118 DAYS STOLEN FOR SPORT 



We three once drove in a farmer's dog-cart to a 

 pretty stream with instructions to put the horse up 

 in the workhouse stable, where it would be quite 

 at home, as the owner, being a guardian, often 

 drove it there. 



Fish were very plentiful, though small, and the 

 sport kept us so late by the riverside that when 

 we returned to the poorhouse it was a black 

 mass, without a guiding feature, in the pervad- 

 ing darkness and we were lost outside its sur- 

 rounding fence until we heard a voice on the other 

 side which, in response to a request for guidance, 

 said : 



" Another lost innocent ! can't find your way, can't 

 you ? Never been here or anywhere like it before 

 I'll warrant. Would like to enter by the front gate 

 being your first visit, eh ? Round you go and don't 

 lose yourself. Don't let me miss seeing your 

 innocent face. Hurry up, keep to your right hand 

 if they ain't both wrong uns." 



This complimentary invitation was responded to 

 by our ever-ready friend in a brief sentence from a 

 store he keeps ready for emergencies that need a 

 special brand. Tailing off from the dying sound of 

 the energetic one's voice came my loud laughter 

 which, when joined in by the other two, must have 

 sounded very unusual and evidently untramplike to 

 our unseen listener as he discovered by it who we 

 were, apologised and came to our rescue with a 

 lamp, and was most assiduous in helping us away 

 with brightly burning lamps that we might not lose 

 ourselves again. 



We reached the farmhouse safely, and the farmer 

 guardian and his family much enjoyed the literary 



