I inquired about the few inhabitants of the village, and ascertained that the oldest man in the place is the sexton, native-born, and supposed by mine host never to have travelled twenty miles from his birthplace.

His name is Peter Drabbles.

What extraordinary names that class of people contrive to have! My first business to-morrow morning will be to find my friend Drabbles--another ancient mariner, no doubt--and to examine the parish registers.
_Oct.7th_.A misty morning, and a perpetual drizzle--to say nothing of a damp, penetrating cold, which creeps through the thickest overcoat, and chills one to the bone.

I do not think Spotswold can have much brightness or prettiness even on the fairest summer morning that ever beautified the earth.

I know that, seen as I see it to-day, the place is the very archetype of all that is darksome, dull, desolate, dismal, and dreary.