gone and

fellers off as he 'd cotch'd poach'n, when 'a might ĥa' had 'em up. So 'a says to 'un, This here wunt do, Dan'l, thee must look more sharp.' 'Well, I'm sure, Sir,' Dan'l says, 'your game's as well preserved as e'er a gentleman's in the county.' And so 'twas, for Dan'l, tho' a wouldn't go inform'n agin the poor fellers, what does he do? 'A goes his rounds reg'lar, warns every feller off as he sees, and wheres'ever he finds a wire,-Dan'l know'd precious well where that was like to be-'a pulls 'un up. Took care, too, to shoot down all the varmant, and all that. But this warn't enough for Pa'ason; and one day when it come to his ears that Dan'l had let a feller off, Tom Crawley 'twas-Dan'l was a sweetheart of his sister's- Dan'l,' 'a says, 'you wunt suit me no longer you and I must part next quarter. • Very well, Sir,' Dan'l says, 'just as you please.' Well, hows'ever Dan'l was to stay out the quarter. Pa'ason hisself went and informed agin Tom Crawley, and Tom got fined; bein' no more than just able to pay, and out of work, his wife and young 'uns was well-nigh starved; and Tom was heerd to swear that he 'd sarve the Pa'ason out. In the meantime Pa'ason, more and more determined to put down poach'n, says to Dan'l, Tell 'ee what 'tis, Mas'r Dan'l, I've made up my mind them there fellows shan't escape as they've been a doin' of. Just you go now up to Natley Copse and thereabouts, and you set a lot o' steel-traps and spring-guns there-I'll be down upon the rascals.' 6 Beg your pardon, Sir,' says Dan'l; but I thinks 'taint hardly Christian-like to take a poor feller's life, or maim 'un, for the sake of a head of game.' You do what I tells ye, Dan'l,' says the Fa'ason, and don't give me no answers. Very well, Sir,' says Dan'l, 'I s'pose you'll have the hu-mane man-traps set; not them with they great teeth as cuts a feller's leg in half, nigh.' 'I wunt have no such thing,' says the Pa'ason; them as chooses to trespass on my property may take the consequences.' 'Very well, Sir,' says Dan'l; what you orders must be done in coorse ;-but I thinks, savun your Reverence, if I was a Pa'ason'-'Don't give me none of your sarce,' says Pa'ason; you go and do as I bid ye.' Away goes Dan'l, and down 'a comes here, in this very room, and tells the whole story.

6

"Did 'a though ?" exclaimed several voices.

I

"Ah! yes 'a did-in this very spot. Lor' ha' marcy! recollects it as if 'twas but yesterday. Who should be here at

the very time but Tom Crawley's self? They smokes a pipe or so, and by 'm by Tom Crawley gets Dan'l Beck into a corner, and there they falls too a whisper'n."

"What about ?" said Farmer Snodbrook.

:

"Couldn't hear what 'twas about; but guessed arterwards. At furst Dan'l seemed to shake his head a bit; but at last a'pea'd to come in to what Tom said; and in about an hour away they went together. Towards the arternoon, Tom comes back alone, and we says to un, Where hast bin, Tom?' Says, I've bin up to Natley Copse 'long a' Dan'l.' 'What's bin doin' of?' we axes. Doin' of?' answers Tom; 'help'n a' Dan'l Beck to set steel-traps and spring-guns.' 'What you, Tom!' we says. Never you mind,' says Tom. 'I've got my reasons for so doin'.' • What reasons?' says we. 'Wait till you knows,' answers Tom Crawley with that he up and off. "The Pa'ason had gone out that day to see about some tithes, and was to return in the evenin'. This here was in September. Well, goin' along, just at dusk, by the footpath across Mr. Lovell's field as joined his property, he sees a feller in a smockfrock with summut that looked like a gun in his hand, skulk'n under the hazels. Afore a' got close enough to see who 'twas, for the man's face was muffled up, the chap begins to make off. Hallo you! stop there,' sings out the Pa'ason. At which the feller only began to walk faster, and at last to run; Pa'ason arter him. The Pa'ason chevy'd 'un a matter of a hundred yards as far as a stile as led into his copse, and by that time had got hard upon him-within ten paces. The feller got over the stile, and when he'd done that he gave a hop, skip and a jump, and then cut on along the path through the copse. Pa'ason gets over the stile, too, and bolts off again arter 'un."

Here Mr. Turner paused, and took a few whiffs of tobacco. "Well, Jack, did a' catch 'un ?" demanded the host.

"No," answered Jack Turner, "he didn't. For a very good reason, which was, that he got cotched hisself."

"How d'ye mean ?" said Mr. Budd.

66

Why, in one of his own man-traps. Afore he 'd gone another yard, snap up it flew; and there was Pa'ason as fast as a feller in the stocks.

The Lily Roarer resounded with a hoarse hearty laugh.

