’Thenthoumayestevenstopa-bed，’theoldwomanmutteredsulkily。’AwouldneverhavelabouredhalfanhourtoawakeaPapisher。Buthearkenyouonething，youngman；Zummerzettthouart，bythybrogue；oratleastbythyunderstandingofit；noZummerzettmaidwilllookatthee，inspiteofthysizeandstature，unlessthoustrikestablowthisnight。’
　　’IlacknoZummerzettmaid，mistress：Ihaveafairerthanyourbrownthings；andforheralonewouldI
　　strikeablow。’
　　Atthistheoldwomangavemeup，asbeingbeyondcorrection：anditvexedmealittlethatmygreatfamehadnotreachedsofarasBridgwater，whenIthoughtthatitwenttoBristowe。ButthosepeopleinEastSomersetknownothingaboutwrestling。Devonistheheadquartersoftheart；andDevonisthecountyofmychieflove。Howbeit，myvanitywasmoved，bythissluruponit——forIhadtoldhermynamewasJohnRidd，whenIhadagallonofalewithher，ereeverIcameupstairs；andshehadnodded，insuchamanner，thatI
　　thoughtsheknewbothnameandfame——andherewasI，notonlyshaken，pinched，andwithmanyhairspulledout，inthemidstofmyfirstgoodsleepforaweek，butalsoabused，andtakenamiss，andwhichvexedmemostofallunknown。
　　Nowthereisnothinglikevanitytokeepamanawakeatnight，howeverhebeweary；andmostofall，whenhebelievesthatheisdoingsomethinggreat——thistime，ifneverdonebefore——yetotherpeoplewillnotsee，exceptwhattheymaylaughat；andsobefarabovehim，andsleepthemselvesthehappier。Thereforetheirsleeprobshisown；forallthingsplayso，inandoutwiththegodlyandungodlyevermovinginabalance，astheyhavedoneinmytime，almosteveryyearortwo，allthingshavesuchnicereplyofproducetothecallforit，andsuchaspreadacrosstheworld，givinghereandtakingthere，yetonthewholeprettyeven，thathaplysleepitselfhasbutacertainstock，andkeepsinhand，andsellstoflatteredwhichcanpay
　　thatwhichflattenedvanitycannotpay，andwillnotsuefor。
　　Bethatasitmay，Iwasbythistimewideawake，thoughmuchaggrievedatfeelingso，andthroughtheopenwindowheardthedistantrollofmusketry，andthebeatingofdrums，withaquickrub-a-dub，andthe’comeroundthecorner’oftrumpet-call。AndperhapsTomFaggusmightbethere，andshotatanymoment，andmydearAnnieleftapoorwidow，andmygodsonJackanorphan，withoutatoothtohelphim。
　　ThereforeIreviledmyselfforallmyheavylaziness；
　　andpartlythroughgoodhonestwill，andpartlythroughthestingsofpride，andyetalittleperhapsbyvirtueofayoungman’sloveofriot，upIarose，anddressedmyself，andwokeKickumswhowassnoring，andsetouttoseetheworstofit。Thesleepyhostlerscratchedhispoll，andcouldnottellmewhichwaytotake；whatoddstohimwhowasKing，orPope，solongashepaidhisway，andgotabitofbacononSunday？AndwouldI
　　pleasetorememberthatIhadrousedhimupatnight，andthequalityalwaysmadeapointofpayingfourtimesoverforaman’slossofhisbeauty-sleep。I
　　repliedthathislossofbeauty-sleepwasratherimprovingtoamanofsohighcomplexion；andthatI，beingnoneofthequality，mustpayhalf-qualityprices：andsoIgavehimdoublefee，asbecameagoodfarmer；andhewasgladtobequitofKickums；asIsawbytheturnofhiseye，whilegoingoutatthearchway。
　　Allthiswasdonebylanthornlight，althoughthemoonwashighandbold；andinthenorthernheaven，flagsandribbonsofajostlingpattern；suchasweoftenhaveinautumn，butinJulyveryrarely。OftheseMasterDrydenhasspokensomewhere，inhiscourtlymanner；butofhimIthinksolittle——becausebyfashionpreferredtoShakespeare——thatIcannotrememberthepassage；neitherisitacredittohim。
　　ThereforeIwasguidedmainlybythesoundofgunsandtrumpets，inridingoutofthenarrowways，andintotheopenmarshes。AndthusImighthavefoundmyroad，inspiteofallthespreadofwater，andtheglazeofmoonshine；butthat，asIfollowedsoundfarfromhedgeorcauseway，foglikeachestnut-treeinblossom，touchedwithmoonlightmetme。NowfogisathingthatIunderstand，andcandowithwellenough，whereIknowthecountry；buthereIhadneverbeenbefore。ItwasnothingtoourExmoorfogs；nottobecomparedwiththem；andallthetimeonecouldseethemoon；whichwecannotdoinourfogs；noreventhesun，foraweektogether。Yetthegleamofwateralwaysmakesthefogmoredifficult：likeacurtainonamirror；nonecantelltheboundaries。
