{221b} The following account of Billy Bolton may, with propriety, be inserted here:—It was a lovely September day, and the scene was Arncliffe, a retired village in Littondale, one of the most secluded of the Yorkshire dales. While sitting at the open window of the humble hostelrie, we heard what we, at first, thought was a _ranter_ parson, but, on inquiry, were told it was old Billy Bolton reading to a crowd of villagers. Curious to ascertain what the minstrel was reading, we joined the crowd, and found the text-book was a volume of Hume’s _England_, which contained the reign of Elizabeth. Billy read in a clear voice, with proper emphasis, and correct pronunciation, interlarding his reading with numerous comments, the nature of some of which may be readily inferred from the fact that the minstrel belonged to what he called ‘the ancient church.’ It was a scene for a painter; the village situate in one of the deepest parts of the dale, the twilight hour, the attentive listeners, and the old man, leaning on his knife-grinding machine, and conveying popular information to a simple peasantry. Bolton is in the constant habit of so doing, and is really an extraordinary man, uniting, as he does, the opposite occupations of minstrel, conjuror, knife-grinder, and schoolmaster. Such a labourer (though an humble one) in the great cause of human improvement is well deserving of this brief notice, which it would be unjust to conclude without stating that whenever the itinerant teacher takes occasion to speak of his own creed, and contrast it with others, he does so in a spirit of charity; and he never performs any of his sleight-of-hand tricks without a few introductory remarks on the evil of superstition, and the folly of supposing that in the present age any mortal is endowed with supernatural attainments. {224} This elastic opening might be adapted to existing circumstances by a slight alteration:— The praise of a dairy to tell you I mean, But all things in order, first God save the Queen. The common copies print ‘God save the Queen,’ which of course destroys the rhyme. {225} This is the reading of a common stall copy. Chappell reads— ‘For at Tottenham-court,’ which is no doubt correct, though inapplicable to a rural assembly in our days. {226a} Brew, or broo, or broth. Chappell’s version reads, ‘No state you can think,’ which is apparently a mistake. The reading of the common copies is to be preferred. {226b} No doubt the original word in these places was _sack_, as in Chappell’s copy—but what would a peasant understand by _sack_? Dryden’s receipt for a sack posset is as follows:— ‘From fair Barbadoes, on the western main, Fetch sugar half-a-pound: fetch sack, from Spain, A pint: then fetch, from India’s fertile coast, Nutmeg, the glory of the British toast.’ _Miscellany Poems_, v. 138.