aid the man the money, who, turning round,
shouted to the guard--"All right, Jem; got fare to ---;" and forthwith
whipped on his horses, especially the off-hand leader, for whom he seemed
to entertain a particular spite, to greater speed than before--the horses
flew.

A young moon gave a feeble light, partially illuminating a line of road
which, appearing by no means interesting, I the less regretted having
paid my money for the privilege of being hurried along it in the flying
vehicle. We frequently changed horses; and at last my friend the
coachman was replaced by another, the very image of himself--hawk nose,
red face, with narrow-rimmed hat and fashionable benjamin. After he had
driven about fifty yards, the new coachman fell to whipping one of the
horses. "D--- this near-hand wheeler," said he, "the brute has got a
corn." "Whipping him won't cure him of his corn," said I. "Who told you
to speak?" said the driver, with an oath; "mind your own business;
'tisn't from the like of you I am to learn to drive 'orses." Presently I
fell into a broken kind of slumber. In an hour or two I was aroused by a
rough voice--"Got to --- young man; get down if you please." I opened my
eyes--there was a dim and indistinct light, like that which precedes
dawn; the coach was standing still in something like a street; just below
me stood the guard. "Do you mean to get down," said he, "or will you
keep us here till morning? other fares want to get up." Scarcely knowing
what I did, I took my bundle and stick and descended, whilst two people
mounted. "All right, John," said the guard to the coachman, springing up
behind; whereupon off whisked the coach, one or two individuals who were
standing by disappeared, and I was left alone.

CHAPTER LX.

The Still Hour--A Thrill--The Wondrous Circle--The Shepherd--Heaps and
Barrows--What do you Mean?--Milk of the Plains--Hengist spared it--No
Presents.

After standing still a minute or two, considering what I should do, I
moved down what appeared to be the street of a small straggling town;
presently I passed by a church, which rose indistinctly on my right hand;
anon there was the rustling of foliage and the rushing of waters. I
reached a bridge, beneath which a small stream was running in the
direction of the south. I stopped and leaned over the parapet, for I
have always loved to look upon streams, especially at the still hours.
"What stream is this, I wonder?" said I, as