THE COUNTRY-SIDE: SUSSEX, 85 



( irc for that there Brown chap, he bean't no good ; 

 zo I jest put a cross agen he, and voted for Stiggins.' 

 The dream of life was accomplished, the labourer had 

 a vote, and — irony — he voted exactly opposite to his 

 intent. 



Too-whoo ! 000 ! — the sound of a horn, — the hunt 

 ^vas up ; but this was not the hunting season. Looking 

 out of the kiln door I saw a boy running at full speed 

 clown the lane with a small drain-pipe tucked under his 

 arm. He stopped, put the pipe to his mouth, and blew 

 ■A blast on this ' dread horn,' then jumped through a gap 

 in the hedge and disappeared. They were pla}^ing fox 

 and hounds ; who but a boy would have thought of 

 using a drain-pipe for a horn ? It gave a good note, 

 too. In and about the kiln I learned that if you smash 

 a frog with a stone, no matter how hard you hit him, he 

 cannot die till sunset. You must be careful not to put 

 on any new article of clothing for the first time on a 

 Saturday, or some severe punishment will ensue. One 

 person put on his new boots on a Saturday, and on 

 Monday broke his arm. Some still believe in herbs, 

 and gather wood-betony for herb tea, or eat dandelion 

 leaves between slices of dry toast. There is an old 

 man living in one of the villages who has reached the 

 age of a hundred and sixty years, and still goes hop- 

 picking. Ever so many people had seen him, and knew 

 all about him ; an undoubted fact, a public fact ; but I 

 could not trace him to his lair. His exact whereabouts 

 could not be fixed. I live in hopes of finding him in 

 some obscure ' Hole ' yet (many little hamlets are 

 ' Holes,' as Froghole, Foxhole). What an exhibit for 

 London ! Did he realise his own value, he would soon 

 come forth. I joke, but the existence of this antique 

 person js firrnly believed in, Sparrows are called 



