\ m m m University of California Berkeley Gift of Ephraim Kahn BRACEBR1DGE HALL, OR BY GEOFFREY CRAYON, GENT. Under this cloud 1 walk, Gentlemen. I am a traveller, who, having surveyed most of the terrestrial angles of this globe, am hithf r arri ved, to peruse this little spot. CHRISTMAS ORDINARY. IN TWO VOLUMES. VOL. II. NEW- YORK: PRINTED BY C. S. VAN WINKLE, No. 101 Greenwich Street. 1822. Southern District of New- York, ss. BE IT REMEMBERED, that on the ninth day of May, in tf sixth vear of th Independence of the United SU"tp 01 Americ in the forty- a C. S- Van "vVinkie, of the said district, hath deposited in this office the tiLc of a hook, the right whereof he claims as proprietor, in the words following, to wit: " Bracebridge Hall, or the Humourists. A Medley, by Geoffrey Cray on, Gent. ' Under this cloud I walk, gentlemen. I am a traveller, who, having surveyed most of the terrestrial Angles of this globe, am hith- r ar- rivexi, to peruse this little spot.' Christmas Ordinary In two volumes. Vol. II." IN CONFORMITY to the act of t\te Congress of the United States entitled, '* An act for the encouragement of learning, by securing the copies of maps, charts, and books, to the, authors and proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned;" and also, to an act. entitled, " An ad supplementary to an art, entitled, an act for the encouragement of lean'iir:!>. by securing the copies of maps, charts, arid books, to the au thors nnd proprietors of such copies, during the times therein mentioned, and extending the benefits thereof to the arts of designing, engraving, and etching historical and other prints." JAMES DILL, Clerk of the Southern District of New- York. CONTENTS. English Country Gentlemen, 9 A Bachelor's Confessions, 23 English Gravity, 31 Gipsies, 42 May-Day Customs, 51 Village Worthies, 60 The Schoolmaster, . 65 The School, 75 Popular Superstitions, 81 A Village Politician, 100 Travelling, 109 May-day, 121 The Manuscript, 139 Annette Delarbre, 143 Th Culprit, 188 The Historian, 202 The Haunted House, 205 Dolph Heyliger, 213 The Wedding 337 ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. His certain life, that never can deceive him, Is full of thousand sweets, and rich content ; The smooth-leav'd beeches in the field receive him With coolest shade, till noon-tide's heat be spent. His life is neither tost in boist'rous seas, Or the vexatious world, or lost in slothful ease. Pleas'd and full blest he lives, when he his God can please. PHINEAS FLETCHER. I TAKE great pleasure in accompanying the Squire in his perambulations about his estate, in which he is often attended by a kind of cabinet council. His prime minister, the steward, is a very worthy and honest old man, and one of those veteran retainers that assume a right of way ; that is to say, a right to have his own way, from having; lived time out of mind on the place. He loves the estate even better than he does the VOL. II. 2 10 ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN.. Squire, and thwarts the latter sadly in many of his projects of improvement and alteration. In deed, the old man is a little apt to oppose every plan that does not originate with himself, and will hold long arguments about it, over a stile, or on a rise of ground, until the Squire, who has a high opinion of his ability and integrity, is fain to give up the point. Such concession imme diately mollifies the old steward ; and it often hap pens, that after walking a field or two in silence with his hands behind his back, chewing the cud of reflection, he will suddenly observe, that " he has been turning the matter over in his mind, and, upon the whole, he thinks he will take his honour's advice." Christy, the huntsman, is another of the Squire's frequent attendants to whom he continually re fers, in matters of local history, as to a chroni cle of the estate, having been in a manner ac quainted with many of the trees from the very time that they were acorns. Old Nimrod, as I have already shown, is rather pragmatical on all these points of knowledge upon which he values ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. 11 himself; but the Squire never contradicts him ; and is certainly one of the most indulgent po tentates that was ever hen-pecked by his minis ters. He often laughs about it himself, and evi dently yields to these old men in compliance with the bent of his own humour ; he likes this honest independence of old age, for with all his aristocratical feelings there is nothing that dis gusts him sooner than any appearance of fawn ing or servility. I really have seen no display of royal state that could compare with one of the Squire's progresses about his paternal fields, and through his hereditary woodlands, with several of these faithful adherents about him, and followed by a body guard of dogs. He encourages a frank ness and manliness of deportment among his dependants, and is the personal friend of his tenants ; inquiring into their concerns, and as sisting them in times of difficulty and hardship. This has rendered him one of the most popular, and, of course, one of the happiest of land lords. 12 ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. Indeed, I do not know a more enviable condi tion of life than that of an English gentleman of sound judgment and good feelings, who passes the greater part of his time on an hereditary es tate in the country. From the excellence of the roads, and the rapidity and exactness of the pub lic conveyances, he is enabled to command all the comforts and conveniences, all the intelli gence and novelties of the capital ; while he is removed from its hurry and distractions. He has ample means of occupation and amusement within his own domains ; he may diversify his time by rural occupations ; by rural sports ; by study, and by the delights of friendly society collected within his own hospitable halls. Or if his views and feelings are of a more ex tensive and liberal nature, he has it greatly in his power to do good, and to have that good imme diately reflected back upon himself. He can render essential service to his country, by as sisting in the disinterested administration of the laws; by watching over the opinions and prin ciples of the lower orders around him ; by dif- ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. 13 fusing among them those lights which may be important to their welfare ; by mingling frankly among them ; gaining their confidence ; be coming the immediate auditor of their com plaints ; informing himself of their wants ; mak ing himself a channel through which their griev ances may be quietly communicated to the pro per sources of mitigation and relief; or by becoming, if need be, the intrepid and incor ruptible guardian of their liberties, the enlight ened champion of their rights. All this, it appears to me, can be done without any sacrifice of personal dignity ; without any degrading arts of popularity ; without any truck ling to vulgar prejudices, or concurrence in vul gar clamour ; but by the steady influence of sin cere and friendly council ; of fair, upright, and generous deportment. Whatever may be said of English mobs and English demagogues, I have never met with a people more open to reason ; more considerate in their tempers ; more tracta ble by argument in the roughest times, than the English* They are remarkably quick at dis- 14 ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. cerning and appreciating whatever is manly and honourable. They are by nature and habit me thodical and orderly, and feel the value of all that is regular and respectable. They may oc casionally be deceived by sophistry, and excited into turbulence by public distresses and the mis representations of designing men ; but. open their eyes, and they will eventually rally round the landmarks of steady truth and deliberate good sense. They are fond of established customs ; they are fond of long established names ; and that love of order and quiet which characterizes the nation, gives a vast influence to the descend ants of the old families, whose forefathers have been lords of the soil from time immemorial. It is when the rich, and well educated, and highly privileged classes neglect their duties ; when they neglect to study the interests, and conciliate the affections, and instruct the opi nions, and champion the rights of the people, that the latter become discontented and turbu lent, and fall into the hands of demagogues. The demagogue always steps in where the pa- ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. 