Now was his joy mingled with sorrow, for though he had cleared the island of those ravenous savage beasts, yet his grief was intolerable for the loss of his old friend. Home he returned to his lady, where, in token of joy for the wonderful success which he had in his dangerous enterprises, he made a very noble and splendid feast, to which he invited most of his best friends and acquaintances, to whom he made the following promise— “My friends, while I have strength to stand, Most manfully I will pursue All dangers, till I clear this land Of lions, bears, and tigers too. This you’ll find true, or I’m to blame, Let it remain upon record, Tom Hickathrift’s most glorious fame, Who never yet has broke his word. The man who does his country bless Shall merit much from this fair land; He who relieved them in distress His fame upon record shall stand. And you, my friends, who hear me now, Let honest Tom for ever dwell Within your minds and thoughts, I trow, Since he has pleased you all so well.” THE SPECTRE COACH. Cobblers are a thoughtful race of men, and Tom Shanks was one of their number. He lived in the little village of Acton, in Suffolk, and it was there that an adventure befell him, which, as I am informed by a grandson of his, “had an effect on him from that day to this”—though the “this” in the present case is of a somewhat vague meaning, seeing that Tom has unfortunately been dead some twenty years at least. The terrible adventure that befell him was so much the subject of Tom’s talk, that if ever tale could be handed down by means of oral tradition sure Tom’s story should be intact in every detail. It seems that one day Tom left Acton on a journey—quite a remarkable event for him, for he was a quiet–going fellow, not given to running away from his last, but sitting contentedly in his little shop, busily employed in providing his neighbours with good foot–gear. On this day, however, Tom was called away by the intelligence that a sister of his, who was in service in a town some little distance away, was ill and wished to see him. The little cobbler was a man with a warm heart, and as soon as he received this ill news he laid aside a pair of shoes he was on for the parson, and which he was very anxious to finish, for the sooner he touched the money the better for him and his; put on his best coat, took his stick in his hand, and, having bid farewell to his wife and three little ones, went on his way, looking back now and then to shake his stick to them, till he came to the turn in the road by the side of the high trees when he could see them no more.