAL of JOACHIM HANE: 
 
 Containing his Escapes and Sufferings 
 during his Employment by Oliver Crom- 
 well, in France, from November, 1653, to 
 February, 1654. Edited from the Manu- 
 script in the Library of Worcester College, 
 Oxford, by C. H. FIRTH, M.A. Small 
 crown 8vo, cloth, 35. 6d. net. 
 
 This is an account of the adventures of a Cromwell inn 
 officer employed by the Protector as a secret agent in 
 France. It is printed from a contemporary manuscript 
 in the Library of Worcester College, Oxford. Hane 
 was arrested, threatened with torture, and escaped by a 
 miracle, and went through as many hairbreadth adven- 
 tures and hardships as one of Mr. Stanley Weyman's 
 heroes. The editor's preface explains the nature of 
 Hane's secret mission, and gives an account of his life. 
 
 Extract from The Times, January nth, 1895: "In 
 this 'Journal of Joachim Hane,' Mr. C. H. Firth, the 
 learned editor of the Clarke Papers, edits a minor Crom- 
 wellian document from a manuscript in the Library of 
 Worcester College, Oxford. . . . ' It is probable that 
 Hane's mission was more military than political, and 
 that he was rather a spy than a political intriguer.' 
 However this may be, few readers will hesitate to agree 
 with Mr. Firth that ' the story of his escapes and wan- 
 derings is so vivid and picturesque that it seeme;l wor.h 
 rescuing from entire oblivion, even though it throws little 
 light on the dark places of Cromwell's foreign policy.' "
 
 SELECTED LIST. 19 
 
 IN THIS OUR WORLD. Poems and 
 Sonnets by CHAKI.OTTE P. STETSON. Crown 
 8vo. cloth, gilt top, on hand-made piper, 
 with photogravure Portrait, price 35. fid. 
 
 THREE GREAT AFRICAN CHIEFS: 
 Khama, Sehele, and Buthrcn. By E. l.I.OVD. 
 With four Portraits. Second Edition. Crown 
 8vo, cloth, ?s. fid. 
 
 PUBLIC SPEAKING and DEBATE: 
 
 A Manual for Advocates and Agitators. By 
 GEORGE JACOH HOI.YOAKE, Author of 
 " Sixty Years of an Agitator's Life," &c. 
 Second and Revised Edition. Crown 8vo, 
 cloth, 35. 6d. 
 
 RANDOM ROAMING, and other 
 Papers. By Rev. CANON JESSOPP, D.D. 
 
 Second and Cheaper Edition. Crown Svo, 
 3s. 6d. 
 
 I'nifonn with " Arcady," "Coming of the Friars," 
 ' Studies by a Recluse," and "Trials of a Country Parson." 
 
 THE ILLUSTRATION OF BOOKS: 
 
 A Manual for the Use of Students. By 
 JOSEPH PEN NELL, Lecturer on Illustration 
 at the Slade School, University College ; 
 Author of "Pen-Drawing,"' "Modern Illus- 
 trators," &c. Crown Svo, cloth, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Mr. Joseph Pennell, the author of "Pen Drawing and 
 Pen Draughtsmen," "Modern Illustration," &c., lecturer 
 on illustration in the Slade School, has prepared for 
 publication the course of lectures he delivered at Univer 
 sity College in the winter of 1894-95. These cover the 
 entire field of illustration, the methods of work in all 
 mediums, the training of an illustrator, printing in 
 books, magazines, and newspaper. It is the first time that 
 this most important form of Art has been treated, in all its 
 phases, by a practitioner. The book is mainly intended 
 as a text-book for the use of art students and art schools.
 
 20 MA'. T. FISHER UNWINDS 
 
 THE CHILDREN'S STUDY. Long 
 8vo, cloth, gilt top, with photogravure 
 frontispiece, price 2s. 6d. each. 
 
 A CHILD'S HISTORY OF SCOTLAND. 
 
 By Mrs. OUPHANT. 
 
 (2) A CHILD'S HISTORY OF GERMANY. 
 
 By KATK FREILIGRATH KROKKKR, Author of " Fairy 
 Titles from Brentano," &c. [J/<iv. 
 
 7.V PREPARATION. 
 
 (3) A Child's History of Ireland. Edited by 
 BARRY O'BRIEN. (4) A Child's History of 
 England. By FRANCES COOK. (5) A Child's 
 History of the United States. By OKR-I-RCDE 
 SMITH. 
 
 THE HONOUR OF THE FLAG. BY 
 CLARK RUSSELL. Half -Crown Series. 
 Vol. 6. 
 
 COSMOPOLIS. An International Monthly 
 Tri-lingual Review, gi by 6^ in. About 
 300 pages, 2s. 6d. Annual Subscription, 
 335., post free. 
 
 SOME PRESS NOTICES. 
 
