Sure the minstrel’s hand is free
And the strain may changed be,
While the chords unbroken still
Wake to music at his will!
Has thy babbling tongue revealed
Secrets thou shouldst have concealed,—
Erring minstrel, let this be
A lasting lesson unto thee,
And henceforth more discreet and wise,
Veil thy love’s charms from vulgar eyes.”
“Indeed!” exclaimed one of the peasants. “If that is not meant for us, nothing in the world is! ‘Vulgar eyes!’ Well, well, I see through your learning, master student, and warn you once for all to let us alone with your quizzing.”
“Never mind, man!” shouted another of the group. “I say, never mind. If he knows Greek, surely we are no blockheads!”
This observation kept down the rising wrath of the rest, and the assurances and protestations of the student that he meant nothing personal to such honourable gentlemen, completely mollified their resentment, and it was resolved to carry on the jest.
“A man of high rank,” began one of the company, “becoming dissatisfied with one of his acquaintances, resolved to send him a very insulting and threatening letter. But somehow or other—nobody can tell how—Number Nip took hold of the pen with which he was writing, and so guided it, that he wrote just the very contrary of what he meant to express. Thus, for example, instead of writing, ‘Thou art a perjured rascal, unworthy to loose the shoe-ties of an honourable man like me,’ he actually wrote, ‘I am a perjured rascal, unworthy to loose the shoe-ties of an honourable man like thee.’ Consequently instead of a letter of insult and provocation, as was meant, the nobleman’s enemy received a pitiful and humble confession from him,