15 triot is wanting. There is a common high handed cant, among high feeding, and, as they fancy themselves, high minded men, about put ting down the mob but all true physicians know that it is better to sweeten the blood than to attack the tumour ; to apply the emollient rather than the cautery. It is absurd in a country like England, where there is so much freedom, and such a jealousy of right, for any man to assume an aristocrati- cal tone, and to talk superciliously of the com mon people. There is no rank that makes him independent of the opinion and affections of his fellow men-; there is no rank nor distinction that severs him from his fellow subject ; and if by any gradual neglect or assumption on the one side, and discontent and jealousy on the other, the orders of society should really sepa rate, let those that stand on the eminence be ware that the chasm is not mining at their feet. The orders of society in all well constituted governments are mutually bound together, and important to each other ; there can be no such 16 ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. thing in a free government as a vacuum ; and wherever one is likely to take place by the drawing off of the rich and intelligent from the poor, the bad passions of society will rush in r to fill up the space, and rend the whole asunder. Though born and brought up in a republic, and more and more confirmed in republican principles by every year's observation and ex perience, yet I am not insensible to the excel lence that may exist in other forms of govern ment ; nor to the fact that they may be more suitable to the situation and circumstances of the countries in which they exist. I have en deavoured rather to look at them as they are, and to observe how they are calculated to effect the end which they propose. Considering, therefore, the mixed nature of the government of this country, and its representative form, I have looked with admiration at the manner in which the wealth, and influence, and intelli gence, were spread over its whole surface; not, as in some monarchies, drained from the coun try, and collected in towns and cities, I have ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. 17 considered the great rural establishments of the nobility, and the lesser establishments of the gentry, as so many reservoirs of wealth and in telligence distributed about the kingdom, apart from the towns, to irrigate, freshen, and ferti lize the surrounding country. 1 have looked upon them, too, as the august retreats of patri ots and statesmen, where, in the enjoyment of honourable independence and elegant leisure, they might train up their minds to appear in those legislative assemblies, whose debates and decisions form the study and precedents of other nations, and involve the interests of the world. I have been both surprised and disappointed, therefore, at rinding that on this subject I was often indulging in a Utopian dream rather than a well grounded opinion. I have been concern ed at finding that these fine estates were too often involved, and mortgaged or placed in the hands of creditors, and the owners exiled from their paternal lands. There is an extravagance, I am told, that runs parallel with wealth ; a lavish VOL. ii. 3 IB ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. expenditure among the great; a senseless com petition among the aspiring; a heedless, joyless dissipation among all the upper ranks, that often beggars even these splendid establishments, breaks down the pride and principles of their possessors, and makes too many of them mere place hunters, or shifting absentees. It is thus that so many are thrown into the hands of go vernment ; and a court, which ought to be the most pure and honourable in Europe, is so often degraded by noble but importunate time-servers. It is thus, too, that so many become exiles from their native land ; crowding the hotels of foreign nations, and expending upon thankless strangers the wealth so hardly drained from their laborious peasantry. Having, as it were, their roots in their own country, but spreading forth their branches and bearing their fruits in another. I have look ed upon these latter with a mixture of censure and concern. Knowing the almost bigotted fondness of an Englishman for his native home, I can conceive what must be their compunction and regret, when they call to mind, amidst the ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. 19 sun-burnt plains of France, the green fields of England ; the hereditary groves which they have abandoned ; the hospitable roof of their fathers, which they have left desolate, or to be inhabited by strangers. But retrenchment is no plea for an abandonment of country. They have risen with the prosperity of the land let them abide its fluctuations, and conform to its fortunes. It is not for the rich to draw off from the country be cause it is suffering. Let them share, in their relative proportion, the common lot ; they owe it to the land that has elevated them to honour and affluence. When the poor have to diminish their scanty morsel of bread ; when they have to compound with the cravings of nature, and study with how little they can do, and not be starved ; it is not then for the rich to fly, and diminish still farther the resources of the poor, that they themselves may live in splendour in a cheaper country. Let them rather retire to their estates, and there practise retrenchment. Let them return to that noble simplicity, that practi cal good sense, that honest pride, which form the 20 ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. foundation of true English character, and from them they may again rear the edifice of fair and honourable prosperity. On the rural habits of the English nobility and gentry on the manner in which .they dis charge their duties on their patrimonial posses sions depend greatly the virtue and welfare of the nation. So long as they pass the greater part of their time in the quiet and purity of the country ; surrounded by the monuments of their illustrious ancestors ; surrounded by every thing that can inspire generous pride, noble emula tion, and amiable and magnanimous sentiment, so long they are safe, and in them the nation may repose its interests and its honour. But the moment that they become the servile throng- ers of court avenues, and give themselves up to the political intrigues and heartless dissipations of the metropolis, that moment they lose the real nobility of their natures, and become the mere leeches of the country. That the great majority of nobility and gen try in England are endowed with high notions ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. 21 of honour and independence I thoroughly be lieve. They have evidenced it lately, on very important questions ; and have given an exam ple of adherence to principle in preference to party and power, that must have astonished many of the venal and obsequious courts of Europe. Such are the glorious effects of free dom, even when infused into a constitution. But it seems to me that they are apt to forget the po sitive nature of their duties ; and to fancy that their eminent privileges are only so many means of self indulgence. They should recollect that in a constitution like that of England, the titled orders are intended to be as useful as they are ornamental ; and it is their virtues alone that can render them both. Their duties are divided between the sovereign and the subject; surround ing and giving lustre and dignity to the throne, and at the same time tempering and mitigating its rays, until they are transmitted in mild and genial radiance to the people. Born to leisure and opulence, they owe the exercise of their talents and the expenditure of their wealth, to 22 ENGLISH COUNTRY GENTLEMEN. their native country. They may be compared to the clouds, which being drawn up by the sun and elevated in the heavens, reflect and magnify his splendour ; while they repay the earth from which they derive their sustenance, by returning their treasures to its bosom in fer tilizing showers. A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. I'll live a private, pensive, single life. THE COLLIER OF CROYDON. I WAS sitting in my room, a morning or two since, reading, when some one tapped at the door, and Master Simon entered. He had an unusually fresh appearance ; he had put on a bright green riding coat, with a bunch of vio lets in the button hole, and had the air of an old bachelor trying to rejuvenate himself. He had not, however, his usual briskness and vivacity, but loitered about the room with somewhat of absence of manner, humming the old song, " go lovely rose, tell her that wastes her time and me ;" and then, leaning against the window, and looking upon the landscape, he uttered a very au- 24 A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. dible sigh. As I had not been accustomed to see Master Simon in a pensive mood, I thought there might be some vexation preying on his mind, and I endeavoured to introduce a cheerful strain of conversation ; but he was not in the vein to follow it up, and proposed that we should take a walk. It w r as a beautiful morning, of that soft vernal temperature that seems to thaw all the frost out of one's blood, and to set all na ture in a ferment. The very fishes felt its influ ence : the cautious trout ventured out of his dark hole to seek his mate ; the roach and the dace rose up to the surface of the brook to bask in the sunshine, and the amorous frog piped from among the rushes. If ever an oyster can really fall in love, as has been said or sung, it must be on such a morning. The weather certainly had its effect even upon Master Simon ; for he seemed obstinately bent upon the pensive mood. Instead of skipping briskly along, smacking his dog whip, whistling quaint ditties, or telling sporting anecdotes, he leaned on my arm, and talked about the ap- A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. 