CHAPTER III.

THE SASSIWN.

The Sassiwn day dawned bright and clear, and as the time for the first
service drew near, the roads and lanes were thronged with pedestrians
and vehicles of every description.

The doors of the houses in all the surrounding villages were closed for
the day, except in a few cases where illness made it impossible for the
inmates to leave their beds. Everybody--man, woman, and child,
including babies innumerable--turned their faces towards the sloping
field which for the day was the centre of attraction.

Already the grass was getting hidden by the black throng, and still the
crowds arrived, seating themselves row behind row on the wild thyme and
heather. The topmost corner of the field merged into a rocky
wilderness of stunted heath and patches of burnt grass, studded with
harebells, and this unapportioned piece of ground stretched away into
the adjoining corner of the Vicar's long meadow. In the afternoon
Cardo, who had virtuously kept away from the morning meetings,
sauntered down to chat with Dye, who had condescended to absent himself
from the third service, in order to attend to his duties on the farm.

"You sit here, Mr. Cardo," he said, with a confidential wink, "on your
own hedge; the Vicar can't be angry, and you will hear something worth
listening to."

Soon the sloping bank was crowded with its rows of human beings, all