The Astonishing History of Troy Town Part 21

other world an' there was that eye fixin' mun an' lookin' as though et had _been there_. I needn' tell 'ee th' ould man wore et ivery Sunday: 'deed, he wore et most days, but tuk et out o' nights, I've heerd, for 'twudn' shut when he slep', but used to scare ould Deb'rah Mennear fairly out of her sken o' moonshiny nights, when the light comed in 'pon et. An' even when her got 'n to lave et off, her used allays to put a tay-cup 'pon top o't afore closin' an eye.

"So et went on, sir, till wan Sunday mornin', when the Lawyer was fairly warmin' to hes work over the weckedness o' backsliders an' the wrath to come, he whacks the cush'n more'n ord'nary vi'lent, an' I reckon that made the eye work loose. Anyway, out et drops, and clatters down along the floor o' the Meetin' House.

"Now Deacon Hoskins i' them days had charge o' the Sunday-school boys. He was a short-sighted man, the Deacon, tho' that were hes misfortun'; but he had faults as well, an' wan o' these was a powerful knack o' droppin' off to sleep durin' sarmon-time.

Hows'ever, he managed very tidily, for he knawed he was bound to wake hissel' so soon as he began to snore, an' then he'd start up sudden an' fetch the nighest boy a rousin' whistcuff 'pon the side o' the head to cover the noise he'd made, an' cry out, 'I've a-caught 'ee agen, ha' I? I'll tache 'ee to interrup' the word o' Grace wi' your gammut [8] an' may-games!'--an' he'd look round like as ef he'd say, 'Sorry to interrup', brethren, but desceplin' es desceplin'!'

Many's the time I've a-seed 'n do this, an' you may take my word, sir, 'twas so good as a play!"

Now this morning Deacon Hoskins was takin' forty winks as ushul, when the clatter made by th' ould Mennear's eye makes 'n set up, wide-awake an' starin'. This time, jedgin' by the noise, he tuk a consait that the boys had been a-playin' marbles sure 'nuff; so he takes two at haphazard, knacks their heads togither, an' then looks about. Fust thing he sees es th' eye lying out 'pon the aisle an'

lookin' for all the world like a big shiny gla.s.s-alley.

"I told 'ee, sir, the Deacon were short o' sight. He hadn' a doubt by this time the boys had been foolin' about wi' marbles, so he reaches out, grabs the eye, an' slips et into hes trowsy-pocket; an'

then he takes a glance round, so much as to say, 'I reckon the owner of this 'ere gla.s.s-alley'll ha' to wait afore he sees 'n agen.'

"In cou'se, the rest o' the brethren knawed what had happened, an'

wan or two fell to t.i.tterin' a bit; but altogether there was a kind o' breathlessness for a moment or so, an' then th' ould Mennear sings out from the pulpit--

"'Brother Hoskins, I'll trouble you to kindly pa.s.s up that eye.'

"Deacon Hoskins stared a bit, but was too short o' sight to see what the matter was.

"'Eh?' says he.

"'Hand up that eye, ef you plaise.'

"'What eye?' says the Deacon.

"Th' ould Mennear stamped and seemed fit to swear.

"'Why, _my_ eye, you nation bufflehead!' The Lawyer didn't mind much what he said when hes back was up; an' arter all 'twere, in a kind o'

way, 'scuseable.

"'Look 'ere,' answers back the Deacon, 'ef you've drapped your eye, an' be that fond o' the cheap-jack thing that you can't get on wi'out et, send round Deacon Spettigue to hunt, an' not a man as can't see sax inches afore hes nose. Et's out o' reas'n,' he said, 'an' you ort to know better.'

"In cou'se, tho', when he found out hes mistake an' lugged the thing out o' hes pocket, there was Bedlam let loose, for up five minnits, ivery mother's son chitterin' an' laffin, an' the Deacon lookin' like a pig in a fit. He desarted the Seceders that very week, an' niver darken'd the Meetin' House door agen to the day o' hes death.

"Well, the fuss got calmed over, but somehow the Lawyer cudn' niver trust hes eye as he used to. He said 'twarn't fully dependable; an', sure 'nuff, within a month et slipped out agen, and th' ould man was forced to go to Plymouth an' buy another, a bit smaller. So he lost by his mean ways arter all. He tried to trade back th' ould eye, but the shopman wudn'; so he brought et home in hes pocket, and laid it by in the chaney cupboard, 'long wi' the cloam, [9] an' there et bided.

