A JOURNAL KEPT IN THE COUNTRY. 245 



old race ; that vast hypocrisy which proposes to 

 Conserve. 



An idle afternoon in most perfect weather ; the air 

 no mere average gaseous compound, but vivifying 

 element, rich and keen, a delight to breathe and move 

 in. I read ; made a progress round the farm, noting 

 once'more the immense deep-set humour of pig-nature, 

 the wise conservatism of the cows that follow their 

 wonted path round to the yard gate, never cutting 

 off the corner, for serene reasons of their own. To- 

 wards evening a great web of pale golden cirrus cloud 

 drew slowly over the western sky, and about sundown 

 the bells began to ring again to Church. Leaving 

 Lucy to promenade in the garden with Bish and his 

 wife, who had walked across from Dogkennel, I set 

 off to the village for evening service. The bells were 

 being failed as I reached the churchyard gate ; and 

 before I was settled in my accustomed place by the 

 middle pillar, the organ began, drowning the faint 

 clink of the ting-tang. Mrs. Lydia always plays for 

 some little time before the service, music which 

 seems to tune all the air to the coming solemnity. 

 Now we are all in, four hundred or so of familiar 

 faces, mostly of the street dwellers, the tradespeople, 

 the shop-boys, the nursemaids and " generals ;" there 



