The Broad Highway

"And why--why did he do it?" I asked.

"Because 'e 'ad to, o' course--it's jest the loneliness.

They'll find me some day, danglin'--I never could abide 'blood

myself--danglin' to the thing as looks like a oak tree in

the daytime."

"What do you mean?" said I.

The Pedler sighed, shook his head, and shouldered his brooms.

"It's jest the loneliness!" said he, and, spitting over this

shoulder, trudged upon his way.