AN ENGLISHMAN’S HOLIDAY--ST. SWITHIN’S IN A CALM--THE MERCHANT’S AMBITION--“MON BEAU COUSIN”--CASTLES IN THE AIR--A LIVELY CRAFT--“HAIRBLOWER” AND HIS COLD BATH Much as we think of ourselves, and with all our boasted civilisation, we Anglo-Saxons are but a half-barbarian race after all. Nomadic, decidedly nomadic in our tastes, feelings, and pursuits, it is but the moisture of our climate that keeps us in our own houses at all, and like our Scandinavian ancestors (for in turf parlance we have several crosses of the old Norse blood in our veins), we delight periodically--that is, whenever we have a fortnight’s dry weather--to migrate from our dwellings, and peopling the whole of our own sea-…
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