It is, however, only since parsons have begun to see definite ends that they have assumed any steadfastness in their walk and directness in their course. In Fielding's time the country parsons wore their cassocks as a usual dress. "Adams stood up," he relates, "and presented a figure to the gentleman which would have moved laughter in many, for his cassock had just fallen down below his great-coat, that is to say, it reached his knees, whereas the skirts of his great-coat descended no lower than half-way down his thighs." [Illustration: Parson in cassock.] The bands were always worn, the makeshift for the old Steenkirk tie of fine white linen edged with more or less deep lace. Knee-breeches, buckled shoes, and a black cocked hat completed his attire. Some of the old Derby Uncle Toby jugs represent the beer-drinking parson of an age a little later. The cassock has disappeared, and he wears a clerical long black coat, with bands and white stockings. The apron of the bishop is the reminiscence of the cassock, as the hat tied up with strings of the archdeacon is the last survival of the cocked hat. The parson and his parishioners were on very good terms. When the Vicar of Wakefield came to his new cure, the village turned out to meet him with pipe and drum. Nevertheless there was occasional friction, mainly, if not altogether, relative to tithe gathering. There is a harvest-home song Dryden wrote for, or introduced into his play, _King Arthur; or, The British Worthy_, in 1691, which forms part of the enchantments of Merlin, and is sung by Comus and a set of peasants-- "We have cheated the parson, we'll cheat him again, For why should a blockhead have one in ten? One in ten, One in ten; For why should a blockhead have one in ten, For prating so long, like a book-learned sot, Till pudding and dumpling burn to pot? Burn to pot." There can be little question that the parson did get cheated over and over again, and bore it without a murmur. An amusing ballad is sung to this day in the west of England relative to the way in which parsons were treated by their parishioners-- "There wor a man in our town, I knowed him well, 'twor Passon Brown, A man of credit and renown, For--he wor _our_ Passon. Passon he had got a sheep, Merry Christmas he would keep; Decent Passon he--and cheap, Well-spoke--and not a cross 'un. Us had gotten nort to eat, So us stole the Passon's sheep-- Merry Christmas us would keep; We ate 'n for our dinner. Us enjoyed our Christmas day; Passon preached, and said, 'Let's pray, But I'm a fasting saint; aye, aye! You'm each a wicked sinner.' Cruel vex'd wor Passon Brown, Sick to death he laid him down Passonless was soon our town, For why?--we'd starved our Passon.