I needed scarcely have asked the question. My farmer, though not of any great height, was as broad and muscular as an old Roman gladiator, and he swung the trunk into the back of the waggon as easily as if it had been a lady's handbox. He was in every respect a fine type of the men of that region. His face was dark, and ruggedly moulded, and the deep lines which traversed it gave it an expression of sternness, which the gruffness of his tones in speaking seemed to confirm. His grizzled black hair was cropped short round the lower part of his head; the crown--as I noticed when he took off his hat to wipe his forehead--was bald; and he wore a great shaggy beard like a prophet. But the remarkable features of his face were his eyes, which were large and dark, and had the steady, distant look in them that is often observable in the eyes of seafaring men. They seemed to have beheld sights beyond ordinary human ken. 'I suppose you know Mr. Norman?' I said to my companion as we drove away. 'Yes; I have charge of his garden.' 'He sees very little of the world, I believe?' 'There are more worlds than one, young man.' As I did not know exactly what to make of this reply, I was silent, and gave my attention to the country through which we were passing. It was fertile, and rich in verdure, but the houses were very scarce. The road we were travelling wound considerably, but constantly ascended, and bade fair to land us at last on the summit of a commanding eminence. The prospect constantly widened around us as we proceeded, and its beauty, as it reposed in the mellow splendour of the afternoon sunshine, so wrought upon me that at length I let slip some exclamation of delight. 'Can a Cockney care for this?' demanded the farmer, fixing his eyes upon me for a moment. 'I'm not infatuated with London,' I answered, laughing. 'I've travelled farther away from it than this, before now.' 'Ay, London's not the world, young man, and the world is not the universe,' rejoined my companion, whom I now began to recognise as a 'character.' After a pause, he added, 'Have you seen the Alps?' 'More than once.' 'What did they make you feel?' 'I think their loneliness and silence impressed me most. I felt that they were very mighty, and I very little.' For what reason I could not imagine, this answer appeared to please the dark-browed farmer. He nodded his head once or twice, and murmured in a deep, inward voice 'Ay--right--right! But there are mountains wilder, and mightier, and lonelier than they.' 'You are a traveller yourself, then?' I exclaimed, surveying him with a new interest 'You have been a sailor, perhaps?' 'I have sailed a wide ocean and a deep one; and I have seen distant lands; yet I have never set foot off the shore of England,' was the reply.