ad known them and they us for years. It was one of the greatest
surprises, and remains one of the most pleasant recollections, of my
brief career as a resident in England, the kindly cordiality of these
neighbors in Mayberry.

The first caller was Dr. Bayliss, who occupied "Jasmine Gables," the
pretty house next door. He dropped in one morning, introduced himself,
shook hands and chatted for an hour. That afternoon his wife called upon
Hephzy. The next day I played a round of golf upon the private course
on the Manor House grounds, the Burgleston Bogs grounds--with the doctor
and his son, young Herbert Bayliss, just through Cambridge and the
medical college at London. Young Bayliss was a pleasant, good-looking
young chap and I liked him as I did his father. He was at present
acting as his father's assistant in caring for the former's practice, a
practice which embraced three or four villages and a ten-mile stretch of
country.

Naturally I was interested in the Manor estate and its owner. The
grounds were beautiful, three square miles in extent and cared for, so
Bayliss, Senior, told me, by some hundred and fifty men, seventy of
whom were gardeners. Of the Manor House itself I caught a glimpse,
gray-turreted and huge, set at the end of lawns and flower beds, with
fountains playing and statues gleaming white amid the foliage. I asked
some questions concerning its owner. Yes, she was Lady Kent Carey and
she had a nephew named Heathcroft. So there was a chance, after all,
that I might again meet my ship acquaintance who abhorred "griddle
cakes." I imagined he would be somewhat surprised at that meeting. It
was an odd coincidence.

As for the game of golf, my part of it, the least said the better.
Doctor Bayliss, who, it developed, was an enthusiast at the game, was
kind enough to tell me I had a "topping" drive. I thanked him, but there
was altogether too much "topping" connected with my play that forenoon
to make my thanks enthusiastic. I determined to practice assiduously
before attempting another match. Somehow I felt responsible for the
golfing honor of my country.

Other callers came to the rectory. The two curates, their names were
Judson and Worcester, visited us; young men, both of them, and good
fellows, Worcester particularly. Although they wore clerical garb
they were not in the least "preachy." Hephzy, although she liked them,
expressed surprise.

"They didn't act a bit like ministers," she said. "They did