inishing and bending away on the furthest horizon.

The old man frequently stretched his eyes ahead to gaze over the tract
that he had yet to traverse. At length he discerned, a long distance
in front of him, a moving spot, which appeared to be a vehicle, and
it proved to be going the same way as that in which he himself was
journeying. It was the single atom of life that the scene contained,
and it only served to render the general loneliness more evident. Its
rate of advance was slow, and the old man gained upon it sensibly.

When he drew nearer he perceived it to be a spring van, ordinary in
shape, but singular in colour, this being a lurid red. The driver
walked beside it; and, like his van, he was completely red. One dye
of that tincture covered his clothes, the cap upon his head, his
boots, his face, and his hands. He was not temporarily overlaid with
the colour; it permeated him.

The old man knew the meaning of this. The traveller with the cart
was a reddleman--a person whose vocation it was to supply farmers
with redding for their sheep. He was one of a class rapidly becoming
extinct in Wessex, filling at present in the rural world the place
which, during the last century, the dodo occupied in the world of
animals. He is a curious, interesting, and nearly perished link
between obsolete forms of life and those which generally prevail.

The decayed officer, by degrees, came up alongside his
fellow-wayfarer, and wished him good evening. The reddleman turned
his head, and replied in sad and occupied tones. He was young, and
his face, if not exactly handsome, approached so near to handsome that
nobody would have contradicted an assertion that it really was so in
its natural colour. His eye, which glared so strangely through his
stain, was in itself attractive--keen as that of a bird of prey, and
blue as autumn mist. He had neither whisker nor moustache, which
allowed the soft curves of the lower part of his face to be apparent.
His lips were thin, and though, as it seemed, compressed by thought,
there was a pleasant twitch at their corners now and then. He was
clothed throughout in a tight-fitting suit of corduroy, excellent in
quality, not much worn, and well-chosen for its purpose, but deprived
of its original colour by his trade. It showed to advantage the good
shape of his figure. A certain well-to-do air about the man suggested
that he was not poor for his degree. The natural query of an observer
would have