es up to a grand high pitch;
and we did our best to keep them there. For nine Englishmen out of every
ten believe that a bitter winter must breed a sour summer, and explain
away topmost prices. While according to my experience, more often it
would be otherwise, except for the public thinking so. However, I have
said too much; and if any farmer reads my book, he will vow that I wrote
it for nothing else except to rob his family.

CHAPTER LXII

THE KING MUST NOT BE PRAYED FOR

[Illustration: 575.jpg Lynmouth]

All our neighbourhood was surprised that the Doones had not ere now
attacked, and probably made an end of us. For we lay almost at their
mercy now, having only Sergeant Bloxham, and three men, to protect us,
Captain Stickles having been ordered southwards with all his force;
except such as might be needful for collecting toll, and watching the
imports at Lynmouth, and thence to Porlock. The Sergeant, having now
imbibed a taste for writing reports (though his first great effort had
done him no good, and only offended Stickles), reported weekly from
Plover's Barrows, whenever he could find a messenger. And though we fed
not Sergeant Bloxham at our own table, with the best we had (as in the
case of Stickles, who represented His Majesty), yet we treated him so
well, that he reported very highly of us, as loyal and true-hearted
lieges, and most devoted to our lord the King. And indeed he could
scarcely have done less, when Lizzie wrote great part of his reports,
and furbished up the rest to such a pitch of lustre, that Lord Clarendon
himself need scarce have been ashamed of them. And though this cost a
great deal of ale, and even of strong waters (for Lizzie would have it
the duty of a critic to stand treat to the author), and though it was
otherwise a plague, as giving the maid such airs of patronage, and such
pretence to politics; yet there was no stopping it, without the risk
of mortal offence to both writer and reviewer. Our mother also, while
disapproving Lizzie's long stay in the saddle-room on a Friday night and
a Saturday, and insisting that Betty should be there, was nevertheless
as proud as need be, that the King should read our Eliza' s writings--at
least so the innocent soul believed--and we all looked forward to
something great as the fruit of all this history. And something great
did come of it, though not as we expected; for these reports, or as many
of them as were ever opened, stood us in good