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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..a4f0b52 --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #69640 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/69640) diff --git a/old/69640-0.txt b/old/69640-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 703e47b..0000000 --- a/old/69640-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6009 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of Woodburn Grange, vol. 1 of 3, by -William Howitt - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: Woodburn Grange, vol. 1 of 3 - A story of English country life - -Author: William Howitt - -Release Date: December 26, 2022 [eBook #69640] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Bob Taylor and the Online Distributed - Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was - produced from images generously made available by The - Internet Archive) - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 1 OF -3 *** - - - - - - Transcriber’s Note - Italic text displayed as: _italic_ - - - - - WOODBURN GRANGE. - - - - - WOODBURN GRANGE. - - A Story of English Country Life. - - BY - - WILLIAM HOWITT. - - IN THREE VOLUMES. - - VOL. I. - - LONDON: - CHARLES W. WOOD, 13, TAVISTOCK ST., STRAND. - 1867. - - [_Right of Translation reserved._] - - - - - LONDON: - BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. - - - - - CONTENTS. - - - CHAP. PAGE - - I.—THE LAST OF A LONG LINE 1 - - II.—THE FIRST OF A NEW LINE 42 - - III.—THINGS AS THEY USED TO BE 78 - - IV.—THE WOODBURNS AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS 95 - - V.—BETTY TRAPPS COMES TO NOTICE 130 - - VI.—THORSBY AMONGST THE WOODBURNS 156 - - VII.—THE HAY-FIELD FÊTE 187 - - VIII.—A NICE SAMPLE OF FARMERS 229 - - IX.—THE FRIENDS’ PARTY 263 - - X.—THE PIC-NIC ON THE ISLAND 306 - - - - - WOODBURN GRANGE. - - - - - CHAPTER I. - - THE LAST OF A LONG LINE. - - -Sir Roger Rockville, of Rockville, was the last of a very long line. -It extended from the Norman Conquest to the present century. His -first known ancestor came over with William, and must have been a man -of some mark, either of bone and sinew, or of brain, for he obtained -what the Americans would call a prime location. As his name does not -occur in the roll of Battle Abbey, he was, of course, not of a high -Norman extraction; but he had done enough, it seems, in the way of -knocking down Saxons, to place himself on a considerable eminence in -this kingdom. The centre of his domains was conspicuous far over the -country, through a high range of rock overhanging one of the sweetest -rivers in the kingdom. On one hand lay a vast tract of rich marsh -land, capable, as society advanced, of being converted into meadows; -and on the other, as extensive moorlands, finely undulating, and -abounding with woods and deer. - -Here the original Sir Roger built his castle on the summit of -the range of rock, with huts for his followers; and became known -directly all over the country as Sir Roger de Rockville, or Sir -Roger of the hamlet on the Rock. Sir Roger, no doubt, was a mighty -hunter before the lord of the feudal district; it is certain that -his descendants were. For generations they led a jolly life at -Rockville, and were always ready to exchange the excitement of the -chase for a bit of civil war. Without that the country would have -grown dull, and ale and venison lost their flavour. There was no gay -London in those days, and a good brisk skirmish with their neighbours -in helm and hauberk was the way of spending their season. It was -their parliamentary debate, and was necessary to thin their woods. -Protection and free trade were as much the great topics of interest -as they are now, only they did not trouble themselves so much about -corn bills. Their bills were of good steel, and their protective -measures were arrows a cloth-yard long. Protection meant a good suit -of mail, and a castle with its duly prescribed moats, bastions, -portcullises, and donjon keep. Free trade was a lively inroad into -the neighbouring baron’s lands, and the importation thence of -goodly herds and flocks. Foreign cattle for home consumption was as -_striking an article_ in their market as ours, only the blows were -expended on one another’s heads, instead of the heads of foreign -bullocks—that is, bullocks from over the Welsh or Scotch marches, or -from beyond the next brook. - -Thus lived the Rockvilles for ages. In all the iron combats of those -iron times they took care to have their quota. Whether it was Stephen -against Matilda, or Richard against his father, or John against the -barons; whether it were York or Lancaster, Tudor or Stuart, the -Rockvilles were to be found in the _mêlée_, and winning power and -lands. So long as it required only stalwart frames and stout blows, -no family cut a more conspicuous figure. The Rockvilles were at -Bosworth Field. The Rockvilles fought in Ireland under Elizabeth. -The Rockvilles were staunch defenders of the crown in the wars of -Charles I. with his parliament. The Rockvilles even fought for James -II. at the Boyne, when three-fourths of the most loyal of the English -nobility and gentry had deserted him in disgust and indignation. But -from that hour they had been less conspicuous. - -The opposition to the successful party, that of William of Orange, -of course brought them into disgrace; and though they were never -molested on that account, they retired to their estate, and found it -convenient to be as unobtrusive as possible. Thenceforward you heard -no more of the Rockvilles in the national annals. They became only of -consequence in their own district. They acted as magistrates; they -served as high-sheriffs; they were a substantial county family, and -nothing more. Education and civilisation advanced; a wider and very -different field of action and ambition opened upon the aristocracy of -England. Our fleets and armies abroad; our legislature at home; law -and the church, presented brilliant paths to the ambition of those -thirsting for distinction, and the good things that follow it. But -somehow the Rockvilles did not expand with this expansion. So long -as it required only a figure of six feet high, broad shoulders and a -strong arm, they were a great and conspicuous race; but when the head -became the member most in request, they ceased to go a-head. Younger -sons, it is true, served in army and navy, and filled the family -pulpit, but they produced no generals, no admirals, no archbishops. -The Rockvilles of Rockville were very conservative, very exclusive, -and very stereotype. Other families grew poor, and enriched -themselves again by marrying plebeian heiresses. New families grew -up out of plebeian blood into greatness, and intermingled the vigour -of their first earth with the attenuated aristocratic soil. Men of -family became great lawyers, great statesmen, great prelates, and -even great poets and philosophers. The Rockvilles remained high, -proud, bigoted, and _bornés_. - -The Rockvilles married Rockvilles, or their first cousins the -Cliffvilles, simply to prevent property going out of the family. They -kept the property together; they did not lose an acre; and they were -a fine, tall, solemn race,—and nothing more. What ailed them? - -If you saw Sir Roger Rockville—for there was an eternal Sir Roger -filling his office of high-sheriff, he had a very fine carriage, and -a very fine retinue in the most approved and splendid of costumes;—if -you saw him sitting on the bench at quarter-sessions, he was a tall, -stately, and solemn man. If you saw Lady Rockville shopping in her -handsome carriage, with very handsomely attired servants, saw her at -the county ball, or on the race-stand, she was a tall, aristocratic, -and stately lady. That was in the last generation—the present could -boast no Lady Rockville. - -Great outward respect was shown to the Rockvilles on account of the -length of their descent, and the breadth of their acres. They were -always, when any stranger asked about them, declared, with a serious -and important air, to be a very ancient, honourable, and substantial -family. “Oh! a great family are the Rockvilles—a very great family.” - -But if you came to close quarters with the members of this great and -highly distinguished family, you soon found yourself fundamentally -astonished. You had a sensation come over you, as if you were trying, -like Moses, to draw water from a rock, without his delegated power. -There was a goodly outside of things before you, but nothing came of -it. You talked, hoping to get talking in return; but you got little -more than “noes,” and “yeses,” and “oh, indeeds!” and “reallys,” -and sometimes not even that, but a certain look of dignity, or -dignification, that was meant to serve for all purposes. There was a -sort of resting on aristocratic oars or “sculls,” that were not to -be too vulgarly handled. There was a feeling impressed on you, that -eight hundred years of descent and ten thousand a year in landed -income, did not trouble themselves with the trifling things that gave -distinction to lesser people—such as literature, fine arts, politics, -and general knowledge. These were very well for those who had nothing -else to pride themselves on, but for the Rockvilles—oh, certainly -they were by no means requisite! - -In fact, you found yourselves, with a little variation, in the -predicament of Cowper’s people— - - “who spent their lives - In dropping buckets into empty wells, - And _growing tired_ of drawing nothing up.” - -Who has not often come across these dry wells of society?—solemn -gulfs out of which you can pump nothing up? You know them—they are at -your elbow every day in large and brilliant companies, and defy the -best sucking-buckets ever invented to extract anything from them. -But the Rockvilles were each and all of this actual description. It -was a family feature, and they seemed, if either, rather proud of it. -They must be so; for proud they were, amazingly proud, and they had -nothing else to be proud of, except their acres and their ancestors. - -But the fact was, they could not help it, it was become organic. -They had acted the justice of peace, and maintained the constitution -against upstarts and manufacturers, signed warrants, supported the -Church, and the house of correction, committed poachers, and then -rested on the dignity of their ancestors for so many generations, -that their sculls, brains, constitutions, and nervous systems were -all so completely moulded into that shape, and baked in that mould, -that a Rockville would be a Rockville to the end of time, if God -and Nature would have allowed it. But such things wear out. The -American Indians and the Australian natives wear out. They are not -progressive: and as Nature abhors a vacuum, she does not forget the -vacuum, wherever it may be, whether in a hot desert or in a cold and -stately Rockville,—a very ancient, honourable, and substantial family -that lies fallow till the thinking faculty literally dies out. - -For several generations there had been symptoms of decay about the -Rockville family. Not in its property; that was as large as ever. -Not in their personal stature and physical aspect. The Rockvilles -continued, as they always had been, a tall and not bad-looking -family. But they grew gradually less prolific. For a hundred and -fifty years past, there had seldom been more than two, or at most, -three children. There had generally been an heir to the estate, and -another to the family pulpit, and sometimes a daughter, married -to some neighbouring squire. But Sir Roger’s father had been an -only child, and Sir Roger himself was an only child. The danger of -extinction to the family, apparent as it was, had never induced Sir -Roger to marry. At the time that we are turning our attention upon -him, he had reached the mature age of sixty. Nobody believed that Sir -Roger now would marry; he was the last, and likely to be, of his line. - -It is worth while here to take a glance at Sir Roger and his estate. -They exhibited a strange contrast. The one bore all the signs of -progress, the other of a stereotyped feudality. The estate, which in -the days of the first Sir Roger de Rockville had been half morass and -three-quarters wilderness, was now cultivated to the pitch of British -agricultural science. The marsh lands beyond the river were one -splendid expanse of richest meadows, yielding a rental of four solid -pounds per acre. Over hill and dale on this side for miles, where -formerly ran wild deer, and grew wild woodlands or furze-bushes, -now lay excellent farms and hamlets, and along the ridge of the -ancient cliffs rose the most magnificent woods. Woods, too, clothed -the steep hill-sides, and swept down to the noble river, their very -boughs hanging far out over its clear and rapid waters. In the midst -of these fine woods stood Rockville Hall, the family seat of the -Rockvilles. It reared its old brick walls over the towering mass of -elms, and travellers at a distance recognised it for what it was—the -mansion of an ancient and wealthy family. - -The progress of England in arts, science, commerce, and manufactures, -had carried Sir Roger’s estate along with it. It was full of active -and moneyed farmers, and flourished under modern influences. How -lucky it would have been for the Rockville family had it done the -same! - -But amid this estate, there was Sir Roger, solitary, and the last of -the line. He had grown well enough—there was nothing stunted about -him, as far as you could see on the surface. In stature he exceeded -six feet. His colossal elms could not boast of a more proper relative -growth. He was as large a landlord and as tall a justice of the peace -as you could desire; but, unfortunately, after all, he was only the -shell of a man. Like many of his veteran elms, there was a very -fine stem, only it was hollow. There was a man just with the rather -awkward deficiency of a soul. - -And it was no difficult task to explain, either, how this had come -about. The Rockvilles saw plainly enough the necessity of manuring -their lands, but they scorned the very idea of manuring their family. -What! that most ancient, honourable, and substantial family suffer -any of the common earth of humanity to gather about its roots! The -Rockvilles were so careful of their good blood that they never -allied it to any but blood as pure and inane as their own. Their -elms flourished in the rotten earth of plebeian accumulations, -and their acres produced large crops of corn from the sewage of -towns and fat sinks, but the Rockvilles themselves took especial -care that no vulgar vigour from the real heap of ordinary human -nature should infuse a new force of intellect into their race. The -Rockvilles needed nothing: they had all that an ancient, honourable, -and substantial family could need. The Rockvilles had no necessity -to study at school—why should they? They did not want to get on. The -Rockvilles did not aspire to distinction for talent in the world—why -should they? They had a large estate, and a large estate implies -large honour and respect, though the owners of it be simply cyphers. -So the Rockville soul—unused from generation to generation—grew - - “Fine by degrees and beautifully less,” - -till it tapered off into nothing. - -Look at the last of a long line in the midst of his fine estate. Tall -he was, with a stoop in his shoulders, and a bowing of his head on -one side, as if he had been accustomed to stand under the low boughs -of his woods, and peer after intruders. And that was precisely the -fact. His features were thin and sharp; his nose prominent and keen -in its character; his eyes small, black, and peering like a mole’s, -or a hungry swine’s. Sir Roger was still oracular on the bench, after -consulting his clerk, who was a good lawyer, and looked up to by the -neighbouring squires in election matters, for he was an unswerving -tory. You never heard of a rational thing that he had said in the -whole course of his life; but that mattered little—he was a gentleman -of solemn aspect, of stately gait, and of very ancient family. - -With ten thousand a year, and his rental rising, he was still, -however, a man of overwhelming cares. What mattered a fine estate -if all the world was against him? And Sir Roger firmly believed -that he stood in that predicament. He had grown up to regard the -world as full of little beside upstarts, radicals, manufacturers, -and poachers. All were banded, in his belief, against the landed -interest. It demanded all the energy of his very small faculties to -defend himself and the landed aristocracy against them. - -Unfortunately for his peace, a large manufacturing town had sprung up -within a couple of miles of him. He could see its red-brick walls, -and its red-tiled roofs, and its tall, smoke-vomiting chimneys, -growing and extending over the slopes beyond the river. It was to -him the most irritating sight in the world; for what were all those -swarming weavers and spinners but arrant radicals, upstarts, sworn -foes of the ancient institutions and the landed interests of England? -Sir Roger had passed through many a desperate conflict with them -for the return of members to parliament. They brought forward men -that were utter wormwood to all his feelings, and they paid no more -respect to him and his friends on such occasions than they did to -the meanest creature living. Reverence for ancient blood did not -exist in that plebeian and rapidly multiplying tribe. There were -master manufacturers there actually that looked and talked as big as -himself, and, _entre nous_, talked a vast deal more cleverly. The -people talked of rights and franchises, and freedom of speech and of -conscience, in a way that was really frightful. - -Then they were given most inveterately to running out in whole and -everlasting crowds on Sundays and holidays into the fields and woods; -and as there was no part of the neighbourhood half so pleasant as the -groves and river-banks of Rockville, they came swarming up there in -crowds that were enough to drive any man of acres frantic. - -Unluckily there were roads all about Rockville; foot roads, and high -roads, and bridle roads. There was a road up the river-side, all the -way to Rockville woods; and when it reached them, it divided like -a fork, and one foot-path led straight up a magnificent grove of a -mile long, ending close to the hall: and another ran all along the -river-side, under the hills and branches of the wood. - -Oh, delicious were those woods! In the river there were islands, -which were covered in summer with the greenest grass, and the -freshest of willows, and the clearest of waters rushed around them in -the most inviting manner imaginable. And there were numbers of people -extremely ready to accept this delectable invitation of these waters. -There they came in fine weather, and as these islands were only -separated from the mainland by a little and very shallow stream, it -was delightful for lovers to get across, with laughter, and treading -on stepping-stones, and slipping off the stepping-stones up to the -ankles into the cool brook, with pretty screams and fresh laughter, -and then landing on those sunny, and to them, really enchanted -islands. - -And then came fishermen: solitary fishermen, and fishermen in rows; -fishermen lying in the flowery grass, with fragrant meadow-sweet and -honey-breathing clover all about their ears; and fishermen standing -in file, as if they were determined to clear all the river of fish -in a day. And there were other lovers, and troops of loiterers, and -shouting roysterers, going along under the boughs of the wood, and -following the turns of that most companionable of rivers. And there -were boats going up and down; boats full of young people, all holiday -finery and mirth, and boats with duck-hunters, and others, in Sir -Roger’s eyes, detestable marauders, with guns and dogs and great -bottles of beer. In the fine grove, on summer-days, there might be -found hundreds of people. There were pic-nic parties, fathers and -mothers, with whole families of children, and a grand promenade of -the delighted artizans and their wives or sweethearts. - -In the times prior to the growth, rapid yet steady, of the -neighbouring town, Great Castleborough, and to the simultaneous -development of the love-of-nature principle in the Castleburghians, -nothing had been thought of all these roads. The roads were well -enough till they led to these inroads. Then Sir Roger aroused -himself. This must be changed. The roads must be stopped. Nothing was -easier to his fancy. His fellow justices, Sir Benjamin Bullockshed -and Squire Sheepshank, had asked his aid to stop the like nuisances, -and it had been done at once. So Sir Roger put up notices all about, -that the roads were to be stopped by an Order of Session, and these -notices were signed, as required by law, by their worships of -Bullockshed and Sheepshank. But Sir Roger soon found that it was one -thing to stop a road leading from One-man-town to Lonely Lodge, and -another to attempt to stop those leading from Great Castleborough to -Rockville. - -On the very first Sunday after the exhibition of those notice-boards, -there was a ferment in the Grove of Rockville, as if all the bees -in the county were swarming there, and all the wasps and hornets to -boot. Great crowds were collected before each of these obnoxious -placards, and the amount of curses vomited forth against them was -really shocking for any day, but more especially for a Sunday. -Presently there was a rush at them; they were torn down, and -simultaneously pitched into the river. There were great crowds -swarming all about Rockville all that day, and the next, being -St. Monday, with looks so defiant, that Sir Roger more than once -contemplated sending off for the Yeomanry Cavalry to defend his -house, which he seriously thought in danger. - -But so far from being intimidated from proceeding, this -demonstration only made Sir Roger the more determined. To have so -desperate and irreverent a population coming about his house and -woods, now presented itself in a much more formidable aspect than -ever. So, next day, not only were the placards once more hoisted, but -rewards offered for the discovery of the offenders, attended with all -the maledictions of the insulted majesty of the law. No notice was -taken of this; but the whole of Great Castleborough was in a buzz and -an agitation. There were posters plastered all over the walls of the -town, four times as large as Sir Roger’s notices, in this style:— - -“Englishmen! Your dearest rights are menaced! The woods of Rockville, -your ancient, rightful, and enchanting resort, are to be closed to -you. Castleburghians, the eyes of the world are upon you. ‘Awake! -arise! or be for ever fallen!’ England expects every man to do his -duty! And your duty is to resist and defy the grasping soil-lords, -to seize on your ancient patrimony!” - -“Patrimony! Ancient and rightful resort of Rockville!” Sir Roger -was astounded at the audacity of this upstart plebeian race. -What! they actually claimed Rockville, the heritage of a hundred -successive Rockvilles, as their own. Sir Roger determined to carry -it to the Sessions; and at the Sessions was a magnificent muster -of all his friends. There was Sir Roger himself in the chair; and -on either hand a prodigious row of country squirearchy. There was -Sir Benjamin Bullockshed, and Sir Thomas Tenterhook, and all the -squires—Sheepshank, Ramsbottom, Turnbull, Otterbrook, and Swagsides. -The clerk of the Sessions read the notice for the closing of all -the foot-paths through the woods of Rockville, and declared that -this notice had been duly, and for the required period, publicly -posted. The Castleburghians protested by their able lawyer, Dare -Deville, against any order for the closing of these ancient woods—the -inestimable property of the public. - -“Property of the public!” exclaimed Sir Roger. “Property of the -public!” echoed the multitudinous voices of indignant Bullocksheds, -Tenterhooks, and Ramsbottoms. “Why, sir, do you dispute the right of -Sir Roger Rockville to his own estate?” - -“By no means,” replied the undaunted Dare Deville; “the estate of -Rockville is unquestionably the property of the honourable baronet, -Sir Roger Rockville; but the roads through it are as unquestionably -the property of the public.” - -The whole bench looked at itself; that is, at each other, in -wrathful astonishment. The swelling in the diaphragms of the squires -of Otterbrook, Turnbull, and Swagsides, and all the rest of the -worshipful row, was too big for utterance. Only Sir Roger himself -burst forth with an abrupt—“Impudent fellow! But I’ll see him —— -first!” - -“Grant the order!” said Sir Benjamin Bullockshed; and the whole -bench nodded assent. The able lawyer Dare Deville retired with a -pleasant smile. He saw an agreeable prospect of plenty of grist to -his mill. Sir Roger was rich, and so was Great Castleborough. He -rubbed his hands not in the least like a man defeated, and thought to -himself—“Let them go at it—all right.” - -The next day the placards on the Rockville estate were changed for -others, bearing, “STOPPED BY ORDER OF SESSIONS!” and alongside -of them were huge carefully painted boards, denouncing on all -trespassers prosecutions according to law. The same evening came -a prodigious invasion of Castleburghians, who tore down all the -boards and placards, and carried them on their shoulders to Great -Castleborough, singing as they went, “See the Conquering Heroes -come!” They set them up in the centre of the Castleborough -market-place, and burnt them along with an effigy of Roger Rockville. - -This was grist at once to the mill of the able lawyer Dare Deville. -He looked on and rubbed his hands. Warrants were speedily issued by -the baronets of Bullockshed and Tenterhook, for the apprehension of -the individuals who had been seen carrying off the notice-boards, -for larceny; and against a number of others for trespass, and for -aiding and abetting. There was plenty of work for Dare Deville and -his brethren of the robe; but it all ended, after the flying about of -sundry mandamuses and assize trials, in Sir Roger finding that though -Rockville was his, the roads through it were the public’s. - -As Sir Roger drove homewards from the assize, which finally settled -the question of those foot-paths, he heard the bells in all the -steeples of Great Castleborough burst forth with a grand peal of -triumph. He closed the windows of his fine old carriage, and sunk -into a corner: but he could not drown the intolerable sound. “But,” -said he, “I’ll stop their pic-nicing. I’ll stop their fishing. I’ll -have hold of them for trespassing and poaching!” There was war -henceforth between Rockville and Great Castleborough. - -On the next Sunday there came literally thousands of the jubilant -Castleburghians to Rockville. They had brought baskets and wine for -dining and drinking success to all foot-paths. But in the great -grove there were keepers and watchers, who warned them to keep the -path, that narrow, well-worn line up the middle of the grove. “What! -were they not to sit on the grass?” “No.” “What! were they not to -pic-nic?” “No; not there!” - -The Castleburghians felt a sudden damp on their spirits. But the -river-bank! The cry was “to the river-bank! There they _would_ -pic-nic!” The crowd rushed away down the wood; but there they found -a whole regiment of watchers, who pointed again to the narrow line of -foot-path, and told them not to trespass beyond it. But the islands! -They went over to the islands. There, too, were Sir Roger’s forces, -who warned them back. There was no road there—all found there would -be trespassers, and be duly punished. - -The Castleburghians discovered that their triumph was not quite -so complete as they had flattered themselves. The foot-paths were -theirs, but that was all. Their ancient licence was at an end. If -they came there, there was no more fishing; if they came in crowds, -there was no more pic-nicing; if they walked through the woods in -numbers, they must keep to Indian file, or they were summoned before -the county magistrates for trespass and were soundly fined; and not -even the able Dare Deville would undertake to defend them. - -The Castleburghians were chop-fallen, but they were angry and dogged; -and they thronged up to the village, and the front of the hall. They -filled the little inn in the hamlet—they went by scores, and roving -all over the churchyard, read epitaphs— - - “That teach the rustic moralists to die,” - -but don’t teach them to give up their old indulgences very -good-humouredly. They went and sat in a row on the old -churchyard-wall, opposite to the very windows of the irate Sir Roger. -They felt themselves beaten, and Sir Roger felt himself beaten. -True, he could coerce them to the foot-path—but, then, they had the -foot-paths: yet, on the other hand, the pic-nicing, and the fishing, -and the islands! The Castleburghians were full of sullen wrath, and -Sir Roger was—oh, most expressive old Saxon phrase—HAIRSORE! Yes, -he was one universal wound of vexation and jealousy of his rights. -Every hair in his body was like a pin sticking in him. Come within -a dozen yards of him; nay, at the most, blow on him, and he was -excruciated—you rubbed his sensitive hairs at a furlong’s distance. - -The next Sunday the people found the churchyard locked up, except -during service, when beadles walked there, and desired them not -to loiter and disturb the congregation, closing the gates and -showing them out like a flock of sheep the moment the service was -over. This was fuel to the already boiling blood of Castleborough. -The week following, what was their astonishment to find the much -frequented, the charming little rustic inn gone. It was actually -gone! not a trace of it; but the spot where it had stood for ages, -turfed, planted with young spruce trees, and fenced off with post -and rail. The exasperated people now launched forth an immensity of -fulminations against the churl, Sir Roger; and a certain number of -them resolved to come and seat themselves in the street of the hamlet -and there dine; but a terrific thunderstorm, which seemed in league -with Sir Roger, soon routed them, drenched them through, and on -attempting to seek shelter in the cottages, the poor people said they -were very sorry, but it was as much as their holdings were worth, and -they dare not admit them. - -Sir Roger had triumphed! It was all over with the old delightful days -at Rockville. There was an end of pic-nicing, of fishing, of roving -in the islands. One sturdy disciple of Izaak Walton, indeed, dared -to fling a line from the banks of Rockville Grove, but Sir Roger -himself came upon him, and endeavoured to seize him. The man coolly -walked into the middle of the river, and without a word continued his -fishing. - -“Get out there!” exclaimed Sir Roger, “that is still on my property.” -The man waded through the river to the other bank, where he knew -that the land was rented by a farmer. “Give over!” shouted Sir Roger. -“I tell you the water is mine!” - -“Then,” said the fellow, “bottle it up, and be-hanged to you! Don’t -you see it is all running away to Castleborough?” - -The story was carried by the man to the town, and occasioned a good -laugh, and many a time when Sir Roger appeared in the place, he -was greeted with—“Why don’t you bottle up the Trent?” But the joke -did not compensate for a tittle of what was lost: there was bad -blood between Rockville and Castleborough as a settled condition. -Castleborough was incensed, and Sir Roger was hairsore. - -A new nuisance sprang up. The people of Castleborough looked on -the cottagers of Rockville as sunk in the deepest darkness under -Sir Roger, and his cousin the vicar, who had seconded, and it was -believed had instigated the baronet to a great portion of these -proceedings. They could not pic-nic, but they thought they could -hold a camp-meeting. They could not fish for roach, but they thought -they might for souls. Accordingly, there assembled crowds of -Castleburghians on the green of Rockville, with a chair and a table, -and a preacher with his head bound in a red handkerchief; and soon -there was a sound of hymns, and a zealous call to come out of the -darkness of Babylon. But this was more than Sir Roger could bear; he -rushed forth with all his servants, keepers, and cottagers, overthrew -the table, and routing the assembly, chased them to the boundary of -his estate. - -The discomfited Castleburghians now fulminated awful judgments on -the unhappy Sir Roger, as a persecutor and malignant. They dared not -enter again on his park, but they came to the very verge of it, and -held weekly meetings on the highway, in which they sang and declaimed -as loudly as possible, that the winds might bear their voices to Sir -Roger’s ears. - -To such a condition was now reduced the last of the long line of -Rockville. The spirit of a policeman had taken possession of him; he -had keepers and watchers out on all sides, but that did not satisfy -him. He was perpetually haunted with the idea that poachers were -after his game; that trespassers were in his woods. His whole life -was now spent in strolling to and fro in his fields and plantations, -and in prowling along his river-side. He looked under hedges, and -watched for long hours under forest trees. If any one had a curiosity -to see Sir Roger, they had only to enter his fields by the wood -side, and wander a few yards from the path, and he was almost sure -to spring out over the hedge, and in hurried and angry, almost -stammering tones, demand their name and address. The descendant -of the chivalrous and steel-clad De Rockvilles was sunk into a -restless spy on his own ample property. There was but one idea in -his mind—encroachment. It was destitute of all other furniture but -the musty technicalities of warrants and commitments. There was a -stealthy and skulking manner in everything he did. He went to church -on Sunday, but it was no longer by the grand iron-gate opposite to -his house,—that stood generally with a large spider’s web woven over -the lock, and several others in the corners of the fine iron tracery, -bearing evidence of the long period since it had been opened. How -different to the time when Sir Roger and Lady Rockville had had these -gates thrown wide on Sunday morning, and with all their train of -household servants at their back, with true antique dignity, marched, -with much proud humility, into the house of God. Now, Sir Roger—the -solitary, suspicious, undignified Sir Roger, the keeper and policeman -of his own property—stole in at a little side-gate from his paddock, -and back the same way, wondering all the time whether there was not -somebody in his pheasant preserves, or Sunday trespassers in his -grove. - -If you entered his house, it gave you as cheerless a feeling as its -owner. There was a conservatory, so splendid with rich plants and -flowers in his mother’s time, now a dusty receptacle of hampers, -broken hand-glasses and garden tools. These tools could never be -used, for the gardens had grown wild. Tall grass grew in the walks, -and the huge unpruned shrubs disputed the passage with you. In the -wood above the gardens, reached by several flights of fine, but now -moss-grown steps, there stood a pavilion, which had once clearly been -very beautiful. It was now damp and ruinous—its walls covered with -greenness and crawling insects. It was a great lurking place of Sir -Roger, when on the watch for poachers. - -The line of the Rockvilles was evidently running fast out. It had -reached the extremity of imbecility and contempt—it must soon reach -its close. - -Sir Roger used to make his regular annual visit to town; but of late, -when there he had wandered restlessly about the streets peeping into -the shop-windows: and if it rained, he would stand under an entry -for hours, waiting till it was gone over, rather than take a cab or -omnibus. The habit of lurking and peering about was become fixed, and -his feet bore him instinctively into those narrow and crowded alleys -where swarm the poachers of the city—the trespassers and anglers in -the game preserves and streams of humanity. He had lost all pleasure -in his club; the most exciting themes of political life retained no -piquancy for him. His old friends ceased to find any pleasure in him. -He was become the driest of all dry wells. Poachers, and anglers, and -Methodists, haunted the wretched purlieus of his fast fading-out -mind, and he resolved to go to town no more. His whole nature was -centred in his woods. He was for ever on the watch; and when at -Rockville again, if he heard a door clap when in bed, he thought it a -gun in his woods; and was up and out with his keepers. - -Of what value was that magnificent estate to him? those superb -woods; those finely-hanging cliffs; that clear and _riante_ river, -careering, travelling on, and taking a noble sweep below his window; -that glorious expanse of most verdant meadows, stretching almost to -Castleborough, and enlivened by numerous herds of the most beautiful -cattle; those old farms and shady lanes overhung with hazel and wild -rose; the glittering brook, and the songs of woodland birds—what were -they to that worn-out old man, that victim to the delusive doctrine -of blood, that man-trap, of an hereditary name? - -There the poet could come and feel the presence of divinity in that -noble scene, and hear sublime whispers in the trees, and create new -heavens and new earths from the glorious charms of nature around him, -and in one short hour live an empyrean of celestial life and love. -There could come the very humblest children of the plebeian town, and -feel a thrill of exquisite delight pervade their bosoms at the sight -of the very flowers on the sod, and see heaven in the infinite blue -above them. And poor Sir Roger, the holder, but not the possessor -of all, walked only in a region of sterility, with no sublimer -ideas than poachers and trespassers—no more rational enjoyment -than the brute indulgence of hunting like a ferret, and seizing -his fellow-men like a bulldog. He was a specimen of human nature -degenerated; retrograded from the divine to the bestial, through -the long-operating influences of false notions, and institutions -continued beyond their time. He had only the soul of a keeper. Had -he been only a keeper he had been a much happier man. - - - - - CHAPTER II. - - THE FIRST OF A NEW LINE. - - -In Great Castleborough there lived a race of paupers. From the year -of the 42nd of Elizabeth, or 1601, down to the present generation, -this race maintained an uninterrupted descent. Like that of many a -more worldly-favoured race, theirs was a descent; it had nothing of -an ascent in it. But that is the fate of ancestry. A man on some -particular occasion ascends; makes himself a mark in his time; -perhaps a name in the world’s annals, and from him his family -_descends_. - -The expression is perfectly correct; as the heralds truly have it; -it descends, fades out, and is gone. It has lived? no, continued, -a thousand years perhaps; it has descended, and prided itself on -descending. That was the case of the Rockvilles; and when we hear of -families and persons illustriously or honourably descended, we hear -an internal echo which says, “Yes—descended.” The truly great man -_ascends_ from his ancestors. - -There was a steady and unbroken line of paupers in Great -Castleborough, as the parish books testify. No families had a more -unquestionable pedigree. There was no flaw, no dubious spot in it. -The parish books were the red-books of this race. No genealogy -could bear a more rigid scrutiny than theirs. From generation to -generation their demands on the parish funds stand recorded. There -were no _lacunæ_ in their career; there was no occasion for the -herald to skip skilfully from cousin to doubtful cousin, nor great -lawyers to cast a costly glamour over some delicate question of -legitimacy. There never failed a rightful heir to their families. -Fed on the bread of idleness and legal provision, these people -flourished, increased, and multiplied. Sometimes required to work -for the weekly stipend which they received, they never acquired a -taste for labour, or lost the taste for the bread for which they did -not labour. These paupers regarded their maintenance by no means -as a disgrace. They claimed it as a right—as their patrimony. They -contended that one-third of the property of the Church had been given -by benevolent individuals for the support of the poor, and that what -the Reformation wrongfully deprived them of, the great enactment of -Elizabeth rightfully—and only rightfully—restored. - -Those who imagine that all paupers merely claim parish relief because -the law has ordained it, commit a great error. There were numbers -then who were hereditary paupers, on a higher principle even than -hereditary peers, and that on a tradition carefully handed down, that -they were only manfully claiming their own. They traced their claims -from the most ancient feudal times. They were none of your modern -manufactures, the offspring of wretched political necessities. They -came down from times when the lord was as much bound to maintain his -villein in gross, as the villein was to work for the lord. These -paupers were in fact, or claimed to be, the original _adscripti -glebæ_, and to have as sound a claim to parish support as the landed -proprietor had to his land. For this reason, in the old Catholic -times, after they had escaped from villenage by running away from -their hundred, and remaining absent for a year and a day, dwelling -for that period in a walled town, these people were amongst the most -diligent attendants at the abbey doors, and, when the abbeys were -dissolved, were, no doubt, amongst the most daring of those thieves, -vagabonds, and sturdy rogues who, after the Robin Hood fashion, -beset the highways and solitary farms of England, and claimed their -black-mail in a very unceremonious style. It was out of this class -that Henry VIII. hanged his seventy-two thousand during his reign, -and, as it is said, without appearing materially to diminish their -number. - -That they continued to “increase, multiply, and replenish the earth,” -overflowing all bounds, overpowering by mere populousness all the -severe laws against them, of whipping, burning in the hand, in the -forehead, or the breast, and hanging, and filling the whole country -with alarm, is evidenced by the very Act of Elizabeth itself. - -Amongst these hereditary paupers who, as we have said, were found in -Castleborough, there was a family of the name of Deg. This family -had never failed to demand and enjoy what it held to be its share -of its ancient inheritance. It appeared from the parish records, -that they practised, in different periods, the crafts of shoemaking, -tailoring, and chimney-sweeping; but since the invention of the -stocking-frame they had, one and all of them, followed the profession -of stocking-weavers; or, as they were there called, stockingers. -This was a trade which required no extreme exertion of the physical -or intellectual powers. To sit in a frame, and throw the arms to -and fro, was a thing that might be carried to a degree of extreme -diligence, or be let down into a mere apology for idleness. An “idle -stockinger” was then no very uncommon phrase, and the Degs were -always classed under that head. Nothing could be more admirably -adapted than this trade for building a plan of parish relief upon. -The Degs did not pretend to be absolutely without work, or the parish -authorities would soon have set them to some real labour—a thing -that they particularly recoiled from, having a very old adage in the -family, that “hard work was enough to kill a man.” - -There was, indeed, an anecdote of three of the Degs which was -continually quoted as exemplifying the three degrees of extreme -indolence. According to this, three Degs were lying one fine autumn -day under a neighbour’s pear-tree. One of them, in a languid tone, -said, “There! a pear has dropped.” The second observed, still more -languidly, “I wish I had it.” The third was too lazy even to open his -mouth to express such a wish, much less to move and get it. - -The Degs, then, were seldom out of work; but they did not get enough, -or do enough, to meet and tie. They had but little work if times -were bad, and if times were good, they complained of large families -and sickly wives and children. Be times what they would, therefore, -the Degs were due and successful attendants at the parish pay-table. -Nay, so much was this a matter of course, that they came at length -not even to trouble themselves to receive their pay, but sent their -young children for it; and it was duly paid. Did any parish officer, -indeed, turn restive, and decline to pay a Deg, he soon found -himself summoned before a magistrate, and such pleas of sickness, -want of work, and poor earnings brought forward, that he most likely -got a sharp rebuke from the benevolent but uninquiring magistrate, -and acquired a character of hard-heartedness that stuck to him. - -So parish overseers learnt to let the Degs alone; and their -children, thus regularly brought up to receive the parish money for -their parents, were impatient, as they grew up, to receive it for -themselves. Marriages in the Deg family were, consequently, very -early, and there were plenty of instances of married Degs claiming -parish relief under the age of twenty, on the plea of being the -parents of two children. One such precocious individual being asked -by a rather verdant officer why he was married before he was able to -maintain a family, replied, in much astonishment, that he had married -in order to maintain himself by parish assistance. That he had -never been able to maintain himself by his labour, nor ever expected -to do it: his only hope, therefore, lay in marrying, and becoming -the father of two children, to which patriarchal rank he had now -attained, and demanded his “pay.” - -Thus had lived and flourished the Degs on their ancient patrimony, -the parish, for upwards of two hundred years. Nay, we have no doubt -whatever that, if it could have been traced, they had enjoyed an -ancestry of paupers as long as the pedigree of Sir Roger Rockville -himself. In the days of the most perfect villenage they had, -doubtless, eaten the bread of idleness, and claimed it as a right. -They were numerous, improvident, ragged in dress, and fond of an -alehouse and gossip. Like the blood of Sir Roger, their blood had -become peculiar through a long persistence of the same circumstances. -It was become pure pauper blood. - -The Degs married, if not entirely amongst Degs, yet amongst the same -class. None but a pauper would dream of marrying a Deg, even were she -handsome as Helen of Troy. The Degs, therefore, were in constitution, -in mind, in habit, and in inclination, paupers. But a pure and -unmixed class of this kind does not die out like an aristocratic -stereotype. It increases and multiplies. The lower the grade, the -more prolific, as is sometimes seen on a large and even national -scale. The Degs threatened, therefore, to become a most formidable -clan in the lower purlieus of Castleborough; but, luckily, there is -so much virtue even in evils, that one not rarely cures another. War, -the great evil, cleared the town of Degs. - -Fond of idleness, of indulgence, of money easily got and as easily -spent, the Degs were rapidly drained off by recruiting parties during -the great French war. The young men enlisted, and were marched away; -the young women married soldiers that were quartered in the town -from time to time, and marched away with them. There were eventually -none of the once numerous Degs left, except a few old people, whom -death was sure to draft off at no distant period into his regiment of -the line which has no end. Parish overseers, magistrates, and master -manufacturers felicitated themselves on this unhoped-for deliverance -from the ancient family of the Degs. - -But one cold, clear winter evening, the east wind piping his sharp, -sibilant ditty in the hawthorn hedges, and poking his sharp fingers -into the sides of well broad-clothed men by way of passing joke, -Mr. Spires, a great manufacturer of Castleborough, driving in his -gig some seven miles from the town, passed a poor woman with a -stout child on her back. The large ruddy-looking man in the prime -of life, and in the greatcoat and thick worsted gloves of a wealthy -traveller, cast a glance at the wretched creature trudging heavily -on, expecting a pitiful appeal to his sensibilities, and thinking it -a bore to have to pull off a glove, and dive into his pocket for a -copper; but to his surprise, there was no demand, only a low curtsey, -and the glimpse of a face of singular honesty of expression, and of -excessive weariness. - -Spires was a man of warm feelings; he looked earnestly at the woman, -and thought he had never seen such a picture of fatigue in his life. -He pulled up and said, - -“You seem very tired, my good woman.” - -“Awfully tired, sir.” - -“And are you going far to-night?” - -“To Great Castleborough, sir, if God give me strength.” - -“To Castleborough!” exclaimed Mr. Spires, “why you seem ready to -drop; you’ll never reach it. You’d better stop at the next village.” - -“Ay, sir, it is easy stopping for those who have money.” - -“And you’ve none, eh?” - -“As God lives, sir, I’ve a sixpence, and that’s all.” - -Mr. Spires put his hand in his pocket and held out to her the next -instant half-a-crown. - -“There, stop, poor thing—make yourself comfortable—it’s quite out -of the question to reach Castleborough. But stay, are your friends -living in Castleborough? What are you?” - -“A poor soldier’s widow, sir: and may God Almighty bless you,” said -the poor woman, taking the money, the tears standing in her large -brown eyes as she curtseyed very low. - -“A soldier’s widow,” said Mr. Spires. She had touched the softest -place in the manufacturer’s heart, for he was a very loyal man, and -vehement champion of his country’s honour in the war. “So young,” -said he,—“how did you lose your husband?” - -“He fell, sir,” said the poor woman,—but she could get no further; -she suddenly caught up the corner of her grey cloak, covered her face -with it, and burst into an excess of grief. - -The manufacturer felt as if he had hit the woman a blow by his -careless question. He sat watching her for a moment in silence, and -then said—“Come, get into the gig, my poor woman; come, I must see -you to Castleborough.” - -The poor woman dried her tears, and heavily climbed into the gig, -expressing her gratitude in a very touching and modest manner. Spires -buttoned the apron over her, and taking a look at the child, said -in a cheerful tone to comfort her, “Bless me, but that is a fine, -thumping fellow, though. I don’t wonder you are tired, carrying such -a load.” - -The poor woman pressed the stout child, apparently two years old, to -her heart, as if she felt it a great blessing, and no load. The gig -drove rapidly on. - -Presently, Mr. Spires resumed his conversation. - -“So you are from Castleborough?” - -“No, sir, my husband was.” - -“So: what was his name?” - -“John Deg, sir.” - -“Deg?” said Mr. Spires; “Deg, did you say?” - -“Yes, sir.” - -The manufacturer seemed to hitch himself off towards his own side of -the gig, gave another look at her, and was silent. The poor woman -seemed somewhat astonished at his look and movement, and was silent -too. - -After awhile Mr. Spires said again, “And do you hope to find friends -in Castleborough? Had you none where you came from?” - -“None, sir; none in the world!” said the poor woman, and again her -feelings seemed too strong for her. At length she added, “I was in -service, sir, at Poole, in Dorsetshire, when I married; my mother -only was living, and while I was away with my husband, she died. -When—when the news came from abroad, that—when I was a widow, sir, I -went back to my native place, and the parish-officers said I must go -to my husband’s parish lest I and my child should become troublesome.” - -“You asked relief of them?” - -“Never! oh, God knows, no, never! My family have never asked a penny -of a parish,—they would die first, and so would I, sir; but they said -I might do it, and I had better go to my husband’s parish at once and -they offered me money to go.” - -“And you took it, of course.” - -“No, sir; I had a little money, which I had earned by washing and -laundering; and I sold most of my things, as I could not carry them, -and came off. I felt hurt, sir; my heart rose against the treatment -of the parish, and I thought I should be better amongst my husband’s -friends,—and my child would, if anything happened to me. I had no -friends of my own.” - -Mr. Spires looked at the woman in silence. - -“Did your husband tell you anything of his friends? What sort of a -man was he?” - -“Oh, he was a gay young fellow, rather, sir; but not bad to me. He -always said his friends were well off in Castleborough.” - -“He did!” said the manufacturer, with a great stare, and as if -bolting the words from his heart in a large gust of wonder. - -The poor woman again looked at him with a strange look. The -manufacturer whistled to himself, and giving his horse a smart cut -with the whip, drove on faster than ever. The night was fast settling -down; it was numbing cold; a grey fog rose from the river as they -thundered over the old bridge; and tall engine chimneys, and black -smoky houses loomed through the dusk before them. They were at -Castleborough. - -As they slackened their pace up a hill at the entrance of the town, -Mr. Spires again opened his mouth. - -“I should be very sorry to hurt your feelings, Mrs. Deg,” he said, -“but I have my fears that you are coming to this place with false -expectations. I fear your husband did not give you the truest -possible account of his family here.” - -“Oh, sir! What—what is it?” exclaimed the poor woman; “in God’s name, -tell me!” - -“Why, nothing more than this,” said the manufacturer; “there are few -of the Degs left here. They are old, and on the parish, and can do -nothing for you.” - -The poor woman gave a deep sigh, and was silent. - -“But don’t be cast down,” said Mr. Spires. He would not tell her -what a pauper family it really was; for he saw that she was a very -feeling woman, and he thought that she would learn that soon enough. -He felt that her husband had from vanity given her a false account of -his connections; and he was really sorry for her. - -“Don’t be cast down!” he went on; “you can wash and iron, you say; -you are young and strong; those are your friends. Depend on them, and -they will be better to you than any other.” - -The poor woman was silent, leaning her head down on her slumbering -child, and crying to herself; and thus they drove on through many -long and narrow streets, with lights glaring from the shops, but with -few people in the streets, and those hurrying shivering along the -pavement, so intense was the cold. Anon, they stopped at a large pair -of gates; and the manufacturer rang a bell, which he could reach from -his gig; and the gates were presently flung open, and they drove into -a spacious yard, with a large handsome house, having a bright lamp -burning before it, on one side of the yard, and tall warehouses on -the other. - -“Show this poor woman and her child to Mrs. Craddock’s, James,” said -Mr. Spires, “and tell Mrs. Craddock to make them very comfortable; -and if you will come to my warehouse to-morrow,” added he, addressing -the poor woman, “perhaps I can be of some use to you.” - -The poor woman poured out her heartfelt thanks, and following the old -man-servant, soon disappeared, hobbling over the pebbly pavement with -her living load, her limbs stiffened almost to stone by her fatigue -and cold ride. - -We must not pursue too minutely our narrative. Mrs. Deg was engaged -to do the washing and getting up of Mr. Spires’s linen, and the -manner in which she executed her task, insured her recommendations to -all their friends. Mrs. Deg was at once in full employ. She occupied -a neat house in a yard near the meadows below the town, and in these -meadows she might be seen spreading out her clothes to whiten on the -grass attended by her stout little boy. In the same yard lived a -shoemaker, who had two or three children of almost the same age as -Mrs. Deg’s child. The children, as time went on, became playfellows. -Little Simon might be said to have the free run of the shoemaker’s -house, and he was the more attracted thither by the shoemaker’s -birds, and his flute, on which he often played when his work was done. - -Mrs. Deg took a great liking to the shoemaker: and he and his wife, -a quiet, kind-hearted woman, were almost all the acquaintances that -she cultivated. She had found out her husband’s parents; but they -were not of a description that at all pleased her. They were old and -infirm, but they were of the true pauper breed, a sort of persons -whom Mrs. Deg had been taught to avoid and to despise. They looked -on her as a sort of second parish, and insisted that she should come -and live with them, and help to maintain them out of her earnings. -But Mrs. Deg would rather that her little boy had died than have been -familiarised with the spirit of these old people. Despise them she -struggled hard not to do, and she agreed to allow them sufficient -to maintain them, on condition that they desisted from any further -application to the parish. It would be a long and disgusting tale to -recount all the troubles, annoyances, and querulous complaints and -even bitter accusations that she received from her connections, whom -she could never satisfy; but she considered it one of her crosses in -life, and patiently bore it, seeing that they suffered no real want, -so long as they lived, which was for years; but she would never allow -her little Simon to be with them alone. - -The shoemaker neighbour was a stout protector to her against the -greedy demands of the old people, and of others of the old Degs, and -also against another class of inconvenient visitors, namely suitors, -who saw in Mrs. Deg a neat and comely young woman, with a flourishing -business, and a neat and well-furnished house, a very desirable -acquisition. But Mrs. Deg had resolved never again to marry, but -to live for the boy, and she kept her resolve with firmness and -gentleness. - -The shoemaker often took walks in the extensive town-meadows, to -gather groundsel and plantain for his canaries and gorse-linnets, and -little Simon Deg delighted to accompany him with his own children. -There William Watson, the shoemaker, used to point out to the -children the beauty of the flowers, the insects, and other objects -of nature; and while he sat on a stile and read in a little old book -of poetry, as he often used to do, the children sate on the summer -grass, and enjoyed themselves in a variety of plays. - -The effect of these walks, and the shoemaker’s conversation on little -Simon Deg, was such as never wore out of him through his whole life, -and soon led him to astonish the shoemaker by his extraordinary -conduct. He manifested the greatest uneasiness at their treading -on the flowers in the grass; he would burst into tears if they -persisted in it; and when asked why, he said they were so beautiful, -and that they must enjoy the sunshine, and be very unhappy to die. -The shoemaker was amazed, but indulged the lad’s fancy. One day he -thought to give him a great treat, and when they were out in the -meadows, he drew from under his coat a bow and arrow, and shot the -arrow high up into the air. He expected to see him in an ecstasy -of delight; his own children clapped their hands in transport, but -Simon stood silent, and as if awestruck. “Shall I send up another?” -asked the shoemaker. - -“No, no!” exclaimed the child, imploringly. “You say God lives up -there, and He mayn’t like it.” - -The shoemaker laughed, but presently he said, as if to himself, -“There is too much imagination there. There will be a poet there if -we don’t take care.” - -The shoemaker offered to teach Simon to read, and to solidify his -mind, as he termed it, by arithmetic, and then to teach him to work -at his trade. His mother was very glad; and thought shoemaking would -be a good trade for the boy; and that with Mr. Watson she should -have him always near her. He was growing now a great lad, and was -especially strong, and of a frank and daring habit. He was greatly -indignant at any act of oppression of the weak by the strong, and not -seldom got into trouble by his championship of the injured in such -cases amongst the boys in the neighbourhood. - -He was now about twelve years of age; when going one day with a -basket of clothes on his head to Mr. Spires’ for his mother, he -was noticed by Mr. Spires himself from his counting-house window. -The great war was raging; there was much distress amongst the -manufacturers; the people were suffering, and exasperated against -their masters. Mr. Spires, as a staunch tory, and supporter of the -war, Was particularly obnoxious to the workpeople, who uttered -violent threats against him. For this reason his premises were -strictly guarded, and at the entrance of his yard, just within the -gates, was chained a large and fierce mastiff, his chain allowing -him to approach near enough to intimidate any stranger, though not -to reach him. The dog knew the people who came regularly about, and -seemed not to notice them; but on the entrance of a stranger, he -rose up, barked, and came to the length of his chain. This always -drew the attention of the porter, if he was away from his box, and -few persons dared to pass till he came. - -Simon Deg was advancing with the basket of clean linen on his head, -when the dog rushed out, and barking loudly, came exactly opposite -to him, within a few feet. The boy, a good deal startled at first, -drew himself back against the wall, but at a glance perceiving that -the dog was at the length of his tether, he seemed to enjoy his -situation, and stood smiling at the furious animal, and lifting -his basket with both hands above his head, nodded to him, as if to -say—“Well, old boy, you’d like to eat me, wouldn’t you?” - -Mr. Spires, who sat near his counting-house window at his books, was -struck with the bold and handsome bearing of the boy, and said to a -clerk, “What boy is that?” - -“It is Jenny Deg’s,” was the answer. - -“Ha! that boy! Zounds! how boys do grow! Why, that’s the child that -Jenny Deg was carrying when she came to Castleborough, and what a -strong, handsome, bright-looking fellow he is now.” - -As the boy was returning, Mr. Spires called him to the counting-house -door, and put some questions to him as to what he was doing and -learning, and so on. Simon, taking off his cap with much respect, -answered in such a clear and modest way, with a voice which had so -much feeling and natural music in it, that the worthy manufacturer -was greatly taken with him. - -“That’s no Deg!” said he, when he again entered the counting-house, -“not a bit of it. He’s all Goodrich, or whatever his mother’s name -was, every inch of him.” - -The consequence of that interview was, that Simon Deg was very soon -after perched on a stool in Mr. Spires’ counting-house, where he -continued till he was twenty-two. Mr. Spires had no son, only a -single daughter; and such were Simon Deg’s talents, attention to -business, and genial disposition, that at that age Mr. Spires gave -him a share in the concern. He was himself now getting less fond of -exertion than he had been, and placed the most implicit reliance on -Simon’s judgment and general management. Yet, no two men could be -more unlike in their opinions beyond the circle of trade. Mr. Spires -was a staunch tory of the staunch old school. He was for church and -king, and for things remaining for ever as they had been. Simon, on -the other hand, had liberal and reforming notions. He was for the -improvement of the people, and their admission to many privileges. -Mr. Spires, therefore, was liked by the leading men of the place, -and disliked by the people. Simon’s estimation was precisely in the -opposite direction. But this did not disturb their friendship; it -required another disturbing cause, and that came. - -Simon Deg and the daughter of Mr. Spires grew attached to each other; -and as the father had thought Simon worthy of becoming a partner in -the business, neither of the young people deemed that he could object -to a partnership of a more domestic description. But here they made -a tremendous mistake. No sooner was such a proposal hinted at, than -Mr. Spires burst forth with the fury of all the winds from the bag of -Ulysses. - -“What! a Deg aspire to the hand of the sole heiress of the enormously -opulent Spires?” - -The very thought almost cut the proud manufacturer off with apoplexy. -The ghosts of a thousand paupers rose up before him, and he was black -in the face. It was only by a prompt and bold application of leeches -and lancet, that the life of the great man was saved. But there was -an end of all further friendship between himself and the expectant -Simon. He insisted that he should withdraw from the concern, and it -was done. Simon, who felt his own dignity deeply wounded too, for -dignity he had, though the last of a long line of paupers—his own -dignity, not his ancestors’—took silently, yet not unrespectfully, -his share—a good round sum, and entered another house of business. - -For several years there appeared to be a feud, and a bitterness -between the former friends; yet, it showed itself in no other manner, -than by a careful avoidance of each other. The continental war -came to an end; the manufacturing distress increased exceedingly. -Then came troublous times, and a fierce warfare of politics. Great -Castleborough was torn asunder by rival parties. On one side stood -pre-eminent, Mr. Spires; on the other towered conspicuously, Simon -Deg. Simon was growing rich, and was extremely popular. He was on -all occasions the advocate of the people. He said that he had -sprung from, and was one of them. He had bought a large tract of -land on one side of the town; and intensely fond of the country and -flowers himself, he had divided this into gardens, built little -summer-houses in them, and let them to the artizans. In his factory, -he had introduced order, cleanliness, and ventilation. He had set -up a school for the children, besides an evening and Sunday school -for such as had begun to work in the factory or the loom, with a -reading-room and conversation-room for the workpeople, and encouraged -them to bring their families there, and enjoy music, books, and -lectures. Accordingly, he was the idol of the people, and the horror -of the old school of the manufacturers. - -“A pretty upstart and demagogue I’ve nurtured,” said Mr. Spires often -to his wife and daughter, who only sighed and were silent. - -Then came a furious election. The town for a fortnight, more -resembled the worst corner of Tartarus, than a Christian borough. -Drunkenness, riot, pumping on one another, spencering one another, -that is, tearing each other’s coat-tails off, all sorts of violence -and abuse ruled and raged, till the blood of all Castleborough was -at boiling heat. In the midst of the tempest were everywhere seen, -ranged on the opposite sides, Mr. Spires, now old and immensely -corpulent, and Simon Deg, active, buoyant, zealous, and popular -beyond measure. But popular though he still was, the other and old -tory side triumphed. The people were exasperated to madness; and -when the chairing of the successful candidate commenced, there was a -terrific attack made on the procession by the defeated party. Down -went the chair, and the new member, glad to escape into an inn, -saw his friends mercilessly assailed by the populace. There was a -tremendous tempest of sticks, brickbats, paving-stones and rotten -eggs. In the midst of this, Simon Deg, and a number of his friends, -standing at the upper window of an hotel, saw Mr. Spires knocked -down, and trampled on by the crowd. In an instant, and before his -friends had missed him from amongst them, Simon Deg was seen darting -through the raging mass, cleaving his way with a surprising vigour, -and gesticulating, and, no doubt, shouting vehemently to the rioters, -though his voice was lost in the din. In the next moment his hat was -knocked off, and himself appeared in imminent danger; but another -moment, and there was a pause, and a group of people were bearing -somebody from the frantic mob into a neighbouring shop. It was Simon -Deg assisting in the rescue of his old friend and benefactor, Mr. -Spires. - -Mr. Spires was a good deal bruised, and wonderfully confounded and -bewildered by his fall. His clothes were one mass of mud, and his -face was bleeding copiously; but when he had had a good draught of -water, and his face washed, and had time to recover himself, it was -found that he had received no serious injury. - -“They had like to have done for me, though,” said he. - -“Yes; and who saved you?” asked a gentleman. - -“Ay, who was it? who was it?” asked the really warm-hearted -manufacturer. “Let me know; I owe him my life.” - -“There he is!” said several gentlemen at the same instant, pushing -forward Simon Deg. - -“What, Simon!” said Mr. Spires, starting to his feet. “Was it thee, -my boy?” He did more—he stretched out his hand. The young man clasped -it eagerly; and the two stood silent, and with a heartfelt emotion, -which blended all the past into forgetfulness, and the future into a -union more sacred than esteem. - -A week hence, and Simon Deg was the son-in-law of Mr. Spires. Though -Mr. Spires had misunderstood Simon, and Simon had borne the aspect of -opposition to his old friend, in defence of conscientious principles, -the wife and daughter of the manufacturer had always understood him, -and secretly looked forward to some day of recognition and re-union. - -Simon Deg was now one of the richest men in Castleborough. His mother -was still living to enjoy his elevation. She had been his excellent -and wise housekeeper, and she continued to occupy that post still. - - - - - CHAPTER III. - - THINGS AS THEY USED TO BE. - - -One of the first things which Simon Deg did after Mr. Spires had so -indignantly refused him his daughter on account of his origin, was -to conceive and to carry out a resolve that, however the brand of -pauperism might attach to his ancestors, none of its obligations -should lie on him. “Let past generations settle their own accounts,” -he said; “but so far as this generation goes, there is not a man -of it shall say that I owe the country, or rather this town, a -farthing for life and growth. If my father ever received a bodle of -parish-pay, which I know not, or his father or father’s father for -him, it shall be repaid.” He went, therefore, successively to the -committee of the poor in each parish, of which the town contained -three, and desired permission to search the pay-books of each of -these parishes for the last eighty years. “Beyond that period,” -he said, “there can be no man living who ever paid a farthing to -the poor-rates.” He did not conceal the object of his research. It -was to ascertain, to a fraction, what amount had been paid during -that period to any individual of the name of Deg. His position in -the town readily secured him this opportunity, and he immediately -employed an able accountant in each parish to trace down, through -the books, items of these payments. He promised, moreover, to the -stipendiary, or sub-overseers of the poor, a handsome honorarium, to -assist the accountant in seeing that his work was done completely, -and in aiding him in any difficulty. He himself frequently attended, -and made tests, by going over certain extents of these accounts, -of the accuracy with which they were done. It was a great labour, -and was not completed much under a year. But it was accomplished at -last, and the result was a statement of several thousand pounds as -having been paid to persons of the name of Deg. This amount Simon Deg -paid over with great satisfaction to the respective committees, and -took receipts for it. The parish officers represented to him that -there was no reason whatever that he should make so extraordinary -a refundment to the parish, from which neither he himself nor his -father in his own person could be shown to have derived a penny. -Still more, they represented that Mr. Deg could not be descended from -all the Degs; he could only have descended in one line, and from that -specific line did he only incur even the shadow of an obligation to -the parishes. - -Simon Deg replied, that that was true; but, on the other hand, there -was a female side to the line, the fathers and mothers of women who -married Degs, and daughters of Degs who married and passed under -other names, had swelled the account. He therefore requested to be -allowed to pay the whole account, as it appeared under the name of -Deg; and this was done. He observed, that he did not wish to dictate -in any way the manner in which these sums should be expended, but -he thought that the whole of them might with advantage be employed -in extending and rendering more comfortable those parts of the -workhouses where the aged paupers or the sick were accommodated; and -this suggestion was fully and freely complied with. - -This act of Simon Deg’s, demonstrating a feeling of such a profound -sense of honour and integrity, made a grand impression on his -townspeople, and raised him still higher in public estimation. In the -course of his inquiry he made the discovery that the family name was -in reality Degge, and had been thus spelled from the earliest period -till within the last half of the last century. He therefore resumed -the dropped letters, as giving a greater finish of the name to the -eye; and saying pleasantly that, as he had now discharged the debts -of his progenitors, at least to this generation, he thought he might -be allowed to take the two last letters out of pawn. Henceforth, -therefore, he and every one else wrote him Simon “Degge.” - -Not long after his marriage, he bought a farm at Hillmartin, a -village not far from Rockville. He was naturally of an active -temperament, was fond of riding, and took a great fancy to farming -and shooting. These divertisements were all afforded him by this -little estate. After close confinement in his counting-house, he -liked to get on his horse, and ride briskly out of town, over the -old Trent Bridge, and up the winding way to his farm. Hillmartin -was about three miles out, and stood on a fine, airy elevation, -overlooking the country round, and from this side of it giving a full -view of Castleborough. Simon’s farm lay a little over the hill beyond -Hillmartin, and stretched in one direction towards Gotham, and in -another towards the estate of Sir Benjamin Bullockshed. - -Simon Degge’s purchase of this farm was a subject of great annoyance -to Sir Benjamin, who was very anxious to have it, as it lay alongside -of his woods and game preserves. The fact of seeing his pheasants, -which had found a favourite, because a plentiful feeding-place, on -this farm, shot down by Mr. Degge and his numerous friends from -Castleborough, was, in truth, as great a misfortune as Sir Benjamin -well could imagine to himself. For a quarter of a mile these woods of -his ran along the corn-lands of this farm. The previous farmer had -complained in vain of the depredations of the game—hares, rabbits -and pheasants—which issued out of the preserves in legions. He was -told that he must fence them out, but the fence was Sir Benjamin’s; -and the farmer dared no more to put a stick into it to stop their -runs, than he dared have taken a stick to Sir Benjamin himself. His -growing corn was trodden down by the hares and rabbits; the hares, -according to their habit, cut paths through it, and made playgrounds -in it; the rabbits cropped it as fast as it grew for fifty yards, all -along the woodsides. What escaped and went into ear was regularly -eaten up by the pheasants. They sat on the hedges along the woodside -as tame as barn-door fowls, knowing well that they were under powerful -protection, and during harvest, if a daring waggoner snapped his whip -at them, they disdained to move. On a fine afternoon, so long as -there was anything to pick on the stubble, you might see them feeding -in flocks of a hundred together, as quietly as fowls in a barn-yard. - -The nuisance of this great game-manufactory, ruinous to the farmer, -had compelled one tenant after another to throw the farm up. In -fact, no one knowing the farm would take it; they were only men from -a distance who did so, and were in terrible but vain trepidation -when they discovered the real nature of the game-preserving incubus -that lay upon the land. In itself the land was excellent, and, -therefore, a stranger examining it, who had not already lived in a -game-preserving country, was readily taken in by it. If the farmer, -on discovering the alarming evil, complained, the answer from Sir -Benjamin’s steward was, as I have said, “You can stop the runs in -the hedges but if the farmer did stop them, he found the stoppage -very soon removed by the keepers in their nocturnal rounds. One bold -farmer had kept terriers to scour the woodsides; but he soon found -his dogs, when they followed the game into the wood, shot, or trapped -in the iron traps so freely used by our English gamekeepers, who are -the greatest and most extensive animal torturers that the world ever -knew. - -The farm, belonging to a gentleman of Lincolnshire, he had, by the -frequent change of tenants, grown out of love with it, and had -offered it to Sir Benjamin at a moderate price; but Sir Benjamin, who -did not believe any one thereabout would dare to come between him and -the vendor, was standing out in the secure expectation of getting it -at a very low figure, when Simon Degge, who was inquiring for such a -farm, not far from town, heard of it from a lawyer in Castleborough -who had carried on the negotiations with Sir Benjamin for the owner. -This gentleman was much disgusted with the gross selfishness, the -many delays, and haughty conduct of Sir Benjamin, and was delighted -at the opportunity of putting the property at once and for ever out -of his power. Mr. Degge closed with the conditions of sale at once, -and as the whole of the purchase-money was ready, in a month the farm -was fully conveyed to him, and put into his possession. - -The consternation and indignation of Sir Benjamin on receiving -this intelligence may be imagined. He saw at once that the tables -were now most completely turned against him. He had no longer a -half-informed and comparatively poor farmer to contend with, but -a young man of great acknowledged ability and wealth, as well as -activity of character. Instead of telling Mr. Degge to put sticks -and bushes into the runs of the hares, rabbits, and pheasants, which -his keepers could pull out again, he himself ordered the fences all -along Mr. Degge’s farm to be made game-tight. A fence, inside the -hawthorn-fence, of stakes about two feet long, which were driven down -nearly in contact, side by side, was made to prevent egress from the -preserves to the farm. But all this did not avail. The pheasants, as -the corn ripened, flew over the fences, and fed freely on Mr. Degge’s -corn. The hares travelled round and squatted themselves down thickly -in the green crops of corn, grass, and clover; and the rabbits -burrowed under, requiring continually the stopping of their holes: -for although the rabbits were less cared for by Sir Benjamin, they -were more cared for by his keepers, who made a profitable perquisite -out of them. - -On his part, Mr. Degge did not trouble himself at all about a certain -amount of damage done by this game to his crops along the woodside; -for the money value did not distress him, and he looked on that part -of the farm as a nursery for the game which he meant to invite his -Castleborough friends in the autumn to shoot. - -But the annoyance to Sir Benjamin and his friends did not end here. -Scattered about on that side of the country lay the estates of -a number of squires—the Tenterhooks, Sheepshanks, Otterbrooks, -Swagsides, &c.