He
passed, and then I met a man much more of my own kind, if not
probably so little informed. That rich, chill gale was still
tossing and buffeting the tree tops, and he made occasion of this
to say, "This is a cold wynd a-blowin', Mister." "It is, rather,"
I assented. "I was think-in'," he observed from an apparent
generalization, "that I wished I was at home." Then he suddenly
added, "Help a poor man!" I was not wholly surprised at the
climax, and I offered him, provisionally, a penny. "Will that
do?" He hesitated perceptibly; then he allowed, with a subtle
reluctance, "Yes, that'll do," and so passed on to satisfy, I
hope, the wish he thought he had.
[Illustration: DURHAM CATHEDRAL--ITS MATCHLESS SEAT ON THE BLUFFS
OF THE RIVER]
I pursued my own course, as far as the bridge which spans the
Weare near a most picturesque mill, and then I stopped a kindly-
looking workman and asked him whether he thought I could find a
fly or cab anywhere near that would take me into the town. He
answered, briefly but consistently with his looks, "Ah doot," and
as he owned that it was a long way to town, I let his doubt
decide me to go back to the station.
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