"Yet what is usually known as Uncle Will Ben's grace, is, 'God bless the meat and now let's eat!'
"Another saying accredited to Uncle Will—that 'Job had patience, but Job never had such a splat of black petates in his life'—is owing to An' Mary, his wife, having been a parson's daughter from upwards, and 'brought up like a lady' as he was fond of saying sometimes. When Will was a young and smart militia man, and An' Mary a girl in her teens, he fell in love with her and she fell in love with him, and came with him to St. Just. In their time potatoes were just coming into use; gentlemen and some farmers planted a few in their gardens as a curious vegetable to be used on extraordinary occasions. Will Ben, not to be behind the fashion, had a small spot planted in his garden. When his potatoes were high enough for hoeing Will told his wife Mary, who kept the garden in order, to hoe the 'splat of petates,' and be sure to hoe them clean. When William came in from his work in the fields, he said, 'Well Mary, hast a hoed the petates?' 'Yes, William dear, and hoed them nice and clean; just go out and look at them whilst I take up the supper.' 'William dear' went into the garden, but he saw no potatoe-plants, for Mary had cut them all out of the ground, not knowing them from weeds. 'Dear William' came in swearing on his wife for hoeing up all the precious petates, telling her that it had been ten times better for him if he had wedded the sexton's dafter, as she would have made a better farmer's wife. An' Mary (who, as I have heard say, was always a dear gentle soul) only replied, 'Sweet William, have patience and they will grow again. Remember Job, William dear, and think, cheeld vean, how he had patience.'
"'Oh! d——n Job,' replied sweet William, 'don't tell me about Job. Job never had such a splat of black petates in his life!'
"And now, my dears," said Capt. Peter, holding up a pot of foaming ale, "here's health and luck to 'e all, my hearties, and a merry Feasten-tide to 'one and all.' There's no sense in being miserable, and, for my part, old as I am, I'd go ten miles this night to dance to the music of as good a fiddler and as honest a man as Uncle Will Ben."
[The Fairy Master, or Bob o' the Carn.]
Out steps some Faery, with quick motion,
And tells him wonders of some flowrie vale.
Marston.