　　Andherewehadbroad-waterpatches，inandout，inlaidonland，likemother-of-pearlinbrownShittimwood。
　　Toawildduck，bornandbredthere，itwouldalmostbeapuzzletofindherownnestamongstus；whatchancethenhadIandKickums，bothunusedtomarshandmere？
　　Eachtimewhenwethoughtthatwemustberight，nowatlast，bytrackorpassage，andapproachingtheconflict，withthesoundsofitwaxingnearer，suddenlyabreakofwaterwouldbelaidbeforeus，withthemoonlookingmildlyoverit，andthenorthernlightsbehindus，dancingdownthelinesoffog。
　　Itwasanawfulthing，IsayandtothisdayI
　　rememberit，tohearthesoundsofragingfight，andtheyellsofravingslayers，andthehowlsofpoormenstrickenhard，andshatteredfromwrathtowailing；
　　thensuddenlythedeadlowhush，asofasouldeparting，andspiritskneelingoverit。Throughthevapouroftheearth，andwhitebreathofthewater，andbeneaththepaleroundmoonbowingasthedriftwentby，allthisrushandpauseoffearpassedorlingeredonmypath。
　　Atlast，whenIalmostdespairedofescapingfromthistangleofspongybanks，andofhazycreeks，andreed-fringe，myhorseheardtheneighofafellow-horse，andwasonlytoogladtoanswerit；uponwhichtheother，havinglostitsrider，cameupandprickedhisearsatus，andgazedthroughthefogverysteadfastly。ThereforeIencouragedhimwithasoftandgenialwhistle，andKickumsdidhisbesttotempthimwithasnortofinquiry。However，nothingwouldsuitthatnag，excepttoenjoyhisnewfreedom；andhecaperedawaywithhistailsetonhigh，andthestirrup-ironsclashingunderhim。Therefore，ashemightknowtheway，andappearedtohavebeeninthebattle，wefollowedhimverycarefully；andheledustoalittlehamlet，calledasIfoundafterwardsWestZuyland，orZealand，sonamedperhapsfromitssituationamidthisinlandsea。
　　HeretheKing’stroopshadbeenquitelately，andtheirfireswerestillburning；butthementhemselveshadbeensummonedawaybythenightattackoftherebels。
　　HenceIprocuredformyguideayoungmanwhoknewthedistrictthoroughly，andwholedmebymanyintricatewaystotherearoftherebelarmy。Wecameuponabroadopenmoorstripedwithsullenwatercourses，shaggedwithsedge，andyellowiris，andinthedrierpartwithbilberries。Forbythistimeitwasfouro’clock，andthesummersun，risingwanly，showedusalltheghastlyscene。
　　WouldthatIhadneverbeenthere!Ofteninthelonelyhours，evennowithauntsme：would，farmore，thatthepiteousthinghadneverbeendoneinEngland!Flyingmen，flungbackfromdreamsofvictoryandhonour，onlygladtohavetheluckoflifeandlimbstoflywith，mud-bedraggled，foulwithslime，reekingbothwithsweatandblood，whichtheycouldnotstoptowipe，cursing，withtheirpumped-outlungs，everystickthathinderedthem，orgorypuddlethatslippedthestep，scarcelyabletoleapoverthecorsesthathaddraggedtodie。Andtoseehowthecorseslay；some，asfairasdeathinsleep；withthesmileofplacidvalour，andofnoblemanhood，hoveringyetonthesilentlips。
　　Thesehadbloodlesshandsputupwards，whiteaswax，andfirmasdeath，claspedasonamonumentinprayerfordearonesleftbehind，orinhighthanksgiving。
　　Andofthesementherewasnothingintheirbroadblueeyestofear。Butotherswereofdifferentsort；
　　simplefellowsunusedtopain，accustomedtothebill-hook，perhaps，orraspoftheknucklesinaquick-sethedge，ormakingsometo-doatbreakfast，overathumbcutinsharpeningascythe，andexpectingtheirwivestomakemoreto-do。Yetherelaythesepoorchaps，dead；dead，afteradealofpain，withlittlemindtobearit，andasoultheyhadneverthoughtof；gone，theirGodaloneknowswhither；buttomercywemaytrust。UponthesethingsIcannotdwell；
