122 Wd Lifein a Southern County. 
for each ditch—made very high and intended for 
steps; but the steps are worn away, and it is some- 
thing like climbing a perpendicular ladder. Another 
has a toprail of a whole tree, so broad and thick no 
one can possibly straddle it, so some friend of 
humanity has broken the second rail, and you creep 
under. Finally comes a steep bank, six or seven feet 
high, with rude steps formed of the roots of trees 
worn bare by iron-tipped boots, and of mere holes in 
which to put the toe. At the top the stile leans for- 
ward over the precipice, so that you have to suspend 
yourself in mid-air. Fortunately, almost every other 
one has a gap worn at the side just large enough to 
squeeze through after coaxing the briars to yield a 
trifle. For it is intensely characteristic of human 
nature to make gaps and short cuts. 
All the lads of the hamlet have a trysting-place 
at the cross-roads, or rather cross-lanes, where there 
is often an open waste space and a small clump of 
trees. If there is any mischief in the wind, there the 
council of war is sure to be held. There is a great 
rickyard not far distant, where in one of the open 
sheds is the thatcher’s workshop. 
He’is a very pronounced character in his way, 
with his leathern pads for the knees that he may be 
able to bear lengthened contact against the wooden 
tungs of the ladder, his little club to drive in the 
stakes, his shears to snip off the edges of the straw 
round the eaves, his iron needle of gigantic size with 
