Chapter 3

And 'taint the lissest bit o' use To tell 'em anything at all; They'll only laff, or else begin All manner o' hard names to call.

Praps arter all it 'tain't the truth, That one time's wusser than the t'other; Praps I'm a-gittin' old myself, And fare to talk like my old mother.

I shaan't dew nowt by talkin' so, I'd better try the good old plan, Of spakin' sparing of most folks, And dewin' all the good I can.

J. D.

II.

My father used to repeat one stanza of an old song; I wonder whether the remainder still exists in any living memory. That one stanza ran:--

"The roaring boys of Pakefield, Oh, how they all do thrive! They had but one poor parson, And him they buried alive."

Whether the prosperity of Pakefield was to be dated or derived from the fact of their burying their "one poor parson" is a matter of dangerous speculation, and had better be left in safe obscurity; else other places might be tempted to make trial of the successful plan. But can any one send a copy of the whole song?

From the same authority I give a stanza of another song:--

"The cackling old hen she began to collogue, Says she unto the fox, 'You're a stinking old rogue; Your scent it is so strong, I do wish you'd keep away;' The cackling old hen she began for to say."

The tune, as I still remember it, is as fine as the words--for fine they certainly are, as an honest expression of opinion, capable of a large application to other than foxes.

I cannot vouch for a like antiquity for the following sea-verses; but they are so good that I venture to append them to their more ancient brethren:--

"And now we haul to the 'Dog and Bell,' Where there's good liquor for to sell; In come old Archer with a smile, Saying, 'Drink, my lads, 'tis worth your while.'

Ah! but when our money's all gone and spent, And none to be borrowed nor none to be lent; In comes old Archer with a frown, Saying, 'Get up, Jack, let John sit down.'"

Alas, poor Jack! and John Countryman too, when the like result arrives.

J. D.

Fifteen years after my father had penned this note, and more than two years after his death, I received from a West Indian reader of 'Maga,' who had heard it sung by a naval officer (since deceased), the following version of the second sea-song:--

"Cruising in the Channel with the wind North-east, Our ship she sails nine knots at least; Our thundering guns we will let fly, We will let fly over the twinkling sky-- Huzza! we are homeward bound, Huzza! we are homeward bound.

And when we arrive at the Plymouth Dock, The girls they will around us flock, Saying, 'Welcome, Jack, with your three years' pay, For we see you are homeward bound to-day'-- Huzza! we are homeward bound, Huzza! we are homeward bound.

And when we come to the --- {42} Bar, Or any other port in so far, Old Okey meets us with a smile, Saying, 'Drink, my lads, 'tis worth your while'-- Huzza! we are homeward bound, Huzza! we are homeward bound.

Ah! but when our money's all gone and spent, And none to be borrowed, nor none to be lent, Old Okey meets us with a frown, Saying, 'Get up, Jack, let John sit down, For I see you are outward bound,' For, see, we are outward bound."

III. ONE OF JOHN DUTFEN'S "QUEERIES."

I am werry much obligated to yeou, Mr Editer, for printin' my lines. I hain't got no more at spresent, so I'll send yeou a queery instead. I axed our skule-master, "What's a queery?" and he saa, "Suffen {43a} queer," so I think I can sute yeou here.

When I was a good big chap, I lived along with Mr Cooper, of Thraanson. {43b} He was a big man; but, lawk! he was wonnerful paad over with rheumatics, that he was. I lived in the house, and arter I had done up my hosses, and looked arter my stock, I alluz went to bed arly. One night I h'ard {43c} my missus halloin' at the bottom of the stairs. "John," sez she, "yeou must git up di-rectly, and go for the doctor; yar master's took werry bad." So I hulled {43d} on my clothes, put the saddle on owd Boxer, and warn't long gittin to the doctor's, for the owd hoss stromed along stammingly, {43e} he did. When the doctor come, he saa to master, "Yeou ha' got the _lump-ague_ in yar lines; {43f} yeou must hiv a hot baath." "What's that?" sez master. "Oh!" sez the doctor, "yeou must hiv yar biggest tub full o' hot water, and laa in it ten minnits." Sune as he was gone, missus saa, "Dew yeou go and call Sam Driver, and I'll hit {44a} the copper." When we cum back, she saa, "Dew yeou tew {44b} take the mashin'-tub up-stairs, and when the water biles yeou cum for it." So, byne by we filled the tub, and missus saa, "John, dew yeou take yar master's hid; {44c} and Sam, yeou take his feet, and drop 'im in." We had a rare job to lift him, I warrant; but we dropt him in, and, O lawk! how he did screech!--yeou might ha' h'ard 'im a mile off. He splounced out o' the tub flop upon the floor, and dew all we could we coon't 'tice him in agin. "Yeou willans," sez he, "yeou've kilt me." But arter a bit we got him to bed, and he laa kind o' easy, till the doctor cum next mornin'. Then he towd the doctor how bad he was. The doctor axed me what we'd done. So I towd him, and he saa, "Was the water warm?" "Warm!" sez I, "'twould ommost ha' scalt a hog." Oh, how he did laff! "Why, John bor," sez he, "yeou must ha' meant to bile yar master alive." Howsomdiver, master lost the _lump-ague_ and nivver sed nothin' about the tub, 'cept when he saa to me sometimes kind o' joky, "John bor, dew yeou alluz kip {44d} out o' hot water."

