life-guardsman, but he ain't no more education nor ideers than the ox he
feeds on.

MARY.--Law, John, whatever do you mean?

JOHN.--Hm! you know not, little one! you never can know. Have YOU ever
felt the pangs of imprisoned genius? have YOU ever felt what 'tis to be
a slave?

MARY.--Not in a free country, I should hope, John Howell--no such a
thing. A place is a place, and I know mine, and am content with the
spear of life in which it pleases heaven to place me, John: and I wish
you were, and remembered what we learned from our parson when we went
to school together in dear old Pigeoncot, John--when you used to help
little Mary with her lessons, John, and fought Bob Brown, the big
butcher's boy, because he was rude to me, John, and he gave you that
black hi.

JOHN.--Say eye, Mary, not heye [gently].

MARY.--Eye; and I thought you never looked better in all your life
than you did then: and we both took service at Squire Milliken's--me as
dairy-girl, and you as knife-boy; and good masters have they been to
us from our youth hup: both old Squire Milliken and Mr. Charles as is
master now, and poor Mrs. as is dead, though she had her tantrums--and I
thought we should save up and take the "Milliken Arms"--and now we have
saved up--and now, now, now--oh, you are a stone, a stone, a stone!
and I wish you were hung round my neck, and I were put down the well!
There's the hup-stairs bell. [She starts, changing her manner as she
hears the bell, and exit.]