You cannot depend on the working as in Cornwall, for
they are without regular lodes. A rich "pocket" occurs here and there,
but then is lost, the deposit not holding on to any depth.
We made a considerable round, and returned with appetites very sharp
set, and counted on the chicken with _paprika_ that we had ordered to be
ready for us. On arriving at the little inn, great was our disgust to
find it utterly silent and deserted; neither man, woman, nor child was
to be found in or about the place. With some difficulty we caught some
children, who were peering at us behind the wall of a neighbour's house,
and from these blubbering little animals, who I believe thought we were
going to make mince meat of them, we at length extracted the fact that
the people of the inn were gone off haymaking. This was really too bad,
for if they had only told us, we could have made our arrangements
accordingly, but here we were starving and not the remotest prospect of
supper. There was no use wasting unparliamentary language, so I began
foraging in all directions, while H---- busied himself in cutting up
wood to make a fire, a process not too easy with an uncommonly blunt
axe. My researches into the interior of the dwelling were not
encouraging; the fowl was not there, neither was the _paprika_. At
length I discovered some eggs and a chunk of stale bread stowed away in
a corner; there were a great many things in that corner, but "they were
not of my search"--ignorance is bliss.
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