eleven o'clock
`` I make you a present of it , as you are so hard up '' . Now Hogarth , by tilting the barrow , with strong effort of four limbs , got the meteorite lodged , while Frankl , his smile lifting the wrinkles above his thick moustache , watched the strain : then , with arms behind , went his contemplative way . Hogarth rolled the barrow toward Thring . It was already eleven o'clock , the sun shining in a bright sky , under which the country round the Waveney lay broad to the hills of mist which seemed to encompass the valley ; yet , when one came to them no hills were there , but were still beyond . When Hogarth came out from the wood upon a footbridge , to his right a hand-sower was sowing broadcast , with a two-handed rhythm , taking seed , as he strode , from his scrip ; and to the left ran a path between fields to an eminence with a little church on it ; straight northward some Thring houses visible , and north-east , near the river , Lagden Dip orchard . Only two stooping women in fields near Thring could Hogarth see ; also , still further , a gig-and-horse whose remote motion was imperceptible ; also the trudging two-handed process of the sower nourishing the furrows . But for these , England , supposed to be `` overcrowded '' , seemed a land once inhabited , but abandoned .