it of the red deer
running wild in these parts?'

'To be sure it is, sir,' I answered; 'where should we get any other?'

'Right, right, you are right, my son. I have heard that the flavour
is marvellous. Some of them came and scared me so, in the fog of the
morning, that I hungered for them ever since. Ha, ha, I saw their
haunches. But the young lady will not forget--art sure she will not
forget it?'

'You may trust her to forget nothing, sir, that may tempt a guest to his
comfort.'

'In faith, then, I will leave my horse in your hands, and be off for
it. Half the pleasure of the mouth is in the nose beforehand. But stay,
almost I forgot my business, in the hurry which thy tongue hath spread
through my lately despairing belly. Hungry I am, and sore of body, from
my heels right upward, and sorest in front of my doublet, yet may I not
rest nor bite barley-bread, until I have seen and touched John Ridd. God
grant that he be not far away; I must eat my saddle, if it be so.'

'Have no fear, good sir,' I answered; 'you have seen and touched John
Ridd. I am he, and not one likely to go beneath a bushel.'

'It would take a large bushel to hold thee, John Ridd. In the name of
the King, His Majesty, Charles the Second, these presents!'

He touched me with the white thing which I had first seen him waving,
and which I now beheld to be sheepskin, such as they call parchment.
It was tied across with cord, and fastened down in every corner
with unsightly dabs of wax. By order of the messenger (for I was
over-frightened now to think of doing anything), I broke enough of seals
to keep an Easter ghost from rising; and there I saw my name in large;
God grant such another shock may never befall me in my old age.

'Read, my son; read, thou great fool, if indeed thou canst read,' said
the officer to encourage me; 'there is nothing to kill thee, boy, and
my supper will be spoiling. Stare not at me so, thou fool; thou art big
enough to eat me; read, read, read.'

'If you please, sir, what is your name?' I asked; though why I asked him
I know not, except from fear of witchcraft.

'Jeremy Stickles is my name, lad, nothing more than a poor apparitor of
the worshipful Court of King's Bench. And at this moment a starving one,
and no supper for me unless thou wilt read.'

Being compelled in this way, I read pretty nigh as follows; not that I
give the whole of it, but only the gist and the emphasis,--

'To our good subject, John Ridd,