he master-thatcher, a man with a spark of subdued
liveliness in his eye, who had hitherto kept his attention mainly upon
small objects a long way ahead, as he sat in front of the van with his
feet outside. 'Theirs was a queerer experience of a pa'son and clerk
than some folks get, and may cheer 'ee up a little after this dampness
that's been flung over yer soul.'

The returned one replied that he knew nothing of the history, and should
be happy to hear it, quite recollecting the personality of the man
Satchel.

'Ah no; this Andrey Satchel is the son of the Satchel that you knew; this
one has not been married more than two or three years, and 'twas at the
time o' the wedding that the accident happened that I could tell 'ee of,
or anybody else here, for that matter.'

'No, no; you must tell it, neighbour, if anybody,' said several; a
request in which Mr. Lackland joined, adding that the Satchel family was
one he had known well before leaving home.

'I'll just mention, as you be a stranger,' whispered the carrier to
Lackland, 'that Christopher's stories will bear pruning.'

The emigrant nodded.

'Well, I can soon tell it,' said the master-thatcher, schooling himself
to a tone of actuality. 'Though as it has more to do with the pa'son and
clerk than with Andrey himself, it ought to be told by a better churchman
than I.'

ANDREY SATCHEL AND THE PARSON AND CLERK

'It all arose, you must know, from Andrey being fond of a drop of drink
at that time--though he's a sober enough man now by all account, so much
the better for him. Jane, his bride, you see, was somewhat older than
Andrey; how much older I don't pretend to say; she was not one of our
parish, and the register alone may be able to tell that. But, at any
rate, her being a little ahead of her young man in mortal years, coupled
with other bodily circumstances--'

('Ah, poor thing!' sighed the women.)

'--made her very anxious to get the thing done before he changed his
mind; and 'twas with a joyful countenance (they say) that she, with
Andrey and his brother and sister-in-law, marched off to church one
November morning as soon as 'twas day a'most, to be made one with Andrey
for the rest of her life. He had left our place long before it was
light, and the folks that were up all waved their lanterns at him, and
flung up their hats as he went.

'The church of her parish was a mile and more from the houses, and, as it
was a wonderful fine day for the