There is a certain folk-tale, too well-known to bear repetition, of the countryman lost in the woods, who cried out “Man lost!” and was answered by the wood-pigeons. In this neighbourhood, the local hero of whom that adventure is related went by the name of Squidger Brown, and is still remembered by the older generation.

To-day (it is April) a dove's cooing suggested to me that Bettesworth's version of the venerable story might be interesting.

Being reminded of it, however, the old man only chuckled. He passed at once from Squidger to tell me how “the same thing 'appened a year or two back” to one Biggs (nephew of my idle old neighbour, a young man, half - witted and commonly known as Shiner) who, according to Bettesworth's story, varied the usual response to the pigeons by swearing at them for not knowing him.

But, Squidger Brown being again mentioned, Bettesworth remarked, “'Twas he as was 'long of old Joey Ward what used to live over 'ere where Warners be, when he come 'ome from Weyhill fair supposin' he'd got twenty sovereigns an' 't turned out to be twenty fardins.”

Upon my asking, “How was that?” he continued, “Oh, ther' was two gentleman-lookin' chaps met 'n in the fair, an' one of 'em says, ‘Look, here's a 'ard-workin', industrious-lookin' man. If you can show me as much money of your own earnin', my man,' he says, ‘I'll give ye a fi'-pun' note.’