green
are they--and scattered far into the dim distance. Look! there is
the city o' Shakespeare--Norman towers and battlements and Gothic
arches looming above the sea. Go there an' look at the people as
they come an' go. Mingle with them an' find good
company--merry-hearted folk a-plenty, an' God knows I love the
merry-hearted! Talk with them, an' they will teach thee wisdom.
Hard by is the Isle o' Milton, an' beyond are many--it would take
thee years to visit them. Ah, sor, half me time I live in the
Blessed Isles. What is thy affliction, boy?"

He turned to Kent--a boy whose hard luck was proverbial, and whose
left arm was in a sling.

"Broke it wrestling," said the boy.

"Kent has bad luck," said Trove. "Last year he broke his leg."

"Obey the law, or thou shalt break the bone o' thy neck," said
Darrel, quickly.

"I do obey the law," said Trent.

"Ay--the written law," said the clock tinker, "an' small credit to
thee. But the law o' thine own discovery,--the law that is for
thyself an' no other,--hast thou ne'er thought of it? Ill luck is
the penalty o' law-breaking. Therefore study the law that is for
thyself. Already I have discovered one for thee, an' it is, 'I
have not limberness enough in me bones, so I must put them in no
unnecessary peril.' Listen, I'll read thee me own code."

The clock tinker rose and got his Shakespeare, ragged from long
use, and read from a fly-leaf, his code of private law, to wit:--

"Walk at least four miles a day.

"Eat no pork and be at peace with thy liver.

"Measure thy words and cure a habit of exaggeration.

"Thine eyes are faulty--therefore, going up or down, look well to
thy steps.

"Beware of ardent spirits, for the curse that is in thy blood. It
will turn thy heart to stone.

"In giving, remember Darrel.

"Bandy no words with any man.

"Play at no game of chance.

"Think o' these things an' forget thyself."

"Now there is the law that is for me alone," Darrel continued,
looking up at the boys. "Others may eat pork or taste the red cup,
or dally with hazards an' suffer no great harm--not I. Good
youths, remember, ill luck is for him only that is ignorant,
neglectful, or defiant o' private law."

"But suppose your house fall upon you," Trove suggested.

"I speak not o' common perils," said the tinker. "But
enough--let's up with the sail. Heave ho! an' away for the Blessed
Isles. Which shall it be?"

He turned to a rude shelf, where