 " Cosmopolis certainly begins well. . . . So interesting 
 and promising an experiment. . . . \Ve offer it a cordial 
 welcome." Times, "Containing, as it does, valuable 
 contributions in three languages, Cosmopolis should 
 certainly be attractive to readers in many countries." 
 Morning Post. " We have in this one number the main 
 current of European ideas ; and, sustained at such a level 
 of excellence in three languages, Cosmopolis ought to 
 make a wide appeal." Illustrated London AVrw. 
 " Cosmopolis makes an excellent start. . . . The venture 
 is spirited : and if it is maintained at the level of its first 
 number it ought to succeed." St. James's Gtizi'ttc, 
 "Whether for information or for culture the new maga- 
 zine bids fair to become a regularly 'functioning' organ 
 of ideas, both here and on the Continent." Scotsman, 
 " Cosmo/soli's promises to be a potent representative, in 
 periodical literature, of English, French, and German 
 culture." Sfcakfi: " Cosmopolis is sure to leap into 
 popularity." National Ohssn'fr. " Cosmopolis begins
 
 SELECTED LIST. 21 
 
 what promises to be a trilliant career. . . . How it can 
 be produced for lialf-a-crown must remain a mystery." 
 Manchester Guardian. " Cosmopolis is a most unique 
 and daring venture, and if the splendid promise of its 
 first issue be fulfilled we can prophesy for it a brilliant 
 career. ' Sheffield Independent, : ' Cosmo folis fully 
 justifies anticipations as both a solid and brilliant acqui- 
 sition to the periodical literature of Europe." Liverpool 
 Daily Vest. 
 
 PREPARING FOR IMMEDIATE PUBLICATION. 
 
 A FINAL EDITION OF YOUNG 
 IRELAND. A Fragment of Irish 
 History, 1842-1846. Illustrated with Por- 
 traits, Autographs, Facsimiles and Historical 
 Scene,s by Sir C. GAVAN DUFFY, K.C.M.G. 
 To be published in two parts, extensively 
 illustrated, paper, price 2s. each, and in one 
 volume, handsomely bound, cloth, price 5s. 
 
 OPINIONS OK THE CRITICAL PRESS. 
 From The Saturday Review: "The party which 
 Davis created, ami of which Duffy took tile leadership 
 from his hand, had many engaging characteristics, and 
 these characteristics had never been so effectively set out 
 before. The author abstained to a great extent from 
 that curse of Irish controversy indiscriminate and 
 personal abuse of those who differed with him. The 
 reception of 'Young Ireland ' was thus favourable even 
 with those who could least admit its author's political 
 postulates. ... A valuable contribution to history." 
 
 ZTbe Century 
 IRew 
 
 Illustrated. Paper, is. 6d. : cloth, 2s. 
 
 MOFF. By JOHN TWEEDDALE. 
 
 THE DOUCE FAMILY. By EDITH 
 JOHNSTONE, Author of "A Sunless Heart."
 
 22 MR. T. FISHER UNWINDS 
 
 ft be Hutongm Xlbrarp. 
 
 (Unform in style and price with the "Pseudonym 
 
 Library.".) Paper, is. 6d. each ; cloth 2s. each. 
 
 In France: paper, I f. Hoc. ; cloth, 2!'. 500. 
 
 THE RED STAR. By L. McMANUs. 
 
 Tills is the story of a girl's adventures as a soldier in 
 the French campaign in Russian Poland in 1806-7. The 
 scenes centre round two principal figures, that of the 
 h.-roinc who serves in the French Army, and that of a 
 Russian officer. By following the profession of arms, 
 the former is placed in some singular positions which in 
 the end force her to confess her sex. Mural and his 
 stall' are among the cliaracters that appear in the story. 
 
 A MARRIAGE BY CAPTURE. Hy 
 ROBERT BUCHANAN. 
 
 LEAVES FROM THE LIFE OF AN 
 EMINENT FOSSIL. By DUTTON 
 
 Bt'RKARl). 
 
 A CASTAWAY OF THE BARRIER. 
 
 By DAVID G. FALK. Paprr, is. 6d. 
 
 Stirring and picturesque is this story of a convict who 
 is nobly sheltered on a lonely part of the West coast of 
 Australia by a settler's daughter. Mr. Falk has not 
 failed to accept the romantic suggestions offered by such 
 a theme. 
 
 A MODERN PROMETHEUS. A Ro- 
 mance. By E. PHILLIPS OPPENHEIM. 
 Long 8vo, paper covers, is. 6d. 
 
 WILMOT'S CHILD. A Dramatic Inci- 
 dent. By the Rev. JOSEPH PARKER, D.D. 
 A new Edition. Demy I2mo, paper covers, 
 is. 6d. 
 
 " It is bright, witty, and interesting." Daily Chronicle. 
 " Has given us the unique joy of a new style of 
 fictional narrative." -Sh-cflicld Telegraph.
 
 SELECTED LIST. 23 
 
 IRew 3risb 
 
 Hew IDolumes. 
 
 Small crown 8vc>, 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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