And on the morrow I saw the last of poor Bumpkin that I shall ever see. In the beautiful sunshine of that October morning, just by the old oak, he was leaning over the gate looking his last at the dear old fields and the old farm-house where so many happy years had been spent. By his side was his wife, with her hand shading her eyes; the old dog was between them, looking into the face now of Tom and then of his wife. Mr. Bumpkin’s arms were resting on the gate, and his old ash stick that he used to walk with over the fields was in his hand. They stood there for a long, long time as though they could never leave it. And I saw the tears trickle down the old man’s face as Mrs. Bumpkin, letting fall the corner of her apron, which she had held to her eyes, and placing her arm through his, said in a faltering voice:—
Tom Bumpkin was a thriving man, As all the world could see; In forty years he’d raised himself From direst poverty.
And now he rented from the Squir Some acres, near a score; Some people said ’twas twenty-five, And some that it was more.
He had a sow of rare brave breed, And nine good pigs had he; A cow and calf, a rick of hay, And horses he had three.
And Mrs. Bumpkin had a bull, The finest creature out; “And, like a Christian,” so she said, “It follered her about.”
So Bumpkin was a thriving man, As all the world could see; A self-made man, but yet not made Of scholarship was he.
With neighbour Snooks he dealings had About his latest farrow; Snooks said he’d bought a pig, and so, To prove it, brought his barrow.
Tom said, “It wur to be two crowns;” Snooks said, “Twur nine-and-six;” Then Tom observed, “You doan’t ’ave me Wi none o’ them there tricks.”
So there was battle; Lawyer Prigg Was told this tale of woe; The Lawyer rubbed his bony hands And said, “I see; quite so!”
“A case of trespass,”—“Ay zo ’t be!” Said Bumpkin, feeling big; “Now mak un pay vor’t, mak un pay; It beant so much th’ pig.”
“No, no, it’s not so much the pig, That were a matter small; Indeed, good Bumpkin, we may say It’s not the pig at all!
“It’s more the _principle_ involved, The rights of man, you see”— “Ay, ay,” quoth Tom; “the devil’s in’t ’F I beant as good as he.”
There never was a man more prompt Or swift to strike a blow: Give but the word, and Charger Prigg Was down upon the foe.