CHAPTER X.

Wet Weather-Inn full-Beccles-A Fortunate Town-The Waveney Valley Thatched Churches Haddiscoe --A Dutchlike Landscape St. Olave's A Riverside Hotel Painters and Scenery Fritton Church and Broad-A Quiet Spot-Belated— Old Yarmouth Houses and Rows-A Good-natured Landlord'Holy Stones.'

It was raining hard as we drove into Beccles, but in spite of the downpour the streets were crowded, for it was market-day. We made the best of our way to the King's Head, the old coaching hostelry, and arriving there it was that we had our first and only disagreeable experience of the journey. The inn chanced to be crowded with farmers, a market dinner was on, but unfortunately, not only the inn but the stables likewise were filled to their utmost capacity, and somewhat more, horses being packed together like sardines in a box. Both entrances to the courtyard were blocked up entirely with a curious collection of conveyances, so that it was impossible for us to drive in, and even had we been able to do this, there was positively no place for our tired horses. Here was a pretty state of affairs, neither accommodation for man nor beast! There was absolutely nothing for it but to wait about. in the rain till there should be room for us, and when that would be how could we tell? for doubtless

many of the farmers themselves were wisely waiting in comfortable shelter, in the hope that the weather might improve. Wet, tired, and hungry as we were, anxious above all to rest our hard-worked horses, could anything be more provoking or temper-trying than this depressing and wholly unforeseen contretemps? I am proud to say that we kept our tempers; there was no good losing them. The unfortunate combination of circumstances was nobody's fault. The landlord could not help his inn being full, nor was he answerable for the rain. But we made a note that it was not advisable to arrive at a strange town (without previously securing accommodation) upon a market-day; even in fine weather the inns are always crowded at such times, and the streets likewise often blocked with cattle. We made diligent inquiry afterwards as to the market-days of the towns we visited, so that when it was a marketday we took the precaution of arriving late, when the majority of the farmers had left for their homes.

I must confess that as we drove slowly up and down the crowded main street of the town, wearily waiting in the wet till we could be taken in, we voted driving tours a failure; but once comfortably housed in the evening over our pipe and glass of 'toddy' we readily withdrew our vote of censure and thought no more of our temporary discomfort.

At last we managed to drive the phaeton under the shelter of the archway of the King's Head, and here we had to unharness the horses without the ostler's help, and stable our cattle as best we could for the time, the mud-stained phaeton being left

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standing in the roadway till the number of conveyances in the courtyard thinned. I must say that the good-natured landlord did all he could for us, and he was so manifestly chagrined at our troubles that we actually felt more sorry for him than for ourselves.

The courtyard of the King's Head at Beccles is roofed over with glass, making it into a comfortable lounge; a pleasant fashion that prevails in the hostelries of Suffolk. This enclosed space was musical with the songs of caged birds, green with growing plants, and gay with flowers with flowers; 'mine host' evidently had a soul for beauty as well as a talent for hotel-keeping. As a rule, nowadays the one idea of a business man is to make money quickly, unmindful of his commonplace commercial surroundings. What a much pleasanter spot the world would be to live in were men only a little less eager to become rich, if they would put some enjoyment into the present instead of trusting to a far future that may never come! Fancy a lawyer's office artistic, a baker's shop delightful to look upon, or a stately factory! Yet such things might be, and life would be all the better and brighter if the might be' could be practically realised. And if, even in the making of the land beautiful, money became more dispersed among the many, would the world be any the worse if big fortunes were fewer and workhouses less well filled? Truly the wealthy man can escape from much of the ugliness of our crowded cities, he can retire to his own home surrounded by pictures and all that is beautiful and pleasant to look upon; but the rich are so few and the poor so many.

The inhabitants of Beccles are singularly fortunate in one respect, for the town possesses extensive estates which preclude the necessity for borough rates, as the costs of paving, highways, sewerage, police, and lighting are paid from funds arising from this source. The estate in question consists of nearly a thousand acres of rich marshland pasturage. Fancy living in a town without rates! I would the town I lived in were rateless!

Beccles, like Bungay, is a pleasantly situated and picturesque place. It has too a certain indescribable look of prosperity; not the prosperity that breaks out in stucco shops and plate glass, that asserts itself in cheap and flimsy villas, or desirable mansions badly built, all show and sham, but a quiet sufficient prosperity that is suggestive of contented abiding and well-being.

Beccles truly does not possess a castle set on a height like Bungay, but it boasts of a grand old church that stands on a commanding eminence, from which there is, as our American cousins would express it, a superb prospect' over the vast low-lying valley of the Waveney; the eye can trace from thence the far winding course of the little river glistening for miles in the green level marshes. The fine tower of this church stands detached at some distance from the main building; it is a splendid specimen of masonry. Unfortunately, it was not quite finished by the ancient builders, and it has remained unfinished, as they left it in the sixteenth century, to this day. Perhaps, however, after all there is not so much to grieve about in its being un

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completed, for if it is not so grand as it would have been in its perfect state, it is undoubtedly more picturesque.

Of the past history of Beccles I must confess total ignorance. We were content to take the place as we found it, nor have I since troubled to look its past record up in books, but from the many names of streets ending in 'gate' we presumed that it must once have been a fortified and walled town. There is Ballygate Street, Blyburgate Street, Ingate Street, Northgate Street, Smallgate Street, and possibly others that we failed to note.

The market-place at Beccles is quite foreignlooking; indeed, to use an Irish expression, I think that I may say it is more so than many continental ones. The wide irregular market square, with its surroundings of high-gabled and irregular-roofed houses, having the ancient church and great grey tower for a background, forms a charming picture. Prout would have gloried in sketching it. Were it not for the names on the shops around, and for the people, who are too pronouncedly English and wanting in picturesqueness, Beccles as viewed thus might be a town in Normandy.

But there is another even more effective peep of the place. As seen from the riverside below, from near to the first bridge that crosses the Waveney, on the road to Yarmouth, the town of Beccles makes a most romantic picture, well composed and rich in colour. I wonder whether any artist has ever yet come and painted this. Over all stands the grey church tower, dominating the whole town, the very