A "MATUTINAL HOUR." 167 



killing the faint hope that clings to "twelve o'clock" 

 as an alternative. 



Now for my promised trespasser among the 

 Swedes! No need for man-traps to-day in that 

 quarter, thought I, preparing to meet the foe, with a 

 pair of gaiters that seemed made for the Slough of 

 Despond. The turf-ground weezed and yielded 

 under every footstep, plainly dating back the rain to 

 an early hour of the night, as I made my way to 

 the field ; and as my eye scanned its whole space 

 over, the victory of the " early bird " seemed as- 

 sured when suddenly close to me, from the other 

 side of the hedge, just where the master-drain 

 opened out, came a ringing " Good morning, Sir," 

 into my very ear, and Mr. Greening, rising from the 

 bent posture in which he had been scrutinizing the 

 Drain, looked with mischievous unconcernment the 

 victory he had promised, and accomplished. 



"Not deep enough ! " quoth he ; laconically. 



" Which?" 



" Oh T the Drain not you ; and as for me, I 

 was deep enough ! You thought the drop o' rain 

 had stopped me : no, no ! I like a rainy day, to see 

 this sort o' land. These are laid at three foot ! 

 Four's better! 



"You really think so?" 



