ho lived in the village.

"Let's ha' another can o' ale, afore ye sit down," said Tonson, "we can
do with another half gallon, I'm thinking!" This order also was quickly
attended to; and then the landlord, having seen to the door, fastened
the shutters close, and stirred the crackling fire, took his place on a
vacant stool, and resumed his pipe.

"So she do take a very long grave, Jonas?" inquired Dickons of the
sexton, after some little pause.

"Ay, Mr. Dickons, a' think she do, t'ould girl! I always thought she
would--I used to measure her (as one may say) in my mind, whenever I saw
her! 'Tis a reg'lar _man's_ size, I warrant you; and when parson saw it,
a' said, he thought 'twere too big; but I axed his pardon, and said I
hadn't been sexton for thirty years without knowing my business--he,
he!"

"I suppose, Jonas, you mun ha' seen her walking about i' t' village, in
your time!--_Were_ she such a big-looking woman?" inquired Pumpkin, as
he shook the ashes out of his pipe, and replenished it.

"Forty year ago I did use to see her--she were then an old woman, wi'
white hair, and leaned on a stick--I never thought she'd a' lasted so
long," replied Higgs, emptying his glass.

"She've had a pretty long spell on't," quoth Dickons, after slowly
emptying his mouth of smoke.

"A hundred and two," replied the sexton; "so saith her coffin-plate--a'
see'd it to-day."

"What were her name?" inquired Tonson--"_I_ never knew her by any name
but Blind Bess."

"Her name be _Elizabeth Crabtree_ on the coffin," replied Higgs; "and
she be to be buried to-morrow."

"She were a strange old woman," said Hazel, one of the farmers, as he
took down one of the oatcakes hanging overhead; and breaking off a
piece, held it with the tongs before the fire to toast, and then put it
into his ale.

"Ay, she were," quoth Pumpkin; "I wonder what she thinks o' such things
_now_--maybe--God forgive me!--she's paying dear for her tricks!"

"Tut, Pumpkin," said Tonson, "let t'ould creature rest in her grave,
where she's going to, peaceably!"

"Ay, Master Tonson," quoth the clerk, in his reading-desk twang--"THERE
_be no knowledge_, _nor wisdom_, _nor device_!"

"'Tis very odd," observed Pumpkin, "but this dog that's lying at my feet
never could a' bear going past her cottage late o' nights--hang me if he
could; and the night she died--Lord! you should have heard the howl
Hector gave--and a' didn't then know she were gone--it's as true as th