ecollection of something he had read somewhere. A
statement, that in England there was no law of trespass in the country
places, and that a person might go anywhere to pick mushrooms or wild
flowers, and no landlord could interfere so long as no damage was done.

"Don't you know the law?" asked Jones. He recited the law accordingly,
to the Unknown.

The other listened politely.

"I ask you for your name and address," said he. "Our lawyers will settle
the other matter."

Then anger came to Jones.

"I am the Earl of Rochester," said he, "and my address is Carlton House
Terrace, London. I have no cards on me."

Then the queerest sensation came to Jones, for he saw that the other had
recognised him. Rochester was evidently as well known to the ordinary
Englishman, by picture and repute, as Lloyd George.

"I beg your pardon," said the other, "but the fact is that my land is
over-run with people from Sandbourne--sorry."

"Oh, don't mention it," replied the Earl of Rochester. "I sha'n't do any
damage. Good day." They parted and he pursued his way.

A mile farther on he came upon a person with broken boots, a beery face,
and clothes to match his boots. This person was seated in the sunshine
under a hedge, a bundle and a tin can beside him.

He hailed Jones as "Guvernor" and requested a match.

Jones supplied the match, and they fell into conversation.

"Northbourne," said the tramp. "I'm goin' that way meself. I'll shew you
the quickest way when I've had a suck at me pipe."

Jones rested for a moment by the hedge whilst the pipe was lit. The
trespass business was still hot in his mind. The cave-in of the Landlord
had not entirely removed the sense of outrage.

"Aren't you afraid of being held up for trespass?" asked he.

"Trespass," replied the other, "not me. I ain't afeared of no farmers."

Jones gave his experience.

"Don't you be under no bloomin' error," said the tramp, when the recital
was finished. "That chap was right enough. That chap couldn't touch the
likes of me, unless he lied and swore I'd broke fences, but he could
touch the likes of you. I know the Lor. I know it in and out. Landlords
don't know it as well as me. That chap knows the lor, else he wouldn't
a' been so keen on gettin' your name and where you lived."

"But how could he have touched me if he cannot touch you?"

The tramp chuckled.

"I'll tell you," said he, "and I'll tell you what he'll do now he's got
where you live. He'll go