being drawn, in a light carriage, against such a wind as
this, by a blood-horse at his height of speed. Walking comes next to it;
but walking is not quite so luxurious or so spiritual, not quite so
much what one fancies of flying, or being carried above the clouds in a
balloon.

Nevertheless, a walk is a good thing; especially under this southern
hedgerow, where nature is just beginning to live again; the periwinkles,
with their starry blue flowers, and their shining myrtle-like leaves,
garlanding the bushes; woodbines and elder-trees pushing out their small
swelling buds; and grasses and mosses springing forth in every variety
of brown and green. Here we are at the corner where four lanes meet, or
rather where a passable road of stones and gravel crosses an impassable
one of beautiful but treacherous turf, and where the small white
farmhouse, scarcely larger than a cottage, and the well-stocked
rick-yard behind, tell of comfort and order, but leave all unguessed the
great riches of the master. How he became so rich is almost a puzzle;
for, though the farm be his own, it is not large; and though prudent and
frugal on ordinary occasions, Farmer Barnard is no miser. His horses,
dogs, and pigs are the best kept in the parish,--May herself, although
her beauty be injured by her fatness, half envies the plight of his
bitch Fly: his wife's gowns and shawls cost as much again as any shawls
or gowns in the village; his dinner parties (to be sure they are not
frequent) display twice the ordinary quantity of good things--two
couples of ducks, two dishes of green peas, two turkey poults, two
gammons of bacon, two plum-puddings; moreover, he keeps a single-horse
chaise, and has built and endowed a Methodist chapel. Yet is he the
richest man in these parts. Everything prospers with him. Money drifts
about him like snow. He looks like a rich man. There is a sturdy
squareness of face and figure; a good-humoured obstinacy; a civil
importance. He never boasts of his wealth, or gives himself undue
airs; but nobody can meet him at market or vestry without finding out
immediately that he is the richest man there. They have no child to all
this money; but there is an adopted nephew, a fine spirited lad, who
may, perhaps, some day or other, play the part of a fountain to the
reservoir.

Now turn up the wide road till we come to the open common, with its
park-like trees, its beautiful stream, wandering and twisting along, and
its rural brid