—who were of a thoroughly countryfied school. They -were men not destitute of a certain amount of education, but who had -no tastes beyond those of living on their property, and being the -lords paramount as far as it extended. To be the great men of their -little ancestral spots of earth; to rule over the farmers; to rear -and destroy game; to officiate as magistrates, and convict poachers -and petty culprits—that was the extent of their ambition. They seldom -frequented the metropolis, or mixed in the society of the more -elevated and refined aristocracy. They formed a circle of society -of their own, looking proudly down on the moneyed men of the market -town, on the farmers and villagers around them—at once ignorant of -all superior knowledge, proud, and arbitrary. - -That a man of the manufacturing town should have dared to step in, -and catch away a valuable farm from before Sir Benjamin Bullockshed’s -very nose, and, as they said, in actually gasping astonishment, -whilst he was in negotiation for it, was a piece of audacity which -really took away their breath. It was ominous of fresh attempts of -the kind. The sanctity of the country and of game was no longer -secure from the unhallowed inroads of plebeian audacity. Sir Roger -Rockville, whose property also at one point came up to Mr. Degge’s -farm, was in a state of most imbecile exasperation at this event. The -dreaded manufacturing town was thus already marching into the very -heart of the country; and of the manufacturing town, the very worst -in his eyes of its odious population. For who was this Degge? he -asked. A pauper, and the last of a long line of paupers. It mattered -not that Mr. Degge had most fully discharged the pauper debt so far -as this generation was concerned. To Sir Roger it was only another -proof of the upstart pride and abundance of money of this dangerous -class. - -The sensation which this shocking event, as it was called, created -in the whole circle of this squirearchy was visible at the meetings -of these men of the earth, earthy, at their dinner-parties at each -other’s houses, and at their meetings at the justice-rooms, and -their morning rides to one another’s houses. A feeling of strange -inveteracy was entertained against Simon Degge. If any of them met -him on the highway as they rode to or from Castleborough, they -scowled at him as though he had been a most suspicious character. -More than once, when two of them were together, he had heard them -remark to one another—for it was done loud enough for him to hear -it—“That is that upstart pauper, Degge.” If any labourer of his could -be caught on any pretence, and brought before them, as magistrates, -he was sure to be handled with the utmost severity and the least -possible modicum of justice; and when Mr. Degge went forward to -speak a word in his defence, he was sure to be treated with a marked -contempt, and even incivility. - -This proceeding did not tend on Mr. Degge’s part to excite any -pleasant feelings in his bosom towards these lords of the soil; but -he maintained a demeanour of true gentlemanliness and self-respect. -At the same time that he certainly felt a great satisfaction in the -idea of the sweeping devastation of the game which he and his friends -would make in the autumn, and which he was sure no precautions could -prevent making its way to his fields so long as there was a better -pasture there, or whilst he scattered a quantity of barley on his -stubbles, after the corn naturally shed on them had been gathered off -by the pheasants. - -Such was the state of feelings all round Simon Degge’s new farm. -So far as he himself was concerned, it seemed only to amuse him -and his town friends, but to the whole squiral group, including Sir -Roger Rockville, it was an acute, and promised to become a chronic -condition of gall and wormwood. Mr. Degge brought his mother to -live at the house belonging to the farm, for she delighted in the -country;—not at the farm-house, for there he had a bailiff, but in -a large old house at the village of Hillmartin itself, with a fine -old-fashioned garden; and there himself and Mrs. Degge spent a great -deal of the fine summer weather. - -Simon Degge had also removed William Watson from his cottage by the -farm meadow, and from his trade, and he was now acting as a sort of -orderly at Mr. Degge’s chief manufactory. He occupied the lodge, and -walked about, and saw that all was safe, and moving as it should do. - -There were several wealthy and intelligent families in the -neighbourhood of Mr. Degge’s farm, who, however, at once -acknowledged the distinguished merit and virtues of this young man, -and who did not hesitate to call on him and Mrs. Degge, much to the -disgust of the class of country gentlemen of whom I have spoken. -These, it must be admitted, had indeed little in common with men of -game and warrants, and did not stand very highly in their favour -before. Let us see whether they may not present a more agreeable -aspect to us. - - - - - CHAPTER IV. - - THE WOODBURNS AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS. - - -Amongst the families which called on the Degges was that of Mr. -Leonard Woodburn, of Woodburn Grange. The Woodburns did not belong to -the so-called great families of the county, but to those of smaller -but independent estate, whose heads were formerly classed under the -name of yeomen. Mr. Woodburn was the possessor of about four hundred -acres of freehold land, beautifully situated about a mile beyond -Rockville, in the vicinity of the Trent, and beautifully cultivated. -The house was one of those old Elizabethan ones with a variety of -projections, pointed gables, and mullioned windows. The chimneys were -of the cross-banded and ornamented kind which are now regarded as -extremely beautiful, and, indeed, they had been thought so a good -while ago, for the father of Sir Thomas Tenterhook, when rebuilding -Tenterhook Hall, had asked the father of the present Mr. Woodburn if -he had any objection to sell them. A proposal, which Mr. Woodburn -had with true yeoman feeling of independence, regarded as so great -an insult, that he turned his back on the baronet as he sat at his -gate on horseback, and in presence of his groom, and closing the gate -pretty sharply, walked into the house without deigning a reply. - -The present Mr. Woodburn, who had been the only son, was a man of -a liberal education, fond of classical literature, and more deeply -learned in all the history, both general and family, of the county, -than any other man in it. Nay, there was scarcely a family of any -note in England of which he did not possess a knowledge which -continually surprised you. He had a real love for topography and -family history, which had led him, as it would seem, insensibly -to acquire not only this knowledge of domestic annals, but of the -titles of almost all the estates in the county, many copies of -which, curious and important in their way, he possessed; and this -knowledge made him a great authority in cases of disputed title, -and had led him to decide the issue of several most noted trials. -He had a habit also of noting down all sorts of curious facts which -came to his knowledge either in the course of his reading of books, -or of the newspapers, or which he heard verbally. These _curiosa_ -had accumulated into several volumes, which he kept locked up in -his desk, and which he would bring out occasionally as something -of public interest was occurring, or as something in conversation -had suggested the reference. A somewhat odd medley a stranger would -have regarded the contents of these volumes, for amongst public -and important facts, would be found jotted down birth-days, dates -of weddings, and funerals of his family or neighbours; and even -remarkable cases of prolificness of fowls, cattle, and fruit-trees on -his farm. There was an entry of the turkey, or the hen that had laid -away in the copse or the thicket, and came forth unexpectedly with -some fifteen or twenty pouts, or chickens. The tame hawk, which was -reared by George, his son, and suddenly flying away, became not only -wild, but the scourge of his poultry-yard, by making continual visits -to it, till at length shot, stands in immediate succession to the -history of the lawyer of the neighbouring town, who, reared at the -cost of the clergyman of Cotmanhaye, whose shoeblack and errand boy -he had originally been, had grown rich by harassing the poor people -of the country round by all sorts of vexatious suits. - -Mr. Woodburn was a quiet gentleman, of somewhat above the middle -stature, now approaching fifty. He would not at that time of day -have been addressed by letter as esquire, though every man who is -not exactly a sweep or a costermonger is so now. He would be written -down, however, Leonard Woodburn of Woodburn, gent., in any public -document, or county summons on judicial service. Mr. Woodburn might -be seen daily riding on a good sturdy horse about his farm, and in -harvest time he did not hesitate to take a hand at raking or forking -in the hay-field, or binding after his reapers in the corn-field; -and on such occasions his children would turn out for a frolic, -rather than for serious work. His harvest done, Leonard Woodburn shot -over his own land, accompanied by his son George, now just come of -age, and who was treading in his father’s steps, being fond of both -agricultural pursuits and of the gun. - -Mrs. Woodburn was a fine, large, comely woman, who, though as well -educated as the ladies generally of her day, and fond of hearing -books read in winters’ evenings rather than reading them herself, -had her heart and pride in her house and her dairy. Churning, -cheese-making, looking after her fowls, her eggs, her calves, and -pigs, and pigeons, her ducks, geese, turkeys, guinea-fowls, her -fruit both of garden and orchard, storing it up, or preserving it; -these were the great business of her daily life, and afforded her a -perpetual satisfaction. It was a real delight to see Mrs. Woodburn -amid her daily duties of this kind, with her handsome, sunny, smiling -face, and tall and ample but active figure, directing her maids, or -helping even in an emergency, or, to instruct a novice, kneeling -on a soft bass, leaning over the side of the large brass pan, with -her fair, full, and finely rounded arms bared to near the shoulder, -crushing down the curd in the whey, or crumbling it and pressing it -into the vat. Or you might see her surrounded by a large flock of -glossy pigeons in the farm-yard, who had descended from their tower -surmounting one of the buildings to receive her daily bounty. Not -that Mrs. Woodburn deemed it her express duty to feed any of the -farm-yard creatures; that belonged to the men-folk, who not only -foddered horses and cows, but fed pigs and poultry, and the pigeons -came down quickly and put in for their share with the numerous and -scuffling family of ducks, geese, turkeys, and all the rest of them. - -It was the custom of farm-houses, and the custom reigned at Woodburn -Grange, for the mistress of the house to receive the profits on -pigs, calves and poultry, with all their eggs, feathers, or other -appurtenances. These were her perquisites, with the butter, in most -cases, to furnish her wardrobe and for spending money. It was, -therefore, natural that the farmer’s wife should keep a patronising -eye on the creatures within her province, and Mrs. Woodburn thus -frequently made her visit to the farm-yard; saw whether the pigs were -well fed and bedded, and that all the feathered flocks in the yard, -or in the paddock, or on the pond were prosperous. The dairymaid fed -the calves till they were ready for the butcher, or to be turned out -into the orchard, where they at first galloped with cocked tails, to -and fro, with a frantic velocity that made it marvellous that they -did not crack their silly, but joyful skulls against the trees. For -some time after their liberation from the calf-house to daylight and -freedom, they were the dairymaid’s care, and Mrs. Woodburn taking her -rambles through the ample kitchen-garden, could stand and survey the -infant herd with professional and a sort of motherly satisfaction. - -Besides their son George, the Woodburns had two daughters, the -elder one, who was really the oldest of the three children, -was the sedate, but kindly Ann. Ann at this epoch was four or -five-and-twenty: of middle stature, an extremely neat figure; of a -very sweet, serious countenance. Quiet, thoughtful, very prudent -in her disposition, but with warm and deep, but not demonstrative -feelings. Ann loved music, and played well on the piano, on which -she was frequently called to charm away the evening hours when the -family was assembled. She was fond of reading, but not of a very -wide range of literature. She had her favourite books of poetry and -piety in her own room, and had the strongest attachment to certain -authors. They were those who touched her heart rather than excited -her imagination, and their thoughts and sentiments were familiar to -her mind as her own thoughts. In the light literature of the day she -took comparatively little interest, though she was ever ready to -read to her mother what she liked. Ann devoted herself to the cares -of the house, but not of the farm. She saw that the meals were all -duly prepared and served: saw that all the rooms were kept in nicest -order; helped often to make a pudding or a pie, and took care, if -guests were expected, that all was in order to receive and entertain -them. Besides these duties, Ann loved the garden, rejoiced in tending -the flowers, and looking after the bees, which had a large shed, and -occupied several shelves in it with their hives towards the lower -and sunniest corner of the garden. Such was Ann, quiet, cheerful, -loving, and busy, but never bustling. Every one relied much on her -clear, good sense and loving interest in them: every one consulted -her in their difficulties, and received from her almost invariably, -the very wisest counsels. Mr. Woodburn said Ann was like many other -still waters, she was deep, and his familiar name for her was, “Old -Sobersides.” - -The last of the flock was the lively, laughing Letitia, seldom -called anything but Letty. Sweet Letty was about seventeen; with all -the vivacity, and eager frank life of a schoolgirl. In fact, she -was that till the other day. Now, she was the sunshine, the flying, -quivering sunshine called Jack-a-dandy, sent by reflection from a -basin of water over walls and ceilings in blithest dance. Letty, -like the Jack-a-dandy, was here and there, in the house, in the -garden, full of joy and love of all things around her; with a face -more charming than beautiful, all smiles and frolic, Letty was ready -to lend a helping hand to her mother or sister; full of talk and -question, making every one glad with her own gladness, and ready to -take a stroll or a ride with her father or George, and to astonish -them with the frank, open, genuine expressions of her young and -innocent heart. Everything they told her of the people or the things -amid which they lived interested her, and any relation of cruel -or unkind treatment of any one, fetched up the colour of a most -lovely roseate indignation to her young, pure cheek, and the warmest -expressions of it to her tongue. Such was blithe Letty—simple, yet -shrewd, loving and light-hearted, the happy embodiment of ardent and -out-blossoming womanhood. - -But Woodburn Grange was a spot made for a happy home, for substantial -ease and abundance, not for grandeur. There was everything there -which enabled its possessors to enjoy the country. A handsome income; -all the rural luxuries of life; horses, an open, but not a close -carriage, a boat on the charming river below, hearts ready to love -good and intelligent neighbours, and such neighbours to love. - -The old house stood in its ample gardens. A low brick wall, -surmounted by a hedge of roses fenced it in from the road, which -ran by from the village to Cotmanhaye, and further up the valley. -A straight walk led up to the handsome, ample porch—you could not -enter the garden in a carriage, but must walk up it,—in summer, amid -a glow and perfume of flowers and a murmur of bees, and a flickering -dance of butterflies, that was delicious. Around and beyond the house -extended the flower-garden with evergreens, and here and there a -fruit-tree. Then down the slope stretched the kitchen-garden, with -its tall south fruit wall, with its trellises of roses and jasmines -bordering beds of raspberries and gooseberries. Its abundant growth -of peas, beans, and all vegetables, its asparagus beds, strawberry -beds, beds of salsify and scorzonera; its quince and medlar and -filbert trees. Then, below still, stretched an old orchard, with -seats here and there under its trees, some of the old trees stooping -one way, some another; and at the bottom ran the Trent, in phrase of -Christopher North, “one of the sincerest streams in England.” - -Tolerably elevated stood the house, overlooking undulating fields, -studded with cattle and sheep, or waving with corn, the patrimonial -estate, and beyond them the woods of Cotmanhaye, and across the river -an expanse of level meadows of some miles in width, with the ruddy -walls of the village of Breton bounding them. On the other hand, -southward, rose a range of sand cliffs, at the foot of which ran the -highway from Rockville to Cotmanhaye, and still beyond the cliffs, -and the patches of trees on their brow, rose the country to the large -farming village of Hillmartin. - -Leonard Woodburn, of Woodburn Grange, though styled but yeoman, had -a homestead which a king might envy, and when Simon and Mrs. Degge -returned the Woodburns’ call, they could not sufficiently express -their delight at it, and went over the house and the cheese-chamber, -with its growing display of goodly cheeses, over the farm-yard, and -through garden and orchard. They were charmed with the view from the -windows, which were different from their own, and no less with the -kindly intelligence of the Woodburns themselves, free, simple, and at -ease; and inly promised themselves much pleasure in their friendship, -which they resolved to cultivate. - -Before rambling farther in our discoveries in this neighbourhood, -we have still a friend of ours to introduce at the Grange, and then -a promenade to make through the village—at least to make a passing -note of it, and say, “Here lives so-and-so, and there lives somebody -else.” Our acquaintance at the Grange is only a servant, however. It -is Betty Trapps, a sort of miscellany of housemaid and cook, in past -days adding something of the nurse to the rest of her duties. Betty -has lived with the Woodburns since she was five-and-twenty, and she -is now—let me see—what? Five-and thirty? Yes—she has lived at least -fifteen years at the Grange, and that makes her—upon my word!—forty! -And yet Betty does not look more than five-and-thirty. She is -middle-sized, middle-bulkish in body, but lithe and active. Never -idle, never weary, never ill, never grumbling, but with a wit and a -will of her own, and always ready to give, as she says, as good as -she gets. In fact, they must be awake that venture on a jest or trick -with Betty. She is the freest of free-spoken women: Mr. Woodburn, who -likes a good-natured nickname, calls her “Meg Merrymouth.” She says -often what she thinks—almost unmercifully; and yet Betty is full of -kindness, and is knowing and shrewd. There is nobody thereabout that -can see half so thoroughly through those she comes into contact with. -But we shall see Betty Trapps again, for she says she means to stay -at the Grange as long as there is a tile on the house, unless Master -should discharge her for chaffing a little, and she does not think he -will. And she has given a good many proofs that she means to keep -her word, for Betty is a Methodist, and is a woman of consequence at -chapel and at the class, and has had a good many offers of marriage -from the brethren, some very well to do; and Betty has so far always -said, “No, thank you.” Civilly, be it understood, and as secretly as -possible, for she does not really, smart as she is sometimes, like to -hurt any one’s feelings. But Betty is shrewdly supposed to have saved -a pretty little stock of money, having lived so long in a good place, -and never indulged in finery, and the brethren may not be always -so easily rebuffed, for this is one of those charms which continue -growing even when others fade. However, the tiles on Woodburn Grange -are extremely good yet, so we shall see. - -A little above Woodburn Grange, and nearer to Rockville, lies the -village of Woodburn. It is not very large, and chiefly built round -a spacious green, on which the young men in summer evenings enjoy -their games of cricket, ninepins, bowls, and quoits. At the corner -where the road enters the green from Rockville, and, of course, -from Castleborough, stands the blacksmith’s shop, where frequently -two or three farm-horses stand waiting to be shod; and a number of -ploughs and harrows lie expecting repairs. There the sturdy smith, -Job Latter, is generally found working and perspiring, and conversing -with a number of village-lads and young men hanging about, whom he -contrives to disperse when they incommode him, by rubbing his hot -iron in his heap of sand, and thus sending a storm of burning stars -in every direction, that makes a sudden scamper. Not far thence, a -congregation of dilapidated carts, waggons, and disabled wheels, mark -the shop of Will Spokeshave, the wainwright. In the centre of the -south side of the green, rises a somewhat large old house with porch -and tall gabled roof, which is the village school, frequented, more -particularly in winter, by the farmers’ and labourers’ sons of the -neighbourhood. This school has now for master a worthy half-Welshman, -named Howell Crusoe (after his mother and father), a man noted far -around as “a great scollard”—a very great, long-headed “scollard.” -He has written a book to teach boys good manners, and a genuine -curiosity it is in its way; and his profound acquaintance with the -customs of polite society may be at once discerned by the following -rules in this his “Book of Etiquette for Boys”—a work now become very -rare, yet of which an odd, and it must be admitted, a _very_ odd -copy, may now and then be met with on the shelves of the bookworms of -Castleborough:—“When a gentleman or lady speaks to you”—thus teaches -Howell Crusoe boy-etiquette—“immediately touch your forehead with the -back of your right hand; then place three fingers of the same hand -between the buttons of the centre of your waistcoat, and expect the -observations of your superior in an attitude of easy but respectful -attention. At any remark of the respected lady or gentleman, incline -your head with a graceful dignity, and scrape backward with your left -foot. Whenever you are asked to sit down in company, place one leg -over the other; rest your elbow on the elevated knee, repose your -chin on the hand of the same arm, with two fingers extended upright -between your cheek and your ear. In an attitude at once so easy and -so graceful, await the wisdom which is sure to fall from beauty, -learning, and experience, and hoard up the precious results for the -future occasions of life, as the busy bee hoards up the honey of -spring for the winter of age.” - -A company of boys educated by Crusoe, or on Crusoe’s plan, seated -round a room in his most approved attitude, must have been a pleasing -sight! - -Crusoe is the oracle of the “Grey Goose,” the public-house opposite; -for he has a number of theories which he there defends against all -comers, and very few comers, it may be supposed, ever go away having -won any sort of advantage over the erudite Howell Crusoe. - -Howell has distinguished himself in his determined onslaughts on -bull-baiting, dog-fighting, badger-baiting, cock-fighting, and -the like; and has been supported in these eventually successful -achievements by Jasper Heritage, David Qualm, and Sylvanus Crook, -persons as yet unknown to the reader, but to whom I most probably -shall, by permission, very soon introduce them. Howell does not -find, however, that he can altogether dispense with boy-baiting, -or beating with his cane. He manages to frighten the young ones, -nevertheless, by threatening to “look over their heads to the wall,” -which has something awful in it to their imaginations; and he thinks, -in time, cudgels may be used to drive beasts with, and boys be -ruled by appealing to what Sylvanus Crook calls their “inner man.” -Howell Crusoe is also secretary of both men and women’s clubs, and -is much disgusted with the drunkenness displayed by these members at -Whitsuntide; finds, indeed, he has a rude and uncouth generation to -deal with, and makes but little progress in refining them. In a word, -Howell Crusoe is an out-and-out social reformer. - -Not far from the village on the Rockville-road, you see a large pair -of gates, a capacious lodge with flowering plants in the windows, -and under one of them a little wooden trough, very much resembling a -pig-trough. It is, in fact, a trough which Sylvanus Crook, the good -Quaker, who lives at this gentleman’s lodge, has set there for the -refreshment of dogs, having often seen them passing with lolling -tongues, and eyes anxiously cast about for water. Sylvanus soon -had his first trough stolen, but this he has secured by stout iron -fastenings to the wall, and he trusts that he relieves much canine -discomfort. He says, indeed, that he has never had the pleasure of -seeing a dog drink at it; neither has Dorothy, his wife; but he hopes -they do. At least they have the opportunity. - -But this lodge is but the entrance to the extensive grounds and house -of Jasper Heritage, the wealthy Quaker banker of Castleborough. -Enter; advance up the well-kept carriage-drive, and very soon you -will see standing on an open, level, extensive lawn, a very large -square brick house. It is one of the country houses so frequently -seen, which are built at no expense of architecture whatever. It -is as simple and as exactly square as any box or square block of -stone that you can see anywhere. Take a good, big deal box, chalk -on it a door in the centre, and two or three rows of windows, and a -parapet-wall at the top, showing no roof, and then you have the exact -representation of some hundreds, or, indeed, thousands of houses -which raise themselves as proudly on the soil of England, as if they -boasted all the architectural graces ever displayed. And truly they -are houses capable of lodging and entertaining a great number of -people in the perfection of comfort. They are ample, convenient, and -opulent abodes of opulent families, though they look so cubical and -featureless outside. This house of Mr. Jasper Heritage, is, moreover, -made somewhat attractive by such ornaments as the very simple taste -of its owner could, or perhaps would, give it. It has an ample -portico on plain Tuscan pillars; a broad flight of easy stone steps -up to it; a very highly-burnished brass-knocker and bell-handle; -and in a row under the windows, a range of splendid orange-trees -in large square tubs, and a fountain in the centre of the lawn, -which plays on particular occasions. Right and left you see broad, -exquisitely rolled gravel walks going off into very tempting-looking -shrubberies and gardens. Ah! it will be a great treat to penetrate -in there, and see all the lawns and alleys, and gardens, ponds, and -conservatories, and snug summer-houses in corners, which give you -from a second storey a prospect over the country round. But we must -come again some day for that. We shall get an invitation. Now it is -enough to say, that in that house is not Jasper Heritage; he is just -now at his bank in Castleborough, whither his coachman, Sylvanus -Crook, also a Friend, and dressed in the plainest drab, with the -most approved cocked-hat and knee-breeches of that society, and that -day, has driven him, and will fetch him back, at four o’clock, in -the handsome, roomy dark-green family carriage, without, I may add, -the slightest vanity of coat-of-arms, crest, or any such badge of a -worldly pride. At home, are—but not to be intruded upon by us at this -moment, for they are busy cutting out a very multitude of clothes -for the Dorcas Society—yes, there are Rebecca Heritage, the wealthy -banker’s wife, and Millicent Heritage, the fair and only child of -this wealthy banker—only think of that! What! you say, is the young -lady handsome? Oh, don’t be so curious! Wait a bit. I will tell you -about the mother first. Mrs. Rebecca Heritage is a lady of apparently -forty-five. She is not very tall, she is not very short, she is not -very thin, nor very stout; but she is fair, very fair, yet with dark -hair neatly laid back from the centre of the forehead under a very -white and very plain Quaker cap. A silk gown she wears—pale very -dovelike silk; a white muslin handkerchief covers her shoulders and -bosom, and she has extremely well-cut features. Her nose is perfect. -Her eyes blue-grey, large, and thoughtful. Her forehead is broad and -ample, and, in a word, she looks like a grave and comely duchess -dressed up for a female Friend in a domestic theatrical. In that -noble face—in that smooth, soft, yet healthy face—where no approach -to a wrinkle, one thinks, would ever dare to come—there is a thought, -a spirit, a fire—yes, a fire—even in the calm that rules all in -that tranquil aspect. Depend upon it, Rebecca Heritage is no common -woman. She is like one of those women Friends, who used to enter -Whitehall, and tell the king-destroyer Cromwell or the laughing, -reckless Charles II., in tones that made them still as children, of -the oppression of the saints which they were perpetrating; of the -foul and hideous dungeons in which they were holding those whose -only crime was a religion of peace. There! if you want the picture -of a mother in Israel—of a brave, self-possessed, yet loving and -large-hearted woman—send for a painter, and let him pourtray Rebecca -Heritage. - -But I see you glancing aside from this figure of heroic piety and -peace to that gentle creature at her side. Lovely, modest, retiring -Millicent. So rich, and yet nature has heaped all those other riches -upon her. Look at that very fair face, at those clear blue eyes, -and yet shaded by such long dark eye-lashes, such finely-arched -jetty eye-brows and hair. Why it is not an English, but a genuine -Eastern beauty. That form and face were evidently made for an Asiatic -palace, and they are here, in a Quaker house, and busy in cutting -out jackets and petticoats for the squalid brats of the next town. -Come away! It is too dangerous here. I must show you Still Lodge, it -is just outside the grounds here. There! You see it—a genuine little -wrens nest: and in it dwells David Qualm, the brother-in-law of -Jasper Heritage, and Dorothy Qualm, his wife. Oh, most peaceable and -peace-loving people! You will come again,—don’t linger. Remember when -you inquire for the house of Jasper Heritage, it is called Fair-Manor. - -One more introduction, and then enough for the present. We must now -turn back, pass through the villages of Rockville and Woodburn, -give a nod to pleasant Woodburn Grange as we pass, and so on a mile -farther, skirting the feet of the sand-cliffs, till we stand on a -fine mount with a modern-looking mansion, also of brick; they all -are so round about here. This mansion is the seat of Sir Emanuel -Clavering, a baronet of an old family. Finely stands the house with -its large bay windows looking out on its velvet lawn, from the soft, -smooth turf of which spring stately elms and ashes, with that luxury -of neatness which only aristocratic trees can wear. Finely sweep the -swelling slopes of the hill down to the river, which there takes a -superb bend, and across it the eye runs on to distant towers, and -masses of woods, and clumps of pine-clad hills high and dark. Near -the house stands the picturesque parsonage, half covered with ivy, -and here and there a cottage, and that is Cotmanhaye—there is no -village. Opposite to the house southward, or south-west, rises a -still higher range of hills, and on climbing that, you behold another -landscape, vast and varied, villages, farms, and woods. - -Sir Emanuel Clavering is a tall gentlemanly man of sixty. All who -know him declare him a man of very pleasant manners, extremely well -read; fond of poetry, but of the Pope school, which he declares to -be the only polished and correct one; and given to astronomical, and -it is said abstruse studies. There is a small tower at some distance -on the ridge of the hill, which he uses as an observatory. In his -youth he was away, no one knows where, for a space of seven years. -Those who have seen him often and inspected him closely, assert -that the gristle of his nose is bored, as savages bore theirs to -insert a feather or a flower. Hence, there is a popular story—an -imagination, for Sir Emanuel has never been known to utter a word to -his most intimate friends, either of this curious fact, or of the -sojourn of those years. The country people talk fluently by their -firesides of Sir Emanuel in his wild youth as the head of some wild -race, the lord of some dark-eyed, dark-skinned princess. They have -romanced out a grand story of his leading the devoted natives to -battle, with all the terrors of European arms, and winning great -victories and domains for them. They account for his return by the -death of his princess, a creature of wondrous beauty, and by the -natural longings for one’s native land. Not a syllable of this story -has a basis of ascertained fact, not the ground of a single allusion -the most distant; all those years are a blank to every one but Sir -Emanuel himself. Nothing more is known than that he returned to find -his father dead, and his younger brother, the rector, holding the -estate for him. He had neither brother nor sister besides Thomas the -rector. In a few years, during which he was about a great deal in -London, and from which gentlemen of his own tastes sometimes came -down and shut themselves up for days with him in his tower, and were -seen riding about with him, Sir Emanuel married. Not, however, one -of the daughters of any of the neighbouring aristocratic families, -but the daughter of the bailiff of his estate. His wife had still -fewer relatives than himself, she had no brother or sister. She was -a naturally fine woman, and bore her elevation with modesty and good -sense. The habits of Sir Emanuel became more secluded than before. -The neighbouring families rarely called on him. His life was chiefly -spent in prosecuting the studies of his tower, in field sports, in -fishing, and in occasional visits to the metropolis. - -Such a character was sure to become the object of the most -extraordinary rumours in the country round. His astronomical studies, -his frequent walks at midnight to his solitary tower, followed by -two large black dogs, his being seen by the keepers sometimes -wrapped in his cloak, silently pacing along that bleak and elevated -ridge in darkness and in the wildest tempests, was enough to add in -the popular mind, to his astronomy, other and darker studies. The -peasantry universally believed that he dealt in the black art; they -asserted that he had been seen at the same hour in two different -places thirty miles apart; they said that there was nothing lost -anywhere in the neighbourhood but he would say, immediately on -hearing of it, where it was, or who had got it; and that he was -always right. He always told the farmers what sort of a summer or -winter it would be, which was certain to take place; and he had -been known on hearing of a wedding, whether in high or low life, to -shake his head and say that would not be lucky, and it never was. -All these things he probably pronounced from the simple sources of -natural sagacity and extended knowledge, perfectly legitimate in its -character; but the people far around took another and more mysterious -view of it. They observed that though his brother was the clergyman, -and the living belonging to the family, he rarely appeared at church; -and the peasantry when they saw him felt a secret terror, though -he always accosted them most kindly; was always cheerful, and even -jocose, and never heard of a case of distress which he did not send -to relieve. - -Sir Emanuel, contrary to his wont, called on the Degges, and they -returned his call, curious to make the acquaintance of a man of so -peculiar a reputation. They were greatly struck with the polished -friendliness of his manner, his frank cordiality, and his superior -intelligence. He assured them that he had great pleasure in the -prospect of cultivating their friendship. Lady Clavering had been -deceased some years; he had but one son, Henry Clavering, who had -been the school-fellow of George Woodburn, at Repton, and who was on -terms of great friendship with all the family at Woodburn Grange. - -And thus I have presented a few of the leading _dramatis personæ_; -others are waiting in the side-scenes ready to make their appearance. - - - - - CHAPTER V. - - BETTY TRAPPS COMES TO NOTICE. - - -The life of Rockville, Woodburn, and their vicinities presented -little to chronicle for some time. Simon Degge was angrily commented -upon by the neighbouring squirearchy, for having thrown open the -game on his estate to the farmers. “This is the way,” they said at -their mutual dinners, “with these plebeians. Having no taste for -gentlemanly sport themselves, they would like to see it annihilated, -and the landed proprietors reduced for amusement to flocking to -Castleborough, and winding cotton-balls, or manufacturing stockings.” -This idea was very much applauded, and made the ladies of the county -very merry. “We must all go to help the gentlemen,” they said, -“and seam hose, and help to ‘take in.’” Mr. Markham, the rector of -Rockville, though agreeing with his landed friends in the main idea, -said he was bound to say that Mr. Degge was rather a keen sportsman, -and a prodigious good shot. He had seen him drop his birds right and -left in a most masterly way; where he had picked up the skill rather -puzzled him. Certainly, it could not come by nature, as Dogberry -thought reading and writing did; but it must be admitted that he was -a prodigiously clever man. And, in fact, unless he had been, how -could he have got on so? - -“How do good-looking fellows manage to marry rich heiresses?” asked -Sir Benjamin Bullockshed. - -“Ah, well; but that was not altogether the way that Mr. Degge had -mounted into such fortune. No, no; it was too well known that he had -got rich before he got the rich wife. _He_ was not going to be the -panegyrist of Degge; he did not approve of letting either farmers or -hosiers loose on the game. By no means; and, besides, Degge had no -taste at all for coursing, nor for hunting.” - -“How should he?” asked Sir Thomas Tenterhook. “Probably, in his -younger days he might manage to leap over a counter, but I should -like to see him take a good hawthorn fence with a ditch on the other -side, or a five-barred gate.” - -“But he could do it; nay, I have seen him do it,” said Mr. Markham, -“in riding over his farm one day; and if he had hunted all his life, -he could not have shown himself more at home in the saddle.” - -“Gad! Markham,” said Sir Thomas, “but Degge has turned your head -marvellously in a very little time. Why, you are a regular trumpeter -for him. By your account he is possessed of all the graces and -endowments of a specimen man.” - -“Oh! don’t you believe it, Sir Thomas. It is nonsense,” replied Mr. -Markham; “it is useless to deny what is plain to everybody; but I -join you in all you say of Degge’s vulgar impudence in presuming to -snatch a property, as it were, out of the hands of such a gentleman -as Sir Benjamin Bullockshed, and in letting loose half the hosiers of -Castleborough on Sir Benjamin’s game.” - -“On Sir Benjamin’s game!” said Sir Roger Rockville; “on all our game. -He has encouraged the poachers to an audacity never known before. -They all say, ‘There, Mr. Degge has shown his sense. He knows that -game is everybody’s.’ Our keepers have now no rest day nor night. The -fields, the woods, the copses swarm with poachers. After them, and -they are over the hedges into Degge’s land, and touch ’em there who -dare. Sooner than we should convict them, he would give every man of -them a keeper’s licence. That arch scamp, Joe Scammell, I am told, -sends cart-loads of hares and pheasants to Castleborough every week. -Can no one lay hold of that fellow? His offences are now so many, he -might be transported.” - -“But what matters half-a-dozen Scammells being sent out of the -country,” said Sir Thomas Tenterhook, “when every labourer or artizan -is encouraged by the example of Degge, who is only a poacher on a -larger scale? They preach that all must live. Now let me tell you -something. Close to my estate, and by the high road to Castleborough, -there lives a shoemaker, in a village, who was had up and fined for -shooting a hare in his garden last winter but one. That fellow the -very next season took out a licence, for the right of a shot over his -own garden, and he could not be turned out of it. So Degge made him -one of his keepers, and thus qualified him; and all this last autumn -and winter, he has sat at his window and shot my hares and pheasants. -Not content with daylight, he has kept this fine game by moonlight. -Gad! the fellow is making a little fortune out of it.” - -There was a universal murmur of indignation at such an instance of -unheard-of audacity. - -“Yes,” said Sir Benjamin Bullockshed, “that is precisely the case in -point. My game is drained off by constantly getting into some one -of Degge’s fields, and being killed by one of his stocking-weaver -acquaintances. I say, Mr. Markham, spite of your praises of Simon -Degge, the man is a nuisance, a sheer, intolerable unmitigated -nuisance.” - -“Hear! hear!” resounded round the dinner-table, in which Mr. Markham, -rather alarmed for his reputation, joined; and the ladies rose, to -retire to the drawing-room, expressing their hearty approbation. - -Simon Degge, meantime, did not trouble himself about these wrathful -comments upon him in the neighbouring great houses. He had the -pleasure of hearing all throughout Hillmartin, that the people there -were highly pleased with the check he had given to Sir Benjamin -Bullockshed, whose injustice to the farmers of this farm had been a -subject of indignant comment for years. As his crops grew, he fenced -off what he wanted to secure from the game, with a wire fencing, -which he found perfectly effectual, leaving a considerable strip -along the woodsides to the depredations of these creatures. When the -harvest was got, he removed his wire-fence, and allowed the game -to wander anywhere, and all autumn and winter he found an abundant -supply for himself and friends, who had thus a great inducement to -come out from Castleborough for a good day’s shooting every now -and then. This was not less irritating to the Bullocksheds and -Rockvilles, than it was delightful to the people and farmers all -round, who not daring to open their mouths, yet saw with evident -satisfaction this poetical justice executed on men who had never -shown the least sense of justice in their own conduct whenever game -was concerned. - -The objects of social improvement which interested Mr. and Mrs. Degge -in Castleborough, were introduced by them into the little arena of -Hillmartin. The condition of the poor was looked into, and their -distresses relieved. Their children were afforded a good school, and -many a comfort flowed unostentatiously into the homes of the aged or -the sick that was never known before. - -Thus a new link was established between town and country, which, -though it did not extend to the Bullocksheds and Rockvilles, did -extend to the Woodburns, the Claverings, and some other county -families. By the intercourse of the Degges, the Woodburns, the -Heritages, and the Claverings, Sir Emanuel and his brother Thomas, -the rector of Cotmanhaye, his wife and son, a very charming little -circle was formed, in which English country life presented its most -genial aspect. After a few formal visits and dinings, Mr. and Mrs. -Degge began by degrees, one or other of them, or both together, to -drop in at Woodburn Grange unceremoniously, and the Woodburns at -Hillmartin. Simon Degge was glad to have something regarding his -farm or country concerns to ask Mr. Woodburn about, and to take a -ride with Leonard Woodburn when he went to superintend his own farm. -Sometimes they extended their ride to Cotmanhaye Manor, and had a -chat with Sir Emanuel, or, if he were absent, with the rector, who -was a zealous farmer himself, and rented a large farm of his brother, -on which his only son, Charles, resided, a couple of miles off. -They always found Sir Emanuel extremely affable and even jocosely -kind, and always familiar with all the topics of the day, whether -political or concerning the affairs of the country round. His peeps -into the worlds of the heavens did not seem to render him in the -least indifferent to or unobservant of what passed in this. He never -obtruded the display of his extensive knowledge of foreign countries, -or of men and things in the great world of London and the nation at -large, but these were frequently showing themselves in incidental -remarks on the topics under discussion. Frequently he ordered his -horse and accompanied them in their ride, and during the winter he -invited them to join him in snipe and woodcock shooting, these birds -abounding in some swampy places on his property, as did wild geese -and ducks about the reedy back-waterings of the river. On these -occasions he not only showed himself a dead shot, but careless of -weather and capable of enduring amazing exertion. - -The festivities of the winter brought these families much together. -Woodburn Grange presented all the genial and gay abundance of -fare—fat turkeys and geese, mince-pies, pork-pies, possets, and a -world of light delicacies, blazing fires, and country sports and -dances, even blind-man’s-buff, turn-trencher, and other romps, which -had been preserved at the Grange from father to son as essential -customs of country-life. These had a novelty, and, therefore, a -greater charm for the young people from the town, than the more -ordinary dinner-parties and dances of the great halls. Even Sir -Emanuel Clavering became a laughing boy again at the rural revels of -the Grange, and vied with the lightsome, butterfly gaiety of Letty, -amid these domestic saturnalia. Sir Emanuel even opened his house to -several gay parties, and embellished his handsome suite of rooms with -a display of arms of richest and quaintest workmanship, caskets of -ivory of most delicate carvings, and others inlaid with jewels and -gold, with silken draperies of richest colours and strange devices, -and china jars and vessels, some of stupendous size, and most superb -forms, and painted enamelings. He himself moved everywhere amongst -his guests, as affable, kind, gracefully courteous and cordial, -as if he, too, never studied anything but to enjoy his fortune -and position as a finished gentleman. Except his brother and his -brother’s wife, he was now alone in his house, for his son was and -had been some time abroad. All were charmed with Sir Emanuel, and -wondered that he had spent so secluded a life in the country. Perhaps -the cause was not far to seek, when it was recollected that Sir Roger -Rockville, the Bullocksheds, and Tenterhooks had been his chief -neighbours. - -As the winter passed, and the spring days grew in warmth and -pleasantness, the intercourse of these families grew too. Mr. and -Mrs. Degge would call and join the young people of the Grange in -their walks or rides, and Mrs. Degge would drop in and have a -pleasant chat with Mrs. Woodburn, Ann, and Letty, as they went on -with their different concerns. The great concern of Letty, indeed, -seeming to be to laugh and chatter, as if there were no such things -as care or matter-of-fact duty in the world. She had to show Mrs. -Degge the herds of young ducks and chickens, the birds’ nests in -curious places in the garden, the dogs, and the rabbits kept in the -hutches, as if she had been an actual boy, and to the evident delight -of their visitor, while a flood of intervening small-talk produced -bursts of merry laughter, which, reaching the house, made the graver -mother exclaim, “What _can_ that girl be about?” - -A great variety in this little circle was furnished by the Friends’ -family of the Heritages. It was not the custom of these worthy -Friends to give festive parties, nor did they frequent those of their -neighbours, if there was to be much worldly amusement, especially -of dancing, cards, or the like. They preferred to make familiar -calls during the day, on which occasions they were always extremely -friendly, and as pleasantly cheerful as any people in the world, -but always with a certain substratum of gravity and soberness. -These visits were generally made by Mrs. Heritage and her daughter -Millicent. The mother was sure to ask about what she saw going on in -farming household affairs. In winter she was very much interested -in Betty Trapps’s spinning-wheel, which, when she had nothing else -very pressing, was sure to be humming away in the warm, clean -house-place, as it was called, a sort of intermediate room between -the kitchen and the parlour, where the farm-men and the servants took -their meals, and where Mr. Woodburn furnished them with suitable -books for their evening’s reading in winter, but where the men -generally stretched their legs before the blazing fire, and dropped -asleep, and then stole off to bed. Betty Trapps greatly amused the -Heritage ladies, mother and daughter, with her country shrewdness and -plain-spokenness. - -“Dost thou manage to get good tow?” asked Mrs. Heritage, one day. - -“Oh, yes,” Betty said, “as good as I expect.” - -“Dost thou not expect it to be good, then?” asked Mrs. Heritage. - -“Yes, _I_ expect it,” said Betty, “because I look pretty sharp after -it. They wunna readily find a norp[1] in me.” - -“Surely,” said Mrs. Heritage, “there cannot be much cheating in tow?” - -“There are tricks in all trades,” said Betty, dryly, “and there are -tricks in tow. I get mine from Widow Pechell, in Hillmartin, and as -I scrutinised it pretty closely when I first went to her shop, says -Mrs. Pechell, ‘Ay, thou may look, lass, but nobody is ever deceived -in _my_ tow, for they awlis expect a bit of bad in the middle, and -they are sure to find it there.’” - -“That was candid,” said Miss Millicent Heritage, laughing gently. - -“But didst thou find some bad in the middle?” asked Mrs. Heritage. - -“Yes, sure enough I did,” said Betty; “but I just took it out of the -rock, and laid it on the counter, and said, ‘Now, weigh it, missis,’ -and since then I never find any bad in the middle, because Mother -Pechell knows it’s just no use. She may try that on with norps.” - -“Well,” said Mrs. Heritage, rising, “when I want to buy tow, Betty, I -will get thee to do it for me.” - -Betty turned her wheel more briskly at this compliment to her -sagacity, and added, “You might do worse, Mrs. Heritage; and yet I -think Sukey Priddo can help you in such bargains quite as well.” -Sukey Priddo was Mrs. Heritage’s housekeeper, and a sister Methodist -of Betty’s. - -“Oh! Sukey Priddo is a good, careful, managing soul,” said Mrs. -Heritage, turning round and smiling as she went out; “but not half so -sharp as thee, I think. Farewell, Betty.” - -The Heritages, though they rarely gave parties, were always glad -to see any of their friends at tea at five o’clock, and after -that, in summer, to a walk in the grounds, and supper at eight, -soon after which they liked their friends to depart, as they had -family reading at nine, and all the house in bed at ten. It was a -hospitable, abundant house. No good things of life were ever wanting -there, for though the Friends have always been a temperate people, -and have had a horror of drunkenness as actually degrading, they -have always maintained luxurious tables—a luxury wedded to moderate -indulgence—and have, combined with their avoidance of agitative -passions, the great and healthy longevity they display. - -At the simple but plenteous board of Fair Manor, our friends of -Woodburn and even of Cotmanhaye—for Sir Emanuel had gradually been -drawn out to occasional visits as far as there, and seemed as if he -could not sufficiently admire the grave wisdom of Mr. Heritage, and -the oriental beauty of the fair Millicent—have met quite another -class and circle of persons. These were inhabitants of Castleborough, -chiefly Friends, and their habits of thought, speech, and opinion, -were a curious study to the more general denizens of the every-day -world. There was a tone of what might be called practical and moral -economy about them. Their plain dresses and simple manners were -accompanied by a mode of looking at everything so different from that -of the world—even the religious world in general—as made it rather -a piquant study to those not intimate with them. Having abandoned -all the usual amusements of society, as vain, frivolous, and often -very immoral, and, therefore, unbecoming true Christians,—hunting, -racing, theatres, balls, concerts, cards, and other games of hazard, -or of skill employed for gain,—even abstaining from music, singing, -or other things which might lead to lightness and dissipation, -they were thrown greatly upon trade for a resource against _ennui_ -almost as much as for profit. In the domestic life, books of the -most moral and grave kind, and the discussion of the great topics of -philanthropy, of opposition to war, slavery, and political religions, -and plans for prison discipline, and the relief of distress, and the -spread of education amongst the people: these were their favourite -topics; but of these their conversation was of the simplest kind. -There was often a childlike character about it. In all great moral -points they were simple, direct, substantial, and without grace or -ornament,—grand. Brave and able must have been the man who could -compete with them on any of these heads, for they were on the rock -of eternal truth, and no human force could push them from it. -Outside of this they could find amusement in the most simple of -simplicities. You might see them at the tea-table at Fair Manor amuse -themselves—that is, the young people, the elder ones looking on—with -endeavouring to lift, by a close application of fingers and thumb to -their smooth backs, the small dessert or tea-table plates which they -used; or riddles and sober conundrums, could maintain a very innocent -mirth for a whole evening. - -There were, however, a number of curious, and one or two remarkable -characters amongst the kind visitors from Castleborough, whom we -shall occasionally meet there. Not the least striking figures in -these parties, however, were David and Dorothy Qualm, and Sylvanus -Crook. These were part and parcel, as it were, of the Fair Manor -circle. David Qualm, as I have said, was the brother-in-law of -Joseph Heritage, Dorothy Qualm being Jasper’s sister. This worthy -couple lived, as we have said, at Still Lodge, just outside the -grounds of Fair Manor. Still Lodge!—a most appropriate name. The -very element of David and Dorothy Qualm was silence. So far as could -be observed, they managed to understand and communicate with each -other at the least expense of words conceivable. Their movements -were as quiet as their words. What they did, said, thought of, what -was their specialty, no one had ever been able to discover. And yet -their specialty was huge, prominent, unavoidable—it was quietude. No -passion, except it were a passion for peaceful inertia, marked, much -less disturbed, their days. Their house was small and modest, but -always exquisitely neat. It seemed a sin to tread on those bright, -nice, unfaded, unworn carpets. On the mat at the entrance-door you -read the large-lettered admonition, “Please, wipe thy shoes.” The -garden was always neatness itself—staid and tempered in the very -colours of its flowers. Dorothy Qualm had once been seen ordering the -gardener to dig up and throw out some gorgeously red peonies, as too -un-Friendly and gaudy in hue. David Qualm never was seen to garden, -to engage in anything active, or visible even, except in tranquilly -smoking his pipe, and in riding out on a small, stout Welsh pony, -called Taffy, by the side of his tall, portly brother-in-law, Jasper -Heritage, who rode, as befitted him, a large black horse. The high -and substantial apparition of Jasper Heritage, and the little figure -of pony and rider inevitably at his side, were familiar objects -around Woodburn. Their striking difference in bulk and stature had -inspired some wag to name them David and Goliath. Once Sylvanus -Crook was greatly scandalised by finding chalked on the wall of -the entrance-lodge where he lived, as he went out early one summer -morning,— - - David was a little man, - Goliath he was tall, - And you may see them any day - At Fair Manor Hall. - -Sylvanus hurried in for a sponge and bucket of water, and perhaps -never showed more adroitness in his life than in wiping out the -offensive rhyme before his wife could get a glimpse of it. But many -an earlier riser than Sylvanus had already read it, and it had -entered into the oral curiosities of Woodburn, and even travelled to -Castleborough. - -In company David Qualm preserved the same solid reticence, the same -inexhaustible capacity for silence as in his own domicile. At home, -his pipe was his constant companion even more inseparable than his -equally quiescent wife. What was he? He was the companion of Jasper -Heritage, and that was all, so far as the most inquisitive mortal -ever knew. Did he and brother Jasper ever converse at home, or in -their rides? No one lives to tell us. Probably, in their own phrase, -they were brought into nearness with each other, as Oliver the -Protector said to George Fox at Whitehall, “Come again, George, come -often; for if thou and I were oftener together, we should be nearer -to each other.” David Qualm, in his brown Quaker suit, with his brown -wig and his cocked hat, with the ample brim suspended by silk cords -in the most orthodox style of that day of Quakerism, was a figure to -be carved in stone, for no stone could surpass him in the abundance -and perpetuity of silence. - -Sylvanus Crook, the lodge inhabiter—his wife was the -gate-keeper—Sylvanus, the overlooker of the grounds and gardeners, -the house-steward, the purveyor of all necessaries, and bearer of -all important messages—in a word, the factotum of Fair Manor—was a -middle-sized man of forty, of light build, and clad in light drab, -with short knee-breeches and grey ribbed stockings. His hat, too, -was three-cocked, but had a less precise and more weather-beaten -air than that of David Qualm, but was generally believed to be -David’s, which in due course had descended on Sylvanus. In mind, -in manner, in all else, Sylvanus, however, was the antithesis of -David. Sylvanus had talk enough and busy mind enough for anybody. -He read—having the run of Mr. Heritage’s library, but foraged most -amongst Friends’ books: the histories of their trials, persecutions, -and the expositions of their opinions. Sylvanus was a sturdy champion -of Quaker principles and customs, and skilful must the polemical -acrobat be who ventured a wrestle with him on that familiar and -sacred ground. Many a combat had Sylvanus and Betty Trapps on the -comparative merits of Quakerism and Methodism, and on sundry topics -besides. Betty often turned the laugh against Sylvanus, but he was -like a true Englishman, as described by Napoleon—he never knew when -he was beaten. Sylvanus was the indispensable man at Fair Manor, and -was one of those who, though servants, are acknowledged as brothers, -and was admitted frequently to the society which frequented that -great resort of Castleborough Friends. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[1] An ape; used now by the country people for a simpleton. - - - - - CHAPTER VI. - - THORSBY AMONGST THE WOODBURNS. - - -Amongst the Castleborough gentlemen who were on terms of intimacy -with the family of Simon Degge, and who, therefore, frequently was -to be met at Hillmartin, was a Mr. Henry Thorsby. This Mr. Thorsby -was a young man of one of the oldest and most leading families of -Castleborough. He was a manufacturing hosier; hosiery being one -of the two great staples of the town—the other being lace. These -hosiers employed a great number of frame-work-knitters in both town -and country. These people, in fact, handloom-weavers, worked in the -stocking-frame, receiving the cotton from the hosier, and bringing -in to the town-warehouse their woven stockings at so much per dozen -every Saturday. A first-rate house, therefore, employed some -hundreds of men or women, as it might he, for both men and women are -stocking-weavers, or, as they are termed, stockingers. - -Mr. Henry, or as he was more commonly called, Harry Thorsby, was the -son of a great hosier, who had led a very free and _bon vivant_ life; -had been a fearful sufferer from the gout; and had died recently -from an attack of it which had been driven to the stomach. He had -left only his widow and this one son, who was regarded as one of the -most substantial burghers of the place. He had large warehouses, a -large and handsome house, in which his mother presided, and to whom -he was the apple of her eye. In her eyes her son Harry was one in a -thousand; never was such a handsome, good-hearted fellow; he was, she -said, as good as twenty daughters to her, and always had been. - -In fact, Harry Thorsby was a very good-looking and pleasant young -man. He was something above the middle height, rather broadly built, -but extremely active. He had a handsome, somewhat large face, of what -is called the oval contour, well-defined features, a bushy head of -black hair, a rather dark complexion, and well-shaped black whiskers. -Thorsby, like his father, had a very sociable and rather jovial -turn—that was the rock in his path. His mother, indeed, had often -with tears shown him that danger, and implored him to take warning -by his father’s example, who had shortened his life by indulgence -in wine, and what he called good company; and who might have -possessed double the wealth, and the first place in the town,—yes, -not even second to Mr. Simon Degge,—had he avoided the snare of good -fellowship. Harry would not hurt his mother’s feelings for the world, -and he always said,—“Oh, mother, you need not have any anxiety on -my account. I am not by any means fond of wine, though I do like a -little pleasant company; but I shall not forget what I have seen, and -I shall not forget you, mother.” - -Harry Thorsby was fond of his horse, and followed the hunt. He -might often be seen during the season, in his scarlet coat riding -out of town on a fine morning to the meet of the day, looking very -gallant and happy; and grave fellow-manufacturers as they passed to -their warehouses, while they nodded and smiled in passing, said to -themselves,—“Thorsby will be Thorsby; what is bred in the bone will -never be out of the flesh. Harry, like his father, finds something -pleasanter than his counting-house.” - -But, exclusive of this taste for hunting, and for shooting, which was -equally a passion of his, Harry Thorsby was a good tradesman, and a -steady attendant on his counting-house and warehouse and business -altogether. Business over, however, he was much in the company of -the young men of position in the town. He was an extremely merry, -amusing fellow in company; told an anecdote well, and sung fairly. -His nature seemed to demand life and variety. He was extremely -excitable, but not to anger,—for he was extremely forbearing under -provocation; his tendency was to pleasure, fun—what is termed -larking—and to all the jollity of youth. - -One of these larks he often was very merry over amongst his intimate -friends. He and his mother often breakfasted at a small round table, -and the breakfast was brought in on a circular-turned mahogany tray, -which had grown rather rotund at the bottom so that it would easily -turn round on the table. His mother being very fond of a gossip, and -having always a great deal to tell him in his _tête-à-tête_, had -scarcely began her coffee when Harry had despatched his first cup; -unperceived, therefore, he would gently turn the tray round, finish -her cup too, and then remind her that both were empty. This process -went on to the end of Harry’s three cups, when he would spring up and -say he must be off to business. “I hope you’ve made a good breakfast, -Harry,” his mother would say, rising at the same time; “as for me, I -don’t know how it is, but I feel neither fuller nor fatter.” - -Harry went laughing slily to himself away, saying, “Well, mother, you -have been amusing me with your talk so much, you don’t know whether -you have breakfasted or not. Get some more. You’re never wrong if you -eat till you are satisfied.” And the old lady would say, “Well, my -lad, I think I must, for I feel quite sinking.” And he would leave -her wondering how it was, but pouring comfortably out another cup. - -Another manœuvre was not quite so innocent. Being sent, as a boy, -on his father’s Arab mare, on a disagreeable journey, he dismounted -outside of the town, daubed the poor mare’s face and knees with mud, -and led her back home, saying that she had fallen and thrown him, and -hurt him so much, that he could not go. His clothes being smeared -plentifully, too, added to the probability of the story. But if Harry -had any feeling, he was severely punished for his ruse, for his -father, in a great rage, took the riding-whip and gave the innocent -mare, who never made a false step in her life, a most unmerciful -beating, and soon after sold her. This fact had reached Betty Trapps -through Sylvanus Crook, and she prognosticated something awful of so -cruelly artful a lad. Cruelty, however, was far from one of Harry -Thorsby’s sins of manhood. He showed often very humane feeling. - -Thorsby was frequently at Hillmartin; and there was a belief that -he aspired to the hand of a rich Miss Mountain, of Castleborough. -However that might be, he soon had occasion to accompany Ann and -Letty home one evening, and from that day was as frequent and -familiar a visitor at the Grange. George Woodburn had seen something -of him at different times in Castleborough and in the hunting-field, -and there soon grew up a great friendship. They made appointments to -go to the hunt together. George invited him to come and shoot with -him; for, besides the game on Woodburn Farm, Sir Emanuel Clavering -had given George free range on his lands; and in a while Thorsby was -on the most familiar terms at the Grange. Everybody liked him. He was -so intelligent and so full of the spirit of good nature and of life -enjoyment. He often came and passed the night there, that he might -talk with Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, and sing a variety of popular airs -with Letty, which Ann accompanied on the piano. - -George Woodburn was a young man of very pleasing person, but -considered, by young men in general, peculiar. He had been educated -at Repton, the great Derbyshire grammar school, where he had made -the acquaintance of the sons of the principal nobles and gentry of -the county. Henry Clavering, the son of Sir Emanuel, their near -neighbour, had been one of his schoolfellows, and they had ever since -been great friends. They had enjoyed together all the pleasures and -sports of country life. Clavering was now away, and Thorsby was a -very acceptable companion for George. It was in the country and at -home, however, that this companionship was enjoyed, for George could -never be persuaded to join Thorsby’s social circles in town. George -had a steadfast dislike of towns and great companies. From a boy -there had been a certain gravity in his character, combined with -the utmost kindliness of disposition. He loved above everything the -country and country life. His heart and soul were in his profession -of agriculturist. In everything connected with farming and with the -objects of nature lay his whole happiness. He knew every creature, -great and small, that inhabited the fields; their haunts and habits -were as familiar to him as the doings in his own family. Every -species of insect was known to him, and might be said to be loved by -him. As a boy he could tell you not only of every bird that built in -the hedges, the orchard-trees, the cart-sheds, and the eaves, but -the mason-bees that built in the old garden-wall he could show you -passing in and out, and name them by names of his own, knowing every -one individually. - -He had from a mere lad accustomed himself to exposure to all kinds -of weather, hot or cold, to battle with the wildest snows in looking -after the sheep, to the most drenching rains, following the plough, -or carting out compost for the land. There was no kind of manual -labour on the farm in which he was not as expert as any labourer or -farm-servant of them all. No one could beat him in mowing, reaping, -ploughing, threshing, or in any kind of work. He could plash a -hedge, cut a ditch or a drain, or fell a tree with any of them. His -strength was prodigious, from constant exercise, and from absence -of any enfeebling indulgence, for he had an innate aversion to much -wine or beer, preferring what he called the mother and staple of all -drinks—the crystal daughter of the rock. - -In these respects George Woodburn was a most beneficial companion -for Harry Thorsby, for George’s unequivocal dislike of anything -dissipated, his equally unmistakeable enjoyment of the simplest -pleasures of the country, struck Thorsby with wonder; and when he -saw George’s real pleasure in the moderate number of friends that -he mixed with, and his enormous capacity for enduring exertion, he -wondered the more. In their shooting excursions he would have tired -down a horse, and never appeared to know what fatigue was in himself. - -“George,” said Thorsby, “how I do envy you your philosophical -contempt for the pleasures of gay society, for you seem to enjoy what -you do like with such a genuine gusto.” - -“But it is no merit, my dear fellow,” George would reply; “for all -those things that you call jollities and gaieties are my aversion. -To spring out of bed on a summer’s morning, and see the sun shining -over the beauteous landscape, steaming and smoking in the ascending -dew; to hear the cuckoo calling me in her quaint foreign tongue, -the thrushes and blackbirds shouting out their delight, some scores -of them, as if they had not hearts big enough for their joy; to -hear all the varied sounds of life, from the larks in the sky, from -the creatures in the yard; to see the cattle and the flocks all -luxuriating in the green or golden fields; to hear human voices -making up the concert of nature, and, above all, the merry tongue -of Letty, and the grave, loving tones of Ann, already out in the -garden; to mount my horse, and ride away through fields and woods -amid all the gladness of heaven and earth; to feel the fulness of -life beating in my veins and gushing through my heart—Ah! what are -all your simpering fine people, and your candle-light companies to -me! Thorsby, I see men solitarily passing their lives in the lonely -fields, or felling and fagoting in the lonely woods, whose very -existence will never be known beyond their own hamlet; and do you -think they are miserable? I tell you, no—so long as they can earn -a decent reward for their labour. I often talk with these men, the -Crusoes of the fields, of whom you fine people never think, or value -them more than the sheep which graze beside them, and I find that -God has breathed into them, frequently, in His silent language, of -the sun, the moon, and stars, of the whispering breezes of evening, -the colours of the sky, and the odours of turf and forest—things the -haunters of crowds and lamplit festivities never dream of. These -humble creatures, amid all their ignorance, in all their unvalued -life, go home at night to loving hearts, and taste a happiness in -communion with a few loved objects, which never can come to those -whose affections are dissipated by running over countless forms and -faces without settling on any. I would rather be one of these poor, -despised, unknown, uncared-for creatures than the finest, wealthiest -man or woman who lives the mere life of fashion and conventionalism. - -“Our philosophical poet Wordsworth has exactly hit my idea of the -philosophy of existence:— - - “‘Yet life, you say, is life; we have seen and see, - And with a living pleasure we describe; - And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe - The languid mind into activity. - Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and glee, - Are fostered by the comment and the gibe. - Even be it so: yet still among your tribe, - Our daily world’s true worldlings, rank not me. - - “Nor can I not believe but that hereby - Great gains are mine: for thus I live remote - From evil-speaking; rancour never sought, - Comes to me not; malignant truth, or lie. - Hence have I genial seasons; hence have I - Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous - thought.’” - -Had George Woodburn been an austere or moping sort of young man, -such conversations as these would not have surprised Harry Thorsby; -but when he saw, that in everything George Woodburn found a pleasure -as fresh as a mountain spring, that he was at home in the evening, -all fun and playfulness, with his sisters, listened with delight to -their music and singing, though he took no share in these things -himself; with what sound sense and early wisdom he entered into the -conversation with his parents and friends on any topic of domestic -or public concern, he was deeply struck by it, and entertained a -profound respect and esteem for so uncommon a specimen of modern -youth. - -There was one person, however, in the Woodburn Grange family, who -looked on the introduction of Harry Thorsby on so familiar a footing -as a real misfortune, and that was Betty Trapps. From the first -moment of his entering the house, she regarded him with a cold and -unwelcome eye. “Well,” said she, when asked whether she did not think -him a very pleasant man, “he is not one of my men. I say, if I must -speak my mind, dunna put much faith in him. Beware, I say, beware of -cockatrices.” - -“Oh, Betty!” exclaimed the stern Ann, “how can you be so -uncharitable? Mr. Thorsby is a most respectable gentleman, known to -be so to all Castleborough. Surely a friend of the Degges and of the -Heritages cannot be a very bad man.” - -“I did not say he was a bad man,” said Betty. “I only said he wasna -one of my sort.” - -“Why no,” said Letty, indignantly, “he is not a Methodist; but for -all that, it does not follow that he is a cockatrice. What do you -mean by cockatrices?” - -“Ah! Miss Letty, beware! beware!” said Betty, looking very serious. -“I say not to your young fluttering heart more, nor to any one else. -I see a great candle and a little, pretty, very pretty moth, a-flying -round it. If it burns its wings, then it won’t be the fault of Betty -Trapps.” - -Letty laughed outright. “Why, Betty, you are growing prophetic; but -what about the cockatrices? I have often heard of such nondescripts, -but I never saw one yet.” - -“I’m not so sure of that,” said Betty. “If you have not I wish you -never may. But as to this Thorsby, he crows when he laughs. He crows -and chuckles, and shakes those black locks of his. Oh! he is too full -of wild fire by half. See if it dunna run clean away with him one of -these days. - - “‘A crowing hen and crowing men, - Twist off their heads and sleep again.’” - -“Betty!” said Ann, “what do you mean with your superstitious rhymes? -Would you twist off Mr. Thorsby’s head?” - -“Oh no!” said Betty. “I would not twist off his head; I’d only turn -it hind before, that when he thought he was coming here he might -be going somewhere else. I would not trust him or his head. I only -mean that crowing hens and crowing men are out of natur. There’s no -sureness of ’em. Mark! I don’t say there’s any guillery in this young -man; but he’s no stop in him.” - -“Well,” said the young ladies, “we hope you and Mr. Thorsby will -become better friends as you get to know one another better. He -thinks very much of you, Betty.” - -Betty shook her head. “I’ve said my say,” she rejoined. “What must -be, must be. It’s none of my doings nor shapings. Pray God all come -out right.” - -Thorsby was always very affable and very pleasantly jocose with -Betty. Of course, he was not apprised of her unfavourable idea of -him; but he saw that she did not willingly converse with him, but -then he knew that she was reckoned an oddity, and he thought it -her way. As time went on Betty seemed to soften down a little. He -frequently offered her money when he had been staying there; but she -would never take it. “It is for the trouble I give it you, Betty,” -said Thorsby. - -“You give me no trouble,” answered Betty. “I have just the same to -cook and to do whether you are here or aren’t here. You can give it -to Thomasin”—the other maid. - -Thorsby found the very way to call Betty out was to give her a little -wipe about Methodism, when she was sure to take up cudgels, as she -called it, on that point; but this did not seem to raise Mr. Thorsby -in her favour. - -As time went on the intimacy of this little circle of families -increased. Sometimes Sir Emanuel rode up to the Grange, and after -chatting for an hour with the ladies, and walking with them round -their garden, noticing their trees and young broods of different -feathered stock, and telling them an anecdote of his foreign -sojourns, and then carrying off the ever-ready Letty for a ride, -and picking up, perhaps, Miss Heritage by the way, he would invite -a number of them, and their parents, brothers, and sisters, to come -up and spend an evening, and see the wonders of the heavens through -his great telescope in the tower. Advancing spring and summer drew -the young people out to rides and walks through the fields and woods, -and to boat sails on the river. Summer made all busy at the Grange: -the swarming of bees, the making of cheese and butter, the labourers -all engaged in weeding the green corn, and coming in in troops for -plentiful dinners and suppers, kept Betty Trapps in constant action, -and in nimble bandying of country wit with these workpeople. Betty -sat at table and carved for them, and dealt out sly hits to one or -another as she dealt out plates well-heaped with boiled beef or -bacon, and plenty of broad beans, cabbage, and other vegetables. -There was often more genuine wit and humour circulating amongst these -sons of the soil than illumines the boards of very great men. - -“Ah! you there, Joe Clay,” cried Betty, “let me give you some more -greens.” - -“O! no more greens, thank you,” said Joe ruefully, “but a little more -cabbage if you please, Betty.” - -There was a loud burst of laughter, which the uninitiated would not -have seen the gist of; but Joe Clay had married a Green, who led him -anything but a green life. Not even Xantippe could have cut gibes -with her. - -“How’s your wife’s mother, Nathan Hopcroft?” - -Nathan Hopcroft, a stupid-looking fellow, shakes his head. “Th’ owd -ooman’s stark dead, Missis; and I canna bury her; an’ I mun ha’ it -done.” - -“Good rest to her,” said Betty, “she had long ceased to know much of -this world—and, Nathan, if you canna bury her, you know where to go.” - -“Where?” - -“To the club.” - -“Ay, I’ve been there, an’ said I mun ha’ it done, but they said, ‘No, -the coffer were empty; I was very able to do’t mysen,’ an’ I ar’n’t. -Th’ pigs hanna done well this year, and ar Jack’s rabbits has been -stown—nothing but ill luck. Nay, they wanted me to pay th’ doctor’s -bill.” - -“What doctor had you?” - -“Owd Doctor Drawatter.” - -“What! him with th’ pigtail and powdered head,” said Betty, “and that -fine gold-headed cane, and that smooth finiking voice? My gracious! -that such a fine powdery peacock sort of a doctor should come to -you, Nathan.” - -“Ay, and what do you think he said? When I told him poor folks -couldna pay doctors’ bills—they had enough to do to get bread—he -says, ‘Pooh, pooh, man! the poor are the best off of any people; -they’ve got no dignity to support, like gentlemen, and gentlemen -doctors.’” - -“There’s something in that, though,” said Betty, “though you laugh at -it.” - -“Ay,” said another man, “if they would na plague us wi’ lawyers and -doctors, we might do. There’s Lawyer Metthard been selling up poor -Judy Selston for rent, poor old soul, and now she must end her days -i’ th’ workhouse.” - -“Oh, drat that Lawyer Metthard,” said Betty. “He should be called -Meteasy, for he’s only too easy to meet, and not so easy to get away -from.” - -Betty’s sally was warmly applauded, and was sure to be reported all -over the parish. “But, Betty,” says another, “pr’ythee give me just a -spoonful more beer.” - -Betty, who was an English female Eulenspiegel, though she never -had heard of him even in his English name of Owlinglass, and often -amused herself by taking people literally at their word, took up a -table-spoon, filled it with beer, and handed it to the astonished -labourer. - -“Nay, Missis,” he said, “I did not mean to be so very exact.” - -“Why, then, don’t people say what they do mean?” asked Betty, -gravely; “how is one to know?” - -The laugh went round at the man’s expense; and Betty suddenly calls -out to a humorous-looking little man in a soldier’s old red jacket, -at the bottom of the table,— - -“Well, Tom Boddily, so you are out of the House of Correction again, -I see.” - -“Yes, Missis,” says Tom, who had been shut up a few months for -making free with Sir Benjamin Bullockshed’s hares. “Yes, Missis, -and who should I meet as I was coming home that very day, but Sir -Benjamin’s own self. It was on the Furze Bank, where I had snickled -my hares. ‘So Tom,’ says he, ‘you are abroad again, eh? I hope you -have learned, however, now to know your own.’ ‘Oh yes! your worship,’ -says I, ‘and a little of other folks’s.’ ‘Ah! thou hast learned too -much by half,’ Sir Benjamin said, says he, and rode on, but suddenly -turning round, ‘Eh! Boddily! here’s a gate thrown off the hooks. Can -you tell me who’s done that?’ ‘Yes, your worship,’ said I, and he -looked all alive to know. ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I can tell your worship. As -Sir Roger Rockville says,—“It’s either Bill Newton, or Jack Shelton, -or somebody else.”’ The squire asked no more questions; but before he -could get out of ear-shot, I said, ‘Thank your worship for sending -me to the Stone Jug for three months; there’s better keep there nor -at home. I don’t know how I shall ever make you amends, unless I -come and dine with your worship some day.’ ‘Dine with the devil!’ -he exclaimed, turning as red as Farmer Winterwheat’s new-painted -barndoor, and digging his spurs into his innocent horse—wishing, I -reckon, as it had bin me.” - -With this anecdote of Tom Boddily’s, the whole rustic company rose, -with a great scraping of feet and scrawling of wooden chairs on the -brick floor; and sallied forth with much laughter and approbation of -Tom’s _tu-quoque_. - -The summer was now in its glory. The elder-flower scented the breeze, -the pink wild rose waved in long sprays from the hawthorn hedges. The -breeze fanned deliciously the hot brown cheek of the milkmaid, as she -sang over her milking-pail in the golden-flowered croft. The lark -sung her lustiest and clearest strains over the heads of mowers and -haymakers at the Grange farm. - -It was busy time at the Grange in the hay-season. Besides several -fields of mowing-grass on his farm on this side of the river, Mr. -Woodburn had a great extent of hay-meadow on the other side. This -hay they got up and stacked in the field, and it was sold thence to -Castleborough. Mr. Woodburn and George were every day busy with the -workpeople there till it was done. They had access to these great -meadows by a primitive sort of ferry over the Trent, just below -the Grange, to which a winding hollow lane, betwixt high banks and -hedges, led. The boat, or rather punt, was capable of taking a horse, -but not a cart over: carts and wagons they had to take over at the -bridge, lower down the river. Anyone could pass himself over at this -punt, by pulling at a chain which stretched across the river, and -was secured at each end to a post with a pulley. The ferry was known -by the name of “Wink’s Ferry,” from a man who once lived in a cottage -near. - -When the haymaking was transferred to the home fields, everybody in -the family took an interest in it. Letty took a part, and joined -George and Betty Trapps in tossing about the grass, and making a -sport of haymaking. Wherever she was, there was plenty of talk and -laughter; and George, who directed the operations of the workpeople, -often saluted her with a shower of hay, from his fork, over her -head, telling her that she would never earn salt to her porridge at -haymaking; whereupon Letty would appeal to Betty Trapps, whether -she did not work famously, and Betty said, “Why, Miss Letty, your -laughter is worth a day’s work. I’m sure it makes me feel young -again.” - -Ann would come out, too, and lend a hand soberly, but soon tiring of -it and sitting down with her mother, who brought out her knitting, -and sate under a shady tree, enjoying the scene. Mr. Woodburn was -leisurely at work, too; stopping, every now and then, to lean on his -rake or fork, and wipe his brow, and calling to his wife and the -girls to come and look at a mouse-nest, with a number of sleek young -ones all in motion, or to share the honey of some little colony of -humble-bees, clustered up in its brown cells not unlike a round bunch -of grapes. - -The last day of haymaking was always a sort of haymaking fête at -Woodburn Grange. A tent was pitched under a huge-spreading oak-tree, -in a pretty hilly field opposite to the house. A number of young -people of the neighbourhood were invited to dine in the tent in -rural fashion, and also to take tea, if the weather was warm, on -the grass in front. On this occasion there appeared on the ground, -Miss Millicent Heritage, under the guardianship of her mother; -and Sylvanus Crook drove them thither, and was to assist at the -haymaking, which he liked. With them came also a new acquaintance, at -least to the Woodburns; for he was an old friend of the Heritages. -This was a fair, amiable-looking young man, who bore, however, the -learned title of Dr. Frank Leroy, and whom they had all heard of -as a young Quaker physician of Castleborough, who had a very great -reputation for talent, and for skill in his profession, having -obtained diplomas, with testimonials of the highest kind, from two -or three English as well as from foreign schools of medicine. Any -one looking at him at that time of day wondered where the signs of -Quakerdom were, for he dressed and spoke like any other gentleman. -There was nothing, either, very learned or formidable in his -appearance. He was courteous, agreeable in his manners, and, as a -stranger, somewhat retiring. He soon, however, became animated on -joining the other young people, seized a fork, and set manfully -to work; and the group, full of merriment and sport, were soon -reinforced by Harry Thorsby, overflowing with life and frolic. Our -company being collected, we will take a closer view of the rural -gathering in another chapter. - - - - - CHAPTER VII. - - THE HAY-FIELD FÊTE. - - -Scarcely were the young amateur haymakers, who, by-the-by, were -furnished with light forks and rakes suited to such delicate hands as -those of the ladies—scarcely were all engaged in raking and throwing -up the hay into wainrow under the generalship of George Woodburn, -with much mutual merriment over one another’s awkwardness, and over -Thorsby’s mercurial capers and flourishes—when a novel sight arrested -their attention, and brought them all to a full stand. It was a long -procession of the labourers, each carrying a dish, and marshalled -and watched over by Betty Trapps. The men had finished their own -dinners in the house, and were now, on the return to the field, made -the bearers of the viands for the gentry. Clumsy as such Ganymedes -might be supposed, they had in their time been often employed to -carry eggs and young lambs, as well as most of them babies, and they -executed their task without a single stumble; and soon, according -to custom, a horn was sonorously blown at the tent-door to call the -party to dinner. All came trooping in free array, like a happy flock -of pigeons dropping down to their barley at the barndoor. There -were no leadings-in of ladies, but all came laughing and chatting -amongst each other, and found an excellent dinner awaiting them. I -shall not chronicle the courses; my readers can imagine all sorts -of delicacies, to which the merry troop, seating themselves without -any regard to precedence, seemed ready to do ample justice. Somehow, -however, Dr. Leroy happened to find his seat at the elbow of Miss -Millicent Heritage, beaming with radiance of youth and beauty from -beneath those jetty eye-lashes; Harry Thorsby, by an equal chance, -sate close to Letty, whose fair, fresh, heart-lit features cast a -sunshine round her; and George, the grave but genial George Woodburn, -occupied a place betwixt Mr. and Mrs. Degge, to whom he could show -all attention. Mr. Woodburn and Mrs. Heritage were neighbours, and -seemed to have much of interest to talk of, in which Ann and her -mother occasionally joined, but what they said could not be heard -from the clatter of plates and youthful tongues in full play. - -Betty Trapps, and Tom Boddily, in his old soldier’s coat, waited on -the company; and Sylvanus Crook, as something more than a servant, -had a seat amongst the guests. No happier party ever dined under an -oak in a tented field, as Thorsby called it. It was wonderful, too, -to see the dexterity and ability with which Tom Boddily performed -his office. Ever and anon Thorsby had a witty word with him, and Tom -was never without his answer. “Where didst thou learn to serve at -table so nicely?” asked Mrs. Heritage. - -“With my captain, madam.” - -“Oh! thou hast been in the army?” - -“Yes, madam, served fifteen years.” - -“And wast thou in any battles?” - -“Well, ma’am, I can’t say that I haven’t been in battles, but none -where much powder was spent. I was in the militia.” - -“Oh! that was it. Thou never wast out of England?” - -“No, madam.” - -“And thy captain?” - -“That’s the present Squire Chillington, madam. I wor his servant many -years while in the regiment.” - -“And how camest thee to leave him?” - -Tom looked significant; a smile stole round his mouth. “Well, the -captain, ma’am, left me.” - -“Oh, indeed! I hope thou hast not offended him justly, anyway?” - -“No, madam, oh no! not in the least; but people may know too much, -and it is inconvenient.” - -There was some laughter. “Chillington, we all know, has been a very -wild fellow,” said Mr. Woodburn; “was it not so, Tom?” - -“True, sir, true,” said Tom. - -“Tell us a little about him, when you were with him, Tom,” said Harry -Thorsby. - -“Well,” said Tom, as he continued to run about, changing plates -and attending to everybody’s wants, “I don’t like telling tales -out of school; but since my old master signed the warrant with -Squire Bullockshed for picking up a hare that I happened to see in -a snickle”—here Tom was drowned in a loud burst of laughter from -the gentlemen—“since he did that, I don’t feel so tongue-tied as -afore. Well, it is true enough, my captain did sow his wild oats -pretty freely. It was a gay time, that regimental time. What with -a splendid mess, and fine horses, and dogs, and fine”—Tom hesitated -a moment—“fine people of one sort or another, money did go, though. -My captain blazed away faster than any of them. Wasn’t he heir to -the fine old estate of Beech-Lees? Well, it was the old story: my -captain wor continually out at the elbows. Money, money, money wor -always wanted. The governor, as he called him, that wor his honoured -father, after a while stopped dead short, and wouldn’t out with a -stiver. ‘Tom,’ he said—that worn’t me, it wor my captain, he wor -named Thomas—‘Tom,’ he said, ‘must live on his pay.’ Live on his pay! -The pay of the whole regiment wouldn’t have done for him. Well, he -used to write to his father’s steward to send him money, telling him -he should find the good of it when he came to the estate. And the -steward sent him money for awhile, but then he writ that the Squire -had got an inkling of what he was doing, and kept such a strict -ferreting into the books, that it was all up in that quarter. The -steward remained a good sum out of pocket. - -“I believe my captain had managed to borrow considerable sums of the -Jews on what are called past-a-bits, but the Squire soon let them -know that the estate wasn’t entailed, and that was up too, and the -Jews were as keen after him as so many hounds after a hare. As to -borrowing of any of the brother officers, they were all pretty much -of a muchness, that is, they were all very able to borrow, but not to -lend. There was only one of them that was able to lend, and that was -the Major, and he had the unfortunate name of Need.”—Much laughter, -and loud cachination, or what Betty Trapps called crowing, from -Thorsby.—“Major Need was always in need. You might as well have asked -fire of a fish as money of the Major. He always pleaded poverty, and -said the mess was really so extravagant, he should get all the leave -of absence that he could. And you may believe me, he did spend the -greater part of his time at home. And what was he doing? Why, he was -just as busy as a bee in planting a vast lot of poor, sandy land that -he had with larch trees. There he was, while my captain and the rest -of the officers were sowing their wild oats, always busy in sowing -larch seed, and having a lot of men at work planting the young trees -out as they grew. There you might see this poor man, who never had a -penny to lend to a brother officer in distress, riding away to his -beggarly land not worth a rent of a shilling an acre, mounted on a -sturdy pony, bearing a sort of bag slung on his back, with his dinner -in it, and a big pruning-knife and a little saw in it besides—going, -he was, to prune his larches as they wanted it, and keep a sharp eye -on his men at work. Well, I was that way the other day, and bless my -stars! what a vast of fine woods that man has, and they tell me he -is as rich as a duke, him that in our regiment’s time never had a -penny to lend or spend. - -“Well, it came to a sharp pass at last with my captain. The lady -asked if I had been in any battles. Ay, troth, I was at that time -in battles enow, with those unreasonablest of varmint, called duns. -My captain would have been awlis in prison if mother nature had not -blest me with a good share of contrivance, and a skull that could -stand sharp acquaintance with constables’ staffs. Oh! if I do miss -heaven at last, it will be for all the lies I told them, for my -captain. How often I have sworn that he was gone down to see his -honoured father, who was on his death-bed, when all the while he was -trembling in every limb behind the door that I held in their faces. - -“Once I was nearly sold. Oh, my gracious! didn’t my heart leap into -my mouth! Things were come to such a pass that something very -ingenious must be thought of. ‘I have it,’ said I to the captain. -‘I’ll hire a coffin, and when they come I’ll say you’re just dead.’ -‘No, Tom!’ he said, ‘no; that won’t do.’ Then said I, ‘I give in, -and there’s nothing for it but the debtor’s gaol.’ Well, that cowed -him. ‘Do as you like, Tom,’ said he; and very soon I had hired a good -oak-coffin and gilt breastplate from the undertaker just by. ‘Now,’ -said I, ‘when these fellows come thundering to-day, as I hear they -will—they swear they’ll break locks—you just lie down in a sheet, and -leave the rest to me.’ - -“Well, no sooner said than done. I had hardly time to lock the door, -and compose my captain’s goodly limbs decently in the coffin, and -put the lid loosely on, when, bang! came the constables at the door. -Quick, quick did I open. ‘Oh, is it you?’ said I, sobbing bitterly, -and with brooks of water running from my eyes, for I had a famous -strong onion hidden in my handkerchief. ‘Oh! come in,’ said I, ‘come -in, and see what you’ve done. You’ve broken his heart at last. There -he lies! Oh, enjoy the sight—do, do! Enjoy the misery you have -made. Oh! what hearts are bleeding down the country there for this -handsome, good-hearted young gentleman that you’ve killed!’ - -“I off with the coffin-lid—ghastly looked my captain’s face, with -whiting that I had daubed it with. ‘There!’ said I, ‘you’ve killed -him. Your worrying had brought him so low, he catched the typhus, -and——’ Here my tears stopped my voice. ‘Fie! typhus!’ exclaimed -the fellows in horror, and out they brushed. But it was nearly all -ruination. My captain, impatient of his coffin, lifted his head -before they were well out of the door, and said, laughing, ‘Are those -scamps gone?’ Quick one of the constables turned, ‘Didn’t I hear -something? Didn’t I see something stir?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ said I, ‘you -saw the wind from the door blow the shroud up, and with it, no doubt, -the air of the fever. Ha! away!—it is as much as your life is worth.’ -The man bolted, and for that time all was right. But it was a very -near touch, with the captain’s impatience.” (Loud Hear, hears! and -much laughter.) - -“Lucky for us, the regiment marched next day, and my captain had gone -off in the night. But at our next quarters it was not much better. -The captain was clean swept out of money, trinkets, and of almost -all his clothes. He had a gold watch which his mother had given -him. It cost forty guineas, and that he had kept through all. One -day he said to me on the parade ground, ‘Tom, I have left my watch -on the chimney-piece in my room. Fetch it, or I shall not know when -to dismiss the men.’ I knew very well what it meant. He could have -dismissed the men well enough, for the town-hall clock was right -opposite to him, as he fronted the ranks. I knew that he meant at -last to take it to my uncle.” - -“Hadst thou an uncle living there?” interrupted Mrs. Heritage. - -“Yes, ma’am,” replied Tom, drily. “Poor men have uncles everywhere, -and very kind ones; their doors always stand open to them.” - -“I am very glad to hear it,” said Mrs. Heritage, in her wealthy -ignorance of such uncles, and amid the stifled merriment of the young -people. - -“What I mean,” said Tom, “is, he meant to put it up the spout.” - -“Up the spout!” said Mrs. Heritage, in augmented astonishment. “He -meant to hide it?” - -Tom nodded assent. - -“He meant to pawn it, he means,” said Mr. Woodburn. “That’s his -slang,” seeing that Thorsby’s good manners were choking him. - -“Oh, that was it!” said Mrs. Heritage. - -“Yes, that was just it,” said Tom. “I went off with a sad heart on -the errand, but I soon had a sadder. When I went into my captain’s -room, the watch was not there. I called the landlady, and said, ‘Who -has taken Captain Chillington’s watch away?’ - -“‘His watch?’ said the landlady, ‘why, he sent for it!’ - -“‘Sent for it!—by whom?’ said I. - -“‘Why, a young man, in a dark grey livery and silver-laced hat, came -for it. He said he was Major Need’s man, and Captain Chillington had -asked him to come and fetch his watch from the parlour mantel-piece, -and his overcoat from the peg in the passage.’ - -“The ground seemed opening under my feet. ‘Did he say where the watch -was?’ - -“‘Yes,’ said the landlady. - -“‘And the overcoat on the peg?’ - -“‘He did,’ said she, now all in a tremor of fright. ‘He seemed to -know so exactly all about them, that I never suspected nothing at -all.’ - -“‘And the coat’s gone, too?’ said I, looking into the passage. - -“‘That’s sartain,’ said the woman. - -“I rushed out; there was no time to lose. I ran round to all the -pawnbrokers first; then to the police-office; then to the town-crier. -I offered five pounds reward to any one who would detect the thief; -I did that on my own head; I did not go to the parade—it would have -been of no use—it would have been over—and I did not like to break -the news. When I came back chop-fallen to our lodgings, there was my -captain. The landlady had told him all. There he sate, dropped down -into a low chair, and he looked now more like a corpse than he did -in the coffin. He never spoke. I was horribly afraid that he’d go -off into an apoplexy, or something, or lose his senses. ‘Captain,’ -said I, ‘you’ve heard it.’ He never moved. ‘Captain!’ said I again, -louder, and shook him by the shoulder. ‘It is no use sorrowing or -fretting, we must be wide awake to recover the property.’ - -“Then he gave a great sigh, and seemed to rouse a little. ‘It is of -no use,’ he said; ‘that was an old hand, that thief. Catch a weazel -asleep, and shave his eye-brows. You’ll never catch that scamp. It is -all up, Boddily. That was my last throw. There is not a single stone -in this cursed world left unturned,’ and he went quite stupid and -stony again. - -“‘Captain,’ said I, ‘it is of no use talking that way. We must be -after the fellow, we shall catch him before he leaves the town. Faint -heart never won fair lady. Rouse, captain, rouse; we’ll have him yet, -and all will be well.’ - -“But you might as well have tried to rouse a milestone. At last he -burst into tears, and he cried like a child, and rocked to and fro in -his chair with his face buried in his hands. He sprang up suddenly, -and snatched a pistol from the mantel-piece; I tore it from his hand. - -“‘Are you mad, captain?’ I said. ‘Would you go headlong to -everlasting destruction, and kill your mother with grief?’ That -seemed to sober him a little. ‘Cheer up,’ said I; ‘it’s an old -saying, “When things come to the worst, they begin to mend.”’ - -“‘Never with me, Tom,’ he said, throwing himself down, and looking -the pictur o’ despair. ‘Never with me—all’s up. I’m a doomed -man—nothing prospers with me.’ - -“I could have told him why they did not prosper, soon enough; but -he’d enough on him without any cut from me. As for me, I was at my -wits’ end. How should I manage to keep him from laying violent hands -on himself? I was about to ring for the landlady, and, while telling -her to bring some brandy, whisper to her to run for help—when, bang! -comes a thundering knock at the door. ‘Lock it, quick, woman!’ said -I. But even that did not rouse my captain. ‘They are there, again, -let them come,’ he said—‘let them do their worst.’ - -“The landlady, however, had opened the door on the chain. Women -are awlis sharper about such things than we are. In she comes with -a letter and a great black seal with a coat of arms. The captain -glanced at it,—he pounced on it like a hawk—he tore it open and read. -His hand trembled, then shook violently—the letter dropped, and he -dropped, too. I caught him in my arms. ‘Water!’ I cried, ‘water! -brandy!’ The landlady flew. We drenched him with water; we tried to -force some brandy between his teeth, but couldn’t. They were set as -fast as rocks. At length he gave a deep sike (sigh), opened his eyes, -and drank off the whole glass of brandy. - -“‘Troubles never comes alone,’ he said, beginning to speak. ‘The -governor is dead, Tom; we must be off to-night for Beech-Lees; run -and take our places in the night-coach.’ He tried to look as if the -blow of this news had been a stunner, but I could see that it was -huge relief. Mountains were off his shoulders. The governor was -past all _his_ troubles, and there was that fine old property of -Beech-Lees. I had no further fear about my captain. - -“‘But,’ said I—‘I’ll run to the coach—but the money for the fares?’ - -“‘Oh!’ said he, looking about for the fallen letter, ‘there’s money -enough.’ - -“I picked it up, and another bit of paper. - -“‘That’s it,’ said he. ‘There’s no want of money, now.’ It was a Bank -of England note for one hundred pounds. ‘Get the Major to change it -into small notes,’ he said. ‘He has always bushels of them.’ - -“I was running out to take our places, when I went slap up against a -constable. ‘The carrion have got scent of the carcass already,’ said -I to myself. The next moment I saw my captain’s gold watch in his -hand. ‘We have found this,’ he said, ‘at a pawnbroker’s, pledged for -five pounds.’ ‘All right,’ said the captain. ‘Catch the man, and I’ll -give you fifty pounds, and come and prosecute the thief.’ - -“He took the watch. ‘That’s it,’ he said; and put it in his pocket. - -“‘But we shall want that,’ said the man, ‘when we charge the thief -before the magistrate.’ - -“‘Catch your hare, and then we’ll cook him,’ said my captain, now -grown quite cheery. The man looked as if he would have the watch back -to produce in court. ‘When you have the thief,’ said the captain, -‘you will have both the watch and myself to produce; in the meantime, -Tom, take this good fellow, and give him a couple of guineas, for -his present trouble; be quick, we have no time to spare.’ - -“That night we were on the way; the next morning we were at -Beech-Lees. Soon after Captain Chillington got married, and made a -thorough change in his establishment. Among the rest, I went to the -wall; but I would not have minded, after all we suffered together -in our sogering days, if he hadn’t signed that warrant of Squire -Bullockshed’s. That was a cut that will stick by me till the day of -my death.” - -By this time, the dinner was over, the dishes all removed, for Tom -Boddily had been rapidly serving and changing all the time he talked. -A splendid dessert was set on the table, of grapes and peaches from -the hot-houses of Rockville, mellow gooseberries, raspberries, -strawberries, and cherries from the Grange garden; and Tom made his -bow amid many thanks for his story, and withdrew with Betty Trapps, -to play his part amongst the wainrows. Great commendations were -heaped on Tom for his ability in both telling a story and waiting at -table, and his services were not likely to be neglected on fitting -occasions from that day. - -Soon after this, Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn and Mrs. Heritage rose and -walked out into the pleasant sunny air of the field. A soft breeze -was blowing, or rather breathing over the warm, dry country. Mr. -Woodburn joined Mr. and Mrs. Degge, and Mrs. Woodburn and Mrs. -Heritage wandered up the field where it was cleared of the hay, and -seated themselves on a bank beneath a noble crab-apple-tree covered -with green fruit. They appeared deeply absorbed in conversation, -and any one listening might have caught frequently the names of Sir -Emanuel Clavering, his son Henry, and of Ann Woodburn. There was a -mother’s care in the usually bright and comely face of Mrs. Woodburn: -there was higher care in the noble countenance of Mrs. Heritage. - -“Then thou dost not think,” she said, looking earnestly at Mrs. -Woodburn, “that he really does practise ungodly arts?” - -“Oh, no!” replied Mrs. Woodburn. “That is all the silly talk of the -silly, superstitious country people—that is, country people of all -sorts—for the farmers are as superstitious as the labourers: and when -Sir Emanuel appeared at the hustings at Castleborough to nominate a -friend of his as candidate for a parliamentary seat for the county, -the farmers set up a great yell, and would not hear him, saying, -‘That is old Clavering who deals with the Devil.’ But it is all -because he is a great astronomer, and is seen going out at night to -his observatory. The truth is, as I believe—and a sad truth it is, he -does not believe in our Saviour.” - -“Oh! how very sad! how very deplorable!” said the pious-hearted -Friend. “I feel greatly drawn to speak with him on the subject. Such -a very clever and agreeable man as he is; and to be so far overseen. -Truly it is sad that this world’s knowledge makes us blind. And his -son Henry, dost thou think he has instilled these unhappy sentiments -into him?” - -Here Mrs. Woodburn bent closer to her friend, and the conversation -became still more earnest and engrossing, but carried on in a low -tone, and with many pauses, and significant looks and gestures, and -not unfrequent deeply-drawn sighs. - -But the sounds from the tent below, which had been hitherto those -of a continuous clatter of tongues, and of merry laughter, now came -forth in a chorus of singing voices, in which the bass tones of -Thorsby were predominant amid the clear, sweet voices of the young -ladies. The tent was like a great cage of warbling birds, or as -Mrs. Woodburn said, of happy angels. “Oh!” said she, “I do love to -see young people happy. No one knows what after-life may bring. For -youth—so a poem which I saw in the newspaper the other day said— - - ‘It is the time of roses, - They pluck them as they pass.’” - -“I only hope,” said the careful Mrs. Heritage, “that they won’t teach -my Millicent any vanities. She is naturally, I think, only too fond -of music and singing; and thou knowest our Society sees such a snare -in these things.” - -“Oh! my dear Mrs. Heritage, Miss Heritage will hear nothing here but -what is perfectly good. They have been singing only Burns’s sweet -‘Banks and Braes o’ bonnie Doon.’” - -To the fair Friend, whatever might be the moral qualities of “Bonnie -Doon” was all unknown; but the discussion was cut short by the whole -youthful troop issuing from the tent, and going briskly across the -field, and disappearing in a wood that ran down towards the river. -Nothing more was heard of them till tea-time, except an occasional -call of a clear, female voice, or a note of laughter, for awhile, -and then all was still. About five o’clock, the workmen having their -“four-o’-clock,” as it is termed, amid the haycocks, were seen -bringing up the apparatus and materials for tea, which was not set -out in the tent, but this time amongst the hay in front, abundance -of cushions being brought for the company to sit upon. Once more the -horn was lustily winded, this time by Mr. Woodburn, George having -gone off with the rest of the young people: and, anon, like Robin -Hood and his men, they were seen coming gaily over the hill. - -They all came in glowing with heat and evident pleasure. Letty -Woodburn looked like a sylph, but a very rosy one, all light and -gladness, as if ready to fly away: even the gentle Millicent’s clear -blue eyes flashed a radiant enjoyment. According to their account -they had been taking botanic lessons from Dr. Leroy, and had suddenly -come upon Mr. Thomas Clavering, the rector of Cotmanhaye, fishing -in the river, who had amused them with a world of anecdotes about -birds and animals. He had assured them that he had seen a jay with -an audience of wondering birds all around him on a tree, whom he was -astonishing by the cleverest imitations of different singing birds. - -Thereupon Sylvanus Crook said he quite believed that. He was “quite -satisfied that birds sing songs of praise to their Creator quite -intelligible to birds.” - -“But,” said Harry Thorsby, “they always sing the same airs.” - -“Yes, Henry Thorsby, it may seem so to thee; but in my opinion, if we -could understand them, we should find them poets far beyond many of -our own kind. They do not, indeed, sing about men’s actions, but of -the goodness of God to birds, and of the beauties and pleasures of -creation. Hast thou not heard, friend Henry, of the Eastern Sultan’s -minister who knew the language of birds?” - -“Oh! that’s a fable, friend Crook,” said Thorsby, “an Eastern -apologue.” - -“Maybe,” said Sylvanus; “but I think that is a very beautiful -observation of Izaak Walton, the great angler; who on hearing the -nightingale sing, said:—‘If God gave such music here to the wicked -and ungrateful, what will He give to his saints in heaven?’” - -“So you do like music after all, friend Crook?” asked Thorsby, -sarcastically. - -“Yes, natural music,” said Sylvanus, and Harry Thorsby was girding -him up for a regular dispute on the Friend’s objection to music, -but he was prevented by all seconding Sylvanus’s quotation of Izaak -Walton as extremely beautiful, and by Mr. Woodburn asking Tom Boddily -what he had been doing lately, intending to draw out some of his -country humour. - -“I’ve been a little on my travels,” said Tom. - -“Oh, indeed! where?” - -“Well, I crossed an arm of the sea, as my companion, simple Simon -Grainger, called it, and got into a country on the other side.” - -“Ah! where did you cross this arm of the sea?” - -“At a place called Sawley.” - -“Sawley!” said several voices at once. “Why, that is on the Trent, -Tom.” - -“Well, I dare say it is; but Grainger, who never was five miles from -home, insisted that it was an arm of the sea.” - -“And what did you do on the other side, Tom?” - -“We were employed in getting gravel for roads out of the river Soar -with a machine, and Grainger had a fine opportunity of earning a -guinea in less time than he ever earned a groat in his life, if he -had had faith enough.” - -“Not faith enough?” - -“No,” said Tom. “You see, a gentleman, as he was crossing the ferry -near us, pulled out his gold watch to look at the time, and let it -drop into the river. It was quite plain to be seen, for the river -is as clear almost as air, but it was deeper than it seemed. The -gentleman tried to get it up with his stick, but could not reach -it, and he offered a guinea to any of the passengers as would fetch -it up. None of them would. So the ferryman calls to us, and says to -Grainger, ‘Old fellow, you’ve good six feet of stuff in you; just -jump in and get hold of the watch, and there’s a guinea for you.’ -‘No, thank you,’ said Grainger; ‘don’t you believe it; I can trust -God Almighty on the ground, or in a tree, but not i’ th’ water.’ It -was no use urging him. ‘Stop a minute,’ said I, ‘I’m but a short ‘un, -but there are more ways than one of roasting apples.’ So I asked the -gentleman to lend me his stick. ‘It’s not long enough, my man,’ says -he. ‘Isn’t it?’ says I, taking the stick. I just laid mysen down on -the boat, stripped my arm bare to the shoulder, and in a jiffy I had -twisted the hook of the stick into the guard-chain, and up comes the -watch, and down goes the guinea into my pocket. ‘There’s not much of -thee,’ said the gentleman, looking at me, as he handed me the guinea; -‘but thou’st got thy share of brains.’” - -Sylvanus thought Grainger’s speech almost impious, not to trust God -in the water as well as on the land. “Ah! poor, ignorant man,” said -Mrs. Heritage, “his faith only stops short at one point, and ours at -another. Is there not a limit to the faith of every one of us?” she -asked. “Would not Sylvanus find a limit to his faith in some other -direction?” - -“Ay, that he would,” said Thorsby, as he lay kicking his legs about -in the hay. “Let him walk over burning ploughshares as they did in -the middle ages.” - -“As for that,” said Sylvanus, “I could walk over them readily enough, -but I would decline walking upon them.” - -“Would your faith enable you to climb up the church-steeple and stand -on the weather-cock, and turn round upon it, as a foolish fellow did -the other day?” - -“No,” said Sylvanus, “there, friend Henry, thou hast indeed found my -limit. My faith is not a foolish faith. I would not tempt Providence.” - -“Well, dear friends,” said Mrs. Heritage, as if afraid that the -conversation might take a rather caustic turn, “I think the evening -warns us to remove. Dear Millicent, draw thy shawl round thee, and -our other dear young women friends I would caution to do the same. -You have been warm with your little excursion. And here I would -remark that it is the custom of our Society on social occasions, -sometimes to drop into a little solemn silence, in which something -beneficial may arise in our minds. I would kindly invite you to such -an exercise.” - -When all had fallen into a silence, which to some of them was a -rather curious thing amid the pleasures of a festive day, Mrs. -Heritage, at first in a soft and musical voice, which by degrees -acquired depth and earnestness, said—“Dear friends, this has been a -beautiful, and to all of us, I think, a very happy day. Let us not -forget to be grateful to the Giver of it, and of all good gifts. -Days come and go, and, however stationary we may seem, we are going -with them. The bloom and gaiety of youth, beautiful as it is, is -evanescent as the glories of yon western sky.” - -At these words all involuntarily turned, and saw one of the most -glorious and gorgeous spectacles imaginable. All the western sky was -flooded with waves of gold and purple, burning in and through clouds -of richest magnificence. An opening in them gave passage to the blaze -of the departing sun, and resembled the gates of heaven thrown wide, -and, within them, far receding regions of celestial splendour. All -below, under the effect of this intense radiance, looked dark and -mysterious, like a weird land of cimmerian shadow that might hide -some mystery. - -The fair speaker paused awhile as every eye was earnestly fixed on -the scene, then went on, as if speaking the thought of every bosom. -“Truly ‘this may be said to be the house of God, and this is the gate -of heaven.’ What power but that of almighty wisdom could suddenly put -forth a celestial emblazonment like that? What architect could design -such a wondrous and portentous portal to imperial city or palace? -What painter could suffuse it with hues and glories so divine? Yet, -such is the prodigality of the Omnipotent Artist, who has sent forth, -in a moment almost, that glorious vision, that in a few moments He -will suffer it to depart, as if it were of no value. We, or most of -us, visit the galleries of great painters; we gaze in enthusiasm on -the imitations of nature which they hang upon our walls, and decree -immortality to them for their inspired achievement; yet the King -of artists every day spreads before our eyes, and the eyes of the -simplest and the poorest, landscapes and aerial paintings which no -mortal hand can ever equal, and no man lays it to heart. The peasant, -returning home at this hour along some solitary vale, sees a picture -such as no so-called immortal master ever accomplished, such as no -king’s house can boast. Yet we feel no wonder; we utter no praise. -Behold! and the marvellous scene is gone!” - -All again turned, and saw but a grey, dull sky, and below the -solemn gloom deepened into intense blackness. The speaker paused; -her fair, finely-developed face, seemed rapt as into an ecstasy, -still and passionless; it was as if the inner eye looked spirit-like -through the outer, and saw deep into the looming night of the western -quarter. A deep sigh escaped her, and with softer and strangely -thrilling tones, she said, - -“I feel it, dear friends, laid solemnly upon me to utter words which -seem not to befit a day of gladness. My spirit wrestles with it, -and would flee from the burden, as the Hebrew prophet fled from the -burden of Nineveh; but a mightier, holier power compels me, and I -must obey.” A strange shudder passed through the youthful listeners, -and Letty, greatly excited, half sprang up and cried, “Oh, don’t! -don’t!” But George quietly held her down, and put his arm round -her, clasping her with brotherly affection. The speaker, as if -unconscious of the sensation she had evoked, went on. - -“Beautiful, very beautiful was yonder sky; beautiful, very beautiful -are the days which have passed here. Dark, however, the gloom which -underlay that glory of colours. I feel some of us, perhaps many of -us, perhaps all, more or less, baptised into that darkness. We are -passing deep into its shadowy regions. We are pilgrims and wayfarers -through the valley of the shadow of death, through the midnight -wastes of blackness and despair. Oh! thou heavenly and tender Father! -extend thy omnipotent hand. Lift us over the torrents rolling through -the deep, deep darkness; bear us up in thy loving, unforsaking arms!” - -The speaker paused, and sate still as a stone image. Her eyes were -open, but the awed and affrighted circle could not tell for their -lives on what they rested. Again, slowly lifting her hand, and -pointing westward, she said— - -“Yes, ever-living, ever-merciful Father, Thou dost lead us. It is -borne in upon my heart to know and feel that to all who hold fast -their faith, there shall be a safe re-issue from the temporary gloom. -Not a hair shall fall from the head of any of us. Thou wilt baptise -us into sorrow, only to inspire us with wisdom, with faith, with -love. Over that gloom of a little time, again the heavenly glow of -Thy divine pencil, the radiance of Thy inner and inexhaustible beams -of beauty, shall steal abroad; and the latter shall be lovelier, -though more subdued, than the former pageant. All Thy colours of life -shall be clearer, purer, more lofty, more etherial. The after-glow of -our evening shall be more tenderly fair, more serenely blessed, than -our noon has been strong and rejoicing. Amen!” - -During the latter part of this startling address, the eyes of the -company had mechanically followed the hand of the speaker, and saw -the colours of the sunset once more travel out, kindle anew, as it -were, all over the western sky in most exquisite and trancelike -beauty. It seemed as if the inspired woman had command of the -elements, and that their magic limnings followed the motion of her -hand; the soul within, however, did but follow the course of nature -and the promptings of God. How often, in future years, did every -member of that company reflect on these words with wonder, though -they now somewhat offended the sense of fitness in many of those who -deemed auguries of evil ill-timed as the finale of a day of youthful -rejoicing. The speaker, however, rose up, and, without any apology, -shook hands with Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, said “Farewell” to her -young friends, and taking Millicent’s arm, walked silently towards -the Grange, at whose gate her carriage and that of the Degges were -waiting to take them home. - -All the rest followed in silence. At the gate of the Grange Mr. -Woodburn pressed Mrs. Heritage to go in and take some supper, but she -declined, the carriages rolled away, and the company dispersed. Harry -Thorsby, however, went in, and remained for some time. But no one was -inclined for supper, though a very charming one was set out, with -abundance of creams, and custards, and other rural dainties. Letty -was in a state of strange excitement. She appeared quite hysterical, -now bursting into tears, now laughing outright, and at length sunk -down in a fainting fit on the sofa. There was great alarm and -agitation; but Mr. Woodburn said, “Be quiet; don’t disturb her; only -stand back, and let her have air; she will soon be better.” - -“It is that silly, preaching woman,” said Thorsby. “What does she -mean by coming here and croaking of all sorts of trouble, like a -confounded old beldame as she is?” - -“Gently!” said Leonard Woodburn. “If no evil is meant us, Mrs. -Heritage cannot and does not wish to bring it. If some evil does -impend over us—for what mortal shall say that he is insurance-proof -against it?—let us rather pray earnestly that it may be averted, -or that we may have strength given us to bear it. But all that she -means, probably, are the inevitable trials that this life sends us -all. It is merely her Quaker language.” - -By this time Letty had recovered her consciousness, opened her eyes, -sprung up, saying, “Oh! what have I been doing? Why are you all -standing there, and looking so strange?” - -“My dear child,” said Mrs. Woodburn, kissing her, “you were too much -excited by Mrs. Heritage’s sermon; you have fainted; you had better -go to bed.” - -Letty gave a shudder, wiped her face, on which the tears stood -glittering, and said, “Oh, why _did_ she talk so! What _could_ -possess her! Yes, mother dear, I will go to bed.” She smiled, kissed -her father, throwing her arms round his neck, shook hands with the -rest, and sprang away upstairs, followed by Ann—who was also deeply -moved—and her mother. - - - - - CHAPTER VIII. - - A NICE SAMPLE OF FARMERS. - - -About ten o’clock in the morning, Harry Thorsby rode into the -farm-yard at Woodburn Grange, gave his horse to the groom, and -entered the house-place from the garden. There sat the whole family—a -perfectly rural group—George excepted. The ample bay-window of that -large cool room was thrown open on the sunny side, and the sunshine -and shadow flickered pleasantly amongst the rose and jasmine boughs -round the window. On the cool brick-floor stood a large basket of -ripe gooseberries, and Mrs. Woodburn and Ann were busy clipping off -their eyes and stalks, and dropping them into dishes on their knees, -in preparation for preserving. Mr. Woodburn sat on the other side of -the circle, shelling peas—a job he was very fond of—into a shallow -basket on his knees, from a large one on another chair at his side. -Letty sat on a scarlet cushion on the floor in the middle, reading -from some book to the rest. She was in a white morning-dress, and -Thorsby’s eyes were first directed to her. - -“Good morning!” said he, pleasantly, “all you very useful people. And -you, Letty?” - -Letty brightened up with a rosy blush and brilliant eyes, and said, -“Oh, quite well!” - -“What, no worse for that Jeremiad yesterday?” - -“Oh, no!—why should I? As father says, it was only Quaker -phraseology.” - -“Then I wish,” said Thorsby, seating himself, “she would keep it -exclusively for the Quakers.” - -“Well, I really wish she would,” said Ann. “Poor, dear Letty was very -much put out by it. She was very restless and feverish in her sleep. -She slept with her eyes partly open, and glistening, which frightened -me, for I got up, the night being light, several times, to look at -her, and woke her because she was trying to cry out in her dreams.” - -“Oh, I was dreaming all sorts of horrid impossibilities,” said Letty, -laughing; “climbing over the tops of houses, and the like, and not -knowing how to get down.” - -“Ah, there it is!” said Thorsby. “I shall call and tell that -dove-coloured Pythoness that this sort of thing won’t do.” - -“No!” exclaimed all the family at once, Letty more energetically than -the rest, “you must not do that. It would grieve poor Mrs. Heritage -so; and there is nothing amiss. I am quite well,” said Letty. - -“Grieve poor Mrs. Heritage, indeed!” replied Thorsby. “These canting, -religious people, however, don’t care whom they grieve.” - -“I cannot agree to that, Mr. Thorsby,” said Ann. “No nobler-hearted -or more humane woman lives than Mrs. Heritage.” - -“I think,” said Thorsby, “they are selfish, money-grubbing people, -these Quakers; and that there’s not much to choose between ‘the -Quaker sly’ and canting Methodist.” - -“Or a backbiting profanian!” said a voice behind. - -Thorsby turned quickly round, and exclaimed, “Oh, Betty Trapps, so -you are there! eh?” - -Betty had come in for a pie-dish from the great cupboard, and caught -the fling at the Methodists just as she was going out. - -“Ah! just in time, Betty,” said Thorsby. “I’ve got a pleasant -anecdote for you.” - -Betty was moving off, without deigning a reply, when Thorsby said— - -“You know that your old acquaintance, Molly Ayre, is dead?” - -“No,” said Betty, stopping at once. “No. Is it true?” - -“True as gospel,” said Thorsby; “and I want to tell you her dying -sayings.” - -Betty was riveted to the spot by the news of Molly Ayre’s departure -and her dying sayings, for she had a great veneration for dying -sayings. - -“Well,” said Thorsby, addressing the company at large, “you know that -old Sam Ayre, as we familiarly call him, is a bag-hosier,—that is, he -possesses a score of stocking-frames, employs as many stockingers, -and brings in his hose to our warehouse. Molly, his wife, kept a -little shop. They were both zealous Methodists, and Sam——” - -“You might as well say ‘Samuel,’ Mr. Thorsby,” interrupted Betty. - -“And Sam, or Samuel, is a class-leader in high repute. Yesterday -comes somebody begging my mother to go to Mr. Ayre’s, as the Missis -was dying. Molly Ayre had been a servant at my grandfather’s. My -mother hurried off. The poor woman evidently was near her end, and -was giving some last directions to her husband, who sat, burly man as -he is, drowned in tears on the bed-side. - -“‘Well,’ continued the dying woman, ‘my dear Samuel, thou’ll find -all th’ accounts o’ th’ shop right in th’ book in that drawer there. -There’s forty pounds owing to different people, principally to Mr. -Fairfax, the grocer. Thou’ll see it punctually paid?’ - -“‘Eh! poor dear soul!’ said the husband, ‘wandering! You see she’s -quite wandering!’ - -“‘And,’ continued the dying wife, ‘there’s a good deal more owing to -us. Thou’ll find it all down i’ the book; and i’ th’ same drawer a -good heap of money in a stocking.’ - -“‘Eh! blessed, dear creetur!’ said Ayre, the tears streaming down -his cheeks—‘poor, dear creetur! Sensible to th’ last minute!—sensible -to th’ last minute!’” - -“Oh, get out with thy profanities!” said Betty, going out, and -pulling the door after her smartly; not even staying to hear how -Molly Ayre went at last. - -The whole Woodburn family could not help laughing heartily at this -picture of human nature, though they were afraid it might reach -Betty’s indignant ears. - -“As to the Quakers, however,” continued Mr. Woodburn, “I must assert -that though they are devoted to getting money, some of them make -a very good use of it. The Heritages are extremely benevolent, -and expend large sums every year in adding to the comforts and in -promoting education amongst the poor, both in Woodburn and in the far -greater field of Castleborough.” - -“Ay, and they gather in plenty to do it with,” said Thorsby. “Why, -Mr. Heritage’s gold may go out by pecksfull, but it flows in by -bushelsfull.” - -“That may be,” said Mr. Woodburn, “but it does not alter my position. -Look, then, at Mr. Dell. Now, he is a man who is not in their -Society, but he goes to their meeting, and associates with them, from -his sense of their more thoroughly moral character than that of most -other people. There is a man who is always planning some good for the -people. He has himself built and endowed a free school for the poor; -and has worked actively in creating public gardens and public walks -in all directions.” - -“And that intelligent and liberal man,” said Thorsby, “can go and sit -two mortal hours, on a Sunday morning, in their meetings, where not a -word is uttered! Wonderful!” - -“Well,” said Mr. Woodburn, “that is rather wonderful; but then he -tells me that he takes the Bible in his pocket, and reads a chapter -or two, and meditates on it.” - -“He might do that at home,” said Thorsby. - -“He might,” said Mr. Woodburn, “and we might and may leave people to -their peculiar notions of what suits them best,” quietly proceeding -with his pea-shelling. “And look, again, at that brave old man, -William Fairfax, the eminent grocer and hop-dealer. Did you ever see -a picture of the great law reformer, Jeremy Bentham? or of Benjamin -Franklin?” - -“Of Franklin, of course,” said Thorsby. - -“Well,” continued Mr. Woodburn, “there is a great general resemblance -in the persons of these three great men, for I place Mr. Fairfax in -the scale of great men. They were, and he is, of middle height and -strong build. They had, and Mr. Fairfax has, a style of countenance -with strong features, somewhat prominent nose, and their hair hanging -in abundance on their shoulders. Mr. Fairfax dresses, as you know, -in plain drab, with waistcoat long and with flaps; and he may -often be seen going about the town without his hat, and looking -very abstracted, and with one hand thrust into his waistcoat about -half-way down. - -“Now there is a man who, if he had had the same education, or the -same ambition, as Franklin or Bentham, would have achieved as great a -reputation, for he has as great and original abilities. It is lucky -for Castleborough, however, that his lot is cast there. He has always -stood forth for the good and independence of the place without any -regard to his own interest.” - -“But his interests have flourished finely,” said Thorsby. - -“True,” added Mr. Woodburn, “but not the less true his daring and -noble independence. Awhile ago, Lord Middleton sent his servant to -say, that if Mr. Fairfax did not vote for the Tory candidate for one -of the borough seats in Parliament, he would withdraw his custom. -‘Tell thy master, young man,’ said Mr. Fairfax, ‘that I am not an -Esau to sell my birthright for a mess of pottage. He is free to -take his custom where he pleases.’ His lordship withdrew his custom -accordingly, but he soon found that he could not get served so well -anywhere else, and so went back to Mr. Fairfax’s shop. But the most -remarkable thing is, that Mr. Fairfax has never paid a penny of the -property tax.” - -“And do you call that honest, Mr. Woodburn?” asked Thorsby. - -“Yes, perfectly so, in his case. The law was expressly stated, in -the preamble to the act, to be for the prosecution of the war. Mr. -Fairfax, as a Quaker, has a decided objection to war, as unchristian. -He could not pay it; but he was quite ready to allow the law to take -his property for that purpose. He was willing to suffer, though he -could not conscientiously pay the tax voluntarily. Well, what was -the consequence? Distraints were made repeatedly on his goods for -the amount. Nobody would buy them; and they were always bought back -at the expiration of the number of days prescribed by law. At length -the Commissioners sent for him. William Fairfax walked into their -presence without his hat, and with his right-hand, as usual, thrust -into his waistcoat. - -“‘Mr. Fairfax,’ said the clerk to the Commissioners—a man of very -dubious character, I must say—‘Mr. Fairfax, what trouble you give us. -It is the law of the land, and you must obey it.’ - -“‘If,’ said Mr. Fairfax, ‘Parliament passes an act to set up -Nebuchadnezzar’s image again, wouldst bow down to it?’ - -“‘No,’ said the clerk. ‘I would fly my country first!’ - -“‘Yes, the wicked flee when no man pursueth,’ said Mr. Fairfax, -quietly; ‘the righteous stands his ground as bold as a lion.’ - -“Mr. Fairfax stood erect, grave, and without moving a muscle, in -the midst of the circle of Commissioners, who burst into a roar of -laughter at the hard hit which their lawyer clerk had received. -William Fairfax walked unmoved out of the room, and a few weeks after -the act was repealed. He never paid a penny of it.” - -“Then I think he should,” said Thorsby. - -“I don’t,” said Mr. Woodburn. “I think every man should stand boldly -by his conscientious convictions. Mr. Fairfax did not care a straw -about the amount of the tax. It was the public of Castleborough, -doing homage to his uprightness, that refused to mulct him with the -tax and the costs of the distraint. I could tell you many other -remarkable acts of this genuine Quaker, as far from any cant or -selfishness as Pole is from Pole; but I see George standing with a -proposition in his face.” - -“Yes,” said George, “it is a most delicious forenoon. The air is -blowing charmingly, and tempers the heat. I am going to Hillmartin -and a little beyond, and I want you, Letty, to mount Fairaway, and -have a gallop in the breeze. It is what you want to take the dismals -out of your blood. Ann, what say you?” - -“I say that I shall stay and help mother; but, Letty, by all means, -and Mr. Thorsby will join you.” - -“Of course he will,” said Thorsby. - -“Your horse is saddled, Letty,” added George. “I will have him -brought out, and so away, and get on your habit.” - -Letty was soon arrayed in hat and habit, looking as fresh and blithe -as if nothing had disturbed her nerves: and anon the three, with -Letty in the middle, were taking their way up the ascending road -towards Hillmartin. It was, as George had said, a delicious July -day. Over the sky light clouds were scattered; the breeze, soft yet -fresh, made the sun genial and not oppressive. The wild roses wound -fragrantly from the tall hedges, and the light-blue buglos, and the -lighter-blue chicory—the latter with flowers as if cut out of silk, -and stuck formally on the stalks—studded the sandy banks of the wide -heathery lane that they rode along. The wheat-fields stood green, -but in full ear, and the convolvulus and the scarlet poppy showed -themselves gaily round the borders of the corn-fields. - -“I never see those flaunting field-poppies now,” said George -Woodburn, “without thinking of that young poet Keats:— - - ‘Those scarlet poppies, which do bring to mind - The scarlet coats which trouble human kind.’” - -“Ah!” said Letty, “but I think more fondly of Ruth, in the ‘Ode to -the Nightingale’:— - - ‘when sick for home - She stood in tears amid the alien corn.’ - -That image of the faithful daughter of Moab has given me a new and -lasting charm in corn-fields.” - -“I wish,” said George, “some great poet or magician could come and -drive a little poetry, or at least common sense, into the old fellow -yonder looking over his homestead gate.” - -“Why,” said Letty, “that is that wretched old miser, Timothy Squance.” - -“Yes, it’s Tim Squance, sure enough,” said George. “Notice him well, -Thorsby.” - -As they drew near, they saw an old man standing leaning his hands -on the gate which led into his farm-yard. He was in a dingy, -dirty-looking suit of coarse, grey cloth, with black worsted -stockings and strong laced ankle-boots. He had on an old, slouching, -weather-beaten hat, and looked with a still, half-imbecile look at -the advancing young equestrians. He made no movement of recognition. - -“Good day, Mr. Squance,” said George Woodburn; “fine weather for the -corn.” - -“Ay, Master George, and for the hay too. I reckon you’ve gotten yourn -in.” - -“We have,” said George, as they continued to ride on. “But Squance -has not got his in; and won’t for this next ten days, because he -won’t pay for the necessary men. There are his two great strong sons, -and an old carter working at it, that is all. Look at his house, his -yard, his hedges, his everything. The thatch on the house is old and -rotten; his yard doors are tumbling down—some have fairly fallen to -pieces, and he stops the doorway with hurdles. Look at the dirt in -his yard. Look at these hedges of his, spreading out on all sides, -covering acres of ground. Look at these great bramble-bushes, and -furze-bushes, standing here and there in his grass lands. And see -what rushes and blue wiry grass are growing all over his fields -of pasture. Not a penny will that man pay to stub and drain his -fields,—they are growing wild. He cannot see that labour well -employed is more profitable than the sparing of it. His sordid, -narrow soul cannot comprehend such an idea. In winter his farm is -drowned and starved with water. His house is unapproachable for -deep mire. In summer his corn-fields are smothered with weeds and -thistles and couch-grass. He quotes Sir Roger Rockville in defence of -letting things alone—of bad roads and a filthy farm-yard. He won’t -put his money in a bank or out at interest lest he should lose it; -and years ago he had his house broken into by some canal-cutters, and -had himself and his wife tied to the bed-posts whilst they ransacked -the house, but the thieves found nothing. It is believed that he has -buried a great deal of money on his farm, or in the copses; and it is -doubted whether his two equally sordid sons even know where it is, or -will ever find it. Avarice has reduced his soul to the most wretched -condition of poverty and littleness possible for it to reach and be -a soul at all. He formerly had a brother still more keenly penurious -than himself. He was so stupid that when any one in the house—for the -brothers lived together—offended him, he would threaten to cut his -throat and go to America. - -“Oh,” said Thorsby, who could never let a jest escape him, “no doubt -he thought he had to cross the Red Sea to America.” - -“Those two sons of Squance’s,” continued George, “never had an atom -of education but what they picked up in winter from Howell Crusoe; -and he said that endeavouring to teach them was like trying to fetch -water out of an empty well. I once went to the house about some sheep -of his that had got out of his fields—for the fences were full of -wide gaps—and were in a furzy hollow, called the Dales, and were -sticking fast by their fleeces to the furze and briars. You should -have seen the place! There sat old Squance, just as you now saw -him, filthy in the extreme; his face did not appear to have had any -acquaintance with water for years; his grizzly beard was coarsely -clipped with scissors, and looked like a rough stubble. The house -was half filled with faggots, and he sat on a bench on one side with -a billhook cutting them into fire-wood. His wife, not much cleaner -or decenter, was cooking at the wide black fire-place; and the walls -were all round black with smoke, stained with grease, and completely -covered with smoked hams and flitches of bacon. The ceiling was -partly occupied with the like, and with paper bags of seeds, and -bunches of herbs, camomile, horehound, sage, and mint, hanging from -it.” - -“But remember, George,” said Letty, with much merriment, “remember -what a funeral they made for that silly brother, who used to talk of -going such an odd way to America.” - -“Oh, to be sure,” said George. “The coffin was put into the great -waggon, and the old man, his wife, and the two sons, sat round it. -They had managed to display black for mourning, but it is believed to -have been hired at a pawnbroker’s, for it has never been seen since. -The waggon was drawn by six great farm-horses, with all their bells -on their collars ringing and jingling as they went.” - -“How _can_ people,” said Letty, wonderingly, “grow so stupid about -their money—what good is it to them!” - -“None,” said Thorsby, “no more than so many oyster-shells; but, Miss -Letty, it is of no use your trying to comprehend such people. Their -ideas are as unintelligible to you as you are to them. If they were -allowed to try a reforming hand on you, they would sell your laces -and your clothes, put you into linsey-woolsey, and set you to feed -the pigs. Then they would think you useful; now they think you, -certainly, a very useless and expensive sort of creature.” - -“Oh! I am glad they have not the opportunity for such a -metamorphosis,” said Letty, laughing. - -“It is the oddest thing in the world,” said Thorsby, “is that -wonderful fancy for scraping up money, and denying yourself all -your life-long the commonest necessaries. There is that old -fellow, Woolley, of Derbyshire, who made the town-hall clock of -Castleborough. That man once tried if he could not save horse hire -by employing a lot of stockingers to draw his plough, as he held it, -for he had a croft in his own hands; but the plough stuck fast at -once in the earth, and the old man left it there, exclaiming, ‘How -wonderful is the strength of a hoss!’ This old fellow is a freeman -of Castleborough, and at the last election, coming to give his vote, -he could not waste his precious time in waiting in the crowd at the -hustings, but crept amongst their legs and came up by the table -where the candidate and his friends stood taking votes. Seeing a very -shabby-looking man thus emerge from amongst their feet, the candidate -said, ‘There, my good fellow, vote and away,’ putting half-a-crown -into his hand. ‘Stop!’ said the town-clerk, ‘that is a very rich -man!’ But Woolley put the coin into his pocket, saying, ‘Every little -helps!’ gave his vote, and disappeared. - -“That clock which he made for the town-hall is a very remarkable one; -it goes a year without winding up. When he put it up, he ordered -that no one should meddle with it till he came to wind it up, and he -took the key with him. Weeks, months, a year nearly went over, and -the clock continued to go. At last one day, the very day year, it -struck one short at twelve o’clock, and the town-clerk sent a man off -to fetch Woolley, lest it should stop altogether. As the messenger -ascended the hill out of the town, he met Woolley coming down. -Having told him his errand: ‘Fools!’ said the clock-maker, ‘I told -them I should come at the right time. It will go till one o’clock, -and it yet wants half-an-hour.’ But Woolley,” continued Thorsby, “was -a philosopher to this Squance, for on being told that his nephews -would spend his money fast enough when he was gone, he replied, ‘If -they have as much pleasure in spending it as I have had in getting -it, I shall be quite satisfied. I sha’n’t haunt them.’” - -“Oh! that is a sensible fellow, said Letty.” - -“I am giving you,” said George, “a flying sketch of our different -neighbours in this direction. See that tall brick house on the -right hand there; with this nicely kept carriage-drive, and pair of -handsome cast-iron gates and new lodge. That is the farm, or I should -rather say now, residence, of Mr. Norton. He has a farm hereof his -own, of five hundred acres: and it is called Peafield. Norton only -lately married a fine lady from the south somewhere, who has effected -all the changes that one sees here. Till her advent, there was no -lodge, no carriage-road, and no carriage. Now there is a handsome -phaeton and pair of greys. Norton himself—you know him, Thorsby—is a -tall, solemn-looking man, who had only the education that Woodburn -could give him; and was brought up as plodding a farmer as any of -them hereabout. But this marriage has made a great change, if not -in him, at least in all around him. Mrs. Norton, who writes notes -on beautiful tinted note-paper with the address of Peafield on the -top of each sheet, has had much trouble to school her husband—now -Squire Norton, of Peafield—into something gentlemanly. He shoots, and -courses, and drives like any gentleman, and really, when you meet him -in his carriage with Mrs. Norton, you might suppose him some ‘squire -of high degree;’ but unfortunately, like St. Peter of old, ‘his -speech bewrayeth him,’ and Mrs. Norton has continually to check him -and say, ‘Oh, my dear! not so—that is quite rustic—but so and so.’ - -“Tom Boddily, who has both eye and ear for the ridiculous, tells an -anecdote which excites excessive mirth in the evening circle of the -Grey Goose public-house. One evening, he says, when he worked there, -Norton came into the yard with a lantern to see the horses properly -suppered and bedded, and went into the barn to give out the oats for -them. Soon after Tom went into the house, Norton came out of the -parlour and says, ‘Run, Tom, into the barn; I left the lantern on the -disappointment. Fetch it.’ - -“‘The disappointment?’ says Tom, ‘what might that be?’ - -“‘Oh!’ said Norton, turning very red, ‘deuce take all these -new-fangled words—I mean the balk, man, the balk.’ - -“Tom comprehended in a moment. Mrs. Norton had heard her husband -speaking of being baulked on some occasion, and had corrected him, -wishing him to say disappointed. Hence his jump to the idea that -a balk or beam was a disappointment in polite language. ‘Well,’ -said Tom, ‘was it that he thought of the lantern, for he found the -candle burnt down to the socket, the hot tallow and great pieces of -red-hot snuff falling through a burnt hole in the lantern on the -straw beneath, and in a little time the whole building would have -been in a flame.’ Tom, however, was as unlucky as he had been with -his captain. Norton thought he was too wide awake to the ridiculous -in his schooling by his learned lady, and he has never employed him -since.” - -“But it is time to turn homewards,” said George, as they were merrily -laughing over the late education of Squire Norton, of Peafield. “Ah! -but here is another original.” - -“Good-day to you, Mr. Woodburn,” said a jolly, rosy farmer, with a -broad, merry, and humorous smile on his face, as he stood setting -wide his field-gate for a loaded hay-waggon to come out. After a few -good-humoured words with Farmer Thatcher—as they rode on, George -said,—“Now there is a man who is a man in his place, and who does not -want to be out of it. He is a genuine through and through farmer, -and nothing more nor less. Honest, and genial as the day is long; -he loves a joke as he loves his pot of beer and his harvest dish of -broad beans and fat bacon; but his jokes are never at the expense -of a neighbour, but rather of himself. He says, when he wants warm -weather, he puts his flannel-waistcoat on, and then, he says, it -is sure to come to try to plague him: and he goes out without an -umbrella when he wants rain, and it is sure to come and try to gi’ -him the rheumatiz. He won’t have a blanket taken off his bed in -spring, because, he says, it will immediately turn cold, and he -should spoil all the crops in the country. These are his jokes, -for things really seem to happen to us thus oddly; but the country -fellows here believe him in earnest, and say he certainly is the -weather-wisest man hereabout and far away.” - -With such light-hearted discourse the three found themselves back at -Woodburn Grange for dinner, which was set out, as usual in the warm -weather, in the house-place. All feelings of sadness or foreboding -had vanished. Letty was as beaming and blithe as usual, and Harry -Thorsby was overflowing with fun. As Betty Trapps waited at table, -Thorsby could not refrain from trying a fresh word or two with her. - -“Why, Betty,” he said, “you did not wait to hear what a good end your -friend Mrs. Ayre made. I assure you it was very edifying.” - -Betty said she did not wish to hear Mr. Thorsby jest on sacred -subjects. - -“I wish now,” said Thorsby, “I was half as learned as you, Betty, -in the Bible. Come now, tell me this: What was the reason that Jacob -on his death-bed, said ‘Bless the lads,’ but said nothing about the -lasses?” - -Betty was doggedly silent. - -“Do you give it up, Betty?” asked Thorsby; “do you give it up?” Betty -still maintained a disdainful silence, wiping a plate very briskly -with a napkin, and handing it to one of the company. - -“It was, then,” said Thorsby, “because Jacob left the lads to bless -the lasses.” - -Jacob’s logic tickled Letty wonderfully—she laughed aloud, and the -graver Ann smiled demurely, and the rest looked much amused. - -“I thought it was some graceless ribaldry,” said Betty then, -scornfully. “Eh! what a death-bed there’ll be somewhere, one day! I -wouldn’t be there for all the cotton in Castleborough, for all the -wealth in Lunnon, for all the fish in the Trent.” And with that, -taking up the tray, Betty disappeared, and left them to their -dessert, no doubt with much aggravated ideas of Thorsby’s death-bed, -which was sure of coming some day. That was her comfort in all -Thorsby’s scorns and jibes, as she called them, though she would -not have liked to confess it to herself. On the contrary, she often -made the pious ejaculation—“God give him grace to see his awful -state. It makes one’s flesh creep to think of it. That young man -goes on tempting Providence as if there was not a sky above him, and -a listening ear in it, that hears and listens on as if nothing had -happened, and yet there is another dot gone down in the great Book of -Account. God help him; I am glad he is neither kin nor follower of -mine.” - -This she said to Ann Woodburn, who, in the course of the afternoon, -told her she thought her quite rude to Mr. Thorsby, who was very -lively, but really meant no harm. - -“No,” said Betty, “he may mean no harm, and yet there may be harm. -There are clouds as often hang o’er heads as never see ’em. I’m -jealous, Miss, I am, and awfully when I see such a squitter-witted -thing as that—a will-o’-the-wisp, as can only lead into a bog, -hanging about that precious Miss Letty.” - -“Miss Letty!” said Ann, looking offended. - -“Ah! Miss Letty; an angel, too good for any such scapegrace as hasn’t -sown even his wild oats—only mere skegs, which are but bastard oats. -I’ve eyes, Miss, I have,” said Betty, “if other folks haven’t, as -should have. He is clever, I grant you, is that young man; but mark -me, Miss Woodburn, he is all fingers and no wrist. He is all pendulum -and no clock-weights. He doesna want cleverness, no more nor a -monkey, but he wants sober sense, and grace more nor all. I’ve heard -of his daubing a poor dumb creature’s face, as if it had fallen, and -getting it a terrible beating. Ay, and he’d daub an angel’s face, -and ca’ it a devil, if it suited him. He would black the devil’s -boots for nothing, while poor Christians were walking barefoot over -glass bottles.” - -“Stop, Betty, cease!” said Ann, with much authority. “Now you are -becoming malicious. I cannot permit you to speak in such a manner -of any friend of our family. I—and I am sure my parents—expect you -to behave with respect to all who come here with our approbation. -Again I tell you, Mr. Thorsby means no harm. I wish, indeed, that -both he and you, Betty, were more guarded in your expressions; but -you are older than he is, Betty, and should set him an example of -forbearance.” - -Betty was silent. - -Betty was not more sharp-sighted than any member of the Woodburn -family. All had long seen the intense admiration of Henry Thorsby for -Letty, and that Letty was growing strongly attached to him. But no -one, except Betty, augured anything but the greatest satisfaction in -the alliance. No direct overtures had yet been made by Mr. Thorsby; -but his devotion to her was obvious in all his actions, and in -his constant rides to Woodburn Grange, rather than to his former -favourite places of resort. Though his gaiety, and freedom of speech, -and fondness for a little satirical mirth, at the expense of her -beloved Methodists, offended Betty Trapps and others of her society, -his moral character was without a blemish: and his social position -and wealth, as shown by the extent of his business, were all that -could be desired. - - - - - CHAPTER IX. - - THE FRIENDS’ PARTY. - - -A few days after came an invitation to Woodburn Grange, from Mrs. -Heritage, to a party at Fair Manor. It was a thing that created no -little consternation. - -“Oh!” said Letty, “I cannot really go! I dare not go for the world! -To think only of another such a sermon! It would kill me.” - -“No,” said Ann, anxiously, “you, at all events, cannot go, dearest -Letty; and I don’t feel to like it by any means myself. What are -we to do? what shall we say? And how very odd—the Heritages don’t -profess to give parties; they keep an open house, as it were. It is -very strange—what can it mean?” - -“It means,” said Mr. Woodburn, “I dare say, that Mrs. Heritage feels -that she left a gloomy impression the other day behind her, and she -is desirous of effacing it by a pleasant party at Fair Manor.” - -“A pleasant party at Fair Manor! Oh, dear father, how _can_ a Quaker -party be a pleasant party?” exclaimed Letty, walking quickly about -the room. And then, laughing in her usual gaiety, “Only to imagine a -party of Friends, who neither sing, nor dance, nor play any music, -nor any game but fox-and-goose, or drafts or dominoes, and who make -such frightful addresses—being a _pleasant_ party! Why, to them a -letter from a distance, or a very dull poem indeed, is an excitement. -Think of David and Dorothy Qualm, helping to make up a pleasant -party! But, really, it is a dilemma! What is to be done?” - -“I am sure I don’t know,” said Mrs. Woodburn. “I would not for the -world offend dear Mrs. Heritage, nor dear Miss Heritage, they are so -good, and, spite of that unlucky sermon, Mrs. Heritage is so wise and -remarkable a woman. I think, my dear, you and I and George may go, -and let Ann and Letty be gone out. They can go somewhere for a few -days.” - -“No, no,” said Mr. Woodburn, “I don’t like that sort of women’s -subterfuges, to get out of a disagreeable invitation—they are little -better than falsehoods. I will tell you now how it will be. It will -be a very pleasant and unique affair out in the grounds—they are -very pleasant grounds—and you will see, Mrs. Heritage won’t preach a -single word. She means to do the kind and restoring thing. We will -all go, and be jolly.” - -“Jolly!” “Oh, dear father!” “Oh, dear husband!” resounded all round -Mr. Woodburn from the ladies. “What an idea! Jolly at a Friends’ -tea-drinking!” - -Even sobersided Ann, as her father called her, was excessively merry -at her father’s notion of a pleasant party. - -“Why, dear father,” said Ann, “though I admit that the Friends are -very estimable people, one cannot call them entertaining. I think -they are the dullest of people.” - -“By no means,” said Mr. Woodburn; “not half so dull as your genuine -aristocracy. Now, in my younger days, I spent a good deal of time -in London. I had introductions to much high aristocratic society, -through my neighbour, Lord Manvers, and I must say that duller -society I never was in.” - -“Oh, no! that is impossible,” said Letty, all wonder. “Why, the -aristocracy have all sorts of amusements. In the country, hunting and -racing. In town, theatres, operas, concerts; music and dancing, and -the finest singing, at their own parties. Their London season is a -perfect round and whirl of pleasures, according to all that I ever -heard or read.” - -“But I am not talking,” said Mr. Woodburn, “of their pleasures and -amusements; I am talking of their society. They give you good dinners -and good wine, I grant you, and you have all that you say—music, and -dancing, and fine singing. You have great crowds of fine and titled -people of whom you learn to know nothing but their fine clothes, and -fine jewels, and fine outsides. At their more select and domestic -parties—dinner-parties, say—all is very outwardly agreeable, polite, -and even, to a casual eye, unassuming, for such great people; but, -my dear girls, I tell you that, notwithstanding, aristocratic -society is the dullest of all society. Spite of that seeming ease -and non-pretence, there is a world of real resting upon their own -self-consequence and greatness of station. Try to break a little -through that soft and shining surface by a little of that familiarity -which is quite allowable in the middle ranks of life, and you will -soon feel that there is an invisible but not impalpable division -betwixt you and them. It is what a clear glass window must be to a -bird that flies against it, thinking it air. You cannot get beyond a -specious, arm’s-length acquaintance with these apparently so modest -and pleasant people. - -“A country yeoman may say of the aristocracy, as Northcote the -painter says, as regards his profession: ‘An artist may honour them -as patrons; but to imagine that he can hold communion with them, on a -footing of friendship, is a moral misdemeanour, for which he ought to -be soundly whipped.’ - -“Try to introduce a topic of more than lightest and most gossipping -interest, and see the effect. Instead of the warm kindling up of -a truly interesting and ennobling conversation, you produce a -deep silence. So many are the topics in those ranks, which, from -political and other causes, would be offensive to some one or -other, that all really important topics are tabooed. These gay and -speciously pleasant people dare not speak their own minds in society. -There may be peculiar and close little cliques in which they do; but -in my time it was well known that there were not above three or four -aristocratic houses in London in which there was any real freedom of -discussion. You met at many of them men of science, men high in the -Church and theology, men and women famous in letters, but they were -as dull there as the rest. They smiled, and talked of the weather, or -of the play, but their deeper thoughts were carefully locked in their -souls. No, I say it—that any one who long frequents aristocratic -circles, comes to feel a heavy, dull atmosphere there, and is glad -to get into the middle regions to breathe life and intellectual -thought once more. There is a science of dining-out discourse—the -art of talking without saying anything—and those who are adroit at -billiards may get well through the long after-dinner hours. I have -been at many out-of-door fêtes. It was the same. You had coveys of -gay people—great lords, bishops, princes even, great lawyers, and -great soldiers, and their ladies. Much beauty, much collecting of gay -equipages at the gates, and splendid military bands of music—but that -was all. It is true what Lord Byron says— - - ‘He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find - The loftiest peaks most wrapped in clouds and snow.’ - -“I don’t mean to say that the aristocracy, in their families, and -the familiar circles of their kith and kin, are not as agreeable and -as full of heart and pleasantness as other people. I am now only -speaking of them in their general society, as you were speaking of -the general society of the Friends; and, in fact, it may seem a -strange fancy to you, but I have always seen a great similarity in -the manners of the aristocracy and those of Friends. There is the -same quiet, unexcited manner—a repose that expresses no surprise -at anything. The women of the Society, in particular, are vastly, -in their manners and deportment, like ladies of rank, though so -different in costume. Both one and the other class can live in -society on the smallest possible quantum of ideas imaginable. Look at -the fair, smooth, unimpassioned faces of the Quaker ladies! On those -placid countenances you trace no vestiges of the storms of passion -or the cravings of ambition. Perhaps the Quaker ladies possess that -tranquillity of tone and temper which their aristocratic sisters -wear so admirably. Certainly I know no class of people who approach -so closely to the aristocratic caste, as the Friends. But, as to -dulness, give me the Quakers rather than the titled great, for they -do indulge in topics of the highest importance. On the means of -putting down war, slavery, priestcraft, and political injustice; and -on the means of promoting freedom of conscience and thought, peace, -and knowledge, they will at any time grow eloquent.” - -“Upon my word, dear father,” said Letty, “I never knew you were so -much of a Quaker before!” - -“I am no Quaker, little quiz,” said Leonard Woodburn, “but I like -them as honest and practical people. Do you know that William -Fairfax, of whom I was speaking a little while ago, saved me seventy -pounds lately? I was passing along the street in which his shop -is, when out he came, bare-headed. ‘Leonard Woodburn,’ he said, -‘hast thou any of Dakeyne’s notes?’ I replied, that it was very -probable, as I had lately received a large payment for corn from -Derbyshire. This Dakeyne was a flax-spinner, of Darley Dale, and on -his bank-notes he had an engraving of a flax-dressing machine, and -the motto, ‘Strike, Dakeyne! the devil is in the flax.’ ‘I never -liked that man,’ said Mr. Fairfax. ‘If the devil was in his flax, he -was not the man for me. But if thou hast any of his notes, get rid of -them, for he won’t stand a fortnight. He has many paper-kites out, -and they are beginning to fall.’ - -“On returning home, I looked over my money, and found seventy of -his one-pound notes. I paid them into Mr. Heritage’s bank, who -immediately, by his agent, paid them in to Dakeyne, so that we might -not be the means of defrauding any other innocent person.” - -“Ah! now I see,” said Letty, archly, “why you praise the Friends so.” - -“Hussy!” said Mr. Woodburn, “that’s the way you treat your father’s -motives, eh!” And he shook his finger in playful menace at her. - -At this moment up rode Harry Thorsby, and soon came rapidly in. - -“Well, you won’t go to this party at Fair Manor, of course?” - -“We are all going,” said Mr. Woodburn, with a sort of brusque jollity. - -“You are?” And Thorsby looked silently from one to another. - -“Not Letty, though?” he added. - -“Yes, Letty and all,” said Mr. Woodburn. - -“Are not you a little cracked?” asked Thorsby, gravely. “After what -passed lately—why, I can scarcely credit my senses.” - -“It’s all right,” said Mr. Woodburn. “I will pledge my wisdom that -all will be most innocent, and, I dare say, rather amusing.” - -“_Very_ amusing, I should think,” said Thorsby, laughing. “Nay, then, -if you are all going, I am going, and I shall try to make a little -fun, if possible; but if I see any sermon coming, I shall seize on -you, Letty, and run right off with you. But I can’t imagine, for the -life of me, how we are to get through the evening.” - -“Oh, but they can teach you how to save money,” said Letty, -mischievously; “and what can be pleasanter? That Mr. Fairfax showed -my father how to save seventy pounds the other day.” - -“That would be charming, indeed!” said Thorsby. “That settles the -whole question.” - -“We shall see what they will do,” said Mr. Woodburn. So it was -concluded to accept the invitation; and Harry Thorsby was entrusted -with the note to that effect to leave at the lodge in passing. - -The evening of the appointed day saw the Woodburns driving up towards -Fair Manor. Other carriages were seen approaching from Castleborough, -indicating that it was to be a considerable gathering. It was a -lovely evening. The day had been cloudless and hot; the earth was dry -and glowing, for there had been no rain for many weeks. The air, as -five o’clock approached (the early country hour fixed for tea), was -still warm and genial. “The weather is really made for these good -people,” said Mr. Woodburn; “we have not the proverbial rains and -chills of pic-nics and _fêtes champêtres_.” - -“And I think it’s made for us, too,” said Letty, gaily. “I don’t -think Providence is partial, dear father.” - -“Just so,” said Mr. Woodburn; “for as you are inclined to be a little -wicked, you moralising chit, it fulfils the proof that God makes his -sun to shine on the just and the unjust.” - -“Oh! do you number me with the unjust?” - -“Now and then I do, Letty; but, taking you altogether, you are pretty -well, I think.” - -They were now entering the great lodge-gates, which were thrown wide; -and the marks of a considerable number of wheels showed that, early -as they seemed, they were far from the earliest. A sober-suited man, -like one of the villagers, stood guard to keep the little curious -village children outside the grounds, and out of the way of the -carriages. A little on, and you saw that it was a gala day at Fair -Manor, for the fountain in the middle of the front lawn was playing -splendidly. The rich fragrance of the orange-flowers, from the large -row of trees along the house-front, floated deliciously through the -still, warm atmosphere. - -As they descended from the carriage at the broad steps of the front -door, what was their surprise to see, standing to receive them, Tom -Boddily, arrayed in a plain, dark, out-of-livery suit, who bowed with -a quiet, arch smile, but with a _savoir faire_, which showed that he -was at home in such an office. Tom informed them that the company -were all in the garden, where the tea would be served, and said the -ladies were recommended not to take off their bonnets. He led the way -through the fine wide and lofty hall running through the house, and -to the foot of the steps at the other door, where, with another very -_au fait_ bow, he pointed to a large canopy on poles, on the lawn, -where a considerable company of guests were standing about. - -“Now, there’s an instance of the quick eye for business which even -the lady Quakers have,” said Mr. Woodburn, as he led on his comely -wife. “Mrs. Heritage saw in a moment, at our haymaking, the jewel of -a serving-man in Tom Boddily.” - -The next moment Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, and the young ladies, were -received with the warmest welcome by Mr. and Mrs. Heritage, and Miss -Heritage, the latter of whom kissed Letty and Ann affectionately. -They saw George already there, and Thorsby, looking all radiance with -good spirits. They were introduced to the different persons unknown -to them, consisting of a “mixed medley,” as some people are fond -of calling it, of the Quaker world and the outer world. Amid the -ordinary attire of those, in Friends’ phrase, “not in the Society,” -gleamed the subdued hues, French grey and dove-colour, the dresses of -a number of young Quaker girls, in their neat little transparent and -delicately-drawn book-muslin caps. More matronly lady Friends showed -their dark-brown or russet colour gowns, white muslin handkerchiefs -over their shoulders, and caps of thicker fabric and plainer style. - -Thorsby, who had already found himself at Letty’s side, whispered to -her, “Deuced pretty are not some of these young Quakeresses? What -health, what innocence in their looks—and yet, I can detect a certain -arch wide-awakeness under all their apparent simplicity. And what an -air some of them have, even in that quaint dress—why, I can see that -in that gay unworldly costume, they cultivate—Fashion! Upon my word! -yes, it is a fact. See the difference betwixt the dress of the elder -ladies and theirs! As for Miss Heritage, she is really bewitching. -Why, in her simple dark dress and little jaunty cap there is an -indescribable elegance. Look at those clear, sunny, azure eyes, under -those dark eye-lashes, and amid that raven hair. I don’t wonder that -King George, in his younger days, ran away with a young Quakeress.” - -“Don’t you think,” said Letty, looking at him with a funny smile, -“that you will be running off with one some day?” - -“Never!” said Thorsby, looking earnestly into Letty’s eyes. - -But there is a call to tea, and the company are taking their places, -and we don’t yet know who there are. I see, however, Sir Emanuel -Clavering, Mr. Thomas Clavering, the rector of Cotmanhaye, and -Mrs. Clavering; Dr. Frank Leroy; a number of ladies and gentlemen -from Castleborough, whom my readers would not know if I formally -introduced them. There was that William Fairfax, the eminent grocer, -by whom Mr. Woodburn seated himself. There was a tall, large, -humorous-looking individual, a Mr. George Barthe, a Friend and -dentist, celebrated throughout the neighbouring counties amongst the -aristocracy for his skill and his droll sayings, Quaker as he was. -Not far off sat a middle-sized, thin, elderly man, of a venerable -but peculiar look, a Friend, named Mr. Ephraim Wire, reckoned a very -great eccentric. Mr. Heritage, a tall, handsome man, very gentlemanly -in his manners, and with a dark-brown suit of strictly Friends’ -clothes, yet somehow very little differing from those of other -gentlemen, was making himself agreeable to all present. Mrs. Heritage -looked at once Quakerly and queenly, and was as cordially kindly -smiling, and courteously hospitable, as if she never had breathed -a word of omen in any sermon, or in any other way. She knew how to -distribute her attentions to every one, and to make every one feel -at ease and happy. She saw all seated under that ample canvas canopy, -at that ample and luxuriously-spread tea-table, where a number of -urns, at equal distances, were made the centres of attraction, by -being officiated at by very sweet young girls in Friend-costume. -Tom Boddily was actively waiting, and conveying cups of odorous tea -or coffee with a dexterous celerity which showed old practice. With -him were Sylvanus Crook, in his Quaker drab, and another Quaker -serving-man, the very counterpart of Sylvanus, only nearly twice -his height and size. He wore a drab suit of the very same cut as -Sylvanus’s, grey stockings, and shoes with large square buckles. His -hat was three-cocked, and the broad brim suspended by silk-cords, -exactly as Sylvanus’s hat. He had a thin, somewhat meagre, but -knowing-looking countenance, and greyish hair. His hat now was laid -aside. - -“Look at that Bunyan’s Christian sort of man waiting so solemnly,” -said some one to his neighbour. “That is the coachman of George -Barthe, yonder, the dentist; odd master, odd man.” - -Sir Emanuel Clavering and Mr. Heritage seemed to be spreading a great -deal of life and interest around them by the conversation they were -carrying on. Mrs. Heritage, Mrs. Woodburn, and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas -Clavering appeared equally at home in some pleasant conversation. -Dr. Leroy had again contrived to be seated betwixt Miss Millicent -Heritage and a young lady—ay, who is she? Thorsby, betwixt Letty and -a gentleman unknown to me, but opposite to Ann Woodburn and this -young lady, was just asking the same question. Well, she is not a -Friend; and she is a stranger; and a very interesting one. She is -tall, handsome both in figure and face. Appears five-and-twenty, -and has an expression, so clear, clever, well-bred, and yet with a -sentiment in her eyes, both of love, of mirth, and of something -deeper, that is very fascinating. It appears so to George Woodburn, -who sits also not far from opposite to her, and has scarcely taken -his eyes off her since he first caught sight of her. - -Well, this fair stranger is Miss Elizabeth Drury. You would like to -know more? Then, I can tell you—that the Heritages lately met with -her at Scarborough—where, by-the-bye, the Degges are yet—that is the -reason you don’t see them here. Miss Elizabeth Drury is of Yorkshire. -Her father is as eminent an agriculturist as Mr. William Fairfax is -a grocer. Mr. Trant Drury is a great authority in all agricultural -matters, an advanced man in Georgic science, in knowledge of stock, -implements, and manures. He is a gentleman by education and capital, -but not by land: and Miss Drury is his only child. I say, and I -am sure George Woodburn thinks her, a very interesting person. He -is delighted to see how, after a few desultory and fragmentary -interchanges of speech with longish pauses between them, his sister -Ann and she warm-up and “cotton” to each other. What? Yes; they -are got upon love of the country, and of the—Church. Oh, that is -enough—the Church and the country, and George Herbert’s poetry, and -Jeremy Taylor—an odd mixture, but very taking to both Ann Woodburn -and Elizabeth Drury. There is a great league struck up at once—a -friendship for life. Ann Woodburn does not perceive that Dr. Leroy, -at her right hand, is spending all his conversation on Millicent -Heritage; and Miss Drury, though her eyes do wander a little over the -strange company, is deeply interested in Ann. - -“But pray,” she asks of Ann, “who is that very agreeable young man to -the left across the table, who seems to look one through and through.” - -“Ah! that is my dear brother George!” says Ann. “You will like him -so when you know him.” - -Miss Drury blushed. Why should she? It must have been because she saw -that George Woodburn had noticed the looks of herself and sister Ann -directed towards him. - -Down the table that amiable-looking Ephraim Wire is deeply -indoctrinating a listening number with Phonetics, Vegetarianism, and -the true source of health—all topics totally unknown then except to -himself. Further down we hear the voice of William Fairfax, grown -earnest and rather loud. He is evidently commenting on the burdens of -the poor, and the diseases of the body politic: and is uttering his -favourite declaration: - -“We have three standing armies.” - -“Three!” says some one. - -“We maintain three standing armies,” he continues. “We have a -standing army of soldiers to fight the French; and another standing -army of doctors to fight Death; and another standing army of parsons -to fight the Devil, of whom he standeth not in awe!” - -“Hear! hear!” Much laughter resounded from that quarter. - -“I hear our friend Fairfax,” said Mr. Thomas Clavering, “on his -favourite topic. He is brushing our cloth for us; but the good, -dear old reviler, he would give us a whole wardrobe if we wanted -one. For my part, I like to hear his good-humoured diatribes, and -often look in on him, and am sure to find some of the classes he -denounces, bankers, officers, doctors, or clergymen there. There is -more originality in that man’s mode of viewing things than in all -the minds in the county. But mark me, I will take my revenge on him -before he goes.” - -With this the guests rose. The tea-table, at all events, had been -a decided success. The groups who had engaged in conversation at -table, many of them, continued to walk and talk together with much -enthusiasm. Mr. Heritage told the company that he hoped they would -contrive to amuse one another. They would find in different parts -of the grounds, bowls, a target, and means of archery for those who -liked such exercises, and, he hoped, materials for ample pleasure -in one another. The company spread, grouped, wandered by degrees in -full talk, and disappeared amongst the winding walks. The grounds -were extensive, delightfully varied with shrubbery, clumps of noble -trees, lawns opening, here and there, amongst them, flower-beds; and -in one place a considerable expanse of water, on which were swans -and different kinds of wild ducks; and seats were placed around for -leisurely viewing them. - -Parties of the young men were soon found, engaged with bows and -arrows; others having a game of bowls; and others, and amongst them -Thorsby and Dr. Leroy, trying their skill in jumping. Tom Boddily had -pointed out a soft piece of ground where they could jump distances -without hurting their legs and feet. - -“Now,” said Thorsby, “I hear that you, Boddily, are a first-rate -jumper; let us see what you can do.” - -“Well,” said Tom, “it does not become me to jump with you, gentlemen. -I can, it is true, cut out most of the young villagers at leaping; -but it would be presuming to enter into your sports, gentlemen.” - -“Nonsense,” said Thorsby, “I want to see what you can do. I don’t -want to show my leaping, and have you laughing in your sleeve at my -inferiority.” - -“Well,” said Tom, “if master sees us, you will make my excuses.” - -“Of course,” said both Thorsby and Dr. Leroy. - -Tom having stripped off his coat, led the way. The young men were -amazed at the manner in which he seemed to throw himself through the -air, as if he had been an elastic ball. - -“We shall never do that,” said Thorsby, taking a determined run, and -turning very red in the face, but falling a few inches short of Tom’s -mark. Dr. Leroy, very quietly, and without much apparent exertion, -outwent Tom considerably; but the next time Tom flew a foot beyond -this. Thorsby put forth all his strength, but only to find that -both he and Dr. Leroy were hopelessly distanced by this wiry little -fellow. They next tried the cat-gallows, or high leaping. The result -was the same. “There is no chance with you, Tom,” said Thorsby; “you -must have kangaroo-leather shoes on.” - -“No,” said Tom; “I’ll jump in my bare feet if you like.” - -“No, thank you, Tom,” added Thorsby and Dr. Leroy together. “And -hark! what’s that? Why, the girls are singing! Singing, I declare,” -said Thorsby, “in the very heart of Quakerdom.” - -They hurried off in the direction of the sound, and came to where -the large handsome summer-house stood overlooking the garden-wall. -Around it was gathered the greater part of the company, and a chorus -of voices swelled up from the summer-house, singing most deliciously, -Moore’s “Harp of Tara.” - -“Aha! how’s this?” said Thorsby to George Woodburn. - -“Oh, it is a conspiracy of the girls. I believe that Yorkshire young -lady put them up to it. She, my sisters, and Miss Heritage, have got -possession of the summer-house and locked themselves in, and are -enjoying the lark amazingly. And don’t they sing charmingly.” - -“It’s grand fun,” said Thorsby; “look, even the old Friends, who say -they don’t like music, how they are listening. Look even at that old -Silenus, David Qualm, how he is drinking it in as he sits under the -tree there. And Mrs. Heritage,—oh, she is smiling quite forgetfully -at this carnal outburst.” - -“Whist! whist!” said Mr. Heritage, equally forgetting his professed -aversion to music. - -Thorsby jogged Dr. Leroy’s arm, and whispered, “Hear that now!—is not -that rich?” - -The happy holders of the house sang on—a number of Moore’s Melodies -and Burns’s Songs, even “Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,” which was -then very popular, and received loud encores and bravos from the -company below, especially from the Claverings and the guests “not -in the Society” from Castleborough. Thorsby and Dr. Leroy were as -energetically applausive as the rest of them: and when Miss Drury put -her handsome, laughing face out of one of the windows, and said, -“May we capitulate honourably?—that is, to march out with all our -arms”—here the other fair culprits showed a number of very persuasive -arms through the other windows—“with all our arms,” continued Miss -Drury, “and with colours flying?” the applause was uproarious; -the merry girls descended in high glee from their orchestra, and -were received with enthusiastic clappings of hands, and much -congratulatory greeting from all assembled, which was every soul on -the premises. - -Scarcely had this lively clatter of tongues subsided, when another -surprise seized on the guests. From out a walk issuing from amongst -the trees, appeared Mr. Barthe, the eccentric dentist,—but oh, what a -nose! The young ladies fairly shrieked with affright; the gentlemen -stood for a moment dumbfounded; on came Mr. Barthe with a nose of -huge size, and with a termination like a knob of oak. With a most -grave and polite manner, the Friend bowed right and left with a -grace befitting a courtier, and with hat in hand, and then passed -round behind the trees. The next moment a loud and general laugh -broke from the gentlemen, and was joined in by the ladies; but before -it was well over, again Mr. Barthe appeared whence he had first -issued, with another nose still more astounding. This time it was a -huge very green frog; and with the same pantomime he passed along and -away round the trees. The wonder and merriment were in full play, -when a third time Mr. Barthe appeared, now with a yellow-red flaming -beard and head of hair, and a nose—oh! Bardolph’s was nothing to it -for fire and carbuncle. This time, the surprise having exhausted -itself, the applause was loud and unrestrained, and the next moment -the Quaker humourist again appearing in his proper aspect, and with -the fiery beard and scalp and the three noses dangling by strings in -his hand, was received with great gaiety by his wondering friends. - -“My dear friends,” he said, “don’t imagine that these are disguises -that I amuse myself with, or of my own invention. They were the odd -fancy of an uncle of mine, a great woolstapler, well known to many -here. As he rode far and wide through the country, buying up wool -from the farmers in summer, he used to put on one of these noses, -or this blazing beard and hair, as he approached some village; the -wonder and even terror that he excited were very amusing to him. -Boys ran crying—‘Oh, look at that man’s nose! What a nose!’ People -looked in astonishment; but greater was their astonishment when on -returning through the same village soon after, the boys, seeing him -at a distance, would cry out—‘The man with the nose!’ and, behold, on -his coming up his nose was just like any other person’s. I am afraid -sometimes he must have occasioned some boys a beating, or at least -a good snubbing, when they cried—‘Here comes the man with the nose!’ -and the lookers out saw only a very shapely and befitting nose. -Sometimes the women said—‘Poor gentleman, what a misfortune! Hush, -children, you may be struck with such a nose if you mock!’ One woman -greatly amused him: her little daughter was dancing in delight at -the approach of the man with the nose, on the ash-heap by the door, -but the poor woman seeing only a very respectable gentleman, with -no nasal enormity whatever, gave the girl a slap, saying—‘Come in, -little minx, I’ll teach thee to be making thy i—o—oms there on the -ash-midden. I’ll give thee a lection!’” - -Such was the story of this strange man, who in truth very much -resembled the portraits of sentimental and unsentimental Laurence -Sterne; but William Fairfax said aloud,—“George, thou talks of -thy uncle, but wilt thou take thy affirmation that thou dost -not amuse thyself in thy journeys through the country with these -phantasmagoria? What says thy man, William Theobald?” - -“Ask master himself,” said William; “he is of age.” - -“Well then, George Barthe—what say’st thou?” - -“I say nothing,” replied Barthe, amid a general laughter. - -Thorsby was delighted with the fiery hair and beard, and would put -them on, to the great sport of the young people. And then he would -insist on some of the young ladies either putting them on, or trying -one of the noses. At this instant, however, a singular note, high in -a thickly-ivied tree just behind, caught their ears. - -“What is that?” asked a dozen voices. - -“It is a note of a nightingale,” said some one. - -“No, that cannot be,” said Mr. Thomas Clavering, “the nightingales -have long ceased for this year.” - -The sound recommenced and went on. “It is a thrush,” said Mr. -Clavering. “No,—what is it? It is a thrush, and it is not.” - -A loud, clear, warbling again issued from the ivy aloft in the tree. -It was to ordinary ears a thrush, and a very fine one. But Mr. -Clavering, most intimate with English birds’ notes, said,—“No, it was -no thrush; he believed it to be a man, but an extraordinarily clever -one, and where was he?” - -All eyes were strained upwards towards the part of the tree where its -great branches diverged, and whence the warbling came. Nothing could -be discerned. Suddenly the air changed. It was a blackbird, with its -fine flowing notes. Again, and it was a nightingale. - -“Ah! that is the nightingale,” said George Woodburn. - -“No,” insisted Mr. Clavering, “but it is an amazing imitation. Every -note correct. Hark to that—‘jug, jug, jug, more sweet than all;’ -which the printer of Coleridge’s Poems so provokingly printed ‘more -sweet than ale.’ It is most wonderful!” - -But the wonder did not cease, but increased. From the nightingale’s -most impassioned song, the music, or whistling, advanced into notes, -strange, weird, unearthly, into a very triumph and intoxication of -wondrous sounds. - -“That is surely like the music of birds in heaven!” exclaimed Miss -Heritage. - -“What can it be?” continued Mr. Clavering, going round the tree, and -peering up on all sides. “If I were a lad again, I would be up in a -twink, and find it out.” - -One or two youths were throwing off their coats, to mount the tree, -when the droll face of Tom Boddily peeped out from among the ivy, -between the great diverging arms of the tree, and said,—“You need not -climb, gentlemen, it is only me, Tom Boddily!” In another moment he -was seen descending with the agility of a monkey amongst the ivy, -and down he dropped lightly in the midst of the company. All crowded -eagerly round him, to learn by what means he made such sounds. Tom -pulled out a simple lark-whistle, such as village boys use or used, -but without any such magical power. Besides this little tin box, -perforated with a single hole, he produced also a small tin pipe, not -more than four inches long, and by the aid of these, he showed them -how he executed such artistic music. - -“How in the world did you learn that, Tom?” asked Mr. Clavering. - -“I learnt it when I was sogering, sir.” - -“You must have found a very extraordinary master,” said Sir Emanuel. - -“I did, Sir Emanuel; and yet he was but a poor boy.” - -“A poor boy!” - -“Yes, only a poor boy, God bless him,” said Tom, and the tears -stood in his eyes. “I was acquainted with one of our corporals, -and often used to go to his lodgings—there was no barracks then—at -Ipswich. I often saw a poor, very pale, but pretty lad sitting in -the court-yard in a light hand-carriage. He sat there because his -mother was a laundry woman, and could only take him out when she went -with light lots of clean linen to different houses. To amuse himself -he used to play on a lark-whistle and a little tin pipe. They were -these very ones,” said Tom, and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. “I -was quite astonished at the music he could draw out of such simple -things, and delighted to listen to him, and he was delighted to have -me to listen. Poor Freddy! if he had had his health, he would have -been a great musician. Oh! he had such an ear! nothing caught it, -but he could imitate it. He picked up tunes, as chickens pick up -barley-corns, without thinking. And then he was so fond of reading. -He had always some books lying by him in his waggon—and he took such -a longing, oh! such a longing, to be out in the fields, to feel the -fresh wind on his poor thin cheek, and to see the brooks running in -the sunshine amongst the flags and flowers, and to hear the birds. It -made my heart to ache. I knew he had not long to live; he was lamed -by an accident, and the hurt had taken bad ways. The doctors said his -days were numbered. - -“What a shame! I thought, that the poor lad should so long for the -fields, and the winds, and the look of the sky, and the songs and -ways of birds, and had but a little time to enjoy ’em, and nobody to -take him out. So I determined to take him, and I used to go and draw -him into the meadows, and through the woods, whenever I could. And -when my captain was away for some months, I devoted all my time to -take poor Freddy out. Oh! it would have done you good to see what a -joy it was to him. How he would lie and listen by the side of a wood, -and then imitate all sorts of birds, and he would never be satisfied -till he had taught me to do the same. But I was but a poor scholar. -It is since he is gone that the power has come to me—by thinking of -him, I reckon. I don’t know how else. - -“Poor Freddy! he used sometimes to cut me to the quick, by taking my -hand and saying, ‘Do you think, Tom, heaven is more beautiful than -this? I don’t think it can. And do you think we shall feel such cool, -sweet winds, and hear the birds, I wonder?’ - -“‘No doubt,’ said I, ‘no doubt; they have everything better and finer -than we have: but, my dear Fred, you are not gone yet. I hope we -shall have many a pleasant time together yet.’ - -“‘I hope we shall,’ he would say, and then lie and think, and then -perhaps drop asleep: and if ever I see an angel, I know it will look -like that child in his sleep. He did not live out the summer. That’s -how I learnt to play such bird-tunes.” And Tom went quickly away -towards the house. There was many a fair face wet with tears—and some -manly ones, too. - -“That is an extraordinary fellow,” said Sir Emanuel. “He is a real -genius; and he has a heart in his bosom, too.” - -There was a call to supper. But why need we follow into that large -and well-lighted room, where an exquisite repast was laid out. After -that, Sir Emanuel, who had had a fine telescope erected by his own -man on the lawn, showed the young people some of the marvels of the -heavens; and Mr. Clavering showed others the equal marvels revealed -by a microscope of great powers; and Dr. Leroy exhibited, by means of -a magic lantern, views of many celebrated cities and Alpine scenes, -which he had visited in his travels. The Quaker party was a decided -success. All appeared charmed with their entertainment. Even Mr. -Clavering had an opportunity of taking his good-natured revenge on -Mr. William Fairfax, for as he was making a sort of harangue, resting -his hands on a chair-back, and saying, of some things and people that -he was commenting upon, “By their fruits shall ye know them,” Mr. -Clavering said quietly—“But if it should be winter time, and there -be neither fruit nor leaves on the trees, how should we know them?” -Mr. Fairfax suddenly saying, “Farewell!” turned round and went off, -much to the amusement of a group of young people, and followed by Mr. -Clavering’s pleasant, good-natured glance of triumph. - -At the early hour of ten o’clock all were hurrying away from Fair -Manor, in the happiest of moods, and Mrs. Heritage had not uttered a -single syllable of a sermon. - - - - - CHAPTER X. - - THE PIC-NIC ON THE ISLAND. - - -The next morning, at breakfast, at Woodburn Grange, the Friends’ -party was the great topic. All were unanimous in their expressions of -pleasure. “The Heritages,” said Mr. Woodburn, “seemed to have thought -of everything capable of making the evening pleasant. And only to -think of their bringing out Sir Emanuel Clavering so!” Tom Boddily’s -music, and his story of the poor musical child, were commented on -with great enthusiasm. - -“And, my dear Letty,” said Mr. Woodburn, “the Quakers, without -singing, dancing, or playing music or games, do know how to make an -amusing party.” - -“Music and games!” said Letty, “why, we had both.” - -“Yes, that improvised vocal concert of yours was a grand _coup_,” -said Mr. Woodburn. - -“And the noses!” said Letty. “Who _could_ have suspected that odd -Friend of being an actor!” - -“And Miss Heritage,” said George, “did she take part in your singing?” - -“Oh! she denied it,” said Letty. “She said she only ‘crooned to -hersel’’ a little, as Burns says; but I caught some sweet tones -coming out of that quarter every now and then. She has a charming -voice; _that_ I discovered; and I believe she knows more about -singing than she wants to be known. I can tell you one thing—she -is a very sweet poetess. I am promised a delicious little poem of -hers some day, that she repeated to me. These Quaker girls, do you -know, learn off lots of poetry, and the funniest of all—_such_ -poetry!—Moore’s, and Byron’s, and Burns’s—of all things. They have a -poet at Birmingham; only think, at Birmingham!” - -“A gunsmith, of course,” said Mr. Woodburn, satirically, “as they -hate war.” - -“No, a banker. What is his name? Moon—Moon——? something about the -moon.” - -“Obadiah Moonshine, I daresay,” said George. - -“Now, don’t, George, drive the name out of my head,” said Letty. “Oh! -there it is—Paul Moon James. Millicent repeated to me some verses -called ‘The Beacon.’ I did not think them half so good as her own. -But the Friends think much of them.” - -“They are a very extraordinary people,” said George. “I found those -two queer drab servants, Sylvanus Crook and William Theobald, exactly -alike, only one in little and the other in large. They were sitting, -and, of all things, discussing Swedenborgianism. I learnt that -this Theobald, besides being a Quaker, is a Swedenborgian preacher, -but he takes his Quaker notions with him into the pulpit. Instead -of taking his text, Thorsby tells us, he says, ‘Here goes for the -starting-place.’ - -“There was a young, rather conceited fellow, not eighteen, I should -say, trying to make a little fun out of this old man. - -“‘Now, William,’ he said, ‘does Swedenborg tell you what the soul is?’ - -“‘Yes,’ said the old man; ‘it is the real man. This body is but its -covering, just as my coat is the covering of the body.’ - -“‘Do you expect then to rise, William, just as you are—asthma, and -all?’ The poor man is often afflicted with asthma. - -“‘No,’ said he, ‘there will be delightful breathing on the heavenly -plains.’ - -“‘But I can’t tell how all these things are to be,’ said the young, -conceited fellow. - -“‘How shouldst thou?’ said the old man, taking off his cocked hat. -‘Put me the sky into my hat, Edward.’ - -“‘Ay, truly,’ said the lad, ‘that would be a feat.’ - -“‘Then fetch me all the water of the pond there in this tumbler,’ -offering the pert youth a tumbler on a little hand-tray, in which he -had been taking water to some one. - -“‘Well, it just wouldn’t go in,’ said the youth, laughing. - -“‘How should it?’ said the old Friend. ‘The sky is there, and the -water is there, and the love of God to his creatures is everywhere, -but they can none of them get into thy little measures, nor into thy -little head, because these are too little for them. The things are -there, but the capacity to receive them is wanting in them, and in -thee, young man.’” - -“That was a very fine answer,” said Ann. “I like that very much.” - -“This William Theobald is the coachman of that odd man, Mr. George -Barthe, who went about saying such odd things to the young people,” -said George; “and he gave us some curious anecdotes of him, for he -attends him to many great houses. At a great house in Derbyshire, he -says, Mr. Barthe was fastening a lady’s teeth with gold wire, and as -he snipped continually pieces of the wire off, the lady said, ‘Oh! -let a cloth be spread on the carpet, or the gold will be lost.’ - -“‘No,’ said the dentist, ‘it won’t be lost, any of it.’ - -“‘But it must be lost,’ insisted the lady. - -“‘No,’ added Mr. Barthe, gravely, ‘I assure thee none of it will be -lost. It will all be found in the bill.’ - -“The lady smiled, and was silent. At the same place, Mr. Barthe went -into the servants’ hall, and made the servants very merry with his -odd talk. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘why is your master like a penny loaf on -the top of your church-steeple?’ They gave it up. ‘Because he is -high-bred.’ The servants were very merry. ‘But,’ said the dry Quaker, -‘I know now you are expecting that I should leave you something. -Well, I will leave as much money as shall last you till I come again, -if you are careful,’ and with that he fillipped a new halfpenny up -to the ceiling, where it stuck, to the great astonishment of the -servants’ hall. And there it is sticking yet, says our Swedenborgian -coachman, and is shown to all the people that come to the house.” - -“How _could_ he do it!” said Letty. - -“I don’t know,” said George. “The old man said he did not know -himself, but that he saw it done, and has seen it since.” - -“I had a good deal of talk with that Mr. Ephraim Wire. Some wag -said to me, ‘That is the Castleborough Nebuchadnezzar; he lives on -grass.’ I have heard him termed an eccentric of the first rank. He -certainly has some singular ideas, but there is something in them. -In the first place, he wants a reform in the mode of spelling our -words, which, he says, is barbarous. They ought to be spelled as they -are pronounced. In the second, he refuses to eat meat on principle. -He thinks it inhuman to kill animals for food. I bade him recollect -that God expressly gave to Noah, and to all men after him, all flesh -for food, and that our Saviour eat the paschal lamb. Those, he said, -were Jewish customs, and might do for Jews; but we were Christians, -and called to fulfil the perfect law of love. I reminded him of the -preying of all animals on each other, from the greatest to the least, -and that therefore it must be a law of nature, which is a law of God. -‘We are not mere animals,’ he replied, ‘but men and Christians,’ I -reminded him that he could not fully carry out this system, that -every day he destroyed insects by treading on them, and myriads of -living things in water by drinking. ‘That,’ said he, ‘I cannot help, -but I spare pain as far as I can.’” - -“Well,” said Ann, “at least it is very humane and praiseworthy. And -so they call him Nebuchadnezzar, because he lives on vegetables.” - -“Just so,” added Mr. Woodburn; “but Mr. Wire goes further. He had -a great deal to say on the mischievous modes of modern dress, on -ladies’ stays, and even on garters. ‘All tight ligatures,’ he says, -‘impede the circulation of the blood, and injure the constitution.’ -He pulled up his loose trowsers, and showed me that he wore short -socks, and thus avoided the necessity for garters.” - -Mr. Woodburn found much wisdom in what the public of Castleborough -then set down as whims; but we know that Mr. Wire’s philosophy has -now become extensively adopted. At that day he stood alone in it, in -all its branches. - -This conversation was not terminated when Miss Heritage and Miss -Drury were seen coming up the front garden in their riding-habits. -They were received with great gladness. Miss Heritage had lost the -appearance of the Friend, for she wore a black hat with her dark -habit; and both she and her friend looked fascinating. They were -going an early ride, and wanted the young ladies to join them. They -not only accepted the invitation joyfully, but George volunteered his -company, and went out to see about the horses. - -The whole Woodburn family were charmed with Miss Drury. There -was something so bright and frank in her manner and intelligent -countenance; her voice had an animating tone in it. She was, -moreover, so much at home in all the affairs of a farm; though, -unlike Mrs. Woodburn, she did not take any part in the actual economy -of the dairy; could neither make a cheese nor mould a pound of -butter, her father having had her educated exclusively as a lady to -preside in a house, and not to partake in its professional labours, -yet she knew all that belonged to the whole business of farm-life. -She talked with Mrs. Woodburn of all matters within and without -doors, and could give to Mr. Woodburn a most perfect idea of the -style and routine of cultivation in the West Riding of Yorkshire, -describe the cereals which flourished most there, the advantages of -stall feeding, the particular character and value of stock there. -Mr. Woodburn was delighted, and said he should inflict on her a walk -through his farm one of these days, and enlighten himself by her -opinions. Elizabeth Drury said she should enjoy such a walk greatly. -All kinds of country life had attractions for her: even hunting; and -she not unfrequently followed Lord Faversham’s hounds with her father. - -George announced the horses at the door; and the little cavalcade was -soon in the saddle. Sylvanus Crook, who had been the two ladies’ -groom so far, returned home, and George Woodburn took charge of the -whole party. It was a beautiful sight to see those four lovely women -and the manly George Woodburn ascending the road from the house, and -then, breaking into a canter, disappear beneath the trees at the turn -of the road under the sand-cliffs. - -“Nothing like youth, my dear,” said Mr. Woodburn to his wife, as they -turned into the house. - -“Except a happy middle-age, my dear Leonard,” replied Mrs. Woodburn, -“with such good, happy children, and dear friends about us. I don’t -envy youth, but I love to see them enjoying their golden days.” - -“You are right, mother,” said Mr. Woodburn; “I sometimes almost -tremble when I think on the long run of blessings that we have had.” - -“Nay, my dear Leonard,” said Mrs. Woodburn, “don’t imagine trouble -because you are happy; that’s a shadow out of Mrs. Heritage’s sermon.” - -“Perhaps it is,” said Mr. Woodburn; “let us take a turn down the -garden and orchard, and disperse it by seeing how things are coming -on.” - -So the two loving ones wandered slowly from flower-beds to -kitchen-beds of vegetables; and saw what peas, what beans wanted -gathering; how the raspberries were getting too ripe; how the -wall-fruit was prospering; and then surveyed the apple, pear, and -plum trees in the ample old orchard, and decided that the crop would -be abundant and fine. They sate long on a seat under tall hazels -overlooking the country, and conversed of many things, past and -present, and of events connected with their neighbours, and the farms -that lay around; and as they slowly wandered back towards the house, -the shadow was gone, and a calm and sober joy, like that of the day -itself, lay on their minds. - -At noon the young people returned, full of enjoyment of their ride, -and George escorted the two visitors to Fair Manor gate. All were -eloquent in Miss Drury’s praise: her fine figure and easy grace on -Maydew’s back; her light and kindly spirit; her admiration of their -country, and familiarity with everything she saw. Ann loved her more -and more for her love of her church, and of religion, without its -formality. Letty was delighted with a boating excursion that Miss -Heritage had proposed to-morrow, and tea on the great island, with -only just themselves, Miss Heritage and Miss Drury. - -“And,” said Ann—“Mr. Harry Thorsby; you did not mean to omit him, -Letty?” - -Letty was already half way upstairs, to be ready for dinner. - -In the afternoon of the next day, Miss Heritage and Miss Drury -walked down to Woodburn Grange, and said their boat was waiting -at Wink’s Ferry, with Tom Boddily and Sylvanus Crook to assist in -rowing. Thorsby was already at the Grange in high spirits, as usual, -and soon the youthful party were descending through garden and old -orchard to the river. Thorsby and Tom Boddily were to row Ann and -Letty Woodburn, and George Woodburn, Millicent Heritage and Elizabeth -Drury, aided by Sylvanus. This was done, for one thing, that Thorsby -and Sylvanus might not get to sparring on religious points. The -day was glorious, the wind was still, the sunshine lay tranquilly -over the lovely landscape, and the two boats, with a pleasurable -leisureliness, ascended the fair winding stream, amid much talk and -sprightly “chaffing,” as Thorsby termed it, from one boat to another. -The fields, now cleared of their hay-crop, were scattered over with -fine herds of cattle, looking peacefulness itself; the trees on the -slopes, on their left hand, as they ascended, seemed to dream in -their slumbrous foliage. Our young girls came opposite to Cotmanhaye -Manor, and admired its fine situation on its swelling hill, and the -old tower a little in advance on the steeper ridge. When out of sight -of the house, they moored their boats, and ascended the steep slope, -to get a view from the hill. Then, having gazed over the extensive -scenes beyond with many expressions of delight, they beckoned to the -boats below, to advance up the river, and they themselves took a -fine round through woods, and valleys, and past an old water-mill, -half-hidden in its alder-trees. Here they made prize of a quantity -of white and yellow water-lilies, and conveyed them to the boat. -The descending sun warned them to return down the river to their -appointed tea at five o’clock, on the great island under Rockville -Grove. - -Anon, they were landing there, and Miss Drury was in raptures with -that little Fairyland. On one side, the woods of Rockville hung -darkly down the steep slope, on the other ran the crystalline river, -and the wide meadows showed greenly beyond. Abundant willows, mixed -with midsummer flowers, made a soft, verdurous fence round the -island. Its mown surface was like a garden, or park lawn. Already -Betty Trapps was busy there. She had kindled a fire near the upper -end, where a burnt spot evidenced the fact of former fires on similar -occasions. The tea kettle was briskly boiling. Under a large oak, a -snow-white cloth was spread, and upon it showed all apparatus for tea -and coffee, with abundance of bread and butter, plum cake, spiced -cakes, custards, cream, and grapes and peaches. - -Betty and Tom Boddily officiated, and Sylvanus, as of a soberer age, -and a little tired with his rowing, was invited to join the merry -circle which surrounded the rural feast Lively talk and flights of -humour alternated with the emptying and filling of cups. Thorsby -proposed a song, and sung Dibdin’s “Black-eyed Susan,” Miss Drury -delighted them with the False Knight, “I love and I ride away.” -When some other songs had followed, and Tom Boddily had given them -a further bird performance on his magic pipes, “Now,” said Thorsby, -“for a riddle. You don’t know it; for I have just made it.” - -“Splendid!” said they all; “now for it.” - -“What is that which lies down, and stands up, and sails, and flies, -at the same time?” - -“It is a genuine, bonâ-fide riddle, is it,” asked George Woodburn, -“and no hoax, Thorsby?” - -“Oh! out and out genuine,” said Thorsby. - -Nobody could guess it. Thorsby was delighted, and would not tell -it. “No, as it was bran new, it must not be let out all at once.” -Suddenly he said. “Ah! I’ll ask Tom Boddily, he is as sharp as a -needle with two points.” Tom was at the fire, at some distance, -laying on more sticks. Up jumped Thorsby. There was a general titter, -and hands held up in merry amazement—he did not hear or see them. The -next moment Thorsby was at Tom’s side, and propounded the riddle. - -“Did you see that heron?” Tom said, pointing down the river. - -“No, Tom,” said Thorsby. He turned, gazing in vain down the river. - -“But never mind the heron,” said Thorsby; “the riddle! the riddle!” - -“I have it,” said Tom, “it is windmill sails.” - -“Windmill sails!” exclaimed Thorsby. “How in the world could you -guess that?” - -“I read it,” said Tom. - -“Read it! No, impossible!” exclaimed Thorsby; “for I only just made -it. Read it! where _did_ you read it?” - -“Mr. George knows it,” said Tom. - -“Never!” exclaimed Thorsby, running back to the party, whom, to -his wonder, he found in a full chorus of laughter, and the ladies -clapping their hands in delight. - -“What is up?” said Thorsby, wondering still more; “what is the -meaning of it?” And throwing himself down, he said, “Boddily says, -George, you know my riddle, and that he himself knows it, and has -read it.” - -At this the merriment increased extremely, and George, taking a page -of note-paper from Thorsby’s back, which he had pinned there, with -the words largely written in pencil, “WINDMILL SAILS,” held it before -Thorsby’s face, amidst the jubilance of the ladies. - -“Ha-a-a!” said Thorsby, “now I see! That’s where Boddily read it. -That’s why he pretended there was a heron, to make me turn my back -towards him. Well, George, I give you credit for great cleverness; I -hope you give me a little for making that riddle.” - -“Oh, it is excellent—first-rate,” said all together. - -“And now I have another idea,” said Thorsby, suddenly getting up, -and fetching the water-lilies from the boat. Putting these down, -he took Tom Boddily, and soon returned with an armful of flowers, -meadow-sweet, forget-me-nots, like lapis lazuli; and by the aid of -the ladies, and some strings of osier-bark, these were woven into -garlands, which he said they would hang up in honour of this day. -When they were finished, however, here and there interspersed with -oak and hazel-leaves, Thorsby immediately proceeded to crown the -ladies with them. Truly they looked very beautiful, and Thorsby -was complimented on his taste. George, who had quietly gone aside, -dexterously took off Letty’s garland, and put her on one of willow, -in pretence that she was forsaken. Thorsby as quietly plucked it -off, and replaced it by one of forget-me-nots, putting the willow on -George’s head amid much mirth. - -Betty Trapps, however, was indignant at the water-lilies, because, -she said, they came out of deep water, which meant trouble; and, as -for forget-me-nots, “It’s all wrong,” she added. - -“All wrong!” exclaimed Thorsby. “Why, forget-me-nots are most -poetical and significant. Everybody likes forget-me-nots.” - -“Well, everybody doesn’t, for I don’t,” said Betty. - -“Why, you don’t like true blue, then, Betty,” said Thorsby. - -“True fiddlesticks!” said Betty; “don’t tell me about true blue. - - ‘Green’s forsaken, - Blue’s forsworn, - Pink’s the colour as should be worn, - Blue and yellow - The lads will follow, - Green and blue - Will never prove true,’ - -and you’ve got both in these garlands.” - -“Why, that is a new philosophy,” said Thorsby. - -“New philosophy it may be,” said Betty, “but it’s old truth; old -as my great-grandmother, and older, I’ll be bound. It is true as -Scripture, for it comes down from our old auncetters, and has proved -its-sen true, or it wouldna have lasted till now.” - -Betty then began gathering the tea-tackle, as she called it, -together, and sung to herself— - - “How hard is my fate, once I freedah enjied, - Andars happy as happy could be; - I was seized by the forces their fires to feed, - And captain for loss of the sea.” - -“What is the meaning of that, Betty?” asked Thorsby. - -“Meaning? It’s a song my mother used to sing,” said Betty, going on -with her picking up cups and saucers, and giving them to Boddily to -stow away in a basket, “to us children to get us to sleep, and I’ve -cried my eyes out many a time, and gone to sleep sobbing, and dost -think I don’t know th’ meaning on’t? Oh, it’s very cutting, is that -owd song.” - -“Well,” said Thorsby, “I have heard something like it, which I do -understand;” and he sang— - - “How hard is my fate, once I freedom enjoyed, - And was happy as happy could be; - I was seized by the foes their fiat to feel, - And was captive, alas! on the sea.” - -“Oh, get out,” said Betty; “that’s the way such shallow pates takes -the life out of things. Dost think I should iver have cried over such -stuff as that? Why, that is as flat as ditch-water; there’s nothing -cutting in it. Oh! but th’ owd song _is_ cutting! It goes to the -quick; it goes through bone and marrow. It makes cowd water seem to -run down my back when I sing it sometimes o’er my house-work.” - -Thorsby laughed, and Betty cast a most disdainful look at him. - -“Here’s a man, now,” she said, “who goes walking with a stick and -a dog, like a gentleman, and knows no better nor that! But I’ll fit -thee, young man, I will!” - -And here we may antedate our story to say that Betty did not -forget to do it. The next morning when the family came downstairs -at Woodburn Grange, where Thorsby stayed all night, they were -all edified by seeing pinned up conspicuously on the staircase a -memorandum of his which Betty had found—“To remember not to forget to -send my trousers to be mended, ditto, boots.” Thorsby came the last -of all into the breakfast-room, looking very hot, but when the next -person went upstairs, the memorandum had disappeared. - -As our jovial party of islanders were sitting, the ladies in their -garlands, suddenly a boat was perceived coming down under the side of -the island; presently it moored, and two gentlemen ascended the bank, -and approached the ladies. - -“Dr. Leroy,” said several voices; “and,” added George Woodburn, “as I -live, Henry Clavering!” - -He rushed forward to meet Mr. Clavering, and there was a most -affectionate handshaking. Letty and Millicent Heritage also ran -forward to joyously welcome the son of Sir Emanuel, who had been two -years abroad. Ann Woodburn advanced more sedately but cordially, and, -with a somewhat flushed countenance, welcomed their young friend, -introducing Miss Drury to him. - -“Why, when did you arrive, Clavering?” asked George Woodburn. - -“Only yesterday,” he replied; “but I happened to meet Dr. Leroy in -Castleborough, and he was kind enough to come up to-day and tell me -of your water-frolic, and here we are.” - -“A thousand welcomes,” said George, looking very happy, and so said -the ladies. A great many questions and answers from both sides -passed, and Thorsby, springing up, said, “Well, now I declare, that -was prophetic. I thought these garlands were only a sportive freak, -but they were in honour of Mr. Clavering’s return, and they shall be -suspended from the branches of this oak.” - -“A bright idea,” said all the company; and all were up and very busy -suspending the garlands from the boughs of the spreading tree. Henry -Clavering thanked them for the compliment, and the party set out -to return home. The boats were sent up the river with Tom Boddily, -Sylvanus, and Betty, having first put on shore the young people, who -walked through the woods and lanes in abundance of interesting talk. -Supper awaited them, and a joyous welcome for Mr. Clavering from Mr. -and Mrs. Woodburn. As the gentlemen took their leave at night, Miss -Drury whispered to Ann Woodburn, “I like this Mr. Clavering. He is so -thoroughly a gentleman, and, I am sure, so good and sensible.” - -“True,” said Ann, “but, like us all, not without a fault.” - - - END OF VOL. I. - - - BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS. - - - - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR. - - - _Three Vols._ - - MADAM DORRINGTON ON THE DENE. - - A STORY OF ENGLISH LIFE. - -“Round Madam Dorrington’s Dene, country neighbours are sown as -rich in peculiarity as in those which diversified the existence -of Fredrika Bremer’s heroines. The story is full of vigour and -freshness.”—_Athenæum._ - -“We have now to welcome Mr. Howitt as a fiction writer of high -excellence. He has evinced a rare power in the portraiture of his -principal character—the inimitable Madam Dorrington. The characters -of the sterner sex are also admirably drawn. Jeremiah Gould, the -vicar of Westwood, is worthy of Goldsmith.”—_Weekly Chronicle._ - -“Madam Dorrington is a model of womanly beauty, dignity, tenderness, -and truth. There is no female character of modern times worthy of -being compared to her.”—_Sunday Times._ - -“It is English country life in its most charming aspect.”—_Examiner._ - - - _Cheaper Edition. Two Vols. 12s._ - - THE HALL AND THE HAMLET. - -“This book deserves a place in the library of fiction by the village -books of Miss Mitford.”—_Athenæum._ - - - _Three Vols._ - - THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE; - OR, ENGLAND FORTY YEARS AGO. - -“A novel which will be admitted into the foremost rank of our -political romances.”—_Leader._ - -“It is a remarkable book, which refers to eventful times, and brings -some important persons who belong to fact, into the striking pages of -fiction. The lover of literature will admire the eloquent style and -spirited tone of these volumes.”—_Sun._ - -“It is pourtrayed with vividness and truth; the interest of the story -is strong and sustained.”—_Spectator._ - -“Certainly the most important novel of the season.”—_Observer._ - -“Those persons who feel an interest in learning the condition -of society and the state of the working classes, at the period -immediately following the peace after the battle of Waterloo, will -find a good record of it in ‘The Man of the People.’”—_Athenæum._ - - - HURST AND BLACKETT. - - - - - BY MARY HOWITT. - - _Three Vols._ - - THE COST OF CAERGWYN. - - A STORY OF LIFE IN WALES. - - -“A story that must live and increase in popularity as its great -merits become known.... Mrs. Howitt has done for the Principality -what Scott and Lever have done for the sister kingdoms.”—_Daily News._ - -“To construct a novel of a powerful and sustained interest, demands -very high and exceptional qualities, which Mrs. Howitt was known to -possess, but has never exhibited them to so much advantage as in ‘The -Cost of Caergwyn.’ Simeon Hughs is a real creation.”—_Standard._ - -“Enriched from first to last by the grace of writing, and the far -nobler grace of Christian earnestness, that are sure to be found in -everything penned by Mary Howitt.”—_Examiner._ - -“Mrs. Howitt makes you live amongst Welsh scenery and people by the -marvellous fidelity of her descriptions, and the life-like reality of -her sketches.”—_Sun._ - -“The tale is one of unabated interest. It is one of the happiest -descriptions of Welsh life and manners that we ever came -across.”—_John Bull._ - -“It is delightfully written. Its pictures of Welsh exteriors and -interiors are wonderfully life-like.”—_Sunday Times._ - - - HURST AND BLACKETT. - - - - - Transcriber’s Notes - - pg 136 Changed strip along the wood-sides to: woodsides - pg 139 Changed his extensive knowlege to: knowledge - pg 145 Removed extra word to: get thee to to do - pg 206 Added quote after: pledged for five pounds. - pg 228 Changed sprang away up-stairs to: upstairs - pg 246 Changed In summer his cornfields to: corn-fields - pg 280 Changed under those dark eyelashes to: eye-lashes - pg 299 Added quote before: If I were a lad - pg 327 Changed single quote to double quote after: both in - these garlands. - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 1 OF -3 *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Woodburn Grange, vol. 1 of 3</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em;'>A story of English country life</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: William Howitt</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: December 26, 2022 [eBook #69640]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Sonya Schermann, Bob Taylor and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive)</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 1 OF 3 ***</div> - -<div class="figcenter" style="width: 55%"> -<img src="images/cover.jpg" alt="Cover"> -</div> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> -<h1>WOODBURN GRANGE.</h1> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - -<p class="center fs150">WOODBURN GRANGE.</p> - -<p class="center fs120">A Story of English Country Life.</p> -<br> -<p class="center fs80">BY</p> -<p class="center">WILLIAM HOWITT.<br> -<br><br> -IN THREE VOLUMES.<br> -<br> -VOL. I.<br> -<br><br> -LONDON:<br> -CHARLES W. WOOD, 13, TAVISTOCK ST., STRAND.<br> -1867.<br> -<br> -[<em>Right of Translation reserved.</em>]<br> -</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - - -<p class="center"> -LONDON:<br> -BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.<br> -</p> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CONTENTS">CONTENTS.</h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5"> - - -<table class="autotable"> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">CHAP.</td> -<td class="tdl"></td> -<td class="tdr">PAGE</td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">I.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE LAST OF A LONG LINE</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">II.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE FIRST OF A NEW LINE</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_42">42</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">III.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THINGS AS THEY USED TO BE</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_78">78</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IV.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE WOODBURNS AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_95">95</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">V.</td> -<td class="tdl">—BETTY TRAPPS COMES TO NOTICE</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_130">130</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VI.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THORSBY AMONGST THE WOODBURNS</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_156">156</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VII.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE HAY-FIELD FÊTE</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_187">187</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">VIII.</td> -<td class="tdl">—A NICE SAMPLE OF FARMERS</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_229">229</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">IX.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE FRIENDS’ PARTY</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_263">263</a></td> -</tr> -<tr> -<td class="tdr">X.</td> -<td class="tdl">—THE PIC-NIC ON THE ISLAND</td> -<td class="tdr"><a href="#Page_306">306</a></td> -</tr> -</table> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</span></p> - -<p class="center fs150">WOODBURN GRANGE.</p> -</div> - -<hr class="r30"> -<hr class="r30b"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_I">CHAPTER I.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE LAST OF A LONG LINE.</p> - - -<p>Sir Roger Rockville, of Rockville, was -the last of a very long line. It extended -from the Norman Conquest to the present -century. His first known ancestor came -over with William, and must have been a -man of some mark, either of bone and sinew, -or of brain, for he obtained what the Americans -would call a prime location. As his -name does not occur in the roll of Battle -Abbey, he was, of course, not of a high Norman -extraction; but he had done enough, it -seems, in the way of knocking down Saxons, -to place himself on a considerable eminence<span class="pagenum" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</span> -in this kingdom. The centre of his domains -was conspicuous far over the country, -through a high range of rock overhanging -one of the sweetest rivers in the kingdom. -On one hand lay a vast tract of rich -marsh land, capable, as society advanced, -of being converted into meadows; and on -the other, as extensive moorlands, finely -undulating, and abounding with woods and -deer.</p> - -<p>Here the original Sir Roger built his castle -on the summit of the range of rock, with -huts for his followers; and became known -directly all over the country as Sir Roger de -Rockville, or Sir Roger of the hamlet on the -Rock. Sir Roger, no doubt, was a mighty -hunter before the lord of the feudal district; -it is certain that his descendants were. For -generations they led a jolly life at Rockville, -and were always ready to exchange -the excitement of the chase for a bit of -civil war. Without that the country would<span class="pagenum" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</span> -have grown dull, and ale and venison lost -their flavour. There was no gay London -in those days, and a good brisk skirmish -with their neighbours in helm and hauberk -was the way of spending their season. It -was their parliamentary debate, and was necessary -to thin their woods. Protection and -free trade were as much the great topics of -interest as they are now, only they did not -trouble themselves so much about corn bills. -Their bills were of good steel, and their protective -measures were arrows a cloth-yard -long. Protection meant a good suit of mail, -and a castle with its duly prescribed moats, -bastions, portcullises, and donjon keep. Free -trade was a lively inroad into the neighbouring -baron’s lands, and the importation -thence of goodly herds and flocks. Foreign -cattle for home consumption was as <em>striking -an article</em> in their market as ours, only the -blows were expended on one another’s heads, -instead of the heads of foreign bullocks—that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</span> -is, bullocks from over the Welsh or -Scotch marches, or from beyond the next -brook.</p> - -<p>Thus lived the Rockvilles for ages. In -all the iron combats of those iron times they -took care to have their quota. Whether it -was Stephen against Matilda, or Richard -against his father, or John against the -barons; whether it were York or Lancaster, -Tudor or Stuart, the Rockvilles were to be -found in the <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">mêlée</i>, and winning power and -lands. So long as it required only stalwart -frames and stout blows, no family cut a more -conspicuous figure. The Rockvilles were at -Bosworth Field. The Rockvilles fought in -Ireland under Elizabeth. The Rockvilles -were staunch defenders of the crown in the -wars of Charles I. with his parliament. The -Rockvilles even fought for James II. at the -Boyne, when three-fourths of the most loyal -of the English nobility and gentry had -deserted him in disgust and indignation.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</span> -But from that hour they had been less -conspicuous.</p> - -<p>The opposition to the successful party, -that of William of Orange, of course brought -them into disgrace; and though they were -never molested on that account, they retired -to their estate, and found it convenient to -be as unobtrusive as possible. Thenceforward -you heard no more of the Rockvilles -in the national annals. They became only -of consequence in their own district. They -acted as magistrates; they served as high-sheriffs; -they were a substantial county -family, and nothing more. Education and -civilisation advanced; a wider and very -different field of action and ambition opened -upon the aristocracy of England. Our fleets -and armies abroad; our legislature at home; -law and the church, presented brilliant paths -to the ambition of those thirsting for distinction, -and the good things that follow it. -But somehow the Rockvilles did not expand<span class="pagenum" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</span> -with this expansion. So long as it required -only a figure of six feet high, broad shoulders -and a strong arm, they were a great and -conspicuous race; but when the head became -the member most in request, they -ceased to go a-head. Younger sons, it is -true, served in army and navy, and filled -the family pulpit, but they produced no -generals, no admirals, no archbishops. The -Rockvilles of Rockville were very conservative, -very exclusive, and very stereotype. -Other families grew poor, and enriched -themselves again by marrying plebeian -heiresses. New families grew up out of -plebeian blood into greatness, and intermingled -the vigour of their first earth with -the attenuated aristocratic soil. Men of -family became great lawyers, great statesmen, -great prelates, and even great poets -and philosophers. The Rockvilles remained -high, proud, bigoted, and <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bornés</i>.</p> - -<p>The Rockvilles married Rockvilles, or their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</span> -first cousins the Cliffvilles, simply to prevent -property going out of the family. They -kept the property together; they did not -lose an acre; and they were a fine, tall, -solemn race,—and nothing more. What -ailed them?</p> - -<p>If you saw Sir Roger Rockville—for there -was an eternal Sir Roger filling his office of -high-sheriff, he had a very fine carriage, and -a very fine retinue in the most approved and -splendid of costumes;—if you saw him sitting -on the bench at quarter-sessions, he was -a tall, stately, and solemn man. If you saw -Lady Rockville shopping in her handsome -carriage, with very handsomely attired servants, -saw her at the county ball, or on the -race-stand, she was a tall, aristocratic, and -stately lady. That was in the last generation—the -present could boast no Lady Rockville.</p> - -<p>Great outward respect was shown to the -Rockvilles on account of the length of their<span class="pagenum" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</span> -descent, and the breadth of their acres. -They were always, when any stranger asked -about them, declared, with a serious and -important air, to be a very ancient, honourable, -and substantial family. “Oh! a great -family are the Rockvilles—a very great -family.”</p> - -<p>But if you came to close quarters with the -members of this great and highly distinguished -family, you soon found yourself fundamentally -astonished. You had a sensation come -over you, as if you were trying, like Moses, to -draw water from a rock, without his delegated -power. There was a goodly outside of things -before you, but nothing came of it. You -talked, hoping to get talking in return; but -you got little more than “noes,” and “yeses,” -and “oh, indeeds!” and “reallys,” and sometimes -not even that, but a certain look of -dignity, or dignification, that was meant to -serve for all purposes. There was a sort of -resting on aristocratic oars or “sculls,” that<span class="pagenum" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</span> -were not to be too vulgarly handled. There -was a feeling impressed on you, that eight -hundred years of descent and ten thousand a -year in landed income, did not trouble themselves -with the trifling things that gave distinction -to lesser people—such as literature, -fine arts, politics, and general knowledge. -These were very well for those who had -nothing else to pride themselves on, but for -the Rockvilles—oh, certainly they were by -no means requisite!</p> - -<p>In fact, you found yourselves, with a little -variation, in the predicament of Cowper’s -people—</p> - -<p class="fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 8em;">“who spent their lives</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">In dropping buckets into empty wells,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 4em;">And <em>growing tired</em> of drawing nothing up.”</span><br> -</p> - -<p>Who has not often come across these dry -wells of society?—solemn gulfs out of which -you can pump nothing up? You know them—they -are at your elbow every day in large -and brilliant companies, and defy the best<span class="pagenum" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</span> -sucking-buckets ever invented to extract anything -from them. But the Rockvilles were -each and all of this actual description. It -was a family feature, and they seemed, if -either, rather proud of it. They must be so; -for proud they were, amazingly proud, and -they had nothing else to be proud of, except -their acres and their ancestors.</p> - -<p>But the fact was, they could not help it, it -was become organic. They had acted the -justice of peace, and maintained the constitution -against upstarts and manufacturers, -signed warrants, supported the Church, and -the house of correction, committed poachers, -and then rested on the dignity of their -ancestors for so many generations, that their -sculls, brains, constitutions, and nervous -systems were all so completely moulded into -that shape, and baked in that mould, that a -Rockville would be a Rockville to the end of -time, if God and Nature would have allowed -it. But such things wear out. The American<span class="pagenum" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</span> -Indians and the Australian natives wear -out. They are not progressive: and as -Nature abhors a vacuum, she does not forget -the vacuum, wherever it may be, whether in -a hot desert or in a cold and stately Rockville,—a -very ancient, honourable, and substantial -family that lies fallow till the thinking -faculty literally dies out.</p> - -<p>For several generations there had been -symptoms of decay about the Rockville -family. Not in its property; that was as -large as ever. Not in their personal stature -and physical aspect. The Rockvilles -continued, as they always had been, a tall -and not bad-looking family. But they grew -gradually less prolific. For a hundred and -fifty years past, there had seldom been more -than two, or at most, three children. There -had generally been an heir to the estate, and -another to the family pulpit, and sometimes -a daughter, married to some neighbouring -squire. But Sir Roger’s father had been an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</span> -only child, and Sir Roger himself was an -only child. The danger of extinction to the -family, apparent as it was, had never induced -Sir Roger to marry. At the time that we -are turning our attention upon him, he had -reached the mature age of sixty. Nobody -believed that Sir Roger now would marry; -he was the last, and likely to be, of his line.</p> - -<p>It is worth while here to take a glance at -Sir Roger and his estate. They exhibited a -strange contrast. The one bore all the signs -of progress, the other of a stereotyped feudality. -The estate, which in the days of the -first Sir Roger de Rockville had been half -morass and three-quarters wilderness, was -now cultivated to the pitch of British agricultural -science. The marsh lands beyond -the river were one splendid expanse of richest -meadows, yielding a rental of four solid -pounds per acre. Over hill and dale on this -side for miles, where formerly ran wild deer, -and grew wild woodlands or furze-bushes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</span> -now lay excellent farms and hamlets, and -along the ridge of the ancient cliffs rose the -most magnificent woods. Woods, too, clothed -the steep hill-sides, and swept down to the -noble river, their very boughs hanging far out -over its clear and rapid waters. In the midst -of these fine woods stood Rockville Hall, the -family seat of the Rockvilles. It reared its -old brick walls over the towering mass of -elms, and travellers at a distance recognised -it for what it was—the mansion of an ancient -and wealthy family.</p> - -<p>The progress of England in arts, science, -commerce, and manufactures, had carried Sir -Roger’s estate along with it. It was full of -active and moneyed farmers, and flourished -under modern influences. How lucky it -would have been for the Rockville family had -it done the same!</p> - -<p>But amid this estate, there was Sir Roger, -solitary, and the last of the line. He had -grown well enough—there was nothing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</span> -stunted about him, as far as you could see on -the surface. In stature he exceeded six feet. -His colossal elms could not boast of a more -proper relative growth. He was as large a -landlord and as tall a justice of the peace as -you could desire; but, unfortunately, after -all, he was only the shell of a man. Like -many of his veteran elms, there was a very -fine stem, only it was hollow. There was a -man just with the rather awkward deficiency -of a soul.</p> - -<p>And it was no difficult task to explain, -either, how this had come about. The Rockvilles -saw plainly enough the necessity of -manuring their lands, but they scorned the -very idea of manuring their family. What! -that most ancient, honourable, and substantial -family suffer any of the common earth of -humanity to gather about its roots! The -Rockvilles were so careful of their good blood -that they never allied it to any but blood as -pure and inane as their own. Their elms<span class="pagenum" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</span> -flourished in the rotten earth of plebeian -accumulations, and their acres produced large -crops of corn from the sewage of towns and -fat sinks, but the Rockvilles themselves took -especial care that no vulgar vigour from the -real heap of ordinary human nature should -infuse a new force of intellect into their race. -The Rockvilles needed nothing: they had all -that an ancient, honourable, and substantial -family could need. The Rockvilles had no -necessity to study at school—why should -they? They did not want to get on. The -Rockvilles did not aspire to distinction for -talent in the world—why should they? They -had a large estate, and a large estate implies -large honour and respect, though the owners of -it be simply cyphers. So the Rockville soul—unused -from generation to generation—grew</p> - -<p class="center fs80"> -“Fine by degrees and beautifully less,”<br> -</p> - -<p>till it tapered off into nothing.</p> - -<p>Look at the last of a long line in the midst -of his fine estate. Tall he was, with a stoop<span class="pagenum" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</span> -in his shoulders, and a bowing of his head on -one side, as if he had been accustomed to -stand under the low boughs of his woods, and -peer after intruders. And that was precisely -the fact. His features were thin and sharp; -his nose prominent and keen in its character; -his eyes small, black, and peering like a -mole’s, or a hungry swine’s. Sir Roger was -still oracular on the bench, after consulting -his clerk, who was a good lawyer, and looked -up to by the neighbouring squires in election -matters, for he was an unswerving tory. You -never heard of a rational thing that he had -said in the whole course of his life; but that -mattered little—he was a gentleman of -solemn aspect, of stately gait, and of very -ancient family.