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There are several notable horse fairs still held near Evesham. Besides the one at Pershore, already mentioned, the most important fairs are held at Stow-on-the-Wold and Shipston-on-Stour, both very out-of-the-way places; and many stories of the wiles of horse-copers were related in connection therewith. I remember the following told as occurring at Stow-on-the-Wold.

Gwinnie could come at the week-end; she implored her to hang on for five days longer, not to leave Stow-on-the-Wold till they could see it together. A letter from Gibson, repeating himself. The family from Birmingham were going through the door; fat faces straining furtively. If they knew if they only knew. She stood, reading. She heard the door shut.

It had indeed been a glorious day. The hounds, after meeting close to Moreton-in-the-Marsh, in Warwickshire, had found a great hart in the forest near Seizincote, and had hunted him "at force" over the deep undrained vale up on to the Cotswold Hills, away past Stow-on-the-Wold and Bourton-on-the-Water, towards the great woods of Chedworth. But the stag, after crossing the Windrush close to Mr.

She would have to wire to Gwinnie Denning to meet her at Cirencester. She wondered whether Gwinnie's mother's lumbago would last over the week-end. It was Friday. Perhaps Gwinnie had started. Perhaps there would be a wire from her at the hotel. Going on to Cirencester when you wanted to be in Stow-on-the-Wold, what was it but a cowardly retreat? Driven out of Stow-on-the-Wold by Gibson? Not she!

Thus: Moreton-in-the-Marsh distinguishes from More-ton-on-Lug. Bourton-on-the-Water distinguishes from Bourton-on-the-Hill. Stow-on-the-Wold distinguishes from Stowe-Nine-Churches. Then we find Shipston-on-Stour and Shipton-under-Whichwood. Hinton-on-the-Green and Hinton-in-the-Hedges. Aston-under-Hill and Aston-under-Edge.

And this his Majesty's friends in North Wales had concerted; and, in order to it, Sir Jacob Ashby gathered what forces he could, in our parts, and attempted to join the king at Oxford, and to have proposed it to him; but Sir Jacob was entirely routed at Stow-on-the-Wold, and taken prisoner, and of 3000 men not above 600 came to Oxford.

For fifty miles you might gallop on across those undulating fields, and meet no human being on your way. We have ridden forty miles on end along the Fosseway, and, save in the curious half-forsaken old towns of Moreton-in-the-Marsh and Stow-on-the-Wold, we scarcely met a soul on the journey. What a marvellous work was that old Roman Fosseway!

Some of our neighbours had given us specially lively specimens of the personalities indulged in at the meetings of their local bodies, Boards of Guardians, and Councils notably, at that time, those of Winchcombe and Stow-on-the-Wold, where these exhibitions appeared to form a favourite diversion.

There isn't anybody there." "Oh." He lingered. "Do you know who he is?" she said. "No. I don't know anything. I don't even know where I am. But I hope it's Bourton-on-the-Hill." "I'm afraid it isn't. It's Stow-on-the-Wold." He laughed and shifted his knapsack to his left shoulder, and held up his chin. His eyes slewed round, raking the horizon. "It's all right," she said.

As for Shakespeare, after bidding adieu to the old squire, and thanking him for his hospitality, he mounted his game little Irish hobby and steered his course due northward for Stow-on-the-Wold.