cattle had sheltered themselves, the white snow lay deep elsewhere.
Not a vestige remains of the �Bear and Ragged Staff� hostel, the �Black
Bear� of Scott�s novel. It stood immediately fronting the Church, on the other
side of the road. The name of Lambourne appears in the list of
Cumnor�s inhabitants, though whether a descendant of roystering Mike the
deponent sayeth not. Also there is, I learn, a Farnel, Farney, or
Varney, for the name seems to have been spelt indifferently.
Rejoining Mr Franklin at the farm, we set off again, he as Road super
intendant speaking to the men delving at the snow. One, he told me, had
10 shillings per week, a family of five, and a wife. Hard times in England
for the poor. We dined at Tilbury farm, held by John Franklin, a decent
isolated sort of farm house, plenty of rabbits and hares footprints in the snow
approaching towards it. Returning, my companion having to make another
call, put me down and I walked for two miles or so, back to Swinford.
William Franklin was there on my return, also his sister.
13. Tuesday. Good bye to Eynsham & Swinford folks. Walked
along the road towards the former place, being presently taken up by the
coach. �Tilly� inside, and a very ugly man, who pulled up the window
strap as though it belonged to a Guillotine, and held on to it viciously
during the journey. Cheery, cold and sunny morning. Beautiful old
Oxford again. Tilly off to the Rogers, I to Levi Greatbatch�s for
ten minutes, then to issue forth for an hour or twain�s ramble about
the City. And a pleasant time it was. The stately and picturesque old
colleges gladdening in the sunshine, the pure fresh morning air, the deep
snow, glimpses of quiet quadrangles about which young men in academic
cap and gown passed conversing together; the broad noble road
leading Banbury-wards, with the exquisite Martyrs Memorial, in honor