136 WITHIN AN HOUR OF LONDON TOWN. 



the water falls on the top of the wheel overshot is 

 the term for it. Lying below is the house, and the 

 garden full of fruit-trees, flowers, and vegetables. 

 Trees, house, and mill are all covered with moss of 

 many tints. 



" Good morning," sounds from behind, and turn- 

 ing round we see the miller looking at us over the 

 half-door. Returning his greeting, we ask permis- 

 sion to walk along his stream. 



" Well, I don't hardly know what to say about it ; 

 are you one of them artist chaps ? " 



"No." 



"That's all right, then, so far. I don't hackle to 

 'em much. Three of 'em come here last week and 

 asked me if they could paint the old mill. Well, of 

 course, I said they could if they liked. They was 

 youngish chaps to look at, but what puzzled me 

 was they all had glasses on and smoked big pipes. 

 I never see the pipes out of their mouths all the 

 time they was about here. It wasn't long they 

 stayed. First they walked all over the place to get 

 the best point of sight, as they called it. Then 

 they set to work for a bit, then got up and looked 

 at what the others had bin dooin', and begun to 