"Sarved 'un right; though, mind ye," observed Farmer Stares, "I've know'd the teeth o' one of them gins meet in a man's leg." ""Twarn't quite so bad as that, neither," said Jack Turner;

"for this here was a hu-mane man-trap arter all. It punished the Pa'ason smartish, however, for all that, and there he was holler'n and giv'n tongue for nigh three hours. Some said that there was they who heer'd 'un and know'd where 'a was; but chose to let 'un bide. The best of 't all was, that when at last 'a did make somebody hear 'un, it turn'd out to be Will Ford the constable comin' home with another feller, both the wuss for liquor. They didn't know 'un, and he couldn't make 'em know 'un, so when they'd took 'un out they lugg'd 'un off, 'spite of all his storm'n and scuffl'n, to the Cage; and blest if they didn't lock Pa'ason up in Cage all night! Lor' ha' marcy, what a row and a laugh there was next morn'n! Pa'ason had cotch'd the rheumatis and hurt the leaders of his leg in the trap, and precious mad he was besides. Did 'un good though; never set no more steel-traps and spring-guns. He didn't know no better his self than that 'twas all a accident; but there was them as did." “Know'd what, Jack?" exclaimed his auditors.

66

Why know'd as them as did it all was Dan'l Beck and Tom Crawley. Tom own'd a long time arterward as 'twas he that 'ticed Pa'ason into trap."

66

Ah!" moralised Mr. Purkis, " it only shows the truth of the old sayin', that them as digs pits for other folks, often falls into 'em themselves."

66

"So it do, neighbour," said Farmers Snodbrook and Stares. Wonderful," exclaimed the miller. As it was in the beginning, is now and ever shall be!"

"So much," said Jack Turner, "for the Parson's Gamekeeper. Now, arter all that, let's have another drap o' beer."

A CASE AT SESSIONS.

YESTERDAY, at the Sessions held in Buckingham,
The Rev. Simon Shutwood, famed for tucking ham
And capon into his appointed man,
Gravely discust a deadly breach of law,
And then committed to the county jail
(After a patient hearing) William Flail :

For that he, Flail, one day last week,
Was seen maliciously to sneak

And bend his body by the fence
Of his own garden, and from thence
Abstract, out of a noose, a hare,
Which he unlawfully found there,
Against the peace (as may be seen
In Burn and Blackstone) of the Queen.
He, questioned thereupon, in short,
Could give no better reason for 't
Than that his little boys and he
Did often in the morning see
Said hare, and sundry other hares,
Nibbling on certain herbs of theirs.
Teddy, the seventh of the boys,
Counted twelve rows, fine young savoys,
Bit to the ground by them, and out
Of ne'er a plant a leaf to sprout:

And Sam, the youngest lad, did think

He saw a couple at a pink.

"Come!" cried the Reverend, "Come, confess!"

Flail answered, "I will do no less.

Puss we did catch; Puss we did eat;

It was her turn to give the treat.

Nor overmuch was there for eight o' us
With a half-gallon o' potatoes:
Eight; for our Prue lay sick abed,
And poor dear Bessy with the dead."

"We can not listen to such idle words,"
The Reverend cried: "The hares are all my
Have you no more, my honest friend, to say

Lord's.

Why we should not commit you, and straightway ?”.
Whereat Will Flail
Grew deadly pale,

And cried "If you are so severe on me,

An ignorant man, and poor as poor can be,

O Mister Shutwood, what would you have done
If you had caught God's blessed only Son,
When he broke off (in land not His they say)
That ear of barley on the Sabbath day?
Sweet Jesus! in the prison He had died,
And never for our sins been crucified."

"Constable! take that man down stairs,
He quotes the Scripture and eats hares."

W. S. L

CAT-AND-FIDDLE MORALITIES.

BY THE EDITOR.

FOR fifteen years had the large wooden arm-chair of the Catand-Fiddle been consecrated to the use of Captain Bam. He would sit in it as it were a throne; and the customary guests of the hostelry paid him affectionate loyalty. He had won all hearts by his odd, kind ways; he had become the familiar oracle of all by his strange, yet wise sayings. He had, too, the rare and happy knack of so mixing his wisdom with his drollery, that when men laughed and swallowed his jest, they also, like children cheated with sweetened physic, swallowed something that in proper season would do them hearty good. And then there was a mystery about Captain Bam; and, at times, mystery is a sort of sauce to human character. It will now and then give a strange relish to what without it would be insipid common-place. Not that it was so with Captain Bam. Certainly not: but the mystery was this. Fifteen years before on a sharp, wintry afternoon he crossed the threshold of the Cat-and-Fiddle. He carried a small leathern pack, and appeared otherwise appointed for a long pilgrimage. It was, we say, sharp, blighting weather, and Captain Bam called hastily for a mug of ale. "A mug of ale, and directly," said Captain Bam, "for I can't stop a minute." The ale was brought, and the Captain hastily took a long draught thereof. He then drew his breath, and a smile as from the very roots of his heart broke over his face, and his eye strangely glimmered and twinkled upon the landlord. Eureka!" said Captain Bam, and the host looked. “Eureka!” again exclaimed the Captain. "Take my pack," he said, in a voice trembling with the fulness of satisfaction, "take my pack—I will rest here."

And Captain Bam-his pack removed-sank in the large armchair. It seemed that his travels were ended; that, in a happy moment, he had accomplished the purpose of his life; that all his future existence would be an appointed state of rest. There was a little wooden nook-a sort of summer-house, at the end of a long garden-which, after few words, he hired of the host;