When Charles the First was King by J.S. Fletcher

Upon a certain fine afternoon in the early spring of 1631, dinner being well over, and my father smoking his pipe in the chimney-corner, while my mother was busied elsewhere on some matter of domestic importance, I went out into the fold, and there came across Jacob Trusty, our cowherd, who was just then feeding twelve fat beasts intended for an approaching cattle-fair at Wakefield. And having nought to do I approached Jacob with a view of hearing him talk. Many an hour, indeed, had I spent with Jacob Trusty in and about the farmstead, listening to his stories of bygone days, of which he carried a various collection in his mind, side by side with much legendary lore concerning ghosts, fairies, and hobgoblins. My mother, to be sure, said that Jacob was never so content as when talking to me, which perhaps was a natural thing, seeing that he had nursed me on his knee almost as soon as I was born, and had always manifested a great interest in my doings. Nevertheless, to most other people Jacob Trusty was as cross-grained and surly as man well can be, and was hardly ever known to give a civil answer to any that made inquiry of him. He was even accustomed to give advice to my father, and to comment upon what things were done on the farm; and this, my father said, must be excused in Jacob, because he had been, man and boy, at Dale's Field for a matter of fifty-three years, and had fed the cattle in our fold under three Dales. A tall, powerfully fashioned man was Jacob Trusty, with a great stoop in his broad shoulders, and a somewhat large nose which stood out of his face between the roundest and reddest cheeks that ever man had. As for his attire, it was always the same: a long smock that reached below his knee, and a round cap which was secured to his head by a woollen scarf that came over his ears, and was tied beneath his chin. From underneath his smock peeped Jacob's gray stockings, terminating in large boots of undressed leather, the soles of which were of such prodigious thickness as to make me wonder. When Jacob's duties took him to market at Pontefract or Wakefield, he added no more to his accustomed garb than a scarlet neckcloth which he had once bought of a mercer in York. With this round his neck, and his thick ash cudgel in his hand, Jacob considered himself fit for the best company in the land.

Upon this particular afternoon, Jacob Trusty, when I drew near, was engaged in throwing a cartload of turnips into the shed wherein his twelve fat cattle were then chained. Seeing me approach, he left off his work, and leaned both hands on the head of his four-pronged fork, looking waggishly at me across the turnip-heap.