were old and picturesque.

"I lunched luxuriously on bread and cheese and beer in the bar of a small
inn, and resolved to go a little further before turning back. When at
length I found I had gone far enough, I turned up a lane at right angles
to the road I was passing, and resolved to find my way back by another
route. It is a long lane that has no turning, but this had several, each
of which had turnings of its own, which generally led, as I found by
trying two or three of them, into the open marshes. Then, tired of
lanes, I resolved to rely upon the small compass which hung from my watch
chain and go across country home.

"I had got well into the marshes when a white fog, which had been for
some time hovering round the edge of the ditches, began gradually to
spread. There was no escaping it, but by aid of my compass I was saved
from making a circular tour and fell instead into frozen ditches or
stumbled over roots in the grass. I kept my course, however, until at
four o'clock, when night was coming rapidly up to lend a hand to the fog,
I was fain to confess myself lost.

"The compass was now no good to me, and I wandered about miserably,
occasionally giving a shout on the chance of being heard by some passing
shepherd or farmhand. At length by great good luck I found my feet on a
rough road driven through the marshes, and by walking slowly and tapping
with my stick managed to keep to it. I had followed it for some distance
when I heard footsteps approaching me.

"We stopped as we met, and the new arrival, a sturdy-looking countryman,
hearing of my plight, walked back with me for nearly a mile, and putting
me on to a road gave me minute instructions how to reach a village some