ALMSHOUSES. 133 



dog, yelping sharply as he reached the road ; the truants re 

 turned, and the whole flock broke at once into a hard run, 

 dog dashing first one side, then the other closing them rap 

 idly up, and keeping them in a dense mass, until, at another 

 shout from the shepherd, who had not risen, all at once halted, 

 and, turning heads out, went to feeding, soon closing around 

 the dog, leaving only a space of a few feet vacant about him. 

 The dogs used by most of the shepherds seem to be mongrels, 

 generally low in the legs, with great heads, short necks, and 

 rather shaggy. One that was said to be very sagacious and 

 well-trained, and for which I was asked thirty dollars, ap 

 peared as if a cross of a spaniel with a terrier. Generally, the 

 dogs were valued at only from two to five dollars. 



It cleared about noon, and after the rain ceased the air 

 was calm, hot, and steamy. I recollect but one village, two 

 rows of ugly, glaring, red brick houses, relieved by a church 

 rectory and two other buildings, cool and pleasing, under 

 shade of ivy ; and a large, old establishment, with cupola and 

 clock, and a square, green, shady court in front of it devoted, 

 as appeared by an inscription on its front, by somebody s 

 bequest, two hundred years ago, to the maintenance, in com 

 fort, of a certain number of aged widowers and bachelors of 

 the parish. Such retreats for various denominations of the 

 poor and unfortunate, called almshouses and hospitals, (vul 

 garly, &quot; spittals,&quot;) are to be seen in almost every town in 

 England. They are of all degrees of comfort some stately 

 and luxurious others, and these quite common, mere cot 

 tages hovels sometimes, generally very old, and nearly 

 always of ancient foundation. With more or less ostentation, 

 the name of the founder is displayed on the front, sometimes 

 with his bust, statue, arms, or a ridiculous allegorical sculp 

 ture. This plan for sending a dying sinner s name down to 

 future generations, with the grateful embalmment of charity, 



