Shanty the Blacksmith | Page 3

replied Mr. Dymock, "but what has worth and
God-fearing to do with my plough. I have been trying in vain to make
him understand what I want done, and am come to the resolution of
going myself, taking off my coat, and working with him; I should make
a better blacksmith in a week, than he has in forty years."
Mrs. Margaret lifted up her hands and eyes, and then fetching a deep
sigh, "That I should have lived to hear that," she exclaimed; "the last
representative of the house of Dymock proposing to work at a
blacksmith's forge!"
"And why not? Mrs. Margaret," replied the nephew, "does a gentleman
lower himself when he works merely for recreation, and not for sordid
pelf; you have heard of Peter the Great?"
"Bless me, nephew," replied the spinster, bridling, "where do you think
my ears have been all my life, if I never heard of Peter the Great!"
"You know then, that he worked with his own hands at a blacksmith's
forge," returned the nephew.
"I know no such thing," said Mrs. Margaret, "and if the Romans say so,
I account it only another of their many lies; and I wonder they are not
ashamed to invent tales so derogotary to the honour of him they call
their head!"
"Pshaw!" said the laird; "I am not speaking of the Pope, but of the Czar
of all the Russias!"
"Well! well! Dymock;" returned Mrs. Margaret, "I only wish that I
could persuade you from committing this derogation. However, if you
must needs work with Shanty, let me beg you to put on one of your old
shirts; for the sparks will be sure to fly, and there will be no end of
darning the small burns."
"Be assured aunt," said Mr. Dymock, "that I shall do nothing by halves;
if I work with Shanty, I shall put on a leathern apron, and tuck up my
sleeves."

"All this does not suit my notions," replied Mrs. Margaret: but her
nephew had risen to leave her, and there was an end to the argument.
As Mr. Dymock had told his aunt; so he did: he went to Shanty's forge,
he dressed himself like the old master himself, and set fairly to work, to
learn the mysteries of the trade; mysteries which, however, as far as
Shanty knew them, were not very deep.
[Illustration: He went to Shantys Forge See Page 14]
There has not often been a more ill-arranged and unsettled mind than
that of Mr. Dymock; his delight was in anything new, and for a few
days he would pursue this novelty with such eagerness, that during the
time he seemed to forget every thing else. It was a delicate job, and yet
one requiring strength which was needed for the plough. Shanty had
told the laird at once, that it was beyond his own skill or strength,
seeing that he was old and feeble, "and as to your doing it, sir," he said,
"who cannot yet shape a horse-shoe! you must serve longer than a week,
before you get that much knowledge of the craft; there is no royal way
to learning, and even for the making of a horse-shoe a 'prenticeship
must be served, and I mistake me very much if you don't tire before
seven days service are over, let alone as many years."
But, Mr. Dymock had as yet served only two days, when one evening a
young man, a dark, athletic, bold-looking youth, entered the
blacksmith's shed. It was an evening in autumn, and the shed was far
from any house; Dymock's tower was the nearest, and the sun was
already so low that the old keep with its many mouldering walls, and
out-buildings, was seen from the shed, standing in high relief against
the golden sky. As the young man entered, looking boldly about him,
Shanty asked him what he wanted.
"I want a horse-shoe," he replied.
"A horse-shoe!" returned the blacksmith, "and where's your horse?"
"I has no other horse than Adam's mare," he replied; "I rides no other,
but I want a horse-shoe."

"You are a pretty fellow," returned Shanty "to want a horse-shoe, and
to have never a horse to wear him."
"Did you never hear of no other use for a horse-shoe, besides protecting
a horse's hoof?" replied the youth.
"I have," returned the blacksmith, "I have heard fools say, that neither
witch nor warlock can cross a threshold that has a horse-shoe nailed
over it. But mind I tell you, it must be a cast shoe."
"Well" said the young man, "suppose that I am plagued with one of
them witches; and suppose that I should have bethought me of the
horse-shoe, what would you think of me then? What may that be which
you