268 NATURE IN DOWNLAND 



rubbish, and two or three days' ashes and cinders 

 heaped in the fireplace; but it was warm, and light, 

 and social. The landlord was eating his supper; he 

 had it on the extreme corner of the clothless deal 

 table, and it consisted of bread and cheese and raw 

 onions. The room was full of the odour. I sat down 

 on the other side of the fire ; and there, in the inner- 

 most domestic circle, the so to speak fragrant bosom 

 of the family, we had a good hour's talk, chiefly on 

 the decline of the public business in Midhurst — a 

 melancholy subject. I learnt that formerly there were 

 more public-houses in the town, but some had been 

 compelled to close, and that others were given by the 

 owners, the brewers, rent free. My host paid not one 

 penny rent for the grand old house he occupied, and 

 even so he could hardly make a decent living out of 

 it. Certainly his evening meal had not struck me as 

 too luxurious and expensive. Another tenant of an 

 ancient house close by was in even a worse case. 

 This landlord, to make both ends meet and save the 

 house, had conceived the happy idea of providing 

 sleeping accommodation to poor vagrants at fourpence 

 a night. He had gone into the byways and hedges 

 for his guests, and his house had become well known 

 to all the tramps and beggars that infest that part of 

 Sussex. The ragged, verminous person who "begs 

 your pardon" and wishes to say a word to you, is a 

 common object in Midhurst or the neighbourhood. 

 The word he wishes to say is that he is in want of 



