nk. Can you read and write?"

"Well, and what if I cannot?" returns Patteson, "there ne'er was but
one, I ever heard of, that knew letters, never having learnt, and well
he might, for he made them that made them."

"Meg, there is sense in this poor fellow," says father, "we will have
him home and be kind to him."

And, sure enow, we have done so and been so ever since.

A glance at the anteceding pages of this libellus me-sheweth poor Will
Roper at y^e season his love-fitt for me was at its height. He troubleth
me with it no longer, nor with his religious disquietations. Hard studdy
of the law hath filled his head with other matters, and made him
infinitely more rationall, and by consequents, more agreeable. 'Twas one
of those preferences young people sometimes manifest, themselves know
neither why nor wherefore, and are shamed, afterwards, to be reminded
of. I'm sure I shall ne'er remind him. There was nothing in me to fix a
rational or passionate regard. I have neither Bess's witt nor white
teeth, nor Daisy's dark eyes, nor Mercy's dimple. A plain-favoured girl,
with changefulle spiritts--that's alle.

Patteson's latest jest was taking precedence of father yesterday, with
the saying, "Give place, brother; you are but jester to King Harry, and
I'm jester to Sir Thomas More; I'll leave you to decide which is y^e
greater man of the two."

"Why, gossip," cries father, "his grace woulde make two of me."

"Not a bit of it," returns Patteson, "he's big enow for two such as you
are, I grant ye, but the king can't make two of you. No! lords and
commons may make a king, but a king can't make a Sir Thomas More."

"Yes, he can," rejoyns father, "he can make me Lord Chancellor, and then
he will make me more than I am already; _ergo_ he will make Sir Thomas
more."

"But what I mean is," persists the fool, "that the king can't make such
another as you are, any more than all the king's horses and all the
king's men can put Humty-dumty together again, which is an ancient
riddle, and full of marrow. And soe he'll find, if ever he lifts thy
head off from thy shoulders, which God forbid."

Father delighteth in sparring with Patteson far more than in jesting
with y^e king, whom he alwaies looks on as a lion that may, any minute,
fall on him and rend him. Whereas, with 'tother, he ungirds his mind.
Their banter commonly exceeds not plesantrie, but Patteson is ne'er
without an answer, and although, maybe, each amuses himselfe now