Ruttendell, XII

Now when Sir Humphrey heard this welcome news He said, for joy, “God bless my buckle-shoes,” And to his wife—“I think, dear Lady B——, Betwixt your loyal ladyship and me, There is no time to lose—so I’ll go down And have an interview with Champernown:” He went: and soon a numerous gathering Propounded measures for a welcoming; Which (came to pass with almost regal state) Greeted the noble Lord of Rollingate:— The streets were spann’d with flags of every shade, Bearing the mottoes of each goodly trade; From door to door were planted shrubs and flowers, Transforming houses into Sylvan bowers Six furlongs distant ’rose t’endear the eye, Two triple arches, each one bore on high A crimson banner ring’d with bullion gold; Whose meet inscriptions adequately told (In silvery letters, more than tongue can tell) Th’ excessive joy which reign’d at Ruttendell.

A quaint expression which Sir H. B. had acquired when any new sentiment of pleasure inspired his heart.

Mr. Frederick Champernown, stationer and news-agent.

At each end of the town.