"The credulous farmer thereupon mortgaged his little estate for L100, and everything necessary being bought for the new married couple, they took the rest of the money and set out for London, accompanied by three of the farmer's friends, and got to the Bear Inn, in the Borough, on Christmas eve; where they lived for about ten days in an expensive manner; and she went in a coach every morning to St. James's end of the town, on pretence of soliciting for her husband's commission, and to obtain her own fortune. But it was at length discovered that the woman was an impostor; and the poor country people were obliged to sell their horses by auction towards defraying the expenses of the inn before they could set out on their return home, which they did on foot, last Saturday morning." If the hundred pounds raised on mortgage had covered all the expenses incurred, the Rocliffes might have been satisfied. Unhappily they got further involved. They fell into the hands of a lawyer in Portsmouth, who undertook to see them righted, but the only advantage they gained from his intervention was the acquisition of certain information that the woman who had married Thomas had been married before. Accordingly Thomas was free, and he used his freedom some years later, when of a ripe age, to marry Sarah Kink, the sister of Bideabout. Rocliffe had never been able to shake himself free of the ridicule that attended to him, after the expedition to London, and what was infinitely more vexatious and worse to endure was the burden of debt that had then been incurred, and which was more than doubled through the activity of the lawyer by whom he had been inveigled into submitting himself and his affairs to him. As the eating and drinking proceeded, the Broom-Squire drank copiously, became noisy, boastful, and threw out sarcastic remarks calculated to hit those who ate and drank with him, but were mainly directed against those of his own family who had absented themselves, but to whose ears he was confident they would be wafted. Mehetabel, who saw that he was imbibing more than he could bear without becoming quarrelsome lost her pallor, and a hectic flame kindled in her cheek. Mrs. Verstage looked on uneasily. She was familiar with the moods of Bideabout, and feared the turn matters would take. Presently he announced that he would sing a song, and in harsh tones began:-- "A cobbler there was, and he lived in a stall, But Charlotte, my nymph, had no lodging at all. And at a Broom-Squire's, in pitiful plight, Did pray and beseech for a lodging one night, Derry-down, derry-down. "She asked for admittance, her story to tell. Of all her misfortunes, and what her befel, Of her parentage high,--but so great was her grief, Shed never a comfort to give her relief, Derry-down, derry-down. [2]