JOHN DUTFEN. {44e}

This story has a sequel. My father told it once at the dinner-table of one of the canons in Norwich. Every one laughed more or less, all but one, the Rev. "Hervey Du Bois," a rural dean from the Fens. He alone made no sign. But he was staying in the house; and that night the Canoness was aroused from her sleep by a strange gurgling sound proceeding from his room. She listened and listened, till, convinced that their guest must be in a fit, she at last arose, and listened outside his door. A fit he was in--sure enough--of laughter. He was sitting up in bed, rocking backwards and forwards, and ever and again ejaculating, "Why, John bor, yeou must ha' meant to bile yar master alive." And then he went off into another roar.

IV. CAPTAIN WARD.

"That piece of song, That old and antique song we heard last night."

--'Twelfth Night,' II. iv.

This old song was lately taken down from the lips of an old Suffolk (Monk Soham) labourer, who has known it and sung it since he was a boy. The song is of much repute in the parish where he lives, and may possibly be already in print. At all events it is a genuine "old and antique" song, whose hero may have been one of the sea captains or rovers who continued their privateering in the Spanish Main and elsewhere, and upon all comers, long after all licence from the Crown had ceased. The Rainbow was the name of one of the ships which formed the English fleet when they defeated the Spanish Armada in 1588, and she was re-commissioned, apparently about 1618. The two verses in brackets are from the version of another labourer in my parish, who also furnished some minor _variae lectiones_, as "robber" for "rover," "Blake" for "Wake," &c.

RECTOR.

Come, all ye valiant soldiers That march to follow the drum, Let us go meet with Captain Ward When on the sea he come.

He is as big a rover As ever you did hear, Yeou hain't h'ard of such a rover For many a hundred year.

There was three ships come sailing From the Indies to the West, Well loaded with silks and satins And welwets of the best.

Who should they meet but Captain Ward, It being a bad meeting, He robbed them of all their wealth, Bid them go tell the King.

["Go ye home, go ye home," says Captain Ward, "And tell your King from me, If he reign King of the countrie, I will be King at Sea."]

Away went these three gallant ships, Sailing down of the main, Telling to the King the news That Ward at sea would reign.

The King he did prepare a ship, A ship of gallant fame, She's called the gallant Rainbow-- Din't yeou niver hear her name?

She was as well purwided As e'er a ship could be, She had three hundred men on board To bear her company.

Oh then the gallant Rainbow Sailed where the rover laid; "Where is the captain of your ship?" The gallant Rainbow said.

"Here am I," says Captain Ward, "My name I never deny; But if you be the King's good ship, You're welcome to pass by."

"Yes, I am one of the King's good ships, That I am to your great grief, Whilst here I understand you lay Playing the rogue and thief."

"Oh! here am I," says Captain Ward; "I value you not one pin; If you are bright brass without, I am true steel within."

At four o'clock o' the morning They did begin to fight, And so they did continue Till nine or ten at night.

[Says Captain Ward unto his men, "My boys, what shall we do? We have not got one shot on board, We shall get overthrow.]

"Fight you on, fight you on," says Captain Ward, "Your sport will pleasure be, And if you fight for a month or more Your master I will be."

Oh! then the gallant Rainbow Went raging down of the main, Saying, "There lay proud Ward at sea, And there he must remain."

"Captain Wake and Captain Drake, And good Lord Henerie, If I had one of them alive, They'd bring proud Ward to me."

