people of Shroudham could no more conceive
why any guest, however great, could require
more than one day-room, than most French-
men can understand what a single man can
want with more than one room at. all. A
staircase at one corner led up to my dormitory.
It had a neat little table, four elm
chairs, and two arm ditto, all shining from
the effects of what is there called elbow-
grease; and, by way of company, a tall,
round-faced, eight-day clock, stood up in the
corner opposite to the stair-case, and evidenced
the principle of life within it, by uttering its
monotonous unceasiug tick. The remarkable
feature of this clock, however, was its being
six inches too tall for the room it stood in,
—a difficulty which, though puzzling, had still
been overcome. The Patagonian clock
remained untouched, neither spoiled of its
crown of carving and gilding, nor dismounted
from its broad and solid pedestal; but a
square hole had been dug in the floor, paved
with bricks and lined with a skirting board,
and into that convenient hollow the too tall
clock had modestly stepped. Opposite to the
clock was the door into the front yard; in the
other wall forming the angle was the door
into the central kitchen.

My supper, or, as we should now say, my
dinner, was over. I stirred my fire, sipped
my glass of grog, and took out the county
map to make sure of the ground of
tomorrow's campaign, when the " customers"
began to assemble in the next room. At
first there were only a small farmer or two, a
marshman or two, and a travelling draper,
who periodically supplied Shroudham and
other neighbouring " towns." Others arrived
afterwards. To enliven the party, Joe the
ostler was invited in, not in his professional
character of ostler, but to make his celebrated
display of ventriloquism, for which he was
usually rewarded by draughts of beer and
sips of brandy and water; and, at rare and
blessed intervals, by a sixpence or two. So
we had conversations with the boy up the
chimney, and the man going down the lane,
witty enough, as they gave entire satisfaction
to the public of Shroudham. All this I could
hear, without playing the eaves-dropper.
Presently, Joe approached my parlour door,
and in a delicate way improvised an imaginary
dialogue with some one on my side of it, by
which I was given to understand, that it
would not be taken amiss if I joined the
select circle on theirs, for hatf-an-nour. On
this hint I rose, opened the unsocial barrier,
and entered the assembly, where I was
ushered to the seat of comfort, and therefore,
in village inns, of honour. Mrs. Rudd and
Nurse Andrews were also in the room giving
the baby a final dandle, and haranguing her
in mother's nonsense, before putting her to
bed.

The party had scarcely had time to settle
in their own minds what sort of a looking
fellow, I, the stranger, was—  and I, the gentleman
with the wonderful " fancy " for birds,
had not yet decided which of the marshmen
I should make friends with and give a glass
of grog to, in the hope of gleaning a little
lore in return—when the outer door of the
apartment opened, and a tall, strong-built
man entered, with the air of feeling himself
quite at home. His dress at once announced
that he was a miller by trade. He might
be fifty years of age, but his countenance
still retained a hale and ruddy complexion,
and was of that open and frank-looking
character,'' that you would at once say to
yourself, " this man, at least, must be
honest." The whole expression of his face
was that of habitual cheerfulness, though
just at the present moment his mind seemed
to be occupied by some unusual cause of
thoughtfulness.

The new-comer nodded familiarly to the
customers, one by one, in a friendly way, but
without a smile,—a gravity of salutation
which seemed to astonish them greatly.

"Raven is very solid to-night," said my
intended confidant to his neighbouring smoker.
"I wonder what can be the matter. That's
John Raven, Rudd's father-in-law," he added
to me. " We never have such pleasant eve-
nings as when he is here."

Raven stepped, with a peculiar gait, across
the room to the spot where I was sitting by
the side of our host. He drew a chair behind
us, gave me a sort of half-bow, half-nod, and
sat down. I then perceived the cause of his
halting motion. He had lost a leg, which
was replaced by a wooden one; and since the
accident he had evidently grown heavier and
stouter, without losing his activity.

Rudd looked at him, as if to ask the cause
of his seriousness. He leaned forward, and
said in a low voice—not as if he were uttering
any secret, but rather to prevent his words
from being heard in the further part of the
room where the women were—  " There's
something happened at Bammant's marsh-mill
late this afternoon. Has Jane heard of it
yet?"

"No, nor I either, nor I think has any
one else. We hear the news here, you
know, as soon as anywhere. What can have
happened at Bammant's mill?" asked Rudd,
anxiously, and looking exceedingly thoughtful
in turn.

"A very shocking accident. It 'seems as if
ill luck and mills were to go together, as far
as that rascal is concerned."

"Good God! " said Rudd, still more
excited. " He has not been playing his old
tricks again? He hasn't been driven to
murder?"

"No, no, not this time," said Raven. " It
is an accident, and nothing worse, though,
that's bad enough. He doesn't know of it
yet himself; I "met him going out of the
town, as I was coming up from the mill,
where I heard of it. When he caught sight
of me, he began whistling, by way of bravado;