he was about to leave his present sphere of work, "the Lord having called him to work in another vineyard."
"Then," said Old Mealy-Face, "I lay you get a better wage."
"Yes," answered the clergyman, "it is a better living by a hundred a-year."
"Heh! I thowt seah (so)," said John, dryly; "else the Lord mud ha' called while (till) he'd been hoarse, and ye'd niver ha' heeard."
An excursionist met him on Whitson Scar, on the Hambledons. The traveller had come there from Thirsk, hoping to see the glorious view stretching to Pendle Hill, in Lancashire. But a fog came on and obscured the scene. The gentleman coming upon John, who had been to Helmsley on some business or other, accosted him in an off-hand manner:
"Hey, gaffer! there's a fine view from here, ain't there, on fine days?"
"Aye, sur, it might be worse."
"One can see a long way, I'm told."
"I reckon one may if one's got eyes."
"Now tell me, gaffer, can one see as far as America, do you think?"
"One can see a deel furder," answered John.
"You don't mean to say so?"
"Eh, but I do. One can see t' moon from Whitston on a moonshiny neet."
Old John had a famous pear-tree in his garden. Two years running his pears were stolen, and no doubt were sold in Thirsk market, without John being a penny the richer. The old man grimly awaited the thief as the fruit ripened in the following autumn, sitting nightly in his window, gun in hand.
One dark night, just before market-day, he heard some
