n eyesore to me; so I saddled my
hobby, and rode at it. O ho! you know what I mean now! Yes, but
neighbors, you need not have taken it so to heart. That was a scurvy
trick of some of you to hang me in effigy, as they call it."

"It warn't you," cried a voice in the crowd, "it war Nick Stirn."

The Squire recognized the voice of the tinker; but though he now guessed
at the ringleader,--on that day of general amnesty, he had the prudence
and magnanimity not to say, "Stand forth, Sprott: thou art the man." Yet
his gallant English spirit would not suffer him to come off at the
expense of his servant.

"If it was Nick Stirn you meant," said he gravely, "more shame for you.
It showed some pluck to hang the master; but to hang the poor servant,
who only thought to do his duty, careless of what ill-will it brought
upon him, was a shabby trick--so little like the lads of Hazeldean, that
I suspect the man who taught it to them was never born in the parish.
But let bygones be bygones. One thing is clear, you don't take kindly to
my new pair of stocks! They have been a stumbling-block and a grievance,
and there's no denying that we went on very pleasantly without them. I
may also say that in spite of them we have been coming together again
lately. And I can't tell you what good it did me to see your children
playing again on the green, and your honest faces, in spite of the
stocks, and those diabolical tracts you've been reading lately, lighted
up at the thought that something pleasant was going on at the Hall. Do
you know, neighbors, you put me in mind of an old story which, besides
applying to the Parish, all who are married, and all who intend to
marry, will do well to recollect. A worthy couple, named John and Joan,
had lived happily together many a long year, till one unlucky day they
bought a new bolster. Joan said the bolster was too hard, and John that
it was too soft. So, of course, they quarrelled. After sulking all day,
they agreed to put the bolster between them at night." (Roars of
laughter amongst the men; the women did not know which way to look,
except, indeed, Mrs. Hazeldean, who, though she was more than usually
rosy, maintained her innocent genial smile, as much as to say, "There is
no harm in the Squire's jests.") The orator resumed--"After they had
thus lain apart for a little time, very silent and sullen, John sneezed.
'God bless you!' says Joan over the bolster. 'Did you say God bless me?'
cries John;--'the