"An' now, sir, I'm a-comin' to the most curiosest part o' my yarn: an' you can believe or no, as you thinks fit, but I'll tell 'ee jest what I knows an' no more.

"Some two year arter, Lawyer Mennear tuk a corner out o' the twenty-acred field--a little patch to the right o' the gate as you went in--an' planted et wi' green peas. Six rows he planted, an'

beautiful peas, too, on'y the birds wudn' let mun ha' a chance.

Well, at las' th' ould man got mad, an' stuck me 'pon top o' the hedge wi' a clapper to scare the birds away; 'sides which, to make sure, he rigged up a scarecrow. 'Twas a lovely scarecrow: two cross-sticks an' the varmer's own coat--'twas the coat he'd a-got married in forty year afore. He gied et to me when the scarecrow had done wi' et, an' the tails were so long as an Act o' Parlyment.

'Top o' this was a whackin' big turmut by way o' face, wi' a red scarf round the neck--from Aunt Deb'rah's petticoat--an' wan o' th'

ould man's left-off wigs 'pon the crown, an' a high-poll hat, a bit rusted wi' Sunday obsarvance, to finish. Did I say 'to finish'?

"Well, then, I said wrong. 'Cos jest when I'd a-rigged 'n up, down comes Aunt Deb'rah an' cries out, 'Aw, Caleb, here be suthin' more!

Do 'ee fix et in, that's a dear; an' ef et don't scare away any bird as iver flied, then,' says she, 'I'm wuss nor any bird'; an' wi' that she opens her hand an' gies me the Lawyer's cast-off eye.

"So I outs wi' my pocket-knife an' digs a hole in the turmat face, an' inside o' ten minnits there was the scarecrow finished off.

Aw, sir, 'twas a beautiful scarecrow; an' when us stuck et up, I tell 'ee that from the kitchen windeys, three hundred yards away, et seemed like life itsel'.

"Well, sir, fust day 'twas stuck there, I sot beside the hedge, round the corner, watchin', and while I sot two queerish things happen'd-- tho' the fust warn't so queer nuther, but jest human natur', when you comes to consider et. 'Twas this. I hadn' been there an hour afore _two score an' dree wimmen_--I knows, 'cos I kep' count--came, wan arter anuther, down to the gate to make sheep's eyes at that scarecrow, havin' heerd as there was a well-dressed lad down among the peas. An' that's true, ef I swears et 'pon the Book."

"Ah!" was Mr. Fogo's only comment.

"Iss, sir; an' well you may say so. But the nex' thing I noticed was a sight queerer. In fac' I dunno but et's the queerest go I iver heard tell 'bout. But you may jedge for yoursel'.

"I'd been a-settin' there for the best part o' two hour, an' keepin'

count o' how wan bird arter another comed up for they peas, an'

turned tail at sight o' the scarecrow. For et didn' seem like no ord'nary scarecrow, sir, wi' that eye a-glintin' in the sunshine.

I cou'd see 't from where I sot--an' so the birds thought. Well, wan arter another, they steps up an' flies off as ef hurried for time, when by-'m-by 'long comes an ould rook.

"He jest sa'ntered up quite leisurable, did this rook, an' lit 'pon a pea-stick to take a blinch round. Nat'rally he cotches sight o' the scarecrow, an' nat'rally I looked for 'n to turn tail, like the rest.

But no, sir.

"Where he was, the scarecrow's back was t'wards 'un, an' th' ould bird jest looks et up an' down, an' this way an' that, an' c.o.c.ks his head 'pon wan side, an' looks agen an' chuckles, for all the world as ef to say, 'Et looks like a man, an' 'tis fixed like a man; but dash my wig! ef 'tain't a scarecrow an' no more, I ain't fit to live in an age o' imitashuns.'

"Well, he jest sot an' sot, an' arter a while he began for to taste the flavour o' the joke, an' then he lay back an' laffed, did that bird, till he was fit to sweat. I reckoned I'd a-heerd birds laff afore this, but I made an error. My 'ivens, sir! but he jest clinched on to that pea-stick, an' shook the enj'yment out of hissel'

like a conjurer sh.e.l.lin' cannon-b.a.l.l.s from a hat. An' then he'd stop a bit, an' then fall to hootin' agen, till I was forced to laff too, way back behind the hedge, for c.u.mpanny. An' ivery time he noted a fresh bit o' likelihood in the scarecrow he'd go off in a fresh fit.

I thought he'd niver ha' done.

"But in a while he hushed, an' waited a bit to calm hes nerves, an'

stepped down off the pea-stick. Thinks I, 'What es he up to now?'

