“Oh, I’ve been and begged me some buttermilk, mother, Off of an owld ’oman as has girt store; And I shall well rewarded be, Vor she’s g’in me haf a gallon or mwore. “Oh mother, my buttermilk I will sell, And all for a penny as you med zee; And with my penny then I will buy eggs, Vor I shall have seven for my pennèy. “Oh mother, I’ll set them all under our hen, And seven cock chickens might chance for to be; But seven cock chickens or seven cap hens, There’ll be seven half-crownds for me. “Oh, I’ll go carry them to market, mother, And nothing but vine volk shall I zee; And with my money then I will buy land, Zo as a landlord I med be.” “Oh my dear zon, wilt thee know me, When thee hast gotten great store of wealth?” “Oh, my dear mother, how shall I know thee, When I shall hardly know my own self?” With that the owld ’oman she flew in a passion, And dashed her son Jack up agin the wall, And his head caught the shelf where the buttermilk stood, So down came the buttermilk, pitcher and all. Zo aal you as has got an old hen for to sett, Both by night and by day mind you has her well watched, Lest you should be like unto Buttermilk Jack, To reckon your chickens before thay are hatched. “Well, I must be moving,” said the Doctor at last, looking at his watch; “how do you get home, Mr. Hurst?” “Bless us! near nine o’clock,” said Joe, following the Doctor’s example; “oh, I ride myself, and my friend here talks of going behind.” “Better not ride double, the night’s dark,” said the Doctor, hoisting on his overcoat with Peter’s help. “If he likes to take his luck in my gig, I can put him down at your gate. What do you say, Sir?” I thankfully accepted; for I didn’t at all like the notion of riding behind Joe on the chestnut, and I can’t think how I could ever have been such a fool as to say I would do it. The Doctor had two bright lamps to his gig, which gave us glimpses of the closed booths and camping places of the people who were going to stay on the hill all night, as we drove out of the Castle. I suggested that it must be very bad for the people sleeping out up there. “For their health?” said he, “not a bit of it, on a fine night like this--do ’em good; I wish they always slept so healthily.” “I didn’t quite mean that, Sir!” “Oh, for their morals? Well, I don’t know that there’s much harm done. I’m sorry to say they’re used to crowding--and, after all, very few but the owners of the booths, and the regular tramps, stay up here. Didn’t you see how quiet every thing was?” I said I had noticed this; and then he began asking me about the sports, for he had only got on to the hill late in the afternoon; and when we came to the wrestling and backsword play, I asked him whether he thought they did any harm.