Produced by Al Haines. *JOHN HERRING* _A WEST OF ENGLAND ROMANCE_ BY SABINE BARING-GOULD AUTHOR OF ’MEHALAH’ IN THREE VOLUMES VOL. I. LONDON SMITH, ELDER, & CO, 15 WATERLOO PLACE 1883 [All rights reserved] *PREFACE.* (_ADDRESSED TO THOSE WHO ARE NOT OF THE WEST COUNTRY._) In a tale of the West of England in which are introduced some of the lowest types of rustic humanity to be found there, it is impossible to avoid the use of the local dialect. This dialect has, however, been modified, as much as possible to render it intelligible without transforming it into the language of the schools. The vulgar dialect is regardless of gender and reckless in the use of cases. A cow is he, and a tom-cat wags her tail. At a trial in Exeter, at the Assizes, a man was charged with the murder of his wife, a woman with an aggravating tongue. The jury found a verdict of ’Not Guilty’ against the clearest evidence, and, when the Judge expressed his surprise, ’Ah, your lordship,’ said the foreman in explanation, ’us ain’t a-going to hang he for the likes of she.’ It is perhaps necessary to explain that ’the Cobbledicks’ are no creation of the imagination—the clan has only been dispersed of recent years; the old man who lived in a cyder-cask is dead, but he was alive ten years ago. The clan was literally one of half-naked savages. *CONTENTS* OF THE FIRST VOLUME CHAPTER I. The Cobbledicks II. What the Cask Did III. West Wyke IV. Mirelle V. The Owl’s Nest VI. That Old Tramplara VII. That Young Tramplara VIII. Cicely IX. Dolbeare X. A Musical Walking-Stick XI. The Giant’s Table XII. Ophir XIII. Captain Trecarrel XIV. Under The Hearth XV. Eheu, Bubones! XVI. Trustee not Executor XVII. In the Summer-House XVIII. Salting a Mine XIX. Two Strings to one Bow XX. Grinding Gold *JOHN HERRING.* *CHAPTER I.* *THE COBBLEDICKS.* ’Log!’ said the voice of Cobbledick the Old from a cyder cask. ’I be a logging like the blue blazes,’ answered Cobbledick the younger. Then a dry and dirty hand emerged from the cask, and with a gorse bush struck at the girl—that is, at Cobbledick the younger. She evaded the blow. ’Be quiet, vaither, or I won’t log no more!’ ’You won’t?’ with a horrible curse; ’then I’ll make you, if I whacks and whacks till you be all over blood and prickles. There, I will, I swear. Glory rallaluley!’