The other tinners were shy of venturing so far, so that two or three only could be persuaded to leave the West Country. With Tom and with his brethren the year passed by, and at the end he got no money, but only the same piece of advice, “Never leave an old road for a new one.” This went on for a third year, when all of them, being naturally tired of this sort of thing, resolved to go home again.
Tom Trezidder was a favourite with his master, and was greatly esteemed for his honesty and industry by his mistress.
When they left she gave Tom a good currant cake to take home to his old woman, and told him to remember the advice, “Never leave an old road for a new one.”
The tinners trudged on together until they were on the western side of Penzance. They were weary, and they found that since they had left home a new road had been made over the hills, which saved them a considerable distance—in fact it was a “short cut.” On they went. “No,” says Tom; “never leave an old road for a new one.” They all laughed at him, and trudged on. But Tom kept in the old road along the valley round the hill. When Tom reached the other end of the “short cut” he thought he would rest a bit, and he sat down by the roadside and ate his _fuggan_. This his mistress had given him, that he might not break his cake until he got home.
He had not sat long when he heard a noise, and, looking up the hill, he saw his comrades, whom he thought were miles in advance of him, slowly and sorrowfully descending it. They came at last to where Tom was seated, and a sad tale had they to tell. They had scarcely got into the new road when they were set upon by robbers, who took from them “all their little bit of money,” and then beat them because they had no more.
Tom, you may be sure, thought the piece of advice worth something now, as it had saved his bacon.
Tom arrived home at last, and glad was the old woman to see her old man once again; so she made him some “herby tea” at once. He shewed his wife the cake, and told her that all he had received for his share of profits was the piece of advice already given.
The ladies who read this story will understand how vexed was Tom’s wife,—there are but few of them who would not have done as she did, that was to seize the cake from the table and fling it at her husband’s head, calling him an old fool. Tom Trezidder stooped to avoid the blow. Slap against the corner of the dresser went the cake, breaking in pieces with the blow, and out on the lime-ash floor rolled a lot of gold coins.