"I should-that's the life for me!"

"Thee likes plenty o' fresh air?" said the farmer.

"Yes," answered Horatio, "and fresh b.u.t.ter and fresh eggs."

"I'll go to ---, if thee doen't know what's good for thee, anyhow.

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 b.u.mpkin; "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. b.u.mpkin," 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 b.u.mpkin, "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 b.u.mpkin; "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 b.u.mpkin.

"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 b.u.mpkin, giving his horse a tremendous jerk with the reins. "I spoase thee'd like a gla.s.s, Mr. Jigger."

"I don't care about it for myself," answered the youth; "but if you like to have one I'll join you with pleasure."

"So us wool then;" and up they pulled at the sign of the "Merry-go-round"

on Addlehead Green.

"Bain't bad tackle!" said Mr. b.u.mpkin, tossing off his gla.s.s.

"No," responded Horatio, "I've tasted worse medicine. I quite enjoy my ride, Mr. b.u.mpkin; I wish we had a dozen more affidavits to swear."

"I doan't," said the client; "I sworn a goodish many on em as it be. I doan't think that air Snooks can bate un."

"I don't think he can," said Horatio, as they once more climbed into the old-fashioned gig; "but talk about paper, you should see your brief: that's a caution and no mistake!"

"Is ur now? In what way, sir?"

"Lor, how I should like a cigar, Mr. b.u.mpkin, if I'd only got my case with me, but unfortunately-"

"Would ur-then thee shall 'ave one; here, Mr. Ostler, jest goo and fetch one o' them there what d'ye call ems."

"O, do they sell them down here? Cigars-cigars," said Horatio, "I wasn't aware of that."

"Now then, sir; what about this ere what d'ye call un-beef?"

Mr. b.u.mpkin, being a very artful man, was inwardly chuckling at the successful manuvring by which he was drawing out this pale unsophisticated London youth, and hoped by dint of a little strategy to learn a good deal before they parted company.

"Brief! brief!" said Horatio, laughing.

"Ah! so it wur; thee said he wur a h.e.l.l of a big un."

"Yes, and I wrote him myself."

"Did ur now; then thee knows all about un?"

"From beginning to end-he is a clipper, I can tell you; a regular whacker."

"I hope he'll whack thic Snooks then."

"He's a beauty!" rejoined Horatio, much to his companion's surprise; for here was this young man speaking of a brief in the same terms that he (b.u.mpkin) would use with reference to a prize wurzel or swede. A brief being a _beauty_ sounded somewhat strange in the ears of a farmer who could a.s.sociate the term with nothing that didn't grow on the farm.

"I dare say you've heard of Macaulay's England?" asked the lad.

"Whose England?"

"Macaulay's."

"I've eerd o' England, if you mean this ere country, sartainly."

"You've heard of Macaulay's History, I mean?"

"Can't say as ever I eerd tell on un."

"Well, there's as much in your brief as there is in that book, and that's saying something, ain't it?"

"Zo't be; but what th' devil be 't all about?"

"Well, I'll tell you," said Horatio, holding out his hands and putting the point of his right forefinger on to the point of the forefinger of his left hand. "First: biography of the plaintiff."