that an outer-sole of
hemlock-tanned leather would greatly lengthen the working life of a poor
man's heavy boot; though for want of suppleness it was useless for goods
supplied to the "quality." The American patterns and lasts, on the other
hand, he treated with great respect. He held that they embodied a far
sounder knowledge of the human foot than did the English variety, and
found them a great help to his trade in giving style, comfort, and
accuracy of fit. At a time when the great manufacturers of Stafford and
Northampton were blundering along with a range of four or five standard
patterns, Hankin, in his little shop, was working on much finer
intervals and producing nine regular sizes of men's boots. Indeed, his
ready-made goods were so excellent, and their "fit" so certain, that
some of his customers preferred them, and ordered him to abandon their
lasts.

Such was Hankin's manner of life and conversation. If there is such a
place as heaven, and the reader ever succeeds in getting there, let him
look out for Shoemaker Hankin among the highest seats of glory. His
funeral oration was pronounced, though not in public, by Snarley Bob.
"Shoemaker Hankin were a great man. He'd got hold o' lots o' good
things; but he'd got some on 'em by the wrong end. He _talked_ more than
a man o' his size ought to ha' done. He spent his breath in proving that
God doesn't exist, and his life in proving that He does."

SNARLEY BOB ON THE STARS

Towards the end of his life there were few persons with whom Snarley
would hold converse, for his contempt of the human race was
immeasurable. There was Mrs. Abel at the Rectory, whom he adored; there
were the Perrymans, whom he loved; and there was myself, whom he
tolerated. There was also his old wife, whom he treated as part of
himself, neither better nor worse. With other human beings--saving only
the children--his intercourse was limited as far as possible to
interjectory grunts and snarls--whence his name.

It was in an old quarry among the western hills, on a bleak January day
not long before his death, that I met Snarley Bob and heard him
discourse of the everlasting stars. The quarry was the place in which to
find Snarley most at his ease. In the little room of his cottage he
could hardly be persuaded to speak; the confined space made him
restless; and, as often as not, if a question were asked him he would
seem not to hear it, and would presently get up, walk out of the doo