Part 20 (1/2)

”I see,” said Mr. Fogo.

”Iss, sir. Why, the very fust day I tuk sarvice--I was a tiny tacker then--he says to me, 'Caleb, my boy, you'm lookin' all skin an' bones for the present, but there's no knawin' what Penh.e.l.lick beef and pudden may do for 'ee yet, ef 'tes eaten wi' a thankful heart.

Hows'ever, 'bout the work. I wants you to take the dree jacka.s.ses an' go to beach for ore-weed, an' as I likes to gie a good boy like you a vew privileges, you be busy an' carry so many seams [1] as you can, an' I'll gie drappence for ivery seam more'n twenty.'

”Well, sir, I worked like a Trojan, an' ha'f killed they jacka.s.ses; an' I tell 'ee 'twas busy all to carry dree-an'-twenty seam. In the eveling, arter work, I went to Lawyer Mennear an' axed 'n 'bout the nine-pence--I niver got ninepence so hard in all my born days.

When he paid me, he looked so sly, an' says he--

”' You'm a nation clever boy, you be, an' I doan't gridge 'ee the money. But now I sees what you _can_ do, of cou'se I shall 'spect 'ee to carry dree-an'-twenty seam ivery day, reg'lar: for the workman,' says he, 'es worthy of hes hire.'

”'Darn et!' thought I to mysel', 'this won't do;' an' I niver seed azackly the beef an' pudden th' ould man talked about. Hows'ever, I stayed wi' the psalmas-'untin' ould cadger, tho' et made me 'most 'mazed at times to hear the way he'd carry on down at the Meetin'

House 'bout the sen o' greed an' the like, an' all the time lookin'

round to see who owed 'n a happeny. 'My brethren,' he'd call out, 'my pore senful flock, ef you clings to your flocks an' herds, an'

tents an' dyed apparel, like onto Korah shall you be, an' like onto Dathan an' Abiram, so sure as I be sole agent for Carnaby's Bone Manure in this 'ere destrict.' 'Tes true, sir. An' then he'd rap out the hemn, 'Common metre, my brethren, an' Sister Tresidder'll gie the pitch--”

'Whativer, Lord, us lends to Thee Repaid a thousan'fold'll be, Then gladly will us gie to Thee.'

”An' I reckon that was 'bout the size o't. Aw, he was an anointed ould rascal.

”All the same, Lawyer Mennear was reckon'd a powerful wrastler en the sperrit by the rest o' the Church-Members.h.i.+p; on'y there was wan thing as went agen 'un, an' that was he hadn' but wan eye; tho' Maria Chirgwin, as was known to have had experience, an' was brought under conviction by th' ould man, told me that et made 'n luk the more terrifyin'--”

”Like Polyphemus,” put in Mr. Fogo.

”Polly which?”

”Never mind.”

”I disknowledged the surname. But niver mind, as you say, sir; feelin's es feelin's, an' th' ould Mennear's wan eye went mortal agen 'un. Not but what he wudn' turn et to account now an' then.

'Tummas doubted,' he said wan day, 'an' how was he convenced?

Why, by oracular demonstrashun--'”

”Ocular, Caleb.”

”Right you are, sir, an' thankye for the correcshun, as the boy said to the pupil-teacher; 'by oc-u-lar demonstrashun,' says he.

'P'raps you dunno what ocular demonstrashun es, my brethren.

Well, I'll tell 'ee. That's a wall, ain't et? An' I'm a preacher, arn't I? An' you be worms, bain't 'ee? Why, I can see that much tho' I _han't_ but wan eye. An' that's ocular demonstrashun.'

”But, as I was sayin', wan eye _es_ a wisht business, howsomever you may turn et up'ards an' call et your thorn i' the flesh, an' the likes; an' more'n a few o' the 'Rig'nal Seceders fell away from th'

ould man's Meetin' House, and became backsliders dro' fear o' being overlooked an' ill-wished, so they said. I reckon 'twas all quignogs, but et _did_ luk plaguey like th' evil eye, an' that there's no denyin'.

”Well, sir, matters went on i' this way for a brave time, an' the 'tendance got less, till Lawyer Mennear wos fairly at hes wits' end.

He talked a' weak-kneed brethren, an' 'puttin' your han's to the plough,' an' dreshed the pilm [2] out o' cush'n afore 'un, an'

kicked up a purty dido, till you cou'd hear the randivoose o' Sunday mornin's 'way over t'other side o' Carne hill; but 'twarn't no manner o' good. An' as for the childer at the Sunday-school--th' ould rapscallion laid powerful store by hes Sunday-school--'twas 'bear a hand ivery wan' to get mun to face that eye: an' you mou't clane their faces an' grease their hair as you wou'd, the mothers told me, an' see mun off 'pon the road to Meetin' House; but turn your back, an' they'd be mitchin' [3] in a brace o' shakes an' 'way to go for Coombe beach, an' playin' hidey-peep in their clane pinnyfores 'mong the rocks.

”Aw, 'twas shee-vo! 'mong the Church Members, an' no mistake; an' how 'twud ha' come round, there's no telling, ef et hadn' a-been for what Lawyer Mennear called a vouchsafement o' marcy. An' the way thicky vouchsafement comed about was this:

”Th' ould man was up to Plymouth wan day 'bout some shares he'd a-tuk in a tradin' schooner; for he'd a finger in most pies. Nuthin' i'

the way o' bus'ness comed amiss to'n. Like Nicholas Kemp, he'd occashun for all.”

”Who was Nicholas Kemp?” inquired Mr. Fogo.

”On'y a figger o' speech, sir. Well, ould Mennear had a-done bus'ness, an' was strollin' up Union Street 'long wi' his missus-- Aunt Deb'rah Mennear, as her name was--a fine, bowerly woman, but a bit ha'f-baked in her wits; put in wi' the bread, as they say, an'