He was thrice married. His first and second wives I did not know; the third he married March 29th, 1838. She was afflicted with paralysis of her legs during a great part of her later life. She was a charming old woman--religious, amiable, and a general favourite with her neighbours. Old John had sharp features, an eagle nose, and a prominent chin. He wore drab corduroy breeches and blue stockings. He shaved all the hair off his face. The nickname he bore in the village, where he resided on his small farm, was "Mealy-Face." He obtained it by this means: John was a close-fisted old man, who stinted himself, and his wife above all, in every possible way, for he dearly loved money. He did not allow his wife enough food, and she, poor thing, was wont, when he was out for the day at market or at fair, to bake herself a loaf from which she could cut a hunch when hungry. Her husband found this out, and was very wroth. When he went to market he pressed his face down in the flour at the top of the bin, and on his return put his face back in the depressions, to make sure that the flour had not been disturbed. The old man was not without dry humour. The story is told of him that a clergyman called on him one day to say he was about to leave his present sphere of work, "the Lord having called him to work in another vineyard." "Then," said Old Mealy-Face, "I lay you get a better wage." "Yes," answered the clergyman, "it is a better living by a hundred a-year." "Heh! I thowt seah (so)," said John, dryly; "else the Lord mud ha' called while (till) he'd been hoarse, and ye'd niver ha' heeard." An excursionist met him on Whitson Scar, on the Hambledons. The traveller had come there from Thirsk, hoping to see the glorious view stretching to Pendle Hill, in Lancashire. But a fog came on and obscured the scene. The gentleman coming upon John, who had been to Helmsley on some business or other, accosted him in an off-hand manner: "Hey, gaffer! there's a fine view from here, ain't there, on fine days?" "Aye, sur, it might be worse." "One can see a long way, I'm told." "I reckon one may if one's got eyes." "Now tell me, gaffer, can one see as far as America, do you think?" "One can see a deel furder," answered John "You don't mean to say so?" "Eh, but I do. One can see t' moon from Whitston on a moonshiny neet." Old John had a famous pear-tree in his garden. Two years running his pears were stolen, and no doubt were sold in Thirsk market, without John being a penny the richer. The old man grimly awaited the thief as the fruit ripened in the following autumn, sitting nightly in his window, gun in hand. One dark night, just before market-day, he heard some one at his tree. He took careful aim at the spot whence the sound proceeded, fired, and a scream told him his bullet had taken effect. In fact, he had hit the thief in the thigh; but the ball had fortunately penetrated the flesh, and broken no bone.