SEPTEMBER 351 



pervious to damp, which, unless they are cemented on the outside, 

 will work through walls of it eighteen inches or more in thickness. 

 In the cultivated lands I came across a new peat drain. These 

 drains are cut several feet deep, and about a foot from the bottom 

 upon either side of them a ledge is left in the turf. On this ledge, 

 which supports them, are laid other turves, and thus a square 

 channel is formed beneath, down which the water percolates. If 

 made properly these drains will last for many years. 



To-day was extraordinarily wet and windy, but in the afternoon 

 it held up, and wc managed to escape for a walk with our guns, 

 but succeeded only in shooting a curlew and a rock-pigeon or two, 

 which fell into crevices full of rushing yeasty water where we could 

 not even look for them. To-day, also, I received a telegram an- 

 nouncing that we had taken a good many prizes, seven or eight in 

 all, at the Mutford and Lothingland District Agricultural Show, 

 which this year is being held at Bungay. First and second for cows, 

 first for fat beasts, a first and a highly commended for butter, and 

 so forth. It is very satisfactory, and I wired back to congratulate 

 Hood. Here the telegraph, or rather the telephone, runs straight 

 into the dining-room of the Castle. Nothing ever brought the mar- 

 vellous nature of this invention more home to me than the despatch 

 ing of a message to Ditchingham, five hundred miles away, and an 

 hour or so later to be startled by a ting, ting on the bell and rise to 

 listen to the answer. I think that the telephone, there by the lonely 

 waters of Breachacha Bay, would have amazed Dr. Johnson even 

 more than the 'sleeper.' How interesting it would be if by any 

 miracle we could hear his reflections on the subject. 



September 25, Sunday. — We have been shooting every day 

 this week since the 20th. On Wednesday the 21st we killed about 

 ten brace of partridges on the bents, lunching near to the farm- 

 house at Crossapol. Quite close by this house is a graveyard, 

 which, after the curious fashion of Scotch burial-places, runs down 

 to the rocks upon the sea-border. About this cemetery my host 

 had a tale to tell, which will be interesting to the lover of collie 



