maiden at Waddow!"

"Like enough, like enough, though thou hast to brag for't," said the
first speaker tauntingly--an old customer of the house, and a compiler
of leathern extremities for the good burghers and their wives.

"Give o'er your gostering," said another; "_Non omnes qui citharam
tenent, sunt citharoedi_.[iii] Many talk of Robin Hood who never shot from
his bow. Know ye not 'tis Peggy's year, and her oblation hath not been
rendered? Eschew therefore the rather your bravery until this night be
overpast."

This learned harangue betrayed the schoolmaster, who was prone to make
Gaffer Wiswall's chimney-side a temporary refuge from the broils and
disturbances of his own, where his spouse, by way of enticing him to
remain, generally contrived either to rate him soundly or to sulk
during their brief communion.

"Who cares for Peg?" said the hero who had boasted of his
blandishments with the maids. "She may go drown herself i' the Red Sea
for aught I care!"

This heretical, unbelieving, and impious scorner was a man of shreds
and patches, a pot-valiant tailor, whose ungartered hosen, loose
knee-strings, and thin shambling legs, sufficiently betokened the
sedentary nature of his avocations. "I wonder the parson hasn't gi'en
her a lift wi' Pharaoh and his host ere this," continued he.

"Or the schoolmaster," said that provoking little personage, the first
speaker, whose sole aim was to throw the apple of discord amongst his
fellows.

"And pray who may this lady be whom ye so ungallantly devote to
perdition?" inquired a stranger from behind, who had hitherto been
silent, apparently not wishful to join the hilarity of those he
addressed. The party quesited was in the midst of a puff of exhalation
more than usually prolonged when the question was put, so that ere he
could frame his organs to the requisite reply the pragmatical tailor,
whose glibness of tongue was equalled only by his assurance, gave the
following by way of parenthesis:--

"Plague on't, where's t'ou bin a' thy life, 'at doesn't know Peg
O'Nelly, man?"

"Deuce tak' thee for a saucy lout," said the sutor; "I'll brak' thy
spindle-shanks wi' my pipe-stump. Be civil if thou can, Nicky, to thy
betters. Sir, if it please ye to listen, we'll have ye well instructed
in the matter by the schoolmaster here." He cast a roguish look at the
pedagogue as he spoke. But I pray you draw in with us, an' make one
wi' the rest."

The scholar adjusted himself, pass