As for poor Tom Faggus, every one knows his bitter adventures, when his pardon was recalled, because of his journey to Sedgemoor.  Not a child in the country, I doubt, but knows far more than I do of Tom’s most desperate doings.  The law had ruined him once, he said; and then he had been too much for the law:  and now that a quiet life was his object, here the base thing came after him.  And such was his dread of this evil spirit, that being caught upon Barnstaple Bridge, with soldiers at either end of it (yet doubtful about approaching him), he set his strawberry mare, sweet Winnie, at the left-hand parapet, with a whisper into her dove-coloured ear.  Without a moment’s doubt she leaped it, into the foaming tide, and swam, and landed according to orders.  Also his flight from a public-house (where a trap was set for him, but Winnie came and broke down the door, and put two men under, and trod on them,) is as well known as any ballad.  It was reported for awhile that poor Tom had been caught at last, by means of his fondness for liquor, and was hanged before Taunton Jail; but luckily we knew better.  With a good wife, and a wonderful horse, and all the country attached to him, he kept the law at a wholesome distance, until it became too much for its master; and a new king arose.  Upon this, Tom sued his pardon afresh; and Jeremy Stickles, who suited the times, was glad to help him in getting it, as well as a compensation.  Thereafter the good and respectable Tom lived a godly (though not always sober) life; and brought up his children to honesty, as the first of all qualifications.

My dear mother was as happy as possibly need be with us; having no cause for jealousy, as others arose around her.  And everybody was well pleased, when Lizzy came in one day and tossed her bookshelf over, and declared that she would have Captain Bloxham, and nobody should prevent her.  For that he alone, of all the men she had ever met with, knew good writing when he saw it, and could spell a word when told.  As he had now succeeded to Captain Stickle’s position (Stickles going up the tree), and had the power of collecting, and of keeping, what he liked, there was nothing to be said against it; and we hoped that he would pay her out.

I sent little Ensie to Blundell’s school, at my own cost and charges, having changed his name, for fear of what anyone might do to him.  I called him Ensie Jones; and we got him a commission, and after many scrapes of spirit, he did great things in the Low Countries.  He looks upon me as his father; and without my leave will not lay claim to the heritage and title of the Doones, which clearly belong to him.