ng round his neck, and his two
hands tied behind him. Of course every time he moves, the bell must
ring, as he has no hand to hold it, and so the dozen blindfolded men
have to catch him. This they cannot always manage if he is a lively
fellow, but half of them always rush into the arms of the other half, or
drive their heads together, or tumble over; and then the crowd laughs
vehemently, and invents nicknames for them on the spur of the moment,
and they, if they be choleric, tear off the handkerchiefs which blind
them, and not unfrequently pitch into one another, each thinking that
the other must have run against him on purpose. It is great fun to look
at a jingling-match certainly, and Tom shouts, and jumps on old Benjy's
shoulders at the sight, until the old man feels weary, and shifts him to
the strong young shoulders of the groom, who has just got down to the
fun.

And now, while they are climbing the pole in another part of the field,
and muzzling in a flour-tub in another, the old farmer whose house, as
has been said, overlooks the field, and who is master of the revels,
gets up the steps on to the stage, and announces to all whom it may
concern that a half-sovereign in money will be forthcoming for the old
gamester who breaks most heads; to which the Squire and he have added a
new hat.

The amount of the prize is sufficient to stimulate the men of the
immediate neighbourhood, but not enough to bring any very high talent
from a distance; so after a glance or two round, a tall fellow, who is a
down shepherd, chucks his hat on to the stage and climbs up the steps
looking rather sheepish. The crowd of course first cheer, and then chaff
as usual, as he picks up his hat and begins handling the sticks to see
which will suit him.

"Wooy, Willum Smith, thee cans't plaay wi' he arra daay," says his
companion to the blacksmith's apprentice, a stout young fellow of
nineteen or twenty. Willum's sweetheart is in the "veast" somewhere, and
has strictly enjoined him not to get his head broke at back-swording, on
pain of her highest displeasure; but as she is not to be seen, (the
women pretend not to like to see the back-sword play, and keep away from
the stage,) and as his hat is decidedly getting old, he chucks it on to
the stage, and follows himself, hoping that he will only have to break
other people's heads, or that after all Rachel won't really mind.

Then follows the greasy cap lined with fur of a half-gipsy, poaching,