QUEENHOO-HALL;

BEING

A HISTORY OF TIMES PAST.

SECTION VIII.-CONTINUED.

CHAPTER II.

The Tale.

ABOUT à century past, there lived at Hatfield a merry fellow, well known in this village, who followed the double occupation of a tailor and a barber. He was usually denominated the Little Tailor-and by that appellation, so please you, I will call him. He was much esteemed by his neighbours, not only on account of his skilfulness in his profession, but more especially for his mirthful

VOL. 1V.

ness; for, he was constantly whistling or singing, or telling merry tales to please his cus

tomers and if perchance, in shaving, he drew

:

blood of any one of them, he had the method of apologizing so archly, that he seldom failed to send them away in a good humour.He had but one fault, and that was, he loved a full Can better than his business, and lost many a tester because he was not sufficiently sober to perform the duties of his occupa

tion.

"By'r Lady," quoth Hob Filcher, "he was a right honest-hearted lad, and a true I warrant."

man,

"I hold with you there," answered Tosspot; "he was one of our own kidney."

The narrator smiled at the observations, and went on.- "It chanced on a time that the Little Tailor came over to Tewin, as he was accustomed to do occasionally, to work at the farm-houses, and make up such garments as might be needful in the families;

and the story says, he never wanted for employment: but at night he usually gave the good folks the slip, and stole down hither, where he was joined by several of his old potcompanions, and passed the night in mirth and jollity."

By the blood of Termagant, he was a pig of my father's sow; a very lad after my own heart!" cried Tosspot.

"It was now," continued the tale-teller, "a few days before the feast of Saint Michael; and the Little Tailor having finished his business at Tewin, determined to purchase a goose, to roast on the Michaelmas-day, which purchase he made; and, after passing the evening here with his jovial comrades, he took up his goose under his arm, and between twelve and one set off by the light of the moon for Hatfield, singing merrily, as he went, with a heart devoid of care, and his belly full of good ale. Now you all well know that the

nearest path to Hatfield is down the warren, and through the farm-yard at Tewinbury.

"At that time there lived at the farm-house an austere varlet, whose name was Piers; but he was more usually known by the mock-appellation of Crabtree, on account of the sourness of his disposition. He was reve to the baron Fitzallen, of Mardon; and assumed great authority over his neighbours.

"It so happened, that his hen-roosts and capon-pens had been lately robbed, and several of his pigs and his geese were also missing; for this reason he determined to sit up, and watch for the thief: and on this very night, he, with two sturdy varlets of his household, had placed themselves in a convenient situation to overlook the pullen, and had purposely left the geese in the yard, to give the alarm, in case they should fall asleep; which actually happened. They had also two sharp dogs with them, to be their guard.

"The Little Tailor, as I before told you, came singing down the warren, and into the farm-yard. When he passed by the goosehouse, the geese that were lying before the door, being disturbed by him, began to scream-his own goose answered them—and, before he was aware, got loose, and ran among the farmer's geese. The Tailor followed his goose, and, after some time spent in the pursuit, caught it again. The screaming of the geese, who were frightened by the Tailor's running about among them, awakened the three watchmen; and, after the farmer had rubbed his eyes, the first thing he saw was the Little Tailor, in the midst of his geese, taking up a goose, which he clapped under his arm, and was proceeding on his journey without suspicion of harm. The farmer readily concluded that the Tailor had stolen one of his geese; and with his men he pursued, and stopped him as he was about to pass the bridge.