the animal looked uncommonly like a hare, and that we had never heard of a 'wat' before. 'Well now, to think of that!' responded the farmer, with a look of pity at our ignorance. We calls hares wats in these parts.'

Wandering about the town, we felt that there was a want, but what it was we could not make out for some time. Then suddenly it dawned upon us that we had walked over the whole place and had seen no church. Being usually such a conspicuous feature in England, especially in Norfolk towns and villages, its absence was noticeable. We looked all about for a church, but could see no sign of one. The spreading collection of houses around seemed strangely incomplete without this familiar object to preside over the buildings like a protecting mother caring for the living and watching over the dead. These ancient fanes are the outward expression of the age of faith. Within their hallowed walls how many generations have listened to the oft-repeated ritual, have sorrowed and rejoiced! The names that may be traced on the ancient tombstones are frequently the same names as are to be read upon the shops around.

Not being able to discover a church anywhere, we asked a boy if there were one, and where it might be. He pointed out to us the way to it across some fields, for strangely enough the church here is situated at some distance from the town. We found it to be of the usual Norfolk type, with a round tower, and apparently restored. We did not see the interior, for we were in no humour for clerk-hunting. Here

is a problem. You arrive at a strange town, you wish to see the church; how is it that there is always such a difficulty in discovering the clerk?

It was now past two o'clock, and as we had still some dozen miles or more to do, we thought it time to get back to our inn and proceed with our journey. But as we walked along we noticed that the clouds were gathering darkly in the direction of our stage ; a spot or two of rain fell as though to remind us that the weather was by no means settled. On arriving at our inn we felt undecided as to what would be best to do. We were in very comfortable quarters truly, but then on the other hand we had seen all that Watton had to show, and, to be honest, beyond horses there was not much of interest in the place. We took a glance at the barometer, but that useful instrument did not afford us much comfort. It stood at Rain,' and fell from that low estate towards 'Much Rain' when we tapped it. Then we asked advice of the ostler. He had no uncertainty at all about the matter. 'You'll have a wet drive if you starts,' said he, and it's a wild bit of country; twelve miles and never a public house; a hard country I calls it.' Just then, however, a gleam of sunshine showed itself. We cared not for ostler's prophecy nor falling barometer; we would start at once. That gleam did it, and, as it turned out, had much to answer for.

'If you wish for peace, prepare for war.' We wished for fine weather and so prepared for wet. Our mackintoshes were put on, our waterproof aprons were wrapped around us, and all made 'taut.' If the rain came it could not hurt us much, and after all, a day

such as this, when the clouds are bulging with rain, wind-driven and wind-woven into a mystery of forms, letting down now and again from a break above a transient gleam of light on the wet glistening leaves and roadway, is not a day to be despised, and comes even as a relief after the glare of the summer sun.

Wet weather has its rewards; then it is that the colours of the landscape are brought out in a wonderful manner; the leaves and grasses, laden with moisture, reflect the gold of the sun's rays when they come; the distance then is delightfully distinct and colourful; the air too has a freshness, a clearness, that contrasts refreshingly with the heat and haze of a sultry summer day. And after rain, when the sun does shine, what a brightness and sparkle there is all over the landscape; how clear and sweet is the air, washed from all impurities! There is really only one kind of bad weather, in my opinion: that is when the sky is of a uniformly leaden hue, from which the rain pours down in a ceaseless wearying monotony, with no break in the mass of dun-coloured vapour overhead, nor any reasonable prospect of one.

T

CHAPTER XV.

Stormy Weather and Stony Roads-Over Croxton Heath-The Making of a Highwayman-Thetford-An Old-time HostelAncient Earthworks-On the Wrong Road-The Charms of the Unknown-A Relic of the Coaching Age-A Gipsie's Encampment-An extraordinary Photographic Result-Ingham-'Trespassers will be Persecuted'!—The Pleasures of Photography.

THE little town of Watton left behind, we soon entered upon a wild wooded country, a country where the signs of human habitations were few and far between. Trees bounded our roadway on either side, the wind stirred and rustled their branches and leaves with a continual sur, sur, sur.' A wild warm wind it was, blowing in fitful gusts, now just bending the tops of the trees, now roaring and whistling through the stems, now falling almost altogether away. The dark, drifting, lowering clouds foreboded rain; all Nature seemed in a state of unrest. There was a kind of mild excitement in driving on such a day through a strange country; the air was so invigorating, the effects of light and shade over the landscape were so peculiar and powerful. Away in front of us the horizon was of the darkest indigo, just above it the sky was of a wan yellow, and towards us great grey clouds drooping with aqueous vapour travelled apace. Now and again slanting lines of rain revealed where a storm was sweeping along,

CAUGHT IN A STORM.

275

and now and again the distance would be sponged out by a passing shower. Rain storms (to parody the poet laureate) to the right of us, rain storms to the left of us, rain storms in front of us, but so far, by curious good fortune, we had escaped without a single drop, and as we drove along we watched with unabated interest the ever changing cloud forms, great banks of cumulus, gathering fold upon fold in ominous grandeur, their forms and outlines ever changing; anon a momentary gleam of sunlight would gild their wreathing crests, then all would be grey and gloom again, and a dreariness would be cast over the landscape. As the wind freshened an extra gust would ever and again drive a fir cone or a portion of a branch right into the phaeton. One great piece of dead wood crashed down on to the road just after we had passed; had we been a few seconds earlier, it might have brought our journey to an unpleasant ending; and we were not sorry in time to get away from the trees into a more open heath land, though the further we progressed the rougher became our way. The surface of the road was of soft sand, making travelling heavy, and there was a plentiful supply of stones about, of all sizes and shapes, from that of a miniature boulder to a moderate-sized flint. But though the road was bad -wretchedly bad, to use no worse an adjective-we felt that we could hardly complain, as it was really the only bit of bad road we had experienced since we left home, and what better had we a right to expect over a bleak untravelled moorland ?

We had escaped the wandering storms so far in