and did nothing to injure or annoy his neighbour. The doings of the Salvation Army, under the protection of the police and to the delight of the rabble, have effectually removed this wrong impression. A German band playing lustily out of tune, or even an organ-grinder, is disturbing enough performing opposite your house; but these you have the right to order away. The detachments of the Salvation Army are infinitely more distracting; but under the cloak of religion the law allows them to do as they will-and the sooner the law is altered in the interests of peaceful citizens who pay heavy rates and taxes for small return, the better. What sort of a religion can that be that annoys others? If people cannot be good without bands, banners, and shouting, their goodness is little worth.

We could not stand the Salvation Army; the groups that gather around its local captains have not even the merit of being picturesque; we acknowledged ourselves conquered, and beat a hasty retreat. We wended our way to the church, for we had yet some two hours of daylight left, and there we felt sure of being in peace. Some people have expressed themselves perplexed at the popularity of the Salvation Army amongst a certain class; to me there is nothing perplexing about the matter. The poorer inhabitants of our country towns lead very uninteresting, uneventful lives; their homes are not attractive; they find the streets in fine weather more agreeable than their uncomfortable, overcrowded homes and little wonder. Well, these people like to be amused, and a little mild excitement comes as

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a pleasant break in their monotonous existence. The Salvation Army supplies this excitement free of cost, and there is the secret of the whole matter. Such, at least, is our opinion, given for what it may be worth, but arrived at after a careful study of the matter.

It was a relief to escape from this latest religious (?) craze and get inside the hallowed walls of the venerable church; the solemn silence they enclosed filled us with a soothing sense of peace. In this ancient church we came upon some very interesting but much-defaced monuments. One was of a knight with crossed legs, showing (according to the generally accepted opinion of antiquaries) that the gallant warrior had been to the Holy Land with the Crusaders, though a learned minority deny that this crossing of legs in effigies has anything to do with the expedition. I am inclined to the former opinion, but rather possibly from prejudice of early belief in the tradition than anything else. I have heard hard-headed antiquaries argue about this matter, but without result further than a loss of temper-certainly without convincing me one way or the other.

Another fine altar-tomb had upon it two recumbent figures, representing a man in full armour with his wife by his side. Though much defaced and without any inscription now, as far as we could discover, this dilapidated tomb interested us exceedingly, for in the recess above it hung the very shield of the worthy warrior, dented and showing the bruises of war, but still bearing faded traces of the original colours and gilding of his coat of arms. When they have not been stolen (or removed, if that is a

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pleasanter term), the portions of armour, helmets, breast-plates, swords, shields, and spurs of the brave knights of old, that erst were frequently placed over their tombs, are of the greatest interest and add vastly to the picturesque and romantic effect of such monuments. Unfortunately, such comparatively portable articles, when they escaped the Puritan despoiler, which, to be just, they mostly did, being neither crosses nor yet superstitious images, but too often became the prey of sacrilegious thieves, who, even to this day to my certain knowledge, have entered country churches and removed from them their ancient brasses, all for the paltry gain they may obtain from collectors; and I even think that collectors who purchase such things are equally guilty with the thieves. Not long ago I was offered, in a certain curiosity shop, a beautifully engraved mediæval brass, the inscription being carefully removed all but the date.

Glancing back as we left the sacred fane, we beheld a picture that will long be remembered by us. The low evening sunlight, streaming in through the stained windows, touched with a mosaic of many hues the ancient tombs, glorifying their solemn gloom by transferring to them the chequered tints of the 'twilight saints and dim emblazonings' from the mellow-tinted glass.

The churchyard here has long been disused for burials, Halstead having years ago wisely provided itself with a cemetery outside the town. Instead, therefore, of the usual sad colony of decaying and neglected tombstones and grass-grown mounds, we

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found the God's acre laid out and planted as a garden. The effect was pleasing, though there is no need for allowing the hallowed soil to be converted into a pleasure-ground for local gossips, still less into a noisy playground for children. We noticed here, instead of the usual mournful and depressing yew whose roots' wrap about the bones' and whose 'fibres net the dreamless head,' that a variety of trees had been planted; amongst others we observed the copper beech, the holly, the hawthorn, the ash, and sundry kinds of evergreens. This providing of cemeteries, and making pleasant to look upon the usually dismal and dreary churchyards, is greatly to be commended; the only danger is, as I have said, lest the church gardens should become the rendezvous for village gossips, or a ready playground for children.

Upon leaving our inn next morning the landlord's little daughter presented me with a beautiful rose that she said she had just gathered out of her very own garden; though rather large for the purpose, I at once gallantly placed it in the button-hole of my Such kindly meant attentions to strangersof which during our journey we received many-are very pleasing, even though coming from a child. Greatly did I prize that rose, though, I regret to say, somehow I lost it on the way.

coat.

Our road was hilly at the start; from the top of the first rise we had a very pretty view, looking back, of Halstead, with the green valley in which it lies, brightened by the winding silvery Colne; the pleasantly wooded country beyond forming a charming

setting to the scene. Near to the spot where we pulled up to admire the view, we noticed an old oak tree, old but not particularly fine; this was carefully bound round with iron to preserve it. Whether the tree had any history I cannot say, for at the time there was nobody in sight of whom to make inquiry.

Our road now led us through shady woods, and for a space the hedges on either side of us were of yellow broom, the glowing colour of which made our way quite cheerful, telling as it did brightly against the green foliage of the trees. Then the woods gave place to a more open country of pastures and tilled fields, and, descending a hill, we crossed a stream by a picturesque wooden bridge. Shortly after crossing this we came to High Garret-so, at least, we gathered from our map. The reading of the name of a place correctly on maps, as at present printed, is not such a simple matter as it should be. The names of towns and villages (especially if they be long) occupy considerable space, and it is by no means always easy to know whether the place is intended to be shown at the end or the beginning of the word. Map makers engrave the titles where most convenient, so as to avoid confusion and overcrowding of their maps in certain spots; this avoiding of confusion in one point, however, begets considerable uncertainty in another, for a name on a map often occupies three miles or more; and where there are many villages shown on it at about that distance from one another, it wants some care to avoid a mistake.

High Garret, as I have said, in spite of its un