tradesman, and had begun life as a lady's-maid: her husband
was nothing but a labourer; his people had been labourers for
generations, consequently her marriage to him had involved a
considerable descent in the social scale. Hearing this, it
was hard to repress a smile.

The contrast between this man and the ordinary villager of his
class was as great in manners and conversation as in features
and expression. His combined dignity and gentleness, and
apparent unconsciousness of any caste difference between man
and man, were astonishing in one who had been a simple toiler
all his life.

There were some grown-up children, others growing up, with
others that were still quite small. The boys, I noticed,
favoured their mother, and had commonplace faces; the girls
took after their father, and though their features were not so
perfect they were exceptionally good-looking. The eldest son
--the disjointed, fly-away-looking young man who had conquered
all his enemies--had a wife and child. The eldest daughter
was also married, and had one child. Altogether the three
families numbered about sixteen persons, each family having
its separate set of rooms, but all dining at one table.
How did they do it? It seemed easy enough to them. They were
serious people in a sense, although always cheerful and
sometimes hilarious when together of an evening, or at their
meals. But they regarded life as a serious matter, a state of
probation; they were non-smokers, total abstainers, diligent
at their work, united, profoundly religious. A fresh wonder
came to light when I found that this poor woodman, with so