25 preaching nuptials ,' from whence he made seve ral digressions upon the character of women ; touched a little upon the tender passion ; and made sundry very excellent, though rather trite, observations upon disappointments in love. It was evident that he had something on his mind which he wished to impart, but felt awkward in approaching it. I was curious to see to what this strain would lead, but I was determined not to assist him. Indeed, I mischievously pretend ed to turn the conversation, and talked of his usual topics, dogs, horses, and hunting ; but he W 7 as very brief in his replies, and invariably got back, by hook or by crook, into the sentimental vein. At length we came to a clump of trees that overhung a whispering brook, with a rustic bench at their feet. The trees were grievously scored with letters and devices, which had grown out of all shape and size by the growth of the bark ; and it appeared that this grove had served as a kind of register of the family loves from time immemorial. Here Master Simon made a pause ; pulled up a tuft of flowers ; threw VOL, II. 4 26 A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. them one by one into the water, and at length turning somewhat abruptly upon me, asked me if I had ever been in love. I confess the ques tion startled me a little, as I am not over fond of making confessions of my amorous follies ; and, above all, should never dream of choosing my friend Master Simon for a confidant. He did not wait, however, for a reply ; the inquiry was merely a prelude to a confession on his own part, and after several circumlocutions and whim sical preambles, he fairly disburdened himself of a very tolerable story of his having been cross ed in love. The reader will very probably suppose that it related to the gay widow, who jilted him, not long since, at Doncasier races. No such thing. It was about a sentimental passion that he once had for a most beautiful young lady, who wrote poetry and played on the harp. He used to serenade her, and indeed he described several tender and gallant scenes, in which he evidently was picturing himself, in his mind's eye, as some elegant hero of romance ; though unfortunately A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. 27 for the tale, I only saw him as he stood before me, a dapper little old bachelor, with a face like an apple that has dried with the bloom on it. What were the particulars of this tender tale, I have already forgotten ; indeed, I listened to it with a heart like a very pebble stone ; having hard work to repress a smile, while Master Si mon was putting on the amorous swain, uttering every now and then a sigh, and endeavouring to look sentimental and melancholy. All that I recollect is, that the lady, according to his account, was certainly a little touched, for she used to accept all the music that he copied for her harp, and the patterns that he drew for her dresses ; and he began to flatter himself, after a long course of delicate attentions, that he was gradually fanning a gentle flame in her heart, when she suddenly accepted the hand of a rich boisterous fox-hunting Baronet, with out either music or sentiment, who carried her by storm after a fortnight's courtship. Master Simon could not help concluding by some obser- A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. vation, about "modest merit," and the power of gold over the sex. As a remembrance of his passion, he pointed out a heart carved on the bark of one of the trees, but which in the process of time had grown out into a large excrescence ; and he showed me a lock of her hair, which he wore in a true lover's knot, in a large gold brooch. J have seldom met with an old bachelor that had not, some time or other, his nonsensical mo ment:, when he would become tender and senti mental, talk about the concerns of the heart, and have some confession of a delicate nature to make. Almost every man has some little tract of romance in his life to which he looks back with fondness, and about which he is apt to grow garrulous occasionally. He recollects himself, as he was at the time, young and game some ; and forgets that his hearers have no other idea of the hero of the tale, but such as he may appear at the time of telling it, peradventure a withered, whimsical, spindle-shanked old gentle- A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. 29 men. With married men, it is true, this is not so frequently the case ; their amorous romance is apt to decline after marriage ; why, I cannot for the life of me imagine ; but with a bachelor, though it may slumber, it never dies. It is al ways liable to break out again in transient flashes, and never so much as on a spring morning in the country ; or on a winter evening, when seated in his solitary chamber, stirring up the fire, and talking of matrimony. The moment that Master Simon had gone through his confession, and, to use the common phrase, " had made a clean breast of it," he be came quite himself again. He had settled the point which had been worrying his mind, and, doubtless, considered himself established as a man of sentiment in my opinion. Before we had finished our morning's stroll, he was sing ing as blythe as a grasshopper ; whistling to his dogs, and telling droll stories ; and I recollect that he was particularly facetious that day, at dinner, on the subject of matrimony : and uttered 30 A BACHELOR'S CONFESSIONS. several excellent jokes, not to be found in Joe Miller, that made the future bride blush, and look down, but set all the old gentlemen at the table in a roar, and absolutely brought tears into the general's eyes. ENGLISH GRAVITY. Merrie England ! ANCIENT PHRASE. THERE is ^nothing so rare as for a man to ride his hobby without molestation. I find the Squire has been repeatedly thwarted in his hu mours, and has suffered a kind of well meaning persecution of late, by a Mr. Faddy, an old gen tleman of some weight, at least of purse, who has moved into the neighbourhood. He is a worthy manufacturer, who having accumulated a large fortune by steam and spinning jennies, has retired from business, and buried himself in the shades of the country. He has taken an old country seat, and refitted it and painted it, until it looks not unlike his own manufactory. He has been particularly 32 ENGLISH GRAVITY. careful in mending the walls and hedges ; and putting up notices of spring guns and men traps in every part of his premises. Indeed, he shows great jealousy in asserting his territorial rights, having stopped up a foot path that led across one of his fields, and given notice, in staring letters, that " whoever was found trespasssing on these grounds would be prosecuted with the utmost rigour of the law." He has brought into the country with him all his trite max ims and practical habits of business; and is one of those intolerably prosing, sensible, use ful, troublesome old gentlemen, that go about wearying and worrying society with plans of public utility. He is very much disposed to be on good terms with the Squire, and is every now and then calling upon him with some excellent mea sure for the good of the neighbourhood ; which happens to run diametrically opposite to some one or other of the Squire's peculiar notions ; but which is " too sensible a measure" to be epenly opposed. ENGLISH GRAVITY. 33 Thus he has annoyed him excessively by en- Forcing the vagrant laws, expelling the gypsies, punishing poachers, and endeavouring to sup press country wakes and rustic games, which he considers great nuisances, and causes of the deadly sin of idleness. I have observed, how ever, that the manufacturer is gradually swell ing into the aristocrat; he is losing sight of his origin, or fancying that others have lost sight of it, and is attempting, in a casual way, to shuffle himself into the pack of genrility. He has a great deal to say about the " common people ;" talks of his park, his gamekeeper, and the ne cessity of keeping up the game laws; and makes frequent use of the phrase, " the gentry of the neighbourhood." He came to the Hall lately with a face full of business, to consult with the Squire about some mode of putting a stop to the frolicking at the vil lage on the approaching May-day, as it drew idle people together from all parts of the neighbour hood, who spent the day fiddling, and drinking, VOL, ii. 5 34 ENGLISH GRAVITY. and dancing, instead of staying at home to work for their families. As the Squire is at the bot tom of these May-day revels, it may be sup posed that the suggestions of the matter-of-fact, Mr. Faddy were not received with the best grace in the world. After he was gone the Squire could not contain his indignation at having his poeti cal cobwebs invaded by this buzzing blue bottle fly of traffick. In the warmth of his feelings he made a whimsical tirade at the whole race of manufac turers, whom he accused of being the marrers of the face of the country, and the destroyers of rural manners. " Sir," said( he with emotion, " it makes my heart bleed to see all our fine streams dammed up and bestrode by cotton mills ; our valleys smoking with steam engines ; to hear the din of the hammer and the loom scaring away all our rural delights ; to see our sturdy peasantry metamorphosed into pin ma kers and stocking weavers; and merry Sher wood, and all the green wood haunts of Robin Hood, covered with manufacturing towns. ENGLISH GRAVITY. 