The Essex Union, 3 1 1 



pint of ale, I proceeded to make inquiries about those I 

 had known in olden times as residents in a locality 

 where once every house was open to me. 



'^ Ah/' said my informant, who from the nature of 

 his profession has the entree to all the families of dis- 

 tinction for miles round, " he wasn^t a bad sort wasn't 

 Parson Holding — a bit odd, you know ; well, he lies 

 there,'' pointing to the churchyard, which is in lugu- 

 brious vicinity to the Bell. 



" And the Major ? " said I. 



'^Well, he's dead and gone, and all belonging to 

 him ; and there's new folks there now, but they don't 

 carry on now as they did in the old times, master, 

 that you remember — at least I judge so, and I ought 

 to know, as I alius attends to the kitchen chimbley 

 myself, same as I used to do, and I knows that there's 

 a great deal less soot, and a plaguey sight less beer 

 about than there used to was." 



" And the Sterrys ?" I asked. 



" Well, the're all dead and gone, as far as I know ; 

 leastways she was brought home from ^ furren parts,' 

 and laid along with t' others in the old churchyard 

 there, near which they lived for many a long year, as 

 I dare say you remember." 



Fortunately by this time my acquaintance had put 

 himself ''outside his pint," and the conversation 

 being decidedly melancholy, I mounted my "gallant 

 grey," (I don't know why horses of this colour are 

 invariably spoken of as being addicted to gallantry), 

 and rode off to meet the hounds. Not far had I to 

 travel before meeting with Mr. W. H. White, the 

 Master and Huntsman of the Essex Union, alongside 

 of whom trotted seventeen couples of speedy-looking 



