hat
will not be ruled by the rudder must be ruled by the rock.' Be ruled by
the rudder, lassies. It is the wisest plan."

My Aunt Kezia said more, but it does not come back to me as that does.
And the next morning we said good-bye, and went out into the wide world.

I cannot profess to tell the whole of our journey. We slept the first
night at Kendal--and a cold bleak journey it was, by Shap Fells--the
second at Bolton, the third at Bakewell, the fourth at Leicester, the
fifth at Bedford, and on the Saturday evening we reached London.

I believe Annas was very much diverted at some of my speeches during the
journey. When I cried, after we had passed Bolton, and were going over
a moor, that I did not know there was heather in the South, she said,
"You have been a very short time in coming to the South, Cary."

"What do you mean, Annas?" said I.

"Only that a Midland man would think we were still in the North," said
she.

"What, is this not the South?" said I. "I thought everything was South
after we passed Lancaster."

"England is a little longer than that," said Annas, laughing. "No,
Cary: we do not get into the Midlands on this side of Derby, nor into
the South on this side of Bedford."

So I had to wait until Friday before I saw the South. When I did, I
thought it very flat and very woody. I could scarcely see anything for
trees; only [Note 2.] there were no hills to see. And how strange the
talk sounded! They seemed to speak all their u's as if they were e's,
and their a's the same. Annas laughed when I said that "take up the
mat" sounded in the South like "teek ep the met." It really did, to me.

"I suppose," said Flora, "our words sound just as queer to these
people."

"O Flora, they can't!" I cried.

Because we say the words right; and how can that sound queer?

It was nearly six o'clock when the chaise drew up before the door of my
Uncle Charles's house in Bloomsbury Square. These poor Southerners
think, I hear, that Bloomsbury Square is one of the wonders of the
world. The world must be very short of wonders, and so I said.

"O Cary, you are a bundle of prejudices!" laughed Annas.

Flora--who never can bear a word of disagreement--turned the discourse
by saying that Mr Cameron had told her Bloomsbury came from Blumond's
bury, the town of some man called Blumond.

And just then the door opened, and I felt almost terrified of the big,
grand-looking man who stood behind it. However