waiting for a reply, applies his
mouth to one of the rat-holes. Something must come of it, if he doesn't
burst. Good heavens! I hope he has no apoplectic tendencies. Yes, here
it comes, sure enough, a grewsome sound between a moan and a roar, and
spreads itself away over the valley, and up the hillside, and into the
woods at the back of the house--a ghost-like, awful voice. "Um do say,
sir," says mine host rising purple-faced, while the moan is still coming
out of the "Stwun," "as they used in old times to warn the country-side,
by blawing the stwun when the enemy was acomin'--and as how folks could
make un heered them for seven mile round; leastways, so I've heered
Lawyer Smith say, and he knows a smart sight about them old times." We
can hardly swallow Lawyer Smith's seven miles; but could the blowing of
the stone have been a summons, a sort of sending the fiery cross round
the neighbourhood in the old times? What old times? Who knows? We pay
for our beer, and are thankful.

"And what's the name of the village just below, landlord?"

"Kingstone Lisle, sir."

"Fine plantations you've got 'ere?"

"Yes, sir, the Squire's 'mazin' fond of trees and such like."

"No wonder. He's got some real beauties to be fond of. Good day,
landlord."

"Good day, sir, and a pleasant ride to 'e."

And now, my boys, you whom I want to get for readers, have you had
enough? Will you give in at once, and say you're convinced, and let me
begin my story, or will you have more of it? Remember, I've only been
over a little bit of the hillside yet--what you could ride round easily
on your ponies in an hour. I'm only just come down into the vale, by
Blowing Stone Hill, and if I once begin about the vale, what's to stop
me? You'll have to hear all about Wantage, the birthplace of Alfred, and
Farringdon, which held out so long for Charles the First (the vale was
near Oxford, and dreadfully malignant; full of Throgmortons, Puseys, and
Pyes, and such like, and their brawny retainers). Did you ever read
Thomas Ingoldsby's "Legend of Hamilton Tighe?" If you haven't you ought
to have. Well, Farringdon is where he lived before he went to sea; his
real name was Hampden Pye, and the Pyes were the great folk at
Farringdon. Then there's Pusey, you've heard of the Pusey horn, which
King Canute gave to the Puseys of that day, and which the gallant old
squire, lately gone to his rest (whom Berkshire freeholders turned out
of last Parliament, to their etern