less, that blocks the seaward exit of a narrow coombe. A little stream tumbles down this coombe towards the "Hauen

the nose most abhors, the eye is delighted by jumbled houses, crazy stairways leading to green doors, a group of children dabbling in the mud at low tide, a congregation of white gulls, a

or from the road, and prevented the inmates from breaking their necks as they stepped over its threshold. Even as it was, Old Zeb had acquired a habit of singing out "Ware heads!" to the wayfarers whenever he chan

t Indiaman, stood sentry by the gate and hung forward over the road, to the discomfiture of unwarned and absent-minded bagmen. The path to the door was guarded by a low fence of split-bamboo baskets that had once contained sugar from Batavia; a coffee bag from the wreck of a Dutch barque

of the Gulf Stream. Uncle Issy, passing up the road at nine o'clock, halted by the Cherokee to pass a word with its proprietor, who

; how be 'ee, thi

thankee,

's Coden

harmin',

ther; the gulls be comin' b

rrible topsy-turvy the seasons begin to run, in my old age. Here's May in Jan

hink 'pon what I wanted to say; for I'd a notion that I wanted to speak, cruel bad, but cudn' lay hand on't. So at last I takes heart an' says 'Mornin', I says, beginni

rned round, that you was lookin' no better tha

e night to spekilate thereon. For I felt it very curious there shud he three

an out-o'-t

live to see the like, I'd ha' called 'ee a liar; an' yet here I be a-talkin' away, an' t

ut what's t

s Zebedee Minards,' you might ha' blown me down wi' a puff; an' says I to mysel', wakin' u

der don't 'ee mak

stion for another fifteen seconds,

ed Zeb, why did 'ee

on his visgy began to contemplate the opposite slope of the coombe, as if

d, "folks may say what they like o' your wits, Uncle, an' talk o' your looks bein

nger," said the old

ad my reasons

ut rabbet me it I can

' my finger, an' we'll call en by the nearest name I hits on.' So we did. When we tuk en to church, tho', there was a pretty shape. 'Name this cheeld,' says Pa'son Babbage. 'Selah,' says I, that bein' the word we'd settled. 'Selah?' says he: 'pack o' stuff! that ai

-like history. The wonder is, the self-same fix don't

ung Zeb's grey mare hove in sight, with Young Zeb's green cart, and Young Zeb himself standing up in it, w

up the mare; "'mornin', Un

n. Whither away?-as

Issy; "for the pilchards be all

taken a house for himself-a neat cottage with a yard and stable, farther up the co

suppose, as befits

vin' in to Mister Pennyway's shop o' purpose to fetch it afore it be snapped up, for 'tis a captivatin' artic

a grand match you'm makin', an' you ma

high," put i

about en," Old Zeb went on, "let alone a legac

the young man, to sh

nd then went on, dropping his voice, "As between naybours, I'm fain to say she d

r head-a tall, angular woman, of severe deportment. Her husband's bulletin, it is

n landed?" she i

nor yet

me I out for to see? Was it to pass the time o' day wi' an ag

y yards up the road, and still fleeing, with his head bent a

e to see you, moth

w you've

reckon, my son,"

voice above, "as afore your legacy came. 'Tis o

d up his mare a

See 'ee up to Sheba this

e effort hard to sustain. Moreover, he felt uneasy about the stranger. Fate must be intending mischief, he fancied, when it led him to rescue a man who so strangely happened to bear his own name. The fellow, too, was still at Sheba, being nursed back to strength; and Zeb d

fulness, glancing up towards Sheba farm, and then along the high-road, as if uncertain. The ma

the town-place, and coming on Mary Jane, who

aister an' the very man I seed i

'm

t' third time he flew. 'Shall have a sweet'eart, Sunday, praise the Lord,' thinks I; 'wonder who 'tis? Anyway, 'tis a comfort he'll be high 'pon his pins, like Nanny Painter's hens, for mine be all the pu

way,

handled knives to be took out o' blue-butter 'gainst this

t I'll believe

ndsome jowter i' that new cart. If I were you, I'd be

Farmer Tresidder's, that made up in boots for its shortcomings elsewhere, was addressing the farmer, Ruby, and Jim Lewarne, who heard him with lively attention. In

w, or the next day, I go; and the chances are that we never meet again in this world. But 'twould be a pleasant thought to carry off to the ends of the earth that

im Lewarne, who was the only hostile listener, perhaps be

our tongue!"

cks a walking-stick out of half-a-dozen or more in the hall, and goes out with you to take a look at the farm. On his way he notes many things. He sees (you'll excuse me, Farmer, but I can't help it) that you're all behind the world, and the land is yielding less than half of what it ought. Have you ever seen a book by Lord Dundonald on the connection between Agriculture and Chemistry? N

rc

and but for the chance of this spud and a lucky thistle, I might have walked over it a score of times without guessing its

ou lie enticin

at ore exactly I can't tell till I've streamed it: lead, I fancy, with a trace

of the field. It came from Young Zeb, the upper part of whose person, a

b-y-

father, wheeling round sharply. "W

bout that chest

ong round by

to Liskeard, if Ruby thinks nine-an'-six too m

anger, just loud enough for Ruby t

w-lived chap, mister, as s

n't, the least idea at this distance. Exc

step that seemed to cost him some pain.

g Zeb, "but 'tis time Ruby made her mind up, for Mister P

easantest smile, "but it is time I thanked the friend who saved my life on Mo

ing hotly. "I'm glad to mark ye lookin' so

please y

stranger, with his bold features and easy conciliating carriage, had the advantage. It is

w you will, the words be winnin' enow. But be danged,

, like kissin' the wrong maid. This here surpassin' young friend o' mine was

o' drawers?" interrupted Zeb in dudgeon, with

, I don't care if I see no trace of 'ee ti

Young Zeb, and turned the mare. "Cl'k,

s head as it passed down the line of the hedge. "What a messenger! He seems eaten up with desire to get

am," answered Ruby; "because I'm go

-e-

act, the stranger had