"To shoe my horse, good dame," answered Tressiliany; "you may see that he

has thrown a fore-foot shoe."

"Master Holiday!" exclaimed the dame, without returning any direct

answer--"Master Herasmus Holiday, come and speak to mon, and please

you."

"FAVETE LINGUIS," answered a voice from within; "I cannot now come

forth, Gammer Sludge, being in the very sweetest bit of my morning

studies."

"Nay, but, good now, Master Holiday, come ye out, do ye. Here's a mon

would to Wayland Smith, and I care not to show him way to devil; his

horse hath cast shoe."

"QUID MIHI CUM CABALLO?" replied the man of learning from within; "I

think there is but one wise man in the hundred, and they cannot shoe a

horse without him!"

And forth came the honest pedagogue, for such his dress bespoke him. A

long, lean, shambling, stooping figure was surmounted by a head thatched

with lank, black hair somewhat inclining to grey. His features had the

cast of habitual authority, which I suppose Dionysius carried with him

from the throne to the schoolmaster's pulpit, and bequeathed as a legacy

to all of the same profession, A black buckram cassock was gathered at

his middle with a belt, at which hung, instead of knife or weapon, a

goodly leathern pen-and-ink case. His ferula was stuck on the other

side, like Harlequin's wooden sword; and he carried in his hand the

tattered volume which he had been busily perusing.

On seeing a person of Tressilian's appearance, which he was better

able to estimate than the country folks had been, the schoolmaster

unbonneted, and accosted him with, "SALVE, DOMINE. INTELLIGISNE LINGUAM

LATINAM?"

Tressilian mustered his learning to reply, "LINGUAE LATINAE HAUD PENITUS

IGNARUS, VENIA TUA, DOMINE ERUDITISSIME, VERNACULAM LIBENTIUS LOQUOR."

The Latin reply had upon the schoolmaster the effect which the mason's

sign is said to produce on the brethren of the trowel. He was at once

interested in the learned traveller, listened with gravity to his story

of a tired horse and a lost shoe, and then replied with solemnity, "It

may appear a simple thing, most worshipful, to reply to you that there

dwells, within a brief mile of these TUGURIA, the best FABER FERARIUS,

the most accomplished blacksmith, that ever nailed iron upon horse. Now,

were I to say so, I warrant me you would think yourself COMPOS VOTI, or,

as the vulgar have it, a made man."

"I should at least," said Tressilian, "have a direct answer to a plain

question, which seems difficult to be obtained in this country."




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