35 " Sir, T have stood on the tottering ruins of Dudley Castle, and looked round with an aching heart, on what were once beautiful vales and fertile hills, now turned into a mere Campus Phlegrae. The whole country reeking with coal pits ; a region of fire, where furnaces and smelting houses were vomiting forth flumes and smoke. The people, pale and ghastly, looked more like demons than human beings, as the.y toiled among these noxious exhalations ; and the clanking wheels and engines seen through the murky atmosphere, looked like instruments of torture in this terrestrial pandemonium! What is to become of the country with these evils rank* ling in its very core ? Sir, these manufacturers will be the ruin of the national character ! They will not leave materials for a line of poetry !" There was something in this In mentation over public improvements and national industry that amused me exceedingly ; but I find that the Squire really grieves over the growing spirit of trade as destroying the charm of life. He con siders every new short-hand mode of doing things 36 ENGLISH GRAVITY. as an inroad of snug sordid method ; and thinks that this will soon become a mere matter-of- fact world, where life will be reduced to a ma thematical calculation of conveniences, and every thing will be done by steam. He maintains, also, that the nation has de clined in its free and joyous spirit, in proportion as it has turned its attention to commerce and manufactures ; and that in old times, when Eng land was an idler, it was also a merrier little island. Indeed, the old gentleman adduces a number of authorities, that in some measure bear him out in his notions. If we may judge from the frequency and extravagance of ancient festivals and merry-makings, and the hearty spirit with which they were kept up by all classes of peo ple, the English were a much gayer people than at present. Stow, in his survey of London, gives us many animating pictures of the revels on holydays, at the inns of court, and the mummeries, rnasqu- ings, and bonfires about the streets. London then ENGLISH GRAVITY. 37 resembled the continental cities in its manners and amusements. The court used to dance after dinner on pub lic occasions. After the coronation dinner of Richard II. the king, the prelates, the nobles, the knights, and the rest of the company, danced in Westminster Hall to the music of the min strels. The example of the court was followed by the middling classes, who spent much of the time in dancing. Stow gives us a gay city picture, that resem bles the lively groups one may often see in Pa ris ; for he tells us, that on holydays, after evening prayers, the maidens used to assemble before the door, in sight of their masters and dames, and while one played on a timbrel, the others would dance for garlands hanged athwart the street. Of the gayety that prevailed in dress through out all ranks of society, we have abundant testi mony in the rich and fanciful costumes preserved in books and paintings. " I have myself," says 38 ENGLISH GRAVITY. Gervaise Markham, " met an ordinary tapster in his silk stockins, garters deepe fringed vvith gold lace, the rest of his apparell suitable, with cloake lined with velvet." Nashe, too, who wrote in 1593, exclaims at the folly and finery of the nation. " England, the players' stage of gorgeous attyre, the ape of all nations' superflui ties, the continual masquer in outlandish habili ments." These and many such authorities are quoted by the Squire, by way of contrasting the former spirit and vivacity of the nation with its present monotonous habits and appearance. "John Bull," he will say, " was then a gay cavalier, with a feather in his cap and a sword by his side ; but he is now a plodding citizen, in snuff colour ed coat and gaiters." But what in fact has caused such a decline of gayety in the national character, that the country has almost lost all right to its favourite old title of " Merry England ?" It may be at tributed in part to the growing hardships of the times, and the necessity of turning the whole at- ENGLISH GRAVITY. 39 tention to the means of subsistence; but Eng land's gayest customs prevailed at times when her common people enjoyed comparatively few of the comforts and conveniences that they do at present. It may be still more attributed to the universal spirit of gain, and the calculating habits of business that commerce has introduced ; but I am inclined to attribute it chiefly to the gradual increase of the liberty of the subject, arid the general freedom and activity of opinion. A free people are apt to be grave and thought ful. They have high and important matters to occupy their thoughts. They feel it is their right, their interest, and their duty, to mingle in public concerns, and to watch over the general welfare. The continual exercise of the mind on politi cal topics gives intenser habits of thinking, and a more serious and earnest demeanour. A na tion becomes less gay, but more intellectually active and vigorous. It evinces less play of the fancy, but more power of the imagination ; less taste and elegance, but more grandeur of 40 ENGLISH GRAVITY. mind ; less animated vivacity, but deeper en thusiasm. If is when men are shut out of the regions of manly thought, by a despotic government ; when every grave and lofty theme is rendered perilous to discussion and almost to reflection ; it is then that they turn to the safer occupations of taste and amusement, trifles rise to importance, and occupy the craving activity of intellect. No being is more void of care and reflection than the slave ; none dances more gayly in his intervals of labour; but make him free, give him rights and interests to guard, and he be comes thoughtful and laborious. The French are a gayer people than the Eng lish. Why ? Partly from temperament perhaps ; but greatly because they have been accustomed to governments which surrounded the free exer cise of thought with danger, and where he only was safe who shut his eyes and ears to public events, and enjoyed the passing pleasure of tfie day. Within late years they have had more op portunities of exercising their minds, and within ENGLISH GRAVITY. 41 late years the national character has essentially changed. Never did the French enjoy such a degree of freedom as they do at this moment ; and at this moment the French are comparatively a grave people. VOL. II. GIPSIES. What's that to absolute freedom ; such as the very beggars have , to feast and revel here to day, and yonder to-morrow ; next day where they please, and so on still, the whole country or kingdom over ? There's liberty ! the birds of the air can take no more. JOVIAL CREW. SINCE the rencontre with the gipsies, which I have related in a former paper, I have observed several of them haunting the purlieus of the Hall, in spite of a positive interdiction of the Squire's. They are part of a gang that has long kept about this neighbourhood, to the great annoyance of the farmers ; whose poultry yards often suffer from their nocturnal invasions. They are, however, in some measujre patronized by the Squire, who considers the race as belonging to the " good old times," which, to confess the private truth, seem to have abounded with good for nothing characters. GIPSIES. 43 This roving crew is called " Star-light Tom's gang," from the name of its chieftain, a noto rious poacher. I have heard repeatedly of the misdeeds of this " minion of the moon ;" for every midnight depredation that takes place in park, or fold, or farm yard, is laid to his charge. Star-light Tom in fact answers to his name ; he seems to walk in darkness, and like a fox, to be traced in the mornings by the mischief he has done. He reminds me of that fearful person age in the nursery rhyme : Who goes round the house at night ? None but bloody Tom ! Who steals all the sheep at night ? None, but one by one ! In short, Star-light Tom is the scape-goat of the neighbourhood ; but as cunning and adroit that there is no detecting him. Old Christy and the gamekeeper have watched many a night in hopes of entrapping him ; and Christy often patrols the park with his dogs, for the purpose, but all in vain. It is said that the Squire winks hard at his misdeeds, having an indulgent feel- 44 GIPSIES. irig toward the vagabond, because of his being very expert at all kinds of games, a great shot with the cross bow, and the best morrice dancer in the country. The Squire also suffers the gang to lurk un molested about the skirts of his estate, on condi tion that they do not come about the house. The approaching wedding, however, has made a kind of saturnalia at the Hall, and has caused a sus pension of all sober rule. It has produced a great sensation throughout the female part of the household ; not a housemaid but dreams of wed ding favours, and has a husband running in her head. Such a time is a harvest for the gipsies. There is a public footpath leading across one part of the park, by which they have free ingress ; and they are continually hovering about the grounds, telling the servant girls' fortunes, or getting smuggled in to the young ladies. I believe the Oxonian amuses himself very much by furnishing them with hints in private, and bewildering all the weak brains in the house with their wonderful revelations. The general GIPSIES. 