Appended was this editorial note: "The date of Captain Ward is approximately established by Andrew Barker's 'Report of the two famous Pirates, Captain Ward and Danseker' (Lond. 1609, 4to), and by Richard Daburn's 'A Christian turn'd Turke, or the tragical Lives and Deaths of the two famous Pyrates, Ward and Dansiker. As it hath beene publickly acted' (Lond. 1612, 4to).

And the next week there was the following answer:--

"Having found that in Chappell's 'Popular Music of the Olden Time' there was mention made of a tune called 'Captain Ward,' I wrote to Mr Chappell himself. He says about the ballad: 'For "A famous sea-fight between Captain Ward and the Rainbow" see Roxburghe Collection, v. 3, fol. 56, printed for F. Coles, and another with printer's name cut off in the same volume, fol. 654; an edition in the Pepys Collection, v. 4, fol. 202, by Clarke Thackeray and Passinger; two in the Bayford, [643, m. 9 / 65] and [643, m. 10 / 78]. These are by W. Onbey, and the second in white letter. Further, two Aldermary Church Yard editions in Rox. v. 3, folios 652 and 861. The ballad has an Elizabethan cut about it, beginning, "Strike up, you lusty Gallants." If I remember rightly, Ward was a famous pirate of Elizabeth's reign, about the same time as Dansekar the Dutchman.'

"I went down myself to Magdalene, and saw the copy in the Pepysian Library there. It is entirely different from that in the 'Suffolk N. and Q.,' though at the same time there are slight resemblances in expression. As ballads they are quite distinct. I suppose the other copies to which Mr Chappell refers are like the Pepysian, which begins as he says, 'Strike up, ye lusty Gallants.'

"W. ALDIS WRIGHT.

"CAMBRIDGE."

V. A SOVEREIGN REMEDY.

Not many years since, not far from Ipswich, some practical agriculturists met--as, for all I know, they may meet now--at a Farmers' Club to discuss such questions as bear practically upon their business and interests. One evening the subject for discussion was, "How to cure hot yards," _i.e._, yards where the manure has become so heated as to be hurtful to the cattle's feet. Many remedies were suggested, some no doubt well worth trying, others dealing too much maybe in small-talk of acids and alkalis. None of the party was satisfied that a cure had been found which stood the test of general experience. Then they asked an elderly farmer, who had preserved a profound silence through all the discussion, what he would recommend. His answer was very true and to the point. "Gentlemen," he said, "yeou shu'nt have let it got so."

HIPPICUS.

VI. THE ONLY DARTER.

A SUFFOLK CLERGYMAN'S REMINISCENCE. {52a}

Our young parson said to me t'other daa, "John," sez he, "din't yeou nivver hev a darter?" "Sar," sez I, "I had one once, but she ha' been dead close on thatty years." And then I towd him about my poor mor. {52b}

"I lost my fust wife thatty-three years ago. She left me with six bors and Susan. She was the owdest of them all, tarned sixteen when her mother died. She was a fine jolly gal, with lots of sperit. I coon't be alluz at home, and tho' I'd nivver a wadd {52c} to saa aginst Susan, yet I thowt I wanted some one to look arter her and the bors. Gals want a mother more than bors. So arter a year I married my second wife, and a rale good wife she ha' bin to me. But Susan coon't git on with her. She'd dew {52d} what she was towd, but 'twarn't done pleasant, and when she spook she spook _so_ short. My wife was werry patient with her; but dew all she could, she nivver could git on with Susan.

"I'd a married sister in London, whue cum down to see us at Whissuntide. She see how things fared, and she saa to me, 'John,' sez she, 'dew yeou let Susan go back with me, and I'll git her a good place and see arter her.' So 'twas sattled. Susan was all for goin', and when she went she kiss't me and all the bors, but she nivver sed nawthin' to my wife, 'cept just 'Good-bye.' She fared to git a nice quite {53} place; but then my sister left London, and Susan's missus died, and so she had to git a place where she could. So she got a place where they took in lodgers, and Susan and her missus did all the cookin' and waitin' between 'em. Susan sed arterwards that 'twarn't what she had to dew, but the runnin' up-stairs; that's what killt her. There was one owd gentleman, who lived at the top of the house. He'd ring his bell, and if she din't go di-reckly, he'd ring and ring agen, fit to bring the house down. One daa he rung three times, but Susan was set fast, and coon't go; and when she did, he spook so sharp, that it wholly upset her, and she dropt down o' the floor all in a faint. He hollered out at the top o' the stairs; and sum o' the fooks cum runnin' up to see what was the matter. Arter a bit she cum round, and they got her to bed; but she was so bad that they had to send for the doctor. The owd gentleman was so wexed, he sed he'd paa for the doctor as long as he could; but when the doctor sed she was breedin' a faver, nawthing would satisfy her missus but to send her to the horspital, while she could go.

