The Broad Highway - Page 34/374

How long I slept I have no idea, but when I opened my eyes it was

to find the moon shining down on me from a cloudless heaven; the

wind also had died away; it seemed my early fears of a wild night

were not to be fulfilled, and for this I was sufficiently grateful.

Now as I lay, blinking up to the moon, I presently noticed that we

had come to a standstill and I listened expectantly for the jingle

of harness and creak of the wheels to recommence. "Strange!" said

I to myself, after having waited vainly some little time, and

wondering what could cause the delay, I sat up and looked about me.

The first object my eyes encountered was a haystack and, beyond

that, another, with, a little to one side, a row of barns, and

again beyond these, a great, rambling farmhouse. Evidently the

wain had reached its destination, wherever that might be, and the

sleepy wagoner, forgetful of my presence, had tumbled off to bed.

The which I thought so excellent an example that I lay down again,

and, drawing the loose hay over me, closed my eyes, and once more

fell asleep.

My second awakening was gradual. I at first became conscious of

a sound, rising and falling with a certain monotonous regularity,

that my drowsy ears could make nothing of. Little by little,

however, the sound developed itself into a somewhat mournful

melody or refrain, chanted by a not unmusical voice. I yawned

and, having stretched myself, sat up to look and listen. And the

words of the song were these: "When a man, who muffins cries,

Cries not, when his father dies,

'Tis a proof that he would rather

Have a muffin than his father."

The singer was a tall, strapping fellow with a good-tempered

face, whose ruddy health was set off by a handsome pair of black

whiskers. As I watched him, he laid aside the pitchfork he had

been using, and approached the wagon, but, chancing to look up,

his eye met mine, and he stopped: "Hulloa!" he exclaimed, breaking short off in the middle of a

note, "hulloa!"

"Hallo!" said I.

"W'at be doin' up theer?"

"I was thinking," I returned, "that, under certain circumstances,

I, for one, could not blame the individual, mentioned in your

song, for his passionate attachment to muffins. At this precise

moment a muffin--or, say, five or six, would be highly acceptable,

personally."

"Be you partial to muffins, then?"

"Yes, indeed," said I, "more especially seeing I have not broken

my fast since midday yesterday."