An' I stood up to see, but quiet-like, so's I shudn' scare 'n.

"I hadn' long to wait. He jest steps up behind the scarecrow, makes a leg, so grave as you plaise, an' commences for to dance round 'un-- fust 'pon wan leg, then 'pon t'other--like as ef 'twas a haythen dancin' round a graven image. But the flauntin' ins'lence o't, sir!

The brazen, fleerin' abusefulness! Not a feather, ef you'll believe me, but fairly leaked wi' ribaldry--jest _leaked_.

"Th' ould bird had got ha'f-way round, a-mincin' an' j.a.pin', an'

throwin' out hes legs this way an' that an' gettin' more boldacious an' ondacent wi' ivery step, when he c.o.c.ks his head askew for a second, jest to see how the pore image was a-takin' o't, an' that moment he catches the scarecrow's eye.

"Aw, sir, to see the change as comed over that bird!

The forthiness [10] went out o'n for all the world like wind out 'n a p.r.i.c.ked bladder; an' I reckon nex' minnit there warn't no meaner, sicklier-lookin' critter atween this an' Johnny Groats' than that ould rook. There was a kind o' shever ran through 'n, an' hes feathers went ruffly-like, an' hes legs bowed in, an' he jes' lay flat to groun' and goggled an' glazed up at that eye like a dyin'

duck in a thunderstorm. 'Twas a rich sight, sir; an' how I contrived not to bust mysel' wi' laffin', es more'n I can tell 'ee to this day.

"So he lay for up ten minnits, an' then he staggered up 'pon hes feet an' sneaked out o' them peas like a chuck-sheep dog, an' the repent'nce a-tricklin' out 'n ivery pore. He pa.s.sed me by that close I cou'd ha' knacked 'n over wi' a stick, but he didn' see me more'n ef I'd a'been a pisky-man. [11] All hes notiss, I reckon, were for that gashly eye; an' he looked back ivery now and agen, like as ef he'd say, 'I be but worms; an', wuss nor that, I've a-been a scoffin', lyin', Sabbath-breakin' ould worms; but do 'ee let me off this wance, an' I'll strive an' wrastle,' he seemed to say, 'an' do purty well all a rook can to be gathered to the fold.' An' wi' that he slinks over th' hedge an' out o' sight.

"Well, sir, I didn' see 'n agen nex' day, nor for many days arter; but on Sunday-week, as et mou't be, i' the mornin' I'd a-took French lave an' absented mysel' from Meetin' House, an' were quietly smokin'

my pipe up in the town-place, [12] when I hears a chitterin' an' a chatterin' like as 'twere a little way off; an' lookin' down t'wards the twenty-acred field, I seed 'twere black wi' rooks--fairly black, sir--black as the top o' your hat. Thinks I, 'I reckon here's some new caper,' an' I loafes down to see the fun.

"I stales down the lane, an' looks over the gate, an' when I takes in, at las', what 'tes all about, my!--you mou't ha' knacked me down wi' a feather! 'Twas a prayer-meetin' them rooks was a-holdin', sir, as I'm a senner. The peas was fairly hid wi' the crowd, an' 'twas that thick I counted sax 'pon wan pea-stick. An' in the middle, jes'

onder the scarecrow, stood up th' ould rook I'd a-seen afore, an'

told hes experiences. He ramped, an' raved, an' mopped, an' mowed, an' kep' a-noddin' his head t'wards the scarecrow, to show how hes salvashun was worked; an' all the time the rest o' the rooks sat still as mice. On'y when he pulls up to breathe a bit, they lets out an' squalls, as ef to say, 'Amen. 'Tes workin'--'tes workin'!

Pray strong, brother!' an' at et he'd go agen, same as he _must_.

An' at las', when 'twas 'hold breath or bust' wi' 'un, he ups an'

starts a hemn, an' they all jines in, till you mou't hear the caprouse [13] two mile off. That were the finish, too; for arter the row died away, there was a minnit or so o' silent prayer, an' then the whole gang gets up off they pea-sticks an' sails away for Squire Tresawsen's rookery, t'other side o' the hill.

"Well, in cou'se I tells the tale, an' was called a liard for my pains. But the same thing happen'd nex' Sunday, an' the Sunday arter--an' not a pea stolen all the time--an' a good few people comed down behind the hedge to see, an' owned up as I were right.

Et got to be the talk o' the country; an' how 'twud ha' ended, goodness on'y knaws, ef I hadn' a-spi'led the sport mysel'. An' how I did so, you shall hear.