in the stall, while Matchem munched his oats, until one of the
stable boys came and released him. From that day the Squire rode no
more, and the occasion was memorable, alike for fishers and hinds.

When the old man died he was followed to his grave by the entire
population from nine farms and two fishing villages. Old men of eighty,
who remembered him when he was a bright young fellow in George the
Third's time, went and stood round his grave. Everybody wanted some
remembrance of him, but this could not be attained until the clever
national schoolmaster of the village suggested that an engraving should
be made from a photograph. You cannot go into one cottage or one
farm-house on the whole of the estate without finding an engraved
portrait of the splendid old man hung in a place of honour.

THE VILLAGE PREACHER.

The Methodists got a very strong hold in seaside places at the end of
the last century, but during the long pressure of the great War the
claims of religion were somewhat forgotten. Smuggling went on to an
extraordinary extent and the consequent demoralisation was very
apparent. The strict morality which the stern Methodists of the old
school taught had been broken, and some of the villages were little
better than nests of pirates. The decent people who lived inland were
continually molested by marauding ruffians who came from seaside
places, and to call a man a "fisher," was to label him with a term of
reproach.

On Saturday nights every Fisher Row was a scene of drunken turmoil, and
on Sunday the men lounged about drinking, the women scolding, while the
old-fashioned simplicity of life seemed to be forgotten altogether.

Grave countrymen shook their heads over the terrible change. Our village
had become notorious for bad behaviour, and the old man who tried to
keep up the traditions of religion was much distressed in his mind.

This local preacher was coming over the moor one fine summer night when
the moon shone so as to make the sands and the trees round the village
look splendid. The peacefulness of the night seemed to have impressed
him, and he was occupied with his own grave thoughts.

As he passed the tavern the front door opened, and a waft of rank
tobacco came out. Then came a little mob of fishermen, many of whom were
cursing and swearing. Two of them began to fight, and the local preacher
heard the thud of heavy blows. He stepped in amongst the crowd and tried
to separate the fighte