n Silas approached the door of the Rainbow, had, as usual, b

he beer-drinkers, chiefly men in fustian jackets and smock-frocks, kept their eyelids down and rubbed their hands across their mouths, as if their draughts of beer were a funereal duty attended with embarrassing sadness. At last Mr

t was a fine beast you

isposed to answer rashly. He gave a few puffs before he

ve thaw, the silence set

ier, taking up the thread of discour

andlord looked at the butcher, as the person

r, in his good-humoured husky

o it is has got the red Durhams o' this country-side. And she'd a white star on her brow, I'll bet a penny?" T

lowly, considering that he was giving a de

; "if I don't know Mr. Lammeter's cows, I should like to know who does-that's all. And as for the

the mild butcher's conversati

long ribs-I'm for cutting 'em short myself; but I don't quarrel with 'em. All I say is, it's a

ued the farrier, angrily; "and it was Mr. Lammeter's cow

none-not if a man was to swear himself black: he's no meat o' mine, nor none o' my bargains. A

'rhaps you aren't pig-headed; and p'rhaps you didn't say the cow was a red Durham; an

s being Mr. Lammeter's, I say nothing to that; but this I say, as the Rainbow's the Rainbow. And for the matter o' that, if the talk is to be o' the L

small-featured young man who sat opposite him, held his white head on one side, and twirled his thumbs with an air

now, and gev up to the young uns. Ask them as have been to school

ty clerk, with an air of anxious propriety, "I'm now

t's right,

ractise wh

ooking man, an excellent wheelwright in his week-day capacity, but on Sundays leader of the choir. He winked, as he spoke, at two of the company, wh

deration-"Mr. Winthrop, if you'll bring me any proof as I'm in the wrong, I'm not the man to say I won't alter. But there's

ight there, Tookey: there's allays two 'pinions; there's the 'pinion a man has of himsen, and there's the 'p

up the office of parish-clerk by Mr. Crackenthorp's desire, whenever your infirmities should make you unf

"Red Rovier"; didn't he, Mr. Macey? It's a nat'ral gift. There's my little lad Aaron, he's got a gift-he can sing a tune off straight, like a throstle. But as for you, Master Tookey

of joke to the company at the Rainbow, and Ben Winthrop's ins

's a consperacy to turn me out o' the choir, as I shouldn't share the Christmas money-th

your share to keep out of it-that's what we'll do. The

nds here, I hope. We must give and take. You're both right and you're both wrong, as I say. I agree wi' Mr. Macey here, as there's two opinions; and if mi

f, and never went to church, as being of the medical profession, and likely to be in requisition for delicate cows. But the b

be such a singer, and got a brother as is known for the first fiddler in this country-side. Eh, it's a pity but what Solomon lived

k as anybody can tell. But them things are dying out, as I tell Solomon every time he comes round; there's no

eter's father come into these parts, d

able. We heared tell as he'd sold his own land to come and take the Warrens, and that seemed odd for a man as had land of his own, to come and rent a farm in a strange place. But they said it was along of his wife's dying; though there's reasons in things as nobody knows on-that's pretty much what I've made out; yet some folks are so wise, they'll find you fifty reasons straight off, and all the while the real reason's winking at 'em in the corner, and they niver see't. Howsomever, it was soon seen as we'd got a ne

is narrative in instalments, expecting

r. Macey, so as you were likely to remember that ma

ust be married in Janiwary, which, to be sure, 's a unreasonable time to be married in, for it isn't like a christening or a burying, as you can't help; and so Mr. Drumlow-poor old gentleman, I was fond on him-but when he come to put the questions, he put 'em by the rule o' contrairy, like, and he says, "Wilt thou have this

enough, didn't you, Mr. Macey? You we

rairy?" and my head went working like a mill, for I was allays uncommon for turning things over and seeing all round 'em; and I says to myself, "Is't the meanin' or the words as makes folks fast i' wedlock?" For the parson meant right, and the bride and bridegroom meant right. But then, when I come to think on it, meanin' goes but a little way i' most things, for

that, didn't you, Mr. M

r the words-it's the regester does it-that's the glue." So you see he settled it easy; for parsons and doctors know everything by heart, like, so as they aren't worreted wi' thinking what's the rights and wrongs o' things, as I'n been many

tune, and at certain points the puffing of the pipes was momentarily suspended, that the listeners might give their wh

retty fortin, didn't they say,

s done to keep it whole. For there was allays a talk as nobody could get rich

ell as you how it come to be Charity

do, but he must ride and ride-though the lad was frighted, they said. And it was a common saying as the father wanted to ride the tailor out o' the lad, and make a gentleman on him-not but what I'm a tailor myself, but in respect as God made me such, I'm proud on it, for "Macey, tailor", 's been wrote up over our door since afore the Queen's heads went out on the shillings. But Cliff, he was ashamed o' being called a tailor, and he was sore vexed as his riding was laughed at, and nobody o' the gentlefolks hereabout could abide him. Howsomever, the poor lad got sickly and died, and the father didn't live long after him, for he got queerer nor ever, and they said he u

stables than what folks see by daylig

ses, nor the cracking o' the whips, and howling, too, if it's tow'rt daybreak. "Cliff's Holiday" has been the name of it ever sin' I were a boy; that's to say, some said as it was the holiday Old Harry

ord, turning to the farrier, who was swelling with im

spirit in the company, and

out wi' me any dry night in the pasture before the Warren stables, as we shall neither see lights nor hear noises, if it isn't the blowing of our

rheumatise if he stood up to 's neck in the pool of a frosty night. It 'ud be fine fun for a man to win his bet as he'

tapping his thumbs together, "he's no call to lay any bet-let him go and stan' by himself-

t to make out the truth about ghos'es: I know it a'ready. But I'm not against a bet-everything fair and open. Let any man bet me ten

wlas, and see you do it? That's

e to hear any man stand up and say I want to bet unfair.

ne o' my bargains, and I aren't a-going to try and 'bate your price. If anybody '

at him," said the farrier. "But I'm afraid o' neither man nor g

't smell, not if she'd the strongest o' cheese under her nose. I never see'd a ghost myself; but then I says to myself, "Very like I haven't got the smell for 'em." I mean, putting a ghost for a smell, or else contrairiways. And so, I'm for holding with both sides; for, as I

as not well received by the farrier-

id ever a ghost give a man a black eye? That's what I should like to know. If ghos'es want me to believe in '

ant!" said Mr. Macey, in deep disgust at the farrier's crass