"Well, I didn't know what to do, when one day I sees Charley Shott comin' out o' our churchyard. 'Sam,' he says, 'I've just been sniffin' round inside the church, and there she is, all alive and kickin'!' 'What's all alive and kickin'?' I says. 'The old smell,' says he; 'come inside, and I'll show you where she is.' So I follows Charley Shott into the church, and he takes me round to where the old tomb is, in the north transep'. 'Now,' he says, 'take a whiff o' that, Sam.' 'Charley,' I says, 'it's the right smell sure enough; and if only she won't wear off, I'll sit in this corner to the end o' my days.' 'She's not likely to wear off,' he says; 'she comes from the old tomb. It's a mixture o' damp and dust. Now, the damp's all right, because the heatin' pipes don't come round here; and, besides, the sun never gets into this corner. And as to the dust, you just take your pocket-handkerchief and give a flick or two round the bottom o' the tomb. That'll freshen her up any time.' "Well, you may laugh; but I tell you it's as true as I'm sittin' here. I allus goes to church in good time, and if my corner don't smell true, I just dusts her up a bit, and then she's as right as a trivet." "But," I said, "you were going to tell me about the tall hat." "Ha, so I was," replied Ferryman; "but the hat made me think o' the church, and that put me off. Well, it's no doin' o' mine that you see that hat where it is to-night. If I had my way it 'ud be in the place where it came from, and fifteen shillin's that's in another place 'ud be in my pocket. I'm not used to 'em, and what's more I never shall be. But a weddin's a weddin', and your niece is your niece, and when your missis says you've got to wear one--why, what's the use o' sayin' you won't? However, that's not the first tall hat as I've worn." "Tell me about the others," I said. "There was only one other, and that other was one 'other' too many for me," replied the farmer. "It's seven years come next hay harvest since my wife come into a bit of money as had been left her by her aunt. 'Sam,' she says to me, 'we got a rise, and we must act up to it.' 'Right you are,' I says; 'but how are you goin' to start?' 'Well,' she says, 'the first thing you've got to do is to leave off wearing billy-cocks on Sundays and buy a box-hat,' 'Polished 'ats,' I says, 'is for polished 'eads, and mine was ordered plain,' 'If there's no polish on your 'ead,' says she, 'that's a reason for having some on your 'at.'