“‘Hope to God,’ says I to myzell, ’poor Tom wun’t coom here to-day:  arl up with her, if ’a doeth:  and who be there to suckzade ‘un?’ Mark me now, all these charps was good to shutt ’un, as her coom crass the watter; the watter be waide enow there and stony, but no deeper than my knee-place.

“‘Thee cas’n goo no vurder,’ Bill Blacksmith saith to me:  ’nawbody ’lowed to crass the vord, until such time as Faggus coom; plaise God us may mak sure of ‘un.’

“‘Amen, zo be it,’ says I; ’God knoweth I be never in any hurry, and would zooner stop nor goo on most taimes.’

“Wi’ that I pulled my vittles out, and zat a horsebarck, atin’ of ’em, and oncommon good they was.  ’Won’t us have ‘un this taime just,’ saith Tim Potter, as keepeth the bull there; ’and yet I be zorry for ’un.  But a man must kape the law, her must; zo be her can only learn it.  And now poor Tom will swing as high as the tops of they girt hashes there.’

“’Just thee kitch ‘un virst,’ says I; ‘maisure rope, wi’ the body to maisure by.’

“‘Hurrah! here be another now,’ saith Bill Blacksmith, grinning; ’another coom to help us.  What a grave gentleman!  A warship of the pace, at laste!’

“For a gentleman, on a cue-ball horse, was coming slowly down the hill on tother zide of watter, looking at us in a friendly way, and with a long papper standing forth the lining of his coat laike.  Horse stapped to drink in the watter, and gentleman spak to ’un kindly, and then they coom raight on to ussen, and the gentleman’s face wor so long and so grave, us veared ‘a wor gooin’ to prache to us.

“‘Coort o’ King’s Bench,’ saith one man; ‘Checker and Plays,’ saith another; ‘Spishal Commission, I doubt,’ saith Bill Blacksmith; ’backed by the Mayor of Taunton.’

“‘Any Justice of the King’s Peace, good people, to be found near here?’ said the gentleman, lifting his hat to us, and very gracious in his manner.

“‘Your honour,’ saith Bill, with his hat off his head; ’there be sax or zeven warships here:  arl on ’em very wise ’uns.  Squaire Maunder there be the zinnyer.’

“So the gentleman rode up to Squire Maunder, and raised his cocked hat in a manner that took the Squire out of countenance, for he could not do the like of it.

“‘Sir,’ said he, ’good and worshipful sir, I am here to claim your good advice and valour; for purposes of justice.  I hold His Majesty’s commission, to make to cease a notorious rogue, whose name is Thomas Faggus.’  With that he offered his commission; but Squire Maunder told the truth, that he could not rade even words in print, much less written karakters.* Then the other magistrates rode up, and put their heads together, how to meet the London gentleman without loss of importance.  There wor one of ’em as could rade purty vair, and her made out King’s mark upon it:  and he bowed upon his horse to the gentleman, and he laid his hand on his heart and said, ’Worshipful sir, we, as has the honour of His Gracious Majesty’s commission, are entirely at your service, and crave instructions from you.’”