contrast to the slumberous quiet of Falkingham, for it was the evening of the annual sheep fair, and groups of agriculturists were scattered about engaged in eager conversation, and flocks of sheep were being driven out of the town, with much shouting, dog-barking, and commotion, and farmers in gigs or on horseback starting back home added to the general restlessness. Indeed, after the deep tranquillity of the lonely country roads we had traversed that day, Sleaford seemed a place of noise and bustle. Next morning, however, we found the streets quiet enough, as we remarked to a stranger in the stable-yard. "Yes," he said, "Sleaford is quiet enough. It sleeps more or less all the year, but wakes up once for the annual fair. You mayn't have heard the saying, 'Sleaford for sleep, Boston for business, Horncastle for horses, Louth for learning.'" "Perhaps," responded we, mindful of yesterday, "as it is Horncastle for horses, it should be Sleaford for sheep, not 'sleep.'" The two words sound very much alike. But our suggestion was scorned.
Rambling about the town we noted the date of 1568 on a gable of the half-timbered and creeper-*clad vicarage, that stood divided by a footpath from the church. A noble structure the latter, with a most effectively picturesque front owing to the fact that the aisles are lengthened so as to be in level line with the tower; the pierced parapet extending across this long front is adorned with bell-turrets, pinnacles, and minarets, forming a varied outline against the sky. Whilst we were taking a pencil
