there's allays two 'pinions; there's the 'pinion a man has of himsen, and there's the 'pinion other folks have on him.There'd be two 'pinions about a cracked bell, if the bell could hear itself.""Well, Mr.Macey," said poor Tookey, serious amidst the general laughter, "I undertook to partially fill up the office of parish-clerk by Mr.Crackenthorp's desire, whenever your infirmities should make you unfitting; and it's one of the rights thereof to sing in the choir--else why have you done the same yourself?""Ah! but the old gentleman and you are two folks," said Ben Winthrop."The old gentleman's got a gift.Why, the Squire used to invite him to take a glass, only to hear him sing the "Red Rovier"; didn't he, Mr.Macey? It's a nat'ral gift.There's my little lad Aaron, he's got a gift--he can sing a tune off straight, like a throstle.But as for you, Master Tookey, you'd better stick to your "Amens": your voice is well enough when you keep it up in your nose.It's your inside as isn't right made for music: it's no better nor a hollow stalk."This kind of unflinching frankness was the most piquant form of joke to the company at the Rainbow, and Ben Winthrop's insult was felt by everybody to have capped Mr.Macey's epigram.
"I see what it is plain enough," said Mr.Tookey, unable to keep cool any longer."There's a consperacy to turn me out o' the choir, as I shouldn't share the Christmas money--that's where it is.But I shall speak to Mr.Crackenthorp; I'll not be put upon by no man.""Nay, nay, Tookey," said Ben Winthrop."We'll pay you your share to keep out of it--that's what we'll do.There's things folks 'ud pay to be rid on, besides varmin.""Come, come," said the landlord, who felt that paying people for their absence was a principle dangerous to society; "a joke's a joke.We're all good friends here, I hope.We must give and take.
You're both right and you're both wrong, as I say.I agree wi'
Mr.Macey here, as there's two opinions; and if mine was asked, Ishould say they're both right.Tookey's right and Winthrop's right, and they've only got to split the difference and make themselves even."The farrier was puffing his pipe rather fiercely, in some contempt at this trivial discussion.He had no ear for music himself, and never went to church, as being of the medical profession, and likely to be in requisition for delicate cows.But the butcher, having music in his soul, had listened with a divided desire for Tookey's defeat and for the preservation of the peace.
"To be sure," he said, following up the landlord's conciliatory view, "we're fond of our old clerk; it's nat'ral, and him used to be such a singer, and got a brother as is known for the first fiddler in this country-side.Eh, it's a pity but what Solomon lived in our village, and could give us a tune when we liked; eh, Mr.Macey? I'd keep him in liver and lights for nothing--that Iwould."
"Aye, aye," said Mr.Macey, in the height of complacency; "our family's been known for musicianers as far back as anybody can tell.
But them things are dying out, as I tell Solomon every time he comes round; there's no voices like what there used to be, and there's nobody remembers what we remember, if it isn't the old crows.""Aye, you remember when first Mr.Lammeter's father come into these parts, don't you, Mr.Macey?" said the landlord.
"I should think I did," said the old man, who had now gone through that complimentary process necessary to bring him up to the point of narration; "and a fine old gentleman he was--as fine, and finer nor the Mr.Lammeter as now is.He came from a bit north'ard, so far as I could ever make out.But there's nobody rightly knows about those parts: only it couldn't be far north'ard, nor much different from this country, for he brought a fine breed o' sheep with him, so there must be pastures there, and everything reasonable.We heared tell as he'd sold his own land to come and take the Warrens, and that seemed odd for a man as had land of his own, to come and rent a farm in a strange place.But they said it was along of his wife's dying; though there's reasons in things as nobody knows on--that's pretty much what I've made out; yet some folks are so wise, they'll find you fifty reasons straight off, and all the while the real reason's winking at 'em in the corner, and they niver see't.Howsomever, it was soon seen as we'd got a new parish'ner as know'd the rights and customs o' things, and kep a good house, and was well looked on by everybody.And the young man--that's the Mr.Lammeter as now is, for he'd niver a sister--soon begun to court Miss Osgood, that's the sister o' the Mr.Osgood as now is, and a fine handsome lass she was--eh, you can't think--they pretend this young lass is like her, but that's the way wi'
people as don't know what come before 'em._I_ should know, for Ihelped the old rector, Mr.Drumlow as was, I helped him marry 'em."Here Mr.Macey paused; he always gave his narrative in instalments, expecting to be questioned according to precedent.
"Aye, and a partic'lar thing happened, didn't it, Mr.Macey, so as you were likely to remember that marriage?" said the landlord, in a congratulatory tone.
"I should think there did--a _very_ partic'lar thing," said Mr.Macey, nodding sideways."For Mr.Drumlow--poor old gentleman, I was fond on him, though he'd got a bit confused in his head, what wi' age and wi' taking a drop o' summat warm when the service come of a cold morning.And young Mr.Lammeter, he'd have no way but he must be married in Janiwary, which, to be sure, 's a unreasonable time to be married in, for it isn't like a christening or a burying, as you can't help; and so Mr.Drumlow--poor old gentleman, I was fond on him--but when he come to put the questions, he put 'em by the rule o' contrairy, like, and he says, "Wilt thou have this man to thy wedded wife?" says he, and then he says, "Wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded husband?" says he.