A WELL-FED boy, with yellow Saxon hair; a little shabby green chaise; and a rough brownpony-these objects confronted me at the Lewes Station. I said to the boy, "Are you ReverendFinch's servant?" And the boy answered, "I be he."We drove through the town-a hilly town of desolate clean houses. No living creatures visiblebehind the jealously-shut windows. No living creatures entering or departing through the sadcolored closed doors. No theater; no place of amusement except an empty town-hall, with a sadpoliceman meditating on its spruce white steps. No customers in the shops, and nobody to servethem behind the counter, even if they had turned up. Here and there on the pavements, aninhabitant with a capacity for staring, and (apparently) a capacity for nothing else. I said to ReverendFinch's boy, "Is this a rich place?" Reverend Finch's boy brightened and answered, "That it be!"Good. At any rate, they don't enjoy themselves here-the infamous rich!Leaving this town of unamused citizens immured in domestic tombs, we got on a fine highroad-still ascending-with a spacious open country on either side of it.A spacious open country is a country soon exhausted by a sight-seer's eye. I have learnt from mypoor Pratolungo the habit of searching for the political convictions of my fellow-creatures, when Ifind myself in contact with them in strange places. Having nothing else to do, I searched Finch'sboy. His political programme, I found to be: -As much meat and beer as I can contain; and as littlework to do for it as possible. In return for this, to touch my hat when I meet the Squire, and to becontent with the station to which it has pleased God to call me. Miserable Finch's boy!We reached the highest point of the road. On our right hand, the ground sloped away gentlyinto a fertile valley-with a village and a church in it; and beyond, an abominable privilegedenclosure of grass and trees torn from the community by a tyrant, and called a Park; with the palacein which this enemy of mankind caroused and fattened, standing in the midst. On our left hand, spread the open country-a magnificent prospect of grand grassy hills, rolling away to the horizon;bounded only by the sky. To my surprise, Finch's boy descended; took the pony by the head; anddeliberately led him off the high road, and on to the wilderness of grassy hills, on which not somuch as a footpath was discernible anywhere, far or near. The chaise began to heave and roll like aship on the sea. It became necessary to hold with both hands to keep my place. I thought first of myluggage-then of mysel