_As You Like It._ On a dreary day in October I had to visit one of the remote villages high up in the moorland district. The wind howled, and the rain beat down pitilessly, as my Welsh-car jolted me, and swayed me to Llangastanau[6] Rectory, where I had been invited to spend the night. I was by no means sure of comfortable quarters, for I had never seen my host: his invitation came through my chief. But the alternative course, a long drive in the early morning to the parish school, was still less attractive, and I made up my mind to take college port, or butter-milk, as the case might be. When the car turned off the bleak road into a sheltered drive leading up to a solid-looking house, with gleams of light in the windows, and smoke issuing from several chimneys, my spirits rose: and when I saw the neat-handed Phyllis at the door, and behind her a scholarly, yet sociable face beaming over a well-lined waistcoat, I felt that I was in for a good thing: the lot had fallen unto me in a fair ground. There was no Mrs. Rector--there is much to be said for celibacy of the clergy--and we made our way to a library with a bright leaping fire of logs, and the most admirable furniture that a library can have, two arm chairs, a long table, and three walls lined with books. As for seats other than the arm chairs, one remembers the remark of--was it not the visitor to Charles Lamb?--“all the seats were booked.” On each chair was a pile of volumes taken down from the shelves, and not replaced: so free and careless is the celibate life. But Phyllis Jones eyed them scornfully as she passed, and during dinner they were all “put back” where Phyllis thought they would fit in. Even the celibate life is not all free. My bedroom was equally enticing. Is it wicked to enjoy hearing the wind moan, and the rain beat against the windows, when you have a good fire burning in the grate, and there are Red Curtains to the windows, reflecting the glow? I never see red curtains without thinking of that wild night. Before leaving me to dress, my host informed me of Rule 1 of the house: “Smoking is allowed in every room in the house, except the drawing-room;” and I had a delicious pipe and a snooze before dinner.