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"But you didn't see no signs o' Jarge, did ye?" demanded Old Amos, "as ye might say, neither 'ide nor 'air of 'im speak up, James Dutton." "W'ich, since you axes me, I makes so bold as to answer an' very glad I'm sure no; though as to 'ide an' 'air, I aren't wishin' to swear to, me not bein' near enough w'ich could only be expected, an' very much obliged, I'm sure."
There was a moment's breathless silence as the hammer hurtled through the air, then, like an echo to its fall, came a shout of laughter, for the distance was palpably far short of the giant smith's last. A moment later Job came pacing up, and announced: "Eighty-seven!" Hereupon arose a very babel of voices: "You've got un beat a'ready, Jarge!" "Well, I knowed it from the start!"
What would have been the end I cannot say, but there came upon the stillness the sound of flying footsteps, the crowd was burst asunder, and a girl stood before us, a tall, handsome girl with raven hair, and great, flashing black eyes. "Oh! you, Jarge, think shame on yourself think shame on yourself, Black Jarge.
"No, indeed, Ancient!" "Wishful to wed 'im, she is, an' so she shall. Lordy Lord! Kiss me again, Prue, for I be goin' to see Squire ay, I be goin' to up an' speak wi' Squire for Jarge an' Peter be comin' too." "Oh, Mr. Peter!" faltered Prudence, "be this true?" and in her eyes was the light of a sudden hope. "Yes," I nodded. "D'you think Squire'll see you listen to you?" she cried breathlessly.
Jarge 'ad strung up 'is 'ammer for another blow when, all at once, theer comes a scream." Here Simon shivered involuntarily, and glanced uneasily over his shoulder, and round the room. "A scream?" said I. "Ah!" nodded Simon, "but 'twere worse nor that."
"Many's the time I've said to you a-sittin' in this very corner, 'Jarge, I've said, 'mark my words, Jarge if ever my Prue does marry some'un which she will that there some 'un won't be you. Them be my very words, bean't they, Jarge?" "Your very words, Gaffer," nodded George. "Well then," continued the old man, "'ere's what I was a-comin' to Prue 's been an' fell in love wi' some 'un at last."
How bowed the woods beneath their sturdy stroke." GRAY'S Elegy. Jarge was one of the most prominent characters among my men. He was not a native of the Vale, coming from the Lynches, a hilly district to the north of Evesham. He was a sturdy and very excellent workman. He did with his might whatsoever his hand found to do, and everything he undertook was a success.
"'Er's bound to last 'nother year." For the first time there was concern in his voice. Adversity does not grip the mind of the Cornish fisherfolk suddenly. It filters slowly through the chinks of the armour God has given them. It may be that they, in their turn, bequeathed a strain of Southern fatalism to many of their benefactors. "'Er's bound to," repeated Ole Jarge.
"A fule's journey!" remarked Old Amos sententiously, with a wave of his pipe; "a fule's journey!" The Ancient cast an observing eye up at the cloudless sky, and also nodded solemnly. "Theer be some fules in this world, Peter, as mixes up rabbits wi' pa'tridges, and honest men like Jarge wi' thieves, an' lazy waggabones like Job but we'll show 'em, Peter, we'll show 'em dang 'em!
I cannot believe this story of the priest among the Electors, and my disbelief is based on experience of elective bodies. Can you imagine the Parish Council, in the throes of electing a suitable person to keep the village pump in order, being confronted by a mysterious stranger who suddenly interrupts the proceedings by singing the praises of "good old Jarge" to the accompaniment of an accordion?
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