_The Man of Gotham and his Cheeses._
One hot summer's day a man of Gotham was on his way to Nottingham
market to sell his cheeses, which he carried in a bag slung across
his shoulder. He found the heat oppressive, and his load so
troublesome, that he could not help bewailing his lot in the following
words--"Unfortunate man that I am, why have I not a cart like neighbour
Dobbins, or even a barrow like old Mathews? My good woman will make so
many cheeses that I have no rest any market day. But now I have it; she
is a shrewd woman, and I will propose to her to make the cheeses so
that they can walk to market, and then I need only walk by the side of
them, to see that they do not loiter or play by the way. I wonder she
never thought of that."
This bright idea consoled him and made him forget even his load for a
time, but it weighed so heavily upon him that he was soon recalled to
his misfortunes, and as he trudged along he constantly changed the bag
from one shoulder to the other. Now with these frequent changes the
mouth of the bag had got loose, and just as he reached the top of the
hill, looking down upon the bridge and Nottingham in the distance, one
of the cheeses fell out and rolled down the hill.
He watched it for a time, and as it kept so well to the road, neither
turning to one side nor the other, but jumping over the stones that lay
in its way, he exclaimed in delight, "Well done, well done, keep on
like that, my good friend, and you'll soon be at your journey's end!
It was foolish of my old woman not to tell me that they could run by
themselves, but now that I have found it out, I'm not going to carry
the lazy things a step farther."
Having come to this wise resolution he bundled the cheeses out of the
bag, and, as they rolled down the hill, cried after them, "There,
follow your companion; but you need not run so fast, for I shall
rest myself a bit and then walk leisurely after you. Now, mind you
all meet me in the market-place." He watched them with the greatest
satisfaction as they ran down the hill and over the bridge, when, the
road turning suddenly, they were lost to his sight; and then, too, they
all left the road, some running into one bush and some into another,
whilst the rest got no further than the ditch by the roadside.
[Illustration: _The Gothamite and his Cheeses._]
After a short rest the worthy man went on his way to Nottingham,
without troubling his mind about the cheeses, as he fully expected to
find them waiting for him in the market-place; but when he got there
he was somewhat astonished to find that they had not yet arrived. "No
doubt," he said to himself, "as soon as they were out of my sight they
got to some of their games in some field or another. That is always
the way, but they'll be here soon." When, however, the market time
was nearly over, and the cheeses had not appeared, he inquired of the
market people whether they had seen them. No one had seen his cheeses,
and when he was asked who brought them he said,--
"No one brought them. Sure they were quite able to come by themselves,
as you would say if you had seen them running along the road; but now
I think of it, they were going at such a rate that they are no doubt
half way on their road to York by now." So he hired a horse and rode
off towards York to try and overtake them, but strange to say he did
not overtake them, nor indeed did he ever see them again, nor hear any
tidings of them.
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