forthathousehappenstobeMYhouse，andIhavereasontobelievethatwhathesaidwastrue。
Well！Imadenohaltthere，andIsoondroppedtheveryqueersmallboyandwenton。OvertheroadwheretheoldRomansusedtomarch，overtheroadwheretheoldCanterburypilgrimsusedtogo，overtheroadwherethetravellingtrainsoftheoldimperiouspriestsandprincesusedtojingleonhorsebackbetweenthecontinentandthisIslandthroughthemudandwater，overtheroadwhereShakespearehummedtohimself，’Blow，blow，thouwinterwind，’ashesatinthesaddleatthegateoftheinnyardnoticingthecarriers；allamongthecherryorchards，appleorchards，corn-
fields，andhop-gardens；sowentI，byCanterburytoDover。There，theseawastumblingin，withdeepsounds，afterdark，andtherevolvingFrenchlightonCapeGrinezwasseenregularlyburstingoutandbecomingobscured，asiftheheadofagiganticlight-
keeperinananxiousstateofmindwereinterposedeveryhalf-
minute，tolookhowitwasburning。