the presence of ancient earth-works, but whether they were prehistoric, Roman, Dane, or Saxon we did not know.  Occasionally we came to sections of the downs that were being brought under cultivation, the farms appearing very large.  In one place we saw four ploughs at work each with three horses, while the farmer was riding about on horseback.  We inquired about the wages from one of the farm hands, who told us the men got about 9s. per week, and the women who worked in the fields were paid eightpence per day.  Possibly they got some perquisites in addition, as it seemed a very small amount, scarcely sufficient to make both ends meet.

We had been walking quickly for more than four hours without encountering a single village, and were becoming famished for want of food; but the farmer’s man told us we should come to one where there was a public-house when we reached the River Avon by following the directions he gave us.  At Milston, therefore, we called for the refreshments which we so badly needed, and quite astonished our caterers, accustomed even as they were to country appetites, by our gastronomical performances on that occasion.

We were very much surprised when we learned that the small but pretty village of Milston, where we were now being entertained, was the birthplace of Joseph Addison, the distinguished essayist and politician, who, with his friend Steele, founded the Spectator, and contributed largely to the Tatler, and whose tragedy Cato aroused such enthusiasm that it held the boards of Drury Lane for thirty-five nights—­a great achievement in his time.  As an essayist Addison had no equal in English literature, and to his writings may be attributed all that is sound and healthy in modern English thought.  In our long walk we met with him first at Lichfield, where at the Grammar School he received part of his early education, and where, on one occasion, he had barred out the schoolmaster.  In the cathedral we saw his father’s monument—­he was Dean of Lichfield Cathedral—­and at Magdalen College, Oxford, where he completed his education, we again encountered remembrances of him—­we saw a delightful retreat called after him, “Addison’s Walk.”  On our journey farther south, when we passed through Lostwithiel, we were reminded that he was also a politician, for he represented that place in parliament.  His father was Rector of Milston when Joseph was born, in 1672.  He was chiefly remembered in our minds, however, for his Divine Poems, published in 1728, for we had sung some of these in our early childhood, until we knew them off by heart, and could still recall his beautiful hymn on gratitude beginning: 

  When all Thy mercies, oh my God,
    My rising soul surveys,
  Transported with the view, I’m lost
    In wonder, love, and praise.

Some of his hymns, which were of more than ordinary merit, were said to have been inspired by his youthful surroundings.  Salisbury Plain, with its shepherds and their sheep, must have constantly appeared before him then, as they were immediately before us now, and would no doubt be in his mind when he wrote: