A Farmer’s Life 
left waiting for him to come back, while he was 
in faét making his way to the “ Tumbledown 
Dick.” 
Eventually from the “ Tumbledown Dick” 
too he was hunted out; slipping away, getting 
the start, and presently reaching Bridger’s again. 
But not now to be disturbed. Once there for 
the second time he was secure for the remainder 
of the evening, the wife not caring to begin the 
hunt all over again. 
It may very well be that this was not quite the 
sort of story that was found so effective for cheer- 
ing up a despondent curate. Mr. Smith had a 
great fund of anecdotes, and would have been 
unlikely to offend sensitive ears by telling any- 
thing liable to distress them. On the other hand, 
one never knew beforehand—himself as little 
as anybody—what he was going to recall next. 
Well-told anecdotes were, in fact, not the staple 
of his talk. ‘They came from him, and in abund- 
ance—often with a little bursting laugh—as the 
seasoning to something else; but the true quality 
was something quite different—something better 
worth remembering, if only memory could recover 
it at all: an easy-going conversation; a very 
sane and tranquil comment on current events. 
It was always good-tempered. A touch of 
Hampshire diale&t flavoured it; through and 
through it seemed expressive of a mellow country 
126 
