“Age? Age is an empty thing without a memory,” I remarked. “But what a memory you have, Mrs. Trendall! I shouldn't wonder if you recollected the news of Nelson's victory at Trafalgar arriving in England--oh no: that was too long ago even for you.” She bridled up in a moment. “Too long ago for me?--too long, quotha! Don't I mind it as if it happened no earlier'n last week? It were before I married my first. It were my father that came a-bustling hasty like and wi' a face rosy wi' beer and hurry, and says he, 'Nelson has broke the Frenchies on us--broke them noble, and we may look for'un coming home any day now,' says he; and there wasn't a sober man in the five parishes that night--no, not a one. Ay, those was times!” “Surely--surely,” I acquiesced. “But now that you can look back on them quite calmly in the afternoon of your life, would you really say that they were more lively times than when the Duke of Marlborough was doing his fighting for us? You've heard your mother speak of Marlborough, I'm sure.” “My mother--speak! Why, I see'un for myself wi' these very eyes when he come home from the wars--a nice, well-set-up gentleman, if so be that I know what'tis to be a gentleman. It was when he come to pay his respex to Squire Longden at Old Deane--the squire that married thrice, as they said, the first for love, the second for lucre, and the third for--for--now was it for liquor or learning?--Well, 'twere one of the two. Ay, sir, those was the times--before there was any talk about Prince Albert and the Christian Palace in London.” “I should rather think so. And if you are old enough to remember seeing the great Duke of Marlborough, I am sure that you may remember seeing Oliver Cromwell when he came through Thurswell with his army?” “Oliver Cromwell? You've spoke the truth, sir. I see'un once--on'y once, to be exact. I mind'un well.'Twere in the mid o' hay harvest, and father come up to us in a mortial great haste, and says he, 'Martha lass, throw down that rake and I'll show you the greatest sight o' your life--Cromwell hisself on a mighty skewbald.' And, sure enough, there he was a-galloping at the head of a fine army o' men, with guns a-rumbling and the bugles blowing--grand as a circus--ay, Batty's Circus with all the fun about Jump Jim Crow and Billy Barlow and the rest. Oh, I saw'un sure.” “And Queen Elizabeth--I wonder if you ever chanced to see her?”