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

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picturesque name, is a most charming village, with thatched cottages that are so delightful in pictures and reality. One of these cottage homes had its lowly walls completely covered with a combination of roses, honeysuckle, vines, and ivy. Here also we observed a very picturesque modern residence, built in the good old-fashioned, half-timbered style that suits so well the homelike English landscape. A convenient and a comfortable style this for the country, as well as a picturesque one; the projecting upper stories (that so especially belong to it) are not merely quaint and ornamental features, but serve a very practical purpose-the throwing forward of the first floor over the lower one, affording more space for bed-chambers, which in small houses of the straight wall type are generally in short supply in proportion to the sitting-rooms, unless, indeed, the building be carried up another story, entailing the perpetual mounting of extra stairs and loss of external proportion in the house.

I am the lucky possessor of a charming little cottage in this pleasant style, and, owing to the projecting story on either side, two additional cosy bedrooms are secured, and plenty of cupboard space besides; thus convenience and picturesqueness are most happily combined. Those who have seen over this little homelike cottage, with its high-pitched gables, large stacks of chimneys, and mullioned small-paned windows, are always much surprised at the amount of accommodation in the upper part of it.

It is a pity that this thoroughly English and

comfortable style of architecture is not more adopted in the country dwellings of to-day; and it may be combined, if wished, with the old-fashioned weather tiling, which has the advantage of keeping the walls of a house dry even in the wettest climate, besides securing cool rooms in summer and warm ones in winter.

CHAPTER XIX.

Rural Inns-A Clever Conceit in Words-An Old Water-mill-A Picture though a Photograph—Braintree—A Homelike LandThe Pleasures of the Road-A Day's Drive across CountryGreat and Little Leigh-A Village Store'-A Unique Wooden Effigy-An Old Tudor Gateway-Old Mansions and Modern Farmsteads.

SHORTLY after leaving High Garret we came upon a picturesque public by the wayside, ycleped 'Ye Hare and Hounds,' possibly of more importance in the old coaching days than now. The little hostel looked very neat and clean, though how it obtained sufficient custom to exist, much less prosper, was a puzzle to us. Sometimes, however, the tenants of these rural inns combine a little farming with their other business, and so manage to prosper in a quiet

way.

I have from time to time, as we journeyed along, remarked upon any peculiar names, curious inn signs, or quaint epitaphs that struck us. I have, however, forgotten to make mention of an inn sign, which from its clever double meaning I think worth a place here. There is a certain wayside hostelry, or rather perhaps I should say a cross between a hostelry and a public, that bears the title of the 'Dewdrop Inn.' We did not at first perceive the play upon words, till it was explained to us: Dew

drop Inn-Do drop in: not a bad conceit for a house of entertainment that lives by its patrons dropping in!

On now we drove through a green stretch of restful country, with nothing on the way to arrest our particular attention till we arrived at the bottom of a long descent, where we pulled up by the side of an old water-mill. The ancient mill, added to and altered from time to time, with all its picturesque irregularity; the green weedy stream, with the bridge across it the clear pool below the mill, that doubled the building in its stilly water, together with the trees around, made a charming picture--so charming as to induce us to unpack the camera and take it. The picture was an instantaneous one, and, after exposing a plate, we duly returned it to our changing-box. Upon developing this plate some weeks afterwards at home, we made the unexpected discovery that we had included in our picture more than we were aware of at the time; some ducks were on the water, having just been chased off the land by a dog; but also, what both pleased and surprised us much more, we had secured a carrier's cart coming along, and an anxious mother just in the very act of snatching up her little one, who had evidently been playing on the road, out of harm's way. Such natural incidents, that now and then (though I must confess by very rare happy chance) reward the photographer, convert a mere mechanical photograph into a real picture.

Arriving at Braintree (a rambling country town, with irregular winding streets that boast of some interesting old houses) we drove up to the White