Bonfires were lighted everywhere, oxen roasted, and beer drunk by pailfuls; the country folks were drunk with joy, and something else; sung scurvy songs about Oliver to the tune of Barney Banks, and pelted his men, wherever they found them, with stones and dirt." "The more ungrateful scoundrels they," said I.

"Oliver and his men fought the battle of English independence against a wretched king and corrupt lords.

Had I been living at the time, I should have been proud to be a trooper of Oliver." "You would, measter, would you?
Well, I never quarrels with the opinions of people who come to look at the church, and certainly independence is a fine thing.

I like to see a chap of an independent spirit, and if I were now to see the cove who refused to sell his horse to my Lord Screw and Whitefeather, and let Jack Dale have him, I would offer to treat him to a pint of beer--e'es I would, verily.

Well, measter, you have now seen the church, and all there's in it worth seeing--so I'll just lock up, and go and finish digging the grave I was about when you came, after which I must go into the fair to see how matters are going on.