"But you must set it up Somewhere else," cries the other, who was the Chalfont Constable; "for we Chalfont Folks are very particular, and can't have Strangers come harbouring here in our Highways and Hedges,—dying, and making themselves disagreeable."
"But we don't mean to die or be disagreeable," says the other. "We are on our Way to my Wife's Parish; and, sure, you cannot stop us on the King's Highway."
"Oh! but we can, though," says the Constable. "And, besides, this is not
the King's Highway, but only a Bye-way, which is next to private
Property; and the Gentleman at present in Occupation of that private
Property will be highly and justly offended if you go to give him the
Plague."
"That's me," says Father. "Do tell him, Deb, not to be so hard on the poor People, but to let them abide where they are till the Sabbath is over. I dare say they have clean Bills of Health, as they state, and the Spot is so lonely, they need not be denied Fire and Water, which is next to Excommunication."
So I parleyed with John Constable, and he parleyed with the Travellers, who really had Passports, and seemed Honest as well as Sound. So they were permitted, without Let or Hindrance, to erect their little Booth; and in a little while they had collected Sticks enough to light a Fire, the Smoke of which annoyed us not, because we were to Windward.
"What have we for Dinner To-day?" says Father.
"A cold Shoulder of Mutton," says Mother, who had thrown 'em a couple of
Cabbages.
"Well," says Father, "'twas to a cold Shoulder of Mutton that Samuel set down Saul; and what was good enough for a Prophet may well content a Poet. I propose, that what we leave of ours To-day, should be given to these poor People for their Sabbath's Dinner; and I, for one, shall eat no Meat To-day."
In fact, none did but Mary and Mother, who find fasting not good for their Stomachs; soe Anne, who is the most fearlesse of us all, handed the Joint over to them, with some broken Bread and Dripping, which was most thankfully received. In Truth, I believe them harmless People, for they are now a singing Psalms.
Ellwood has turned up agayn, to the great Pleasure of Father, who delights in his Company, and likes his Reading better than ours, though he will call Pater Payter. Consequence is, I have infinitely more Leisure, and can ramble hither and thither, (always shunning Wayfarers), and bring Home my Lap full of Flowers and Weeds, with rusticall Names, such as Ragged Robin, Sneezewort, Cream-and-Codlins, Jack-in-the-Hedge, or Sauce-alone. Many of these I knew not before; but I describe them to Father, and he tells me what they are. He hath finished his Poem, and given it Ellwood to read, in the most careless Fashion imaginable, saying, "You can take this Home, and run through it at your Leisure. I should like to hear your Judgment on it some Time or other." Nor do I believe he has ever since given himself an uneasy Thought of what that Judgment may be, nor what the World at large may think of it. His Pleasure is not in Praise but Production; the last makes him now and then a little feverish; the other, or its want, never. Just at last, 'twas hard Work to us both; he was like a Wheel running downhill, that must get to the End before it stopped. Mother scolded him, and made him promise he would leave off for a Week or so; at least, she says he did, and he says he did not, and asks her whether, if the Grass had promised not to grow she would believe it.