thus warranted and confirmed by the opinion of all that know him. "My worthy friend Sir Roger is one of those who is not only at peace within himself, but beloved and esteemed by all about him. He receives a suitable tribute for his universal benevolence to mankind, in the returns of affection and good-will which are paid him by every one that lives within his neighbourhood. I lately met with two or three odd instances of that general respect which is shown to the good old knight. He would needs carry Will Wimble and myself with him to the county assizes. As we were upon the road, Will Wimble joined a couple of plain men who rid before us, and conversed with them for some time, during which my friend Sir Roger acquainted me with their characters. "The first of them,' says he, 'who has a spaniel by his side, is a yeoman of about a hundred pounds a-year, an honest man. He is just within the Game Act, and qualified to kill a hare or a pheasant. He knocks down a dinner with his gun twice or thrice a week; and by that means lives much cheaper than those who have not so good an estate as himself. He would be a good neighbour if he did not destroy so many partridges. In short, he is a very sensible man; shoots flying; and has been several times foreman of the petty jury. "The other that rides along with him is Tom Touchy, a fellow famous for taking "the law" of everybody. There is not one in the town where he lives that he has not sued at a quartersessions. The rogue had once the impudence to go to law with the widow. His head is full of costs, damages, and ejectments. He plagued a couple of honest gentlemen so long for a trespass in breaking one of his hedges, till he was forced to sell the ground it enclosed to defray the charges of the prosecution; his father left him fourscore pounds a year; but he has cast, and been cast so often, that he is now not worth thirty. I suppose he is going upon the old business of the willow-tree.' "As Sir Roger was giving me this account of Tom Touchy, Will Wimble and his two companions stopped short till we came up to them. After having paid their respects to Sir Roger, Will told him that Mr Touchy and he must appeal to him upon a dispute that arose between them. Will, it seems, had been giving his fellow-traveller an account of his angling one day in such a hole; when Tom Touchy, instead of hearing out his story, told him that Mr Such-a-one, if he pleased, might take the law of him for fishing in that part of the river. My friend Sir Roger heard them both upon a round trot; and after having paused some time, told them, with the air of a man who would not give his judgment rashly, that much might be said on both sides.' They were neither of them dissatisfied with the knight's determination, because neither of them found himself in the wrong by it. Upon which we made the best of our way to the assizes. "The court was set before Sir Roger came; but, notwithstanding all the justices had taken their places upon the bench, they made room for the old knight at the head of them; who, for his reputation in the county, took occasion to whisper in the judge's ear that he was glad his lordship had met with so much good weather in his circuit. I was listening to the proceedings of the court with much attention, and infinitely pleased with that great appearance of solemnity which so properly accompanies such a public administration of our laws, when, after about an hour's sitting, I observed, to my great surprise, in the midst of a trial, that my friend Sir Roger was getting up to speak. I was in some pain for him, until I found he had acquitted himself of two or three sentences with a look of much business and great intrepidity. 66 Upon his first rising, the court was hushed, and a general whisper ran among the country-people that Sir Roger was up.' The speech he made was so little to the purpose, that I shall not trouble my readers with an account of it; and I believe was not so much designed by the knight himself to inform the court, as to give him a figure in my eye, and keep up his credit in the county. "I was highly delighted, when the court rose, to see the gentlemen of the county gathering about my old friend, and striving who should compliment him most; at the same time that the ordi nary people gazed upon him at a distance, not a little admiring his courage that he was not afraid to speak to the judge. "In our return home we met with a very odd accident, which I cannot forbear relating, because it shows how desirous all who know Sir Roger are of giving him marks of their esteem. When we were arrived upon the verge of his estate, we stopped at a little inn to rest ourselves and our horses. The man of the house had, it seems, been formerly a servant in the knight's family; and to do honour to his old master, had, some time since, unknown to Sir Roger, put him up in a sign-post before the door; so that the knight's head hung out upon the