RACINESS 359 



man who could not get his wife up in the morning 

 in time to give him his breakfast before he went to 

 work, walked out into his garden, one morning, at 

 6 A.M., took a look round, and then shouted, at the 

 top of his voice, "Vire, Vire!" "Where, John, 

 where ? " cried his wife, rushing downstairs, half- 

 dressed, in a state of wild excitement. " In every- 

 one's chimbley but mine," replied the husband. 



Feudal ideas, even in these democratic days, 

 sometimes survive among labourers who have been 

 habitually employed upon an estate on which the 

 owner is resident and is one who is loved and deserves 

 to be loved. One such squire there was, till two 

 years ago, in this neighbourhood, Mr John Mansel- 

 Pleydell, the beau-ideal of a country gentleman, a 

 man of profound scientific attainments, but simple 

 as a child, with a keen sense of humour, with 

 benevolence written on every line of his countenance, 

 and with a charm of presence and of manner which 

 won all hearts. One day, after a battue on his 

 property at Whatcombe a function which he never 

 more than half enjoyed himself, and that much, only 

 for the pleasure it gave to his friends while the 

 spoils of the day were lying on the ground, remarked 

 in a tone of sympathy, to one of the old beaters, 

 " A lot of poor things killed to-day, Ted ! " " Ees, 