</p> - -<p>With ten thousand a year, and his rental -rising, he was still, however, a man of overwhelming -cares. What mattered a fine -estate if all the world was against him? And -Sir Roger firmly believed that he stood in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</span> -that predicament. He had grown up to regard -the world as full of little beside upstarts, -radicals, manufacturers, and poachers. All -were banded, in his belief, against the landed -interest. It demanded all the energy of his -very small faculties to defend himself and the -landed aristocracy against them.</p> - -<p>Unfortunately for his peace, a large manufacturing -town had sprung up within a couple -of miles of him. He could see its red-brick -walls, and its red-tiled roofs, and its tall, -smoke-vomiting chimneys, growing and extending -over the slopes beyond the river. It -was to him the most irritating sight in the -world; for what were all those swarming -weavers and spinners but arrant radicals, upstarts, -sworn foes of the ancient institutions -and the landed interests of England? Sir -Roger had passed through many a desperate -conflict with them for the return of members -to parliament. They brought forward men -that were utter wormwood to all his feelings,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</span> -and they paid no more respect to him and his -friends on such occasions than they did to -the meanest creature living. Reverence for -ancient blood did not exist in that plebeian -and rapidly multiplying tribe. There were -master manufacturers there actually that -looked and talked as big as himself, and, <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">entre -nous</i>, talked a vast deal more cleverly. The -people talked of rights and franchises, and -freedom of speech and of conscience, in a -way that was really frightful.</p> - -<p>Then they were given most inveterately to -running out in whole and everlasting crowds -on Sundays and holidays into the fields and -woods; and as there was no part of the -neighbourhood half so pleasant as the groves -and river-banks of Rockville, they came -swarming up there in crowds that were -enough to drive any man of acres frantic.</p> - -<p>Unluckily there were roads all about Rockville; -foot roads, and high roads, and bridle -roads. There was a road up the river-side,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</span> -all the way to Rockville woods; and when it -reached them, it divided like a fork, and one -foot-path led straight up a magnificent grove -of a mile long, ending close to the hall: and -another ran all along the river-side, under the -hills and branches of the wood.</p> - -<p>Oh, delicious were those woods! In the -river there were islands, which were covered -in summer with the greenest grass, and the -freshest of willows, and the clearest of waters -rushed around them in the most inviting -manner imaginable. And there were numbers -of people extremely ready to accept this -delectable invitation of these waters. There -they came in fine weather, and as these -islands were only separated from the mainland -by a little and very shallow stream, it -was delightful for lovers to get across, with -laughter, and treading on stepping-stones, -and slipping off the stepping-stones up to -the ankles into the cool brook, with pretty -screams and fresh laughter, and then landing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</span> -on those sunny, and to them, really enchanted -islands.</p> - -<p>And then came fishermen: solitary fishermen, -and fishermen in rows; fishermen -lying in the flowery grass, with fragrant -meadow-sweet and honey-breathing clover -all about their ears; and fishermen standing -in file, as if they were determined to clear all -the river of fish in a day. And there were -other lovers, and troops of loiterers, and -shouting roysterers, going along under the -boughs of the wood, and following the turns -of that most companionable of rivers. And -there were boats going up and down; boats -full of young people, all holiday finery and -mirth, and boats with duck-hunters, and -others, in Sir Roger’s eyes, detestable marauders, -with guns and dogs and great -bottles of beer. In the fine grove, on summer-days, -there might be found hundreds of -people. There were pic-nic parties, fathers -and mothers, with whole families of children,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</span> -and a grand promenade of the delighted -artizans and their wives or sweethearts.</p> - -<p>In the times prior to the growth, rapid -yet steady, of the neighbouring town, Great -Castleborough, and to the simultaneous development -of the love-of-nature principle -in the Castleburghians, nothing had been -thought of all these roads. The roads were -well enough till they led to these inroads. -Then Sir Roger aroused himself. This -must be changed. The roads must be -stopped. Nothing was easier to his fancy. -His fellow justices, Sir Benjamin Bullockshed -and Squire Sheepshank, had asked -his aid to stop the like nuisances, and it -had been done at once. So Sir Roger put -up notices all about, that the roads were to -be stopped by an Order of Session, and these -notices were signed, as required by law, by -their worships of Bullockshed and Sheepshank. -But Sir Roger soon found that it -was one thing to stop a road leading from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</span> -One-man-town to Lonely Lodge, and another -to attempt to stop those leading from Great -Castleborough to Rockville.</p> - -<p>On the very first Sunday after the exhibition -of those notice-boards, there was a ferment in -the Grove of Rockville, as if all the bees in -the county were swarming there, and all the -wasps and hornets to boot. Great crowds -were collected before each of these obnoxious -placards, and the amount of curses vomited -forth against them was really shocking for -any day, but more especially for a Sunday. -Presently there was a rush at them; they -were torn down, and simultaneously pitched -into the river. There were great crowds -swarming all about Rockville all that day, -and the next, being St. Monday, with looks -so defiant, that Sir Roger more than once -contemplated sending off for the Yeomanry -Cavalry to defend his house, which he -seriously thought in danger.</p> - -<p>But so far from being intimidated from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</span> -proceeding, this demonstration only made Sir -Roger the more determined. To have so -desperate and irreverent a population coming -about his house and woods, now presented -itself in a much more formidable aspect -than ever. So, next day, not only were the -placards once more hoisted, but rewards -offered for the discovery of the offenders, -attended with all the maledictions of the -insulted majesty of the law. No notice was -taken of this; but the whole of Great Castleborough -was in a buzz and an agitation. -There were posters plastered all over the -walls of the town, four times as large as -Sir Roger’s notices, in this style:—</p> - -<p>“Englishmen! Your dearest rights are -menaced! The woods of Rockville, your -ancient, rightful, and enchanting resort, are -to be closed to you. Castleburghians, the -eyes of the world are upon you. ‘Awake! -arise! or be for ever fallen!’ England -expects every man to do his duty! And<span class="pagenum" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</span> -your duty is to resist and defy the grasping -soil-lords, to seize on your ancient patrimony!”</p> - -<p>“Patrimony! Ancient and rightful resort -of Rockville!” Sir Roger was astounded at -the audacity of this upstart plebeian race. -What! they actually claimed Rockville, the -heritage of a hundred successive Rockvilles, -as their own. Sir Roger determined to carry -it to the Sessions; and at the Sessions was a -magnificent muster of all his friends. There -was Sir Roger himself in the chair; and on -either hand a prodigious row of country -squirearchy. There was Sir Benjamin Bullockshed, -and Sir Thomas Tenterhook, and -all the squires—Sheepshank, Ramsbottom, -Turnbull, Otterbrook, and Swagsides. The -clerk of the Sessions read the notice for the -closing of all the foot-paths through the -woods of Rockville, and declared that this -notice had been duly, and for the required -period, publicly posted. The Castleburghians<span class="pagenum" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</span> -protested by their able lawyer, Dare Deville, -against any order for the closing of these -ancient woods—the inestimable property of -the public.</p> - -<p>“Property of the public!” exclaimed Sir -Roger. “Property of the public!” echoed -the multitudinous voices of indignant Bullocksheds, -Tenterhooks, and Ramsbottoms. -“Why, sir, do you dispute the right of Sir -Roger Rockville to his own estate?”</p> - -<p>“By no means,” replied the undaunted -Dare Deville; “the estate of Rockville is -unquestionably the property of the honourable -baronet, Sir Roger Rockville; but the -roads through it are as unquestionably the -property of the public.”</p> - -<p>The whole bench looked at itself; that is, -at each other, in wrathful astonishment. -The swelling in the diaphragms of the squires -of Otterbrook, Turnbull, and Swagsides, and -all the rest of the worshipful row, was too -big for utterance. Only Sir Roger himself<span class="pagenum" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</span> -burst forth with an abrupt—“Impudent -fellow! But I’ll see him —— first!”</p> - -<p>“Grant the order!” said Sir Benjamin -Bullockshed; and the whole bench nodded -assent. The able lawyer Dare Deville retired -with a pleasant smile. He saw an agreeable -prospect of plenty of grist to his mill. Sir -Roger was rich, and so was Great Castleborough. -He rubbed his hands not in the -least like a man defeated, and thought to -himself—“Let them go at it—all right.”</p> - -<p>The next day the placards on the Rockville -estate were changed for others, bearing, -“<span class="smcap">Stopped by order of Sessions!</span>” and alongside -of them were huge carefully painted -boards, denouncing on all trespassers prosecutions -according to law. The same evening -came a prodigious invasion of Castleburghians, -who tore down all the boards and placards, -and carried them on their shoulders to Great -Castleborough, singing as they went, “See -the Conquering Heroes come!” They set<span class="pagenum" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</span> -them up in the centre of the Castleborough -market-place, and burnt them along with an -effigy of Roger Rockville.</p> - -<p>This was grist at once to the mill of the -able lawyer Dare Deville. He looked on and -rubbed his hands. Warrants were speedily -issued by the baronets of Bullockshed and -Tenterhook, for the apprehension of the individuals -who had been seen carrying off the -notice-boards, for larceny; and against a -number of others for trespass, and for aiding -and abetting. There was plenty of work for -Dare Deville and his brethren of the robe; -but it all ended, after the flying about of -sundry mandamuses and assize trials, in Sir -Roger finding that though Rockville was his, -the roads through it were the public’s.</p> - -<p>As Sir Roger drove homewards from the -assize, which finally settled the question of -those foot-paths, he heard the bells in all the -steeples of Great Castleborough burst forth -with a grand peal of triumph. He closed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</span> -the windows of his fine old carriage, and -sunk into a corner: but he could not drown -the intolerable sound. “But,” said he, “I’ll -stop their pic-nicing. I’ll stop their fishing. -I’ll have hold of them for trespassing and -poaching!” There was war henceforth between -Rockville and Great Castleborough.</p> - -<p>On the next Sunday there came literally -thousands of the jubilant Castleburghians to -Rockville. They had brought baskets and -wine for dining and drinking success to all -foot-paths. But in the great grove there -were keepers and watchers, who warned them -to keep the path, that narrow, well-worn line -up the middle of the grove. “What! were -they not to sit on the grass?” “No.” -“What! were they not to pic-nic?” “No; -not there!”</p> - -<p>The Castleburghians felt a sudden damp -on their spirits. But the river-bank! The -cry was “to the river-bank! There they -<em>would</em> pic-nic!” The crowd rushed away<span class="pagenum" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</span> -down the wood; but there they found a -whole regiment of watchers, who pointed -again to the narrow line of foot-path, and -told them not to trespass beyond it. But the -islands! They went over to the islands. -There, too, were Sir Roger’s forces, who -warned them back. There was no road -there—all found there would be trespassers, -and be duly punished.</p> - -<p>The Castleburghians discovered that their -triumph was not quite so complete as they -had flattered themselves. The foot-paths -were theirs, but that was all. Their ancient -licence was at an end. If they came there, -there was no more fishing; if they came in -crowds, there was no more pic-nicing; if -they walked through the woods in numbers, -they must keep to Indian file, or they were -summoned before the county magistrates for -trespass and were soundly fined; and not -even the able Dare Deville would undertake -to defend them.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</span></p> - -<p>The Castleburghians were chop-fallen, but -they were angry and dogged; and they -thronged up to the village, and the front of -the hall. They filled the little inn in the -hamlet—they went by scores, and roving all -over the churchyard, read epitaphs—</p> - -<p class="center fs80"> -“That teach the rustic moralists to die,”<br> -</p> - -<p>but don’t teach them to give up their old -indulgences very good-humouredly. They -went and sat in a row on the old churchyard-wall, -opposite to the very windows of -the irate Sir Roger. They felt themselves -beaten, and Sir Roger felt himself beaten. -True, he could coerce them to the foot-path—but, -then, they had the foot-paths: yet, on -the other hand, the pic-nicing, and the -fishing, and the islands! The Castleburghians -were full of sullen wrath, and Sir Roger -was—oh, most expressive old Saxon phrase—<span class="smcap">Hairsore</span>! -Yes, he was one universal -wound of vexation and jealousy of his rights.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</span> -Every hair in his body was like a pin sticking -in him. Come within a dozen yards -of him; nay, at the most, blow on him, and -he was excruciated—you rubbed his sensitive -hairs at a furlong’s distance.</p> - -<p>The next Sunday the people found the -churchyard locked up, except during service, -when beadles walked there, and desired them -not to loiter and disturb the congregation, -closing the gates and showing them out -like a flock of sheep the moment the service -was over. This was fuel to the already -boiling blood of Castleborough. The week -following, what was their astonishment to -find the much frequented, the charming -little rustic inn gone. It was actually gone! -not a trace of it; but the spot where it had -stood for ages, turfed, planted with young -spruce trees, and fenced off with post and -rail. The exasperated people now launched -forth an immensity of fulminations against -the churl, Sir Roger; and a certain number<span class="pagenum" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</span> -of them resolved to come and seat themselves -in the street of the hamlet and there -dine; but a terrific thunderstorm, which -seemed in league with Sir Roger, soon -routed them, drenched them through, and -on attempting to seek shelter in the cottages, -the poor people said they were very sorry, -but it was as much as their holdings were -worth, and they dare not admit them.</p> - -<p>Sir Roger had triumphed! It was all -over with the old delightful days at Rockville. -There was an end of pic-nicing, of -fishing, of roving in the islands. One sturdy -disciple of Izaak Walton, indeed, dared to -fling a line from the banks of Rockville -Grove, but Sir Roger himself came upon him, -and endeavoured to seize him. The man -coolly walked into the middle of the river, -and without a word continued his fishing.</p> - -<p>“Get out there!” exclaimed Sir Roger, -“that is still on my property.” The man -waded through the river to the other bank,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</span> -where he knew that the land was rented by -a farmer. “Give over!” shouted Sir Roger. -“I tell you the water is mine!”</p> - -<p>“Then,” said the fellow, “bottle it up, -and be-hanged to you! Don’t you see it is -all running away to Castleborough?”</p> - -<p>The story was carried by the man to the -town, and occasioned a good laugh, and -many a time when Sir Roger appeared in the -place, he was greeted with—“Why don’t you -bottle up the Trent?” But the joke did -not compensate for a tittle of what was lost: -there was bad blood between Rockville and -Castleborough as a settled condition. Castleborough -was incensed, and Sir Roger was -hairsore.</p> - -<p>A new nuisance sprang up. The people -of Castleborough looked on the cottagers of -Rockville as sunk in the deepest darkness -under Sir Roger, and his cousin the vicar, -who had seconded, and it was believed had -instigated the baronet to a great portion of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</span> -these proceedings. They could not pic-nic, -but they thought they could hold a camp-meeting. -They could not fish for roach, but -they thought they might for souls. Accordingly, -there assembled crowds of Castleburghians -on the green of Rockville, with a -chair and a table, and a preacher with his -head bound in a red handkerchief; and soon -there was a sound of hymns, and a zealous -call to come out of the darkness of Babylon. -But this was more than Sir Roger could -bear; he rushed forth with all his servants, -keepers, and cottagers, overthrew the table, -and routing the assembly, chased them to -the boundary of his estate.</p> - -<p>The discomfited Castleburghians now fulminated -awful judgments on the unhappy -Sir Roger, as a persecutor and malignant. -They dared not enter again on his park, but -they came to the very verge of it, and held -weekly meetings on the highway, in which -they sang and declaimed as loudly as possible,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</span> -that the winds might bear their voices to Sir -Roger’s ears.</p> - -<p>To such a condition was now reduced the -last of the long line of Rockville. The spirit -of a policeman had taken possession of him; -he had keepers and watchers out on all sides, -but that did not satisfy him. He was perpetually -haunted with the idea that poachers -were after his game; that trespassers were -in his woods. His whole life was now spent -in strolling to and fro in his fields and plantations, -and in prowling along his river-side. -He looked under hedges, and watched for -long hours under forest trees. If any one -had a curiosity to see Sir Roger, they had -only to enter his fields by the wood side, -and wander a few yards from the path, and -he was almost sure to spring out over the -hedge, and in hurried and angry, almost -stammering tones, demand their name and -address. The descendant of the chivalrous -and steel-clad De Rockvilles was sunk into<span class="pagenum" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</span> -a restless spy on his own ample property. -There was but one idea in his mind—encroachment. -It was destitute of all other -furniture but the musty technicalities of -warrants and commitments. There was a -stealthy and skulking manner in everything -he did. He went to church on Sunday, but -it was no longer by the grand iron-gate -opposite to his house,—that stood generally -with a large spider’s web woven over the -lock, and several others in the corners of the -fine iron tracery, bearing evidence of the -long period since it had been opened. How -different to the time when Sir Roger and -Lady Rockville had had these gates thrown -wide on Sunday morning, and with all their -train of household servants at their back, -with true antique dignity, marched, with -much proud humility, into the house of God. -Now, Sir Roger—the solitary, suspicious, undignified -Sir Roger, the keeper and policeman -of his own property—stole in at a little<span class="pagenum" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</span> -side-gate from his paddock, and back the -same way, wondering all the time whether -there was not somebody in his pheasant -preserves, or Sunday trespassers in his -grove.</p> - -<p>If you entered his house, it gave you as -cheerless a feeling as its owner. There was -a conservatory, so splendid with rich plants -and flowers in his mother’s time, now a dusty -receptacle of hampers, broken hand-glasses -and garden tools. These tools could never -be used, for the gardens had grown wild. -Tall grass grew in the walks, and the huge -unpruned shrubs disputed the passage with -you. In the wood above the gardens, -reached by several flights of fine, but now -moss-grown steps, there stood a pavilion, -which had once clearly been very beautiful. -It was now damp and ruinous—its walls -covered with greenness and crawling insects. -It was a great lurking place of Sir Roger, -when on the watch for poachers.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</span></p> - -<p>The line of the Rockvilles was evidently -running fast out. It had reached the extremity -of imbecility and contempt—it must -soon reach its close.</p> - -<p>Sir Roger used to make his regular annual -visit to town; but of late, when there he had -wandered restlessly about the streets peeping -into the shop-windows: and if it rained, he -would stand under an entry for hours, waiting -till it was gone over, rather than take a -cab or omnibus. The habit of lurking and -peering about was become fixed, and his feet -bore him instinctively into those narrow and -crowded alleys where swarm the poachers of -the city—the trespassers and anglers in the -game preserves and streams of humanity. -He had lost all pleasure in his club; the -most exciting themes of political life retained -no piquancy for him. His old friends ceased -to find any pleasure in him. He was become -the driest of all dry wells. Poachers, and -anglers, and Methodists, haunted the wretched<span class="pagenum" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</span> -purlieus of his fast fading-out mind, and he -resolved to go to town no more. His whole -nature was centred in his woods. He was -for ever on the watch; and when at Rockville -again, if he heard a door clap when in -bed, he thought it a gun in his woods; and -was up and out with his keepers.</p> - -<p>Of what value was that magnificent estate -to him? those superb woods; those finely-hanging -cliffs; that clear and <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">riante</i> river, -careering, travelling on, and taking a noble -sweep below his window; that glorious expanse -of most verdant meadows, stretching -almost to Castleborough, and enlivened by -numerous herds of the most beautiful cattle; -those old farms and shady lanes overhung -with hazel and wild rose; the glittering -brook, and the songs of woodland birds—what -were they to that worn-out old man, -that victim to the delusive doctrine of -blood, that man-trap, of an hereditary -name?</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</span></p> - -<p>There the poet could come and feel the -presence of divinity in that noble scene, and -hear sublime whispers in the trees, and create -new heavens and new earths from the glorious -charms of nature around him, and in -one short hour live an empyrean of celestial -life and love. There could come the very -humblest children of the plebeian town, and -feel a thrill of exquisite delight pervade their -bosoms at the sight of the very flowers on -the sod, and see heaven in the infinite blue -above them. And poor Sir Roger, the -holder, but not the possessor of all, walked -only in a region of sterility, with no sublimer -ideas than poachers and trespassers—no more -rational enjoyment than the brute indulgence -of hunting like a ferret, and seizing his -fellow-men like a bulldog. He was a -specimen of human nature degenerated; -retrograded from the divine to the -bestial, through the long-operating influences -of false notions, and institutions continued<span class="pagenum" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</span> -beyond their time. He had only -the soul of a keeper. Had he been -only a keeper he had been a much happier -man.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_II">CHAPTER II.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE FIRST OF A NEW LINE.</p> - - -<p>In Great Castleborough there lived a race -of paupers. From the year of the 42nd of -Elizabeth, or 1601, down to the present -generation, this race maintained an uninterrupted -descent. Like that of many a more -worldly-favoured race, theirs was a descent; -it had nothing of an ascent in it. But that is -the fate of ancestry. A man on some particular -occasion ascends; makes himself a mark -in his time; perhaps a name in the world’s -annals, and from him his family <em>descends</em>.</p> - -<p>The expression is perfectly correct; as the -heralds truly have it; it descends, fades out, -and is gone. It has lived? no, continued, a -thousand years perhaps; it has descended,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</span> -and prided itself on descending. That was -the case of the Rockvilles; and when we -hear of families and persons illustriously or -honourably descended, we hear an internal -echo which says, “Yes—descended.” The -truly great man <em>ascends</em> from his ancestors.</p> - -<p>There was a steady and unbroken line of -paupers in Great Castleborough, as the parish -books testify. No families had a more unquestionable -pedigree. There was no flaw, -no dubious spot in it. The parish books were -the red-books of this race. No genealogy -could bear a more rigid scrutiny than theirs. -From generation to generation their demands -on the parish funds stand recorded. There -were no <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">lacunæ</i> in their career; there was no -occasion for the herald to skip skilfully from -cousin to doubtful cousin, nor great lawyers to -cast a costly glamour over some delicate -question of legitimacy. There never failed a -rightful heir to their families. Fed on the -bread of idleness and legal provision, these<span class="pagenum" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</span> -people flourished, increased, and multiplied. -Sometimes required to work for the weekly -stipend which they received, they never acquired -a taste for labour, or lost the taste for -the bread for which they did not labour. -These paupers regarded their maintenance by -no means as a disgrace. They claimed it as -a right—as their patrimony. They contended -that one-third of the property of the Church -had been given by benevolent individuals for -the support of the poor, and that what the -Reformation wrongfully deprived them of, the -great enactment of Elizabeth rightfully—and -only rightfully—restored.</p> - -<p>Those who imagine that all paupers merely -claim parish relief because the law has ordained -it, commit a great error. There were -numbers then who were hereditary paupers, -on a higher principle even than hereditary -peers, and that on a tradition carefully handed -down, that they were only manfully claiming -their own. They traced their claims from<span class="pagenum" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</span> -the most ancient feudal times. They were -none of your modern manufactures, the offspring -of wretched political necessities. They -came down from times when the lord was as -much bound to maintain his villein in gross, -as the villein was to work for the lord. These -paupers were in fact, or claimed to be, the -original <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">adscripti glebæ</i>, and to have as sound -a claim to parish support as the landed proprietor -had to his land. For this reason, in -the old Catholic times, after they had escaped -from villenage by running away from their -hundred, and remaining absent for a year -and a day, dwelling for that period in a -walled town, these people were amongst the -most diligent attendants at the abbey doors, -and, when the abbeys were dissolved, were, -no doubt, amongst the most daring of those -thieves, vagabonds, and sturdy rogues who, -after the Robin Hood fashion, beset the highways -and solitary farms of England, and -claimed their black-mail in a very unceremonious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</span> -style. It was out of this class that -Henry VIII. hanged his seventy-two thousand -during his reign, and, as it is said, without -appearing materially to diminish their -number.</p> - -<p>That they continued to “increase, multiply, -and replenish the earth,” overflowing all -bounds, overpowering by mere populousness -all the severe laws against them, of whipping, -burning in the hand, in the forehead, or the -breast, and hanging, and filling the whole -country with alarm, is evidenced by the very -Act of Elizabeth itself.</p> - -<p>Amongst these hereditary paupers who, as -we have said, were found in Castleborough, -there was a family of the name of Deg. This -family had never failed to demand and enjoy -what it held to be its share of its ancient -inheritance. It appeared from the parish -records, that they practised, in different -periods, the crafts of shoemaking, tailoring, -and chimney-sweeping; but since the invention<span class="pagenum" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</span> -of the stocking-frame they had, one -and all of them, followed the profession of -stocking-weavers; or, as they were there -called, stockingers. This was a trade which -required no extreme exertion of the physical -or intellectual powers. To sit in a frame, -and throw the arms to and fro, was a thing -that might be carried to a degree of extreme -diligence, or be let down into a mere apology -for idleness. An “idle stockinger” was then -no very uncommon phrase, and the Degs -were always classed under that head. Nothing -could be more admirably adapted than -this trade for building a plan of parish relief -upon. The Degs did not pretend to be absolutely -without work, or the parish authorities -would soon have set them to some real labour—a -thing that they particularly recoiled -from, having a very old adage in the family, -that “hard work was enough to kill a man.”</p> - -<p>There was, indeed, an anecdote of three of -the Degs which was continually quoted as<span class="pagenum" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</span> -exemplifying the three degrees of extreme -indolence. According to this, three Degs -were lying one fine autumn day under a -neighbour’s pear-tree. One of them, in a -languid tone, said, “There! a pear has -dropped.” The second observed, still more -languidly, “I wish I had it.” The third was -too lazy even to open his mouth to express -such a wish, much less to move and get it.</p> - -<p>The Degs, then, were seldom out of work; -but they did not get enough, or do enough, -to meet and tie. They had but little work if -times were bad, and if times were good, they -complained of large families and sickly wives -and children. Be times what they would, -therefore, the Degs were due and successful -attendants at the parish pay-table. Nay, so -much was this a matter of course, that they -came at length not even to trouble themselves -to receive their pay, but sent their young -children for it; and it was duly paid. Did -any parish officer, indeed, turn restive, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</span> -decline to pay a Deg, he soon found himself -summoned before a magistrate, and such -pleas of sickness, want of work, and poor -earnings brought forward, that he most likely -got a sharp rebuke from the benevolent but -uninquiring magistrate, and acquired a character -of hard-heartedness that stuck to him.</p> - -<p>So parish overseers learnt to let the Degs -alone; and their children, thus regularly -brought up to receive the parish money for -their parents, were impatient, as they grew -up, to receive it for themselves. Marriages -in the Deg family were, consequently, very -early, and there were plenty of instances of -married Degs claiming parish relief under the -age of twenty, on the plea of being the parents -of two children. One such precocious individual -being asked by a rather verdant officer -why he was married before he was able to -maintain a family, replied, in much astonishment, -that he had married in order to maintain -himself by parish assistance. That he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</span> -had never been able to maintain himself by -his labour, nor ever expected to do it: his -only hope, therefore, lay in marrying, and -becoming the father of two children, to which -patriarchal rank he had now attained, and -demanded his “pay.”</p> - -<p>Thus had lived and flourished the Degs on -their ancient patrimony, the parish, for upwards -of two hundred years. Nay, we have -no doubt whatever that, if it could have been -traced, they had enjoyed an ancestry of -paupers as long as the pedigree of Sir Roger -Rockville himself. In the days of the most -perfect villenage they had, doubtless, eaten -the bread of idleness, and claimed it as a -right. They were numerous, improvident, -ragged in dress, and fond of an alehouse and -gossip. Like the blood of Sir Roger, their -blood had become peculiar through a long -persistence of the same circumstances. It -was become pure pauper blood.</p> - -<p>The Degs married, if not entirely amongst<span class="pagenum" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</span> -Degs, yet amongst the same class. None but -a pauper would dream of marrying a Deg, -even were she handsome as Helen of Troy. -The Degs, therefore, were in constitution, in -mind, in habit, and in inclination, paupers. -But a pure and unmixed class of this kind -does not die out like an aristocratic stereotype. -It increases and multiplies. The -lower the grade, the more prolific, as is sometimes -seen on a large and even national scale. -The Degs threatened, therefore, to become a -most formidable clan in the lower purlieus of -Castleborough; but, luckily, there is so much -virtue even in evils, that one not rarely cures -another. War, the great evil, cleared the -town of Degs.</p> - -<p>Fond of idleness, of indulgence, of money -easily got and as easily spent, the Degs were -rapidly drained off by recruiting parties -during the great French war. The young -men enlisted, and were marched away; the -young women married soldiers that were<span class="pagenum" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</span> -quartered in the town from time to time, -and marched away with them. There were -eventually none of the once numerous Degs -left, except a few old people, whom death -was sure to draft off at no distant period -into his regiment of the line which has no -end. Parish overseers, magistrates, and -master manufacturers felicitated themselves -on this unhoped-for deliverance from the -ancient family of the Degs.</p> - -<p>But one cold, clear winter evening, the -east wind piping his sharp, sibilant ditty in -the hawthorn hedges, and poking his sharp -fingers into the sides of well broad-clothed -men by way of passing joke, Mr. Spires, a -great manufacturer of Castleborough, driving -in his gig some seven miles from the town, -passed a poor woman with a stout child on -her back. The large ruddy-looking man in -the prime of life, and in the greatcoat and -thick worsted gloves of a wealthy traveller, -cast a glance at the wretched creature trudging<span class="pagenum" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</span> -heavily on, expecting a pitiful appeal to -his sensibilities, and thinking it a bore to -have to pull off a glove, and dive into his -pocket for a copper; but to his surprise, -there was no demand, only a low curtsey, -and the glimpse of a face of singular honesty -of expression, and of excessive weariness.</p> - -<p>Spires was a man of warm feelings; he -looked earnestly at the woman, and thought -he had never seen such a picture of fatigue -in his life. He pulled up and said,</p> - -<p>“You seem very tired, my good woman.”</p> - -<p>“Awfully tired, sir.”</p> - -<p>“And are you going far to-night?”</p> - -<p>“To Great Castleborough, sir, if God give -me strength.”</p> - -<p>“To Castleborough!” exclaimed Mr. Spires, -“why you seem ready to drop; you’ll never -reach it. You’d better stop at the next -village.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, sir, it is easy stopping for those who -have money.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</span></p> - -<p>“And you’ve none, eh?”</p> - -<p>“As God lives, sir, I’ve a sixpence, and -that’s all.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spires put his hand in his pocket and -held out to her the next instant half-a-crown.</p> - -<p>“There, stop, poor thing—make yourself -comfortable—it’s quite out of the question -to reach Castleborough. But stay, are your -friends living in Castleborough? What are -you?”</p> - -<p>“A poor soldier’s widow, sir: and may -God Almighty bless you,” said the poor -woman, taking the money, the tears standing -in her large brown eyes as she curtseyed -very low.</p> - -<p>“A soldier’s widow,” said Mr. Spires. She -had touched the softest place in the manufacturer’s -heart, for he was a very loyal man, -and vehement champion of his country’s -honour in the war. “So young,” said he,—“how -did you lose your husband?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</span></p> - -<p>“He fell, sir,” said the poor woman,—but -she could get no further; she suddenly -caught up the corner of her grey cloak, -covered her face with it, and burst into an -excess of grief.</p> - -<p>The manufacturer felt as if he had hit the -woman a blow by his careless question. He -sat watching her for a moment in silence, -and then said—“Come, get into the gig, -my poor woman; come, I must see you to -Castleborough.”</p> - -<p>The poor woman dried her tears, and -heavily climbed into the gig, expressing her -gratitude in a very touching and modest -manner. Spires buttoned the apron over -her, and taking a look at the child, said in -a cheerful tone to comfort her, “Bless me, -but that is a fine, thumping fellow, though. -I don’t wonder you are tired, carrying such a -load.”</p> - -<p>The poor woman pressed the stout child, -apparently two years old, to her heart, as if<span class="pagenum" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</span> -she felt it a great blessing, and no load. The -gig drove rapidly on.</p> - -<p>Presently, Mr. Spires resumed his conversation.</p> - -<p>“So you are from Castleborough?”</p> - -<p>“No, sir, my husband was.”</p> - -<p>“So: what was his name?”</p> - -<p>“John Deg, sir.”</p> - -<p>“Deg?” said Mr. Spires; “Deg, did you -say?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, sir.”</p> - -<p>The manufacturer seemed to hitch himself -off towards his own side of the gig, gave -another look at her, and was silent. The -poor woman seemed somewhat astonished at -his look and movement, and was silent too.</p> - -<p>After awhile Mr. Spires said again, “And -do you hope to find friends in Castleborough? -Had you none where you came from?”</p> - -<p>“None, sir; none in the world!” said the -poor woman, and again her feelings seemed -too strong for her. At length she added,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</span> -“I was in service, sir, at Poole, in Dorsetshire, -when I married; my mother only was -living, and while I was away with my husband, -she died. When—when the news -came from abroad, that—when I was a -widow, sir, I went back to my native place, -and the parish-officers said I must go to my -husband’s parish lest I and my child should -become troublesome.”</p> - -<p>“You asked relief of them?”</p> - -<p>“Never! oh, God knows, no, never! My -family have never asked a penny of a parish,—they -would die first, and so would I, sir; -but they said I might do it, and I had better -go to my husband’s parish at once and they -offered me money to go.”</p> - -<p>“And you took it, of course.”</p> - -<p>“No, sir; I had a little money, which I -had earned by washing and laundering; and -I sold most of my things, as I could not carry -them, and came off. I felt hurt, sir; my -heart rose against the treatment of the parish,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</span> -and I thought I should be better amongst -my husband’s friends,—and my child would, -if anything happened to me. I had no -friends of my own.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spires looked at the woman in silence.</p> - -<p>“Did your husband tell you anything of -his friends? What sort of a man was -he?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, he was a gay young fellow, rather, -sir; but not bad to me. He always said his -friends were well off in Castleborough.”</p> - -<p>“He did!” said the manufacturer, with a -great stare, and as if bolting the words from -his heart in a large gust of wonder.</p> - -<p>The poor woman again looked at him with -a strange look. The manufacturer whistled -to himself, and giving his horse a smart cut -with the whip, drove on faster than ever. -The night was fast settling down; it was -numbing cold; a grey fog rose from the -river as they thundered over the old bridge; -and tall engine chimneys, and black smoky<span class="pagenum" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</span> -houses loomed through the dusk before them. -They were at Castleborough.</p> - -<p>As they slackened their pace up a hill at -the entrance of the town, Mr. Spires again -opened his mouth.</p> - -<p>“I should be very sorry to hurt your -feelings, Mrs. Deg,” he said, “but I have my -fears that you are coming to this place with -false expectations. I fear your husband did -not give you the truest possible account of -his family here.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, sir! What—what is it?” exclaimed -the poor woman; “in God’s name, tell me!”</p> - -<p>“Why, nothing more than this,” said the -manufacturer; “there are few of the Degs -left here. They are old, and on the parish, -and can do nothing for you.”</p> - -<p>The poor woman gave a deep sigh, and -was silent.</p> - -<p>“But don’t be cast down,” said Mr. Spires. -He would not tell her what a pauper family -it really was; for he saw that she was a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</span> -very feeling woman, and he thought that she -would learn that soon enough. He felt that -her husband had from vanity given her a -false account of his connections; and he was -really sorry for her.</p> - -<p>“Don’t be cast down!” he went on; “you -can wash and iron, you say; you are young -and strong; those are your friends. Depend -on them, and they will be better to you than -any other.”</p> - -<p>The poor woman was silent, leaning her -head down on her slumbering child, and -crying to herself; and thus they drove on -through many long and narrow streets, with -lights glaring from the shops, but with few -people in the streets, and those hurrying -shivering along the pavement, so intense was -the cold. Anon, they stopped at a large -pair of gates; and the manufacturer rang a -bell, which he could reach from his gig; and -the gates were presently flung open, and they -drove into a spacious yard, with a large<span class="pagenum" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</span> -handsome house, having a bright lamp burning -before it, on one side of the yard, and tall -warehouses on the other.</p> - -<p>“Show this poor woman and her child to -Mrs. Craddock’s, James,” said Mr. Spires, -“and tell Mrs. Craddock to make them very -comfortable; and if you will come to my -warehouse to-morrow,” added he, addressing -the poor woman, “perhaps I can be of some -use to you.”</p> - -<p>The poor woman poured out her heartfelt -thanks, and following the old man-servant, -soon disappeared, hobbling over the pebbly -pavement with her living load, her limbs -stiffened almost to stone by her fatigue and -cold ride.</p> - -<p>We must not pursue too minutely our -narrative. Mrs. Deg was engaged to do the -washing and getting up of Mr. Spires’s linen, -and the manner in which she executed her -task, insured her recommendations to all -their friends. Mrs. Deg was at once in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</span> -full employ. She occupied a neat house in -a yard near the meadows below the town, -and in these meadows she might be seen -spreading out her clothes to whiten on the -grass attended by her stout little boy. In -the same yard lived a shoemaker, who had -two or three children of almost the same age -as Mrs. Deg’s child. The children, as time -went on, became playfellows. Little Simon -might be said to have the free run of the -shoemaker’s house, and he was the more -attracted thither by the shoemaker’s birds, -and his flute, on which he often played when -his work was done.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Deg took a great liking to the shoemaker: -and he and his wife, a quiet, kind-hearted -woman, were almost all the acquaintances -that she cultivated. She had found -out her husband’s parents; but they were -not of a description that at all pleased her. -They were old and infirm, but they were of -the true pauper breed, a sort of persons whom<span class="pagenum" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</span> -Mrs. Deg had been taught to avoid and to -despise. They looked on her as a sort of -second parish, and insisted that she should -come and live with them, and help to -maintain them out of her earnings. But -Mrs. Deg would rather that her little boy -had died than have been familiarised with -the spirit of these old people. Despise them -she struggled hard not to do, and she agreed -to allow them sufficient to maintain them, on -condition that they desisted from any further -application to the parish. It would be a -long and disgusting tale to recount all the -troubles, annoyances, and querulous complaints -and even bitter accusations that she -received from her connections, whom she could -never satisfy; but she considered it one of -her crosses in life, and patiently bore it, -seeing that they suffered no real want, so -long as they lived, which was for years; but -she would never allow her little Simon to be -with them alone.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</span></p> - -<p>The shoemaker neighbour was a stout protector -to her against the greedy demands of -the old people, and of others of the old Degs, -and also against another class of inconvenient -visitors, namely suitors, who saw in Mrs. -Deg a neat and comely young woman, with -a flourishing business, and a neat and well-furnished -house, a very desirable acquisition. -But Mrs. Deg had resolved never again -to marry, but to live for the boy, and -she kept her resolve with firmness and -gentleness.</p> - -<p>The shoemaker often took walks in the -extensive town-meadows, to gather groundsel -and plantain for his canaries and gorse-linnets, -and little Simon Deg delighted to -accompany him with his own children. -There William Watson, the shoemaker, used -to point out to the children the beauty of the -flowers, the insects, and other objects of -nature; and while he sat on a stile and read -in a little old book of poetry, as he often<span class="pagenum" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</span> -used to do, the children sate on the summer -grass, and enjoyed themselves in a variety -of plays.</p> - -<p>The effect of these walks, and the shoemaker’s -conversation on little Simon Deg, was -such as never wore out of him through his -whole life, and soon led him to astonish the -shoemaker by his extraordinary conduct. -He manifested the greatest uneasiness at -their treading on the flowers in the grass; -he would burst into tears if they persisted in -it; and when asked why, he said they were -so beautiful, and that they must enjoy the -sunshine, and be very unhappy to die. The -shoemaker was amazed, but indulged the -lad’s fancy. One day he thought to give -him a great treat, and when they were out in -the meadows, he drew from under his coat a -bow and arrow, and shot the arrow high up -into the air. He expected to see him in -an ecstasy of delight; his own children -clapped their hands in transport, but Simon<span class="pagenum" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</span> -stood silent, and as if awestruck. “Shall I -send up another?” asked the shoemaker.</p> - -<p>“No, no!” exclaimed the child, imploringly. -“You say God lives up there, and -He mayn’t like it.”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker laughed, but presently he -said, as if to himself, “There is too much -imagination there. There will be a poet -there if we don’t take care.”</p> - -<p>The shoemaker offered to teach Simon to -read, and to solidify his mind, as he termed -it, by arithmetic, and then to teach him to -work at his trade. His mother was very -glad; and thought shoemaking would be a -good trade for the boy; and that with Mr. -Watson she should have him always near -her. He was growing now a great lad, and -was especially strong, and of a frank and -daring habit. He was greatly indignant -at any act of oppression of the weak -by the strong, and not seldom got into -trouble by his championship of the injured<span class="pagenum" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</span> -in such cases amongst the boys in the -neighbourhood.</p> - -<p>He was now about twelve years of age; -when going one day with a basket of clothes -on his head to Mr. Spires’ for his mother, -he was noticed by Mr. Spires himself from -his counting-house window. The great war -was raging; there was much distress -amongst the manufacturers; the people were -suffering, and exasperated against their -masters. Mr. Spires, as a staunch tory, -and supporter of the war, Was particularly -obnoxious to the workpeople, who uttered -violent threats against him. For this reason -his premises were strictly guarded, and at the -entrance of his yard, just within the gates, was -chained a large and fierce mastiff, his chain -allowing him to approach near enough to -intimidate any stranger, though not to reach -him. The dog knew the people who came -regularly about, and seemed not to notice -them; but on the entrance of a stranger, he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</span> -rose up, barked, and came to the length of -his chain. This always drew the attention -of the porter, if he was away from his box, -and few persons dared to pass till he came.</p> - -<p>Simon Deg was advancing with the basket -of clean linen on his head, when the dog -rushed out, and barking loudly, came exactly -opposite to him, within a few feet. The -boy, a good deal startled at first, drew -himself back against the wall, but at a -glance perceiving that the dog was at the -length of his tether, he seemed to enjoy his -situation, and stood smiling at the furious -animal, and lifting his basket with both -hands above his head, nodded to him, as if -to say—“Well, old boy, you’d like to eat me, -wouldn’t you?”</p> - -<p>Mr. Spires, who sat near his counting-house -window at his books, was struck -with the bold and handsome bearing of -the boy, and said to a clerk, “What boy is -that?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</span></p> - -<p>“It is Jenny Deg’s,” was the answer.</p> - -<p>“Ha! that boy! Zounds! how boys do -grow! Why, that’s the child that Jenny -Deg was carrying when she came to Castleborough, -and what a strong, handsome, -bright-looking fellow he is now.”</p> - -<p>As the boy was returning, Mr. Spires -called him to the counting-house door, and -put some questions to him as to what he was -doing and learning, and so on. Simon, -taking off his cap with much respect, answered -in such a clear and modest way, with -a voice which had so much feeling and natural -music in it, that the worthy manufacturer -was greatly taken with him.</p> - -<p>“That’s no Deg!” said he, when he again -entered the counting-house, “not a bit of it. -He’s all Goodrich, or whatever his mother’s -name was, every inch of him.”</p> - -<p>The consequence of that interview was, -that Simon Deg was very soon after perched -on a stool in Mr. Spires’ counting-house,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</span> -where he continued till he was twenty-two. -Mr. Spires had no son, only a single daughter; -and such were Simon Deg’s talents, attention -to business, and genial disposition, that at -that age Mr. Spires gave him a share in the -concern. He was himself now getting less -fond of exertion than he had been, and placed -the most implicit reliance on Simon’s judgment -and general management. Yet, no -two men could be more unlike in their -opinions beyond the circle of trade. Mr. -Spires was a staunch tory of the staunch old -school. He was for church and king, and -for things remaining for ever as they had -been. Simon, on the other hand, had liberal -and reforming notions. He was for the improvement -of the people, and their admission -to many privileges. Mr. Spires, therefore, -was liked by the leading men of the place, -and disliked by the people. Simon’s estimation -was precisely in the opposite direction. -But this did not disturb their friendship; it<span class="pagenum" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</span> -required another disturbing cause, and that -came.</p> - -<p>Simon Deg and the daughter of Mr. Spires -grew attached to each other; and as the -father had thought Simon worthy of becoming -a partner in the business, neither of the young -people deemed that he could object to a -partnership of a more domestic description. -But here they made a tremendous mistake. -No sooner was such a proposal hinted -at, than Mr. Spires burst forth with the fury -of all the winds from the bag of Ulysses.</p> - -<p>“What! a Deg aspire to the hand of -the sole heiress of the enormously opulent -Spires?”</p> - -<p>The very thought almost cut the proud -manufacturer off with apoplexy. The ghosts -of a thousand paupers rose up before him, -and he was black in the face. It was -only by a prompt and bold application of -leeches and lancet, that the life of the great -man was saved. But there was an end of all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</span> -further friendship between himself and the -expectant Simon. He insisted that he should -withdraw from the concern, and it was done. -Simon, who felt his own dignity deeply -wounded too, for dignity he had, though the -last of a long line of paupers—his own -dignity, not his ancestors’—took silently, yet -not unrespectfully, his share—a good round -sum, and entered another house of business.</p> - -<p>For several years there appeared to be a -feud, and a bitterness between the former -friends; yet, it showed itself in no other -manner, than by a careful avoidance of each -other. The continental war came to an end; -the manufacturing distress increased exceedingly. -Then came troublous times, and a -fierce warfare of politics. Great Castleborough -was torn asunder by rival parties. On -one side stood pre-eminent, Mr. Spires; on -the other towered conspicuously, Simon Deg. -Simon was growing rich, and was extremely -popular. He was on all occasions the advocate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</span> -of the people. He said that he had sprung -from, and was one of them. He had bought -a large tract of land on one side of the town; -and intensely fond of the country and flowers -himself, he had divided this into gardens, -built little summer-houses in them, and let -them to the artizans. In his factory, he had -introduced order, cleanliness, and ventilation. -He had set up a school for the children, -besides an evening and Sunday school for -such as had begun to work in the factory or -the loom, with a reading-room and conversation-room -for the workpeople, and encouraged -them to bring their families there, and enjoy -music, books, and lectures. Accordingly, he -was the idol of the people, and the horror of -the old school of the manufacturers.</p> - -<p>“A pretty upstart and demagogue I’ve -nurtured,” said Mr. Spires often to his wife -and daughter, who only sighed and were -silent.</p> - -<p>Then came a furious election. The town<span class="pagenum" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</span> -for a fortnight, more resembled the worst -corner of Tartarus, than a Christian borough. -Drunkenness, riot, pumping on one another, -spencering one another, that is, tearing each -other’s coat-tails off, all sorts of violence and -abuse ruled and raged, till the blood of all -Castleborough was at boiling heat. In the -midst of the tempest were everywhere seen, -ranged on the opposite sides, Mr. Spires, now -old and immensely corpulent, and Simon Deg, -active, buoyant, zealous, and popular beyond -measure. But popular though he still was, -the other and old tory side triumphed. The -people were exasperated to madness; and -when the chairing of the successful candidate -commenced, there was a terrific attack made -on the procession by the defeated party. -Down went the chair, and the new member, -glad to escape into an inn, saw his friends -mercilessly assailed by the populace. There -was a tremendous tempest of sticks, brickbats, -paving-stones and rotten eggs. In the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</span> -midst of this, Simon Deg, and a number of -his friends, standing at the upper window of -an hotel, saw Mr. Spires knocked down, and -trampled on by the crowd. In an instant, -and before his friends had missed him from -amongst them, Simon Deg was seen darting -through the raging mass, cleaving his way -with a surprising vigour, and gesticulating, -and, no doubt, shouting vehemently to the -rioters, though his voice was lost in the din. -In the next moment his hat was knocked off, -and himself appeared in imminent danger; -but another moment, and there was a pause, -and a group of people were bearing somebody -from the frantic mob into a neighbouring -shop. It was Simon Deg assisting in the -rescue of his old friend and benefactor, Mr. -Spires.</p> - -<p>Mr. Spires was a good deal bruised, and -wonderfully confounded and bewildered by -his fall. His clothes were one mass of mud, -and his face was bleeding copiously; but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</span> -when he had had a good draught of water, -and his face washed, and had time to recover -himself, it was found that he had received no -serious injury.</p> - -<p>“They had like to have done for me, -though,” said he.</p> - -<p>“Yes; and who saved you?” asked a -gentleman.</p> - -<p>“Ay, who was it? who was it?” asked -the really warm-hearted manufacturer. “Let -me know; I owe him my life.”</p> - -<p>“There he is!” said several gentlemen at -the same instant, pushing forward Simon -Deg.</p> - -<p>“What, Simon!” said Mr. Spires, starting -to his feet. “Was it thee, my boy?” He -did more—he stretched out his hand. The -young man clasped it eagerly; and the two -stood silent, and with a heartfelt emotion, -which blended all the past into forgetfulness, -and the future into a union more sacred than -esteem.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</span></p> - -<p>A week hence, and Simon Deg was the -son-in-law of Mr. Spires. Though Mr. Spires -had misunderstood Simon, and Simon had -borne the aspect of opposition to his old -friend, in defence of conscientious principles, -the wife and daughter of the manufacturer -had always understood him, and secretly -looked forward to some day of recognition -and re-union.</p> - -<p>Simon Deg was now one of the richest men -in Castleborough. His mother was still living -to enjoy his elevation. She had been his -excellent and wise housekeeper, and she continued -to occupy that post still.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_III">CHAPTER III.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THINGS AS THEY USED TO BE.</p> - - -<p>One of the first things which Simon Deg -did after Mr. Spires had so indignantly refused -him his daughter on account of his -origin, was to conceive and to carry out a -resolve that, however the brand of pauperism -might attach to his ancestors, none of its -obligations should lie on him. “Let past -generations settle their own accounts,” he -said; “but so far as this generation goes, -there is not a man of it shall say that I owe -the country, or rather this town, a farthing -for life and growth. If my father ever received -a bodle of parish-pay, which I know -not, or his father or father’s father for him, -it shall be repaid.” He went, therefore, successively<span class="pagenum" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</span> -to the committee of the poor in -each parish, of which the town contained -three, and desired permission to search the -pay-books of each of these parishes for the -last eighty years. “Beyond that period,” he -said, “there can be no man living who ever -paid a farthing to the poor-rates.” He did -not conceal the object of his research. It -was to ascertain, to a fraction, what amount -had been paid during that period to any individual -of the name of Deg. His position in -the town readily secured him this opportunity, -and he immediately employed an able -accountant in each parish to trace down, -through the books, items of these payments. -He promised, moreover, to the stipendiary, -or sub-overseers of the poor, a handsome -honorarium, to assist the accountant in seeing -that his work was done completely, and in -aiding him in any difficulty. He himself -frequently attended, and made tests, by going -over certain extents of these accounts, of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</span> -accuracy with which they were done. It -was a great labour, and was not completed -much under a year. But it was accomplished -at last, and the result was a statement of -several thousand pounds as having been paid -to persons of the name of Deg. This amount -Simon Deg paid over with great satisfaction -to the respective committees, and took receipts -for it. The parish officers represented -to him that there was no reason whatever -that he should make so extraordinary a refundment -to the parish, from which neither -he himself nor his father in his own person -could be shown to have derived a penny. -Still more, they represented that Mr. Deg -could not be descended from all the Degs; -he could only have descended in one line, -and from that specific line did he only incur -even the shadow of an obligation to the -parishes.</p> - -<p>Simon Deg replied, that that was true; -but, on the other hand, there was a female<span class="pagenum" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</span> -side to the line, the fathers and mothers of -women who married Degs, and daughters of -Degs who married and passed under other -names, had swelled the account. He therefore -requested to be allowed to pay the whole -account, as it appeared under the name of -Deg; and this was done. He observed, that -he did not wish to dictate in any way the -manner in which these sums should be expended, -but he thought that the whole of -them might with advantage be employed in -extending and rendering more comfortable -those parts of the workhouses where the aged -paupers or the sick were accommodated; and -this suggestion was fully and freely complied -with.</p> - -<p>This act of Simon Deg’s, demonstrating a -feeling of such a profound sense of honour -and integrity, made a grand impression on -his townspeople, and raised him still higher -in public estimation. In the course of his -inquiry he made the discovery that the family<span class="pagenum" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</span> -name was in reality Degge, and had been -thus spelled from the earliest period till within -the last half of the last century. He therefore -resumed the dropped letters, as giving a -greater finish of the name to the eye; and -saying pleasantly that, as he had now discharged -the debts of his progenitors, at least -to this generation, he thought he might be -allowed to take the two last letters out of -pawn. Henceforth, therefore, he and every -one else wrote him Simon “Degge.”</p> - -<p>Not long after his marriage, he bought a -farm at Hillmartin, a village not far from -Rockville. He was naturally of an active -temperament, was fond of riding, and took a -great fancy to farming and shooting. These -divertisements were all afforded him by this -little estate. After close confinement in his -counting-house, he liked to get on his horse, -and ride briskly out of town, over the old -Trent Bridge, and up the winding way to his -farm. Hillmartin was about three miles out,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</span> -and stood on a fine, airy elevation, overlooking -the country round, and from this side -of it giving a full view of Castleborough. -Simon’s farm lay a little over the hill beyond -Hillmartin, and stretched in one direction -towards Gotham, and in another towards the -estate of Sir Benjamin Bullockshed.</p> - -<p>Simon Degge’s purchase of this farm was -a subject of great annoyance to Sir Benjamin, -who was very anxious to have it, as it lay -alongside of his woods and game preserves. -The fact of seeing his pheasants, which had -found a favourite, because a plentiful feeding-place, -on this farm, shot down by Mr. Degge -and his numerous friends from Castleborough, -was, in truth, as great a misfortune as Sir Benjamin -well could imagine to himself. For a -quarter of a mile these woods of his ran along -the corn-lands of this farm. The previous -farmer had complained in vain of the depredations -of the game—hares, rabbits and -pheasants—which issued out of the preserves<span class="pagenum" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</span> -in legions. He was told that he must fence -them out, but the fence was Sir Benjamin’s; -and the farmer dared no more to put a stick -into it to stop their runs, than he dared have -taken a stick to Sir Benjamin himself. His -growing corn was trodden down by the hares -and rabbits; the hares, according to their -habit, cut paths through it, and made playgrounds -in it; the rabbits cropped it as fast -as it grew for fifty yards, all along the woodsides. -What escaped and went into ear was -regularly eaten up by the pheasants. They -sat on the hedges along the woodside as -tame as barn-door fowls, knowing well that -they were under powerful protection, and -during harvest, if a daring waggoner snapped -his whip at them, they disdained to move. -On a fine afternoon, so long as there was -anything to pick on the stubble, you might -see them feeding in flocks of a hundred -together, as quietly as fowls in a barn-yard.</p> - -<p>The nuisance of this great game-manufactory,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</span> -ruinous to the farmer, had compelled -one tenant after another to throw the farm -up. In fact, no one knowing the farm would -take it; they were only men from a distance -who did so, and were in terrible but vain -trepidation when they discovered the real -nature of the game-preserving incubus that -lay upon the land. In itself the land was -excellent, and, therefore, a stranger examining -it, who had not already lived in a game-preserving -country, was readily taken in by -it. If the farmer, on discovering the alarming -evil, complained, the answer from Sir -Benjamin’s steward was, as I have said, -“You can stop the runs in the hedges but -if the farmer did stop them, he found the -stoppage very soon removed by the keepers -in their nocturnal rounds. One bold farmer -had kept terriers to scour the woodsides; -but he soon found his dogs, when they -followed the game into the wood, shot, or -trapped in the iron traps so freely used by<span class="pagenum" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</span> -our English gamekeepers, who are the -greatest and most extensive animal torturers -that the world ever knew.</p> - -<p>The farm, belonging to a gentleman of -Lincolnshire, he had, by the frequent change -of tenants, grown out of love with it, and had -offered it to Sir Benjamin at a moderate -price; but Sir Benjamin, who did not believe -any one thereabout would dare to come between -him and the vendor, was standing out -in the secure expectation of getting it at a -very low figure, when Simon Degge, who was -inquiring for such a farm, not far from town, -heard of it from a lawyer in Castleborough -who had carried on the negotiations with Sir -Benjamin for the owner. This gentleman -was much disgusted with the gross selfishness, -the many delays, and haughty conduct -of Sir Benjamin, and was delighted at -the opportunity of putting the property at -once and for ever out of his power. Mr. -Degge closed with the conditions of sale at<span class="pagenum" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</span> -once, and as the whole of the purchase-money -was ready, in a month the farm was -fully conveyed to him, and put into his -possession.</p> - -<p>The consternation and indignation of Sir -Benjamin on receiving this intelligence may -be imagined. He saw at once that the tables -were now most completely turned against -him. He had no longer a half-informed and -comparatively poor farmer to contend with, -but a young man of great acknowledged ability -and wealth, as well as activity of character. -Instead of telling Mr. Degge to put sticks -and bushes into the runs of the hares, -rabbits, and pheasants, which his keepers -could pull out again, he himself ordered the -fences all along Mr. Degge’s farm to be made -game-tight. A fence, inside the hawthorn-fence, -of stakes about two feet long, which were -driven down nearly in contact, side by side, -was made to prevent egress from the preserves -to the farm. But all this did not<span class="pagenum" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</span> -avail. The pheasants, as the corn ripened, -flew over the fences, and fed freely on Mr. -Degge’s corn. The hares travelled round -and squatted themselves down thickly in the -green crops of corn, grass, and clover; and -the rabbits burrowed under, requiring continually -the stopping of their holes: for -although the rabbits were less cared for by -Sir Benjamin, they were more cared for by -his keepers, who made a profitable perquisite -out of them.</p> - -<p>On his part, Mr. Degge did not trouble -himself at all about a certain amount of -damage done by this game to his crops -along the woodside; for the money value did -not distress him, and he looked on that part -of the farm as a nursery for the game which -he meant to invite his Castleborough friends -in the autumn to shoot.</p> - -<p>But the annoyance to Sir Benjamin and -his friends did not end here. Scattered about -on that side of the country lay the estates of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</span> -a number of squires—the Tenterhooks, Sheepshanks, -Otterbrooks, Swagsides, &c.—who were -of a thoroughly countryfied school. They -were men not destitute of a certain amount -of education, but who had no tastes beyond -those of living on their property, and -being the lords paramount as far as it extended. -To be the great men of their little -ancestral spots of earth; to rule over the -farmers; to rear and destroy game; to officiate -as magistrates, and convict poachers and -petty culprits—that was the extent of their -ambition. They seldom frequented the -metropolis, or mixed in the society of the -more elevated and refined aristocracy. They -formed a circle of society of their own, -looking proudly down on the moneyed men -of the market town, on the farmers and -villagers around them—at once ignorant -of all superior knowledge, proud, and -arbitrary.</p> - -<p>That a man of the manufacturing town<span class="pagenum" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</span> -should have dared to step in, and catch away -a valuable farm from before Sir Benjamin -Bullockshed’s very nose, and, as they said, in -actually gasping astonishment, whilst he was -in negotiation for it, was a piece of audacity -which really took away their breath. It was -ominous of fresh attempts of the kind. The -sanctity of the country and of game was no -longer secure from the unhallowed inroads of -plebeian audacity. Sir Roger Rockville, whose -property also at one point came up to Mr. -Degge’s farm, was in a state of most imbecile -exasperation at this event. The dreaded -manufacturing town was thus already marching -into the very heart of the country; and of -the manufacturing town, the very worst in his -eyes of its odious population. For who was -this Degge? he asked. A pauper, and the -last of a long line of paupers. It mattered -not that Mr. Degge had most fully discharged -the pauper debt so far as this generation was -concerned. To Sir Roger it was only another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</span> -proof of the upstart pride and abundance of -money of this dangerous class.</p> - -<p>The sensation which this shocking event, as -it was called, created in the whole circle of this -squirearchy was visible at the meetings of these -men of the earth, earthy, at their dinner-parties -at each other’s houses, and at their meetings -at the justice-rooms, and their morning rides -to one another’s houses. A feeling of strange -inveteracy was entertained against Simon -Degge. If any of them met him on the highway -as they rode to or from Castleborough, -they scowled at him as though he had been a -most suspicious character. More than once, -when two of them were together, he had -heard them remark to one another—for it -was done loud enough for him to hear it—“That -is that upstart pauper, Degge.” If any -labourer of his could be caught on any pretence, -and brought before them, as magistrates, -he was sure to be handled with the -utmost severity and the least possible modicum<span class="pagenum" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</span> -of justice; and when Mr. Degge went -forward to speak a word in his defence, he -was sure to be treated with a marked contempt, -and even incivility.</p> - -<p>This proceeding did not tend on Mr. -Degge’s part to excite any pleasant feelings -in his bosom towards these lords of the soil; -but he maintained a demeanour of true gentlemanliness -and self-respect. At the same -time that he certainly felt a great satisfaction -in the idea of the sweeping devastation of the -game which he and his friends would make -in the autumn, and which he was sure no -precautions could prevent making its way to -his fields so long as there was a better pasture -there, or whilst he scattered a quantity of -barley on his stubbles, after the corn naturally -shed on them had been gathered off by the -pheasants.</p> - -<p>Such was the state of feelings all round -Simon Degge’s new farm. So far as he himself -was concerned, it seemed only to amuse<span class="pagenum" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</span> -him and his town friends, but to the whole -squiral group, including Sir Roger Rockville, -it was an acute, and promised to become a -chronic condition of gall and wormwood. -Mr. Degge brought his mother to live at the -house belonging to the farm, for she delighted -in the country;—not at the farm-house, for -there he had a bailiff, but in a large old house -at the village of Hillmartin itself, with a fine -old-fashioned garden; and there himself and -Mrs. Degge spent a great deal of the fine -summer weather.</p> - -<p>Simon Degge had also removed William -Watson from his cottage by the farm meadow, -and from his trade, and he was now acting as -a sort of orderly at Mr. Degge’s chief manufactory. -He occupied the lodge, and walked -about, and saw that all was safe, and moving -as it should do.</p> - -<p>There were several wealthy and intelligent -families in the neighbourhood of Mr. Degge’s -farm, who, however, at once acknowledged<span class="pagenum" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</span> -the distinguished merit and virtues of this -young man, and who did not hesitate to call -on him and Mrs. Degge, much to the disgust -of the class of country gentlemen of whom I -have spoken. These, it must be admitted, -had indeed little in common with men of -game and warrants, and did not stand -very highly in their favour before. Let us -see whether they may not present a more -agreeable aspect to us.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IV">CHAPTER IV.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE WOODBURNS AND THEIR NEIGHBOURS.</p> - - -<p>Amongst the families which called on the -Degges was that of Mr. Leonard Woodburn, -of Woodburn Grange. The Woodburns did -not belong to the so-called great families of -the county, but to those of smaller but independent -estate, whose heads were formerly -classed under the name of yeomen. Mr. -Woodburn was the possessor of about four -hundred acres of freehold land, beautifully -situated about a mile beyond Rockville, in -the vicinity of the Trent, and beautifully -cultivated. The house was one of those old -Elizabethan ones with a variety of projections, -pointed gables, and mullioned windows. -The chimneys were of the cross-banded and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</span> -ornamented kind which are now regarded as -extremely beautiful, and, indeed, they had -been thought so a good while ago, for the -father of Sir Thomas Tenterhook, when rebuilding -Tenterhook Hall, had asked the -father of the present Mr. Woodburn if he -had any objection to sell them. A proposal, -which Mr. Woodburn had with true yeoman -feeling of independence, regarded as so great -an insult, that he turned his back on the -baronet as he sat at his gate on horseback, -and in presence of his groom, and closing the -gate pretty sharply, walked into the house -without deigning a reply.</p> - -<p>The present Mr. Woodburn, who had been -the only son, was a man of a liberal education, -fond of classical literature, and more -deeply learned in all the history, both general -and family, of the county, than any other -man in it. Nay, there was scarcely a family -of any note in England of which he did not -possess a knowledge which continually surprised<span class="pagenum" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</span> -you. He had a real love for topography -and family history, which had led -him, as it would seem, insensibly to acquire -not only this knowledge of domestic annals, -but of the titles of almost all the estates in -the county, many copies of which, curious -and important in their way, he possessed; -and this knowledge made him a great authority -in cases of disputed title, and had led -him to decide the issue of several most noted -trials. He had a habit also of noting down -all sorts of curious facts which came to his -knowledge either in the course of his reading -of books, or of the newspapers, or which he -heard verbally. These <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">curiosa</i> had accumulated -into several volumes, which he kept -locked up in his desk, and which he would -bring out occasionally as something of public -interest was occurring, or as something in -conversation had suggested the reference. -A somewhat odd medley a stranger would -have regarded the contents of these volumes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</span> -for amongst public and important facts, -would be found jotted down birth-days, dates -of weddings, and funerals of his family or -neighbours; and even remarkable cases of -prolificness of fowls, cattle, and fruit-trees on -his farm. There was an entry of the turkey, -or the hen that had laid away in the -copse or the thicket, and came forth unexpectedly -with some fifteen or twenty pouts, -or chickens. The tame hawk, which was -reared by George, his son, and suddenly flying -away, became not only wild, but the scourge -of his poultry-yard, by making continual -visits to it, till at length shot, stands in -immediate succession to the history of the -lawyer of the neighbouring town, who, reared -at the cost of the clergyman of Cotmanhaye, -whose shoeblack and errand boy he had -originally been, had grown rich by harassing -the poor people of the country round by all -sorts of vexatious suits.