[88] #Calico#: white cotton cloth called calico in England, to distinguish it from print. [89] #Smock frocks#: coarse white frocks worn by farm laborers. [90] #Yule-tide#: Christmas. Clubs are formed by the poor several months in advance, to furnish coal, clothes, and poultry for Christmas time,--each member contributing a few pence weekly. [91] #Mummers#: maskers, merrymakers in fantastic costumes. [92] #Vernacular#: one's native tongue. [93] #Ten-pound doctor#: a quack doctor. [94] #Mysteries#: rude dramatic plays of a religious character, once very popular. [95] #Lieges#: loyal subjects. THE OLD BOY ABUSETH MOVING ON. I have been credibly informed, and am inclined to believe, that the various Boards of Directors of Railway Companies, those gigantic jobbers[96] and bribers, while quarrelling about everything else, agreed together some ten years back to buy up the learned profession of medicine, body and soul. To this end they set apart several millions of money, which they continually distribute judiciously among the doctors, stipulating only this one thing, that they shall prescribe change of air to every patient who can pay, or borrow money to pay, a railway fare, and see their prescription carried out. If it be not for this, why is it that none of us can be well at home for a year together? It wasn't so twenty years ago,--not a bit of it. The Browns didn't go out of the county once in five years. A visit to Reading or Abingdon twice a year, at Assizes or Quarter Sessions[97] which the Squire made on his horse, with a pair of saddle-bags containing his wardrobe--a stay of a day or two at some country neighbor's--or an expedition to a county ball or the yeomanry review--[98] made up the sum of the Brown locomotion in most years. A stray Brown from some distant county dropped in every now and then; or from Oxford, on grave nag, an old don[99] contemporary of the Squire; and were looked upon by the Brown household and the villagers with the same sort of feeling with which we now regard a man who has crossed the Rocky Mountains, or launched a boat on the great lake in Central Africa. The White Horse Vale, remember, was traversed by no great road; nothing but country parish roads, and these very bad. Only one coach ran there, and this one only from Wantage to London, so that the western part of the vale was without regular means of moving on, and certainly didn't seem to want them. There was the canal, by the way, which supplied the country-side with coal, and up and down which continually went the long barges with the big black men lounging by the side of the horses along the towing-path, and the women in bright-colored handkerchiefs standing in the sterns steering. Standing, I say, but you could never see whether they were standing or sitting, all but their heads and shoulders being out of sight in the cozy little cabins which occupied some eight feet of the stern and