A SNAIL’S RACE. 203

Every now and then a country cart would pass along the
wide road; or a ploughman would go whistling by, leading his
horses; or some market woman with her large basket would
make her way to the country town near by.

They stepped along, some slowly, some quickly ;—it was
a warm day for walking, but the rain had laid the dust. Some
of the passers-by preferred the smooth strip of roadside ‘turf

 

to the harder beaten track, and among these was an old woman
who could be seen at some distance off in her white sun-bonnet,
toiling slowly along. It was old Betty Ball; she was very
feeble, and was obliged to make the best of her way with a
crutch, for she was lame as well as weak. She was going out
to buy herself a loaf of bread and some other things, so she
carried a big basket on the arm that was not moving the crutch;
—she lived in a lonely cottage, near nothing but the church,