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opposite lawyer offered to find him a man; but somehow the time went over. Two or three people came, saw the land, shook their heads, and went away, and so the matter ended. The villagers were defeated, though it cannot be said that they were silenced, for they were very savage, and talked in the King of Prussia more fiercely than ever. It was said that the whole was a juggle; that the opposite lawyer had been feed by old Ling ; the men who came to see the land that had been sold were sent on purpose by this villain lawyer; and the whole was a hoax and a smoke. Be that as it may, many years went on. Hooks was as mild as ever—Ling as deaf as ever. He rode on his yellowish little horse in the very same old hat, old blue coat, spattered gaiters, and jingling spur, as usual, into the village at certain times; and it was observed that after every one of these visits there rose a furious clamour, and many curses and some conspicuous change followed. But it was only when a number of years had passed that the whole change was visible. Then it was seen how many old cottages had actually vanished, how many of the old croft hedges had got stubbed up, and what great wide ploughed fields lay in their places; what numbers of old orchards and gardens were gone. The place, in truth, looked much sprucer, much more open and modern. There were new cottages arisen in long rows, without gardens and pigstys, it is true; and what was more striking was, that almost all the people were mere labourers without a yard of land, and almost all the land and the village belonged to Sampson Hooks. What now struck them also as almost as extraordinary was, that not only had the people no longer a foot of land to call their own, but all the old foot-paths which used to run in every possible direction round the village, and away over the fields and commons to the next hamlet had got stopped up and lost. There had been no application to the sessions for the purpose, yet the paths which used to give most delicious Sunday and holiday walks to the villagers were somehow gone. This had been done by stubbing up a variety of hedges, and ploughing up the land, so that the real direction had been, for a time, lost, especially as the rain made the newly dug and ploughed up ground such a perfect slough of mud and wet, that, in winter, it was impassable; and then, when spring came, and the corn sprung up, it was found to be let to some poor fellow that the people could not find in their NO, XXI.--WOL, IW. P

hearts to do a damage to. But they were very clamorous to Sampson Hooks himself, who always was put into a great flutter of concern at these matters which he himself never attended to, Mr. Ling should look better to these things, and avoid such complaints. Certainly, the people must have a path. Oh, certainly! But as it would now injure Thomas Hobson's or James Simpson's corn, they would perhaps be so good as to go a little round, or in another direction, Nay, a way should be opened for them through his own park, much nearer, much pleasanter. And this was done. Could anything be more accommodating? In a few years, however, when the right to the old way was lost, then came that eternal old Joe Ling and stopped up the new road through the park; but such depredations had been committed on the trees in the park, and the hall was so exposed to thieves by these foot-roads so near it, that really they must be closed. But the people should have a road. Mr. Hooks would see where it could go to the advantage of all parties. But time went on, and it never could be settled where the road should run. Then again rose the choler of the villagers; hatchets and picks were taken, gates were eut down, fences cut through, and the old roads opened with much triumph and jubilee. The whole village was in a ferment, and the women stood at their doors and shouted to each other, and the men in the King of Prussia shouted all at once, “Well, now we shall see what these tyrants will do!” And truly did they soon see that. It was declared that it was very grievous to Mr. Hooks, but that such proceedings could not be allowed; the peace must be preserved, the laws and property must be respected. The offenders were summoned before the Justices, and, spite of all their representations, were fined for their outrage, and threatened with the House of Correction; for when did a county magistrate entertain a complaint against the closing of a foot-path ? It is too much to be expected from human nature. Why, this man has these same obnoxious paths on his own lands, and wants to be well rid of them. So the crofts and cottages were gone, and the foot-paths were all gone, yet not a legal complaint could be exhibited against the virtuous and compassionate Sampson Hooks, nor even against the faithful Joe Ling. Could any man say that they were not really most innocent, falsely-accused, fair-dealing, conscientious, though clever, successful men, as men with money in their pockets usually are, and of which the money itself is a sufficient proof; for, were they not clever, they would never have got it, or would never have kept it when got. Years went on, and all seemed bright and prosperous at the Hall. Neither Sampson Hooks nor his great roadster, Black Jack, seemed to grow a day older. Mrs. Sampson Hooks drove out in her handsome pony-chaise, and smiled and nodded to every one. And old Joe Ling occasionally was seen riding to or from the Hall on the same little yellowish horse, with the pye-bald face and whitish legs; and as to Joe Ling himself, he was just the same figure, and wore the same jingling spur as ever. The old sun-burnt hat, and the old blue coat with the metal buttons, seemed never to get worse. It was said that Sampson Hooks was making a mint of money in collieries and farming, somewhere a good way off, and that Joe Ling came loaded with money like a bee. If he did, it was not the fruit of the blessings and the prayers of the poor, for never did so many curses roll out of the cottages of the poor as when he rode by. But they might curse, and they did it pretty loud too—he was deaf to all—and when some surly fellow, or a knot of them in the village street, has said fiercely out, just as he passed, “The devil fly away with him and his dog-tit too !” he has made his bow. No doubt he saw the fellow's lips move, and said, “Oh, pretty well, I thank ye, and I hope that you are all yourselves comfortable.” Spite of all show of prosperity, the villagers noticed that the rooks never came back, and never could be lured to settle in the old trees again, and they nodded knowingly to one another, and said in their broad dialeet, “We'll wait a bit; the dee wull come!” And truly, in a while there occurred some little matters that did not bear so easily smoothing out, and that made the villagers prick up their ears, and open their mouths, more confidently than ever; and, what was more singular, in these there was no visible hand of old Joe Ling. Such was the reputation at a distance of the substantial wealth and integrity of Sampson Hooks, that poor people who had saved a little money, could think of no safer means of depositing it than in his hands. The villagers, who would not have trusted him a crown, called those who did all the stupid “flats and goslings” in the language. Old Ling was at the bottom of all this, they said, for he went canting about on his “scue-bald pony,” cracking of his master, like a very saint; but this might be only their prejudiced supposition—there was no evidence on the subject. . However, a poor widow, who had put a few score pounds, into Sampson Hooks' hands, came one day for her interest. Sampson was not at home, but Mrs. Sampson had the poor woman into the parlour, kindly inquired her business, lamented that Mr. Hooks would not be at home that day, and asked the poor woman, who had thus come a long and weary way for a disappointment, to have some refreshment. While the poor woman ate, and lamented her hard case to have to come and go so far for nothing, she found Mrs. Hooks so tender and sympathising, that she begged of her as a great favour to pay her the interest herself, to save an old woman another long journey. The poor woman, to convince her that all was right, drew out the note, and handed it to Mrs. Hooks. The lady looked at it, declared that for what she knew of such things it might be right or wrong, but that she never ventured to meddle with such matters. As the poor widow went on to relate many of her own domestic affairs and troubles, Mrs. Hooks laid the note on her work-table, and as soon as the poor woman had done wiping her eyes on her apron—for , she had opened up a whole history of her life's past and present trials— she . up the paper and returned it to her. - - - -r The widow came again in a few days, found Sampson, Hooks luckily this time at home, and presented her note. What, however, was her astonishment, when Mr. Hooks put on a very strange look, and said, “Truly, good woman, here is a promissory note; but who promises, or what I have to do with this note, is more than I can tell, for here is no name to it.” “No name !” said the poor woman; “no name ! Oh, Lord bless you, dear sir, why do you like to frighten a poor body so? Here is your own honest name to it, just as you wrote it !” ..., “I tell you, woman, that what I say is true! See here, there is no name whatever; and who and what you are is quite unknown, to me. I have no recollection of you, and must believe that you are an impudent impostor. , Go, get away with you, Go, as fast. as you can s" * - to . . . .” “No name l—you don't know me!—you!—great God! what do you mean?" exclaimed the poor woman, turning as white as a sheet, and trembling till she could not rise without holding fast by the chair. Hooks held the note angrily open before her; and when she

