so as to let the vehicle pass. The poor gouty man had to go to the farm at the end of the lane once, to do a job in the winter-time early in the morning, when it was very dark there between the high banks. Unknown to the workman, a butcher had started the same morning to fetch a fat pig from the farm. The huge pigs of the marshes at that time were not like the dainty little porkers folks affect nowadays. It was very cold weather, the pig had been got into the cart-no easy job—and the strong netting was fixed over him. Then the butcher returned to the kitchen door, just to have some hot elderberry wine, with a dash of something stronger in it; when, made restless possibly by the complaining grunts of the unhappy pig, the horse snapped the slight fastening with which he had been tied up, and away he bolted right down the narrow lane. As poor gouty Jimmy trudged up slowly with his stick, he heard a strange combination of sounds approaching from the other end-the horse's gallop, with the fat pig's lamentations, as he was tossed up and down, and banged from side to side of the noisy cart, in most cruel fashion. Jimmy's hair stood on end at the unearthly sounds proceeding from the darkness in front, and

coming nearer every moment. There was the horse's snort, and the beat of hoofs, coming thud, thud, ever louder. He was too startled to distinguish the different sounds; the yells and shrieks of the pig seemed uppermost. When the unseen terror was close on him, with a wild cry for mercy Jimmy threw down his stick and scrambled up the bank with all the agility of a monkey. The terror rushed past, and from the top the man heard the groaning and wailing pass away in the distance.

An hour later a wild figure dashed into the workshop, saying that a part of hell had broke loose and passed him on the road. As he pranced round in his excitement, his fellow-workmen noticed that his gout had quite left him. And, indeed, from that time, he never felt another twinge of it. For many a day afterwards Jimmy got twitted about his gouty feet. He took it very good-humouredly, and often told how Pig-cart lane had cured him most effectually.

CHAPTER XXII.

ON THE NOR'ARD HILLS.

"THERE is still shooting to be had," said Larry, before the cousins parted for the night. "We will have one day at it, before you go back to your new home; some friends of mine will give us a good bit of rough shooting if I ask them. Let us have a walk to-morrow over the Nor❜ard hills; we shall find their answer here when we return."

The name Nor'ard hills was probably an abbreviation of North Wood hills, which had been given by the flat dwellers to the higher ground beyond Marshton, from which the most extensive view for many miles round could be obtained. The only way of reaching these hills, or rather uplands, was through narrow lanes and by rough tracks, such as are termed drift-roads in some parts of the country. Perhaps

nowhere else are such hedges to be seen as those which fenced in the lanes on either side. They were formed of huge blackthorns, whitethorn, crab and wild-plum trees, bullaces. Impenetrable they were both to man and beast-that is anything in the way of farm stock. Here and there you would distinguish the heavily thatched roof of some lonely farmstead showing through the ash-trees by which it was surrounded, and beyond them the track that led for a long distance to the uplands looking over the marshes. Past great open fields it went, commanding a view seawards. From them the flash and report could be seen and heard from the majestic three-decker of a hundred and twenty guns, that lay ten miles away; it was the guard-ship lying off the dockyard.

When the snow drifted over those wide stretches of fields, which were only divided in places by belts of marshland that could not at that time be brought under cultivation, it would have been madness to attempt to cross them; the wind blew in a perfect hurricane at times direct from the sea, tearing the snow up in vast winding - sheets, wherewith it drifted on.

smothered all they

S

Denzil had seen

those hedges on the field-side with only the topmost twigs of the boughs showing; and with these natural bulwarks to protect the narrow track, the snow still lay there waist-deep in severe winters. Some of the lonely cottages would then be covered up to their chimneys. Then was the time to prove of what stuff the marshland dwellers were made. They gathered in relief parties from all quarters and dug out the buried homes. Each farmer possessed a snowplough, and the merry jingle of the bells that were carried about the necks of the powerful horses bore in advance glad tidings of help to those cottagers who were prisoners beneath the snow-drifts. These were the great fields over which the tons of fresh fish were spread, to which the gulls came. In harvesttime they showed one long stretch of golden corn; but in winter their appearance was dreary, only enlivened by the plovers, gulls, hooded crows, and magpies that flocked to them. Twice during the year the gulls came there when the fish were placed in heaps, and then again when the fields were ploughed. To a lover of bird-life it was a pretty sight to see those gulls following the ploughs, picking up the worms and insects that the ploughshares