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"Miranda!"
"Good evening, deare Scholares. What have you killed?"
"Why, nothing, Miranda," sayz Mr Meldreth in great excitement. "We have had a strange adventure as we must tell you. From the moment that we reached Lickerish Hill, Plato, Socrates and Euclid…" (He meanes the dogges that the Pharisee calles Wicked, Worse and Worst-of-all) "… ra
"Yes, indeed!" sayz Mr Shepreth, "And one dark sulkie fellow among us cried out that we must have fallen by mistake into some Fairie-kingdome under the ground where Beastes revenge them-selves upon Men for the harms done to them on Earth; and Dr Foxton began to speak of wild rides that go on for all Eternity and enchanted riders who ca
"We stopp't suddenlie in a little green meadow in the dark woods. The meadow waz full of flowers and the sulkie man sayd that such flowers had never before been seen anie-where. But Sir John sayd he waz a fool and Sir John sayd he knew the names of the flowers as well as his own – they were Shepherds' Sun-dialls, Milkmaydes' Buttons and Dodmans' Combs. In the middle of the meadow waz a little chalke pit. This old pit waz mostly hidden by tall grasses and the flowers that Sir John had named. And out of the pit came a noyse of humming. The men held back the dogges – to their very Great Distresse – and we went very quiet to the pit and look't down. And what doe you thinke we sawe there?"
"I doe not know, Dr Foxton."
"A Fairye, Miranda! And what doe you thinke it waz doing?" "I ca
"Well!" sayz Mr Aubrey, "It had a little spi
"I am entirelie astonished," sayz I. "But what did you learne? What did the Pharisee tell you?"
"Nothing," sayz Dr Foxton crossly. "We asked it our hundred and fortie-seaven questions – which is the reason of our staying so long on Lickerish Hill and coming home so late to di
We are all silent a moment.
"But it listened to all your questions," sayz I, "That is strange. It would not so much as come when you summoned it before."
"Quite, Miranda," sayz Mr Aubrey, "And the reason is that we had not gott its name before. The wordes of the Spell and its owne true name held it fast. It waz obliged to hear us out – though it yearn'd to goe on with its worke – it had gott a fearful great pile of flax to spi
We are all silent againe.
"And what did it sing?" sayz I.
"It sang: 'Nimmy, Nimmy Not; My name's Tom Tit Tot.'" sayz Mr Aubrey.
"Well!" sayz I, "I am very glad, deare Scholars, to heare that you have seen a Pharisee, but I am happier still that you have gott safe home againe. Goe to your di
Now comes the Pharisee creeping through the evening mist with the skeins of spun flax upon his arme. First I shall guess Solomon then I shall guess Zebedee. But then I must tell him his name and poore Tom Tit Tot must goe howling awaie to his cold and lonelie hole.
Now comes Sir John, all Frowne and Shadowe, on a horse as blacke as a tempest, with Wicked, Worse and Worst-of-all beside him. And when he haz seen the spun flax then he and I shall goe downe together to eate and drinke with the happy Scholars who even now are composing a chearfull song about four gentlemen who once sawe a Pharisee. And all our good Servants shall come home and each shall have sixpence to drinke Sir John's healthe.
"I am writing my historie," sayz I, "Where doe I begin?"
"Oh!" sayz Mr Aubrey, "begin where you chuse, Miranda, but putte it downe very quick while it is fresh and sprightly in your Braine. For remembrances are like butterflies and just as you thinke you have them flie out of the window. If all the thinges I have forgott, Miranda, were putte into His Majesties Navy, 'twould sink the fleet."
Among the many sources she drew upon for this story the author would particularly like to acknowledge folklorist Edward Clodd's wondeful 1898 rendition of Tom Tit Tot in Suffolk dialect.
Mrs. Mabb
IN THE LATE spring of 18- a lady in the village of Kissingland in D-shire suffered a bitter disappointment.
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"… and I know, my dear Clara, that you will share my vexation when I tell you what has happened. Some months ago my sister, Miss Moore, had the good fortune to captivate an officer in the Regulars. Captain Fox shewed a decided preference for Venetia from the start and I was in great hopes of seeing her respectably settled when, by a stroke of ill fortune, she received a letter from an acquaintance, a lady in Manchester who had fallen sick and was in need of someone to nurse her. You may imagine how little I liked that she should leave Kissingland at such a time, but I found that, in spite of all I could say, she was determined to undertake the expense and inconvenience of the journey and go. But now I fear she is too well punished for her obstinacy, for in her absence the wretched Captain Fox has forgot her entirely and has begun to pay his respects to another lady, a neighbour of ours, Mrs Mabb. You may well believe that when she comes back I will always be quarrelling with her about it…"
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