had gazed at it, and saw that really there was no name, she dropped senselessly into the chair. When she recovered from her swoon, she found herself laid on the sofa, and Mr. and Mrs. Hooks were busily sprinkling her with water, and in a great bustle, but there was no servant present. As soon as the widow looked up, and with a heavy sigh, and tears that began to gush forth in torrents, attempted to rise, Sampson Hooks said in a flurried way— “There is some mistake, good woman; there must be some great mistake. I don't understand it; you have come to a wrong place, or have brought a wrong paper. Compose yourself, and make what haste you can home, and see whether you have not another paper somewhere.” “Oh no, no! the Lord above knows?” exclaimed the poor woman, wringing her hands in her apron, wetting it through and through with her tears, and trembling every joint—“The Lord above knows I have no other paper than this? This is my little all—my all in this world; it is the saving of a life. Oh, sir, sir! don't kill me with fright! You know me—you know the paper—you have paid me the interest these years: See, it's all written on the back; it is in your own hand " Oh, worthy, worthy sir, do take pity on me!” “But what —but why s—there is no name, I tell you !” said Mr. Hooks. “Oh, the name was there when I was here only a few days ago!. The good lady here saw it; and she knows that she read your name aloud, and said, ‘Yes, that's my dear Sampson's own name, sure enough.’” “Oh, you wicked woman " Oh, you false tongue, you! Oh, how dare you say such a thing!” exclaimed Mrs. Sampson Hooks. “I read the name ! I say it was my dear Sampson's name ! Woman, I say, how dare you utter such a falsehood before God . " “Before God and man I dare utter it!” now cried the poor woman, who seemed at once to recover her strength, to lose her trembling, and to stand a head taller, and looked no longer the same, but a woman in the prime of life, and with a figure and face full of fire. Such was the change which indignation can make sometimes in the weakest and most timid creature. “I tell you!” she exclaimed, advancing to Mrs. Hooks, “I tell you, woman—for I have as much right to woman you as you

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