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 morning "betimes," to once again employ Mr. Pepys's favourite expression. For when driving across country it is well to have a long day before one; even then the whole day was sometimes too short!

Affixed to the porch of the church we observed the following notice, that plainly tells its own tale of changed times and changed ways, and of an enlightened, up-to-date ecclesiasticism:—

Cyclists Welcomed In Cycling Dress.

Entering the building we heard a peculiar creaking noise, apparently proceeding from the tower above, that was in singular contrast with the otherwise profound stillness of the interior. This puzzled us, and, discovering a circular stone stairway that led up the tower, we promptly ascended it to solve the mystery. This eventually—after climbing over one hundred steps (we counted them)—took us into a small chamber, where we found the sexton winding up an ancient clock of curious design, an interesting specimen of medieval handicraft. I sincerely trust that no agent from South Kensington or other museum, or any emissary from Wardour Street, will unearth this antique "time-teller," or if unhappily they do, I trust that they will not be permitted to possess it, even though they promise a brand new clock in its place! I prefer to see such curiosities in their rightful positions, where they ought to remain their natural life undisturbed, and where alone they are in harmony with their surroundings. Many an ancient