ABSTRACT
When I arrived at Duckenhurst, my first intention was to proceed immediately to the Parsonage and establish myself there, like a spider, ready to pounce upon whatever prey should come within reach; but Farmer Flindal’s history of the Rector and his wrongs determined me to keep aloof for some time from the scene of action, till I had obtained more intelligence. I, therefore, fixed my head-quarters at the inn, and employed my time in pumping every body I could engage in gossiping, from the barber to the blacksmith; and the better to loosen their tongues, I did not spare to treat them with an occasional pot of my landlord’s home-brewed.
