1827.] Wheat-hoeing. 487 



pilfering, and the stories of pilfering! The inhabitants of the kiln wore 

 not only thieves in themselves, but the cause of thievery in others. . " The 

 gipsies !" was the answer general to every inquiry for things missing. 



Farmer Thorpe whose dwelling, with its variety of outbuildings 

 barns, ricks, and stables is only separated by a meadow and a small 

 coppice from the lane that leads to the gipsy retreat was particularly 

 annoyed by this visitation. Two couple of full-grown ducks, and a whole 

 brood of early chickens, disappeared in one night; and Mrs. Thorpe fret- 

 ted over the loss, and the farmer was indignant at the villains. He set traps, 

 let loose mastiffs, arid put in action all the resources of village police but 

 in vain. Every night property went ; and the culprits, however strongly 

 suspected, still continued unamenable to the law. 



At last, one morning, the great Chanticleer of the farm-yard a cock of 

 a million, with an unrivalled crow a matchless strut, and plumage all 

 gold and green, and orange and purple gorgeous as a peacock, and tierce 

 as a he-turkey Chanticleer, the pride and glory of the yard, was missing! 

 and Mrs. Thorpe's lamentations and her husband's anger redoubled. Vow- 

 ing vengeance against the gipsies, he went to the door to survey a young 

 blood mare of his own breeding; and as he stood at the gate now 

 bemoaning Chanticleer now cursing the gipsies now admiring the bay 

 filly his neighbour, Dame Simmons the identical lady of the mop, who 

 occasionally chared at the house came to give him the comfortable 

 information that she had certainly heard Chanticleer she was quite ready 

 to swear to Chanticleer's voice crowing in the brick-kiln. No time, she 

 added, should be lost, if Farmer Thorpe wished to rescue that illustrious 

 cock, and to punish the culprits since the gipsies, when she passed the 

 place, were preparing to decamp. 



No time was lost. In one moment Farmer Thorpe was on the bay filly's 

 unsaddled back, with the halter for a bridle; and, in the next, they were 

 on full gallop towards the kiln. But, alas! alas ! ".the more haste the 

 worse speed," says the wisdom of nations. Just as they arrived at the 

 spot from which the procession gipsies, dogs, and donkeys and Chanti- 

 cleer in a sack, shrieking most vigorously were proceeding on their tra- 

 vels, the young blood mare whether startled at the unusual cortege, or 

 the rough ways, or the hideous noise of her old friend, the cock suddenly 

 reared and threw her master, who lay in all the agony of a sprained 

 ankle, unable to rise from the ground ; whilst the whole tribe, with poor 

 Chanticleer their prisoner, marched triumphantly past him, utterly regard- 

 less of his threats and imprecations. In this plight was the unlucky farmer 

 discovered, about half an hour afterwards, by his wife, the constable, and 

 a party of his own labourers, who came to give him assistance in securing 

 the culprits ; of whom, notwithstanding an instant and active search through 

 the neighbourhood, nothing has yet transpired. We shall hardly see them 

 again in these parts, and have almost done talking of them. The village 



is returned to its old state of order and honesty ; the Mayor of W has 



replaced his table-cloth, and Mrs. Thorpe her cock ; and the- poor farmer's 

 lame ankle is all that remains to give token of the gipsies. 



Here we are at the turning, which, edging round by the coppice, 

 branches off to their some-time den : the other bend to the right leads up 

 a gentle ascent to the vicarage, and that is our way. How fine a view of 

 the little parsonage we have from hence, between those arching elms, 

 which enclose it like a picture in a frame ! and how pretty a picture it 

 forms, with its three pointed roofs, its snug porch, and its casement windows 

 glittering from amid the china-roses ! What a nest of peace and comfort,! 



