A ' MATUTINAL HOUR.' 141 



cious warning for the afternoon, and killing the faint 

 hope that clings to f twelve o'clock ' as an alterative. 



Now for my promised trespasser among the Swedes! 

 No need for man-traps to-day in that quarter, thought 

 I, preparing to meet the foe, with a pair of gaiters 

 that seemed made for the Slough of Despond. The 

 turf-ground weeded and yielded under every footstep, 

 plainly dating back the rain to an early hour of the 

 night, as I made my way to the field ; and as my eye 

 scanned its whole space over, the victory of the c early- 

 bird' seemed assured when suddenly close to me, 

 from the other side of the hedge, just where the mas- 

 ter-drain opened out, came a ringing " Good-morn- 

 ing, Sir !" into my very ear, and Mr. Greening, rising 

 from the bent posture in which he had been scrutin- 

 izing the drain, looked with mischievous unconcern 

 the victory he had promised, and accomplished. 



" Not deep enough !" quoth he ; laconically. 



" Which ?" 



" Oh the Drain not you ; and as for me, I was 

 deep enough ! You thought the drop o' rain had 

 stopped me : no, no ! I like a rainy day, to see this 

 sort o' land. These are laid at three foot ! Four's 

 better." 



"You really think so?" 



