The Pedlar of Swaffham


In the old days when London Bridge was lined with shops from one end to
the other, and salmon swam under the arches, there lived at Swaffham, in
Norfolk, a poor pedlar. He'd much ado to make his living, trudging about
with his pack at his back and his dog at his heels, and at the close of
the day's labour was but too glad to sit down and sleep. Now it fell out
that one night he dreamed a dream, and therein he saw the great bridge
of London town, and it sounded in his ears that if he went there he
should hear joyful news. He made little count of the dream, but on the
following night it come back to him, and again on the third night.

Then he said within himself, "I must needs try the issue of it," and so
he trudged up to London town. Long was the way and right glad was he
when he stood on the great bridge and saw the tall houses on right hand
and left, and had glimpses of the water running and the ships sailing
by. All day long he paced to and fro, but he heard nothing that might
yield him comfort. And again on the morrow he stood and he gazed--he
paced afresh the length of London Bridge, but naught did he see and
naught did he hear.

Now the third day being come as he still stood and gazed, a shopkeeper
hard by spoke to him.

"Friend," said he, "I wonder much at your fruitless standing. Have you
no wares to sell?"