232 MEMOIR OF 



cross-roads, which, as they were all strange to 

 me, perplexed and jaded me far more than 

 even the length of the ride, when at nightfall I 

 reached the modest lodgings taken for me in 

 the village at Swymbridge. My landlady, Mrs. 

 Burgess, a most respectable woman, besides 

 two sets of apartments let to myself and 

 another gentleman, dear old Walter Radcliffe, 

 kept also in the same house a general shop, 

 where any article of food, from a double 

 Glo'ster to a flitch of bacon, or a penny loaf 

 to a packet of tea, might be had at a moment's 

 notice ; so that for the cravings of nature the 

 wherewithal was at hand to satisfy my utmost 

 wants. I had just quitted a happy home, 

 broken up by my family migrating to Dresden 

 for education ; consequently, notwithstanding the 

 kindly manner of my hostess, and her anxiety 

 to make me comfortable, a sense of loneliness 

 crept over me such as I had not felt for many 

 a year, and I turned away from the savoury 

 broiled rasher set before me as if I had been 

 a Hebrew of the Hebrews, and hated the 

 sight of the unhallowed food. At that moment 

 a man's voice at the door aroused my attention 

 — he was inquiring for me — and before I could 

 rise from my seat Russell stalked in, grasped 

 my hand without ceremony, and bid me wel- 

 come to his parish in so cheery a tone that 

 in an instant my depressed spirits, rising like 



