Let uncle Jacob turn Turk, Jew, or Heathen, any thing but a Papist, and the six sectarian teachers of the village of S were content. "Now, brother Jacob," said his roaring reverence, after a long-winded prayer, in which he professed to command great influence with the powers above, "how do you feel? Tell us your experience, and what you see."

The village of Hooker's Bend amuses itself mainly with questionable jests that range all the way from the slightly brackish to the hopelessly obscene.

The hum of the village life came to him, the sound of voices, the tread of feet, the twang of a boyish bowstring, but the guard in the doorway never stirred. It seemed to Dick that the Sioux, who wore very little clothing, was carved out of reddish-brown stone.

That she had been stolen admitted of no doubt, as there was no water near the cottage; and had any accident happened, they must have found her, as they had searched every part of the village before they ventured to return home.

She wanted to go in every direction at once; for she knew everybody in the village, knew all their troubles and perplexities, and felt the call from every house. 'Steady, he told her; 'one thing at a time, you know. Her thoughts, he saw, had turned across the sea to Ireland where her strongest ties were. Ireland seemed close, and quite as accessible as the village.

The large house with mullioned windows, near the church, now occupied by a Roman Catholic industrial school, was once a court-house belonging to the Clifford family. Down a road running E. from the church is Gurney Street Farm, an old manor-house. Carhampton, a village on the Dunster and Williton road, 2 m. S.E. of Dunster. The church has been restored and in parts rebuilt.

And as I went out of the village, I accosted a labourer, who was trudging my way, fork on shoulder, and asked him if that was the parson and his wife?

Her face was drawn; her eyes bloodshot from restrained tears all the color gone from her cheeks. "You bring Aunt Felicia, Uncle Peter, and the bags; I will go ahead," she said, tying her veil so as to shield her face. "No, I won't wait for anything." News of Ruth's expected arrival had reached the village, and the crowd at the station had increased.

Once they drew aside to let pass a procession of Belgian refugees, those who had held to their village homes until bombardment had destroyed them stout peasant women in short skirts and with huge bundles, old men, a few young ones, many children. The terror of the early flight was not theirs, but there was in all of them a sort of sodden hopelessness that cut Sara Lee to the heart.

His birthplace was at Cresswell, a little village near Morpeth, where he was born in August, 1852, so that he was not quite thirty-nine when he finally wore himself out with his ceaseless exertions.