ON SURREY HILLS. 



livered into their charge, as submissive as a rebuked 

 child, to be locked up by the good old lady in a beer- 

 cellar. When he was let out, a little more sober than 

 he went in, he said, " Missus, I b'leeves you've saved 

 my life ; that 'ere genelman vvud 'a bin the death o' me. 

 You'll never hear me mek a row in your house, nor 

 give ye trubble no more. Them ere hands o'-his wus 

 like lumps o' iron hittin' ye. I be took in, an' no mis- 

 take." He kept his word, and was quiet enough in 

 her house after that. 



His companions had not become involved with 

 him, for when they saw their mighty man of valour 

 go down, they had all suddenly recollected that they 

 had business of importance to attend to at home. 



Yes, I find a few old friends still about the place, 

 who laugh heartily with me as they recall this and 

 other scenes during the course of our work at the old 

 church; and we agree that things are now much 

 altered here for the better, in every way. 



It is day again. Our three days' tramp is nearly 

 over, a few more miles will bring us home. As we 

 reach the hills once more, we take a bypath and follow 

 the crests as far as we are able, except where notice- 

 boards warn us that we are on private property. We 