"So she went into the horspital, and laa five weeks and din't know nobody. Last she begun to mend, and she sed that the fooks there were werry kind. She had a bed to herself in a big room with nigh twenty others. Ivry daa the doctor cum round, and spook to 'em all in tarn. He was an owdish gentleman, and sum young uns cum round with him. One mornin' he saa to Susan, 'Well, my dear,' sez he, 'how do yeou feel to- day?' She saa, 'Kind o' middlin', sir.' She towd me that one o' the young gentlemen sort o' laffed when he h'ard her, and stopped behind and saa to her, 'Do yeou cum out o' Suffolk?' She saa, 'Yes; what, do yeou know me?' She was _so_ pleased! He axed her where she cum from, and when she towd him, he saa, 'I know the clargyman of the parish.' He'd a rose in his button-hole, and he took it out and gov it her, and he saa, 'Yeou'll like to hev it, for that cum up from Suffolk this mornin'.' Poor mor, she was _so_ pleased! Well, arter a bit she got better, and the doctor saa, 'My dear, yeou must go and git nussed at home. That'll dew more for yeou than all the doctors' stuff here.'

"She han't no money left to paa for her jarney. But the young gentleman made a gatherin' for her, and when the nuss went with her to the station, he holp her into the cab, and gov her the money. Whue he was she din't know, and I don't now, but I alluz saa, 'God bless him for it.'

"One mornin' the owd parson--he was yar father--sent for me, and he saa, 'John,' sez he, 'I ha' had a letter to say that Susan ha' been in the horspital, but she is better now, and is cummin' home to-morrow. So yeou must meet her at Halser, {55} and yeou may hiv my cart.' Susan coon't write, so we'd nivver h'ard, sin' her aunt went away. Yeou may s'pose how I felt! Well, I went and met her. O lawk, a lawk! how bad she did look! I got her home about five, and my wife had got a good fire, and ivrything nice for her, but, poor mor! she was wholly beat. She coon't eat nawthin'. Arter a bit, she tuk off her bonnet, and then I see she han't no hair, 'cept a werry little. That wholly beat me, she used to hev such nice hair. Well, we got her to bed, and for a whole week she coon't howd up at all. Then she fare to git better, and cum down-stairs, and sot by the fire, and begun to pick a little. And so she went on, when the summer cum, sometimes better and sometimes wuss. But she spook werry little, and din't seem to git on no better with my wife. Yar father used to cum and see her and read to her. He was werry fond of her, for he had knowed her ivver sin' she was born. But she got waker and waker, and at last she coon't howd up no longer, but took wholly to her bed. How my wife did wait upon her! She'd try and 'tice her to ate suffen, {56a} when yar father sent her a bit o' pudden. I once saa to him, 'What do yeou think o' the poor mor?' 'John,' sez he, 'she's werry bad.' 'But,' sez I, 'dew she know it?' 'Yes,' sez he, 'she dew; but she een't one to saa much.' But I alluz noticed, she seem werry glad to see yar father.

"One day I'd cum home arly; I'd made one jarney. {56b} So I went up to see Susan. There I see my wife laad outside the bed close to Susan; Susan was kind o' strokin' her face, and I h'ard her saa, 'Kiss me, mother dear; yeou're a good mother to me.' They din't see me, so I crep' down-stairs, but it made me werry comforble.

"Susan's bed laa close to the wall, so that she could alluz make us know at night if she wanted anything by jest knockin'. One night we h'ard her sing a hymn. She used to sing at charch when she was a little gal, but I nivver h'ard her sing so sweetsome as she did then. Arter she'd finished, she knockt sharp, and we went di-reckly. There she laa--I can see her now--as white as the sheets she laa in. 'Father,' sez she, 'am I dyin'?' I coon't spake, but my wife sed, 'Yeou're a-dyin', dear.' 'Well, then,' sez she, ''tis bewtiful.' And she lookt hard at me, hard at both of us; and then lookt up smilin', as if she see Some One.

"She was the only darter I ivver had."

JOHN DUTFEN.

Is it extravagant to believe that this simple story, told by a country parson, is worth whole pages of learned arguments against Disestablishment? {57} Anyhow, to support such arguments, I will here cite an ancient ditty of my father's. He had got it from "a true East Anglian, of Norfolk lineage and breeding," but the exegesis is wholly my father's own.