road about a week before he himself knew anything of the matter. As soon as Sir Roger was acquainted with it, finding that his servant's indiscretion proceeded wholly from affection and good-will, he only told him that he had made him too high a compliment; and, when the fellow seemed to think that could hardly be, added, with a more decisive look, that it was too great an honour for any man under a duke; but told him, at the same time, that it might be altered with a very few touches, and that he himself would be at the charge of it. Accordingly, they got a painter by the knight's directions to add a pair of whiskers to the face, and by a little aggravation to the features to change it into the Saracen's Head. I should not have known this story, had not the innkeeper, upon Sir Roger's alighting, told him in my hearing that his honour's head was brought last night with the alterations that he had ordered to be made in it. Upon this, my friend, with his usual cheerfulness related the particulars above mentioned, and ordered the head to be brought into the room. I could not forbear discovering greater expressions of mirth than ordinary upon the appearance of this monstrous face, under which, notwithstanding it was made to frown and stare in a most extraordinary manner, I could still discover a distant resemblance of my old friend. Sir Roger, upon seeing me laugh, desired me to tell him truly if I thought it possible for people to know him in that disguise. I at first kept my usual silence; but, upon the knight's conjuring me to tell him whether it was not still more like himself than a Saracen, I com posed my countenance in the best manner I could, and replied, 'that much might be said on both sides.' "These several adventures, with the knight's behaviour in them, gave me as pleasant a day as ever I met with in any of my travels." Ballads. GENTLE HERDSMAN. [THIS beautiful old ballad, being "A Dialogue between a Pilgrim and a Herdsman," is printed in Percy's "Reliques of Ancient Poetry." It has evidently suggested Goldsmith's ballad of "Edwin and Angelina," and three of the stanzas of the modern poem are paraphrased from the Gentle Herdsman.] Gentle herdsman, tell to me, Of courtesy I thee pray, Unto the town of Walsingham Which is the right and ready way. "Unto the town of Walsingham The way is hard for to be gone; And very crooked are those paths For you to find out all alone." Were the miles doubled thrice, And the way never so ill, It were not enough for mine offence; It is so grievous and so ill.. "Thy years are young, thy face is fair, Thy wits are weak, thy thoughts I am a woman, woe is me! Born to grief and irksome care. For my beloved, and well beloved, My wayward cruelty could kill: And though my tears will not avail, Most dearly I bewail him still. He was the flower of noble wights, None ever more sincere could be; And tenderly he loved me. I grew so proud his pain to see, Thought scorn of such a youth as he And grew so coy and nice to please, As woman's looks are often so, He might not kiss nor hand forsooth, Unless I will'd him so to do. Thus being wearied with delays To see I pitied not his grief, He got him to a secret place, And there he died without relief. And for his sake these weeds I wear, And sacrifice my tender age; And every day I'll beg my bread, Unto the town of Walsingham "Now go thy ways, and God before ! For He must ever guide thee still : Turn down that dale, the right hand path. And so, fair pilgrim, fare thee well!" SIR PATRICK SPENCE. [THIS is the Scottish ballad which Coleridge, in his "Dejection," calls "the grand old ballad of Sir Patrick Spence." This is also printed in Percy's "Reliques."] The king sits in Dumferling toune, O quhar will I get guid sailor, Up and spak an eldern knicht, Sat at the king's richt kne : Sir Patrick Spence is the best sailor That sails upon the se. The king has written a braid letter, And sign'd it wi' his hand; And sent it to Sir Patrick Spence, Was walking on the sand. The first line that Sir Patrick red, A loud lauch lauched he: The next line that Sir Patrick red, The teir blinded his ee. O quha is this has don this deid, O say na sae, my master deir, For I fear a deadlie storme. Late, late yestreen, I saw the new moone Wi' the auld moone in hir arme; And I feir, I feir, my dear master, That we will com to harme. O our Scots nobles were richt laith To weet their cork-heil'd schoone; But lang owre a' the play were play'd, Their hats they swam aboone. O lang, lang, may their ladies sit Wi' their fans into their hand, Or eir they see Sir Patrick Spence Cum sailing to the land. O lang, lang, may the ladies stand, Wi' their gold kems in their hair, To send me out this time o' the yeir, Have owre, have owre to Aberdour, To sail upon the se? Mak hast, mak hast, my mirry men all, Our guid schip sails the morne. It's fiftie fadom deep; And there lies guid Sir Patrick Spence, Wi' the Scots lords at his feit. |