</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodburn was a quiet gentleman, of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</span> -somewhat above the middle stature, now approaching -fifty. He would not at that time of -day have been addressed by letter as esquire, -though every man who is not exactly a -sweep or a costermonger is so now. He -would be written down, however, Leonard -Woodburn of Woodburn, gent., in any public -document, or county summons on judicial -service. Mr. Woodburn might be seen daily -riding on a good sturdy horse about his -farm, and in harvest time he did not hesitate -to take a hand at raking or forking in the -hay-field, or binding after his reapers in the -corn-field; and on such occasions his children -would turn out for a frolic, rather than for -serious work. His harvest done, Leonard -Woodburn shot over his own land, accompanied -by his son George, now just come of -age, and who was treading in his father’s -steps, being fond of both agricultural pursuits -and of the gun.</p> - -<p>Mrs. Woodburn was a fine, large, comely<span class="pagenum" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</span> -woman, who, though as well educated as the -ladies generally of her day, and fond of -hearing books read in winters’ evenings -rather than reading them herself, had her -heart and pride in her house and her dairy. -Churning, cheese-making, looking after her -fowls, her eggs, her calves, and pigs, and -pigeons, her ducks, geese, turkeys, guinea-fowls, -her fruit both of garden and orchard, -storing it up, or preserving it; these were the -great business of her daily life, and afforded -her a perpetual satisfaction. It was a real -delight to see Mrs. Woodburn amid her daily -duties of this kind, with her handsome, sunny, -smiling face, and tall and ample but active -figure, directing her maids, or helping even -in an emergency, or, to instruct a novice, -kneeling on a soft bass, leaning over the side -of the large brass pan, with her fair, full, -and finely rounded arms bared to near the -shoulder, crushing down the curd in the -whey, or crumbling it and pressing it into the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</span> -vat. Or you might see her surrounded by -a large flock of glossy pigeons in the farm-yard, -who had descended from their tower -surmounting one of the buildings to receive -her daily bounty. Not that Mrs. Woodburn -deemed it her express duty to feed any of -the farm-yard creatures; that belonged to -the men-folk, who not only foddered horses -and cows, but fed pigs and poultry, and the -pigeons came down quickly and put in for -their share with the numerous and scuffling -family of ducks, geese, turkeys, and all the -rest of them.</p> - -<p>It was the custom of farm-houses, and the -custom reigned at Woodburn Grange, for the -mistress of the house to receive the profits on -pigs, calves and poultry, with all their eggs, -feathers, or other appurtenances. These were -her perquisites, with the butter, in most cases, -to furnish her wardrobe and for spending -money. It was, therefore, natural that the -farmer’s wife should keep a patronising eye<span class="pagenum" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</span> -on the creatures within her province, and -Mrs. Woodburn thus frequently made her -visit to the farm-yard; saw whether the -pigs were well fed and bedded, and that all -the feathered flocks in the yard, or in the -paddock, or on the pond were prosperous. -The dairymaid fed the calves till they were -ready for the butcher, or to be turned out -into the orchard, where they at first galloped -with cocked tails, to and fro, with a frantic -velocity that made it marvellous that they -did not crack their silly, but joyful skulls -against the trees. For some time after their -liberation from the calf-house to daylight -and freedom, they were the dairymaid’s care, -and Mrs. Woodburn taking her rambles -through the ample kitchen-garden, could -stand and survey the infant herd with professional -and a sort of motherly satisfaction.</p> - -<p>Besides their son George, the Woodburns -had two daughters, the elder one, who was -really the oldest of the three children, was the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</span> -sedate, but kindly Ann. Ann at this epoch was -four or five-and-twenty: of middle stature, -an extremely neat figure; of a very sweet, -serious countenance. Quiet, thoughtful, very -prudent in her disposition, but with warm -and deep, but not demonstrative feelings. -Ann loved music, and played well on the -piano, on which she was frequently called -to charm away the evening hours when -the family was assembled. She was fond -of reading, but not of a very wide range -of literature. She had her favourite books of -poetry and piety in her own room, and had -the strongest attachment to certain authors. -They were those who touched her heart -rather than excited her imagination, and -their thoughts and sentiments were familiar -to her mind as her own thoughts. In the -light literature of the day she took comparatively -little interest, though she was -ever ready to read to her mother what she -liked. Ann devoted herself to the cares of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</span> -the house, but not of the farm. She saw -that the meals were all duly prepared and -served: saw that all the rooms were kept -in nicest order; helped often to make a -pudding or a pie, and took care, if guests -were expected, that all was in order to receive -and entertain them. Besides these -duties, Ann loved the garden, rejoiced in -tending the flowers, and looking after the -bees, which had a large shed, and occupied -several shelves in it with their hives towards -the lower and sunniest corner of the garden. -Such was Ann, quiet, cheerful, loving, and -busy, but never bustling. Every one relied -much on her clear, good sense and loving -interest in them: every one consulted her -in their difficulties, and received from her -almost invariably, the very wisest counsels. -Mr. Woodburn said Ann was like many other -still waters, she was deep, and his familiar -name for her was, “Old Sobersides.”</p> - -<p>The last of the flock was the lively, laughing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</span> -Letitia, seldom called anything but Letty. -Sweet Letty was about seventeen; with all -the vivacity, and eager frank life of a schoolgirl. -In fact, she was that till the other day. -Now, she was the sunshine, the flying, -quivering sunshine called Jack-a-dandy, sent -by reflection from a basin of water over walls -and ceilings in blithest dance. Letty, like -the Jack-a-dandy, was here and there, in the -house, in the garden, full of joy and love of -all things around her; with a face more -charming than beautiful, all smiles and frolic, -Letty was ready to lend a helping hand to -her mother or sister; full of talk and question, -making every one glad with her own gladness, -and ready to take a stroll or a ride with her -father or George, and to astonish them with -the frank, open, genuine expressions of her -young and innocent heart. Everything they -told her of the people or the things amid -which they lived interested her, and any -relation of cruel or unkind treatment of any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</span> -one, fetched up the colour of a most lovely -roseate indignation to her young, pure cheek, -and the warmest expressions of it to her -tongue. Such was blithe Letty—simple, yet -shrewd, loving and light-hearted, the happy -embodiment of ardent and out-blossoming -womanhood.</p> - -<p>But Woodburn Grange was a spot made -for a happy home, for substantial ease and -abundance, not for grandeur. There was -everything there which enabled its possessors -to enjoy the country. A handsome -income; all the rural luxuries of life; horses, -an open, but not a close carriage, a boat on -the charming river below, hearts ready to -love good and intelligent neighbours, and -such neighbours to love.</p> - -<p>The old house stood in its ample gardens. -A low brick wall, surmounted by a hedge of -roses fenced it in from the road, which ran by -from the village to Cotmanhaye, and further -up the valley. A straight walk led up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</span> -to the handsome, ample porch—you could -not enter the garden in a carriage, but must -walk up it,—in summer, amid a glow and -perfume of flowers and a murmur of bees, -and a flickering dance of butterflies, that -was delicious. Around and beyond the house -extended the flower-garden with evergreens, -and here and there a fruit-tree. Then down -the slope stretched the kitchen-garden, with -its tall south fruit wall, with its trellises -of roses and jasmines bordering beds of -raspberries and gooseberries. Its abundant -growth of peas, beans, and all vegetables, its -asparagus beds, strawberry beds, beds of salsify -and scorzonera; its quince and medlar -and filbert trees. Then, below still, stretched -an old orchard, with seats here and there -under its trees, some of the old trees stooping -one way, some another; and at the bottom -ran the Trent, in phrase of Christopher North, -“one of the sincerest streams in England.”</p> - -<p>Tolerably elevated stood the house, overlooking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</span> -undulating fields, studded with cattle -and sheep, or waving with corn, the patrimonial -estate, and beyond them the woods of -Cotmanhaye, and across the river an expanse -of level meadows of some miles in width, -with the ruddy walls of the village of Breton -bounding them. On the other hand, southward, -rose a range of sand cliffs, at the foot of which -ran the highway from Rockville to Cotmanhaye, -and still beyond the cliffs, and the -patches of trees on their brow, rose the country -to the large farming village of Hillmartin.</p> - -<p>Leonard Woodburn, of Woodburn Grange, -though styled but yeoman, had a homestead -which a king might envy, and when Simon -and Mrs. Degge returned the Woodburns’ -call, they could not sufficiently express their -delight at it, and went over the house and the -cheese-chamber, with its growing display of -goodly cheeses, over the farm-yard, and -through garden and orchard. They were -charmed with the view from the windows,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</span> -which were different from their own, and no -less with the kindly intelligence of the Woodburns -themselves, free, simple, and at ease; -and inly promised themselves much pleasure -in their friendship, which they resolved to -cultivate.</p> - -<p>Before rambling farther in our discoveries -in this neighbourhood, we have still a friend -of ours to introduce at the Grange, and then -a promenade to make through the village—at -least to make a passing note of it, and say, -“Here lives so-and-so, and there lives somebody -else.” Our acquaintance at the Grange -is only a servant, however. It is Betty -Trapps, a sort of miscellany of housemaid -and cook, in past days adding something of -the nurse to the rest of her duties. Betty -has lived with the Woodburns since she was -five-and-twenty, and she is now—let me see—what? -Five-and thirty? Yes—she has -lived at least fifteen years at the Grange, and -that makes her—upon my word!—forty!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</span> -And yet Betty does not look more than five-and-thirty. -She is middle-sized, middle-bulkish -in body, but lithe and active. Never -idle, never weary, never ill, never grumbling, -but with a wit and a will of her own, and -always ready to give, as she says, as good as -she gets. In fact, they must be awake that -venture on a jest or trick with Betty. She is -the freest of free-spoken women: Mr. Woodburn, -who likes a good-natured nickname, -calls her “Meg Merrymouth.” She says often -what she thinks—almost unmercifully; and -yet Betty is full of kindness, and is knowing -and shrewd. There is nobody thereabout -that can see half so thoroughly through those -she comes into contact with. But we shall -see Betty Trapps again, for she says she -means to stay at the Grange as long as there -is a tile on the house, unless Master should -discharge her for chaffing a little, and she -does not think he will. And she has given a -good many proofs that she means to keep<span class="pagenum" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</span> -her word, for Betty is a Methodist, and is a -woman of consequence at chapel and at the -class, and has had a good many offers of -marriage from the brethren, some very well -to do; and Betty has so far always said, -“No, thank you.” Civilly, be it understood, -and as secretly as possible, for she does not -really, smart as she is sometimes, like to hurt -any one’s feelings. But Betty is shrewdly -supposed to have saved a pretty little stock -of money, having lived so long in a good -place, and never indulged in finery, and the -brethren may not be always so easily rebuffed, -for this is one of those charms which -continue growing even when others fade. -However, the tiles on Woodburn Grange are -extremely good yet, so we shall see.</p> - -<p>A little above Woodburn Grange, and -nearer to Rockville, lies the village of Woodburn. -It is not very large, and chiefly built -round a spacious green, on which the young -men in summer evenings enjoy their games<span class="pagenum" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</span> -of cricket, ninepins, bowls, and quoits. At -the corner where the road enters the green -from Rockville, and, of course, from Castleborough, -stands the blacksmith’s shop, where -frequently two or three farm-horses stand -waiting to be shod; and a number of ploughs -and harrows lie expecting repairs. There -the sturdy smith, Job Latter, is generally -found working and perspiring, and conversing -with a number of village-lads and -young men hanging about, whom he contrives -to disperse when they incommode him, by -rubbing his hot iron in his heap of sand, and -thus sending a storm of burning stars in -every direction, that makes a sudden scamper. -Not far thence, a congregation of dilapidated -carts, waggons, and disabled wheels, mark -the shop of Will Spokeshave, the wainwright. -In the centre of the south side of the green, -rises a somewhat large old house with porch -and tall gabled roof, which is the village -school, frequented, more particularly in winter,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</span> -by the farmers’ and labourers’ sons of -the neighbourhood. This school has now -for master a worthy half-Welshman, named -Howell Crusoe (after his mother and father), -a man noted far around as “a great scollard”—a -very great, long-headed “scollard.” -He has written a book to teach boys good -manners, and a genuine curiosity it is in its -way; and his profound acquaintance with -the customs of polite society may be at once -discerned by the following rules in this his -“Book of Etiquette for Boys”—a work now -become very rare, yet of which an odd, and it -must be admitted, a <em>very</em> odd copy, may now -and then be met with on the shelves of the -bookworms of Castleborough:—“When a -gentleman or lady speaks to you”—thus -teaches Howell Crusoe boy-etiquette—“immediately -touch your forehead with the back -of your right hand; then place three fingers -of the same hand between the buttons of the -centre of your waistcoat, and expect the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</span> -observations of your superior in an attitude -of easy but respectful attention. At any -remark of the respected lady or gentleman, -incline your head with a graceful dignity, -and scrape backward with your left foot. -Whenever you are asked to sit down in company, -place one leg over the other; rest your -elbow on the elevated knee, repose your chin -on the hand of the same arm, with two -fingers extended upright between your cheek -and your ear. In an attitude at once so easy -and so graceful, await the wisdom which is -sure to fall from beauty, learning, and experience, -and hoard up the precious results for -the future occasions of life, as the busy bee -hoards up the honey of spring for the winter -of age.”</p> - -<p>A company of boys educated by Crusoe, -or on Crusoe’s plan, seated round a room in -his most approved attitude, must have been -a pleasing sight!</p> - -<p>Crusoe is the oracle of the “Grey Goose,”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</span> -the public-house opposite; for he has a number -of theories which he there defends against -all comers, and very few comers, it may be -supposed, ever go away having won any sort -of advantage over the erudite Howell Crusoe.</p> - -<p>Howell has distinguished himself in his -determined onslaughts on bull-baiting, dog-fighting, -badger-baiting, cock-fighting, and -the like; and has been supported in these -eventually successful achievements by Jasper -Heritage, David Qualm, and Sylvanus Crook, -persons as yet unknown to the reader, but to -whom I most probably shall, by permission, -very soon introduce them. Howell does not -find, however, that he can altogether dispense -with boy-baiting, or beating with his cane. -He manages to frighten the young ones, -nevertheless, by threatening to “look over -their heads to the wall,” which has something -awful in it to their imaginations; and he -thinks, in time, cudgels may be used to drive -beasts with, and boys be ruled by appealing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</span> -to what Sylvanus Crook calls their “inner -man.” Howell Crusoe is also secretary of -both men and women’s clubs, and is much -disgusted with the drunkenness displayed by -these members at Whitsuntide; finds, indeed, -he has a rude and uncouth generation to deal -with, and makes but little progress in refining -them. In a word, Howell Crusoe is an out-and-out -social reformer.</p> - -<p>Not far from the village on the Rockville-road, -you see a large pair of gates, a capacious -lodge with flowering plants in the windows, -and under one of them a little wooden trough, -very much resembling a pig-trough. It is, in -fact, a trough which Sylvanus Crook, the -good Quaker, who lives at this gentleman’s -lodge, has set there for the refreshment of -dogs, having often seen them passing with -lolling tongues, and eyes anxiously cast about -for water. Sylvanus soon had his first trough -stolen, but this he has secured by stout iron -fastenings to the wall, and he trusts that he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</span> -relieves much canine discomfort. He says, -indeed, that he has never had the pleasure -of seeing a dog drink at it; neither has -Dorothy, his wife; but he hopes they do. -At least they have the opportunity.</p> - -<p>But this lodge is but the entrance to the -extensive grounds and house of Jasper Heritage, -the wealthy Quaker banker of Castleborough. -Enter; advance up the well-kept -carriage-drive, and very soon you will see -standing on an open, level, extensive lawn, a -very large square brick house. It is one of -the country houses so frequently seen, which -are built at no expense of architecture whatever. -It is as simple and as exactly square -as any box or square block of stone that you -can see anywhere. Take a good, big deal -box, chalk on it a door in the centre, and two -or three rows of windows, and a parapet-wall -at the top, showing no roof, and then you -have the exact representation of some hundreds, -or, indeed, thousands of houses which<span class="pagenum" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</span> -raise themselves as proudly on the soil of -England, as if they boasted all the architectural -graces ever displayed. And truly -they are houses capable of lodging and -entertaining a great number of people in the -perfection of comfort. They are ample, -convenient, and opulent abodes of opulent -families, though they look so cubical and -featureless outside. This house of Mr. Jasper -Heritage, is, moreover, made somewhat attractive -by such ornaments as the very simple -taste of its owner could, or perhaps would, -give it. It has an ample portico on plain -Tuscan pillars; a broad flight of easy stone -steps up to it; a very highly-burnished -brass-knocker and bell-handle; and in a row -under the windows, a range of splendid -orange-trees in large square tubs, and a -fountain in the centre of the lawn, which -plays on particular occasions. Right and -left you see broad, exquisitely rolled gravel -walks going off into very tempting-looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</span> -shrubberies and gardens. Ah! it will be a -great treat to penetrate in there, and see all -the lawns and alleys, and gardens, ponds, and -conservatories, and snug summer-houses in -corners, which give you from a second storey -a prospect over the country round. But we -must come again some day for that. We -shall get an invitation. Now it is enough to -say, that in that house is not Jasper Heritage; -he is just now at his bank in Castleborough, -whither his coachman, Sylvanus Crook, also -a Friend, and dressed in the plainest drab, -with the most approved cocked-hat and knee-breeches -of that society, and that day, has -driven him, and will fetch him back, at four -o’clock, in the handsome, roomy dark-green -family carriage, without, I may add, the -slightest vanity of coat-of-arms, crest, or any -such badge of a worldly pride. At home, are—but -not to be intruded upon by us at this -moment, for they are busy cutting out a very -multitude of clothes for the Dorcas Society—yes,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</span> -there are Rebecca Heritage, the wealthy -banker’s wife, and Millicent Heritage, the fair -and only child of this wealthy banker—only -think of that! What! you say, is the young -lady handsome? Oh, don’t be so curious! -Wait a bit. I will tell you about the mother -first. Mrs. Rebecca Heritage is a lady of -apparently forty-five. She is not very tall, -she is not very short, she is not very thin, -nor very stout; but she is fair, very fair, -yet with dark hair neatly laid back from the -centre of the forehead under a very white and -very plain Quaker cap. A silk gown she -wears—pale very dovelike silk; a white muslin -handkerchief covers her shoulders and bosom, -and she has extremely well-cut features. Her -nose is perfect. Her eyes blue-grey, large, -and thoughtful. Her forehead is broad and -ample, and, in a word, she looks like a grave -and comely duchess dressed up for a female -Friend in a domestic theatrical. In that -noble face—in that smooth, soft, yet healthy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</span> -face—where no approach to a wrinkle, one -thinks, would ever dare to come—there is a -thought, a spirit, a fire—yes, a fire—even in -the calm that rules all in that tranquil aspect. -Depend upon it, Rebecca Heritage is no common -woman. She is like one of those women -Friends, who used to enter Whitehall, and -tell the king-destroyer Cromwell or the -laughing, reckless Charles II., in tones that -made them still as children, of the oppression -of the saints which they were perpetrating; -of the foul and hideous dungeons in which -they were holding those whose only crime -was a religion of peace. There! if you -want the picture of a mother in Israel—of -a brave, self-possessed, yet loving and large-hearted -woman—send for a painter, and let -him pourtray Rebecca Heritage.</p> - -<p>But I see you glancing aside from this -figure of heroic piety and peace to that -gentle creature at her side. Lovely, modest, -retiring Millicent. So rich, and yet nature<span class="pagenum" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</span> -has heaped all those other riches upon her. -Look at that very fair face, at those clear -blue eyes, and yet shaded by such long dark -eye-lashes, such finely-arched jetty eye-brows -and hair. Why it is not an English, but -a genuine Eastern beauty. That form and -face were evidently made for an Asiatic -palace, and they are here, in a Quaker house, -and busy in cutting out jackets and petticoats -for the squalid brats of the next town. Come -away! It is too dangerous here. I must -show you Still Lodge, it is just outside the -grounds here. There! You see it—a genuine -little wrens nest: and in it dwells David -Qualm, the brother-in-law of Jasper Heritage, -and Dorothy Qualm, his wife. Oh, most -peaceable and peace-loving people! You -will come again,—don’t linger. Remember -when you inquire for the house of Jasper -Heritage, it is called Fair-Manor.</p> - -<p>One more introduction, and then enough -for the present. We must now turn back,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</span> -pass through the villages of Rockville and -Woodburn, give a nod to pleasant Woodburn -Grange as we pass, and so on a mile farther, -skirting the feet of the sand-cliffs, till we -stand on a fine mount with a modern-looking -mansion, also of brick; they all are so round -about here. This mansion is the seat of Sir -Emanuel Clavering, a baronet of an old -family. Finely stands the house with its -large bay windows looking out on its velvet -lawn, from the soft, smooth turf of which -spring stately elms and ashes, with that -luxury of neatness which only aristocratic -trees can wear. Finely sweep the swelling -slopes of the hill down to the river, which -there takes a superb bend, and across it the -eye runs on to distant towers, and masses of -woods, and clumps of pine-clad hills high and -dark. Near the house stands the picturesque -parsonage, half covered with ivy, and here -and there a cottage, and that is Cotmanhaye—there -is no village. Opposite to the house<span class="pagenum" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</span> -southward, or south-west, rises a still higher -range of hills, and on climbing that, you -behold another landscape, vast and varied, -villages, farms, and woods.</p> - -<p>Sir Emanuel Clavering is a tall gentlemanly -man of sixty. All who know him -declare him a man of very pleasant manners, -extremely well read; fond of poetry, but of -the Pope school, which he declares to be the -only polished and correct one; and given to -astronomical, and it is said abstruse studies. -There is a small tower at some distance -on the ridge of the hill, which he uses -as an observatory. In his youth he was -away, no one knows where, for a space -of seven years. Those who have seen -him often and inspected him closely, assert -that the gristle of his nose is bored, as -savages bore theirs to insert a feather or a -flower. Hence, there is a popular story—an -imagination, for Sir Emanuel has never been -known to utter a word to his most intimate<span class="pagenum" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</span> -friends, either of this curious fact, or of the -sojourn of those years. The country people -talk fluently by their firesides of Sir Emanuel -in his wild youth as the head of some wild -race, the lord of some dark-eyed, dark-skinned -princess. They have romanced out a -grand story of his leading the devoted natives -to battle, with all the terrors of European -arms, and winning great victories and domains -for them. They account for his return by the -death of his princess, a creature of wondrous -beauty, and by the natural longings for one’s -native land. Not a syllable of this story has -a basis of ascertained fact, not the ground of -a single allusion the most distant; all those -years are a blank to every one but Sir -Emanuel himself. Nothing more is known -than that he returned to find his father dead, -and his younger brother, the rector, holding -the estate for him. He had neither brother -nor sister besides Thomas the rector. In a -few years, during which he was about a great<span class="pagenum" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</span> -deal in London, and from which gentlemen -of his own tastes sometimes came down and -shut themselves up for days with him in his -tower, and were seen riding about with him, -Sir Emanuel married. Not, however, one of -the daughters of any of the neighbouring -aristocratic families, but the daughter of the -bailiff of his estate. His wife had still fewer -relatives than himself, she had no brother or -sister. She was a naturally fine woman, and -bore her elevation with modesty and good -sense. The habits of Sir Emanuel became -more secluded than before. The neighbouring -families rarely called on him. His life -was chiefly spent in prosecuting the studies -of his tower, in field sports, in fishing, and in -occasional visits to the metropolis.</p> - -<p>Such a character was sure to become the -object of the most extraordinary rumours in -the country round. His astronomical studies, -his frequent walks at midnight to his solitary -tower, followed by two large black dogs,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</span> -his being seen by the keepers sometimes -wrapped in his cloak, silently pacing along -that bleak and elevated ridge in darkness -and in the wildest tempests, was enough to -add in the popular mind, to his astronomy, -other and darker studies. The peasantry -universally believed that he dealt in the -black art; they asserted that he had been -seen at the same hour in two different places -thirty miles apart; they said that there was -nothing lost anywhere in the neighbourhood -but he would say, immediately on hearing of -it, where it was, or who had got it; and that -he was always right. He always told the -farmers what sort of a summer or winter it -would be, which was certain to take place; -and he had been known on hearing of a -wedding, whether in high or low life, to shake -his head and say that would not be lucky, -and it never was. All these things he probably -pronounced from the simple sources of -natural sagacity and extended knowledge,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</span> -perfectly legitimate in its character; but the -people far around took another and more -mysterious view of it. They observed that -though his brother was the clergyman, and -the living belonging to the family, he rarely -appeared at church; and the peasantry when -they saw him felt a secret terror, though he -always accosted them most kindly; was -always cheerful, and even jocose, and never -heard of a case of distress which he did not -send to relieve.</p> - -<p>Sir Emanuel, contrary to his wont, called -on the Degges, and they returned his call, -curious to make the acquaintance of a man -of so peculiar a reputation. They were -greatly struck with the polished friendliness -of his manner, his frank cordiality, and his -superior intelligence. He assured them that -he had great pleasure in the prospect of -cultivating their friendship. Lady Clavering -had been deceased some years; he had but -one son, Henry Clavering, who had been the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</span> -school-fellow of George Woodburn, at Repton, -and who was on terms of great friendship -with all the family at Woodburn Grange.</p> - -<p>And thus I have presented a few of the -leading <i lang="la" xml:lang="la">dramatis personæ</i>; others are waiting -in the side-scenes ready to make their -appearance.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_V">CHAPTER V.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">BETTY TRAPPS COMES TO NOTICE.</p> - - -<p>The life of Rockville, Woodburn, and their -vicinities presented little to chronicle for -some time. Simon Degge was angrily commented -upon by the neighbouring squirearchy, -for having thrown open the game on his -estate to the farmers. “This is the way,” -they said at their mutual dinners, “with these -plebeians. Having no taste for gentlemanly -sport themselves, they would like to see it -annihilated, and the landed proprietors reduced -for amusement to flocking to Castleborough, -and winding cotton-balls, or manufacturing -stockings.” This idea was very -much applauded, and made the ladies of the -county very merry. “We must all go to help<span class="pagenum" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</span> -the gentlemen,” they said, “and seam hose, and -help to ‘take in.’” Mr. Markham, the rector -of Rockville, though agreeing with his landed -friends in the main idea, said he was bound -to say that Mr. Degge was rather a keen -sportsman, and a prodigious good shot. He -had seen him drop his birds right and left in -a most masterly way; where he had picked -up the skill rather puzzled him. Certainly, -it could not come by nature, as Dogberry -thought reading and writing did; but it -must be admitted that he was a prodigiously -clever man. And, in fact, unless he had -been, how could he have got on so?</p> - -<p>“How do good-looking fellows manage to -marry rich heiresses?” asked Sir Benjamin -Bullockshed.</p> - -<p>“Ah, well; but that was not altogether the -way that Mr. Degge had mounted into such -fortune. No, no; it was too well known that -he had got rich before he got the rich wife. -<em>He</em> was not going to be the panegyrist of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</span> -Degge; he did not approve of letting either -farmers or hosiers loose on the game. By no -means; and, besides, Degge had no taste at -all for coursing, nor for hunting.”</p> - -<p>“How should he?” asked Sir Thomas -Tenterhook. “Probably, in his younger days -he might manage to leap over a counter, but -I should like to see him take a good hawthorn -fence with a ditch on the other side, -or a five-barred gate.”</p> - -<p>“But he could do it; nay, I have seen -him do it,” said Mr. Markham, “in riding -over his farm one day; and if he had hunted -all his life, he could not have shown himself -more at home in the saddle.”</p> - -<p>“Gad! Markham,” said Sir Thomas, “but -Degge has turned your head marvellously in -a very little time. Why, you are a regular -trumpeter for him. By your account he is -possessed of all the graces and endowments -of a specimen man.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! don’t you believe it, Sir Thomas.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</span> -It is nonsense,” replied Mr. Markham; “it is -useless to deny what is plain to everybody; -but I join you in all you say of Degge’s vulgar -impudence in presuming to snatch a property, -as it were, out of the hands of such a gentleman -as Sir Benjamin Bullockshed, and in -letting loose half the hosiers of Castleborough -on Sir Benjamin’s game.”</p> - -<p>“On Sir Benjamin’s game!” said Sir Roger -Rockville; “on all our game. He has encouraged -the poachers to an audacity never -known before. They all say, ‘There, Mr. -Degge has shown his sense. He knows that -game is everybody’s.’ Our keepers have -now no rest day nor night. The fields, the -woods, the copses swarm with poachers. After -them, and they are over the hedges into -Degge’s land, and touch ’em there who dare. -Sooner than we should convict them, he -would give every man of them a keeper’s -licence. That arch scamp, Joe Scammell, I -am told, sends cart-loads of hares and pheasants<span class="pagenum" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</span> -to Castleborough every week. Can no -one lay hold of that fellow? His offences -are now so many, he might be transported.”</p> - -<p>“But what matters half-a-dozen Scammells -being sent out of the country,” said Sir -Thomas Tenterhook, “when every labourer or -artizan is encouraged by the example of Degge, -who is only a poacher on a larger scale? -They preach that all must live. Now let me -tell you something. Close to my estate, and -by the high road to Castleborough, there lives -a shoemaker, in a village, who was had up and -fined for shooting a hare in his garden last -winter but one. That fellow the very next -season took out a licence, for the right of a -shot over his own garden, and he could not be -turned out of it. So Degge made him one -of his keepers, and thus qualified him; and -all this last autumn and winter, he has sat -at his window and shot my hares and -pheasants. Not content with daylight, he -has kept this fine game by moonlight. Gad!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</span> -the fellow is making a little fortune out -of it.”</p> - -<p>There was a universal murmur of indignation -at such an instance of unheard-of -audacity.</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said Sir Benjamin Bullockshed, -“that is precisely the case in point. My game -is drained off by constantly getting into -some one of Degge’s fields, and being killed by -one of his stocking-weaver acquaintances. I -say, Mr. Markham, spite of your praises of -Simon Degge, the man is a nuisance, a sheer, -intolerable unmitigated nuisance.”</p> - -<p>“Hear! hear!” resounded round the -dinner-table, in which Mr. Markham, rather -alarmed for his reputation, joined; and the -ladies rose, to retire to the drawing-room, -expressing their hearty approbation.</p> - -<p>Simon Degge, meantime, did not trouble -himself about these wrathful comments upon -him in the neighbouring great houses. He -had the pleasure of hearing all throughout<span class="pagenum" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</span> -Hillmartin, that the people there were highly -pleased with the check he had given to Sir -Benjamin Bullockshed, whose injustice to the -farmers of this farm had been a subject of -indignant comment for years. As his crops -grew, he fenced off what he wanted to secure -from the game, with a wire fencing, which he -found perfectly effectual, leaving a considerable -strip along the woodsides to the depredations -of these creatures. When the harvest -was got, he removed his wire-fence, and -allowed the game to wander anywhere, and -all autumn and winter he found an abundant -supply for himself and friends, who had thus -a great inducement to come out from Castleborough -for a good day’s shooting every now -and then. This was not less irritating to -the Bullocksheds and Rockvilles, than it was -delightful to the people and farmers all round, -who not daring to open their mouths, yet saw -with evident satisfaction this poetical justice -executed on men who had never shown the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</span> -least sense of justice in their own conduct -whenever game was concerned.</p> - -<p>The objects of social improvement which -interested Mr. and Mrs. Degge in Castleborough, -were introduced by them into the -little arena of Hillmartin. The condition of -the poor was looked into, and their distresses -relieved. Their children were afforded a good -school, and many a comfort flowed unostentatiously -into the homes of the aged or the -sick that was never known before.</p> - -<p>Thus a new link was established between -town and country, which, though it did not -extend to the Bullocksheds and Rockvilles, -did extend to the Woodburns, the Claverings, -and some other county families. By the -intercourse of the Degges, the Woodburns, the -Heritages, and the Claverings, Sir Emanuel -and his brother Thomas, the rector of Cotmanhaye, -his wife and son, a very charming -little circle was formed, in which English -country life presented its most genial aspect.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</span> -After a few formal visits and dinings, Mr. -and Mrs. Degge began by degrees, one or -other of them, or both together, to drop in at -Woodburn Grange unceremoniously, and the -Woodburns at Hillmartin. Simon Degge was -glad to have something regarding his farm -or country concerns to ask Mr. Woodburn -about, and to take a ride with Leonard -Woodburn when he went to superintend his -own farm. Sometimes they extended their -ride to Cotmanhaye Manor, and had a chat -with Sir Emanuel, or, if he were absent, with -the rector, who was a zealous farmer himself, -and rented a large farm of his brother, on -which his only son, Charles, resided, a couple -of miles off. They always found Sir Emanuel -extremely affable and even jocosely kind, and -always familiar with all the topics of the day, -whether political or concerning the affairs of -the country round. His peeps into the worlds -of the heavens did not seem to render him in -the least indifferent to or unobservant of what<span class="pagenum" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</span> -passed in this. He never obtruded the display -of his extensive knowledge of foreign -countries, or of men and things in the great -world of London and the nation at large, but -these were frequently showing themselves in -incidental remarks on the topics under discussion. -Frequently he ordered his horse and -accompanied them in their ride, and during -the winter he invited them to join him in snipe -and woodcock shooting, these birds abounding -in some swampy places on his property, as did -wild geese and ducks about the reedy back-waterings -of the river. On these occasions -he not only showed himself a dead shot, but -careless of weather and capable of enduring -amazing exertion.</p> - -<p>The festivities of the winter brought these -families much together. Woodburn Grange -presented all the genial and gay abundance -of fare—fat turkeys and geese, mince-pies, -pork-pies, possets, and a world of light delicacies, -blazing fires, and country sports and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</span> -dances, even blind-man’s-buff, turn-trencher, -and other romps, which had been preserved -at the Grange from father to son as essential -customs of country-life. These had a novelty, -and, therefore, a greater charm for the young -people from the town, than the more ordinary -dinner-parties and dances of the great halls. -Even Sir Emanuel Clavering became a laughing -boy again at the rural revels of the -Grange, and vied with the lightsome, butterfly -gaiety of Letty, amid these domestic -saturnalia. Sir Emanuel even opened his -house to several gay parties, and embellished -his handsome suite of rooms with a display of -arms of richest and quaintest workmanship, -caskets of ivory of most delicate carvings, and -others inlaid with jewels and gold, with silken -draperies of richest colours and strange devices, -and china jars and vessels, some of -stupendous size, and most superb forms, and -painted enamelings. He himself moved -everywhere amongst his guests, as affable,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</span> -kind, gracefully courteous and cordial, as if -he, too, never studied anything but to enjoy -his fortune and position as a finished gentleman. -Except his brother and his brother’s -wife, he was now alone in his house, for his -son was and had been some time abroad. All -were charmed with Sir Emanuel, and wondered -that he had spent so secluded a life in -the country. Perhaps the cause was not far to -seek, when it was recollected that Sir Roger -Rockville, the Bullocksheds, and Tenterhooks -had been his chief neighbours.</p> - -<p>As the winter passed, and the spring days -grew in warmth and pleasantness, the intercourse -of these families grew too. Mr. and -Mrs. Degge would call and join the young -people of the Grange in their walks or rides, -and Mrs. Degge would drop in and have a -pleasant chat with Mrs. Woodburn, Ann, -and Letty, as they went on with their -different concerns. The great concern of -Letty, indeed, seeming to be to laugh and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</span> -chatter, as if there were no such things as -care or matter-of-fact duty in the world. She -had to show Mrs. Degge the herds of young -ducks and chickens, the birds’ nests in curious -places in the garden, the dogs, and the -rabbits kept in the hutches, as if she had -been an actual boy, and to the evident delight -of their visitor, while a flood of intervening -small-talk produced bursts of merry -laughter, which, reaching the house, made -the graver mother exclaim, “What <em>can</em> that -girl be about?”</p> - -<p>A great variety in this little circle was -furnished by the Friends’ family of the Heritages. -It was not the custom of these worthy -Friends to give festive parties, nor did they -frequent those of their neighbours, if there -was to be much worldly amusement, especially -of dancing, cards, or the like. They preferred -to make familiar calls during the day, on -which occasions they were always extremely -friendly, and as pleasantly cheerful as any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</span> -people in the world, but always with a certain -substratum of gravity and soberness. These -visits were generally made by Mrs. Heritage -and her daughter Millicent. The mother was -sure to ask about what she saw going on in -farming household affairs. In winter she was -very much interested in Betty Trapps’s spinning-wheel, -which, when she had nothing else -very pressing, was sure to be humming away -in the warm, clean house-place, as it was -called, a sort of intermediate room between -the kitchen and the parlour, where the farm-men -and the servants took their meals, -and where Mr. Woodburn furnished them -with suitable books for their evening’s reading -in winter, but where the men generally -stretched their legs before the blazing fire, -and dropped asleep, and then stole off to -bed. Betty Trapps greatly amused the -Heritage ladies, mother and daughter, with -her country shrewdness and plain-spokenness.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</span></p> - -<p>“Dost thou manage to get good tow?” -asked Mrs. Heritage, one day.</p> - -<p>“Oh, yes,” Betty said, “as good as I -expect.”</p> - -<p>“Dost thou not expect it to be good, -then?” asked Mrs. Heritage.</p> - -<p>“Yes, <em>I</em> expect it,” said Betty, “because -I look pretty sharp after it. They wunna -readily find a norp<a id="FNanchor_1" href="#Footnote_1" class="fnanchor">[1]</a> in me.”</p> - -<p>“Surely,” said Mrs. Heritage, “there cannot -be much cheating in tow?”</p> - -<p>“There are tricks in all trades,” said -Betty, dryly, “and there are tricks in tow. -I get mine from Widow Pechell, in Hillmartin, -and as I scrutinised it pretty closely when I -first went to her shop, says Mrs. Pechell, -‘Ay, thou may look, lass, but nobody is ever -deceived in <em>my</em> tow, for they awlis expect a -bit of bad in the middle, and they are sure -to find it there.’”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</span></p> - -<p>“That was candid,” said Miss Millicent -Heritage, laughing gently.</p> - -<p>“But didst thou find some bad in the -middle?” asked Mrs. Heritage.</p> - -<p>“Yes, sure enough I did,” said Betty; -“but I just took it out of the rock, and laid -it on the counter, and said, ‘Now, weigh it, -missis,’ and since then I never find any bad -in the middle, because Mother Pechell knows -it’s just no use. She may try that on with -norps.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mrs. Heritage, rising, “when -I want to buy tow, Betty, I will get thee -to do it for me.”</p> - -<p>Betty turned her wheel more briskly at -this compliment to her sagacity, and added, -“You might do worse, Mrs. Heritage; and -yet I think Sukey Priddo can help you in -such bargains quite as well.” Sukey Priddo -was Mrs. Heritage’s housekeeper, and a sister -Methodist of Betty’s.</p> - -<p>“Oh! Sukey Priddo is a good, careful,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</span> -managing soul,” said Mrs. Heritage, turning -round and smiling as she went out; “but -not half so sharp as thee, I think. Farewell, -Betty.”</p> - -<p>The Heritages, though they rarely gave -parties, were always glad to see any of their -friends at tea at five o’clock, and after that, -in summer, to a walk in the grounds, and -supper at eight, soon after which they liked -their friends to depart, as they had family -reading at nine, and all the house in bed at -ten. It was a hospitable, abundant house. -No good things of life were ever wanting -there, for though the Friends have always -been a temperate people, and have had a -horror of drunkenness as actually degrading, -they have always maintained luxurious tables—a -luxury wedded to moderate indulgence—and -have, combined with their avoidance -of agitative passions, the great and healthy -longevity they display.</p> - -<p>At the simple but plenteous board of Fair<span class="pagenum" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</span> -Manor, our friends of Woodburn and even -of Cotmanhaye—for Sir Emanuel had gradually -been drawn out to occasional visits as -far as there, and seemed as if he could not -sufficiently admire the grave wisdom of Mr. -Heritage, and the oriental beauty of the fair -Millicent—have met quite another class and -circle of persons. These were inhabitants of -Castleborough, chiefly Friends, and their -habits of thought, speech, and opinion, were -a curious study to the more general denizens -of the every-day world. There was a tone of -what might be called practical and moral -economy about them. Their plain dresses -and simple manners were accompanied by a -mode of looking at everything so different -from that of the world—even the religious -world in general—as made it rather a piquant -study to those not intimate with them. -Having abandoned all the usual amusements -of society, as vain, frivolous, and often very -immoral, and, therefore, unbecoming true<span class="pagenum" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</span> -Christians,—hunting, racing, theatres, balls, -concerts, cards, and other games of hazard, or -of skill employed for gain,—even abstaining -from music, singing, or other things which -might lead to lightness and dissipation, they -were thrown greatly upon trade for a resource -against <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">ennui</i> almost as much as for -profit. In the domestic life, books of the -most moral and grave kind, and the discussion -of the great topics of philanthropy, -of opposition to war, slavery, and political -religions, and plans for prison discipline, and -the relief of distress, and the spread of education -amongst the people: these were their -favourite topics; but of these their conversation -was of the simplest kind. There was -often a childlike character about it. In all -great moral points they were simple, direct, -substantial, and without grace or ornament,—grand. -Brave and able must have been the -man who could compete with them on any of -these heads, for they were on the rock of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</span> -eternal truth, and no human force could push -them from it. Outside of this they could -find amusement in the most simple of simplicities. -You might see them at the tea-table -at Fair Manor amuse themselves—that -is, the young people, the elder ones looking -on—with endeavouring to lift, by a close application -of fingers and thumb to their smooth -backs, the small dessert or tea-table plates -which they used; or riddles and sober conundrums, -could maintain a very innocent mirth -for a whole evening.</p> - -<p>There were, however, a number of curious, -and one or two remarkable characters amongst -the kind visitors from Castleborough, whom -we shall occasionally meet there. Not the -least striking figures in these parties, however, -were David and Dorothy Qualm, and -Sylvanus Crook. These were part and parcel, -as it were, of the Fair Manor circle. David -Qualm, as I have said, was the brother-in-law -of Joseph Heritage, Dorothy Qualm being<span class="pagenum" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</span> -Jasper’s sister. This worthy couple lived, as -we have said, at Still Lodge, just outside the -grounds of Fair Manor. Still Lodge!—a -most appropriate name. The very element -of David and Dorothy Qualm was silence. -So far as could be observed, they managed -to understand and communicate with each -other at the least expense of words conceivable. -Their movements were as quiet as -their words. What they did, said, thought -of, what was their specialty, no one had ever -been able to discover. And yet their specialty -was huge, prominent, unavoidable—it was -quietude. No passion, except it were a passion -for peaceful inertia, marked, much less -disturbed, their days. Their house was small -and modest, but always exquisitely neat. It -seemed a sin to tread on those bright, nice, -unfaded, unworn carpets. On the mat at -the entrance-door you read the large-lettered -admonition, “Please, wipe thy shoes.” The -garden was always neatness itself—staid and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</span> -tempered in the very colours of its flowers. -Dorothy Qualm had once been seen ordering -the gardener to dig up and throw out some -gorgeously red peonies, as too un-Friendly -and gaudy in hue. David Qualm never was -seen to garden, to engage in anything active, -or visible even, except in tranquilly smoking -his pipe, and in riding out on a small, stout -Welsh pony, called Taffy, by the side of his -tall, portly brother-in-law, Jasper Heritage, -who rode, as befitted him, a large black -horse. The high and substantial apparition -of Jasper Heritage, and the little figure of -pony and rider inevitably at his side, -were familiar objects around Woodburn. -Their striking difference in bulk and -stature had inspired some wag to name -them David and Goliath. Once Sylvanus -Crook was greatly scandalised by finding -chalked on the wall of the entrance-lodge -where he lived, as he went out early one -summer morning,—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</span></p> - -<p class="fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">David was a little man,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 7em;">Goliath he was tall,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 6em;">And you may see them any day</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 7em;">At Fair Manor Hall.</span><br> -</p> - -<p>Sylvanus hurried in for a sponge and -bucket of water, and perhaps never showed -more adroitness in his life than in wiping out -the offensive rhyme before his wife could get -a glimpse of it. But many an earlier riser -than Sylvanus had already read it, and it had -entered into the oral curiosities of Woodburn, -and even travelled to Castleborough.</p> - -<p>In company David Qualm preserved the -same solid reticence, the same inexhaustible -capacity for silence as in his own domicile. -At home, his pipe was his constant companion -even more inseparable than his equally quiescent -wife. What was he? He was the -companion of Jasper Heritage, and that was -all, so far as the most inquisitive mortal ever -knew. Did he and brother Jasper ever converse -at home, or in their rides? No one -lives to tell us. Probably, in their own<span class="pagenum" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</span> -phrase, they were brought into nearness with -each other, as Oliver the Protector said to -George Fox at Whitehall, “Come again, -George, come often; for if thou and I were -oftener together, we should be nearer to each -other.” David Qualm, in his brown Quaker -suit, with his brown wig and his cocked hat, -with the ample brim suspended by silk cords -in the most orthodox style of that day of -Quakerism, was a figure to be carved in -stone, for no stone could surpass him in the -abundance and perpetuity of silence.</p> - -<p>Sylvanus Crook, the lodge inhabiter—his -wife was the gate-keeper—Sylvanus, the -overlooker of the grounds and gardeners, the -house-steward, the purveyor of all necessaries, -and bearer of all important messages—in a -word, the factotum of Fair Manor—was a -middle-sized man of forty, of light build, -and clad in light drab, with short knee-breeches -and grey ribbed stockings. His hat, -too, was three-cocked, but had a less precise<span class="pagenum" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</span> -and more weather-beaten air than that of -David Qualm, but was generally believed to -be David’s, which in due course had descended -on Sylvanus. In mind, in manner, in all -else, Sylvanus, however, was the antithesis of -David. Sylvanus had talk enough and busy -mind enough for anybody. He read—having -the run of Mr. Heritage’s library, but foraged -most amongst Friends’ books: the histories -of their trials, persecutions, and the expositions -of their opinions. Sylvanus was a -sturdy champion of Quaker principles and -customs, and skilful must the polemical acrobat -be who ventured a wrestle with him on -that familiar and sacred ground. Many a -combat had Sylvanus and Betty Trapps on -the comparative merits of Quakerism and -Methodism, and on sundry topics besides. -Betty often turned the laugh against Sylvanus, -but he was like a true Englishman, as -described by Napoleon—he never knew when -he was beaten. Sylvanus was the indispensable<span class="pagenum" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</span> -man at Fair Manor, and was one of -those who, though servants, are acknowledged -as brothers, and was admitted frequently to -the society which frequented that great resort -of Castleborough Friends.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</span></p> - - -<div class="footnotes"><h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3> - -<div class="footnote"> - -<p><a id="Footnote_1" href="#FNanchor_1" class="label">[1]</a> An ape; used now by the country people for a -simpleton.</p> - -</div> -</div> - - -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VI">CHAPTER VI.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THORSBY AMONGST THE WOODBURNS.</p> - - -<p>Amongst the Castleborough gentlemen who -were on terms of intimacy with the family of -Simon Degge, and who, therefore, frequently -was to be met at Hillmartin, was a Mr. Henry -Thorsby. This Mr. Thorsby was a young -man of one of the oldest and most leading -families of Castleborough. He was a manufacturing -hosier; hosiery being one of the -two great staples of the town—the other -being lace. These hosiers employed a great -number of frame-work-knitters in both town -and country. These people, in fact, handloom-weavers, -worked in the stocking-frame, -receiving the cotton from the hosier, and -bringing in to the town-warehouse their -woven stockings at so much per dozen every<span class="pagenum" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</span> -Saturday. A first-rate house, therefore, employed -some hundreds of men or women, as -it might he, for both men and women are -stocking-weavers, or, as they are termed, -stockingers.</p> - -<p>Mr. Henry, or as he was more commonly -called, Harry Thorsby, was the son of a great -hosier, who had led a very free and <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">bon -vivant</i> life; had been a fearful sufferer from -the gout; and had died recently from an -attack of it which had been driven to the -stomach. He had left only his widow and -this one son, who was regarded as one of the -most substantial burghers of the place. He -had large warehouses, a large and handsome -house, in which his mother presided, and to -whom he was the apple of her eye. In her -eyes her son Harry was one in a thousand; -never was such a handsome, good-hearted -fellow; he was, she said, as good as twenty -daughters to her, and always had been.</p> - -<p>In fact, Harry Thorsby was a very good-looking<span class="pagenum" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</span> -and pleasant young man. He was -something above the middle height, rather -broadly built, but extremely active. He had -a handsome, somewhat large face, of what is -called the oval contour, well-defined features, -a bushy head of black hair, a rather dark -complexion, and well-shaped black whiskers. -Thorsby, like his father, had a very sociable -and rather jovial turn—that was the rock in -his path. His mother, indeed, had often -with tears shown him that danger, and implored -him to take warning by his father’s -example, who had shortened his life by indulgence -in wine, and what he called good -company; and who might have possessed -double the wealth, and the first place in the -town,—yes, not even second to Mr. Simon -Degge,—had he avoided the snare of good -fellowship. Harry would not hurt his mother’s -feelings for the world, and he always -said,—“Oh, mother, you need not have any -anxiety on my account. I am not by any<span class="pagenum" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</span> -means fond of wine, though I do like a little -pleasant company; but I shall not forget -what I have seen, and I shall not forget you, -mother.”</p> - -<p>Harry Thorsby was fond of his horse, and -followed the hunt. He might often be seen -during the season, in his scarlet coat riding -out of town on a fine morning to the meet of -the day, looking very gallant and happy; -and grave fellow-manufacturers as they passed -to their warehouses, while they nodded and -smiled in passing, said to themselves,—“Thorsby -will be Thorsby; what is bred -in the bone will never be out of the flesh. -Harry, like his father, finds something pleasanter -than his counting-house.”</p> - -<p>But, exclusive of this taste for hunting, -and for shooting, which was equally a passion -of his, Harry Thorsby was a good tradesman, -and a steady attendant on his counting-house -and warehouse and business altogether. -Business over, however, he was much in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</span> -company of the young men of position in -the town. He was an extremely merry, amusing -fellow in company; told an anecdote -well, and sung fairly. His nature seemed to -demand life and variety. He was extremely -excitable, but not to anger,—for he was -extremely forbearing under provocation; his -tendency was to pleasure, fun—what is termed -larking—and to all the jollity of youth.</p> - -<p>One of these larks he often was very -merry over amongst his intimate friends. -He and his mother often breakfasted at a -small round table, and the breakfast was -brought in on a circular-turned mahogany -tray, which had grown rather rotund at the -bottom so that it would easily turn round on -the table. His mother being very fond of a -gossip, and having always a great deal to tell -him in his <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tête-à-tête</i>, had scarcely began her -coffee when Harry had despatched his first -cup; unperceived, therefore, he would gently -turn the tray round, finish her cup too, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</span> -then remind her that both were empty. -This process went on to the end of Harry’s -three cups, when he would spring up and -say he must be off to business. “I hope -you’ve made a good breakfast, Harry,” his -mother would say, rising at the same time; -“as for me, I don’t know how it is, but I feel -neither fuller nor fatter.”</p> - -<p>Harry went laughing slily to himself away, -saying, “Well, mother, you have been amusing -me with your talk so much, you don’t -know whether you have breakfasted or not. -Get some more. You’re never wrong if you -eat till you are satisfied.” And the old lady -would say, “Well, my lad, I think I must, -for I feel quite sinking.” And he would -leave her wondering how it was, but pouring -comfortably out another cup.</p> - -<p>Another manœuvre was not quite so innocent. -Being sent, as a boy, on his father’s -Arab mare, on a disagreeable journey, he -dismounted outside of the town, daubed the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</span> -poor mare’s face and knees with mud, and -led her back home, saying that she had fallen -and thrown him, and hurt him so much, that -he could not go. His clothes being smeared -plentifully, too, added to the probability of -the story. But if Harry had any feeling, he -was severely punished for his ruse, for his -father, in a great rage, took the riding-whip -and gave the innocent mare, who never made -a false step in her life, a most unmerciful -beating, and soon after sold her. This fact -had reached Betty Trapps through Sylvanus -Crook, and she prognosticated something -awful of so cruelly artful a lad. Cruelty, -however, was far from one of Harry Thorsby’s -sins of manhood. He showed often very -humane feeling.</p> - -<p>Thorsby was frequently at Hillmartin; -and there was a belief that he aspired to the -hand of a rich Miss Mountain, of Castleborough. -However that might be, he soon -had occasion to accompany Ann and Letty<span class="pagenum" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</span> -home one evening, and from that day was as -frequent and familiar a visitor at the Grange. -George Woodburn had seen something of -him at different times in Castleborough and in -the hunting-field, and there soon grew up a -great friendship. They made appointments -to go to the hunt together. George invited -him to come and shoot with him; for, besides -the game on Woodburn Farm, Sir -Emanuel Clavering had given George free -range on his lands; and in a while Thorsby -was on the most familiar terms at the Grange. -Everybody liked him. He was so intelligent -and so full of the spirit of good nature and of -life enjoyment. He often came and passed -the night there, that he might talk with Mr. -and Mrs. Woodburn, and sing a variety of -popular airs with Letty, which Ann accompanied -on the piano.</p> - -<p>George Woodburn was a young man of -very pleasing person, but considered, by -young men in general, peculiar. He had<span class="pagenum" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</span> -been educated at Repton, the great Derbyshire -grammar school, where he had made -the acquaintance of the sons of the principal -nobles and gentry of the county. Henry -Clavering, the son of Sir Emanuel, their near -neighbour, had been one of his schoolfellows, -and they had ever since been great friends. -They had enjoyed together all the pleasures -and sports of country life. Clavering was -now away, and Thorsby was a very acceptable -companion for George. It was in the -country and at home, however, that this companionship -was enjoyed, for George could -never be persuaded to join Thorsby’s social -circles in town. George had a steadfast dislike -of towns and great companies. From a -boy there had been a certain gravity in his -character, combined with the utmost kindliness -of disposition. He loved above everything -the country and country life. His heart -and soul were in his profession of agriculturist. -In everything connected with farming<span class="pagenum" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</span> -and with the objects of nature lay his whole -happiness. He knew every creature, great -and small, that inhabited the fields; their -haunts and habits were as familiar to him as -the doings in his own family. Every species -of insect was known to him, and might be -said to be loved by him. As a boy he could -tell you not only of every bird that built in -the hedges, the orchard-trees, the cart-sheds, -and the eaves, but the mason-bees that built -in the old garden-wall he could show you -passing in and out, and name them by names -of his own, knowing every one individually.</p> - -<p>He had from a mere lad accustomed himself -to exposure to all kinds of weather, hot -or cold, to battle with the wildest snows in -looking after the sheep, to the most drenching -rains, following the plough, or carting out -compost for the land. There was no kind of -manual labour on the farm in which he was -not as expert as any labourer or farm-servant -of them all. No one could beat him in mowing,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</span> -reaping, ploughing, threshing, or in any -kind of work. He could plash a hedge, cut a -ditch or a drain, or fell a tree with any of -them. His strength was prodigious, from -constant exercise, and from absence of any -enfeebling indulgence, for he had an innate -aversion to much wine or beer, preferring -what he called the mother and staple of all -drinks—the crystal daughter of the rock.</p> - -<p>In these respects George Woodburn was a -most beneficial companion for Harry Thorsby, -for George’s unequivocal dislike of anything -dissipated, his equally unmistakeable enjoyment -of the simplest pleasures of the country, -struck Thorsby with wonder; and when he -saw George’s real pleasure in the moderate -number of friends that he mixed with, and -his enormous capacity for enduring exertion, -he wondered the more. In their shooting -excursions he would have tired down a -horse, and never appeared to know what -fatigue was in himself.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</span></p> - -<p>“George,” said Thorsby, “how I do envy -you your philosophical contempt for the pleasures -of gay society, for you seem to enjoy -what you do like with such a genuine gusto.”</p> - -<p>“But it is no merit, my dear fellow,” -George would reply; “for all those things -that you call jollities and gaieties are my aversion. -To spring out of bed on a summer’s -morning, and see the sun shining over the -beauteous landscape, steaming and smoking -in the ascending dew; to hear the cuckoo -calling me in her quaint foreign tongue, the -thrushes and blackbirds shouting out their -delight, some scores of them, as if they had -not hearts big enough for their joy; to hear -all the varied sounds of life, from the larks in -the sky, from the creatures in the yard; to -see the cattle and the flocks all luxuriating in -the green or golden fields; to hear human -voices making up the concert of nature, and, -above all, the merry tongue of Letty, and the -grave, loving tones of Ann, already out in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</span> -the garden; to mount my horse, and ride -away through fields and woods amid all the -gladness of heaven and earth; to feel the -fulness of life beating in my veins and gushing -through my heart—Ah! what are all your -simpering fine people, and your candle-light -companies to me! Thorsby, I see men solitarily -passing their lives in the lonely fields, -or felling and fagoting in the lonely woods, -whose very existence will never be known -beyond their own hamlet; and do you think -they are miserable? I tell you, no—so long -as they can earn a decent reward for their -labour. I often talk with these men, the -Crusoes of the fields, of whom you fine people -never think, or value them more than the sheep -which graze beside them, and I find that God -has breathed into them, frequently, in His -silent language, of the sun, the moon, and -stars, of the whispering breezes of evening, -the colours of the sky, and the odours of turf -and forest—things the haunters of crowds<span class="pagenum" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</span> -and lamplit festivities never dream of. These -humble creatures, amid all their ignorance, in -all their unvalued life, go home at night to -loving hearts, and taste a happiness in communion -with a few loved objects, which never -can come to those whose affections are dissipated -by running over countless forms and -faces without settling on any. I would -rather be one of these poor, despised, unknown, -uncared-for creatures than the finest, -wealthiest man or woman who lives the mere -life of fashion and conventionalism.</p> - -<p>“Our philosophical poet Wordsworth has -exactly hit my idea of the philosophy of -existence:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: -1em;">“‘Yet life, you say, is life; we have seen and see,</span><br> -And with a living pleasure we describe;<br> -And fits of sprightly malice do but bribe<br> -The languid mind into activity.<br> -Sound sense, and love itself, and mirth and glee,<br> -Are fostered by the comment and the gibe.<br> -Even be it so: yet still among your tribe,<br> -Our daily world’s true worldlings, rank not me.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</span><br> -<br> -<span style="margin-left: -.5em;">“Nor can I not believe but that hereby</span><br> -Great gains are mine: for thus I live remote<br> -From evil-speaking; rancour never sought,<br> -Comes to me not; malignant truth, or lie.<br> -Hence have I genial seasons; hence have I<br> -Smooth passions, smooth discourse, and joyous<br> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">thought.’”</span><br> -</div> - -<p>Had George Woodburn been an austere or -moping sort of young man, such conversations -as these would not have surprised Harry -Thorsby; but when he saw, that in everything -George Woodburn found a pleasure as -fresh as a mountain spring, that he was at -home in the evening, all fun and playfulness, -with his sisters, listened with delight to their -music and singing, though he took no share -in these things himself; with what sound -sense and early wisdom he entered into the -conversation with his parents and friends on -any topic of domestic or public concern, he -was deeply struck by it, and entertained a -profound respect and esteem for so uncommon -a specimen of modern youth.</p> - -<p>There was one person, however, in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</span> -Woodburn Grange family, who looked on the -introduction of Harry Thorsby on so familiar -a footing as a real misfortune, and that was -Betty Trapps. From the first moment of his -entering the house, she regarded him with a -cold and unwelcome eye. “Well,” said she, -when asked whether she did not think him -a very pleasant man, “he is not one of my -men. I say, if I must speak my mind, -dunna put much faith in him. Beware, I -say, beware of cockatrices.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, Betty!” exclaimed the stern Ann, -“how can you be so uncharitable? Mr. -Thorsby is a most respectable gentleman, -known to be so to all Castleborough. Surely -a friend of the Degges and of the Heritages -cannot be a very bad man.”</p> - -<p>“I did not say he was a bad man,” said -Betty. “I only said he wasna one of my -sort.”</p> - -<p>“Why no,” said Letty, indignantly, “he -is not a Methodist; but for all that, it does<span class="pagenum" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</span> -not follow that he is a cockatrice. What do -you mean by cockatrices?”</p> - -<p>“Ah! Miss Letty, beware! beware!” said -Betty, looking very serious. “I say not to -your young fluttering heart more, nor to any -one else. I see a great candle and a little, -pretty, very pretty moth, a-flying round it. -If it burns its wings, then it won’t be the -fault of Betty Trapps.”</p> - -<p>Letty laughed outright. “Why, Betty, -you are growing prophetic; but what about -the cockatrices? I have often heard of such -nondescripts, but I never saw one yet.”</p> - -<p>“I’m not so sure of that,” said Betty. -“If you have not I wish you never may. -But as to this Thorsby, he crows when he -laughs. He crows and chuckles, and shakes -those black locks of his. Oh! he is too full -of wild fire by half. See if it dunna run -clean away with him one of these days.</p> - -<div class="blockquot fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 2em;">“‘A crowing hen and crowing men,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2.75em;">Twist off their heads and sleep again.’”</span><br> -</div> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</span></p> - -<p>“Betty!” said Ann, “what do you mean -with your superstitious rhymes? Would -you twist off Mr. Thorsby’s head?”</p> - -<p>“Oh no!” said Betty. “I would not -twist off his head; I’d only turn it hind -before, that when he thought he was coming -here he might be going somewhere else. I -would not trust him or his head. I only -mean that crowing hens and crowing men -are out of natur. There’s no sureness of -’em. Mark! I don’t say there’s any -guillery in this young man; but he’s no stop -in him.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said the young ladies, “we hope -you and Mr. Thorsby will become better -friends as you get to know one another -better. He thinks very much of you, -Betty.”</p> - -<p>Betty shook her head. “I’ve said my -say,” she rejoined. “What must be, must -be. It’s none of my doings nor shapings. -Pray God all come out right.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</span></p> - -<p>Thorsby was always very affable and very -pleasantly jocose with Betty. Of course, he -was not apprised of her unfavourable idea of -him; but he saw that she did not willingly -converse with him, but then he knew that -she was reckoned an oddity, and he thought -it her way. As time went on Betty seemed -to soften down a little. He frequently offered -her money when he had been staying there; -but she would never take it. “It is for the -trouble I give it you, Betty,” said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“You give me no trouble,” answered -Betty. “I have just the same to cook and to -do whether you are here or aren’t here. You -can give it to Thomasin”—the other maid.</p> - -<p>Thorsby found the very way to call Betty -out was to give her a little wipe about Methodism, -when she was sure to take up cudgels, -as she called it, on that point; but this did -not seem to raise Mr. Thorsby in her favour.</p> - -<p>As time went on the intimacy of this little -circle of families increased. Sometimes Sir<span class="pagenum" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</span> -Emanuel rode up to the Grange, and after -chatting for an hour with the ladies, and -walking with them round their garden, -noticing their trees and young broods of -different feathered stock, and telling them an -anecdote of his foreign sojourns, and then -carrying off the ever-ready Letty for a ride, -and picking up, perhaps, Miss Heritage by -the way, he would invite a number of them, -and their parents, brothers, and sisters, to -come up and spend an evening, and see the -wonders of the heavens through his great -telescope in the tower. Advancing spring -and summer drew the young people out to -rides and walks through the fields and woods, -and to boat sails on the river. Summer -made all busy at the Grange: the swarming -of bees, the making of cheese and butter, the -labourers all engaged in weeding the green -corn, and coming in in troops for plentiful -dinners and suppers, kept Betty Trapps in -constant action, and in nimble bandying of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</span> -country wit with these workpeople. Betty -sat at table and carved for them, and dealt -out sly hits to one or another as she dealt -out plates well-heaped with boiled beef or -bacon, and plenty of broad beans, cabbage, -and other vegetables. There was often more -genuine wit and humour circulating amongst -these sons of the soil than illumines the -boards of very great men.</p> - -<p>“Ah! you there, Joe Clay,” cried Betty, -“let me give you some more greens.”</p> - -<p>“O! no more greens, thank you,” said -Joe ruefully, “but a little more cabbage if -you please, Betty.”</p> - -<p>There was a loud burst of laughter, which -the uninitiated would not have seen the gist -of; but Joe Clay had married a Green, who -led him anything but a green life. Not even -Xantippe could have cut gibes with her.</p> - -<p>“How’s your wife’s mother, Nathan Hopcroft?”</p> - -<p>Nathan Hopcroft, a stupid-looking fellow,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</span> -shakes his head. “Th’ owd ooman’s stark -dead, Missis; and I canna bury her; an’ -I mun ha’ it done.”