( 473 J 



THE TAILOR OF BRUMMELTON. 



A HAPPY man was Jenkin Slops when the grey towers of his native' 

 town greeted his travelled and somewhat sleepy eyes ; when the? 

 broad arm of the sea, on the shores of which that town was built, once 

 more shone in the distance, radiant with the rich tints of the setting 

 sun, and he could see the wide-spread solar blaze piercing in a thou- 

 sand forms and a thousand hues the woods that begirt the well-known 

 spot. Not that Jenkin cared to the value of one button off his 

 old snuff-coloured doublet, for grey towers, or for the wood burning 

 with magic fires ; but he could not but be glad in his heart to be once 

 more home, safe, and in anticipation of a rich harvest of gain. 



He was proceeding leisurely by the side of a wild common, his 

 features, though totally unused to such contortion, wrung into a kind 

 of smile, when a thought struck him. Muttering " the day sinks fast, 

 now is the time to ascertain that my goods are unsoiled before the 

 night,'* he pushed on a short distance off the road, and then threw the 

 rein over the neck of his old pony. This was a signal for a steady 

 pause well understood between the pair, and Jenkin then proceeded 

 full leisurely to dismount, like a man stiff, perhaps, both with years 

 and toil, while his rough steed stooped her head and snuffed at a tuft 

 of dusty grass. 



Having made his own footing sure, Slops next unfastened a large 

 bundle that was strap|3ed on behind his saddle ; his private gear, in 

 very minute compass, he carried in front. With twinkling eyes and 

 trembling hands he opened this package, and drew forth its contents. 

 First appeared a hat, in the handsomest fashion of the period ; its 

 feathers next ; and, properly adjusted, they were placed on a neigh- 

 bouring bush. Having taken the edge off his desire to see these 

 treasures, Jenkin then produced a cloak, and next a vest and then 

 these and other matters each found a fitting site for display on some 

 stunted tree or tall furze bush. 



Jenkin Slops was both small and lean, and, though a caterer for the 

 decoration of others, loved no manner of finery in his own proper 

 person. He eschewed frill and collar as sheer debauchery, and body 

 linen he held to be a privilege of his betters. His personals were 

 compounded of leather and serge, fit materials both to form " sweet 

 robes of durance ;" and Jenkin gave to each ample opportunity to 

 manifest its virtues. Over his shoulders on the present occasion hung, 

 or rather floated at the fitful pleasure of the evening breeze, a very 

 short cloak, worn by service to the consistency of a cobweb; and the 

 general colour of his outer man in the mass was a dark yellow, a hue 

 which aided the wing-like ornament of his shoulders in giving to the 

 old creature the appearance of a half-fledged moth fluttering into life 

 wiih the birth of night. 



It had been all over with Jenkin Slops's reputation for sanity of 

 mind had any person then passed by and seen the little grey headed 

 man running from bush to bush, that is to say, from doublet to cloak, 

 and from cloak to hat, rubbing his long dry paws together, each fin- 



