Thee'd ha' to work 'ard to keep straaight, I can tell thee; thee'd had to
plough, and danged if I believe thee could hold plough! What's thee say
to that, lad?"

"I think I could."

"Devil a bit! now spoase thee'st got plough-handles under thy arms, and
the cord in the 'ands, and thee wanted to keep t'colter from jibbin into
t' soil, wouldst thee press down wi' might and main, or how?"

"Press down with might and main," said Horatio.

"Right!" exclaimed Bumpkin; "danged if I doant think thee'd make a
ploughman now. Dost know what th' manin o' mither woiy be?"

This was rather a startling question for the unsophisticated London
youth. He had never heard such an expression in his life; and although
he might have puzzled his agricultural interrogator by a good many
questions in return, yet that possibility was no answer to "mither woiy."

"I don't know that, Mr. Bumpkin," he ingenuously replied.

"No? well, there ain't a commoner word down ere nor 'mither woiy,' and
there ain't a boy arf your age as doan't know the manin o't, so thee see
thee got summat to larn. Now it mane this--spoase thee got a team o'
horses at dung cart or gravel cart, and thee wants em to come to ee; thee
jest holds whip up over to the ed o' th' leadin orse like this ere, and
says 'mither woiy,' and round er comes as natteral as possible."

"O, that's it!" said Horatio; "I see."

"Ah!" said Bumpkin, "I can teach ee summat, can't I, though thee comes
from town, and I be only a country clown farmer?"

"I should just like to come down a month on trial, that's all, when I
have my holiday," said the youth; "I think it would do me good: 'mither
woiy,'" he said, mimicking his instructor.

"Thee shall come if thee likes," replied the good-natured Bumpkin;
"Nancy'll be proud to see thee--thee's got 'mither woiy' to rights."

"What a very nice public-house!" exclaimed Horatio, as they approached a
village green where an old Inn that had flourished in the coaching days
still stood, the decaying monument of a past age, and an almost forgotten
style of locomotion.

"Be a good house. I often pulls up there on way from market."

"Did you ever try rum and milk for your cough?" inquired the pale youth.

"Never had no cough," said Bumpkin.

"What a good thing! But it's capital, they say, in case you should have
one; they say there's nothing beats rum and milk."

"Hem!" muttered Bumpkin, giving his horse a tremendous jerk with the
reins. "I s