wish they'd let me bring my oarse."

"Joe, thee ha' had too much to drink, I know thee has; and didn't I warn
thee, Joe? Thee can't say I didn't warn thee."

"Thee did, maister, I'll allays say it; thee warned I well--but lor that
there stuff as the Sergeant had, it jist shoots through thee and livins
thee oop for all the world as if thee got a young ooman in thee arms in a
dancin' booth at the fair."

"Ha, Joe, it were drink done it."

"Noa, noa, never!--good-night, maister, and God bless thee--thee been a
good maister, and I been a good sarvant. I shall allays think o' thee
and Missis, too."

Here I saw that Mr. Bumpkin, what with his feelings and what with his
gin-and-water, was well nigh overcome with emotion. Nor was it to be
wondered at; he was in London a stranger, waiting for a trial with a
neighbour, with whom for years he had been on friendly terms; his hard
savings were fast disappearing; his stock and furniture were mortgaged;
some of it had been sold, and his principal witness and faithful servant
was now gone for a soldier. In addition to all this, poor Mr. Bumpkin
could not help recalling the happiness of his past life, his early
struggles, his rigid self-denial, his pleasure as the modest savings
accumulated--not so much occasioned by the sordid desire of wealth, as
the nobler wish to be independent. Then there was Mrs. Bumpkin, who
naturally crossed his mind at this miserable moment in his existence--at
home by herself--faithful, hardworking woman, who believed not only in
her husband's wisdom, but in his luck. She had never liked this going to
law, and would much rather have given Snooks the pig than it should have
come about; yet she could not help believing that her husband must be
right come what may. What would she think of Joe's leaving them in this
way? All this passed through the shallow mind of the farmer as he
prepared for bed. And there was no getting away from his thoughts, try
as he would. As he lay on his bed there passed before his mind the old
farm-house, with its elm tree; and the barnyard, newly littered down with
the sweet smelling fodder; the orchard blossoms smiling in the morning
sunshine; the pigs routing through the straw; the excited ducks and the
swifter fowls rushing towards Mrs. Bumpkin as she came out to shake the
tablecloth; the sleek and shining cows; the meadows dotted all over with
yellow buttercups; the stately bull feeding in the distance by himself;
th