Zebedee is little better than a fool."
_Parent_: "Naw, naw, schoolmaster; my Zebedee's no fule; only a bit
easy to teach."

[I myself know a farmer who approached the head master of a Grammar School
and begged for a reduction in terms: "because," he pleaded, "I know my
son: he's that thick you can get very little into en, and I believe in
payment by results."]

Here we pass from confusion of language into mere confusion of thought,
the classical instance of which is the Mevagissey man who, having been
asked the old question, "If a herring and a half cost three-halfpence, how
many can you buy for a shilling?'" and having given it up and been told
the answer, responded brightly, "Why, o' course! Darn me, if I wasn'
thinkin' of pilchards!" I met with a fair Devon rival to this story the
other day in the reported conversation of two farmers discussing the
electric light at Chagford (run by Chagford's lavish water-power).
"It do seem out of reason," said the one, "to make vire out o' watter."
"No," agreed the other, "it don't seem possible: but there,"--after a slow
pause--"'tis butiful water to Chaggyford!"

It was pleasant, while the Magazine lasted, to record these and like
simplicities: and though the voyage was not long, one may recall without
regret its send-off, brave enough in its way:--

"'WISH 'EE WELL!'

"The ensign's dipped; the captain takes the wheel.
'So long!' the pilot waves, and 'Wish 'ee well!'
Go little craft, and with a home-made keel
'Mid loftier ships, but with a heart as leal,
Learn of blue waters and the long sea swell!

"Through the spring days we built and tackled thee,
Tested thy timbers, saw thy rigging sound,
Bent sail, and now put forth unto the sea
Where those leviathans, the critics, be,
And other monsters diversely profound.

"Some bronzed Phoenician with his pigmy freight
Haply thy herald was, who drave of yore
Deep-laden from Bolerium by the Strait
Of Gades, and beside his city's gate
Chaffered in ingots cast of Cornish ore.

"So be thou fortunate as thou art bold;
Fare, little craft, and make the world thy friend:
And, it may be--when all thy journey's told
With anchor dropped and tattered canvas rolled,
And some good won for Cornwall in the end--

"Thou wilt recall, as best, a lonely beach,
And a few exiles, to the