45 certainly was very much astonished by the com munications made to him the other evening by the gipsy girl ; he kept a wary silence towards us on the subject, and affected to treat it lightly ; but I have noticed that he has since redoubled his attentions to Lady Lillycraft and her dogs. I have seen, also, Phoebe Wilkins, the house keeper's pretty and love-sick niece, holding a long conference with one of these old sybils be hind a large tree in the avenue, and often look ing round to see that she w r as not observed. I make no doubt that she was endeavouring to get some favourable augury about the result of her love quarrel with young Ready-Money, as ora cles have always been more consulted on love affairs than upon any thing else. I fear, how ever, that in this instance the response was not as favourable as usual, for I perceived poor Phoebe returning pensively towards the house, her head hanging down, her hat in her hand, and the ribband trailing along the ground. At another time, as I turned a corner of a terrace, at the bottom of the garden, just by a 46 GIPSIES. clump of trees and a large stone urn, 1 came upon a bevy of the young girls of the family, attended by this same Phoebe Wilkins. I was at a loss to comprehend the meaning of their blushing and giggling, and their apparent agita tion, until I saw the red cloak of a gipsy va nishing among the shrubbery. A few moments after I caught sight of Master Simon and the Oxonian stealing along one of the walks in the garden, chuckling and laughing at their success ful waggery, having evidently put the gipsy " up to the thing," and instructed her what to say. After all, there is something strangely pleas ing in these tamperings with the future, even where we are convinced of the fallacy of the prediction. It is singular how willingly the mind will half deceive itself, and with wh'at a degree of awe we will listen to these babblers about futurity. For my part I cannot feel angry with those poor vagabonds, that seek to deceive us into bright hopes and expectations. I have always been something of a castle builder, and GIPSIES. 47 have found my liveliest pleasures arising from the illusions which fancy has cast over common placed realities. As I get on in life, I find it more difficult to deceive myself in this delight ful manner ; and 1 should be thankful to any prophet, however false, that should conjure the clouds which hang over futurity into palaces, and all its doubtful regions into fairy land. The Squire, who, as I have observed, has a private good will toward gipsies, has suffered considerable annoyance on their account. Not that they requite his indulgence with ingratitude, for they do not depredate very flagrantly op his estate, but because their pilferings and mis deeds occasion loud murmurs in the village. For my own part, I have a great toleration for all kinds of vagrant, sunshiny existence, and must confess I take a pleasure in observing the ways of gipsies. The English, who are accus tomed to them from childhood, and often suffer from their petty depredations, consider them as mere nuisances ; but I have been very much struck with their peculiarities. I like to behold 48 GIPSIES. their clear olive complexions, their romantic black eyes, their raven locks, their lithe slen der figures, and to hear them, in low silver tones, dealing forth magnificent promises of honours and estates, of world's wealth, and ladies' love. Their mode of life, too, has something in it very fanciful and picturesque. They are the denizens of nature, and maintain a primitive independence in spite of law and gospel, of county gaols and country magistrates. It is cu rious to see this obstinate adherence to the wild unsettled habits of savage life transmitted from generation to generation, and preserved in the midst of one of the most cultivated, populous, and systematic countries in the world. They are totally distinct from the busy, thrifty people about them. They seem to 'be like Indians, either above or below the ordinary cares and anxieties of mankind. Heedless of power, of honour, of wealth ; and indifferent to the fluctu ations of the times, the rise or fall of grain, or stock, or empires ; they seem to laugh at the toil- GIPSIES. 49 ing, fretting world around them, and to live ac cording to the philosophy of the old song : Who would ambition shun And loves to lie i' the sun, Seeking the food he eats, And please with what he gets. Come hither, come hither, come hither, Here shall he see No enemy, But winter and rough weather. In this way they wander from county to county, keeping about the purlieus of villages, or in plenteous neighbourhoods, where there are fat farms and rich country seats. Their encamp ments are generally made in some beautiful spot ; either a green shady nook of a road, or on the border of a common, under a sheltering hedge, or on the skirts of a fine spreading wood. They are always to be found lurking about fairs and races, and rustic gatherings, wherever there is pleasure, and throng, and idleness. They are the oracles of milkmaids and simple serving girls ; and sometimes have even the honour of perusing the white hands of gentlemen's daugh- VOL. II. 7 50 GIPSIES. ters, when rambling about their father's grounds. They are the bane of good housewives and thrifty farmers, and odious in the eyes of coun try justices ; but, like all vagabond beings, they have something to commend them to the fancy. They are among the last traces, in these matter- of-fact days, of the motly population of former times ; and are whimsically associated in my mind with fairies and witches, Robin Good Fel low, Robin Hood, and the other fantastical per sonages of poetry. MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. Happy the age, and harmless were the dayes, (For then true love and amity was found) When every village did a May-pole raise, And Whitson-ales and May-games did abound ; And all the lusty yonkers, in a rout, With merry lasses dannc'd the rod about, Then friendship to their banquets bid the guests, And poore men fared the better for their feasts. Then lords of castles, mannors, townes, and towers, Rejoic'd when they beheld the farmers flourish, And would come downe unto the summer-bowers To see the country-gallants dance the Morrice. PASO,UIL'S PALINODIA. 1634. THE month of April has nearly passed away, and we are fast approaching that poetical day which was considered, in old times, as the boundary that parted the frontiers of winter and summer. With all its caprices, however, I like the month of April. I like these laughing and crying days, when sunshine and shade seem to run in billows over the landscape. I like to 52 MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. see the sudden shower coming over the meadows and giving all nature a greener smile, and the bright sunbeams chasing the flying cloud, and turning all its drops into diamonds. I was enjoying a morning of the kind in com pany with the Squire in one of the finest parts of the park. We were skirting a beautiful grove, and he was giving me a kind of biographical account of several of his favourite forest trees, when we heard the strokes of an axe from the midst of a thick copse. The Squire paused and listened, with manifest signs of uneasiness. He turned his steps in the direction of the sound. The strokes grew louder and louder as we advanced ; there was evidently a vigorous arm wielding the axe. The Squire quickened his pace, but in vain ; a loud crack and a succeeding crash told that the mischief had been done, and some child of the forest laid low. When we came to the place we found Master Simon and several others standing about a tall and beautifully straight young larch which had just been felled. MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. 53 The Squire, though a man of most harmo nious disposition, was completely put out of tune by this circumstance. He felt like a mon arch witnessing the murder of one of his liege subjects, and demanded, with some asperity, the meaning of the outrage. It turned out to be an affair of Master Simon's ; who had selected the tree, from its height and straightness, for a May pole ; the old one which stood on the village green being unfit for farther service. If any thing could have soothed the ire of my worthy host, it would have been the reflection that his tree had fallen in a good cause, and I saw that there was a great struggle between his fondness for his groves, and his devotion to May day. He could not contemplate the prostrate tree, however, without indulging in lamentation, and making a kind of funeral eulogy, and he forbad that any tree should thenceforward be cut down ort his estate without a warrant from himself; being determined, he said, to hold the sovereign power of life and death in his own hands. 