"
"A trusty!" said Mr. Hill; "what is that, pray?"
"A big coat, sure, plase your honour: there was a frieze big coat lying
in a corner, which I had my eye upon, to trate myself to: I having, as I
then thought, money in my little purse enough for it. Well, I won't
trouble your honour's honour with telling of you now how I lost my purse
in the field, as I found after; but about the big coat--as I was saying,
I just lifted it off the ground to see would it fit me; and, as I swung
it round, something, plase your honour, hit me a great knock on the
shins: it was in the pocket of the coat, whatever it was, I knew; so I
looks into the pocket to see what was it, plase your honour, and out I
pulls a hammer and a dog-collar: it was a wonder, both together, they did
not break my shins entirely: but it's no matter for my shins now; so,
before the boy came down, I just out of idleness spelt out to myself the
name that was upon the collar: there were two names, plase your honour,
and out of the first there were so many letters hammered out I could make
nothing of it at all, at all; but the other name was plain enough to
read, any way, and it was Hill, plase your honour's honour, as sure as
life: Hill, now."
This story was related in tones and gestures which were so new and
strange to English ears and eyes, that even the solemnity of our verger
gave way to laughter.
Pages:
76
77
78
79
80
81
82
83
84
85
86
87
88
89
90
91
92
93
94
95
96
97
98
99
100