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UNDER THE GREENWOOD TREE.

'Mayble's a hearty feller,' the tranter replied, 'and will spak to you be you dirty or be you clane. The first time I met en was in a drong, and though 'a didn't know me no more than the dead, 'a passed the time of day. "D'ye do?" he said, says he, nodding his head, "A fine day." Then the second time I met en was full-buff in town street, when my breeches were tore all to strents and lippets by getting through a copse of thorns and brimbles for a short cut home-along; and not wanting to disgrace the man by spaking in that state, I fixed my eye on the weathercock to let en pass me as a stranger. But no: "How d'ye do, Reuben?" says he, right hearty. If I'd been dressed in silver spangles from top to toe, the man couldn't have been civiller.'

At this moment Dick was seen coming up the village-street, and they turned and watched him.

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