He made a long stay in the last-named place; he met there a young man who was a “nigger delineator,” as they term themselves in the advertisements in a certain theatrical paper. Peace found in this person a congenial spirit, and they took a commodious room in the town and gave “nigger” entertainments three nights in the week――namely, Saturdays, Mondays, and Wednesdays. The two first were the most profitable, the working class being usually more flush of money. Peace and his brother artist were tolerably successful, playing on most occasions to a small profit. They would in all probability have continued these performances had they not been brought to a close by Peace’s companion signing articles of engagement with a troupe who visited the town on a provincial tour. Peace, therefore, left and proceeded to the next town with his wares. In some of the places he visited he was tolerably successful. He sold many prints and photos, and realised a fair profit. Sometimes he put up at a roadside inn, while at others he took lodgings in a quiet, respectable cottage for a few days. At this time his life could not be considered in any way disreputable――he was sober and industrious. It is true that during his peregrinations he was in no way particular about disposing of prints and photos of a contraband nature, but he used a great amount of discretion in his dealing in goods of this description. It was towards the close of a bright autumnal day that he arrived wearied and footsore in sight of a roadside inn, which stood half-way between two villages in Yorkshire. The sign of this wayside inn was the “Old Carved Lion.” Over the facia of the establishment was a wooden effigy of the king of beasts. Who carved this hideous animal it is not possible to say――it was about on a par with others one sees in houses of public entertainment in the metropolis and elsewhere. About thirty yards off the “Old Carved Lion” stood a handpost, with its four white arms pointing down the four cross roads. Some few years before there had been only one handpost within four miles of this spot, and that so defaced and overgrown with moss that it was impossible to decipher a letter. But fortunately, a nobleman who lived in the neighbourhood happened to lose his way among the dark woods which encircled it, and did not arrive home till his soup was ice, his fish rags, and his sirloin of beef a cinder. An order was consequently passed by the bench that handposts should be erected in all the parishes under their surveillance at every cross road and turning――the expenses to be defrayed by the funds of the respective parishes. In rural districts, before any improvements are permitted to be made or nuisances removed, a human being must die or a person of note be inconvenienced. In the days of the defaced handpost, before railways were in vogue, the “Old Carved Lion” had been a large coaching hotel, furnished with an unbounded amount of accommodation for man and beast.