at quarter sessions. I was
thinking what a fine thing it must be to be a recorder of the peace,
when, lifting up my eyes, I saw right opposite, not a culprit at the bar,
but, staring at me through a gap in the bush, a face wild and strange,
half covered with grey hair; I only saw it a moment, the next it had
disappeared.
CHAPTER LXXI
Friend of Slingsby--All Quiet--Danger--The Two Cakes--Children in the
Wood--Don't be Angry--In Deep Thought--Temples Throbbing--Deadly
Sick--Another Blow--No Answer--How Old are You?--Play and Sacrament--Heavy
Heart--Song of Poison--Drow of Gypsies--The Dog--Ely's Church--Get up,
Bebee--The Vehicle--Can You Speak?--The Oil.
The next day, at an early hour, I harnessed my little pony, and, putting
my things in my cart, I went on my projected stroll. Crossing the moor,
I arrived in about an hour at a small village, from which, after a short
stay, I proceeded to another, and from thence to a third. I found that
the name of Slingsby was well known in these parts.
"If you are a friend of Slingsby you must be an honest lad," said an
ancient crone; "you shall never want for work whilst I can give it you.
Here, take my kettle, the bottom came out this morning, and lend me that
of yours till you bring it back. I'm not afraid to trust you--not I.
Don't hurry yourself, young man; if you don't come back for a fortnight I
shan't have the worse opinion of you."
I returned to my quarters at evening, tired, but rejoiced at heart; I had
work before me for several days, having collected various kekaubies which
required mending, in place of those which I left behind--those which I
had been employed upon during the last few days. I found all quiet in
the lane or glade, and, unharnessing my little horse, I once more pitched
my tent in the old spot beneath the ash, lighted my fire, ate my frugal
meal, and then, after looking for some time at the heavenly bodies, and
more particularly at the star Jupiter, I entered my tent, lay down upon
my pallet, and went to sleep.
Nothing occurred on the following day which requires any particular
notice, nor indeed on the one succeeding that. It was about noon on the
third day that I sat beneath the shade of the ash tree; I was not at
work, for the weather was particularly hot, and I felt but little
inclination to make any exertion. Leaning my back against the tree, I
was not long in falling into a slumber; I particularly remember that
slumber of m
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