nd can go down
chimneys, and through keyholes, upstairs, downstairs, in my lady's
chamber, examining all little boys, and the little boys' tutors
likewise. But when he is thrashed--so Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid has promised
me--I shall have the thrashing of him: and if I don't lay it on with a
will it's a pity."

Tom went off: but rather slowly and surlily; for he was somewhat minded
to face this same Examiner-of-all-Examiners, who came striding among the
poor turnips, binding heavy burdens and grievous to be borne, and laying
them on little children's shoulders, like the Scribes and Pharisees of
old, and not touching the same with one of his fingers; for he had
plenty of money, and a fine house to live in, and so forth; which was
more than the poor little turnips had.

But when he got near, he looked so big and burly and dictatorial, and
shouted so loud to Tom, to come and be examined, that Tom ran for his
life, and the dog too. And really it was time; for the poor turnips, in
their hurry and fright, crammed themselves so fast to be ready for the
Examiner, that they burst and popped by dozens all round him, till the
place sounded like Aldershot on a field-day, and Tom thought he should
be blown into the air, dog and all.

As he went down to the shore he passed the poor turnip's new tomb. But
Mrs. Bedonebyasyoudid had taken away the epitaph about talents and
precocity and development, and put up one of her own instead which Tom
thought much more sensible:--

"_Instruction sore long time I bore,
And cramming was in vain;
Till heaven did please my woes to ease
With water on the brain._"

So Tom jumped into the sea, and swam on his way, singing:--

"_Farewell, Tomtoddies all; I thank my stars
That nought I know save those three royal r's:
Reading and riting sure, with rithmetick,
Will help a lad of sense through thin and thick._"

Whereby you may see that Tom was no poet: but no more was John Bunyan,
though he was as wise a man as you will meet in a month of Sundays.

And next he came to Oldwivesfabledom, where the folks were all heathens,
and worshipped a howling ape.

And there he found a little boy sitting in the middle of the road, and
crying bitterly.

"What are you crying for?" said Tom.

"Because I am not as frightened as I could wish to be."

"Not frightened? You are a queer little chap: but, if you want to be