with his own share.  Timothy and I went to the pump, and had a good refreshing wash, and then for a shilling were permitted to make a very hearty breakfast.  The wagon having remained about an hour, the driver gave us notice of his departure; but the doctor was no where to be found.  After a little delay, the wagoner drove off, cursing him for a bilk, and vowing that he’d never have any more to do with a “lamed man.”  In the mean time, Timothy and I had taken our seats in the wagon, in company with the fool, and Master Jumbo.  We commenced a conversation with the former, and soon found out, as the doctor had asserted, that he really was an idiot, so much so, that it was painful to converse with him.  As for the latter, he had coiled himself away to take a little more sleep.  I forgot to mention, that the boy was dressed much in the same way as the fool, in an old spangled jacket, and dirty white trousers.  For about an hour Timothy and I conversed, remarking upon the strange disappearance of the doctor, especially as he had given us hopes of employing us; in accepting which offer, if ever it should be made, we had not made up our minds, when we were interrupted with a voice crying out, “Hillo, my man, can you give a chap a lift as far as Reading, for a shilling?”

“Ay, get up, and welcome,” replied the wagoner.

The wagon did not stop, but in a moment or two the new passenger climbed in.  He was dressed in a clean smock frock, neatly worked up the front, leather gaiters, and stout shoes; a bundle and a stick were in his hand.  He smiled as he looked round upon the company, and showed a beautiful set of teeth.  His face was dark, and sun-burnt, but very handsome, and his eyes as black as coals, and as brilliant as gas.  “Heh! player folk—­I’ve a notion,” said he, as he sat down, looking at the doctor’s attendants, and laughing at us.  “Have you come far, gentlemen?” continued he.

“From London,” was my reply.

“How do the crops look up above, for down here the turnips seem to have failed altogether?  Dry seasons won’t do for turnips.”

I replied that I really could not satisfy him on that point, as it was dark when we passed.

“Very true—­I had forgotten that,” replied he.  “However, the barleys look well; but perhaps you don’t understand farming?”

I replied in the negative, and the conversation was kept up for two or three hours, in the course of which I mentioned the quack doctor, and his strange departure.

“That is the fellow who cured so many people at ——­,” replied he; and the conversation then turned upon his profession and mode of life, which Timothy and I agreed must be very amusing.  “We shall meet him again, I dare say,” replied the man.  “Would you know him?”

“I think so, indeed,” replied Timothy, laughing.

“Yes, and so you would think that you would know a guinea from a halfpenny, if I put it into your hands,” replied the man.  “I do not wish to lay a bet, and win your money; but I tell you, that I will put either the one or the other into each of your hands, and if you hold it fast for one minute, and shut your eyes during that time, you will not be able to tell me which it is that you have in it.”