with our backs against the barn or the public-
house, and began to mend, what a sense of
popularity would grow upon us. When all the
children came to look at us, and the tailor, and the
general dealer, and the farmer who had been
giving a small order at the little saddler's, and the
groom from the great house, and the publican, and
even the two skittle-players (and here note that,
howsoever busy all the rest of village humankind
may be, there will always be two people
with leisure to play at skittles, wherever village
.skittles are), what encouragement would be on us
to plait and weave! No one looks at us while we
plait and weave these words. Clock-mending
again. Except for the slight inconvenience of
carrying a clock under our arm, and the mono-
tony of making the bell go, whenever we came to
a human habitation, what a pleasant privilege to
give a voice to the dumb cottage-clock, and set
it talking to the cottage family again. Likewise
we foresee great interest in going round by the
park plantations, under the overhanging boughs
(hares, rabbits, partridges, and pheasants, scudding
like mad across and across the chequered
ground before us), and so over the park ladder,
and through the wood, until we came to the
Keeper's lodge. Then would the Keeper be
discoverable at his door, in a deep nest of leaves,
smoking his pipe. Then, on our accosting him
in the way of our trade, would he call to Mrs.
Keeper, respecting " t'ould clock" in the kitchen.
Then, would Mrs. Keeper ask us into the lodge,
and on due examination we should offer to make
a good job of it for eighteenpence: which offer,
being accepted, would set us tinkling and clinking
among the chubby awe-struck little Keepers
for an hour and more. So completely to the
family's satisfaction should we achieve our work,
that the Keeper would mention how that there
was something wrong with the bell of the
turret stable-clock up at the Hall, and that if
we thought good of going up to the housekeeper
on the chance of that job too, why he would
us. Then, should we go, among the branching
oaks and the deep fern, by silent ways of
mystery known to the Keeper, seeing the herd
glancing here and there as we went along, until
we came to the old Hall, solemn and grand.
Under the Terrace Flower Garden, and round
by the stables, would the Keeper take us in,
and as we passed we should observe how
spacious and stately the stables, and how fine
the painting; of the horses' names over their
stalls, and now solitary all: the family being
in London. Then, should we find ourselves
presented to the housekeeper, sitting, in hushed
state, at needlework, in a bay-window looking
out upon a mighty grim red-brick quadrangle,
guarded by stone lions disrespectfully
throwing somersaults over the escutcheons of
the noble family. Then, our services accepted
and we insinuated with a candle into the stable
turret, we should find it to be a mere question
of pendulum, but one that would hold us until
dark. Then, should we fall to work, with a
general impression of Ghosts being about, and
of pictures in-doors that of a certainty came
out of their frames and " walked," if the
family would only own it. Then, should we
work and work, until the day gradually turned
to dusk, and even until the dusk gradually turned
to dark. Our task at length accomplished, we
should be taken into an enormous servants'
hall, and there regaled with beef and bread, and
powerful ale. Then, paid freely, we should be
at liberty to go, and should be told by a pointing
helper to keep round over yinder by the
blasted ash, and so straight through the woods,
till we should see the town-lights right afore
us. Then, feeling lonesome, should we desire
upon the whole, that the ash had not been
blasted, or that the helper had had the manners
not to mention it. However, we should keep on,
all right, until suddenly the stable bell would
strike ten in the dolefullest way, quite chilling
our blood, though we had so lately taught him
how to acquit himself. Then, as we went on,
should we recal old stories, and dimly consider
what it would be most advisable to do, in the
event of a tall figure, all in white, with saucer
eyes, coming up and saying, "I want you to
come to a churchyard and mend a church clock.
Follow me!" Then, should we make a burst to
get clear of the trees, and should soon find
ourselves in the open, with the town-lights bright
ahead of us. So should we lie that night at the
ancient sign of the Crispin and Crispanus, and rise
early in the morning to be betimes on tramp again.

Bricklayers often tramp, in twos and threes,
lying by night at their " lodges" which are
scattered all over the country. Bricklaying is another
of the occupations that can by no means be
transacted in rural parts, without the assistance
of spectators —- of as many as can be convened.
In thinly-peopled spots, I have known
bricklayers on tramp, coming up with bricklayers at
work, to be so sensible of the indispensability of
lookers-on, that they themselves have set up in
that capacity, and have been unable to subside
into the acceptance of a proffered share in the
job, for two or three days together. Sometimes,
the " navvy," on tramp, with an extra pair of
half-boots over his shoulder, a bag, a bottle,
and a can, will take a similar part in a job of
excavation, and will look at it without engaging
in it, until all his money is gone. The current
of my uncommercial pursuits caused me only
last summer to want a little body of workmen
for a certain spell of work in a pleasant part of
the country; and I was at one time honoured
with the attendance of as many as seven-and-
twenty, who were looking at six.

Who can be familiar with any rustic highway
in the summer-time, without storing up
knowledge of the many tramps who go from one
oasis of town or village to another, to sell a
stock in trade, apparently not worth a shilling
when sold? Shrimps are a favourite commodity
for this kind of speculation, and so are cakes of
a soft and spongy character, coupled with Spanish
nuts, and brandy balls. The stock is carried on
the head in a basket, and, between the head and
the basket, are the trestles, on which the stock
is displayed at trading times. Fleet of foot, but