dly--"we needn't tell what we saw, or who we
saw."

'"You saw my husband," says Betty Privett, in a quiet way.

'"Well, since you put it so," says Nancy, hanging fire, "we--thought we
did see him; but it was darkish, and we was frightened, and of course it
might not have been he."

'"Nancy, you needn't mind letting it out, though 'tis kept back in
kindness. And he didn't come out of church again: I know it as well as
you."

'Nancy did not answer yes or no to that, and no more was said. But three
days after, William Privett was mowing with John Chiles in Mr. Hardcome's
meadow, and in the heat of the day they sat down to eat their bit o'
nunch under a tree, and empty their flagon. Afterwards both of 'em fell
asleep as they sat. John Chiles was the first to wake, and as he looked
towards his fellow-mower he saw one of those great white miller's-souls
as we call 'em--that is to say, a miller-moth--come from William's open
mouth while he slept, and fly straight away. John thought it odd enough,
as William had worked in a mill for several years when he was a boy. He
then looked at the sun, and found by the place o't that they had slept a
long while, and as William did not wake, John called to him and said it
was high time to begin work again. He took no notice, and then John went
up and shook him, and found he was dead.

'Now on that very day old Philip Hookhorn was down at Longpuddle Spring
dipping up a pitcher of water; and as he turned away, who should he see
coming down to the spring on the other side but William, looking very
pale and odd. This surprised Philip Hookhorn very much, for years before
that time William's little son--his only child--had been drowned in that
spring while at play there, and this had so preyed upon William's mind
that he'd never been seen near the spring afterwards, and had been known
to go half a mile out of his way to avoid the place. On inquiry, it was
found that William in body could not have stood by the spring, being in
the mead two miles off; and it also came out that the time at which he
was seen at the spring was the very time when he died.'

* * * * *

'A rather melancholy story,' observed the emigrant, after a minute's
silence.

'Yes, yes. Well, we must take ups and downs together,' said the
seedsman's father.

'You don't know, Mr. Lackland, I suppose, what a rum start that was
between Andrey Satchel and Jane Vallens and the pa'son and clerk o'
Scrimpton?' said t