* Lest John Fry seem to under-rate the erudition of Devonshire magistrates, I venture to offer copy of a letter from a Justice of the Peace to his bookseller, circa 1810 A.D., now in my possession:—­

’Sur.
‘plez to zen me the aks relatting to A-gustus-paks,’

—­Ed. of L.D.

[Emphasized this in original]

“Then a waving of hats began, and a bowing, and making of legs to wan anather, sich as nayver wor zeed afore; but none of ’em arl, for air and brading, cud coom anaigh the gentleman with the long grave face.

“‘Your warships have posted the men right well,’ saith he with anather bow all round; ’surely that big rogue will have no chance left among so many valiant musketeers.  Ha! what see I there, my friend?  Rust in the pan of your gun!  That gun would never go off, sure as I am the King’s Commissioner.  And I see another just as bad; and lo, there the third!  Pardon me, gentlemen, I have been so used to His Majesty’s Ordnance-yards.  But I fear that bold rogue would ride through all of you, and laugh at your worship’s beards, by George.’

“‘But what shall us do?’ Squire Maunder axed; ’I vear there be no oil here.’

“’Discharge your pieces, gentlemen, and let the men do the same; or at least let us try to discharge them, and load again with fresh powder.  It is the fog of the morning hath spoiled the priming.  That rogue is not in sight yet:  but God knows we must not be asleep with him, or what will His Majesty say to me, if we let him slip once more?’

“‘Excellent, wondrous well said, good sir,’ Squire Maunder answered him; ’I never should have thought of that now.  Bill Blacksmith, tell all the men to be ready to shoot up into the air, directly I give the word.  Now, are you ready there, Bill?’

“‘All ready, your worship,’ saith Bill, saluting like a soldier.

“‘Then, one, two, dree, and shutt!’ cries Squire Maunder, standing up in the irons of his stirrups.

“Thereupon they all blazed out, and the noise of it went all round the hills; with a girt thick cloud arising, and all the air smelling of powder.  Before the cloud was gone so much as ten yards on the wind, the gentleman on the cue-bald horse shuts up his face like a pair of nut-cracks, as wide as it was long before, and out he pulls two girt pistols longside of zaddle, and clap’th one to Squire Maunder’s head, and tother to Sir Richard Blewitt’s.

“‘Hand forth your money and all your warrants,’ he saith like a clap of thunder; ‘gentlemen, have you now the wit to apprehend Tom Faggus?’

[Illustration:  339.jpg Hand forth your money]

“Squire Maunder swore so that he ought to be fined; but he pulled out his purse none the slower for that, and so did Sir Richard Blewitt.

“’First man I see go to load a gun, I’ll gi’e ’un the bullet to do it with,’ said Tom; for you see it was him and no other, looking quietly round upon all of them.  Then he robbed all the rest of their warships, as pleasant as might be; and he saith, ’Now, gentlemen, do your duty:  serve your warrants afore you imprison me’; with that he made them give up all the warrants, and he stuck them in the band of his hat, and then he made a bow with it.