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classes of society, which is ever struggling to find vent. Not a lady goes to France, who thinks it a crime to bring back a little lace, duty-free, although she might purchase it cheaper in England; and many a gentleman, who would not willingly wrong an individual of a penny piece, considers it a good joke to drive through a toll-gate without paying, although the next day he dines with his friend, a Trustee of the Trust. As to poaching—if killing a hare on a common, or any place open to the public, without trespassing on strictly private grounds, be a crime, we believe there are few young men in the country free from it. It is what we have done in our younger days, nor has it ever yet weighed a moment upon our conscience; and we still be lieve we have as much right to kill, cook, and eat the animals which run wild through the country, and are to be met with on moors and commons, and roads by wood-sides, as the oldest peer of the realm. If any one complains, it ought to be the farmer, whose crops they destroy; nor would we take a blow quietly from any liveried game-keeper, if we were not trespassing; for there is just enough of the old Saxon blood in us, to break, if we could, the head of the menial who would break our own for such a deed. These murders between poachers and gamekeepers, are the last relics of the old Forest Laws, and are a disgrace to England. Pity it is that the poor paid slaves only suffer. It is a damnable act! and has been the means of bringing many a worthy family to the poor-house, while the husband has been wasting his time in prison, not even committed for hard labour a few years ago.

Some of these toll-bars are primitive enough; and we remember once seeing one which consisted of two posts and a rope thrown across the road; a great loutish-looking country

lad was placed there to take the toll, and the following con versation took place between us :—

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'Why, this is a new toll; is n't it, Jack? How long has it been here?"

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Nobbert (only) a fortneat, zur."

"A fortnight, eh! Why, I was past a week ago, and there was a chain across the road then. What's got it?" "Doant noah, zur; zomebody thieved it while I wur asleep, for when I wackened, it wur goan!"

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A pretty toll-taker you are, to let them run off with your chain. Have you many customers?”

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Noah, zur; they goa round abouten, and thruff yon farm-yard. I tuck but tuppence yesterday, an ged the mon fourpence, an it wur a bad sixpence. He ceam a a-porpose to dew me: he wur a butcher thief.”

The next time we passed, Jack and his rope had vanished; so that, what with the country people avoiding the road, stealing his chain, and giving him bad money, we fancy that his employers were glad enough to leave the road free.

I remember, when very young, going with a butcherboy, one Sunday in summer, to fetch a calf from a neighbouring village. There was a toll-gate There was a toll-gate on the road, at which we were to pay either a penny or three-halfpence, when we came back with our charge. To spend the money and avoid the gate, were two objects we were resolved to accomplish; so the money went first, as a proof that we were in earnest. There was a footpath over the fields and marshes, a much nearer road to the village than through the toll-gate and along the common highway, and we consoled ourselves that where there was a road wide enough for us, there would be room enough for the calf; but then

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there were stiles,-how was it to be got over these? we should find a gap somewhere in the hedge big enough to drive it through. Then there were those narrow planks across the dykes in the marshes; it would never walk over those without falling in. Oh, we could lead it down the banks, and it would jump across-calves were always good jumpers; besides, we had spent the money, so it must be made to jump.

we used all our

My companion kind of halter,

We managed very well over the fields, and the calf trotted willingly enough along the soft, green grass; and, through breaking open a gate or two, and making a gap now and then in the hedges, which would cost the farmer two or three shillings to repair, we reached the first dyke without much difficulty. The calf went down the bank, looked at the water, and refused to move; strength to force it across, but all in vain. had a rope in his pocket; so he made a which we fastened round the calf's head. He jumped over the dyke; it was a good jump for a boy; if he pulled and I shoved, go across it must. It was Sunday in summer, and, in addition to a little blue jacket, I had on white trowsers and a white waistcoat, all clean that very morning. What matter; I shoved like a young Samson, the butcherboy pulled, and over bounded the calf, when we least expected it, light as a bird. Into the dyke I went, head over ears, and, as the mud was about a foot deep at the bottom, I came out again with a good thick coat of it over me. Nor was this the worst of it; for as we were at no great distance from the toll-gate, the keeper had watched us behind the bank; and the first thing I saw, when the mud was rubbed out of my eyes, was the toll-man, with his hands on his sides, laughing fit to kill himself, and exclaiming, when

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ever he could get a word out between each merry peal, Hang it, lad, you cleared the gate better than the dyke.” I returned home with "a very ancient and fish-like smell.” How beautifully situated are many of the toll-gates in the neighbourhood where this boyish adventure occurred,— overlooking, as they do, miles of meadow-land, amid which the snug farmhouses nestle, with their crofts, and orchards, and gardens, and rick-yards! And ever along the road are little bits of moving pastoral life,-a shepherd lad, driving his sheep to the next market to sell; a rosy-cheeked milkmaid, fetching up her cows, which every now and then pause to low through some gate, or bite off a tender shoot from the hedges; the farmer-man, sitting sideways on one of his horses, returning from his field-work, the whip resting upon his shoulder, and the measured music of the rattling harness joined with his own voice, as he trolls forth some rustic ditty about

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Cherry-cheeked Patty, she lives in the vale,

Whom I helped o'er the stile with her milking-pail;
And she blushed, as I made her promise and vow,
Next Sunday to meet at the Barley-mow."

Before some of these toll-houses roses are tastefully trained, and a tree or two is planted, whose boughs meet above the roof, forming a most picturesque approach from the road, and causing us to half envy the occupier of such a sweet rustic spot. Here, too, as with the old ferryman, almost everybody who passes is a neighbour, though they live four or five miles away. They greet each other by their Christian names : "It is a fine morning, John;" or, "Good morning, William; "-for, saving the 'squire, the parson, the doctor, or the lawyer, "Sir" is but rarely used: should it be a very wealthy farmer, perhaps the compliment may

be returned with a "Good morning, Mr. Langley," or whatever the surname may be. They inquire after each other's health, and the welfare of one another's families, in a manner which shows that they take an interest in their neighbours; very different to the common every day courtesy with which we see hurrying business-men salute each other in a busy city.

We have often been amused by watching the efforts that stray cattle make to pass through a toll-gate; they will linger about the spot for hours, and attempt to rush by every time the gate is opened; and we have, in many instances, seen them break through the hedges, make a circle round the fields, and come out again a long way above the bar. When once they have strayed from their pastures, they seem to have a great wish to go on straight a-head, and will sometimes traverse the whole length of the county.

There are several toll-gates which stand in beautiful and picturesque situations in the neighbourhood of London, on the Surrey side; one a little beyond Dulwich, which we have alluded to in our "Summer Ramble," and another before we reach Beckenham, about a mile beyond the wild corner of Penge Common. Such places seem like company on a lonely road; we measure the distance by them, where there are no mile-stones. If thirsty, too, we can sometimes obtain a bottle of ginger-beer, an apple, or a biscuit,-the latter of which is often very trying to the teeth, as they only have them fresh once a-week, and, perhaps, even then have one or two left. In and around London we have often watched the huckster "do" the gate-keeper. One has passed through in his cart, paid, and obtained the number. What's the figure to-day?" halloos out some well-known associate, who has no doubt often obliged the party inquired of in the

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