54 MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. This mention of the May-pole struck my at tention, and I inquired whether the old customs connected with it were still kept up with any spirit in this part of the country. The Squire shook his head mournfully, and I found I had touched on one of his tender points, for he grew quite melancholy in bewailing the total decline of old May-day. Though it is re gularly celebrated in the neighbouring village, yet it has been merely resuscitated by his coun tenance, and is kept up in a forced state of ex istence at his expense. He meets^ with continual discouragements, and finds great difficulty in getting the country bumpkins to play their parts tolerably. He manages to have every year a " Queen of the May ;" but as to Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, the Dragon, the Hobby Horse, and all the other motly crew that used to enliven the day with their mummery, he has not ventured to introduce them. Still, I look forward with some interest to the promised shadow of old May-day, even though MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. 55 it be but a shadow ; and I feel more and more pleased with this whimsical, yet harmless hobby of my host, which is surrounding him with agree able associations, and making a little world of poetry about him. Brought up, as I have been, in a new country, I may appreciate too highly the faint vestiges of ancient customs which 1 now and then meet with ; and the interest I express in them may provoke a smile from those who are negligently suffering them to pass away. But with what ever indifference they may be regarded by those " to the manner born," yet, in my mind, the lingering flavour of them imparts a charm to rustic life, which nothing else could readily sup- I shall never forget the delight I felt on first seeing a May-pole. It was on the banks of the Dee, close by the picturesque old bridge, that stretches across that river from the quaint little city of Chester. 1 had already been carried back into former days by the antiquities of that venerable place, the examination of which is 56 MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. equal to turning over the pages of a black letter volume, or gazing on the pictures in Froissart. The May-pole on the margin of that poetic stream completed the illusion. My fancy adorn ed it with wreaths of flowers, and peopled the green bank with all the dancing revelry of May day. The mere sight of the May-pole gave a glow to my feelings, and spread a charm over the country for th$ rest of the day ; and as I traversed a part of the fair plain of Cheshire, and the beautiful borders of Wales, and looked from among swelling hills down a long green valley, through which " the Deva wound its wizard stream," my imagination turned all into a perfect Arcadia. Whether it be owing to such poetical associa tions, early instilled into my mind ; or whether there is, as it were, a sympathetic revival and budding forth of the feelings at this season, cer tain it is, that I always experience, wherever I may be placed, a delightful expansion of the heart at the return of May. It is said that birds about this time will become restless in their cages, as if MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. 57 instinct with the season, conscious of the revelry that is going on in the groves, and impatient to break from their bondage and join in the jubilee of the year. In like manner I have felt myself excited even in the midst of the metropolis, when the win dows which had been churlishly closed all win ter, were again thrown open to receive the balmy breath of May ; when the sweets of the coun try were breathed into the town, and flowers were cried about the streets. I have considered the treasure of flowers thus poured in, as so many missives from nature in viting us forth to enjoy the virgin beauty of the year, before its freshness is exhaled by the heats of sunny summer. y One can readily imagine what a gay scene it must have been in jolly old London, on a May day in former times, when the doors were deco rated with flowering branches ; when every hat was decked with hawthorn, and Robin Hood, Friar Tuck, Maid Marian, the morrice dancers, and all the other fantastic masks and revellers VOL. II. 8 58 MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. were performing their antics about the May-pole in every part of the city. I am not. a bigoted admirer of old times and old customs rrterely because of their antiquity. But while I rejoice in the decline of many of the rude usages and coarse amusements of for mer days, I cannot but regret that this innocent and fanciful festival has fallen into disuse. It seemed appropriate to this verdant and pastoral country, and calculated to light up the too per vading gravity of the nation. I value every custom that tends to infuse poetical feeling into the common people, and to sweeten and soften the rudeness- of rustic manners, without destroy ing their simplicity. Indeed, it is to the decline of this happy simplicity that the decline of this custom may be traced ; and the rural dance on the green, and the homely May-day pageant, have gradually disappeared, in proportion as the peasantry have become expensive and artificial in their pleasures, and too knowing for simple enjoyment. MAY-DAY CUSTOMS. 59 Some attempts, the Squire informs me, have been made of late years by men of both taste and learning, to rally back the popular feeling to these standards of primitive simplicity ; but the time has gone by ; the feeling has become chilled by habits of gain and traffick ; the coun try apes the manners and amusements of the town, and little is heard of May-day at present excepting from the lamentations of authors, who sigh after it from among the brick walls of the city. For 0, for 0, the Hobby Horse is forgot. - VILLAGE WORTHIES. Nay, I tell you, I am so well beloved in our town, that not the worst dog in the street will hurt my little finger. COLLIER OF CROYDON. As the neighbouring village is one of those out-of-the-way, but gossipping little places, where a small matter makes a great stir, it is not to be supposed that the approach of a festi val like that of May-day can be regarded with indifference; especially, since it is made a matter of such moment by the great folks at the Hall. Master Simon, who is the faithful factotum of the worthy Squire, and jumps with his humour in every thing, is frequent just now in his visits to the village, to give directions for the impend ing fete, and as I have taken the liberty oc casionally of accompanying him, I have been - VILLAGE WORTHIES. 61 enabled to get some insight into the characters and internal politics of this very sagacious little community. Master Simon is in fact the Caesar of the vil lage. It is true the Squire is the protecting power, but his factotum is the active and busy agent He intermeddles in all its concerns; is acquainted with all the inhabitants and their domestic history; gives counsel to the old folks in their business matters, and the young folks in their love affairs, and enjoys the proud satis faction of being a great mart in a little world. He is the dispenser too of the Squire's charity, which is bounteous; and, to do Master Simon justice, he performs this part of his functions with great alacrity. Indeed, I have been enter tained with the mixture of bustle, importance, and kind heartedness which he displays. He is of too vivacious a temperament to comfort the afflicted by sitting down moping and whi ning and blowing noses in concert, but goes whisking about, like a sparrow, chirping conso lation into every hole and corner of the village. 62 VILLAGE WORTHIES. I have seen an old woman, in a red cloak, hold him for half an hour together with some long phthisical tale of distress, to which Master Si mon listened, with many a bob of the head, smack of his whip, and other symptoms of im patience ; though he afterwards made a most faithful and circumstantial report of the case to the Squire. I have watched him, too, during one of his pop visits into the cottage of a super annuated villager, who is a pensioner of the Squire's ; where he fidgetted about the room without sitting down ; made many excellent off hand reflections, with the old invalid, who was propped up in his chair, about the shortness of life, the certainty of death, and the necessity of " preparing for that awful change ;" quoted several texts of scripture very incorrectly, but much to the edification of the cottager's wife ; and on coming out pinched the daughter's rosy cheek, and wondered what was in the young men that such a pretty face did not get a hus band. VILLAGE WORTHIES. 