struggle, but it would be hard work and constant anxiety. I might just manage to live, perhaps, but I could put nothing by for old age. It's the big manufacturing towns that makes the laws now, and they care nought for agricultural interests-leastways, that's my opinion. But if all our best country folk have to leave, where will England be, I wonder?' And we wondered too. Aylsham possesses a very fine old church-an art education in itself. John of Gaunt is reputed to have been the builder of it, and his arms are sculptured on the beautiful old font, so that there may be something in the tradition. Wandering around the old churchyard, groping amongst the ancient, mossencrusted, lichen-stained, and almost undecipherable tombstones in quest of quaint inscription or curious epitaph, we came upon a piece of ground by the side of the chancel railed off and laid out as a garden, with beds of blooming and sweet-smelling roses bounded by boxwood borders and tiny gravel paths. The little garden was well cared for. On the wall above it was the following inscription, which we copied : IN THIS GARDEN IS BURIED THE BODY OF HUMPHRY REPTON, ESQRE. Not like Egyptian Tyrants consecrate, We were unsuccessful in our search for epitaphs, but we came upon several tombstones raised to the memory of devoted wives and husbands, with spaces left for the surviving husband's or wife's name to be added when they died in due course; but in several cases no further addition has been made to the inscriptions. We presume, therefore, that in these cases both the surviving husbands and wives had consoled themselves with other partners, and rest elsewhere. The porch of the church is very fine, and is decorated with flint and stone panelling-so effective and frequent in Norfolk. It possesses an elaborately carved niche, from which the figure has been removed, probably at the Reformation; doubtless this contained an image of the Virgin Mary and Child. The ancient royal arms are also carved upon the porch. The tower of the church is fine, and shows markings plainly proving that the roof of the structure was formerly of a much higher pitch. This tower is protected by a lightning conductor. Nothing special about that, or worthy of mention,' you will probably exclaim, kind reader; but, as a matter of fact, there are, as far as our experience goes, exceedingly few church towers protected from lightning; the so-called conductors that most have attached to them are simply no protection whatever. In the first place, these are frequently of iron, worn and rusted away, sometimes of copper rope so thin as to be useless, and not unfrequently carefully disconnected from the building by glass or porcelain holders, so that if the lightning were to strike any other part of the structure the holders would effectually prevent the electric fluid from being led harmlessly to earth. I make bold to say that nine out of every ten conductors fixed to buildings in England are worse than useless-even dangerous. Therefore, from our experience in such matters, we were surprised for once, in a remote Norfolk town, to find the church fitted with a real conductor, that would conduct, and properly attached; this one is a continuous copper band, of sufficient width, and nailed to the tower, and really protects it. It is astonishing how much ignorance there is upon this matter of lightning conductors. CHAPTER XIII. A Wooded Country--A Gipsy Encampment-Cawston Church-A Grand Carved Roof-The Plough-light' Gallery- A Fine Rood Screen-The Saint who cured the Gout-An Interesting FrescoA Curiosity-Sall Church-Hard Times-The Cottager's WantAncient Brasses-Birds in Church-Reepham-Names not always pronounced as spelt-Two Churches in one Churchyard—A Quaint Tomb to a Crusader. WE had another fine morning on which to continue our pleasant pilgrimage; the clouds that had gathered threateningly around overnight had dispersed, the sun was shining softly down, and a balmy summer breeze was blowing. What better could the most fastidious wayfarer desire? Our aneroid (which useful instrument we always carry with us when driving across country, for hotel barometers are not always in working order or to be relied upon, and some hotels have none), our aneroid then we found had risen considerably since the previous evening. We felt therefore that we had nothing to fear from the weather, so we started away in the best of spirits, full of pleasant anticipations as to what the day would bring forth. All before us was fresh, unknown; we had not even given a thought as to where we should spend the night, so unfettered and delightfully uncertain of our movements were we. Such freedom is of the essence of a driving tour; to be, or feel, in any way bound would be to rob it of its chief advantage. We passed at first through a level stretch of agricultural country, the scenery of which, though agreeable, it must be confessed was a trifle monotonous, reminding us of Dr. Johnson's famous saying, that the country is only a collection of green fields,' for the landscape was without any character. However, after a time our road gradually plucked up spirit and became even hilly. As the soil grew sandy and poorer, so the scenery improved, woods took the place of ploughed fields, and very beautiful woods they were. The clumps of Scotch firs that were mingled with other trees came as a pleasant change from the familiar elms, their dark green foliage and rich red trunks formed a striking contrast with the fresh greens of the woods around. A very picturesque tree is the Scotch fir; it has a sturdy individuality all its own, its branches grow in a wayward fashion, as though they could never quite make up their mind which direction they would finally take. I think that the Scotch fir has more character than any other tree, not excepting the oak. Land is of little value here, so there were waste stretches left unenclosed by the wayside, covered with green waving bracken and yellow with broom, and from the hidden thickets of these rabbits were continually darting across our path. By-and-by we came to a gipsys' encampment, and quite a picture it was, with its film of blue smoke ascending from a wood fire till it lost itself in the bluer sky. The |