. He was always early at a
railway station, he said, if only to save himself the unnecessary and
wasteful excitement hurry commonly produces; and so he came to meet us
with a cheery manner, as if care were shut up in some desk or closet he
had left behind, and he were ready to make the day a gay one, whatever
the sun might say to it. A small roll of manuscript in his hand led him
soon to confess that a new story was already begun; but this
communication was made in the utmost confidence, as if to account for
any otherwise unexplainable absences, physically or mentally, from our
society, which might occur. But there were no gaps during that autumn
afternoon of return to Gad's Hill. He told us how summer had brought him
no vacation this year, and only two days of recreation. One of those, he
said, was spent with his family at "Rosherville Gardens," "the place,"
as a huge advertisement informed us, "to spend a happy day." His
curiosity with regard to all entertainments for the people, he said to
us, carried him thither, and he seemed to have been amused and rewarded
by his visit. The previous Sunday had found him in London; he was
anxious to reach Gad's Hill before the afternoon, but in order to
accomplish this he must walk nine miles to a way station, which he did.
Coming to the little village, he inquired where the station was, and,
being shown in the wrong direction, walked calmly down a narrow road
which did not lead there at all. "On I went," he said, "in the perfect
sunshine, over yellow leaves, without even a wandering breeze to break
the silence, when suddenly I came upon three or four antique wooden
houses standing under trees on the borders of a lovely stream, and, a
little farther, upon an ancient doorway to a grand hall, perhaps the
home of some bishop of the olden time. The road came to an end there,
and I was obliged to retrace my steps; but anything more entirely
peaceful and beautiful in its aspect on that autumnal day than this
retreat, forgotten by the world, I almost never saw." He was eager, too,
to describe for our entertainment one of the yearly cricket-matches
among the villagers at Gad's Hill which had just come off. Some of the
toasts at the supper afterward were as old as the time of Queen Anne.
For instance,--

"More pigs,
Fewer parsons";

delivered with all seriousness; a later one was, "May the walls of old
England never be covered with French polish!"

Once more we recall a morning