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 Keene were here to sketch us arriving thus, what an excellent subject we should make for a Punch picture with the legend below 'The pleasures of a driving tour!'" So excellent did the joke appear to us that we had changed our saturated clothing and put on dry things, and had warmed ourselves before a roaring wood fire which the kind-hearted landlady had lighted for us, and had further refreshed ourselves with the best the house could provide, before our merry spirits quieted down. So it took some time to quiet them down!

Now this digression has taken us to the village of Cowbit, a dreary, forsaken-looking place, desolate enough, one would imagine, to disgust even a recluse. Here we noticed the dilapidated church tower was leaning very much on one side, owing doubtless to the uncertain foundation afforded by the marshy soil; indeed, it leaned over to such an extent as to suggest toppling down altogether before long, so much so that it gave us the unpleasant feeling that it might untowardly collapse when we were there. It may be that the tower will stand thus for years; all the same, did I worship in that fane I feel sure I should ever be thinking rather about the stability of the fabric than of the prayers or of the sermon!

Leaving this forsaken spot—where we saw neither man, woman, nor child, not even a stray dog or odd chicken about to lessen its forlorn look—a short way ahead we discovered that our way was blocked by a broken-down traction engine, a hideous black iron monster of large proportions,