124 AN AMERICAN FARMER IN ENGLAND. 



We went into a stylish inn to get some refreshment, and while 

 waiting for it, watched some little girls playing in the street 

 They stood, four holding hands, dancing and singing round one 

 (" Dobbin") lying on the ground : 



Old Dobbin is dead, 



Ay, ay; 

 Dobbin is dead, 

 He's laid in his bed, 



Ay, ay. 



There let him lie, 



Ay, ay; 



Keep watch for his eye. 

 For if he gets up 

 Hell eat us all UP 



and away they scampered and Dobbin after them. The one he 

 first catches lays down again for " Dobbin," when it is repeated. 



The church was a little one side of the village on an elevation, 

 and so hidden by trees that we only saw a square tower and vane. 

 Near it a neat stone building, I thought likely to be the parsonage, 

 and pointing towards it soon after, asked a man who lived in it? 

 His reply was, " Why, there's none but poor peoples' houses 

 there, sir ! " The vicarage he showed us in another direction 

 a fine house in spacious -grounds. 



From Eccleston we had a delightful walk in the evening to 

 Chester. There is a good foot-path for miles along the river 

 bank, with gates or stiles at all the fences that run down to it, 

 and we met great numbers of persons, who generally seemed 

 walking for pleasure. There were pleasure boats, too, with par- 

 ties of ladies under awnings, rowing up and down the river, 

 sometimes with music. 



We were stopped by some laboring people going home, who 

 asked us to look after a poor woman we should see sitting by the 



