for nowt i' th' warkin' warl'." When Oby
came to be about twelve, he was bound prentice
to Dick Heelband, the principal tailor in
Dodderham, but he made such progress,
and turned out to be so ingenious, active,
industrious, docile a lad, that Lile Jack announced
his intention of sending him to
Lunnon, and making a gentleman of him.
A great London auctioneer with whom Jack
was in correspondence offered to take Obadiah
into his counting-house for three years at a
moderate premium, and the great squire Rigg,:
now one of the members for the county, told
Lile Jack that he was an honest man (which
from so great a squire, was commendation
indeed); that he should take upon himself
to pay the lad's premium, and the expense of ,
cancelling his indentures with Heelband, and
that Jack would have all the more to leave
Oby when he died.

The boy's ill-health, and the manifest
disinclination of Lile Jack to part with a being
whom he had grown to love as the apple of
his eye, caused the journey to London to be
deferred from six months to six months, and
from year to year, till Oby was nearly eighteen
years of age. At last Lile Jack made up his
mind to part with his darling, and Oby with
great difficulty reconciled himself to the necessity
of a temporary separation from his
adopted father. The three years would soon
be over, and then Oby would return full as a
cratch with the wisdom of London town, and
succeed Lile Jack, who was beginning to get
old, and fond of a pipe in the middle of the
day, in the auctioneering business. A day
was fixed for his departure, and a place taken
for him in the Constitution coach. The pock-
marked niece prepared him a huge chest of
linen. Dick Heelband turned out for him
two suits of clothes, which, in the private
opinion of Dick, and indeed of the whole of
Dodderham folk to boot, would rather astonish
the Londoners; and Lile Jack solemnly
presented him with a big silver watch— a
watch that had kept time in auctions out of
number—which went like a church clock, and
made nearly as much noise as one in ticking.
The day before that fixed for his journey,
Oby went round to bid all the principal inhabitants
of Dodderham a formal good-bye.
His tour resembled in some degree that of
the heraldic lion and unicorn, for some gave
him white bread and some brown, and some
plum- cake; some gave him Bibles too, also
Prayer-books, also jams and woollen comforters;
and little Miss Ogle presented him
with a purse of bonny money, containing a
Spanish doubloon, a William and Mary half-
crown, and two silver pennies of George the
Second. There was not one who did not give
the gentle, affectionate lad their warmest
wishes for health and success.

Oby was to start by the night coach from
Dodderham. It was winter, and Lile Jack
and his protégé sat by the fireside in the
parlour of the Royal Oak, waiting for the
mail. The lad's luggage was in the hall, all
corded and directed. The parlour was full
of Dodderham folk, over their pipes, all waiting
to see Oby Webb off, and bid him God
speed.

Lile Jack had been smoking more, and
snuffing more, and coughing more, and lace-
rating the person and feelings of the white
hat which was now a mere tawny wreck—
more than usual that evening. He had talked
with Oby about his plans, and how soon the
three years would be over, and how happy
they would all be when he returned to Dodderham
town again, quite the gentleman.

"Thee's gangin t' Lunnon, Oby ma lad,"
he concluded. " It's aye large, and wicked,
and thee wilt meet wi' a mony rogues, and a
mony fules, and a mony that's gude fur nowt:
nay, nit to mak' bacca leets o'. But thou'rt
a gude lad, and sure I am thou wilt do thy
duty towowrds man an' fear God. But dinna
be fleeted, Oby. Open thee lugs, an' cock up
t' end o' thee ee; and if ony speaks agin
Dodderham toun or Dodderham fouk, blare
oot at 'em. Sprak oup at 'em like a brak'
bowstring. I'se ge'en thee brass for thy
meat, and brass for thy gear, and brass for
thy shear; an' here's that thou shall nit want
for swaggerin' money, which thou wilt not
brak into, unless to prevent a Dodderham
lad lookin' like a fule." With which Jack
handed a leathern purse to his adopted child,
containing five golden guineas.

The Constitution coach drove up to the
Royal Oak door about a quarter to eleven.
The hostler handed up Oby's luggage; and
Spurrell the coachmen entered the inn parlour
for a glass of brandy. Spurrell was a
lusty man, with a scarlet face, and all eyes
were immediately turned to that renowned
white box-coat of his, in the breast pocket of
which all men knew he carried the Dodderham
Bank Parcel, containing notes amounting
to unnumbered thousands.

One by one the guests rose, and shaking
Oby cordially by the hand bade him farewell.
Mrs. Quitt the landlady kissed him on both
cheeks, and left a tear upon his woollen
comforter; and Spurrell, the burly and the
scarlet-faced, looked on like an Anglo-Greek
chorus who could moralise a great deal
upon the leave-takings he had seen, if he
chose.

And now it was Lile Jack's turn. He led
the lad into the middle of the room, and held
him at arm's length by both hands, the lamplight
streaming over his working face.

"Thou'rt goin' to Lunnon, Oby," he said,
in a strange voice. " T' Lunnon to be a gentleman.
An'—an'—"

The rest of Lile Jack's speech must ever
remain as great a secret as an unreported
debate. It might have been a perfectly Ciceronian
oration; it might have been as incoherent
an address as he made on the night of
the presentation of the hammer. For, to use
the words of my informant, he " brak doun