orious rogue, whose name is Thomas
Faggus.' With that he offered his commission; but Squire Maunder told
the truth, that he could not rade even words in print, much less written
karakters.* Then the other magistrates rode up, and put their heads
together, how to meet the London gentleman without loss of importance.
There wor one of 'em as could rade purty vair, and her made out King's
mark upon it: and he bowed upon his horse to the gentleman, and he laid
his hand on his heart and said, 'Worshipful sir, we, as has the honour
of His Gracious Majesty's commission, are entirely at your service, and
crave instructions from you.'"

* Lest John Fry seem to under-rate the erudition of
Devonshire magistrates, I venture to offer copy of a letter
from a Justice of the Peace to his bookseller, circa 1810
A.D., now in my possession:--

'Sur.
'plez to zen me the aks relatting to _A-gustus-paks_,'

--Ed. of L.D.

[Emphasized this in original]

"Then a waving of hats began, and a bowing, and making of legs to wan
anather, sich as nayver wor zeed afore; but none of 'em arl, for air and
brading, cud coom anaigh the gentleman with the long grave face.

"'Your warships have posted the men right well,' saith he with anather
bow all round; 'surely that big rogue will have no chance left among so
many valiant musketeers. Ha! what see I there, my friend? Rust in the
pan of your gun! That gun would never go off, sure as I am the King's
Commissioner. And I see another just as bad; and lo, there the
third! Pardon me, gentlemen, I have been so used to His Majesty's
Ordnance-yards. But I fear that bold rogue would ride through all of
you, and laugh at your worship's beards, by George.'

"'But what shall us do?' Squire Maunder axed; 'I vear there be no oil
here.'

"'Discharge your pieces, gentlemen, and let the men do the same; or at
least let us try to discharge them, and load again with fresh powder. It
is the fog of the morning hath spoiled the priming. That rogue is not
in sight yet: but God knows we must not be asleep with him, or what will
His Majesty say to me, if we let him slip once more?'

"'Excellent, wondrous well said, good sir,' Squire Maunder answered him;
'I never should have thought of that now. Bill Blacksmith, tell all the
men to be ready to shoot up into the air, directly I give the word. Now,
are you ready there, Bill?'

"'All ready, your worship,' saith Bill, saluting lik