It was midsummer when we arrived at this place, and the weather, which had for a long time been wet and gloomy, now became bright and glorious; I was subjected to but little control, and passed my time pleasantly enough, principally in wandering about the neighbouring country.  It was flat and somewhat fenny, a district more of pasture than agriculture, and not very thickly inhabited.  I soon became well acquainted with it.  At the distance of two miles from the station was a large lake, styled in the dialect of the country ‘a mere,’ about whose borders tall reeds were growing in abundance, this was a frequent haunt of mine; but my favourite place of resort was a wild sequestered spot at a somewhat greater distance.  Here, surrounded with woods and thick groves, was the seat of some ancient family, deserted by the proprietor, and only inhabited by a rustic servant or two.  A place more solitary and wild could scarcely be imagined; the garden and walks were overgrown with weeds and briers, and the unpruned woods were so tangled as to be almost impervious.  About this domain I would wander till overtaken by fatigue, and then I would sit down with my back against some beech, elm, or stately alder tree, and, taking out my book, would pass hours in a state of unmixed enjoyment, my eyes now fixed on the wondrous pages, now glancing at the sylvan scene around; and sometimes I would drop the book and listen to the voice of the rooks and wild pigeons, and not unfrequently to the croaking of multitudes of frogs from the neighbouring swamps and fens.

{picture:I frequently passed a tall elderly individual, dressed in rather a quaint fashion:  page31.jpg}

In going to and from this place I frequently passed a tall elderly individual, dressed in rather a quaint fashion, with a skin cap on his head and stout gaiters on his legs; on his shoulders hung a moderate sized leathern sack; he seemed fond of loitering near sunny banks, and of groping amidst furze and low scrubby bramble bushes, of which there were plenty in the neighbourhood of Norman Cross.  Once I saw him standing in the middle of a dusty road, looking intently at a large mark which seemed to have been drawn across it, as if by a walking stick.  ’He must have been a large one,’ the old man muttered half to himself, ’or he would not have left such a trail, I wonder if he is near; he seems to have moved this way.’  He then went behind some bushes which grew on the right side of the road, and appeared to be in quest of something, moving behind the bushes with his head downwards, and occasionally striking their roots with his foot:  at length he exclaimed, ‘Here he is!’ and forthwith I saw him dart amongst the bushes.  There was a kind of scuffling noise, the rustling of branches, and the crackling of dry sticks.  ‘I have him!’ said the man at last; ‘I have got him!’ and presently he made his appearance about twenty yards down the road, holding a large viper in his hand.  ‘What do you think of that,