"Nay, look'ee, Martin, life may be worth whiles now and then--aye, lad,
there be times, good times."

"What times?"

"Well, Martin, to lie snug 'neath hedge o' star-time, when your fire's
low an' the stars peep down through leaves at a man--wink, they go, and
wink, wink, till, watching 'em, a man forgets his troubles awhile and
knows something o' content. Aha, many's the time o' star-time they
have winked me and my troubles asleep. Then there's wakings o'
bird-time, wi' the sun up, dew a-sparkle and life calling within ye and
without, and the birds--O the birds, Martin--a-filling the world wi'
brave songs o' hope new-born like the day! Ah, many's the morn the
birds ha' waked me and I as merry as any grig--Lord love their beaks
and wings! There's hay-time o' the evening full o' soft, sweet
smells--aye, sweet as lad's first kiss; there's wheat-time at noon wi'
the ears a-rustle and the whitt-whitt o' scythe and whetstone; there's
night, Martin, and the long, black road dipping and a-winding, but wi'
the beam o' light beyond, lad--the good light as tells o' journey done,
of companionship and welcomes and belike--eyes o' love, with--"

"Lusty ale!" quoth Roger, setting three new-filled pipkins before us.
"And none better nor ourn--eh, wife?"

"That I do swear to, Roger!" laughed the peddler, "Choke me else! But
now, as to the sea, Martin pal--'tis a dog's life!"

"You know the sea, then?"

"Like my hand, Martin, and all along o' my father's godliness. A fine,
big man he was and devout as he was lusty. Having begot me his next
duty was to name me, and O pal, name me he did! A name as no raskell
lad might live up to, a name as brought me into such troublous faction
ashore that he packed me off to sea. And if you ax me what name 'twas,
I'll answer ye bold and true--'God-be-here Jenkins,' at your service,
though Godby for short and 'twixt friends."

Now the more I saw of this little peddler the better I liked him, so
that the hour was late when, having supped excellently well, I rose to
take my leave.

"If you must be away, young master," said the buxom Cicely, "don't 'ee
forget there be ever a welcome for 'ee at the Hop-pole--eh, Roger?"

"There is so!" nodded the landlord. "Likewise a pipkin of ale and a
bite and all gratus to a pal!"

"And look 'ee, Martin my cove," quoth the peddler, grasping my hand,
"there be ever and always the good high-road leading on and away to
better things, so happen ye shoul