63 He has, also, his cabinet councillors in the village, with whom he is very busy just now, preparing for the May-day ceremonies. Among these is the village tailor, a pale-faced fellow, that plays the clarionet in the church choir, and being a great musical genius, has frequent meetings of the band at his house, where they " make night hideous" by their concerts. He is, in conse quence, high in favour with Master Simon ; and through his influence has the making, or rather marring, of all the liveries of the Hall, which ge nerally look as though they had been cut out by one of those scientific tailors of the Flying Island of Laputa, who took measure of their customers with a quadrant. The tailor, in fact, might rise to be one of the monied men of the village, if he were not rather too prone to gossip, and keep holydays, and give concerts, and blow all his substance, real and personal, through his cla rionet ; which literally keeps him poor both in body and estate. He has for the present thrown by all his regular work, and suffered the breeches of the village to go unmade and unmended, 64 VILLAGE WORTHIES. while he is occupied in making garlands of parti coloured rags, in imitation of flowers, for the decoration of the May -pole. Another of Master Simon's councillors is the apothecary, a short, and rather fat man, with a pair of prominent eyes that diverge like those of a lobster. He is the village wise man ; very sententious, and full of profound remarks on shallow subjects. Master Simon often quotes his sayings, and mentions him as rather an extra ordinary man ; and even consults him occasion ally in desperate cases of the dogs and horses. Indeed, he seems to have been overwhelmed by the apothecary's philosophy, which is exactly one observation deep, consisting of indisputable maxims, such as may be gathered from the mot toes of tobacco boxes. I had a specimen of his philosophy in my very first conversation with him ; in the course of which, he observed, with great solemnity and emphasis, that " man is a compound of wisdom and folly ;" upon which Master Simon, who had hold of my arm, press ed very hard upon it, and whispered in my ear, " that's a devilish shrewd remark !" THE SCHOOLMASTER. There will no mosse stick to the stone of Sisiphus, no grasse hang on the heeles of Mercury, no butter cleave on the bread of a travel ler. For as the. eagle at every flight loseth a feather, which maketh her bauld in her age, so the traveller in every country loseth some fleece, which maketh him a beggar in his youth, by buying that for a pound which he cannot sell again for a penny repentance. LILLY'S EUPHUES. AMONG the worthies of the village that enjoy the peculiar confidence of Master Simon, is one who has struck my fancy so much, that I have thought him worthy of a separate notice. It is Slingsby, the schoolmaster ; a thin elderly man, rather threadbare and slovenly ; somewhat indo lent in manner, and with an easy good humoured look, not often met with in his craft. I have been interested in his favour by a few anecdotes which I have picked up concerning him. He is a native of the village, and was a con- VOL. II. 9 66 THE SCHOOLMASTER. temporary and playmate of Ready Money Jack's, in the days of their boyhood. Indeed, they car ried on a kind of league of mutual good offices. Slingsby was rather puny, and withall somewhat of a coward ; but very apt at his learning : Jack, on the contrary, was a bullyboy out of doors, but a sad laggard at his books. Slingsby helped Jack therefore to all his lessons, and Jack fought all Slingsby's battles, and they were inseparable friends. This mutual kindness continued even after they left the school, notwithstanding the dissimilarity of their characters. Jack took to ploughing and reaping, and prepared himself to till his paternal acres ; while the other loitered negligently on in the path of learning, until he penetrated even into the confines of Latin and mathemathics. In an unlucky hour, however, he took to reading voyages and travels, and was smitten with a desire to see the world. This desire increased upon him as he grew up. So, early one bright sunny morning, he put all his effects in a knapsack, slung it on his back, took staff in hand, and called in his way to take leave THE SCHOOLMASTER. 67 of his early schoolmate. Jack was just going out with the plough ; the friends shook hands over the farm house gate ; Jack drove his team a-field, and Slingsby whistled " over the hills and far away," and sallied forth gayly to " seek his fortune." Years and years passed by, and young Tom Slingsby was forgotten ; when, one mellow Sun day afternoon in autumn, a thin man, somewhat advanced in life, with a coat out at elbows, a pair of old nankeen gaiters, and a few things tied in a handkerchief and slung on the end of a stick, was seen loitering through the village. He appeared to regard several houses atten tively, to peer into the windows that were open, to eye the villagers wistfully as they returned from church, and then to pass some time in the church-yard reading the tomb-stones. At length he found his way to the farm house of Ready Money Jack, but paused ere he at tempted the wicket ; contemplating the picture of substantial independence before him. In the porch of the house sat Ready Money Jack, 68 THE SCHOOLMASTER. ( in his Sunday dress ; with his hat upon his head, his pipe in his mouth, and his tankard before him, the " monarch of all he surveyed." Beside him lay his fat house dog. The varied sounds of poultry were heard from the well stocked farm yard, the bees hummed from their hives in the garden, the cattle lowed in the rich meadow ; while the crammed barns and ample stacks bore proof of an abundant harvest. The stranger opened the gate and advanced dubiously toward the house. The mastiff growl ed at the sight of him, but was immediately silenced by his master ; who, taking his pipe from his mouth, awaited with inquiring aspect the address of this equivocal personage. The stranger eyed old Jack for a moment, so portly in his dimensions, and decked out in gorgeous apparel ; then cast a glance upon his own thread bare and starveling condition and the scanty bundle which he held in his hand ; then giving his shrunk waistcoat a twitch to make it meet his receding waistband, and casting another look, half sad, half humorous, at the sturdy THE SCHOOLMASTER. 69. yeoman. " I suppose," said he, " Mr. Tibbets, you have forgot old times and old playmates." The latter gazed at him with scrutinizing look, but acknowledged that he had no recol lection of him. ^4^1 " Like enough, like enough," said the stranger, " every body seems to have forgotten poor Slingsby." " Why no, sure ! it can't be Tom Slingsby !" " Yes, but it is, though," replied the other, shaking his head. Ready Money Jack was on his feet in a twinkling ; thrust out his hand ; gave his ancient crony the gripe of a giant, and slapping the other hand on a bench, " sit down there," cried he, " Tom Slingsby !" A long conversation ensued about old times, while Slingsby was regaled with the best cheer that the farm house afforded ; for he was hungry as well as wayworn, and had the keen appetite of a poor pedestrian. The early playmates then talked over their lives and adventures. Jack had but little to relate, and was never good 70 THE SCHOOLMASTER. at a long story. A prosperous life, passed at home, has little incident for narration ; it is only poor devils that are tossed about the world that are the true heroes of story. Jack had stuck by the paternal farm ; followed tfce same plough that his forefathers had driven, and had waxed richer and richer as he grew older. As to Tom Slings- by, he was an exemplification of the old proverb, " a rolling stone gathers no moss." He had sought his fortune about the world without ever finding it, ; being a thing oftener found at home than abroad. He had been in all kinds of situa tions ; had learnt a dozen different modes of ma king a living ; but had found his way back to his native village rather poorer than when he left it ; his knapsack having dwindled down into a scanty bundle. As luck would have it, the Squire was pass ing by the farm house that very evening, and called there as is often his custom. He found the two schoolmates still gossiping in the porch, and, according to the good old Scottish song, " taking a cup of kindness yet for auld Jang THE SCHOOLMASTER. 