The Country Parson. 139 



old clerk soling a boot. Q. "Have you dug old Sukey's 

 grave, George ? " A. " Xever heerd about it, zur." 

 Q. ''What's to be done? — it is now three." A. '"Don't 

 rightly know, zur; there be no one at home but me." There 

 was only one thing to be done ; and a man was sent on 

 horseback to put the funeral off till five, leaving us two 

 hours. The old clerk took his tools down behind the church 

 tower, out of sight, to a spot where no one had been buried 

 within living memory. We prospected with the boring- 

 ii'ons as quickly as possible, the clerk's little grand-daughter 

 fetching someone to toll the bell, and we three stripped to 

 our shirts, and in an hour and a half dug as good a gi'ave 

 as anyone could desire ; and if ever I did enjoy a pull at the 

 beer, it was in the vicarage when the job was done. At 

 five o'clock all were in their places, and no living soul but 

 ourselves ever knew who dug the grave. 



We must dine with " Yarmer Jemmy," after all this talk. 

 He always used, out of compliment to me, as the Londoner, 

 to dine late, and our dinner was at twelve, instead of eleven 

 A.M., his usual time. 



Old Jemmy was one of those cimous characters whom 

 one seldom meets now. He w^as a hale and hearty octo- 

 genarian, whose hours in bed were from 7 o'clock p.:\i. to 5 

 A.M. in the winter, and from 8 till 3 in the summer. Besides 

 his farm he dealt in timber, and had a saw-pit, and con- 

 tracted for farm buildings, always making money and never 

 spending it, hardly ever away from home, kind to the poor, 

 finding odd jobs for the men in the winter, and very 

 hospitable. He lived alone with an elderly female servant 

 who was near seventy. Jemmy was very warm in the 

 pocket. He trusted only to a canvas bag and specie, and 

 probably never had a cheque-book. 



Our banquet-room was in the large bricked kitchen (for 

 Jemmy only used his parlour when ladies came to see him). 



