ns--sheep
and wool, wool and sheep. Occasionally mysterious allusions are made to
'he,' what 'he' will do with a certain farm, whether 'he' will support
such and such a movement, or subscribe to some particular fund, what view
will 'he' take of the local question of the day? Perhaps some one has had
special information of the step 'he' is likely to take; then that favoured
man is an object of the deepest interest, and is cross-questioned all
round the table till his small item of authentic intelligence has been
thoroughly assimilated. 'He' is the resident within those vast and endless
walls, with the metal gates and the gilded coronet above--the prince of
this kingdom and its capital city. To rightly see the subjects loyally
hastening hither, let any one ascend the church tower on market day.

It is remarkably high, and from thence the various roads converging on the
town are visible. The province lies stretched out beneath. There is the
gleam of water--the little river, with its ancient mills--that flows
beside the town; there are the meadows, with their pleasant footpaths.
Yonder the ploughed fields and woods, and yet more distant the open hills.
Along every road, and there are many, the folk are hastening to their
capital city, in gigs, on horseback, in dog-traps and four-wheels, or
sturdily trudging afoot. The breeze comes sweet and exhilarating from the
hills and over the broad acres and green woods; it strikes the chest as
you lean against the parapet, and the jackdaws suspend themselves in
mid-air with outstretched wings upheld by its force. For how many years,
how many centuries, has this little town and this district around it been
distinct and separate? In the days before the arrival of the Roman legions
it was the country of a distinct tribe, or nation, of the original
Britons. But if we speak of history we shall never have done, for the town
and its antique abbey (of which this tower is a mere remnant) have mingled
more or less in every change that has occurred, down from the earthwork
camp yonder on the hills to to-day--down to the last puff of the
locomotive there below, as its driver shuts off steam and runs in with
passengers and dealers for the market, with the papers, and the latest
novel from London.

Something of the old local patriotism survives, and is vigorous in the
town here. Men marry in the place, find their children employment in the
place, and will not move, if they can help it. Their famili