71 syne." The Squire was struck by the con trast in appearance and fortunes of these early playmates. Ready Money Jack, seated in lord ly state, surrounded by the good things of this life, with golden guineas hanging to his very watch chain, and the poor pilgrim, Slingsby, thin as a weazel, with all his worldly effects his bundle, hat, and walking staff, lying on the ground beside him. The good Squire's heart warmed towards the cosmopolite ; for he is a little prone to like such half vagrant kind of characters. He cast about in his mind how he should contrive once more to anchor Slingsby in his native village. Honest Jack had already offered him a present shelter under his roof, in spite of the hints, and winks, and half remonstrances of the shrewd Dame Tib- bets ; but how to provide for his permanent maintenance, was the question. Luckily the Squire bethought himself that the village school was without a teacher. A little farther con versation convinced him that Slingsby was as fit for that as for any thing else ; and 72 THE SCHOOLMASTER. in a day or two he was seen swaying the rod of empire in the very school-house where he had often been horsed in the days of his boyhood. Here he has remained for several years, and being honoured by the countenance of the Squire, and the fast friendship .of Mr. Tibbets, he has grown into much importance and consideration in the village. I am v told, however, that he still shows, now and then, a degree of restlessness, and a disposition to rove abroad again and see a little more of the world ; an inclination which seems particularly to haunt him about spring time. There is nothing so difficult to conquer as the vagrant humour, when once it has been fully indulged. Since I have heard these anecdotes of poor Slingsby, I have more than once mused upon the picture presented by him and his schoolmate, Ready Money Jack, on their coming together again after so long a separation. It is difficult to determine between lots in life, where each is attended with its peculiar discontents. He who #ever leaves his home repines at his monotonous THE SCHOOLMASTER. 73 existence, and envies the traveller whose life is a constant tissue of wonder and adventure ; while he who is tossed about the world looks back with many a sigh on the safe and quiet shore which he has abandoned. I cannot help thinking, however, that the man that stays at home and cultivates the comforts and pleasures daily spring ing up around him, stands the best chance for happiness. There is nothing so fascinating to a young 'mind as the idea of travelling, and there is very witchcraft in the old phrase found in every nursery tale, of " going to seek one's for tune." A continual change of place and change of object promises a continual succession of ad venture and gratification of curiosity. But there is a limit to all our enjoyments, and every de sire bears its death in its very gratification. Cu riosity languishes under repeated stimulants; novelties cease to excite surprise, until at length we cannot wonder even at a miracle. He who has sallied forth into the world like poor Slings- by, full of sunny anticipations, finds too soon how different the distant scene becomes when VOL. II. 10 74 THE SCHOOLMASTER. visited. The smooth place roughens as he ap proaches ; the wild place becomes tame and bar ren ; the fairy tints that beguiled him on, still fly to the distant hill, or gather upon the land he has left behind, and every part of the landscape is greener than the spot he stands on. THE SCHOOL. But to come down from great men and higher matters to my little children and poor school house again ; I will, God willing, go for ward orderly, as I purposed to instruct children and young men both for learning and manners. ROGER ASCHAM. HAVING given the reader a slight sketch of the village schoolmaster, he may be curious to learn something concerning his school. As the Squire takes much interest in the'education of the neighbouring children, he put into the hands of the teacher, on first installing him in office, a copy of Roger Ascham's Schoolmaster; and advised him, moreover, to con over that portion of old Peacham which treats of the duty of masters, and which condemns the favourite method of making boys wise by flagellation. He exhorted Slingsby not to break down or 76 THE SCHOOL. depress the free spirit of the boys by harshness and slavish fear, but to lead them freely and joyously on in the path of knowledge, making it pleasant and desirable in their eyes. He wished to see the youth trained up in the man ners and habitudes of the peasantry of the good old times; and thus to lay a foundation for the accomplishment of his favourite object, the re vival of old English customs and character. He recommended that all the ancient holydays should be observed ; and that the sports of the boys in their hours of play should be regulated according to the standard authorities laid down in Strutt, a copy of whose invaluable work, decorated with plates, was deposited in the school house. Above all, he exhorted the peda gogue to abstain from the use of birch, an in strument of instruction which the good Squire regards with abhorrence, as fit only for the coercion of brute natures, that cannot be rea soned with. Mr. Slingsby has followed the Squire's in structions to the best of his disposition and abi- THE SCHOOL. 77 lities. He never flogs the boys, because he is too easy, good-humoured a creature to inflict pain on a worm. He is bountiful in holydays, be cause he loves holydays himself, and has a sym pathy with the urchins' impatience of confine ment, from having divers times experienced its irksomeness during the time that he was seeing the world. As to sports and pastimes, the boys are faith fully exercised in all that are on record : quoits, races, prison bars, tip-cat, trap-ball, bandy-ball, wrestling, leaping, and what not. The only misfortune is, that having banished the birch, honest Slingsby has not studied Roger Ascham sufficiently to find out a substitute ; or rather he has not the management in his nature to apply one. His school, therefore, though one of the happiest, is one of the most unruly in the coun try ; and never was a pedagogue more liked, or less heeded by his disciples, than Slingsby. He has lately taken a coadjutor worthy of himself, being another stray sheep that has re turned to the village fold. This is no other than 78 THE SCHOOL. the son of the musical tailor, who had bestowed some cost upon his education, hoping to see him one day arrive at the dignity of an exciseman, or at least of a parish clerk. The lad grew up, however, as idle and musical as his father ; and being captivated by the drum and fife of a re cruiting party, he followed them off to the army. He returned not long since, out of money and out at the elbows, the prodigal son of the vil lage. He remained for some time lounging about the place in a half tattered soldier's dress, with a foraging cap on one side of his head, jerking stones across the brook, or loitering about the tavern door, a burthen to his father, and re garded with great coldness by all the warm householders. Something, however, drew honest Slingsby towards the youth. It might be the kindness he bore to his father, who is one of the school master's great cronies ; it might be that secret sympathy which draws men of vagrant propen sities towards each other, for there is something truly magnetic in the vagabond feeling; or it THE SCHOOL, 79 might be that he remembered the time when he himself had come back like this youngster, a wreck to his native place. At any rate, what ever the motive, Slingsby drew towards the youth. They had many conversations in the village tap-room about foreign parts, and the various scenes and places they had witnessed during their way-faring about the world. The more Slingsby talked with him the more he found him to his taste, and finding him almost as learned as himself, he forthwith engaged him as an assistant or usher in the school. Under such admirable tuition the school, as may be supposed, flourishes apace; and, if the scholars do not become versed in all the holyday accomplishments of the good old times to the Squire's heart's content, it will not be the fault of their teachers. The prodigal son has become almost as popular among the boys as the peda gogue himself. His instructions are not limited to the school hours ; and, having inherited the musical taste and talents of his father, he has bitten the whole school with the mania. He SO THE SCHOOL. is a great hand at beating a drum, which is often heard rumbling from the rear of the school house. He is teaching half the boys of the village, also, to play the fife and the pandean pipes, and they weary the whole neighbourhood with their vague pipings, as they sit perched on stiles, or loitering about the barn doors in the evenings. Among the other exercises of the school, also, he has introduced the ancient art of archery, (one of the Squire's favourite themes,) with such success, that the whipsters roam in truant bands about the neighbourhood, practising with their bows and arrows upon the birds of the air and the beasts of the field. In a word, so com pletely are the ancient English customs and ha bits cultivated at this school, that I should not be surprised if the Squire should live to see one of his poetic visions realized, and a brood reared up, worthy successors to Robin Hood and his merry gang of outlaws. POPULAR SUPERSTITIONS. Farewell Rewards and Fairies, Good housewives now may say ; For now fowle sluts in Dairies Do fare as well as they : And though they sweepe their hearth's no lesse Than maids were wont to doe, Yet who of late for cleanlinesse Finds six pence in her shooe ? BISHOP COKJBET, I HAVE mentioned the Squire's fondness for the marvellous, and