"'Tis an ill life, pal!"
"Why, life is an ill thing!" says I.
"Nay, look'ee, Martin, life may be worth whiles now and then--aye, lad, there be times, good times."
"What times?"
"Well, Martin, to lie snug 'neath hedge o' star-time, when your fire's low an' the stars peep down through leaves at a man--wink, they go, and wink, wink, till, watching 'em, a man forgets his troubles awhile and knows something o' content. Aha, many's the time o' star-time they have winked me and my troubles asleep. Then there's wakings o' bird-time, wi' the sun up, dew a-sparkle and life calling within ye and without, and the birds--O the birds, Martin--a-filling the world wi' brave songs o' hope new-born like the day! Ah, many's the morn the birds ha' waked me and I as merry as any grig--Lord love their beaks and wings! There's hay-time o' the evening full o' soft, sweet smells--aye, sweet as lad's first kiss; there's wheat-time at noon wi' the ears a-rustle and the whitt-whitt o' scythe and whetstone; there's night, Martin, and the long, black road dipping and a-winding, but wi' the beam o' light beyond, lad--the good light as tells o' journey done, of companionship and welcomes and belike--eyes o' love, with--"
"Lusty ale!" quoth Roger, setting three new-filled pipkins before us. "And none better nor ourn--eh, wife?"
"That I do swear to, Roger!" laughed the peddler, "Choke me else! But now, as to the sea, Martin pal--'tis a dog's life!"
"You know the sea, then?"
"Like my hand, Martin, and all along o' my father's godliness. A fine, big man he was and devout as he was lusty. Having begot me his next duty was to name me, and O pal, name me he did! A name as no raskell lad might live up to, a name as brought me into such troublous faction ashore that he packed me off to sea. And if you ax me what name 'twas, I'll answer ye bold and true--'God-be-here Jenkins,' at your service, though Godby for short and 'twixt friends."
Now the more I saw of this little peddler the better I liked him, so that the hour was late when, having supped excellently well, I rose to take my leave.
"If you must be away, young master," said the buxom Cicely, "don't 'ee forget there be ever a welcome for 'ee at the Hop-pole--eh, Roger?"
"There is so!" nodded the landlord. "Likewise a pipkin of ale and a bite and all gratus to a pal!"
"And look 'ee, Martin my cove," quoth the peddler, grasping my hand, "there be ever and always the good high-road leading on and away to better things, so happen ye should change your mind, seek me here 'twixt this and dawn, if to-morrow ye shall hear o' Godby at the Fox at Spelmonden. So luck go wi' ye, my bien cull."