VILLAGE ALE-HOUSE. 71 



English horses real big, shaggy-hoofed, sleek, heavy English 

 cart-horses; and a carter a real apple-faced, smock-frocked, 

 red-headed, wool-hatted carter breeches, stockings, hob-nailed 

 shoes, and "Gee-up Dobbin" English carter. 



Little birds hop along in the road before us, and we guess at 

 their names, first of all electing one to be Robin-Redbreast. We 

 study the flowers under the hedge, and determine them nothing 

 else than primroses and buttercups. Through the gates we ad- 

 mire the great, fat, clean-licked, contented-faced cows, and large, 

 white, long-wooled sheep. 



What else was there ? I cannot remember ; but there was 

 that altogether that made us forget our fatigue, disregard the rain, 

 thoughtless of the way we were going serious, happy, and 

 grateful. And this excitement continued for many days. 



At length, as it becomes drenching again, we approach a stone 

 spire. A stone house interrupts our view in front ; the road 

 winds round it, between it and another ; turns again, and there 

 on our left is the church the old ivy-covered, brown stone vil- 

 lage church, with the yew-tree we knew it at once, and the 

 heaped-up, green, old English churchyard. We turn to the 

 right ; there is the old ale-house, long, low, thatched-roofed. We 

 run in at the open door ; there he sits, the bluff and hearty old 

 fellow, with the long-stemmed pipe and the foaming pewter mug 

 on the little table before him. At the same moment with us 

 comes in another man. He drops in a seat raps with his whip. 

 Enter a young woman, neat and trim, with exactly the white cap, 

 smooth hair, shiny face, bright eyes and red cheeks we are look- 

 ing for. 



" Muggoyail, lass ! " 



Mug of ale ay, that's it ! Mug of ale ! Fill up ! fill up ! 

 and the toast shall be " MERRIE ENGLAND ! HURRAH ! " 



We sit with them for some time, and between puffs of smoke, 



