NO MAN'S LAND. 201 



like some of the other buildings. The son of my 

 former host has it now. He has a respect for old 

 times, and the business of the day being over and the 

 house closed, one or two old chums remain behind to 

 talk over modern improvements. One and all harp 

 on the same string, the old lord's time that rare 

 old time, to which distance adds a still greater charm. 

 After a good night's rest and a substantial break- 

 fast, the landlord produces his modest bill, remarking, 

 in answer to our comment of satisfaction at its small- 

 ness, that he does not believe in "swallering folks 

 alive when they stop at his place, for he likes to 

 sarve his customers same as he'd wish to be sarved 

 if he was a-travellin'." This genial host receives a 

 hearty shake of the hand, and we make again for the 

 wild uplands. The valley we have rested in is only 

 what one might call a drain from the higher portions 

 of the land. A great quantity of water lies all round, 

 for the hills are full of it. Directly we clear the 

 hamlet we are once more in No Man's Land, but it 

 differs in character from that we passed through yes- 

 terday. We have left the chalk ; and sand and peat, 

 mixed up with stones, show we are in a fir and heather 

 district. 



