A flea will bite! and so will a Yorkshireman;
  A fly will drink out of anybody’s cup! and so will a Yorkshireman;
  A magpie will chatter! and so will a Yorkshireman: 
  And a flitch of bacon looks best when it’s hung! and so does a
      Yorkshireman.

We fancied a Lancashire man must have written that ditty.

[Illustration:  ROBIN HOOD’S WELL.]

The moon was shining brightly as we left the cottage, and a man we met, when he saw me limping so badly, stopped us to inquire what was the matter.  He was returning from Doncaster, and cheered us up by pointing to the moon, saying we should have the “parish lantern” to light us on our way.  This appeared to remind him of his parish church, where a harvest thanksgiving had just been held, with a collection on behalf of the hospital and infirmary.  He and seven of his fellow servants had given a shilling each, but, although there were “a lot of gentry” at the service, the total amount of the collection was only one pound odd.  The minister had told them he could scarcely for shame carry it in, as it was miserably small for an opulent parish like that!

We arrived at Doncaster at 8.30 p.m., and stayed at the temperance hotel in West Laith Street.  The landlord seemed rather reluctant about letting us in, but he told us afterwards he thought we were “racing characters,” which greatly amused us since we had never attended a race-meeting in our lives!

(Distance walked fourteen miles.)

Friday, October 27th.

Our host at Doncaster took a great interest in us, and, in spite of my sprained ankle, we had a good laugh at breakfast-time at his mistaking us for “racing characters.”  My brother related to him his experiences on the only two occasions he ever rode on the back of a horse unassisted.  The first of these was when, as quite a young boy, he went to visit his uncle who resided near Preston in Lancashire, and who thought it a favourable opportunity to teach him to ride.  He was therefore placed on the back of a quiet horse, a groom riding behind him on another horse, with orders not to go beyond a walking pace; but when they came near the barracks, and were riding on the grass at the side of the road, a detachment of soldiers came marching out through the entrance, headed by their military band, which struck up a quickstep just before meeting the horses.  My brother’s horse suddenly reared up on its hind legs, and threw him off its back on to the grass below, or, as he explained it, while the horse reared up he reared down!  He was more frightened than hurt, but the groom could not persuade him to ride on the horse’s back any farther, so he had to lead the horses home again, a distance of two miles, while my brother walked on the footpath.