2IO AN OCTOBER ABROAD. 



but chose rather to walk past it and up the slight rise 

 of ground beyond, where I paused and looked out over 

 the fields just lit up by the setting sun. Returning, I 

 stepped into the Shakespeare tavern, a little homely 

 wayside place on a street, or more like a path, apart 

 from the main road, and the good dame brought me 

 some " home-brewed, " which I drank sitting by a rude 

 table on a rude bench in a small, low room, with a 

 stone floor and an immense chimnev. The coals 

 burned cheerily, and the crane and hooks in the fire- 

 place called up visions of my earliest childhood. Ap- 

 parently the house and the surroundings, and the 

 atmosphere of the place and the ways of the people, 

 were what they were three hundred years ago. It was 

 all sw r eet and good, and I enjoyed it hugely, and was 

 much refreshed. 



Crossing the fields in the gloaming, I came up with 

 some children, each with a tin bucket of milk, thread- 

 ing their way toward Stratford. The little girl, a child 

 ten years old, having a larger bucket than the rest, was 

 obliged to set down her burden every few rods and 

 rest ; so I lent her a helping hand. I thought her 

 prattle, in that broad but musical patois, and along 

 these old hedge-rows, the most delicious I ever heard. 

 She said they came to Shattery for milk because it was 

 much better than they got at Stratford. In America 

 they had a cow of their own. Had she lived in Amer- 

 ica then ? " Oh, yes, four years/' and the stream of 

 her talk was fuller at once. But I hardly recognized 