</p> - -<p>“Good rest to her,” said Betty, “she had -long ceased to know much of this world—and, -Nathan, if you canna bury her, you -know where to go.”</p> - -<p>“Where?”</p> - -<p>“To the club.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, I’ve been there, an’ said I mun ha’ it -done, but they said, ‘No, the coffer were -empty; I was very able to do’t mysen,’ an’ I -ar’n’t. Th’ pigs hanna done well this year, -and ar Jack’s rabbits has been stown—nothing -but ill luck. Nay, they wanted me -to pay th’ doctor’s bill.”</p> - -<p>“What doctor had you?”</p> - -<p>“Owd Doctor Drawatter.”</p> - -<p>“What! him with th’ pigtail and powdered -head,” said Betty, “and that fine gold-headed -cane, and that smooth finiking -voice? My gracious! that such a fine<span class="pagenum" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</span> -powdery peacock sort of a doctor should -come to you, Nathan.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, and what do you think he said? -When I told him poor folks couldna pay -doctors’ bills—they had enough to do to get -bread—he says, ‘Pooh, pooh, man! the -poor are the best off of any people; they’ve -got no dignity to support, like gentlemen, -and gentlemen doctors.’”</p> - -<p>“There’s something in that, though,” said -Betty, “though you laugh at it.”</p> - -<p>“Ay,” said another man, “if they would -na plague us wi’ lawyers and doctors, we -might do. There’s Lawyer Metthard been -selling up poor Judy Selston for rent, poor -old soul, and now she must end her days -i’ th’ workhouse.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, drat that Lawyer Metthard,” said -Betty. “He should be called Meteasy, for -he’s only too easy to meet, and not so easy -to get away from.”</p> - -<p>Betty’s sally was warmly applauded, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</span> -was sure to be reported all over the parish. -“But, Betty,” says another, “pr’ythee give -me just a spoonful more beer.”</p> - -<p>Betty, who was an English female Eulenspiegel, -though she never had heard of him -even in his English name of Owlinglass, and -often amused herself by taking people literally -at their word, took up a table-spoon, -filled it with beer, and handed it to the -astonished labourer.</p> - -<p>“Nay, Missis,” he said, “I did not mean -to be so very exact.”</p> - -<p>“Why, then, don’t people say what they -do mean?” asked Betty, gravely; “how is -one to know?”</p> - -<p>The laugh went round at the man’s expense; -and Betty suddenly calls out to a -humorous-looking little man in a soldier’s -old red jacket, at the bottom of the -table,—</p> - -<p>“Well, Tom Boddily, so you are out of -the House of Correction again, I see.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, Missis,” says Tom, who had been -shut up a few months for making free with -Sir Benjamin Bullockshed’s hares. “Yes, -Missis, and who should I meet as I was -coming home that very day, but Sir Benjamin’s -own self. It was on the Furze Bank, -where I had snickled my hares. ‘So Tom,’ -says he, ‘you are abroad again, eh? I hope -you have learned, however, now to know -your own.’ ‘Oh yes! your worship,’ says I, -‘and a little of other folks’s.’ ‘Ah! thou hast -learned too much by half,’ Sir Benjamin said, -says he, and rode on, but suddenly turning -round, ‘Eh! Boddily! here’s a gate thrown off -the hooks. Can you tell me who’s done that?’ -‘Yes, your worship,’ said I, and he looked -all alive to know. ‘Yes,’ said I, ‘I can tell -your worship. As Sir Roger Rockville says,—“It’s -either Bill Newton, or Jack Shelton, -or somebody else.”’ The squire asked no -more questions; but before he could get out -of ear-shot, I said, ‘Thank your worship for<span class="pagenum" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</span> -sending me to the Stone Jug for three -months; there’s better keep there nor at -home. I don’t know how I shall ever make -you amends, unless I come and dine with -your worship some day.’ ‘Dine with the -devil!’ he exclaimed, turning as red as -Farmer Winterwheat’s new-painted barndoor, -and digging his spurs into his innocent -horse—wishing, I reckon, as it had bin -me.”</p> - -<p>With this anecdote of Tom Boddily’s, the -whole rustic company rose, with a great -scraping of feet and scrawling of wooden -chairs on the brick floor; and sallied forth -with much laughter and approbation of -Tom’s <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">tu-quoque</i>.</p> - -<p>The summer was now in its glory. The -elder-flower scented the breeze, the pink -wild rose waved in long sprays from the -hawthorn hedges. The breeze fanned deliciously -the hot brown cheek of the milkmaid, -as she sang over her milking-pail in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</span> -golden-flowered croft. The lark sung her -lustiest and clearest strains over the heads of -mowers and haymakers at the Grange farm.</p> - -<p>It was busy time at the Grange in the -hay-season. Besides several fields of mowing-grass -on his farm on this side of the -river, Mr. Woodburn had a great extent of -hay-meadow on the other side. This hay -they got up and stacked in the field, and it -was sold thence to Castleborough. Mr. -Woodburn and George were every day busy -with the workpeople there till it was done. -They had access to these great meadows by -a primitive sort of ferry over the Trent, just -below the Grange, to which a winding hollow -lane, betwixt high banks and hedges, led. -The boat, or rather punt, was capable of -taking a horse, but not a cart over: carts -and wagons they had to take over at the -bridge, lower down the river. Anyone could -pass himself over at this punt, by pulling at -a chain which stretched across the river, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</span> -was secured at each end to a post with a -pulley. The ferry was known by the name -of “Wink’s Ferry,” from a man who once -lived in a cottage near.</p> - -<p>When the haymaking was transferred to -the home fields, everybody in the family took -an interest in it. Letty took a part, and -joined George and Betty Trapps in tossing -about the grass, and making a sport of haymaking. -Wherever she was, there was -plenty of talk and laughter; and George, -who directed the operations of the workpeople, -often saluted her with a shower of -hay, from his fork, over her head, telling her -that she would never earn salt to her porridge -at haymaking; whereupon Letty would -appeal to Betty Trapps, whether she did not -work famously, and Betty said, “Why, Miss -Letty, your laughter is worth a day’s work. -I’m sure it makes me feel young again.”</p> - -<p>Ann would come out, too, and lend a hand -soberly, but soon tiring of it and sitting<span class="pagenum" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</span> -down with her mother, who brought out her -knitting, and sate under a shady tree, enjoying -the scene. Mr. Woodburn was leisurely -at work, too; stopping, every now and then, -to lean on his rake or fork, and wipe his -brow, and calling to his wife and the girls -to come and look at a mouse-nest, with a -number of sleek young ones all in motion, -or to share the honey of some little colony -of humble-bees, clustered up in its brown -cells not unlike a round bunch of grapes.</p> - -<p>The last day of haymaking was always a -sort of haymaking fête at Woodburn Grange. -A tent was pitched under a huge-spreading -oak-tree, in a pretty hilly field opposite to -the house. A number of young people of -the neighbourhood were invited to dine in -the tent in rural fashion, and also to take -tea, if the weather was warm, on the grass in -front. On this occasion there appeared on -the ground, Miss Millicent Heritage, under the -guardianship of her mother; and Sylvanus<span class="pagenum" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</span> -Crook drove them thither, and was to assist -at the haymaking, which he liked. With -them came also a new acquaintance, at least -to the Woodburns; for he was an old friend -of the Heritages. This was a fair, amiable-looking -young man, who bore, however, the -learned title of Dr. Frank Leroy, and whom -they had all heard of as a young Quaker -physician of Castleborough, who had a very -great reputation for talent, and for skill in -his profession, having obtained diplomas, with -testimonials of the highest kind, from two or -three English as well as from foreign schools -of medicine. Any one looking at him at -that time of day wondered where the signs -of Quakerdom were, for he dressed and spoke -like any other gentleman. There was nothing, -either, very learned or formidable in his appearance. -He was courteous, agreeable in his -manners, and, as a stranger, somewhat retiring. -He soon, however, became animated on -joining the other young people, seized a fork,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</span> -and set manfully to work; and the group, -full of merriment and sport, were soon reinforced -by Harry Thorsby, overflowing with -life and frolic. Our company being collected, -we will take a closer view of the rural gathering -in another chapter.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VII">CHAPTER VII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE HAY-FIELD FÊTE.</p> - - -<p>Scarcely were the young amateur haymakers, -who, by-the-by, were furnished with -light forks and rakes suited to such delicate -hands as those of the ladies—scarcely were -all engaged in raking and throwing up the -hay into wainrow under the generalship of -George Woodburn, with much mutual merriment -over one another’s awkwardness, and -over Thorsby’s mercurial capers and flourishes—when -a novel sight arrested their -attention, and brought them all to a full -stand. It was a long procession of the -labourers, each carrying a dish, and marshalled -and watched over by Betty Trapps. -The men had finished their own dinners in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</span> -the house, and were now, on the return to -the field, made the bearers of the viands for -the gentry. Clumsy as such Ganymedes -might be supposed, they had in their time -been often employed to carry eggs and young -lambs, as well as most of them babies, and -they executed their task without a single -stumble; and soon, according to custom, a -horn was sonorously blown at the tent-door -to call the party to dinner. All came trooping -in free array, like a happy flock of pigeons -dropping down to their barley at the barndoor. -There were no leadings-in of ladies, -but all came laughing and chatting amongst -each other, and found an excellent dinner -awaiting them. I shall not chronicle the -courses; my readers can imagine all sorts -of delicacies, to which the merry troop, seating -themselves without any regard to precedence, -seemed ready to do ample justice. -Somehow, however, Dr. Leroy happened to -find his seat at the elbow of Miss Millicent<span class="pagenum" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</span> -Heritage, beaming with radiance of youth -and beauty from beneath those jetty eye-lashes; -Harry Thorsby, by an equal chance, -sate close to Letty, whose fair, fresh, heart-lit -features cast a sunshine round her; and -George, the grave but genial George Woodburn, -occupied a place betwixt Mr. and Mrs. -Degge, to whom he could show all attention. -Mr. Woodburn and Mrs. Heritage were neighbours, -and seemed to have much of interest -to talk of, in which Ann and her mother -occasionally joined, but what they said could -not be heard from the clatter of plates and -youthful tongues in full play.</p> - -<p>Betty Trapps, and Tom Boddily, in his old -soldier’s coat, waited on the company; and -Sylvanus Crook, as something more than a -servant, had a seat amongst the guests. No -happier party ever dined under an oak in a -tented field, as Thorsby called it. It was -wonderful, too, to see the dexterity and -ability with which Tom Boddily performed<span class="pagenum" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</span> -his office. Ever and anon Thorsby had a -witty word with him, and Tom was never -without his answer. “Where didst thou -learn to serve at table so nicely?” asked -Mrs. Heritage.</p> - -<p>“With my captain, madam.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! thou hast been in the army?”</p> - -<p>“Yes, madam, served fifteen years.”</p> - -<p>“And wast thou in any battles?”</p> - -<p>“Well, ma’am, I can’t say that I haven’t -been in battles, but none where much powder -was spent. I was in the militia.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that was it. Thou never wast out -of England?”</p> - -<p>“No, madam.”</p> - -<p>“And thy captain?”</p> - -<p>“That’s the present Squire Chillington, -madam. I wor his servant many years -while in the regiment.”</p> - -<p>“And how camest thee to leave him?”</p> - -<p>Tom looked significant; a smile stole round -his mouth. “Well, the captain, ma’am, left me.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed! I hope thou hast not -offended him justly, anyway?”</p> - -<p>“No, madam, oh no! not in the least; -but people may know too much, and it is -inconvenient.”</p> - -<p>There was some laughter. “Chillington, -we all know, has been a very wild fellow,” -said Mr. Woodburn; “was it not so, Tom?”</p> - -<p>“True, sir, true,” said Tom.</p> - -<p>“Tell us a little about him, when you -were with him, Tom,” said Harry Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Tom, as he continued to run -about, changing plates and attending to everybody’s -wants, “I don’t like telling tales out of -school; but since my old master signed the -warrant with Squire Bullockshed for picking -up a hare that I happened to see in a snickle”—here -Tom was drowned in a loud burst of -laughter from the gentlemen—“since he did -that, I don’t feel so tongue-tied as afore. -Well, it is true enough, my captain did sow -his wild oats pretty freely. It was a gay<span class="pagenum" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</span> -time, that regimental time. What with a -splendid mess, and fine horses, and dogs, -and fine”—Tom hesitated a moment—“fine -people of one sort or another, money did -go, though. My captain blazed away faster -than any of them. Wasn’t he heir to the -fine old estate of Beech-Lees? Well, it was -the old story: my captain wor continually -out at the elbows. Money, money, money -wor always wanted. The governor, as he -called him, that wor his honoured father, -after a while stopped dead short, and wouldn’t -out with a stiver. ‘Tom,’ he said—that worn’t -me, it wor my captain, he wor named Thomas—‘Tom,’ -he said, ‘must live on his pay.’ -Live on his pay! The pay of the whole -regiment wouldn’t have done for him. Well, -he used to write to his father’s steward to -send him money, telling him he should find -the good of it when he came to the estate. -And the steward sent him money for awhile, -but then he writ that the Squire had got an<span class="pagenum" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</span> -inkling of what he was doing, and kept such -a strict ferreting into the books, that it was -all up in that quarter. The steward remained -a good sum out of pocket.</p> - -<p>“I believe my captain had managed to -borrow considerable sums of the Jews on what -are called past-a-bits, but the Squire soon let -them know that the estate wasn’t entailed, and -that was up too, and the Jews were as keen -after him as so many hounds after a hare. -As to borrowing of any of the brother officers, -they were all pretty much of a muchness, that -is, they were all very able to borrow, but not -to lend. There was only one of them that -was able to lend, and that was the Major, and -he had the unfortunate name of Need.”—Much -laughter, and loud cachination, or what Betty -Trapps called crowing, from Thorsby.—“Major -Need was always in need. You -might as well have asked fire of a fish as -money of the Major. He always pleaded -poverty, and said the mess was really so<span class="pagenum" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</span> -extravagant, he should get all the leave of -absence that he could. And you may believe -me, he did spend the greater part of his time -at home. And what was he doing? Why, -he was just as busy as a bee in planting -a vast lot of poor, sandy land that he had -with larch trees. There he was, while my -captain and the rest of the officers were -sowing their wild oats, always busy in sowing -larch seed, and having a lot of men at work -planting the young trees out as they grew. -There you might see this poor man, who -never had a penny to lend to a brother -officer in distress, riding away to his beggarly -land not worth a rent of a shilling an acre, -mounted on a sturdy pony, bearing a sort of -bag slung on his back, with his dinner in it, -and a big pruning-knife and a little saw in it -besides—going, he was, to prune his larches -as they wanted it, and keep a sharp eye on -his men at work. Well, I was that way the -other day, and bless my stars! what a vast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</span> -of fine woods that man has, and they tell me -he is as rich as a duke, him that in our regiment’s -time never had a penny to lend or -spend.</p> - -<p>“Well, it came to a sharp pass at last -with my captain. The lady asked if I had -been in any battles. Ay, troth, I was at -that time in battles enow, with those unreasonablest -of varmint, called duns. My -captain would have been awlis in prison if -mother nature had not blest me with a -good share of contrivance, and a skull that -could stand sharp acquaintance with constables’ -staffs. Oh! if I do miss heaven at -last, it will be for all the lies I told them, for -my captain. How often I have sworn that -he was gone down to see his honoured father, -who was on his death-bed, when all the while -he was trembling in every limb behind the -door that I held in their faces.</p> - -<p>“Once I was nearly sold. Oh, my gracious! -didn’t my heart leap into my mouth!<span class="pagenum" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</span> -Things were come to such a pass that something -very ingenious must be thought of. -‘I have it,’ said I to the captain. ‘I’ll hire -a coffin, and when they come I’ll say you’re -just dead.’ ‘No, Tom!’ he said, ‘no; that -won’t do.’ Then said I, ‘I give in, and -there’s nothing for it but the debtor’s gaol.’ -Well, that cowed him. ‘Do as you like, -Tom,’ said he; and very soon I had hired -a good oak-coffin and gilt breastplate from -the undertaker just by. ‘Now,’ said I, ‘when -these fellows come thundering to-day, as I -hear they will—they swear they’ll break -locks—you just lie down in a sheet, and -leave the rest to me.’</p> - -<p>“Well, no sooner said than done. I had -hardly time to lock the door, and compose -my captain’s goodly limbs decently in the -coffin, and put the lid loosely on, when, -bang! came the constables at the door. -Quick, quick did I open. ‘Oh, is it you?’ -said I, sobbing bitterly, and with brooks of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</span> -water running from my eyes, for I had a -famous strong onion hidden in my handkerchief. -‘Oh! come in,’ said I, ‘come in, and -see what you’ve done. You’ve broken his -heart at last. There he lies! Oh, enjoy the -sight—do, do! Enjoy the misery you have -made. Oh! what hearts are bleeding down -the country there for this handsome, good-hearted -young gentleman that you’ve killed!’</p> - -<p>“I off with the coffin-lid—ghastly looked -my captain’s face, with whiting that I had -daubed it with. ‘There!’ said I, ‘you’ve -killed him. Your worrying had brought him -so low, he catched the typhus, and——’ -Here my tears stopped my voice. ‘Fie! -typhus!’ exclaimed the fellows in horror, -and out they brushed. But it was nearly all -ruination. My captain, impatient of his -coffin, lifted his head before they were well -out of the door, and said, laughing, ‘Are -those scamps gone?’ Quick one of the constables -turned, ‘Didn’t I hear something?<span class="pagenum" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</span> -Didn’t I see something stir?’ ‘Yes, yes,’ -said I, ‘you saw the wind from the door -blow the shroud up, and with it, no doubt, -the air of the fever. Ha! away!—it is as -much as your life is worth.’ The man -bolted, and for that time all was right. But -it was a very near touch, with the captain’s -impatience.” (Loud Hear, hears! and much -laughter.)</p> - -<p>“Lucky for us, the regiment marched -next day, and my captain had gone off in -the night. But at our next quarters it was -not much better. The captain was clean -swept out of money, trinkets, and of almost -all his clothes. He had a gold watch which -his mother had given him. It cost forty -guineas, and that he had kept through all. -One day he said to me on the parade ground, -‘Tom, I have left my watch on the chimney-piece -in my room. Fetch it, or I shall not -know when to dismiss the men.’ I knew -very well what it meant. He could have<span class="pagenum" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</span> -dismissed the men well enough, for the town-hall -clock was right opposite to him, as he -fronted the ranks. I knew that he meant at -last to take it to my uncle.”</p> - -<p>“Hadst thou an uncle living there?” interrupted -Mrs. Heritage.</p> - -<p>“Yes, ma’am,” replied Tom, drily. “Poor -men have uncles everywhere, and very kind -ones; their doors always stand open to them.”</p> - -<p>“I am very glad to hear it,” said Mrs. -Heritage, in her wealthy ignorance of such -uncles, and amid the stifled merriment of the -young people.</p> - -<p>“What I mean,” said Tom, “is, he meant -to put it up the spout.”</p> - -<p>“Up the spout!” said Mrs. Heritage, in -augmented astonishment. “He meant to -hide it?”</p> - -<p>Tom nodded assent.</p> - -<p>“He meant to pawn it, he means,” said Mr. -Woodburn. “That’s his slang,” seeing that -Thorsby’s good manners were choking him.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, that was it!” said Mrs. Heritage.</p> - -<p>“Yes, that was just it,” said Tom. “I -went off with a sad heart on the errand, but -I soon had a sadder. When I went into my -captain’s room, the watch was not there. I -called the landlady, and said, ‘Who has taken -Captain Chillington’s watch away?’</p> - -<p>“‘His watch?’ said the landlady, ‘why, -he sent for it!’</p> - -<p>“‘Sent for it!—by whom?’ said I.</p> - -<p>“‘Why, a young man, in a dark grey -livery and silver-laced hat, came for it. He -said he was Major Need’s man, and Captain -Chillington had asked him to come and fetch -his watch from the parlour mantel-piece, and -his overcoat from the peg in the passage.’</p> - -<p>“The ground seemed opening under my -feet. ‘Did he say where the watch was?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes,’ said the landlady.</p> - -<p>“‘And the overcoat on the peg?’</p> - -<p>“‘He did,’ said she, now all in a tremor of -fright. ‘He seemed to know so exactly all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</span> -about them, that I never suspected nothing -at all.’</p> - -<p>“‘And the coat’s gone, too?’ said I, looking -into the passage.</p> - -<p>“‘That’s sartain,’ said the woman.</p> - -<p>“I rushed out; there was no time to lose. -I ran round to all the pawnbrokers first; then -to the police-office; then to the town-crier. I -offered five pounds reward to any one who -would detect the thief; I did that on my -own head; I did not go to the parade—it -would have been of no use—it would -have been over—and I did not like to -break the news. When I came back chop-fallen -to our lodgings, there was my captain. -The landlady had told him all. There he -sate, dropped down into a low chair, and he -looked now more like a corpse than he did in -the coffin. He never spoke. I was horribly -afraid that he’d go off into an apoplexy, or -something, or lose his senses. ‘Captain,’ -said I, ‘you’ve heard it.’ He never moved.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</span> -‘Captain!’ said I again, louder, and shook -him by the shoulder. ‘It is no use sorrowing -or fretting, we must be wide awake to -recover the property.’</p> - -<p>“Then he gave a great sigh, and seemed -to rouse a little. ‘It is of no use,’ he said; -‘that was an old hand, that thief. Catch a -weazel asleep, and shave his eye-brows. You’ll -never catch that scamp. It is all up, Boddily. -That was my last throw. There is not a single -stone in this cursed world left unturned,’ and -he went quite stupid and stony again.</p> - -<p>“‘Captain,’ said I, ‘it is of no use talking -that way. We must be after the fellow, we -shall catch him before he leaves the town. -Faint heart never won fair lady. Rouse, -captain, rouse; we’ll have him yet, and all -will be well.’</p> - -<p>“But you might as well have tried to rouse -a milestone. At last he burst into tears, and -he cried like a child, and rocked to and fro -in his chair with his face buried in his hands.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</span> -He sprang up suddenly, and snatched a -pistol from the mantel-piece; I tore it from -his hand.</p> - -<p>“‘Are you mad, captain?’ I said. -‘Would you go headlong to everlasting -destruction, and kill your mother with -grief?’ That seemed to sober him a little. -‘Cheer up,’ said I; ‘it’s an old saying, -“When things come to the worst, they begin -to mend.”’</p> - -<p>“‘Never with me, Tom,’ he said, throwing -himself down, and looking the pictur o’ -despair. ‘Never with me—all’s up. I’m a -doomed man—nothing prospers with me.’</p> - -<p>“I could have told him why they did not -prosper, soon enough; but he’d enough on -him without any cut from me. As for me, I -was at my wits’ end. How should I manage -to keep him from laying violent hands on -himself? I was about to ring for the landlady, -and, while telling her to bring some -brandy, whisper to her to run for help—when,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</span> -bang! comes a thundering knock at the -door. ‘Lock it, quick, woman!’ said I. -But even that did not rouse my captain. -‘They are there, again, let them come,’ he -said—‘let them do their worst.’</p> - -<p>“The landlady, however, had opened the -door on the chain. Women are awlis -sharper about such things than we are. In -she comes with a letter and a great black -seal with a coat of arms. The captain -glanced at it,—he pounced on it like a hawk—he -tore it open and read. His hand -trembled, then shook violently—the letter -dropped, and he dropped, too. I caught him -in my arms. ‘Water!’ I cried, ‘water! -brandy!’ The landlady flew. We drenched -him with water; we tried to force some -brandy between his teeth, but couldn’t. -They were set as fast as rocks. At length -he gave a deep sike (sigh), opened his eyes, -and drank off the whole glass of brandy.</p> - -<p>“‘Troubles never comes alone,’ he said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</span> -beginning to speak. ‘The governor is dead, -Tom; we must be off to-night for Beech-Lees; -run and take our places in the night-coach.’ -He tried to look as if the blow of -this news had been a stunner, but I could see -that it was huge relief. Mountains were off -his shoulders. The governor was past all <em>his</em> -troubles, and there was that fine old property -of Beech-Lees. I had no further fear about -my captain.</p> - -<p>“‘But,’ said I—‘I’ll run to the coach—but -the money for the fares?’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh!’ said he, looking about for the fallen -letter, ‘there’s money enough.’</p> - -<p>“I picked it up, and another bit of -paper.</p> - -<p>“‘That’s it,’ said he. ‘There’s no want of -money, now.’ It was a Bank of England -note for one hundred pounds. ‘Get the -Major to change it into small notes,’ he said. -‘He has always bushels of them.’</p> - -<p>“I was running out to take our places,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</span> -when I went slap up against a constable. -‘The carrion have got scent of the carcass -already,’ said I to myself. The next moment -I saw my captain’s gold watch in his hand. -‘We have found this,’ he said, ‘at a pawnbroker’s, -pledged for five pounds.’ ‘All -right,’ said the captain. ‘Catch the man, -and I’ll give you fifty pounds, and come and -prosecute the thief.’</p> - -<p>“He took the watch. ‘That’s it,’ he said; -and put it in his pocket.</p> - -<p>“‘But we shall want that,’ said the man, -‘when we charge the thief before the magistrate.’</p> - -<p>“‘Catch your hare, and then we’ll cook -him,’ said my captain, now grown quite -cheery. The man looked as if he would -have the watch back to produce in court. -‘When you have the thief,’ said the captain, -‘you will have both the watch and myself to -produce; in the meantime, Tom, take this -good fellow, and give him a couple of guineas,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</span> -for his present trouble; be quick, we have no -time to spare.’</p> - -<p>“That night we were on the way; the next -morning we were at Beech-Lees. Soon after -Captain Chillington got married, and made -a thorough change in his establishment. -Among the rest, I went to the wall; but I -would not have minded, after all we suffered -together in our sogering days, if he hadn’t -signed that warrant of Squire Bullockshed’s. -That was a cut that will stick by me till the -day of my death.”</p> - -<p>By this time, the dinner was over, the -dishes all removed, for Tom Boddily had -been rapidly serving and changing all the -time he talked. A splendid dessert was set -on the table, of grapes and peaches from the -hot-houses of Rockville, mellow gooseberries, -raspberries, strawberries, and cherries from -the Grange garden; and Tom made his bow -amid many thanks for his story, and withdrew -with Betty Trapps, to play his part<span class="pagenum" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</span> -amongst the wainrows. Great commendations -were heaped on Tom for his ability in -both telling a story and waiting at table, -and his services were not likely to be -neglected on fitting occasions from that -day.</p> - -<p>Soon after this, Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn -and Mrs. Heritage rose and walked out into -the pleasant sunny air of the field. A soft -breeze was blowing, or rather breathing over -the warm, dry country. Mr. Woodburn joined -Mr. and Mrs. Degge, and Mrs. Woodburn and -Mrs. Heritage wandered up the field where it -was cleared of the hay, and seated themselves -on a bank beneath a noble crab-apple-tree -covered with green fruit. They appeared -deeply absorbed in conversation, and any one -listening might have caught frequently the -names of Sir Emanuel Clavering, his son -Henry, and of Ann Woodburn. There was a -mother’s care in the usually bright and -comely face of Mrs. Woodburn: there was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</span> -higher care in the noble countenance of Mrs. -Heritage.</p> - -<p>“Then thou dost not think,” she said, looking -earnestly at Mrs. Woodburn, “that he -really does practise ungodly arts?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!” replied Mrs. Woodburn. “That -is all the silly talk of the silly, superstitious -country people—that is, country people of all -sorts—for the farmers are as superstitious -as the labourers: and when Sir Emanuel -appeared at the hustings at Castleborough -to nominate a friend of his as candidate for -a parliamentary seat for the county, the -farmers set up a great yell, and would not -hear him, saying, ‘That is old Clavering -who deals with the Devil.’ But it is all because -he is a great astronomer, and is seen -going out at night to his observatory. The -truth is, as I believe—and a sad truth it -is, he does not believe in our Saviour.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! how very sad! how very deplorable!” -said the pious-hearted Friend. “I feel<span class="pagenum" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</span> -greatly drawn to speak with him on the subject. -Such a very clever and agreeable man -as he is; and to be so far overseen. Truly it -is sad that this world’s knowledge makes us -blind. And his son Henry, dost thou think -he has instilled these unhappy sentiments into -him?”</p> - -<p>Here Mrs. Woodburn bent closer to her -friend, and the conversation became still more -earnest and engrossing, but carried on in a -low tone, and with many pauses, and significant -looks and gestures, and not unfrequent -deeply-drawn sighs.</p> - -<p>But the sounds from the tent below, which -had been hitherto those of a continuous -clatter of tongues, and of merry laughter, -now came forth in a chorus of singing voices, -in which the bass tones of Thorsby were predominant -amid the clear, sweet voices of the -young ladies. The tent was like a great cage -of warbling birds, or as Mrs. Woodburn said, -of happy angels. “Oh!” said she, “I do<span class="pagenum" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</span> -love to see young people happy. No one -knows what after-life may bring. For youth—so -a poem which I saw in the newspaper -the other day said—</p> - -<div class="blockquot fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 2.5em;">‘It is the time of roses,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2.75em;">They pluck them as they pass.’”</span><br> -</div> - -<p>“I only hope,” said the careful Mrs. Heritage, -“that they won’t teach my Millicent -any vanities. She is naturally, I think, only -too fond of music and singing; and thou -knowest our Society sees such a snare in -these things.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! my dear Mrs. Heritage, Miss Heritage -will hear nothing here but what is perfectly -good. They have been singing only -Burns’s sweet ‘Banks and Braes o’ bonnie -Doon.’”</p> - -<p>To the fair Friend, whatever might be the -moral qualities of “Bonnie Doon” was all unknown; -but the discussion was cut short by -the whole youthful troop issuing from the -tent, and going briskly across the field, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</span> -disappearing in a wood that ran down towards -the river. Nothing more was heard of them -till tea-time, except an occasional call of a -clear, female voice, or a note of laughter, for -awhile, and then all was still. About five -o’clock, the workmen having their “four-o’-clock,” -as it is termed, amid the haycocks, -were seen bringing up the apparatus and -materials for tea, which was not set out in the -tent, but this time amongst the hay in front, -abundance of cushions being brought for the -company to sit upon. Once more the horn -was lustily winded, this time by Mr. Woodburn, -George having gone off with the rest of -the young people: and, anon, like Robin -Hood and his men, they were seen coming -gaily over the hill.</p> - -<p>They all came in glowing with heat and -evident pleasure. Letty Woodburn looked -like a sylph, but a very rosy one, all light and -gladness, as if ready to fly away: even the -gentle Millicent’s clear blue eyes flashed a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</span> -radiant enjoyment. According to their account -they had been taking botanic lessons -from Dr. Leroy, and had suddenly come upon -Mr. Thomas Clavering, the rector of Cotmanhaye, -fishing in the river, who had amused -them with a world of anecdotes about birds -and animals. He had assured them that he -had seen a jay with an audience of wondering -birds all around him on a tree, whom he -was astonishing by the cleverest imitations of -different singing birds.</p> - -<p>Thereupon Sylvanus Crook said he quite -believed that. He was “quite satisfied that -birds sing songs of praise to their Creator -quite intelligible to birds.”</p> - -<p>“But,” said Harry Thorsby, “they always -sing the same airs.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, Henry Thorsby, it may seem so to -thee; but in my opinion, if we could understand -them, we should find them poets far beyond -many of our own kind. They do not, -indeed, sing about men’s actions, but of the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</span> -goodness of God to birds, and of the beauties -and pleasures of creation. Hast thou not -heard, friend Henry, of the Eastern Sultan’s -minister who knew the language of birds?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that’s a fable, friend Crook,” said -Thorsby, “an Eastern apologue.”</p> - -<p>“Maybe,” said Sylvanus; “but I think -that is a very beautiful observation of Izaak -Walton, the great angler; who on hearing -the nightingale sing, said:—‘If God gave -such music here to the wicked and ungrateful, -what will He give to his saints in -heaven?’”</p> - -<p>“So you do like music after all, friend -Crook?” asked Thorsby, sarcastically.</p> - -<p>“Yes, natural music,” said Sylvanus, and -Harry Thorsby was girding him up for a -regular dispute on the Friend’s objection to -music, but he was prevented by all seconding -Sylvanus’s quotation of Izaak Walton as extremely -beautiful, and by Mr. Woodburn -asking Tom Boddily what he had been doing<span class="pagenum" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</span> -lately, intending to draw out some of his -country humour.</p> - -<p>“I’ve been a little on my travels,” said -Tom.</p> - -<p>“Oh, indeed! where?”</p> - -<p>“Well, I crossed an arm of the sea, as my -companion, simple Simon Grainger, called it, -and got into a country on the other side.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! where did you cross this arm of -the sea?”</p> - -<p>“At a place called Sawley.”</p> - -<p>“Sawley!” said several voices at once. -“Why, that is on the Trent, Tom.”</p> - -<p>“Well, I dare say it is; but Grainger, who -never was five miles from home, insisted that -it was an arm of the sea.”</p> - -<p>“And what did you do on the other side, -Tom?”</p> - -<p>“We were employed in getting gravel for -roads out of the river Soar with a machine, -and Grainger had a fine opportunity of earning -a guinea in less time than he ever earned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</span> -a groat in his life, if he had had faith -enough.”</p> - -<p>“Not faith enough?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Tom. “You see, a gentleman, -as he was crossing the ferry near us, pulled -out his gold watch to look at the time, and -let it drop into the river. It was quite plain -to be seen, for the river is as clear almost -as air, but it was deeper than it seemed. -The gentleman tried to get it up with his -stick, but could not reach it, and he offered -a guinea to any of the passengers as would -fetch it up. None of them would. So the -ferryman calls to us, and says to Grainger, -‘Old fellow, you’ve good six feet of stuff in -you; just jump in and get hold of the watch, -and there’s a guinea for you.’ ‘No, thank -you,’ said Grainger; ‘don’t you believe it; -I can trust God Almighty on the ground, or -in a tree, but not i’ th’ water.’ It was no -use urging him. ‘Stop a minute,’ said I, -‘I’m but a short ‘un, but there are more<span class="pagenum" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</span> -ways than one of roasting apples.’ So I -asked the gentleman to lend me his stick. -‘It’s not long enough, my man,’ says he. -‘Isn’t it?’ says I, taking the stick. I just -laid mysen down on the boat, stripped my -arm bare to the shoulder, and in a jiffy -I had twisted the hook of the stick into -the guard-chain, and up comes the watch, -and down goes the guinea into my pocket. -‘There’s not much of thee,’ said the gentleman, -looking at me, as he handed me the -guinea; ‘but thou’st got thy share of -brains.’”</p> - -<p>Sylvanus thought Grainger’s speech almost -impious, not to trust God in the water as -well as on the land. “Ah! poor, ignorant -man,” said Mrs. Heritage, “his faith only -stops short at one point, and ours at another. -Is there not a limit to the faith of every one -of us?” she asked. “Would not Sylvanus -find a limit to his faith in some other direction?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</span></p> - -<p>“Ay, that he would,” said Thorsby, as he -lay kicking his legs about in the hay. “Let -him walk over burning ploughshares as they -did in the middle ages.”</p> - -<p>“As for that,” said Sylvanus, “I could -walk over them readily enough, but I would -decline walking upon them.”</p> - -<p>“Would your faith enable you to climb up -the church-steeple and stand on the weather-cock, -and turn round upon it, as a foolish -fellow did the other day?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Sylvanus, “there, friend Henry, -thou hast indeed found my limit. My faith -is not a foolish faith. I would not tempt -Providence.”</p> - -<p>“Well, dear friends,” said Mrs. Heritage, -as if afraid that the conversation might take -a rather caustic turn, “I think the evening -warns us to remove. Dear Millicent, draw -thy shawl round thee, and our other dear -young women friends I would caution to do -the same. You have been warm with your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</span> -little excursion. And here I would remark -that it is the custom of our Society on social -occasions, sometimes to drop into a little -solemn silence, in which something beneficial -may arise in our minds. I would kindly -invite you to such an exercise.”</p> - -<p>When all had fallen into a silence, which -to some of them was a rather curious thing -amid the pleasures of a festive day, Mrs. Heritage, -at first in a soft and musical voice, -which by degrees acquired depth and earnestness, -said—“Dear friends, this has been a -beautiful, and to all of us, I think, a very -happy day. Let us not forget to be grateful -to the Giver of it, and of all good gifts. Days -come and go, and, however stationary we -may seem, we are going with them. The -bloom and gaiety of youth, beautiful as it is, -is evanescent as the glories of yon western -sky.”</p> - -<p>At these words all involuntarily turned, -and saw one of the most glorious and gorgeous<span class="pagenum" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</span> -spectacles imaginable. All the western -sky was flooded with waves of gold and -purple, burning in and through clouds of -richest magnificence. An opening in them -gave passage to the blaze of the departing -sun, and resembled the gates of heaven -thrown wide, and, within them, far receding -regions of celestial splendour. All below, -under the effect of this intense radiance, -looked dark and mysterious, like a weird -land of cimmerian shadow that might hide -some mystery.</p> - -<p>The fair speaker paused awhile as every -eye was earnestly fixed on the scene, then -went on, as if speaking the thought of every -bosom. “Truly ‘this may be said to be the -house of God, and this is the gate of heaven.’ -What power but that of almighty wisdom -could suddenly put forth a celestial emblazonment -like that? What architect could design -such a wondrous and portentous portal to -imperial city or palace? What painter could<span class="pagenum" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</span> -suffuse it with hues and glories so divine? -Yet, such is the prodigality of the Omnipotent -Artist, who has sent forth, in a moment -almost, that glorious vision, that in a few -moments He will suffer it to depart, as if it -were of no value. We, or most of us, visit -the galleries of great painters; we gaze in -enthusiasm on the imitations of nature which -they hang upon our walls, and decree immortality -to them for their inspired achievement; -yet the King of artists every day spreads -before our eyes, and the eyes of the simplest -and the poorest, landscapes and aerial paintings -which no mortal hand can ever equal, -and no man lays it to heart. The peasant, -returning home at this hour along some solitary -vale, sees a picture such as no so-called -immortal master ever accomplished, such as -no king’s house can boast. Yet we feel -no wonder; we utter no praise. Behold! -and the marvellous scene is gone!”</p> - -<p>All again turned, and saw but a grey, dull<span class="pagenum" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</span> -sky, and below the solemn gloom deepened -into intense blackness. The speaker paused; -her fair, finely-developed face, seemed rapt -as into an ecstasy, still and passionless; it -was as if the inner eye looked spirit-like -through the outer, and saw deep into the -looming night of the western quarter. A -deep sigh escaped her, and with softer and -strangely thrilling tones, she said,</p> - -<p>“I feel it, dear friends, laid solemnly upon -me to utter words which seem not to befit a -day of gladness. My spirit wrestles with it, -and would flee from the burden, as the -Hebrew prophet fled from the burden of -Nineveh; but a mightier, holier power compels -me, and I must obey.” A strange -shudder passed through the youthful listeners, -and Letty, greatly excited, half -sprang up and cried, “Oh, don’t! don’t!” -But George quietly held her down, and -put his arm round her, clasping her with -brotherly affection. The speaker, as if unconscious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</span> -of the sensation she had evoked, -went on.</p> - -<p>“Beautiful, very beautiful was yonder sky; -beautiful, very beautiful are the days which -have passed here. Dark, however, the gloom -which underlay that glory of colours. I -feel some of us, perhaps many of us, perhaps -all, more or less, baptised into that darkness. -We are passing deep into its shadowy regions. -We are pilgrims and wayfarers through the -valley of the shadow of death, through the -midnight wastes of blackness and despair. Oh! -thou heavenly and tender Father! extend -thy omnipotent hand. Lift us over the torrents -rolling through the deep, deep darkness; -bear us up in thy loving, unforsaking arms!”</p> - -<p>The speaker paused, and sate still as a -stone image. Her eyes were open, but the -awed and affrighted circle could not tell for -their lives on what they rested. Again, -slowly lifting her hand, and pointing westward, -she said—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, ever-living, ever-merciful Father, -Thou dost lead us. It is borne in upon my -heart to know and feel that to all who hold -fast their faith, there shall be a safe re-issue -from the temporary gloom. Not a hair shall -fall from the head of any of us. Thou -wilt baptise us into sorrow, only to inspire -us with wisdom, with faith, with love. -Over that gloom of a little time, again the -heavenly glow of Thy divine pencil, the -radiance of Thy inner and inexhaustible -beams of beauty, shall steal abroad; and the -latter shall be lovelier, though more subdued, -than the former pageant. All Thy colours -of life shall be clearer, purer, more lofty, -more etherial. The after-glow of our evening -shall be more tenderly fair, more serenely -blessed, than our noon has been strong and -rejoicing. Amen!”</p> - -<p>During the latter part of this startling -address, the eyes of the company had mechanically -followed the hand of the speaker, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</span> -saw the colours of the sunset once more -travel out, kindle anew, as it were, all over -the western sky in most exquisite and trancelike -beauty. It seemed as if the inspired -woman had command of the elements, and -that their magic limnings followed the motion -of her hand; the soul within, however, did -but follow the course of nature and the -promptings of God. How often, in future -years, did every member of that company -reflect on these words with wonder, though -they now somewhat offended the sense of -fitness in many of those who deemed auguries -of evil ill-timed as the finale of a day of -youthful rejoicing. The speaker, however, -rose up, and, without any apology, shook -hands with Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, said -“Farewell” to her young friends, and taking -Millicent’s arm, walked silently towards the -Grange, at whose gate her carriage and that -of the Degges were waiting to take them -home.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</span></p> - -<p>All the rest followed in silence. At the -gate of the Grange Mr. Woodburn pressed -Mrs. Heritage to go in and take some supper, -but she declined, the carriages rolled away, -and the company dispersed. Harry Thorsby, -however, went in, and remained for some -time. But no one was inclined for supper, -though a very charming one was set out, -with abundance of creams, and custards, and -other rural dainties. Letty was in a state of -strange excitement. She appeared quite hysterical, -now bursting into tears, now laughing -outright, and at length sunk down in a fainting -fit on the sofa. There was great alarm -and agitation; but Mr. Woodburn said, “Be -quiet; don’t disturb her; only stand back, -and let her have air; she will soon be -better.”</p> - -<p>“It is that silly, preaching woman,” said -Thorsby. “What does she mean by coming -here and croaking of all sorts of trouble, like -a confounded old beldame as she is?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</span></p> - -<p>“Gently!” said Leonard Woodburn. “If -no evil is meant us, Mrs. Heritage cannot -and does not wish to bring it. If some evil -does impend over us—for what mortal shall -say that he is insurance-proof against it?—let -us rather pray earnestly that it may be -averted, or that we may have strength given -us to bear it. But all that she means, probably, -are the inevitable trials that this life -sends us all. It is merely her Quaker language.”</p> - -<p>By this time Letty had recovered her consciousness, -opened her eyes, sprung up, saying, -“Oh! what have I been doing? Why -are you all standing there, and looking so -strange?”</p> - -<p>“My dear child,” said Mrs. Woodburn, -kissing her, “you were too much excited by -Mrs. Heritage’s sermon; you have fainted; -you had better go to bed.”</p> - -<p>Letty gave a shudder, wiped her face, on -which the tears stood glittering, and said,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</span> -“Oh, why <em>did</em> she talk so! What <em>could</em> possess -her! Yes, mother dear, I will go to -bed.” She smiled, kissed her father, throwing -her arms round his neck, shook hands -with the rest, and sprang away upstairs, -followed by Ann—who was also deeply -moved—and her mother.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_VIII">CHAPTER VIII.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">A NICE SAMPLE OF FARMERS.</p> - - -<p>About ten o’clock in the morning, Harry -Thorsby rode into the farm-yard at Woodburn -Grange, gave his horse to the groom, -and entered the house-place from the garden. -There sat the whole family—a perfectly rural -group—George excepted. The ample bay-window -of that large cool room was thrown -open on the sunny side, and the sunshine and -shadow flickered pleasantly amongst the rose -and jasmine boughs round the window. On -the cool brick-floor stood a large basket of -ripe gooseberries, and Mrs. Woodburn and -Ann were busy clipping off their eyes and -stalks, and dropping them into dishes on -their knees, in preparation for preserving.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</span> -Mr. Woodburn sat on the other side of the -circle, shelling peas—a job he was very fond -of—into a shallow basket on his knees, from -a large one on another chair at his side. -Letty sat on a scarlet cushion on the floor in -the middle, reading from some book to the -rest. She was in a white morning-dress, -and Thorsby’s eyes were first directed to -her.</p> - -<p>“Good morning!” said he, pleasantly, -“all you very useful people. And you, -Letty?”</p> - -<p>Letty brightened up with a rosy blush -and brilliant eyes, and said, “Oh, quite -well!”</p> - -<p>“What, no worse for that Jeremiad yesterday?”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no!—why should I? As father -says, it was only Quaker phraseology.”</p> - -<p>“Then I wish,” said Thorsby, seating himself, -“she would keep it exclusively for the -Quakers.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, I really wish she would,” said Ann. -“Poor, dear Letty was very much put out by -it. She was very restless and feverish in her -sleep. She slept with her eyes partly open, -and glistening, which frightened me, for I got -up, the night being light, several times, to -look at her, and woke her because she was -trying to cry out in her dreams.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, I was dreaming all sorts of horrid -impossibilities,” said Letty, laughing; “climbing -over the tops of houses, and the like, and -not knowing how to get down.”</p> - -<p>“Ah, there it is!” said Thorsby. “I shall -call and tell that dove-coloured Pythoness -that this sort of thing won’t do.”</p> - -<p>“No!” exclaimed all the family at once, -Letty more energetically than the rest, “you -must not do that. It would grieve poor Mrs. -Heritage so; and there is nothing amiss. I -am quite well,” said Letty.</p> - -<p>“Grieve poor Mrs. Heritage, indeed!” -replied Thorsby. “These canting, religious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</span> -people, however, don’t care whom they -grieve.”</p> - -<p>“I cannot agree to that, Mr. Thorsby,” -said Ann. “No nobler-hearted or more -humane woman lives than Mrs. Heritage.”</p> - -<p>“I think,” said Thorsby, “they are selfish, -money-grubbing people, these Quakers; -and that there’s not much to choose between -‘the Quaker sly’ and canting Methodist.”</p> - -<p>“Or a backbiting profanian!” said a voice -behind.</p> - -<p>Thorsby turned quickly round, and exclaimed, -“Oh, Betty Trapps, so you are -there! eh?”</p> - -<p>Betty had come in for a pie-dish from the -great cupboard, and caught the fling at the -Methodists just as she was going out.</p> - -<p>“Ah! just in time, Betty,” said Thorsby. -“I’ve got a pleasant anecdote for you.”</p> - -<p>Betty was moving off, without deigning a -reply, when Thorsby said—</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</span></p> - -<p>“You know that your old acquaintance, -Molly Ayre, is dead?”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Betty, stopping at once. “No. -Is it true?”</p> - -<p>“True as gospel,” said Thorsby; “and I -want to tell you her dying sayings.”</p> - -<p>Betty was riveted to the spot by the news -of Molly Ayre’s departure and her dying -sayings, for she had a great veneration for -dying sayings.</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Thorsby, addressing the company -at large, “you know that old Sam -Ayre, as we familiarly call him, is a bag-hosier,—that -is, he possesses a score of -stocking-frames, employs as many stockingers, -and brings in his hose to our warehouse. -Molly, his wife, kept a little shop. -They were both zealous Methodists, and -Sam——”</p> - -<p>“You might as well say ‘Samuel,’ Mr. -Thorsby,” interrupted Betty.</p> - -<p>“And Sam, or Samuel, is a class-leader in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</span> -high repute. Yesterday comes somebody -begging my mother to go to Mr. Ayre’s, as -the Missis was dying. Molly Ayre had been -a servant at my grandfather’s. My mother -hurried off. The poor woman evidently was -near her end, and was giving some last directions -to her husband, who sat, burly man as -he is, drowned in tears on the bed-side.</p> - -<p>“‘Well,’ continued the dying woman, ‘my -dear Samuel, thou’ll find all th’ accounts o’ -th’ shop right in th’ book in that drawer -there. There’s forty pounds owing to different -people, principally to Mr. Fairfax, the -grocer. Thou’ll see it punctually paid?’</p> - -<p>“‘Eh! poor dear soul!’ said the husband, -‘wandering! You see she’s quite wandering!’</p> - -<p>“‘And,’ continued the dying wife, ‘there’s -a good deal more owing to us. Thou’ll find -it all down i’ the book; and i’ th’ same -drawer a good heap of money in a stocking.’</p> - -<p>“‘Eh! blessed, dear creetur!’ said Ayre,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</span> -the tears streaming down his cheeks—‘poor, -dear creetur! Sensible to th’ last minute!—sensible -to th’ last minute!’”</p> - -<p>“Oh, get out with thy profanities!” said -Betty, going out, and pulling the door after -her smartly; not even staying to hear how -Molly Ayre went at last.</p> - -<p>The whole Woodburn family could not help -laughing heartily at this picture of human -nature, though they were afraid it might -reach Betty’s indignant ears.</p> - -<p>“As to the Quakers, however,” continued -Mr. Woodburn, “I must assert that though -they are devoted to getting money, some of -them make a very good use of it. The -Heritages are extremely benevolent, and expend -large sums every year in adding to the -comforts and in promoting education amongst -the poor, both in Woodburn and in the far -greater field of Castleborough.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, and they gather in plenty to do it -with,” said Thorsby. “Why, Mr. Heritage’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</span> -gold may go out by pecksfull, but it flows in -by bushelsfull.”</p> - -<p>“That may be,” said Mr. Woodburn, “but -it does not alter my position. Look, then, at -Mr. Dell. Now, he is a man who is not in -their Society, but he goes to their meeting, -and associates with them, from his sense of -their more thoroughly moral character than -that of most other people. There is a man -who is always planning some good for the -people. He has himself built and endowed -a free school for the poor; and has worked -actively in creating public gardens and public -walks in all directions.”</p> - -<p>“And that intelligent and liberal man,” -said Thorsby, “can go and sit two mortal -hours, on a Sunday morning, in their meetings, -where not a word is uttered! Wonderful!”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Mr. Woodburn, “that is -rather wonderful; but then he tells me that -he takes the Bible in his pocket, and reads a -chapter or two, and meditates on it.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</span></p> - -<p>“He might do that at home,” said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“He might,” said Mr. Woodburn, “and we -might and may leave people to their peculiar -notions of what suits them best,” quietly proceeding -with his pea-shelling. “And look, -again, at that brave old man, William Fairfax, -the eminent grocer and hop-dealer. Did -you ever see a picture of the great law reformer, -Jeremy Bentham? or of Benjamin -Franklin?”</p> - -<p>“Of Franklin, of course,” said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“Well,” continued Mr. Woodburn, “there -is a great general resemblance in the persons -of these three great men, for I place Mr. -Fairfax in the scale of great men. They -were, and he is, of middle height and strong -build. They had, and Mr. Fairfax has, a -style of countenance with strong features, -somewhat prominent nose, and their hair -hanging in abundance on their shoulders. -Mr. Fairfax dresses, as you know, in plain -drab, with waistcoat long and with flaps; and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</span> -he may often be seen going about the town -without his hat, and looking very abstracted, -and with one hand thrust into his waistcoat -about half-way down.</p> - -<p>“Now there is a man who, if he had had -the same education, or the same ambition, as -Franklin or Bentham, would have achieved -as great a reputation, for he has as great and -original abilities. It is lucky for Castleborough, -however, that his lot is cast there. -He has always stood forth for the good and -independence of the place without any regard -to his own interest.”</p> - -<p>“But his interests have flourished finely,” -said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“True,” added Mr. Woodburn, “but not -the less true his daring and noble independence. -Awhile ago, Lord Middleton sent -his servant to say, that if Mr. Fairfax did not -vote for the Tory candidate for one of the -borough seats in Parliament, he would withdraw -his custom. ‘Tell thy master, young<span class="pagenum" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</span> -man,’ said Mr. Fairfax, ‘that I am not an -Esau to sell my birthright for a mess of -pottage. He is free to take his custom -where he pleases.’ His lordship withdrew -his custom accordingly, but he soon found -that he could not get served so well anywhere -else, and so went back to Mr. Fairfax’s -shop. But the most remarkable thing -is, that Mr. Fairfax has never paid a penny -of the property tax.”</p> - -<p>“And do you call that honest, Mr. Woodburn?” -asked Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“Yes, perfectly so, in his case. The law -was expressly stated, in the preamble to the -act, to be for the prosecution of the war. -Mr. Fairfax, as a Quaker, has a decided -objection to war, as unchristian. He could -not pay it; but he was quite ready to allow -the law to take his property for that purpose. -He was willing to suffer, though he could -not conscientiously pay the tax voluntarily. -Well, what was the consequence? Distraints<span class="pagenum" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</span> -were made repeatedly on his goods for the -amount. Nobody would buy them; and -they were always bought back at the expiration -of the number of days prescribed by -law. At length the Commissioners sent for -him. William Fairfax walked into their presence -without his hat, and with his right-hand, -as usual, thrust into his waistcoat.</p> - -<p>“‘Mr. Fairfax,’ said the clerk to the Commissioners—a -man of very dubious character, -I must say—‘Mr. Fairfax, what trouble you -give us. It is the law of the land, and you -must obey it.’</p> - -<p>“‘If,’ said Mr. Fairfax, ‘Parliament passes -an act to set up Nebuchadnezzar’s image -again, wouldst bow down to it?’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ said the clerk. ‘I would fly my -country first!’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes, the wicked flee when no man -pursueth,’ said Mr. Fairfax, quietly; ‘the -righteous stands his ground as bold as a -lion.’</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</span></p> - -<p>“Mr. Fairfax stood erect, grave, and without -moving a muscle, in the midst of the -circle of Commissioners, who burst into a -roar of laughter at the hard hit which their -lawyer clerk had received. William Fairfax -walked unmoved out of the room, and a few -weeks after the act was repealed. He never -paid a penny of it.”</p> - -<p>“Then I think he should,” said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“I don’t,” said Mr. Woodburn. “I think -every man should stand boldly by his conscientious -convictions. Mr. Fairfax did not -care a straw about the amount of the tax. -It was the public of Castleborough, doing -homage to his uprightness, that refused to -mulct him with the tax and the costs of -the distraint. I could tell you many other -remarkable acts of this genuine Quaker, as -far from any cant or selfishness as Pole is -from Pole; but I see George standing with a -proposition in his face.”</p> - -<p>“Yes,” said George, “it is a most delicious<span class="pagenum" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</span> -forenoon. The air is blowing charmingly, -and tempers the heat. I am going to Hillmartin -and a little beyond, and I want you, -Letty, to mount Fairaway, and have a gallop -in the breeze. It is what you want to take -the dismals out of your blood. Ann, what -say you?”</p> - -<p>“I say that I shall stay and help mother; -but, Letty, by all means, and Mr. Thorsby -will join you.”</p> - -<p>“Of course he will,” said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“Your horse is saddled, Letty,” added -George. “I will have him brought out, and -so away, and get on your habit.”</p> - -<p>Letty was soon arrayed in hat and habit, -looking as fresh and blithe as if nothing had -disturbed her nerves: and anon the three, -with Letty in the middle, were taking their -way up the ascending road towards Hillmartin. -It was, as George had said, a delicious -July day. Over the sky light clouds -were scattered; the breeze, soft yet fresh,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</span> -made the sun genial and not oppressive. -The wild roses wound fragrantly from the -tall hedges, and the light-blue buglos, and -the lighter-blue chicory—the latter with -flowers as if cut out of silk, and stuck -formally on the stalks—studded the sandy -banks of the wide heathery lane that they -rode along. The wheat-fields stood green, -but in full ear, and the convolvulus and the -scarlet poppy showed themselves gaily round -the borders of the corn-fields.</p> - -<p>“I never see those flaunting field-poppies -now,” said George Woodburn, “without -thinking of that young poet Keats:—</p> - -<div class="blockquot fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 2.3em;">‘Those scarlet poppies, which do bring to mind</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2.75em;">The scarlet coats which trouble human kind.’”</span><br> -</div> - -<p>“Ah!” said Letty, “but I think more -fondly of Ruth, in the ‘Ode to the Nightingale’:—</p> - -<p class="fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 8em;">‘when sick for home</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2.75em;">She stood in tears amid the alien corn.’</span><br> -</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</span></p> - -<p>That image of the faithful daughter of Moab -has given me a new and lasting charm in -corn-fields.”</p> - -<p>“I wish,” said George, “some great poet -or magician could come and drive a little -poetry, or at least common sense, into the -old fellow yonder looking over his homestead -gate.”</p> - -<p>“Why,” said Letty, “that is that wretched -old miser, Timothy Squance.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, it’s Tim Squance, sure enough,” -said George. “Notice him well, Thorsby.”</p> - -<p>As they drew near, they saw an old man -standing leaning his hands on the gate which -led into his farm-yard. He was in a dingy, -dirty-looking suit of coarse, grey cloth, with -black worsted stockings and strong laced -ankle-boots. He had on an old, slouching, -weather-beaten hat, and looked with a still, -half-imbecile look at the advancing young -equestrians. He made no movement of recognition.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</span></p> - -<p>“Good day, Mr. Squance,” said George -Woodburn; “fine weather for the corn.”</p> - -<p>“Ay, Master George, and for the hay too. -I reckon you’ve gotten yourn in.”</p> - -<p>“We have,” said George, as they continued -to ride on. “But Squance has not -got his in; and won’t for this next ten days, -because he won’t pay for the necessary men. -There are his two great strong sons, and an -old carter working at it, that is all. Look -at his house, his yard, his hedges, his everything. -The thatch on the house is old and -rotten; his yard doors are tumbling down—some -have fairly fallen to pieces, and he -stops the doorway with hurdles. Look at -the dirt in his yard. Look at these hedges -of his, spreading out on all sides, covering -acres of ground. Look at these great bramble-bushes, -and furze-bushes, standing here and -there in his grass lands. And see what -rushes and blue wiry grass are growing all -over his fields of pasture. Not a penny will<span class="pagenum" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</span> -that man pay to stub and drain his fields,—they -are growing wild. He cannot see that -labour well employed is more profitable than -the sparing of it. His sordid, narrow soul -cannot comprehend such an idea. In winter -his farm is drowned and starved with water. -His house is unapproachable for deep mire. -In summer his corn-fields are smothered with -weeds and thistles and couch-grass. He -quotes Sir Roger Rockville in defence of -letting things alone—of bad roads and a -filthy farm-yard. He won’t put his money in -a bank or out at interest lest he should lose -it; and years ago he had his house broken -into by some canal-cutters, and had himself -and his wife tied to the bed-posts whilst they -ransacked the house, but the thieves found -nothing. It is believed that he has buried -a great deal of money on his farm, or in the -copses; and it is doubted whether his two -equally sordid sons even know where it is, or -will ever find it. Avarice has reduced his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</span> -soul to the most wretched condition of -poverty and littleness possible for it to reach -and be a soul at all. He formerly had a -brother still more keenly penurious than -himself. He was so stupid that when any -one in the house—for the brothers lived together—offended -him, he would threaten to -cut his throat and go to America.</p> - -<p>“Oh,” said Thorsby, who could never let -a jest escape him, “no doubt he thought he -had to cross the Red Sea to America.”</p> - -<p>“Those two sons of Squance’s,” continued -George, “never had an atom of education -but what they picked up in winter from -Howell Crusoe; and he said that endeavouring -to teach them was like trying to -fetch water out of an empty well. I once -went to the house about some sheep of his -that had got out of his fields—for the fences -were full of wide gaps—and were in a furzy -hollow, called the Dales, and were sticking -fast by their fleeces to the furze and briars.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</span> -You should have seen the place! There sat -old Squance, just as you now saw him, filthy -in the extreme; his face did not appear to -have had any acquaintance with water for -years; his grizzly beard was coarsely clipped -with scissors, and looked like a rough stubble. -The house was half filled with faggots, and -he sat on a bench on one side with a billhook -cutting them into fire-wood. His wife, -not much cleaner or decenter, was cooking at -the wide black fire-place; and the walls were -all round black with smoke, stained with -grease, and completely covered with smoked -hams and flitches of bacon. The ceiling was -partly occupied with the like, and with -paper bags of seeds, and bunches of herbs, -camomile, horehound, sage, and mint, hanging -from it.”</p> - -<p>“But remember, George,” said Letty, with -much merriment, “remember what a funeral -they made for that silly brother, who used to -talk of going such an odd way to America.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, to be sure,” said George. “The -coffin was put into the great waggon, and the -old man, his wife, and the two sons, sat -round it. They had managed to display -black for mourning, but it is believed to -have been hired at a pawnbroker’s, for it -has never been seen since. The waggon was -drawn by six great farm-horses, with all their -bells on their collars ringing and jingling as -they went.”</p> - -<p>“How <em>can</em> people,” said Letty, wonderingly, -“grow so stupid about their money—what -good is it to them!”</p> - -<p>“None,” said Thorsby, “no more than so -many oyster-shells; but, Miss Letty, it is of -no use your trying to comprehend such -people. Their ideas are as unintelligible to -you as you are to them. If they were allowed -to try a reforming hand on you, they -would sell your laces and your clothes, -put you into linsey-woolsey, and set you to -feed the pigs. Then they would think you<span class="pagenum" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</span> -useful; now they think you, certainly, a very -useless and expensive sort of creature.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! I am glad they have not the opportunity -for such a metamorphosis,” said Letty, -laughing.</p> - -<p>“It is the oddest thing in the world,” -said Thorsby, “is that wonderful fancy for -scraping up money, and denying yourself all -your life-long the commonest necessaries. -There is that old fellow, Woolley, of Derbyshire, -who made the town-hall clock of -Castleborough. That man once tried if he -could not save horse hire by employing a lot -of stockingers to draw his plough, as he held -it, for he had a croft in his own hands; but the -plough stuck fast at once in the earth, and -the old man left it there, exclaiming, ‘How -wonderful is the strength of a hoss!’ This -old fellow is a freeman of Castleborough, and -at the last election, coming to give his vote, -he could not waste his precious time in waiting -in the crowd at the hustings, but crept<span class="pagenum" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</span> -amongst their legs and came up by the table -where the candidate and his friends stood -taking votes. Seeing a very shabby-looking -man thus emerge from amongst their feet, -the candidate said, ‘There, my good fellow, -vote and away,’ putting half-a-crown into his -hand. ‘Stop!’ said the town-clerk, ‘that is -a very rich man!’ But Woolley put the coin -into his pocket, saying, ‘Every little helps!’ -gave his vote, and disappeared.</p> - -<p>“That clock which he made for the town-hall -is a very remarkable one; it goes a year -without winding up. When he put it up, he -ordered that no one should meddle with it -till he came to wind it up, and he took -the key with him. Weeks, months, a year -nearly went over, and the clock continued to -go. At last one day, the very day year, it -struck one short at twelve o’clock, and the -town-clerk sent a man off to fetch Woolley, -lest it should stop altogether. As the messenger -ascended the hill out of the town, he<span class="pagenum" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</span> -met Woolley coming down. Having told -him his errand: ‘Fools!’ said the clock-maker, -‘I told them I should come at the -right time. It will go till one o’clock, and -it yet wants half-an-hour.’ But Woolley,” -continued Thorsby, “was a philosopher to -this Squance, for on being told that his -nephews would spend his money fast enough -when he was gone, he replied, ‘If they have -as much pleasure in spending it as I have -had in getting it, I shall be quite satisfied. -I sha’n’t haunt them.’”</p> - -<p>“Oh! that is a sensible fellow, said Letty.”</p> - -<p>“I am giving you,” said George, “a flying -sketch of our different neighbours in this -direction. See that tall brick house on the -right hand there; with this nicely kept -carriage-drive, and pair of handsome cast-iron -gates and new lodge. That is the farm, -or I should rather say now, residence, of Mr. -Norton. He has a farm hereof his own, of -five hundred acres: and it is called Peafield.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</span> -Norton only lately married a fine lady from -the south somewhere, who has effected all the -changes that one sees here. Till her advent, -there was no lodge, no carriage-road, and no -carriage. Now there is a handsome phaeton -and pair of greys. Norton himself—you -know him, Thorsby—is a tall, solemn-looking -man, who had only the education that Woodburn -could give him; and was brought up as -plodding a farmer as any of them hereabout. -But this marriage has made a great change, if -not in him, at least in all around him. Mrs. -Norton, who writes notes on beautiful tinted -note-paper with the address of Peafield on -the top of each sheet, has had much trouble -to school her husband—now Squire Norton, of -Peafield—into something gentlemanly. He -shoots, and courses, and drives like any -gentleman, and really, when you meet him -in his carriage with Mrs. Norton, you might -suppose him some ‘squire of high degree;’ -but unfortunately, like St. Peter of old, ‘his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</span> -speech bewrayeth him,’ and Mrs. Norton has -continually to check him and say, ‘Oh, my -dear! not so—that is quite rustic—but so -and so.’</p> - -<p>“Tom Boddily, who has both eye and ear -for the ridiculous, tells an anecdote which -excites excessive mirth in the evening circle -of the Grey Goose public-house. One evening, -he says, when he worked there, Norton came -into the yard with a lantern to see the horses -properly suppered and bedded, and went -into the barn to give out the oats for them. -Soon after Tom went into the house, Norton -came out of the parlour and says, ‘Run, Tom, -into the barn; I left the lantern on the -disappointment. Fetch it.’</p> - -<p>“‘The disappointment?’ says Tom, ‘what -might that be?’</p> - -<p>“‘Oh!’ said Norton, turning very red, -‘deuce take all these new-fangled words—I -mean the balk, man, the balk.’</p> - -<p>“Tom comprehended in a moment. Mrs.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</span> -Norton had heard her husband speaking of -being baulked on some occasion, and had -corrected him, wishing him to say disappointed. -Hence his jump to the idea that a -balk or beam was a disappointment in polite -language. ‘Well,’ said Tom, ‘was it that he -thought of the lantern, for he found the candle -burnt down to the socket, the hot tallow and -great pieces of red-hot snuff falling through a -burnt hole in the lantern on the straw beneath, -and in a little time the whole building would -have been in a flame.’ Tom, however, was -as unlucky as he had been with his captain. -Norton thought he was too wide awake to -the ridiculous in his schooling by his learned -lady, and he has never employed him since.”</p> - -<p>“But it is time to turn homewards,” said -George, as they were merrily laughing over -the late education of Squire Norton, of Peafield. -“Ah! but here is another original.”</p> - -<p>“Good-day to you, Mr. Woodburn,” said a -jolly, rosy farmer, with a broad, merry, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</span> -humorous smile on his face, as he stood -setting wide his field-gate for a loaded hay-waggon -to come out. After a few good-humoured -words with Farmer Thatcher—as -they rode on, George said,—“Now there is -a man who is a man in his place, and who -does not want to be out of it. He is a -genuine through and through farmer, and -nothing more nor less. Honest, and genial -as the day is long; he loves a joke as he -loves his pot of beer and his harvest dish of -broad beans and fat bacon; but his jokes -are never at the expense of a neighbour, but -rather of himself. He says, when he wants -warm weather, he puts his flannel-waistcoat -on, and then, he says, it is sure to come to -try to plague him: and he goes out without -an umbrella when he wants rain, and it is -sure to come and try to gi’ him the rheumatiz. -He won’t have a blanket taken off -his bed in spring, because, he says, it will -immediately turn cold, and he should spoil all<span class="pagenum" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</span> -the crops in the country. These are his jokes, -for things really seem to happen to us thus -oddly; but the country fellows here believe -him in earnest, and say he certainly is the -weather-wisest man hereabout and far away.”</p> - -<p>With such light-hearted discourse the three -found themselves back at Woodburn Grange -for dinner, which was set out, as usual in the -warm weather, in the house-place. All feelings -of sadness or foreboding had vanished. -Letty was as beaming and blithe as usual, and -Harry Thorsby was overflowing with fun. As -Betty Trapps waited at table, Thorsby could -not refrain from trying a fresh word or two -with her.</p> - -<p>“Why, Betty,” he said, “you did not wait -to hear what a good end your friend Mrs. -Ayre made. I assure you it was very -edifying.”</p> - -<p>Betty said she did not wish to hear Mr. -Thorsby jest on sacred subjects.</p> - -<p>“I wish now,” said Thorsby, “I was half<span class="pagenum" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</span> -as learned as you, Betty, in the Bible. Come -now, tell me this: What was the reason that -Jacob on his death-bed, said ‘Bless the lads,’ -but said nothing about the lasses?”</p> - -<p>Betty was doggedly silent.</p> - -<p>“Do you give it up, Betty?” asked -Thorsby; “do you give it up?” Betty still -maintained a disdainful silence, wiping a -plate very briskly with a napkin, and handing -it to one of the company.</p> - -<p>“It was, then,” said Thorsby, “because -Jacob left the lads to bless the lasses.”