Bishop of Norwich.’ In only one respect the Yarmouth of to-day resembles that of Camden’s time. Then the north wind played the tyrant and plagued the coast, and it does so still. CHAPTER VII. THE NORFOLK CAPITAL. Brigg’s Lane—The carrier’s cart—Reform demonstration—The old dragon—Chairing M.P.’s—Hornbutton Jack—Norwich artists and literati—Quakers and Nonconformists. Many, many years ago, when wandering in the North of Germany, I came to an hotel in the Fremden Buch, of which (Englishmen at that time were far more patriotic and less cosmopolitan than in these degenerate days) an enthusiastic Englishman had written—and possibly the writing had been suggested by the hard fare and dirty ways of the place: ‘England, with all thy faults, I love thee still.’ Underneath, a still more enthusiastic Englishman had written: ‘Faults? What faults? I know of none, except that Brigg’s Lane, Norwich, wants widening.’ For the benefit of the reader who may be a stranger to the locality, let me inform him that Brigg’s Lane leads out of the fine Market Place, for which the good old city of Norwich is celebrated all the world over, and that on a recent visit to Norwich I found that the one fault which could be laid at the door of England had been removed—that Brigg’s Lane had been widened—that, in fact, it had ceased to be a lane, and had been elevated into the dignity of a street. My first acquaintance with Norwich, when I was a lad of tender years and of limited experience, was by Brigg’s Lane. I had reached it by means of a carrier’s cart—the only mode of conveyance between Southwold, Wrentham, Beccles and Norwich—a carrier’s cart with a hood drawn by three noble horses, and able to accommodate almost any number of travellers and any amount of luggage. As the driver was well known to everyone, there was also a good deal of conversation of a more or less friendly character. The cart took one day to reach Norwich—which was, and it may be is, the commercial emporium of all that district—and another day to return. The beauty of such a conveyance, as compared with the railway travelling of to-day, was that there was no occasion to be in a flurry if you wanted to travel by it. Goldsmith—for such was the proprietor and driver’s name—when he came to a place was in no hurry to leave it. All the tradesmen in the village had hampers or boxes to return, and it took some time to collect them; or messages and notes to send, and it took some time to write them; and at the alehouse there was always a little gossip to be done while the horses enjoyed their pail of water or mouthful of hay. Even at the worst there was no fear of being left behind, as by dint of running and holloaing you might get up with the cart, unless you were very much behind indeed. But you may be sure that when the day came that I was to visit the great city of Norwich I was ready for the carrier’s cart long before the carrier’s cart was ready for me. Why was