fear of death and cultivate the arts of peace.

Thus this stately little manor house was reared, and many like it
throughout the kingdom; and there it still stands, and will stand long
after the modern building has fallen to the ground. For not without much
hard toil and sweat of brow did our forefathers erect these monuments of
"a day that is dead"; and they remain to testify to the solid masonry
and laborious workmanship of ancient times.

The descendants of this John Coxwell live on another property of theirs
some twelve miles away; it is nearly seventy years since they have
inhabited this old house. I was pleased to find, however, that the
present occupiers look after the labouring classes; that what rabbits
are killed on the manor are not sold, but distributed in the village.
There is an old ivy-clad building in the grounds, only a few paces from
the manor house. This is the village club. Here squire, farmer, and
labourer are accustomed to meet on equal terms. I was somewhat surprised
to see on the club table the _Times_, the _Pall Mall Gazette_, and other
papers. These wonderful specimens of nineteenth-century literature
contrast strangely with a place that in many respects has remained
unchanged for centuries.

There are few labourers in England, even in these days, who have the
opportunity--if they will take it--of reading the _Times'_ report of
every speech made in parliament. Perhaps, some day, will come forth from
this hamlet

"Some village Hampden, that with dauntless breast
The little tyrant of his fields withstood";