"Well, the shopman laffs, o' cou'se, but lets 'n ha' hes own way; an' th' ould man picked out the biggest--bright blue et was, suthin' the colour of a hedgy-sparrer's egg, an' shiny-clear like a glass-alley. They was a brave long while gettin' et fixed, 'cos 'twas so big. Ef he'd a-been content an' took a smaller wan, he'd ha' done better: but he was bound to be over-reachin', was th' ould varmint, an' so he comed to grief, as you shall hear. There's many folks i' this world be knowin' as Kate Mullet." "I never heard of that lady," said Mr. Fogo. "There's not much to know, sir, 'cept that they say her was hanged for a fool. Hows'ever, to shorten the yarn, ould Mennear got hes eye fixed at las', an' went home wi' Aunt Deb'rah so pleased as Punch. "Nex' Sunday 'twas Hamlet's Ghost 'mong the 'Rig'nal Seceders, an' no mistake! Some o' the female members fell to screamin' so soon as iver they clapped eyes on th' ould man, an' Sister Trudgeon was tuk wi' a fit, an' had to be carr'd out wi' two deacons to her head an' two to her heels, an' kickin' so that Deacon Hoskins cudn' master hes vittles for up a fortni't, he was that hurted internally. An' the wust was, that what wi' the rumpus an' her singin' out 'Pillaloo!' an' how the devil was amongst mun, havin' great wrath, the Lawyer's sarmon about a 'wecked an' 'dulterous generation seekin' arter a sign' was clean sp'iled. Arter the sarvice, too, there was a deal of discussin'. Some said 'twas senful to interfere wi' Natur' i' that way, an' wrong in a purfessin' Christian like Mennear; an' all agreed the new eye gave 'n a janjansy [6] kind o' look, 'as ef,' said Deacon Hoskins, 'he was blinchin' [7] fifty ways for Grace.' There was some talk, too, about axin' the old man to resign; but nuthin' came o't. An' arter a time, when the congregashun got a bit reconciled, folks began to allow the new eye improved Mennear's pulpit manner, an' guessed that, arter all, et mou't be a powerful engine for effectual salvashun. Et had a _dead_ appearance, ef you understands me, sir, and yet a sort o' gashly wakefulness, like a thing onhuman, 'cos o' cou'se et niver winked; th' ould man cudn' ha' winked, not for a fi'-pund note, for the thing was that big et strained his eyelid like a drum. 'Sides which, et had a way o' keepin' order 'mong the worshippers that you cudn' believe onless you seed it; for, let alone the colour o't, you niver knawed whether 'twas fixed on you or ten pews off, but somehow felt dead-sure 'twas you all the time, an' cudn' ha' moved, not if you had a blue-tailed fly inside the back o' your collar.