horses.
We were in the cricket-field, where Dipwell was playing its first match
of the season, and a Dipwell lad, furious to see the elevens commit such
a breach of the rules and decency as to troop away while the game was
hot, and surround my father, flung the cricket-ball into the midst and
hit two or three of the men hard. My father had to shield him from
the consequences. He said he liked that boy; and he pleaded for him so
winningly and funnily that the man who was hurt most laughed loudest.

Standing up in the carriage, and holding me by the hand, he addressed
them by their names: 'Sweetwinter, I thank you for your attention to my
son; and you, Thribble; and you, my man; and you, Baker; Rippengale,
and you; and you, Jupp'; as if he knew them personally. It was true he
nodded at random. Then he delivered a short speech, and named himself a
regular subscriber to their innocent pleasures. He gave them money,
and scattered silver coin among the boys and girls, and praised John
Thresher, and Martha, his wife, for their care of me, and pointing to
the chimneys of the farm, said that the house there was holy to him from
henceforth, and he should visit it annually if possible, but always in
the month of May, and in the shape of his subscription, as certain as
the cowslip. The men, after their fit of cheering, appeared unwilling to
recommence their play, so he alighted and delivered the first ball, and
then walked away with my hand in his, saying:

'Yes, my son, we will return to them tenfold what they have done for
you. The eleventh day of May shall be a day of pleasure for Dipwell
while I last, and you will keep it in memory of me when I am gone. And
now to see the bed you have slept in.'

Martha Thresher showed him the bed, showed him flowers I had planted,
and a Spanish chestnut tree just peeping.

'Ha!' said he, beaming at every fresh sight of my doings: 'madam, I am
your life-long debtor and friend!' He kissed her on the cheek.

John Thresher cried out: 'Why, dame, you trembles like a maid.'

She spoke very faintly, and was red in the face up to the time of our
departure. John stood like a soldier. We drove away from a cheering
crowd of cricketers and farm-labourers, as if discharged from a great
gun. 'A royal salvo!' said my father, and asked me earnestly whether I
had forgotten to reward and take a particular farewell of any one of
my friends. I told him I had forgotten no one, and thought it was true,
until