CHAPTER III


Pretty D-----The venerable church--The stricken heart--Dormant
energies--The small packet--Nerves--The books--A picture--Mountain-like
billows--The footprint--Spirit of De Foe--Reasoning powers--Terrors of
God--Heads of the dragons--High-Church clerk--A journey--The drowned
country.

And when I was between six and seven years of age we were once more at
D---, the place of my birth, whither my father had been despatched on the
recruiting service. I have already said that it was a beautiful little
town--at least it was at the time of which I am speaking--what it is at
present I know not, for thirty years and more have elapsed since I last
trod its streets. It will scarcely have improved, for how could it be
better than it then was? I love to think on thee, pretty quiet D---,
thou pattern of an English country town, with thy clean but narrow
streets branching out from thy modest market-place, with thine
old-fashioned houses, with here and there a roof of venerable thatch,
with thy one half-aristocratic mansion, where resided thy Lady
Bountiful--she, the generous and kind, who loved to visit the sick,
leaning on her gold-headed cane, whilst the sleek old footman walked at a
respectful distance behind. Pretty quiet D---, with thy venerable
church, in which moulder the mortal remains of England's sweetest and
most pious bard.