VII.

Robin Cook's wife {58a} she had an old mare, {58b} Humpf, humpf, hididdle, humpf! And if you'd but seen her, Lord! how you'd have stared, {58c} Singing, "Folderol diddledol, hidum humpf."

This old mare she had a sore back, {58d} Humpf, &c. And on her sore back there was _hullt_ an old sack, {58e} Singing, &c.

Give the old mare some corn in the sieve, {59a} Humpf, &c. And 'tis hoping God's husband (_sic_) the old mare may live, Singing, &c.

This old mare she chanced for to die, {59b} Humpf, &c. And dead as a nit in the roadway she lie, {59c} Singing, &c.

All the dogs in the town _spook_ for a bone, {59d} Humpf, &c. All but the Parson's dog, {59e} he went wi' none, Singing, "Folderol diddledol, hidum humpf."

VIII. "MASTER CHARLEY."

A SUFFOLK LABOURER'S STORY.

The Owd Master at the Hall had two children--Mr James and Miss Mary. Mr James was ivver so much owder than Miss Mary. She come kind o' unexpected like, and she warn't but a little thing when she lost her mother. When she got owd enough Owd Master sent her to a young ladies' skule. She was there a soot o' years, and when she come to staa at home, she _was_ such a pretty young lady, _that_ she was. She was werry fond of cumpany, but there warn't the lissest bit wrong about her. There was a young gentleman, from the sheres, who lived at a farm in the next parish, where he was come to larn farmin'. He was werry fond of her, and though his own folks din't like it, it was all sattled that he was soon to marry her. Then he hear'd suffen about her, which warn't a bit true, and he went awaa, and was persuaded to marry somebody else. Miss Mary took on bad about it, but that warn't the wust of it. She had a baby before long, and he was the father on't.

O lawk, a lawk! how the Owd Master did break out when he hear'd of it! My mother lived close by, and nussed poor Miss Mary, so I've h'ard all about it. He woun't let the child stop in the house, but sent it awaa to a house three miles off, where the woman had lost her child. But when Miss Mary got about, the woman used to bring the baby--he was "Master Charley"--to my mother's. One daa, when she went down, my mother towd her that he warn't well; so off she went to see him. When she got home she was late, and the owd man was kep' waitin' for his dinner. As soon as he see her, he roared out, "What! hev yeou bin to see yar bastard?" "O father," says she, "yeou shoun't saa so." "Shoun't saa so," said he, "shoun't I? I can saa wuss than that." And then he called her a bad name. She got up, nivver said a wadd, but walked straight out of the front door. They din't take much notiz at fust, but when she din't come back, they got scared, and looked for her all about; and at last they found her in the moot, at the bottom of the orchard.

O lawk, a lawk!

The Owd Master nivver could howd up arter that. 'Fore that, if he was put out, yeou could hear 'im all over the farm, a-cussin' and swearin'. He werry seldom spook to anybody now, but he was alluz about arly and late; nothin' seemed to tire him. 'Fore that he nivver went to charch; now he went reg'ler. But he wud saa sumtimes, comin' out, "Parson's a fule." But if anybody was ill, he bod 'em go up to the Hall and ax for suffen. {62} There was young Farmer Whoo's wife was werry bad, and the doctor saa that what she wanted was London poort. So he sent my father to the marchant at Ipswich, to bring back four dozen. Arter dark he was to lave it at the house, but not to knock. They nivver knew where ta come from till arter he died. But he fare to get waker, and to stupe more ivry year.

Yeou ax me about "Master Charley." Well, he growed up such a pretty bor. He lived along with my mother for the most part, and Mr James was so fond of him. He'd come down, and plaa and talk to him the hour togither, and Master Charley would foller 'im about like a little dawg.

One daa they was togither, and Owd Master met 'em. "James," said he, "what bor is that alluz follerin' yeou about?" He said, "It's Mary's child." The owd man tarned round as if he'd bin shot, and went home all himpin' along. Folks heared him saa, "Mary's child! Lord! Lord!" When he got in, he sot down, and nivver spook a wadd, 'cept now and then, "Mary's child! Lord! Lord!" He coun't ate no dinner; but he towd 'em to go for my mother; and when she come, he saa to her, "Missus, yeou must git me to bed." And there he laa all night, nivver slapin' a bit, but goin' on saain, "Mary's child! _Lord_! _Lord_!" quite solemn like. Sumtimes he'd saa, "I've bin a bad un in my time, I hev."