he cars and the stricter rule of the road. He belonged to the days when the highway to Witham saw a leisurely procession of farmers' shandrydans, peat-carts, and carriers' carts with curved hoods; with here and there a country gentleman's pair of steppers flashing their way through. He never took to the cars with their raucous voices and trains of dust, their sudden gusts of passage which sent his heart into his mouth. His slack-reined driving forced him to keep to the crown of the road, and only an always forthcoming miracle got him out of the way in time. He used to shrink a little when the cars drew level, and the occupants turned their curious heads.