　　andnoneItrowwouldaskme：onlyifaplainmansawwhatIsawthatmorning，heifGodhadblessedhimwiththeheartthatisinmostofusmusthavesickenedofalldesiretobegreatamongmankind。
　　SeeingmeridingtothefrontwheretheworkofdeathwentonamongthemenoftrueEnglishpluck；which，whenmoved，nofarthermoves，thefugitivescalledouttome，inhalfadozendialects，tomakenoutterfoolofmyself；forthegreatgunswerecome，andthefightwasover；alltherestwasslaughter。
　　’ArloopwiMoonmo’，’shoutedonebigfellow，amineroftheMendiphills，whoseweaponwasapickaxe：’naoosetovaightnamoor。Wendtheehame，yoongmonagin。’
　　UponthisIstoppedmyhorse，desiringnottobeshotfornothing；andeagertoaidsomepoorsickpeople，whotriedtolifttheirarmstome。AndthisIdidtothebestofmypower，thoughvoidofskillinthebusiness；andmoreinclinedtoweepwiththemthantochecktheirweeping。WhileIwasgivingadropofcordialfrommyflasktoonepoorfellow，whosatup，whilehislifewasebbing，andwithslowinsistenceurgedme，whenhisbrokenvoicewouldcome，totellhiswifewhosenameIknewnotsomethingaboutanapple-tree，andagoldenguineastoredinit，todivideamongsixchildren——inthemidstofthisIfeltwarmlipslaidagainstmycheekquitesoftly，andthenalittlepush；andbeholditwasahorseleaningoverme!
　　Iaroseinhaste，andtherestoodWinnie，lookingatmewithbeseechingeyes，enoughtomeltaheartofstone。
　　Thenseeingmyattentionfixedsheturnedherhead，andglancedbacksadlytowardtheplaceofbattle，andgavealittlewistfulneigh：andthenlookedmefullinthefaceagain，asmuchastosay，’Doyouunderstand？’
　　whileshescrapedwithonehoofimpatiently。Ifeverahorsetriedhardtospeak，itwasWinnieatthatmoment。Iwenttohersideandpattedher；butthatwasnotwhatshewanted。ThenIofferedtoleapintotheemptysaddle；butneitherdidthatseemgoodtoher：forsheranawaytowardthepartofthefieldatwhichshehadbeenglancingback，andthenturnedround，andshookhermane，entreatingmetofollowher。
　　UponthisIlearnedfromthedyingmanwheretofindhisapple-tree，andpromisedtoaddanotherguineatotheoneinstoreforhischildren；andso，commendinghimtoGod，Imountedmyownhorseagain，andtoWinnie’sgreatdelight，professedmyselfatherservice。Withherringingsilveryneigh，suchasnootherhorseofallIeverknewcouldequal，sheatonceproclaimedhertriumph，andtoldhermasterormeanttotell，ifdeathshouldnothaveclosedhisearsthatshewascomingtohisaid，andbringingonewhomightbetrusted，ofthehigherracethatkill。
　　Acannon-bulletfiredlow，andploughingthemarshslowlymetpoorWinniefronttofront；andshe，beingasquickasthought，loweredhernosetosniffatit。
　　Itmightbeamessagefromhermaster；foritmadeamournfulnoise。ButluckilyforWinnie’slife，ariseofwetgroundtooktheball，evenunderherverynose；
　　andthereitcutasplashygroove，missingheroffhindfootbyaninch，andscatteringblackmudoverher。
　　ItfrightenedmemuchmorethanWinnie；ofthatIamquitecertain：becausethoughIamfirmenough，whenitcomestoarealtussle，andtheheartofafellowwarmsupandtellshimthathemustgothroughwithit；yetI
　　neverdidapproveofmakingacoldpieofdeath。
　　Therefore，withthoserecklesscannons，brazen-mouthed，andbellowing，twofurlongsoff，oritmightbemoreandthemorethemerrier，Iwouldhavegiventhatyear’shay-cropforabitofahill，orathicketofoaks，oralmostevenabadger’searth。PeoplewillcallmeacowardforthisespeciallywhenIhadmadeupmymind，thatlifewasnotworthhavingwithoutanysignofLorna；nevertheless，Icannothelpit：thoseweremyfeelings；andIsetthemdown，becausetheymadeamarkonme。AtGlenDooneIhadfought，evenagainstcannon，withsomespiritandfury：butnowI
　　sawnothingtofightabout；butratherineverypoordoubledcorpse，agoodreasonfornotfighting。So，incoldbloodridingon，andyetashamedthatamanshouldshrinkwhereahorsewentbravely，IcastabitterblameupontherecklesswaysofWinnie。