</p> - -<p>Jacob’s logic tickled Letty wonderfully—she -laughed aloud, and the graver Ann smiled -demurely, and the rest looked much amused.</p> - -<p>“I thought it was some graceless ribaldry,” -said Betty then, scornfully. “Eh! -what a death-bed there’ll be somewhere, one -day! I wouldn’t be there for all the cotton -in Castleborough, for all the wealth in Lunnon, -for all the fish in the Trent.” And with -that, taking up the tray, Betty disappeared,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</span> -and left them to their dessert, no doubt with -much aggravated ideas of Thorsby’s death-bed, -which was sure of coming some day. -That was her comfort in all Thorsby’s scorns -and jibes, as she called them, though she -would not have liked to confess it to herself. -On the contrary, she often made the pious -ejaculation—“God give him grace to see his -awful state. It makes one’s flesh creep to -think of it. That young man goes on tempting -Providence as if there was not a sky -above him, and a listening ear in it, that -hears and listens on as if nothing had happened, -and yet there is another dot gone -down in the great Book of Account. God -help him; I am glad he is neither kin nor -follower of mine.”</p> - -<p>This she said to Ann Woodburn, who, in -the course of the afternoon, told her she -thought her quite rude to Mr. Thorsby, who -was very lively, but really meant no harm.</p> - -<p>“No,” said Betty, “he may mean no harm,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</span> -and yet there may be harm. There are -clouds as often hang o’er heads as never see -’em. I’m jealous, Miss, I am, and awfully -when I see such a squitter-witted thing as -that—a will-o’-the-wisp, as can only lead -into a bog, hanging about that precious Miss -Letty.”</p> - -<p>“Miss Letty!” said Ann, looking -offended.</p> - -<p>“Ah! Miss Letty; an angel, too good for -any such scapegrace as hasn’t sown even his -wild oats—only mere skegs, which are but -bastard oats. I’ve eyes, Miss, I have,” said -Betty, “if other folks haven’t, as should have. -He is clever, I grant you, is that young man; -but mark me, Miss Woodburn, he is all -fingers and no wrist. He is all pendulum -and no clock-weights. He doesna want -cleverness, no more nor a monkey, but he -wants sober sense, and grace more nor all. -I’ve heard of his daubing a poor dumb creature’s -face, as if it had fallen, and getting it a<span class="pagenum" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</span> -terrible beating. Ay, and he’d daub an -angel’s face, and ca’ it a devil, if it suited -him. He would black the devil’s boots for -nothing, while poor Christians were walking -barefoot over glass bottles.”</p> - -<p>“Stop, Betty, cease!” said Ann, with -much authority. “Now you are becoming -malicious. I cannot permit you to speak in -such a manner of any friend of our family. -I—and I am sure my parents—expect you to -behave with respect to all who come here -with our approbation. Again I tell you, Mr. -Thorsby means no harm. I wish, indeed, -that both he and you, Betty, were more -guarded in your expressions; but you are -older than he is, Betty, and should set him -an example of forbearance.”</p> - -<p>Betty was silent.</p> - -<p>Betty was not more sharp-sighted than any -member of the Woodburn family. All had -long seen the intense admiration of Henry -Thorsby for Letty, and that Letty was<span class="pagenum" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</span> -growing strongly attached to him. But no -one, except Betty, augured anything but the -greatest satisfaction in the alliance. No -direct overtures had yet been made by Mr. -Thorsby; but his devotion to her was obvious -in all his actions, and in his constant -rides to Woodburn Grange, rather than to -his former favourite places of resort. Though -his gaiety, and freedom of speech, and fondness -for a little satirical mirth, at the expense -of her beloved Methodists, offended Betty -Trapps and others of her society, his moral -character was without a blemish: and his -social position and wealth, as shown by the -extent of his business, were all that could be -desired.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_IX">CHAPTER IX.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE FRIENDS’ PARTY.</p> - - -<p>A few days after came an invitation to -Woodburn Grange, from Mrs. Heritage, to a -party at Fair Manor. It was a thing that -created no little consternation.</p> - -<p>“Oh!” said Letty, “I cannot really go! -I dare not go for the world! To think only -of another such a sermon! It would kill -me.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Ann, anxiously, “you, at all -events, cannot go, dearest Letty; and I don’t -feel to like it by any means myself. What -are we to do? what shall we say? And how -very odd—the Heritages don’t profess to give -parties; they keep an open house, as it were. -It is very strange—what can it mean?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</span></p> - -<p>“It means,” said Mr. Woodburn, “I dare -say, that Mrs. Heritage feels that she left a -gloomy impression the other day behind her, -and she is desirous of effacing it by a pleasant -party at Fair Manor.”</p> - -<p>“A pleasant party at Fair Manor! Oh, -dear father, how <em>can</em> a Quaker party be a -pleasant party?” exclaimed Letty, walking -quickly about the room. And then, laughing -in her usual gaiety, “Only to imagine a party -of Friends, who neither sing, nor dance, nor -play any music, nor any game but fox-and-goose, -or drafts or dominoes, and who make -such frightful addresses—being a <em>pleasant</em> -party! Why, to them a letter from a distance, -or a very dull poem indeed, is an excitement. -Think of David and Dorothy Qualm, -helping to make up a pleasant party! But, -really, it is a dilemma! What is to be -done?”</p> - -<p>“I am sure I don’t know,” said Mrs. -Woodburn. “I would not for the world<span class="pagenum" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</span> -offend dear Mrs. Heritage, nor dear Miss -Heritage, they are so good, and, spite of that -unlucky sermon, Mrs. Heritage is so wise and -remarkable a woman. I think, my dear, you -and I and George may go, and let Ann and -Letty be gone out. They can go somewhere -for a few days.”</p> - -<p>“No, no,” said Mr. Woodburn, “I don’t -like that sort of women’s subterfuges, to get -out of a disagreeable invitation—they are -little better than falsehoods. I will tell you -now how it will be. It will be a very pleasant -and unique affair out in the grounds—they -are very pleasant grounds—and you -will see, Mrs. Heritage won’t preach a single -word. She means to do the kind and restoring -thing. We will all go, and be -jolly.”</p> - -<p>“Jolly!” “Oh, dear father!” “Oh, dear -husband!” resounded all round Mr. Woodburn -from the ladies. “What an idea! -Jolly at a Friends’ tea-drinking!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</span></p> - -<p>Even sobersided Ann, as her father -called her, was excessively merry at her -father’s notion of a pleasant party.</p> - -<p>“Why, dear father,” said Ann, “though I -admit that the Friends are very estimable -people, one cannot call them entertaining. -I think they are the dullest of people.”</p> - -<p>“By no means,” said Mr. Woodburn; -“not half so dull as your genuine aristocracy. -Now, in my younger days, I spent a -good deal of time in London. I had introductions -to much high aristocratic society, -through my neighbour, Lord Manvers, and -I must say that duller society I never -was in.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, no! that is impossible,” said Letty, -all wonder. “Why, the aristocracy have all -sorts of amusements. In the country, hunting -and racing. In town, theatres, operas, -concerts; music and dancing, and the finest -singing, at their own parties. Their London -season is a perfect round and whirl of pleasures,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</span> -according to all that I ever heard or -read.”</p> - -<p>“But I am not talking,” said Mr. Woodburn, -“of their pleasures and amusements; I -am talking of their society. They give you -good dinners and good wine, I grant you, -and you have all that you say—music, and -dancing, and fine singing. You have great -crowds of fine and titled people of whom you -learn to know nothing but their fine clothes, -and fine jewels, and fine outsides. At their -more select and domestic parties—dinner-parties, -say—all is very outwardly agreeable, -polite, and even, to a casual eye, unassuming, -for such great people; but, my dear girls, I -tell you that, notwithstanding, aristocratic -society is the dullest of all society. Spite of -that seeming ease and non-pretence, there is -a world of real resting upon their own self-consequence -and greatness of station. Try -to break a little through that soft and shining -surface by a little of that familiarity which is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</span> -quite allowable in the middle ranks of life, -and you will soon feel that there is an invisible -but not impalpable division betwixt -you and them. It is what a clear glass -window must be to a bird that flies against -it, thinking it air. You cannot get beyond a -specious, arm’s-length acquaintance with these -apparently so modest and pleasant people.</p> - -<p>“A country yeoman may say of the aristocracy, -as Northcote the painter says, as -regards his profession: ‘An artist may -honour them as patrons; but to imagine that -he can hold communion with them, on a -footing of friendship, is a moral misdemeanour, -for which he ought to be soundly -whipped.’</p> - -<p>“Try to introduce a topic of more than -lightest and most gossipping interest, and see -the effect. Instead of the warm kindling up -of a truly interesting and ennobling conversation, -you produce a deep silence. So many -are the topics in those ranks, which, from political<span class="pagenum" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</span> -and other causes, would be offensive to -some one or other, that all really important -topics are tabooed. These gay and speciously -pleasant people dare not speak their own -minds in society. There may be peculiar -and close little cliques in which they do; but -in my time it was well known that there -were not above three or four aristocratic -houses in London in which there was any -real freedom of discussion. You met at -many of them men of science, men high in -the Church and theology, men and women -famous in letters, but they were as dull there -as the rest. They smiled, and talked of the -weather, or of the play, but their deeper -thoughts were carefully locked in their souls. -No, I say it—that any one who long frequents -aristocratic circles, comes to feel a -heavy, dull atmosphere there, and is glad to -get into the middle regions to breathe life -and intellectual thought once more. There -is a science of dining-out discourse—the art<span class="pagenum" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</span> -of talking without saying anything—and -those who are adroit at billiards may get well -through the long after-dinner hours. I have -been at many out-of-door fêtes. It was the -same. You had coveys of gay people—great -lords, bishops, princes even, great lawyers, -and great soldiers, and their ladies. Much -beauty, much collecting of gay equipages at -the gates, and splendid military bands of -music—but that was all. It is true what -Lord Byron says—</p> - -<p class="fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: 1.5em;">‘He who ascends to mountain-tops, shall find</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 2.75em;">The loftiest peaks most wrapped in clouds and snow.’</span><br> -</p> - -<p>“I don’t mean to say that the aristocracy, -in their families, and the familiar -circles of their kith and kin, are not as agreeable -and as full of heart and pleasantness as -other people. I am now only speaking of -them in their general society, as you were -speaking of the general society of the Friends; -and, in fact, it may seem a strange fancy to -you, but I have always seen a great similarity<span class="pagenum" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</span> -in the manners of the aristocracy and those -of Friends. There is the same quiet, unexcited -manner—a repose that expresses no -surprise at anything. The women of the -Society, in particular, are vastly, in their -manners and deportment, like ladies of rank, -though so different in costume. Both one -and the other class can live in society on the -smallest possible quantum of ideas imaginable. -Look at the fair, smooth, unimpassioned faces -of the Quaker ladies! On those placid countenances -you trace no vestiges of the storms -of passion or the cravings of ambition. Perhaps -the Quaker ladies possess that tranquillity -of tone and temper which their aristocratic -sisters wear so admirably. Certainly I know -no class of people who approach so closely to -the aristocratic caste, as the Friends. But, as -to dulness, give me the Quakers rather than -the titled great, for they do indulge in topics -of the highest importance. On the means of -putting down war, slavery, priestcraft, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</span> -political injustice; and on the means of promoting -freedom of conscience and thought, -peace, and knowledge, they will at any time -grow eloquent.”</p> - -<p>“Upon my word, dear father,” said Letty, -“I never knew you were so much of a Quaker -before!”</p> - -<p>“I am no Quaker, little quiz,” said Leonard -Woodburn, “but I like them as honest and -practical people. Do you know that William -Fairfax, of whom I was speaking a little -while ago, saved me seventy pounds lately? -I was passing along the street in which his -shop is, when out he came, bare-headed. -‘Leonard Woodburn,’ he said, ‘hast thou any -of Dakeyne’s notes?’ I replied, that it was -very probable, as I had lately received a -large payment for corn from Derbyshire. -This Dakeyne was a flax-spinner, of Darley -Dale, and on his bank-notes he had an engraving -of a flax-dressing machine, and the -motto, ‘Strike, Dakeyne! the devil is in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</span> -flax.’ ‘I never liked that man,’ said Mr. -Fairfax. ‘If the devil was in his flax, he -was not the man for me. But if thou -hast any of his notes, get rid of them, for -he won’t stand a fortnight. He has many -paper-kites out, and they are beginning to -fall.’</p> - -<p>“On returning home, I looked over my -money, and found seventy of his one-pound -notes. I paid them into Mr. Heritage’s bank, -who immediately, by his agent, paid them in -to Dakeyne, so that we might not be the -means of defrauding any other innocent -person.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! now I see,” said Letty, archly, -“why you praise the Friends so.”</p> - -<p>“Hussy!” said Mr. Woodburn, “that’s -the way you treat your father’s motives, eh!” -And he shook his finger in playful menace -at her.</p> - -<p>At this moment up rode Harry Thorsby, -and soon came rapidly in.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</span></p> - -<p>“Well, you won’t go to this party at Fair -Manor, of course?”</p> - -<p>“We are all going,” said Mr. Woodburn, -with a sort of brusque jollity.</p> - -<p>“You are?” And Thorsby looked silently -from one to another.</p> - -<p>“Not Letty, though?” he added.</p> - -<p>“Yes, Letty and all,” said Mr. Woodburn.</p> - -<p>“Are not you a little cracked?” asked -Thorsby, gravely. “After what passed -lately—why, I can scarcely credit my senses.”</p> - -<p>“It’s all right,” said Mr. Woodburn. “I -will pledge my wisdom that all will be most -innocent, and, I dare say, rather amusing.”</p> - -<p>“<em>Very</em> amusing, I should think,” said -Thorsby, laughing. “Nay, then, if you are -all going, I am going, and I shall try to -make a little fun, if possible; but if I see any -sermon coming, I shall seize on you, Letty, -and run right off with you. But I can’t -imagine, for the life of me, how we are to get -through the evening.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</span></p> - -<p>“Oh, but they can teach you how to save -money,” said Letty, mischievously; “and -what can be pleasanter? That Mr. Fairfax -showed my father how to save seventy pounds -the other day.”</p> - -<p>“That would be charming, indeed!” -said Thorsby. “That settles the whole -question.”</p> - -<p>“We shall see what they will do,” said Mr. -Woodburn. So it was concluded to accept -the invitation; and Harry Thorsby was entrusted -with the note to that effect to leave -at the lodge in passing.</p> - -<p>The evening of the appointed day saw the -Woodburns driving up towards Fair Manor. -Other carriages were seen approaching from -Castleborough, indicating that it was to be -a considerable gathering. It was a lovely -evening. The day had been cloudless and -hot; the earth was dry and glowing, for -there had been no rain for many weeks. -The air, as five o’clock approached (the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</span> -early country hour fixed for tea), was still -warm and genial. “The weather is really -made for these good people,” said Mr. Woodburn; -“we have not the proverbial rains -and chills of pic-nics and <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">fêtes champêtres</i>.”</p> - -<p>“And I think it’s made for us, too,” said -Letty, gaily. “I don’t think Providence is -partial, dear father.”</p> - -<p>“Just so,” said Mr. Woodburn; “for as -you are inclined to be a little wicked, you -moralising chit, it fulfils the proof that God -makes his sun to shine on the just and the -unjust.”</p> - -<p>“Oh! do you number me with the unjust?”</p> - -<p>“Now and then I do, Letty; but, taking -you altogether, you are pretty well, I think.”</p> - -<p>They were now entering the great lodge-gates, -which were thrown wide; and the -marks of a considerable number of wheels -showed that, early as they seemed, they were -far from the earliest. A sober-suited man,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</span> -like one of the villagers, stood guard to keep -the little curious village children outside the -grounds, and out of the way of the carriages. -A little on, and you saw that it was a gala -day at Fair Manor, for the fountain in the -middle of the front lawn was playing splendidly. -The rich fragrance of the orange-flowers, -from the large row of trees along the -house-front, floated deliciously through the -still, warm atmosphere.</p> - -<p>As they descended from the carriage at -the broad steps of the front door, what was -their surprise to see, standing to receive -them, Tom Boddily, arrayed in a plain, dark, -out-of-livery suit, who bowed with a quiet, -arch smile, but with a <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">savoir faire</i>, which -showed that he was at home in such an office. -Tom informed them that the company were -all in the garden, where the tea would be -served, and said the ladies were recommended -not to take off their bonnets. He led the way -through the fine wide and lofty hall running<span class="pagenum" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</span> -through the house, and to the foot of the steps -at the other door, where, with another very -<i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">au fait</i> bow, he pointed to a large canopy on -poles, on the lawn, where a considerable company -of guests were standing about.</p> - -<p>“Now, there’s an instance of the quick eye -for business which even the lady Quakers -have,” said Mr. Woodburn, as he led on his -comely wife. “Mrs. Heritage saw in a -moment, at our haymaking, the jewel of a -serving-man in Tom Boddily.”</p> - -<p>The next moment Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn, -and the young ladies, were received -with the warmest welcome by Mr. and Mrs. -Heritage, and Miss Heritage, the latter of -whom kissed Letty and Ann affectionately. -They saw George already there, and Thorsby, -looking all radiance with good spirits. -They were introduced to the different persons -unknown to them, consisting of a “mixed -medley,” as some people are fond of calling -it, of the Quaker world and the outer world.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</span> -Amid the ordinary attire of those, in Friends’ -phrase, “not in the Society,” gleamed the -subdued hues, French grey and dove-colour, -the dresses of a number of young Quaker -girls, in their neat little transparent and delicately-drawn -book-muslin caps. More matronly -lady Friends showed their dark-brown -or russet colour gowns, white muslin handkerchiefs -over their shoulders, and caps of -thicker fabric and plainer style.</p> - -<p>Thorsby, who had already found himself at -Letty’s side, whispered to her, “Deuced pretty -are not some of these young Quakeresses? -What health, what innocence in their looks—and -yet, I can detect a certain arch wide-awakeness -under all their apparent simplicity. -And what an air some of them have, even in -that quaint dress—why, I can see that in -that gay unworldly costume, they cultivate—Fashion! -Upon my word! yes, it is a fact. -See the difference betwixt the dress of the -elder ladies and theirs! As for Miss Heritage,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</span> -she is really bewitching. Why, in her -simple dark dress and little jaunty cap there -is an indescribable elegance. Look at those -clear, sunny, azure eyes, under those dark -eye-lashes, and amid that raven hair. I -don’t wonder that King George, in his -younger days, ran away with a young -Quakeress.”</p> - -<p>“Don’t you think,” said Letty, looking at -him with a funny smile, “that you will be -running off with one some day?”</p> - -<p>“Never!” said Thorsby, looking earnestly -into Letty’s eyes.</p> - -<p>But there is a call to tea, and the company -are taking their places, and we don’t yet -know who there are. I see, however, Sir -Emanuel Clavering, Mr. Thomas Clavering, -the rector of Cotmanhaye, and Mrs. Clavering; -Dr. Frank Leroy; a number of ladies -and gentlemen from Castleborough, whom -my readers would not know if I formally -introduced them. There was that William<span class="pagenum" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</span> -Fairfax, the eminent grocer, by whom Mr. -Woodburn seated himself. There was a tall, -large, humorous-looking individual, a Mr. -George Barthe, a Friend and dentist, celebrated -throughout the neighbouring counties -amongst the aristocracy for his skill and his -droll sayings, Quaker as he was. Not far off -sat a middle-sized, thin, elderly man, of a -venerable but peculiar look, a Friend, named -Mr. Ephraim Wire, reckoned a very great eccentric. -Mr. Heritage, a tall, handsome man, -very gentlemanly in his manners, and with a -dark-brown suit of strictly Friends’ clothes, -yet somehow very little differing from those -of other gentlemen, was making himself -agreeable to all present. Mrs. Heritage -looked at once Quakerly and queenly, and -was as cordially kindly smiling, and courteously -hospitable, as if she never had -breathed a word of omen in any sermon, or -in any other way. She knew how to distribute -her attentions to every one, and to<span class="pagenum" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</span> -make every one feel at ease and happy. She -saw all seated under that ample canvas -canopy, at that ample and luxuriously-spread -tea-table, where a number of urns, at equal -distances, were made the centres of attraction, -by being officiated at by very sweet young -girls in Friend-costume. Tom Boddily was -actively waiting, and conveying cups of -odorous tea or coffee with a dexterous celerity -which showed old practice. With him were -Sylvanus Crook, in his Quaker drab, and -another Quaker serving-man, the very counterpart -of Sylvanus, only nearly twice his -height and size. He wore a drab suit of the -very same cut as Sylvanus’s, grey stockings, -and shoes with large square buckles. His -hat was three-cocked, and the broad brim suspended -by silk-cords, exactly as Sylvanus’s -hat. He had a thin, somewhat meagre, but -knowing-looking countenance, and greyish -hair. His hat now was laid aside.</p> - -<p>“Look at that Bunyan’s Christian sort of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</span> -man waiting so solemnly,” said some one to -his neighbour. “That is the coachman of -George Barthe, yonder, the dentist; odd -master, odd man.”</p> - -<p>Sir Emanuel Clavering and Mr. Heritage -seemed to be spreading a great deal of life -and interest around them by the conversation -they were carrying on. Mrs. Heritage, Mrs. -Woodburn, and Mr. and Mrs. Thomas Clavering -appeared equally at home in some pleasant -conversation. Dr. Leroy had again -contrived to be seated betwixt Miss Millicent -Heritage and a young lady—ay, who is she? -Thorsby, betwixt Letty and a gentleman unknown -to me, but opposite to Ann Woodburn -and this young lady, was just asking the -same question. Well, she is not a Friend; -and she is a stranger; and a very interesting -one. She is tall, handsome both in figure -and face. Appears five-and-twenty, and has -an expression, so clear, clever, well-bred, and -yet with a sentiment in her eyes, both of<span class="pagenum" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</span> -love, of mirth, and of something deeper, -that is very fascinating. It appears so to -George Woodburn, who sits also not far from -opposite to her, and has scarcely taken his -eyes off her since he first caught sight -of her.</p> - -<p>Well, this fair stranger is Miss Elizabeth -Drury. You would like to know more? Then, -I can tell you—that the Heritages lately met -with her at Scarborough—where, by-the-bye, -the Degges are yet—that is the reason -you don’t see them here. Miss Elizabeth -Drury is of Yorkshire. Her father is as -eminent an agriculturist as Mr. William Fairfax -is a grocer. Mr. Trant Drury is a great -authority in all agricultural matters, an advanced -man in Georgic science, in knowledge -of stock, implements, and manures. He is a -gentleman by education and capital, but not by -land: and Miss Drury is his only child. I say, -and I am sure George Woodburn thinks her, -a very interesting person. He is delighted<span class="pagenum" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</span> -to see how, after a few desultory and fragmentary -interchanges of speech with longish -pauses between them, his sister Ann and she -warm-up and “cotton” to each other. What? -Yes; they are got upon love of the country, -and of the—Church. Oh, that is enough—the -Church and the country, and George -Herbert’s poetry, and Jeremy Taylor—an odd -mixture, but very taking to both Ann Woodburn -and Elizabeth Drury. There is a great -league struck up at once—a friendship for -life. Ann Woodburn does not perceive that -Dr. Leroy, at her right hand, is spending all -his conversation on Millicent Heritage; and -Miss Drury, though her eyes do wander a -little over the strange company, is deeply -interested in Ann.</p> - -<p>“But pray,” she asks of Ann, “who is that -very agreeable young man to the left across -the table, who seems to look one through and -through.”</p> - -<p>“Ah! that is my dear brother George!”<span class="pagenum" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</span> -says Ann. “You will like him so when you -know him.”</p> - -<p>Miss Drury blushed. Why should she? -It must have been because she saw that -George Woodburn had noticed the looks of -herself and sister Ann directed towards him.</p> - -<p>Down the table that amiable-looking -Ephraim Wire is deeply indoctrinating a -listening number with Phonetics, Vegetarianism, -and the true source of health—all -topics totally unknown then except to himself. -Further down we hear the voice of -William Fairfax, grown earnest and rather -loud. He is evidently commenting on the -burdens of the poor, and the diseases of the -body politic: and is uttering his favourite -declaration:</p> - -<p>“We have three standing armies.”</p> - -<p>“Three!” says some one.</p> - -<p>“We maintain three standing armies,” he -continues. “We have a standing army of -soldiers to fight the French; and another<span class="pagenum" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</span> -standing army of doctors to fight Death; -and another standing army of parsons to -fight the Devil, of whom he standeth not -in awe!”</p> - -<p>“Hear! hear!” Much laughter resounded -from that quarter.</p> - -<p>“I hear our friend Fairfax,” said Mr. -Thomas Clavering, “on his favourite topic. -He is brushing our cloth for us; but the -good, dear old reviler, he would give us a -whole wardrobe if we wanted one. For -my part, I like to hear his good-humoured -diatribes, and often look in on him, and am -sure to find some of the classes he denounces, -bankers, officers, doctors, or clergymen there. -There is more originality in that man’s mode -of viewing things than in all the minds in the -county. But mark me, I will take my revenge -on him before he goes.”</p> - -<p>With this the guests rose. The tea-table, -at all events, had been a decided -success. The groups who had engaged in<span class="pagenum" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</span> -conversation at table, many of them, continued -to walk and talk together with much -enthusiasm. Mr. Heritage told the company -that he hoped they would contrive to amuse -one another. They would find in different -parts of the grounds, bowls, a target, and -means of archery for those who liked such -exercises, and, he hoped, materials for ample -pleasure in one another. The company -spread, grouped, wandered by degrees in full -talk, and disappeared amongst the winding -walks. The grounds were extensive, delightfully -varied with shrubbery, clumps of -noble trees, lawns opening, here and there, -amongst them, flower-beds; and in one place a -considerable expanse of water, on which were -swans and different kinds of wild ducks; and -seats were placed around for leisurely viewing -them.</p> - -<p>Parties of the young men were soon -found, engaged with bows and arrows; -others having a game of bowls; and others,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</span> -and amongst them Thorsby and Dr. Leroy, -trying their skill in jumping. Tom Boddily -had pointed out a soft piece of ground where -they could jump distances without hurting -their legs and feet.</p> - -<p>“Now,” said Thorsby, “I hear that you, -Boddily, are a first-rate jumper; let us see -what you can do.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Tom, “it does not become me -to jump with you, gentlemen. I can, it is -true, cut out most of the young villagers at -leaping; but it would be presuming to enter -into your sports, gentlemen.”</p> - -<p>“Nonsense,” said Thorsby, “I want to see -what you can do. I don’t want to show my -leaping, and have you laughing in your sleeve -at my inferiority.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Tom, “if master sees us, you -will make my excuses.”</p> - -<p>“Of course,” said both Thorsby and Dr. -Leroy.</p> - -<p>Tom having stripped off his coat, led the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</span> -way. The young men were amazed at the -manner in which he seemed to throw himself -through the air, as if he had been an -elastic ball.</p> - -<p>“We shall never do that,” said Thorsby, -taking a determined run, and turning very -red in the face, but falling a few inches short -of Tom’s mark. Dr. Leroy, very quietly, and -without much apparent exertion, outwent -Tom considerably; but the next time Tom -flew a foot beyond this. Thorsby put forth all -his strength, but only to find that both he and -Dr. Leroy were hopelessly distanced by this -wiry little fellow. They next tried the cat-gallows, -or high leaping. The result was the -same. “There is no chance with you, Tom,” -said Thorsby; “you must have kangaroo-leather -shoes on.”</p> - -<p>“No,” said Tom; “I’ll jump in my bare -feet if you like.”</p> - -<p>“No, thank you, Tom,” added Thorsby -and Dr. Leroy together. “And hark! what’s<span class="pagenum" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</span> -that? Why, the girls are singing! Singing, -I declare,” said Thorsby, “in the very heart -of Quakerdom.”</p> - -<p>They hurried off in the direction of the -sound, and came to where the large handsome -summer-house stood overlooking the -garden-wall. Around it was gathered the -greater part of the company, and a chorus of -voices swelled up from the summer-house, -singing most deliciously, Moore’s “Harp of -Tara.”</p> - -<p>“Aha! how’s this?” said Thorsby to -George Woodburn.</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is a conspiracy of the girls. I -believe that Yorkshire young lady put them -up to it. She, my sisters, and Miss Heritage, -have got possession of the summer-house and -locked themselves in, and are enjoying the -lark amazingly. And don’t they sing charmingly.”</p> - -<p>“It’s grand fun,” said Thorsby; “look, -even the old Friends, who say they don’t like<span class="pagenum" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</span> -music, how they are listening. Look even -at that old Silenus, David Qualm, how he is -drinking it in as he sits under the tree there. -And Mrs. Heritage,—oh, she is smiling quite -forgetfully at this carnal outburst.”</p> - -<p>“Whist! whist!” said Mr. Heritage, -equally forgetting his professed aversion to -music.</p> - -<p>Thorsby jogged Dr. Leroy’s arm, and -whispered, “Hear that now!—is not that -rich?”</p> - -<p>The happy holders of the house sang on—a -number of Moore’s Melodies and Burns’s -Songs, even “Scots wha hae wi’ Wallace bled,” -which was then very popular, and received -loud encores and bravos from the company -below, especially from the Claverings and the -guests “not in the Society” from Castleborough. -Thorsby and Dr. Leroy were as -energetically applausive as the rest of them: -and when Miss Drury put her handsome, -laughing face out of one of the windows, and<span class="pagenum" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</span> -said, “May we capitulate honourably?—that -is, to march out with all our arms”—here -the other fair culprits showed a number of -very persuasive arms through the other -windows—“with all our arms,” continued -Miss Drury, “and with colours flying?” -the applause was uproarious; the merry -girls descended in high glee from their -orchestra, and were received with enthusiastic -clappings of hands, and much congratulatory -greeting from all assembled, which -was every soul on the premises.</p> - -<p>Scarcely had this lively clatter of tongues -subsided, when another surprise seized on -the guests. From out a walk issuing from -amongst the trees, appeared Mr. Barthe, the -eccentric dentist,—but oh, what a nose! The -young ladies fairly shrieked with affright; -the gentlemen stood for a moment dumbfounded; -on came Mr. Barthe with a nose of -huge size, and with a termination like a -knob of oak. With a most grave and polite<span class="pagenum" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</span> -manner, the Friend bowed right and left -with a grace befitting a courtier, and with -hat in hand, and then passed round behind -the trees. The next moment a loud and -general laugh broke from the gentlemen, and -was joined in by the ladies; but before it -was well over, again Mr. Barthe appeared -whence he had first issued, with another nose -still more astounding. This time it was a -huge very green frog; and with the same -pantomime he passed along and away round -the trees. The wonder and merriment were -in full play, when a third time Mr. Barthe -appeared, now with a yellow-red flaming -beard and head of hair, and a nose—oh! -Bardolph’s was nothing to it for fire and -carbuncle. This time, the surprise having -exhausted itself, the applause was loud and -unrestrained, and the next moment the -Quaker humourist again appearing in his -proper aspect, and with the fiery beard and -scalp and the three noses dangling by strings<span class="pagenum" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</span> -in his hand, was received with great gaiety -by his wondering friends.</p> - -<p>“My dear friends,” he said, “don’t imagine -that these are disguises that I amuse myself -with, or of my own invention. They were -the odd fancy of an uncle of mine, a great -woolstapler, well known to many here. As -he rode far and wide through the country, -buying up wool from the farmers in summer, -he used to put on one of these noses, or this -blazing beard and hair, as he approached -some village; the wonder and even terror -that he excited were very amusing to him. -Boys ran crying—‘Oh, look at that man’s -nose! What a nose!’ People looked in -astonishment; but greater was their astonishment -when on returning through the same -village soon after, the boys, seeing him at a -distance, would cry out—‘The man with the -nose!’ and, behold, on his coming up his -nose was just like any other person’s. I am -afraid sometimes he must have occasioned<span class="pagenum" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</span> -some boys a beating, or at least a good -snubbing, when they cried—‘Here comes the -man with the nose!’ and the lookers out -saw only a very shapely and befitting nose. -Sometimes the women said—‘Poor gentleman, -what a misfortune! Hush, children, -you may be struck with such a nose if you -mock!’ One woman greatly amused him: -her little daughter was dancing in delight at -the approach of the man with the nose, on -the ash-heap by the door, but the poor -woman seeing only a very respectable gentleman, -with no nasal enormity whatever, gave -the girl a slap, saying—‘Come in, little -minx, I’ll teach thee to be making thy i—o—oms -there on the ash-midden. I’ll give -thee a lection!’”</p> - -<p>Such was the story of this strange man, -who in truth very much resembled the portraits -of sentimental and unsentimental Laurence -Sterne; but William Fairfax said -aloud,—“George, thou talks of thy uncle, but<span class="pagenum" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</span> -wilt thou take thy affirmation that thou dost -not amuse thyself in thy journeys through -the country with these phantasmagoria? -What says thy man, William Theobald?”</p> - -<p>“Ask master himself,” said William; “he -is of age.”</p> - -<p>“Well then, George Barthe—what say’st -thou?”</p> - -<p>“I say nothing,” replied Barthe, amid a -general laughter.</p> - -<p>Thorsby was delighted with the fiery hair -and beard, and would put them on, to the -great sport of the young people. And then -he would insist on some of the young ladies -either putting them on, or trying one of the -noses. At this instant, however, a singular -note, high in a thickly-ivied tree just behind, -caught their ears.</p> - -<p>“What is that?” asked a dozen voices.</p> - -<p>“It is a note of a nightingale,” said some -one.</p> - -<p>“No, that cannot be,” said Mr. Thomas<span class="pagenum" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</span> -Clavering, “the nightingales have long ceased -for this year.”</p> - -<p>The sound recommenced and went on. “It -is a thrush,” said Mr. Clavering. “No,—what -is it? It is a thrush, and it is not.”</p> - -<p>A loud, clear, warbling again issued from -the ivy aloft in the tree. It was to ordinary -ears a thrush, and a very fine one. But Mr. -Clavering, most intimate with English birds’ -notes, said,—“No, it was no thrush; he -believed it to be a man, but an extraordinarily -clever one, and where was he?”</p> - -<p>All eyes were strained upwards towards -the part of the tree where its great branches -diverged, and whence the warbling came. -Nothing could be discerned. Suddenly the -air changed. It was a blackbird, with its -fine flowing notes. Again, and it was a -nightingale.</p> - -<p>“Ah! that is the nightingale,” said George -Woodburn.</p> - -<p>“No,” insisted Mr. Clavering, “but it is<span class="pagenum" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</span> -an amazing imitation. Every note correct. -Hark to that—‘jug, jug, jug, more sweet -than all;’ which the printer of Coleridge’s -Poems so provokingly printed ‘more sweet -than ale.’ It is most wonderful!”</p> - -<p>But the wonder did not cease, but increased. -From the nightingale’s most impassioned -song, the music, or whistling, -advanced into notes, strange, weird, unearthly, -into a very triumph and intoxication -of wondrous sounds.</p> - -<p>“That is surely like the music of birds in -heaven!” exclaimed Miss Heritage.</p> - -<p>“What can it be?” continued Mr. Clavering, -going round the tree, and peering up on -all sides. “If I were a lad again, I would be -up in a twink, and find it out.”</p> - -<p>One or two youths were throwing off their -coats, to mount the tree, when the droll face -of Tom Boddily peeped out from among the -ivy, between the great diverging arms of -the tree, and said,—“You need not climb,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</span> -gentlemen, it is only me, Tom Boddily!” In -another moment he was seen descending -with the agility of a monkey amongst the ivy, -and down he dropped lightly in the midst -of the company. All crowded eagerly round -him, to learn by what means he made such -sounds. Tom pulled out a simple lark-whistle, -such as village boys use or used, but -without any such magical power. Besides -this little tin box, perforated with a single -hole, he produced also a small tin pipe, not -more than four inches long, and by the aid -of these, he showed them how he executed -such artistic music.</p> - -<p>“How in the world did you learn that, -Tom?” asked Mr. Clavering.</p> - -<p>“I learnt it when I was sogering, sir.”</p> - -<p>“You must have found a very extraordinary -master,” said Sir Emanuel.</p> - -<p>“I did, Sir Emanuel; and yet he was but -a poor boy.”</p> - -<p>“A poor boy!”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</span></p> - -<p>“Yes, only a poor boy, God bless him,” -said Tom, and the tears stood in his eyes. -“I was acquainted with one of our corporals, -and often used to go to his lodgings—there -was no barracks then—at Ipswich. I often -saw a poor, very pale, but pretty lad sitting -in the court-yard in a light hand-carriage. -He sat there because his mother was a -laundry woman, and could only take him out -when she went with light lots of clean linen -to different houses. To amuse himself he -used to play on a lark-whistle and a little -tin pipe. They were these very ones,” said -Tom, and wiped his sleeve across his eyes. -“I was quite astonished at the music he -could draw out of such simple things, and -delighted to listen to him, and he was delighted -to have me to listen. Poor Freddy! -if he had had his health, he would have -been a great musician. Oh! he had such an -ear! nothing caught it, but he could imitate -it. He picked up tunes, as chickens pick up<span class="pagenum" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</span> -barley-corns, without thinking. And then he -was so fond of reading. He had always some -books lying by him in his waggon—and he -took such a longing, oh! such a longing, to be -out in the fields, to feel the fresh wind on his -poor thin cheek, and to see the brooks running -in the sunshine amongst the flags and -flowers, and to hear the birds. It made my -heart to ache. I knew he had not long to -live; he was lamed by an accident, and the -hurt had taken bad ways. The doctors said -his days were numbered.</p> - -<p>“What a shame! I thought, that the poor -lad should so long for the fields, and the -winds, and the look of the sky, and the songs -and ways of birds, and had but a little time -to enjoy ’em, and nobody to take him out. -So I determined to take him, and I used to -go and draw him into the meadows, and -through the woods, whenever I could. And -when my captain was away for some months, -I devoted all my time to take poor Freddy<span class="pagenum" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</span> -out. Oh! it would have done you good to -see what a joy it was to him. How he -would lie and listen by the side of a wood, -and then imitate all sorts of birds, and he -would never be satisfied till he had taught -me to do the same. But I was but a poor -scholar. It is since he is gone that the -power has come to me—by thinking of him, -I reckon. I don’t know how else.</p> - -<p>“Poor Freddy! he used sometimes to cut -me to the quick, by taking my hand and -saying, ‘Do you think, Tom, heaven is more -beautiful than this? I don’t think it can. -And do you think we shall feel such cool, -sweet winds, and hear the birds, I wonder?’</p> - -<p>“‘No doubt,’ said I, ‘no doubt; they have -everything better and finer than we have: -but, my dear Fred, you are not gone yet. I -hope we shall have many a pleasant time -together yet.’</p> - -<p>“‘I hope we shall,’ he would say, and then -lie and think, and then perhaps drop asleep:<span class="pagenum" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</span> -and if ever I see an angel, I know it will -look like that child in his sleep. He did not -live out the summer. That’s how I learnt -to play such bird-tunes.” And Tom went -quickly away towards the house. There was -many a fair face wet with tears—and some -manly ones, too.</p> - -<p>“That is an extraordinary fellow,” said -Sir Emanuel. “He is a real genius; and he -has a heart in his bosom, too.”</p> - -<p>There was a call to supper. But why -need we follow into that large and well-lighted -room, where an exquisite repast was -laid out. After that, Sir Emanuel, who had -had a fine telescope erected by his own man -on the lawn, showed the young people some -of the marvels of the heavens; and Mr. -Clavering showed others the equal marvels -revealed by a microscope of great powers; and -Dr. Leroy exhibited, by means of a magic -lantern, views of many celebrated cities and -Alpine scenes, which he had visited in his<span class="pagenum" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</span> -travels. The Quaker party was a decided -success. All appeared charmed with their -entertainment. Even Mr. Clavering had an -opportunity of taking his good-natured revenge -on Mr. William Fairfax, for as he was -making a sort of harangue, resting his hands -on a chair-back, and saying, of some things -and people that he was commenting upon, -“By their fruits shall ye know them,” Mr. -Clavering said quietly—“But if it should be -winter time, and there be neither fruit nor -leaves on the trees, how should we know -them?” Mr. Fairfax suddenly saying, “Farewell!” -turned round and went off, much to -the amusement of a group of young people, -and followed by Mr. Clavering’s pleasant, -good-natured glance of triumph.</p> - -<p>At the early hour of ten o’clock all were -hurrying away from Fair Manor, in the -happiest of moods, and Mrs. Heritage had -not uttered a single syllable of a sermon.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak" id="CHAPTER_X">CHAPTER X.</h2> -</div> - -<p class="center">THE PIC-NIC ON THE ISLAND.</p> - - -<p>The next morning, at breakfast, at Woodburn -Grange, the Friends’ party was the -great topic. All were unanimous in their -expressions of pleasure. “The Heritages,” said -Mr. Woodburn, “seemed to have thought of -everything capable of making the evening -pleasant. And only to think of their bringing -out Sir Emanuel Clavering so!” Tom -Boddily’s music, and his story of the poor -musical child, were commented on with great -enthusiasm.</p> - -<p>“And, my dear Letty,” said Mr. Woodburn, -“the Quakers, without singing, dancing, -or playing music or games, do know how to -make an amusing party.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</span></p> - -<p>“Music and games!” said Letty, “why, -we had both.”</p> - -<p>“Yes, that improvised vocal concert of -yours was a grand <i lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">coup</i>,” said Mr. Woodburn.</p> - -<p>“And the noses!” said Letty. “Who -<em>could</em> have suspected that odd Friend of -being an actor!”</p> - -<p>“And Miss Heritage,” said George, “did -she take part in your singing?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! she denied it,” said Letty. “She -said she only ‘crooned to hersel’’ a little, -as Burns says; but I caught some sweet -tones coming out of that quarter every now -and then. She has a charming voice; <em>that</em> -I discovered; and I believe she knows more -about singing than she wants to be known. -I can tell you one thing—she is a very sweet -poetess. I am promised a delicious little -poem of hers some day, that she repeated -to me. These Quaker girls, do you know, -learn off lots of poetry, and the funniest of all—<em>such</em><span class="pagenum" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</span> -poetry!—Moore’s, and Byron’s, and -Burns’s—of all things. They have a poet at -Birmingham; only think, at Birmingham!”</p> - -<p>“A gunsmith, of course,” said Mr. Woodburn, -satirically, “as they hate war.”</p> - -<p>“No, a banker. What is his name? -Moon—Moon——? something about the -moon.”</p> - -<p>“Obadiah Moonshine, I daresay,” said -George.</p> - -<p>“Now, don’t, George, drive the name out -of my head,” said Letty. “Oh! there it is—Paul -Moon James. Millicent repeated to me -some verses called ‘The Beacon.’ I did not -think them half so good as her own. But -the Friends think much of them.”</p> - -<p>“They are a very extraordinary people,” -said George. “I found those two queer -drab servants, Sylvanus Crook and William -Theobald, exactly alike, only one in little -and the other in large. They were sitting, -and, of all things, discussing Swedenborgianism.<span class="pagenum" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</span> -I learnt that this Theobald, besides -being a Quaker, is a Swedenborgian -preacher, but he takes his Quaker notions -with him into the pulpit. Instead of taking -his text, Thorsby tells us, he says, ‘Here -goes for the starting-place.’</p> - -<p>“There was a young, rather conceited fellow, -not eighteen, I should say, trying to -make a little fun out of this old man.</p> - -<p>“‘Now, William,’ he said, ‘does Swedenborg -tell you what the soul is?’</p> - -<p>“‘Yes,’ said the old man; ‘it is the real -man. This body is but its covering, just as -my coat is the covering of the body.’</p> - -<p>“‘Do you expect then to rise, William, just -as you are—asthma, and all?’ The poor -man is often afflicted with asthma.</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ said he, ‘there will be delightful -breathing on the heavenly plains.’</p> - -<p>“‘But I can’t tell how all these things are -to be,’ said the young, conceited fellow.</p> - -<p>“‘How shouldst thou?’ said the old man,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</span> -taking off his cocked hat. ‘Put me the sky -into my hat, Edward.’</p> - -<p>“‘Ay, truly,’ said the lad, ‘that would be -a feat.’</p> - -<p>“‘Then fetch me all the water of the pond -there in this tumbler,’ offering the pert youth -a tumbler on a little hand-tray, in which he -had been taking water to some one.</p> - -<p>“‘Well, it just wouldn’t go in,’ said the -youth, laughing.</p> - -<p>“‘How should it?’ said the old Friend. -‘The sky is there, and the water is there, -and the love of God to his creatures is everywhere, -but they can none of them get into -thy little measures, nor into thy little head, -because these are too little for them. The -things are there, but the capacity to receive -them is wanting in them, and in thee, young -man.’”</p> - -<p>“That was a very fine answer,” said Ann. -“I like that very much.”</p> - -<p>“This William Theobald is the coachman<span class="pagenum" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</span> -of that odd man, Mr. George Barthe, who -went about saying such odd things to the -young people,” said George; “and he gave -us some curious anecdotes of him, for he -attends him to many great houses. At a -great house in Derbyshire, he says, Mr. Barthe -was fastening a lady’s teeth with gold wire, -and as he snipped continually pieces of the -wire off, the lady said, ‘Oh! let a cloth be -spread on the carpet, or the gold will be -lost.’</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ said the dentist, ‘it won’t be lost, -any of it.’</p> - -<p>“‘But it must be lost,’ insisted the lady.</p> - -<p>“‘No,’ added Mr. Barthe, gravely, ‘I -assure thee none of it will be lost. It will -all be found in the bill.’</p> - -<p>“The lady smiled, and was silent. At the -same place, Mr. Barthe went into the servants’ -hall, and made the servants very merry with -his odd talk. ‘Now,’ said he, ‘why is your -master like a penny loaf on the top of your<span class="pagenum" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</span> -church-steeple?’ They gave it up. ‘Because -he is high-bred.’ The servants were -very merry. ‘But,’ said the dry Quaker, ‘I -know now you are expecting that I should -leave you something. Well, I will leave as -much money as shall last you till I come -again, if you are careful,’ and with that he -fillipped a new halfpenny up to the ceiling, -where it stuck, to the great astonishment -of the servants’ hall. And there it is sticking -yet, says our Swedenborgian coachman, and -is shown to all the people that come to the -house.”</p> - -<p>“How <em>could</em> he do it!” said Letty.</p> - -<p>“I don’t know,” said George. “The old -man said he did not know himself, but that -he saw it done, and has seen it since.”</p> - -<p>“I had a good deal of talk with that -Mr. Ephraim Wire. Some wag said to me, -‘That is the Castleborough Nebuchadnezzar; -he lives on grass.’ I have heard him termed -an eccentric of the first rank. He certainly<span class="pagenum" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</span> -has some singular ideas, but there is something -in them. In the first place, he wants -a reform in the mode of spelling our words, -which, he says, is barbarous. They ought -to be spelled as they are pronounced. In -the second, he refuses to eat meat on principle. -He thinks it inhuman to kill animals -for food. I bade him recollect that God -expressly gave to Noah, and to all men after -him, all flesh for food, and that our Saviour -eat the paschal lamb. Those, he said, were -Jewish customs, and might do for Jews; but -we were Christians, and called to fulfil the -perfect law of love. I reminded him of the -preying of all animals on each other, from -the greatest to the least, and that therefore -it must be a law of nature, which is a law of -God. ‘We are not mere animals,’ he replied, -‘but men and Christians,’ I reminded him -that he could not fully carry out this system, -that every day he destroyed insects by treading -on them, and myriads of living things<span class="pagenum" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</span> -in water by drinking. ‘That,’ said he, ‘I -cannot help, but I spare pain as far as I -can.’”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Ann, “at least it is very -humane and praiseworthy. And so they call -him Nebuchadnezzar, because he lives on -vegetables.”</p> - -<p>“Just so,” added Mr. Woodburn; “but -Mr. Wire goes further. He had a great deal -to say on the mischievous modes of modern -dress, on ladies’ stays, and even on garters. -‘All tight ligatures,’ he says, ‘impede the -circulation of the blood, and injure the constitution.’ -He pulled up his loose trowsers, -and showed me that he wore short socks, -and thus avoided the necessity for garters.”</p> - -<p>Mr. Woodburn found much wisdom in -what the public of Castleborough then set -down as whims; but we know that Mr. -Wire’s philosophy has now become extensively -adopted. At that day he stood alone in it, -in all its branches.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</span></p> - -<p>This conversation was not terminated when -Miss Heritage and Miss Drury were seen -coming up the front garden in their riding-habits. -They were received with great gladness. -Miss Heritage had lost the appearance -of the Friend, for she wore a black hat with -her dark habit; and both she and her friend -looked fascinating. They were going an early -ride, and wanted the young ladies to join -them. They not only accepted the invitation -joyfully, but George volunteered his company, -and went out to see about the horses.</p> - -<p>The whole Woodburn family were charmed -with Miss Drury. There was something so -bright and frank in her manner and intelligent -countenance; her voice had an animating -tone in it. She was, moreover, so much -at home in all the affairs of a farm; though, -unlike Mrs. Woodburn, she did not take any -part in the actual economy of the dairy; -could neither make a cheese nor mould a -pound of butter, her father having had her<span class="pagenum" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</span> -educated exclusively as a lady to preside in a -house, and not to partake in its professional -labours, yet she knew all that belonged to -the whole business of farm-life. She talked -with Mrs. Woodburn of all matters within -and without doors, and could give to -Mr. Woodburn a most perfect idea of the -style and routine of cultivation in the West -Riding of Yorkshire, describe the cereals -which flourished most there, the advantages -of stall feeding, the particular character and -value of stock there. Mr. Woodburn was -delighted, and said he should inflict on her -a walk through his farm one of these days, -and enlighten himself by her opinions. Elizabeth -Drury said she should enjoy such a -walk greatly. All kinds of country life had -attractions for her: even hunting; and she -not unfrequently followed Lord Faversham’s -hounds with her father.</p> - -<p>George announced the horses at the door; -and the little cavalcade was soon in the<span class="pagenum" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</span> -saddle. Sylvanus Crook, who had been the -two ladies’ groom so far, returned home, and -George Woodburn took charge of the whole -party. It was a beautiful sight to see those -four lovely women and the manly George -Woodburn ascending the road from the -house, and then, breaking into a canter, -disappear beneath the trees at the turn of -the road under the sand-cliffs.</p> - -<p>“Nothing like youth, my dear,” said Mr. -Woodburn to his wife, as they turned into -the house.</p> - -<p>“Except a happy middle-age, my dear -Leonard,” replied Mrs. Woodburn, “with such -good, happy children, and dear friends about -us. I don’t envy youth, but I love to see -them enjoying their golden days.”</p> - -<p>“You are right, mother,” said Mr. Woodburn; -“I sometimes almost tremble when I -think on the long run of blessings that we -have had.”</p> - -<p>“Nay, my dear Leonard,” said Mrs. Woodburn,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</span> -“don’t imagine trouble because you -are happy; that’s a shadow out of Mrs. -Heritage’s sermon.”</p> - -<p>“Perhaps it is,” said Mr. Woodburn; “let us -take a turn down the garden and orchard, -and disperse it by seeing how things are -coming on.”</p> - -<p>So the two loving ones wandered slowly -from flower-beds to kitchen-beds of vegetables; -and saw what peas, what beans -wanted gathering; how the raspberries were -getting too ripe; how the wall-fruit was -prospering; and then surveyed the apple, -pear, and plum trees in the ample old -orchard, and decided that the crop would -be abundant and fine. They sate long on a -seat under tall hazels overlooking the country, -and conversed of many things, past and present, -and of events connected with their -neighbours, and the farms that lay around; -and as they slowly wandered back towards -the house, the shadow was gone, and a calm<span class="pagenum" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</span> -and sober joy, like that of the day itself, lay -on their minds.</p> - -<p>At noon the young people returned, full of -enjoyment of their ride, and George escorted -the two visitors to Fair Manor gate. All -were eloquent in Miss Drury’s praise: her -fine figure and easy grace on Maydew’s back; -her light and kindly spirit; her admiration -of their country, and familiarity with everything -she saw. Ann loved her more and -more for her love of her church, and of -religion, without its formality. Letty was -delighted with a boating excursion that Miss -Heritage had proposed to-morrow, and tea on -the great island, with only just themselves, -Miss Heritage and Miss Drury.</p> - -<p>“And,” said Ann—“Mr. Harry Thorsby; -you did not mean to omit him, -Letty?”</p> - -<p>Letty was already half way upstairs, to be -ready for dinner.</p> - -<p>In the afternoon of the next day, Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</span> -Heritage and Miss Drury walked down to -Woodburn Grange, and said their boat was -waiting at Wink’s Ferry, with Tom Boddily -and Sylvanus Crook to assist in rowing. -Thorsby was already at the Grange in high -spirits, as usual, and soon the youthful party -were descending through garden and old -orchard to the river. Thorsby and Tom Boddily -were to row Ann and Letty Woodburn, -and George Woodburn, Millicent Heritage -and Elizabeth Drury, aided by Sylvanus. -This was done, for one thing, that Thorsby -and Sylvanus might not get to sparring on -religious points. The day was glorious, the -wind was still, the sunshine lay tranquilly -over the lovely landscape, and the two boats, -with a pleasurable leisureliness, ascended the -fair winding stream, amid much talk and -sprightly “chaffing,” as Thorsby termed it, -from one boat to another. The fields, now -cleared of their hay-crop, were scattered over -with fine herds of cattle, looking peacefulness<span class="pagenum" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</span> -itself; the trees on the slopes, on their left -hand, as they ascended, seemed to dream in -their slumbrous foliage. Our young girls -came opposite to Cotmanhaye Manor, and -admired its fine situation on its swelling hill, -and the old tower a little in advance on the -steeper ridge. When out of sight of the -house, they moored their boats, and ascended -the steep slope, to get a view from the hill. -Then, having gazed over the extensive scenes -beyond with many expressions of delight, -they beckoned to the boats below, to advance -up the river, and they themselves took a fine -round through woods, and valleys, and past -an old water-mill, half-hidden in its alder-trees. -Here they made prize of a quantity -of white and yellow water-lilies, and conveyed -them to the boat. The descending sun -warned them to return down the river to -their appointed tea at five o’clock, on the -great island under Rockville Grove.</p> - -<p>Anon, they were landing there, and Miss<span class="pagenum" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</span> -Drury was in raptures with that little Fairyland. -On one side, the woods of Rockville -hung darkly down the steep slope, on the -other ran the crystalline river, and the wide -meadows showed greenly beyond. Abundant -willows, mixed with midsummer flowers, made -a soft, verdurous fence round the island. Its -mown surface was like a garden, or park lawn. -Already Betty Trapps was busy there. She -had kindled a fire near the upper end, where -a burnt spot evidenced the fact of former fires -on similar occasions. The tea kettle was -briskly boiling. Under a large oak, a snow-white -cloth was spread, and upon it showed -all apparatus for tea and coffee, with abundance -of bread and butter, plum cake, spiced -cakes, custards, cream, and grapes and -peaches.</p> - -<p>Betty and Tom Boddily officiated, and -Sylvanus, as of a soberer age, and a little tired -with his rowing, was invited to join the merry -circle which surrounded the rural feast<span class="pagenum" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</span> -Lively talk and flights of humour alternated -with the emptying and filling of cups. -Thorsby proposed a song, and sung Dibdin’s -“Black-eyed Susan,” Miss Drury delighted -them with the False Knight, “I love and I -ride away.” When some other songs had -followed, and Tom Boddily had given them a -further bird performance on his magic pipes, -“Now,” said Thorsby, “for a riddle. You -don’t know it; for I have just made it.”</p> - -<p>“Splendid!” said they all; “now for -it.”</p> - -<p>“What is that which lies down, and stands -up, and sails, and flies, at the same time?”</p> - -<p>“It is a genuine, bonâ-fide riddle, is it,” -asked George Woodburn, “and no hoax, -Thorsby?”</p> - -<p>“Oh! out and out genuine,” said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>Nobody could guess it. Thorsby was -delighted, and would not tell it. “No, as it -was bran new, it must not be let out all at -once.” Suddenly he said. “Ah! I’ll ask<span class="pagenum" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</span> -Tom Boddily, he is as sharp as a needle with -two points.” Tom was at the fire, at some -distance, laying on more sticks. Up jumped -Thorsby. There was a general titter, and -hands held up in merry amazement—he did -not hear or see them. The next moment -Thorsby was at Tom’s side, and propounded -the riddle.</p> - -<p>“Did you see that heron?” Tom said, -pointing down the river.</p> - -<p>“No, Tom,” said Thorsby. He turned, -gazing in vain down the river.</p> - -<p>“But never mind the heron,” said Thorsby; -“the riddle! the riddle!”</p> - -<p>“I have it,” said Tom, “it is windmill -sails.”</p> - -<p>“Windmill sails!” exclaimed Thorsby. -“How in the world could you guess that?”</p> - -<p>“I read it,” said Tom.</p> - -<p>“Read it! No, impossible!” exclaimed -Thorsby; “for I only just made it. Read -it! where <em>did</em> you read it?”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</span></p> - -<p>“Mr. George knows it,” said Tom.</p> - -<p>“Never!” exclaimed Thorsby, running back -to the party, whom, to his wonder, he found -in a full chorus of laughter, and the ladies -clapping their hands in delight.</p> - -<p>“What is up?” said Thorsby, wondering -still more; “what is the meaning of it?” -And throwing himself down, he said, “Boddily -says, George, you know my riddle, -and that he himself knows it, and has -read it.”</p> - -<p>At this the merriment increased extremely, -and George, taking a page of note-paper from -Thorsby’s back, which he had pinned there, -with the words largely written in pencil, -“<span class="smcap">Windmill Sails</span>,” held it before Thorsby’s -face, amidst the jubilance of the ladies.</p> - -<p>“Ha-a-a!” said Thorsby, “now I see! -That’s where Boddily read it. That’s why -he pretended there was a heron, to make me -turn my back towards him. Well, George, I -give you credit for great cleverness; I hope<span class="pagenum" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</span> -you give me a little for making that -riddle.”</p> - -<p>“Oh, it is excellent—first-rate,” said all -together.</p> - -<p>“And now I have another idea,” said Thorsby, -suddenly getting up, and fetching the -water-lilies from the boat. Putting these down, -he took Tom Boddily, and soon returned with -an armful of flowers, meadow-sweet, forget-me-nots, -like lapis lazuli; and by the aid of -the ladies, and some strings of osier-bark, -these were woven into garlands, which he -said they would hang up in honour of this -day. When they were finished, however, -here and there interspersed with oak and -hazel-leaves, Thorsby immediately proceeded -to crown the ladies with them. Truly they -looked very beautiful, and Thorsby was complimented -on his taste. George, who had -quietly gone aside, dexterously took off -Letty’s garland, and put her on one of willow, -in pretence that she was forsaken. Thorsby<span class="pagenum" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</span> -as quietly plucked it off, and replaced it by -one of forget-me-nots, putting the willow on -George’s head amid much mirth.</p> - -<p>Betty Trapps, however, was indignant at -the water-lilies, because, she said, they came -out of deep water, which meant trouble; and, as -for forget-me-nots, “It’s all wrong,” she added.</p> - -<p>“All wrong!” exclaimed Thorsby. “Why, -forget-me-nots are most poetical and significant. -Everybody likes forget-me-nots.”</p> - -<p>“Well, everybody doesn’t, for I don’t,” -said Betty.</p> - -<p>“Why, you don’t like true blue, then, -Betty,” said Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“True fiddlesticks!” said Betty; “don’t -tell me about true blue.</p> - -<div class="blockquot2 fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: -.5em;">‘Green’s forsaken,</span><br> -Blue’s forsworn,<br> -Pink’s the colour as should be worn,<br> -Blue and yellow<br> -The lads will follow,<br> -Green and blue<br> -Will never prove true,’<br> -</div> - -<p>and you’ve got both in these garlands.”</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</span></p> - -<p>“Why, that is a new philosophy,” said -Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“New philosophy it may be,” said Betty, -“but it’s old truth; old as my great-grandmother, -and older, I’ll be bound. It is true -as Scripture, for it comes down from our old -auncetters, and has proved its-sen true, or it -wouldna have lasted till now.”</p> - -<p>Betty then began gathering the tea-tackle, -as she called it, together, and sung to herself—</p> - -<div class="blockquot fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: -.5em;">“How hard is my fate, once I freedah enjied,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">Andars happy as happy could be;</span><br> -I was seized by the forces their fires to feed,<br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And captain for loss of the sea.”</span><br> -</div> - -<p>“What is the meaning of that, Betty?” -asked Thorsby.</p> - -<p>“Meaning? It’s a song my mother used -to sing,” said Betty, going on with her -picking up cups and saucers, and giving them -to Boddily to stow away in a basket, “to us -children to get us to sleep, and I’ve cried my -eyes out many a time, and gone to sleep sobbing,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</span> -and dost think I don’t know th’ meaning -on’t? Oh, it’s very cutting, is that owd -song.”</p> - -<p>“Well,” said Thorsby, “I have heard -something like it, which I do understand;” -and he sang—</p> - -<p class="blockquot fs80"> -<span style="margin-left: -1.5em;">“How hard is my fate, once I freedom enjoyed,</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And was happy as happy could be;</span><br> -I was seized by the foes their fiat to feel,<br> -<span style="margin-left: 1em;">And was captive, alas! on the sea.”</span><br> -</p> - -<p>“Oh, get out,” said Betty; “that’s the -way such shallow pates takes the life out of -things. Dost think I should iver have cried -over such stuff as that? Why, that is as flat -as ditch-water; there’s nothing cutting in it. -Oh! but th’ owd song <em>is</em> cutting! It goes -to the quick; it goes through bone and -marrow. It makes cowd water seem to run -down my back when I sing it sometimes o’er -my house-work.”</p> - -<p>Thorsby laughed, and Betty cast a most -disdainful look at him.</p> - -<p>“Here’s a man, now,” she said, “who goes<span class="pagenum" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</span> -walking with a stick and a dog, like a gentleman, -and knows no better nor that! But -I’ll fit thee, young man, I will!”</p> - -<p>And here we may antedate our story to -say that Betty did not forget to do it. The -next morning when the family came downstairs -at Woodburn Grange, where Thorsby -stayed all night, they were all edified by seeing -pinned up conspicuously on the staircase -a memorandum of his which Betty had found—“To -remember not to forget to send my -trousers to be mended, ditto, boots.” Thorsby -came the last of all into the breakfast-room, -looking very hot, but when the next person -went upstairs, the memorandum had disappeared.</p> - -<p>As our jovial party of islanders were sitting, -the ladies in their garlands, suddenly a boat -was perceived coming down under the side -of the island; presently it moored, and two -gentlemen ascended the bank, and approached -the ladies.</p> - -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</span></p> - -<p>“Dr. Leroy,” said several voices; “and,” -added George Woodburn, “as I live, Henry -Clavering!”</p> - -<p>He rushed forward to meet Mr. Clavering, -and there was a most affectionate handshaking. -Letty and Millicent Heritage also -ran forward to joyously welcome the son of Sir -Emanuel, who had been two years abroad. -Ann Woodburn advanced more sedately but -cordially, and, with a somewhat flushed countenance, -welcomed their young friend, introducing -Miss Drury to him.</p> - -<p>“Why, when did you arrive, Clavering?” -asked George Woodburn.</p> - -<p>“Only yesterday,” he replied; “but I -happened to meet Dr. Leroy in Castleborough, -and he was kind enough to come up to-day -and tell me of your water-frolic, and here -we are.”</p> - -<p>“A thousand welcomes,” said George, looking -very happy, and so said the ladies. A -great many questions and answers from both<span class="pagenum" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</span> -sides passed, and Thorsby, springing up, -said, “Well, now I declare, that was prophetic. -I thought these garlands were only -a sportive freak, but they were in honour -of Mr. Clavering’s return, and they shall -be suspended from the branches of this -oak.”</p> - -<p>“A bright idea,” said all the company; -and all were up and very busy suspending -the garlands from the boughs of the spreading -tree. Henry Clavering thanked them -for the compliment, and the party set out to -return home. The boats were sent up the -river with Tom Boddily, Sylvanus, and Betty, -having first put on shore the young people, -who walked through the woods and lanes in -abundance of interesting talk. Supper awaited -them, and a joyous welcome for Mr. Clavering -from Mr. and Mrs. Woodburn. As the gentlemen -took their leave at night, Miss Drury -whispered to Ann Woodburn, “I like this -Mr. Clavering. He is so thoroughly a gentleman,<span class="pagenum" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</span> -and, I am sure, so good and -sensible.”</p> - -<p>“True,” said Ann, “but, like us all, not -without a fault.”</p> -<br> - -<p class="center">END OF VOL. I.</p> -<br> -<br> - - -<p class="center">BRADBURY, EVANS, AND CO., PRINTERS, WHITEFRIARS.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak x-ebookmaker-important" id="BY_THE_SAME_AUTHOR">BY THE SAME AUTHOR.</h2> -</div> - - -<p class="center"><em>Three Vols.</em></p> - -<p class="center">MADAM DORRINGTON ON THE -DENE.</p> - -<p class="center">A STORY OF ENGLISH LIFE.</p> - -<p>“Round Madam Dorrington’s Dene, country neighbours are sown -as rich in peculiarity as in those which diversified the existence of -Fredrika Bremer’s heroines. The story is full of vigour and -freshness.”—<i lang="la" xml:lang="la">Athenæum.</i></p> - -<p>“We have now to welcome Mr. Howitt as a fiction writer of -high excellence. He has evinced a rare power in the portraiture of -his principal character—the inimitable Madam Dorrington. The -characters of the sterner sex are also admirably drawn. Jeremiah -Gould, the vicar of Westwood, is worthy of Goldsmith.”—<cite>Weekly -Chronicle.</cite></p> - -<p>“Madam Dorrington is a model of womanly beauty, dignity, -tenderness, and truth. There is no female character of modern -times worthy of being compared to her.”—<cite>Sunday Times.</cite></p> - -<p>“It is English country life in its most charming aspect.”—<cite>Examiner.</cite></p> -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center"><em>Cheaper Edition. Two Vols. 12s.</em></p> - -<p class="center">THE HALL AND THE HAMLET.</p> - -<p>“This book deserves a place in the library of fiction by the -village books of Miss Mitford.”—<cite>Athenæum.</cite></p> -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center"><em>Three Vols.</em></p> - -<p class="center"> -THE MAN OF THE PEOPLE;<br> -<span class="smcap">Or</span>, ENGLAND FORTY YEARS AGO.<br> -</p> - -<p>“A novel which will be admitted into the foremost rank of our -political romances.”—<cite>Leader.</cite></p> - -<p>“It is a remarkable book, which refers to eventful times, and -brings some important persons who belong to fact, into the striking -pages of fiction. The lover of literature will admire the eloquent -style and spirited tone of these volumes.”—<cite>Sun.</cite></p> - -<p>“It is pourtrayed with vividness and truth; the interest of the -story is strong and sustained.”—<cite>Spectator.</cite></p> - -<p>“Certainly the most important novel of the season.”—<cite>Observer.</cite></p> - -<p>“Those persons who feel an interest in learning the condition of -society and the state of the working classes, at the period immediately -following the peace after the battle of Waterloo, will find a -good record of it in ‘The Man of the People.’”—<cite>Athenæum.</cite></p> -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center">HURST AND BLACKETT.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - -<div class="chapter"> -<p><span class="pagenum" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</span></p> - -<h2 class="nobreak x-ebookmaker-important" id="BY_MARY_HOWITT">BY MARY HOWITT.</h2> -</div> -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center"><em>Three Vols.</em></p> - -<p class="center">THE COST OF CAERGWYN.</p> - -<p class="center">A STORY OF LIFE IN WALES.</p> - - -<p>“A story that must live and increase in popularity as its great -merits become known.... Mrs. Howitt has done for the Principality -what Scott and Lever have done for the sister kingdoms.”—<cite>Daily -News.</cite></p> - -<p>“To construct a novel of a powerful and sustained interest, -demands very high and exceptional qualities, which Mrs. Howitt -was known to possess, but has never exhibited them to so much -advantage as in ‘The Cost of Caergwyn.’ Simeon Hughs is a real -creation.”—<cite>Standard.</cite></p> - -<p>“Enriched from first to last by the grace of writing, and the -far nobler grace of Christian earnestness, that are sure to be found -in everything penned by Mary Howitt.”—<cite>Examiner.</cite></p> - -<p>“Mrs. Howitt makes you live amongst Welsh scenery and -people by the marvellous fidelity of her descriptions, and the life-like -reality of her sketches.”—<cite>Sun.</cite></p> - -<p>“The tale is one of unabated interest. It is one of the happiest -descriptions of Welsh life and manners that we ever came across.”—<cite>John -Bull.</cite></p> - -<p>“It is delightfully written. Its pictures of Welsh exteriors and -interiors are wonderfully life-like.”—<cite>Sunday Times.</cite></p> -<hr class="r5"> - -<p class="center">HURST AND BLACKETT.</p> -<hr class="chap x-ebookmaker-drop"> - - -<div class="transnote"> -<h2>Transcriber’s Notes</h2> - -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 136 Changed strip along the wood-sides to: woodsides</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 139 Changed his extensive knowlege to: knowledge</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 145 Removed extra word to: get thee to to do</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 206 Added quote after: pledged for five pounds.</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 228 Changed sprang away up-stairs to: upstairs</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 246 Changed In summer his cornfields to: corn-fields</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 280 Changed under those dark eyelashes to: eye-lashes</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 299 Added quote before: If I were a lad</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: .5em;">pg 327 Changed single quote to double quote after: both in</span><br> -<span style="margin-left: 5em;">these garlands.</span><br> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK WOODBURN GRANGE, VOL. 1 OF 3 ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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