London to John O 1 Groat's. 287 



got up in the Gothic order. I stopped to rest a 

 moment, and noticing the good woman setting her 

 tea-table, I invited myself to a seat at it, on the inn 

 basis, and had a pleasant meal and chat with her 

 and an under-gamekeeper of the Duke of Portland, 

 who had come in a little before me. The stories he 

 told me about the extent of the Duke's possessions 

 were marvellous, more especially in reference to his 

 game preserves. I should think there must be a 

 larger number of hares, rabbits, and partridges on 

 his estate than in the whole of New England. As 

 I sat engaged in conversation with the woman of the 

 house and this accidental guest, an unmistakable 

 American face met my eyes, as I raised them to the 

 opposite wall. It was the familiar face of a Bristol 

 clock, made in the Connecticut village adjoining the 

 one in which I was born. It wore the same honest 

 expression, which a great many ill-natured people, 

 especially in our Southern States, have regarded as 

 covering a dishonest and untruthful mind, or a bad 

 memory of the hours. Still it is the most ubiquitous 

 Americanism in the world, and it is pleasant to see 

 its face in so many cottages of laboring men from 

 Land's End to John 0' Groat's. 



Mansfield is a very substantial and venerable town, 

 bearing a name which one distinguished man has rendered 



