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“One day,” the registrar continued, “Georgy was ambling out of Melchester on a miserable screw, the fair being just over, when he saw in front of him a fine-looking young farmer riding out of the town in the same direction. He was mounted on a good, atrong, handsome animal, worth fifty guiness if worth a crown. When they were going up Bissett Hill, Georgy made it his business to overtake the young farmer, They passed the time o’ day to one another ; Georgy spoke of the state of the roads, and jogged alongside the well-mounted stranger in very friendly conversation. The farmer had not been inclined to say much to Georgy at first, but by degrees he grew quite affable, too—as friendly as Georgy was towards him. He teld Crookhill that he had been doing business at Melchester fair, and was going on as far as Shottaford-Forum that night, so as to reach Casterbridge market the nextday. When they came to Woodyates Inn they stopped to bait their horses, and agreed to drink together ; with this they got more friendly than ever, and on they went again. Before they had nearly reached Shottsford it came on to rain, and as they were now passing through the village of Trantridge, and it was quite dark, Georgy persuaded the young farmer to go no farther that night; the rain would most likely give them a chill. For his part be had heard that the little inn here was comfortable, and he meant to stay. At last the young