Country life -- England -- Fiction; England -- Social life and customs -- 19th century -- Fiction; Pastoral fiction
During many weeks, the neighbourhood had been infested by a gang of
bold, sturdy pilferers, roving vagabonds, begging by day, stealing and
poaching by night--who had committed such extensive devastations
amongst the poultry and linen of the village, as well as the game in the
preserves, that the whole population was upon the alert; and the lonely
coppices of the Moors rendering that spot one peculiarly likely to
attract the attention of the gang, old Daniel, reinforced by a stout lad
as a sort of extra-guard, kept a most jealous watch over his territory.
Perambulating the outside of the wood one evening at sunset, he heard
the cry of a hare; and climbing over the fence, had the unexpected
pleasure of seeing our friend Jesse in the act of taking a leveret still
alive from the wire. "So, so, master Jesse! thou be'st turned poacher,
be'st thou?" ejaculated Daniel, with a malicious chuckle, seizing, at
one fell grip, the hare and the lad.
"Miss Phoebe!" ejaculated Jesse, submitting himself to the old man's
grasp, but struggling to retain the leveret; "Miss Phoebe!"
"Miss Phoebe, indeed!" responded Daniel; "she saved thee once, my lad,
but thy time's come now. What do'st thee want of the leveret, mon? Do'st
not thee know that 'tis part of the evidence against thee? Well, he may
carry that whilst I carry the snare. Master'll be main glad to see un.
He always suspected the chap. And for the matter of that so did I. Miss
Phoebe, indeed! Come along, my mon, I warrant thou hast seen thy last o'
Miss Phoebe. Come on wi' thee."
And Jesse was hurried as fast as Daniel's legs would carry him to the
presence of Farmer Cobham.
On entering the house (not the old deserted homestead of the Moors,
but the comfortable dwelling-house at Aberleigh) Jesse delivered the
panting, trembling leveret to the first person he met, with no other
explanation than might be comprised in the words, "Miss Phoebe!" and
followed Daniel quietly to the hall.
"Poaching, was he? Taking the hare from the wire? And you saw him?
You can swear to the fact?" quoth John Cobham, rubbing his hands with
unusual glee. "Well, now we shall be fairly rid of the fellow! Take
him to the Chequers for the night, Daniel, and get another man beside
yourself to sit up with him. It's too late to disturb Sir Robert this
evening. To-morrow morning we'll take him to the Hall. See that the
constable's ready by nine o'clock. No doubt but Sir Robert will commit
him to the county bridewell."
"Oh, grandpapa!" exclaimed Phoebe, darting into the room with the
leveret in her arms, and catching the last words. "Oh, grandpapa! poor
Jesse!"
"Miss Phoebe!" ejaculated the culprit
"Oh, grandfather, it's all my fault," continued Phoebe; "and if anybody
is to go to prison, you ought to send me. I had been reading about
Cowper's hares, and I wanted a young hare to tame: I took a fancy for
one, and told poor Jesse! And to think of his going to prison for that!"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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