the Revue des Deux Mondes, vol. xlviii., 1863,
and the writer, Mr. E. T. B. Rathery, considers
its moral to be the same as that of La Fontaine's
fable, Le Chien et le Loup, namely, the proud
superiority of the husbandman, as synonymous
with yeoman and freeholder, over the serving-
man who serves a master for wages. The
spirit which some years since animated the
independent class of small proprietors breathes in
every line of the well-known ballad, The Yeoman
of Suffolk. The Husbandman may have had the
same origin, as indeed the possessive pronoun
in verse eight would seem to imply; but in
our village it had lost this association, and its
significance consisted in the superiority conceded
to agriculture over domestic service. The
palm is awarded to agriculture in the tenth
verse, which was triumphantly sung in chorus
by all the company present. Mr. Chappel, in
his work on Popular English Music, gives the
air belonging to The Husbandman, though also
called "I am the Duke of Norfolk." The tune
to which our friends sang their recitative bears
sufficient resemblance to this air to indicate a
common origin, the principal difference consisting
in the time and the value of the notes.

                      THE HUSBANDMAN.

As sung by Joseph Bird, Carter, and Benjamin
                          Carriss, Butcher.

                                     1.

                Well met, well met, my friend,
                Upon the highway riding,
          So simple all alone as you stand,
                And all in a little space
                I will help you to a place
          Where you may be a serving-man.

                                     2.

Oh no, my brother dear, what makes you to inquire
          Of any such things at my hand?
               I have a thing to show,
               Whereby you soon shall know
          That I am a downright husbandman.

                                   3.

               Kind sir, but we do eat
               Our most delicate fine meat,
          Our fish, our capon, and our swan,
               Our palates are so fine,
               We drink sugar in our wine—
          There's diet for a serving-man.

                                   4.

              Now as for your fish and capon,
              Give me some beans and bacon,
          Some butter and some cheese now and then.
              We're* always pigs and sows
              There in our farmer's yard—
          There's diet for the husbandman.

*In the midland counties the two auxiliary verbs
are used indiscriminately, thus:  We are always got
pigs and sows;" "I am going to London to-morrow,
Ben;" "Oh, have you, sir? I hope you are not
got to stay there, long." The fourth line of verse
four has probably been altered into the common
lingua of the people singing.

                                    5.

             Now, kind sir, but we do wear
             Our clothes both rich and rare,
         Our coats with gold lace upon,
             Our shirts as white as milk,
             Our stockings made of silk—
         There's clothing for the serving-man.

                                    6.

             As for your clothes so rare,
             Give me stout shoes to wear,
          Clods for to trample upon;
             Give me a good great-coat,
             And in my purse a groat—
         There's clothing for the husbandman.

                                    7.

            There, now, kind sir, it is a fine thing
            To ride out with the queen,
         Either lord, duke, or any such one,
            To hear the horns to blow,
            See hounds run in a row—
         There's pleasure for the serving-man!

                                    8.

             My pleasure's more than that—
             To see my oxen fat;
         A large stack of hay by them stand;
             My reaping and my mowing,
             My plowing and my sowing—
         There's pleasure for the hus-band-man.

                                    9.

             Kind sir, I must confess,
             And grant you the request,
          All things must be added to you.
             Unto me it is most painful,
             To you it is most gainful—
          I wish I was a hus-band-man.

                                  10.

                            (In chorus.)

            So now, good people all,
            Both great and small,
        Let us pray for the good of the land;
            And let us all for ever
            Do the best of our endeavour
        For to maintain the hus-band-man.

While the vocalists were resting, the "call"
was generally passed on to the story-teller of
the village, Loasby, the old sexton, who, with
the most extraordinary gravity and faultless
memory, would relate, word for word, an old
allegory called The Pack of Cards, or, as
Loasby called it, The Deck of Cards. This
was a highly popular story, owing, no doubt, to
its allegorical character, always a favourite form
of fiction with poor people and children, whose
tastes in literature, for obvious reasons, are
much alike. On none of the upturned faces
around was a smile to be seen; and if a new
visitor, on hearing the remarkable memoria
technica for the first time, betrayed some
amusement, he was immediately shamed into
gravity by the wondering glances turned on him.
To give the telling of this allegory due effect,
the narrator, as he sat at the head of the table,
should spread his Pack of Cards solemnly out
before his audience and refer to them. Master
Loasby would proceed as follows:

"The title is called the Soldier's Prayer and
Homily Book of the 306th Regiment of Foot.