Right over against us, on the side of a gentle slope, stood a bright little village, with a red-roofed church rising up from amidst a clump of trees.

To our eyes, after the dull sward of the plain, it was a glad sight to see the green spread of the branches and the pleasant gardens which girt the hamlet round.

All morning we had seen no sight of a human being, save the old hag upon the moor and a few peat-cutters in the distance.

Our belts, too, were beginning to be loose upon us, and the remembrance of our breakfast more faint.
'This,' said I, 'must be the village of Mere, which we were to pass before coming to Bruton.

We shall soon be over the Somersetshire border.' 'I trust that we shall soon be over a dish of beefsteaks,' groaned Reuben.