30 WAYFARING NOTIONS 



dipped ; the swans' talking generally of some- 

 thing unpleasant, I fancy, because they seemed 

 ever on the grumble ; and the moor-hens giving 

 off their perky little remarks. All manner of 

 little and big strangers would come peeping out 

 of the reeds and bulrushes. I can't call to mind 

 any bulrushes fatter than these used to come in 

 due season. Very, very fascinating all this was, 

 and I never could tire of it. Neither did he, the 

 wheeler, who used to study the creatures' ways, 

 tricks, and manners, and take in the beautiful 

 little mise-en-scene to such an extent that he 

 invariably on warm days fell asleep, not seldom 

 dropping the corkscrew overboard in the process. 

 I wish the old man was about now, and I with him 

 in the boat, the one in which we cramped our 

 limbs, and called the suffering all in the day's 

 pleasure, or any other boat so long as I could 

 have one more spell of perfect restful peace in 

 pure air, with an excuse for pretending to be 

 occupied, and not forgetting the corkscrew section 

 of the business. 



Here, you say, where on earth is the connec- 

 tion between Squire Gratwicke and corkscrews ? 

 You do, do you? Look here, now, and I'll tell 

 you how the links come along. Patching Pond, 

 the village, is only a step from the squire's old 

 home. It happened that the owner of Merry 

 Monarch, winner of the Derby in 1845, ^^^ ^ 

 real good sort. (Half West Sussex was con- 

 cerned as claiming in a massive law suit when 

 his estate was to be administered. This I 

 mention not as proof of his moral worth, but 

 because the incident occurred to my memory at 

 the moment of writing.) At different periods he 

 had set up, as was formerly a kindly patriarchal 



