CHAP. x. BEGINS AGAIN. 183 



by his wife and bairns. Home had already begun 

 to look more homely. There was a fire to sit down 

 beside, and a family circle to converse with. Care, 

 despondency, and despair, tad already to a certain 

 extent been cast aside. There would yet be peace 

 and plenty about the fireside. Edward threw off 

 the showman's garb, and donned that of the hard-, 

 working sutor.* Next morning he was busy at his 

 trade, sewing, hammering, and " skelping away at the 

 leather." 



During the ensuing autumn and winter, he passed 

 , his time at his ordinary daily work. He refrained 

 from going out at night. He had parted with all his 

 objects in Natural History, and he did nothing as 

 yet to replace them. But his mind had been at 

 work all the while. As spring advanced, he found 

 it impossible to check his ruling passion. His day's 

 work done, he again started with his gun on his 

 shoulder, his insect boxes and appendages slung 

 round his back, his plant case by his side, and a host 

 of pill boxes, small bottles, and such like, packed 

 in his pockets. Away he went, with heart as light 

 as a feather, to search, as long as light remained, for 

 tenants of the woods, the fields, and the sea-shore. 



When daylight faded into darkness, he would 

 sit down as usual for a nap it did not matter where, 

 by the side of a rock, on a sand-bank, in a hole in 

 the ground, in a dry ditch, under the cover of a bush, 





Sutor Shoemaker. 



