the just epithet, and that you have 'St Mary on the Hill' and 'High
Town under the Wind' and 'The Borough over the Heath', which are
to-day exactly what their name describes them. If you doubt that
England has such descriptive names, consider the great Truth that at
one junction on a railway where a mournful desolation of stagnant
waters and treeless, stonewalled fields threatens you with experience
and awe, a melancholy porter is told off to put his head into your
carriage and to chant like Charon, 'Change here for Ashton under the
Wood, Moreton on the Marsh, Bourton on the Water, and Stow in the
Wold.'

Charmes does not fulfil its name nor preserve what its forgotten son
found so wonderful in it. For at luncheon there a great commercial
traveller told me fiercely that it was chiefly known for its
breweries, and that he thought it of little account. Still even in
Charmes I found one marvellous corner of a renaissance house, which I
drew; but as I have lost the drawing, let it go.

When I came out from the inn of Charmes the heat was more terrible
than ever, and the prospect of a march in it more intolerable. My head
hung, I went very slowly, and I played with cowardly thoughts, which
were really (had I known it) good angels. I began to look out
anxiously for woods, but saw only long whitened wall glaring in the
sun, or, if ever there were trees, they were surrounded by wooden
palisades which the owners had put there. But in a little time (now I
had definitely yielded to temptation) I found a thicket.

You must know that if you yield to entertaining a temptation, there is
the opportunity presented to you like lightning. A theologian told me
this, and it is partly true: but not of Mammon or Belphegor, or