I TT+fE §r te Ak' ll M -f^p i -i '^4.^sR^ THE LIBRARY OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LOS ANGELES I / ' ' Jj£. h£~^A a e t i l> ' i t A.MARYLLIS VI THE PAIR AMAEYLLIS AT THE PAIB a j'^oiui RICHARD JEFFERU - ■ i LONDO N SAMPSON LOW, MAESTON, SBABLE, & RIVTNGTON CROWS Bl II-l >: 8, 188, FL P STREET .1 CHISWICK PRESS:— C. WHITTINGHAM AND CO., TOOKS C CHANCERY LANE. Drtiratrt) C li a i: i. i; - r 1; ES rwICH SCO! r R£S£ • - I : 1 ! ' AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. (Haiti:!: i. MAIM' i.i.i- in flowi immediately ran I : it. Tl. v. liki> I I ' .-. I hav< that very bosh. Tl — tlu- • out of life, [nstinctiyi I look uiiii but thej aot bo be found. The dr rics of uld be call' : fries in a] mce and i -are innocent of such roses. . an act what they call ro^es growing out of dir; adly things with a knob on the top, B 2 AMARYLLIS AT THE FA in. which even dew can hardly sweeten. " No call for damask roses — wouldn't pay to grow th< Single they was, I thinks. No good. Th< cut every morning and fetched by the flower-gi for gents' button-holes and ladies' jack< 5Tou won't get no damask roses; they be died oir I think in despite of the nurseryman, or tery-keeper, that with patience I could gel a damask rose even now by inquiring about from farmhouse to farmhouse. In time some old fani with a good old taste for old roses and pin would send me one; I have half a mind to try. But, alas ! it is no use, I have nowhere to put it ; I rent a house which is built in first-rate modern style, though small, of course, and there is " garden " to it, but no place to put ;i damask r No place, because it is not "home," and J i plant except round "home." The plot or "patch " the landlord calls "the garden" — it i> aboul wide as the border round a patch, old >t vie — is quite vacant, bare, and contains nothing 1 »ut mould. It is nothing to me, and I cannot plant it. Not only are there no damask roses, but t! is no place for them now-a-days, no "home," only villas and rented houses. Anything rented in a town can never be "home." Farms that were practically taken on a hun 1 to think of the oentnry, bnt ran round the corner of the house, and ca with the «ast wind, which took with guch t<> momentarily stay her pro- Ber sk wn <»ut horizontally, her an' of her aha] ginning to bnd like Bpring was sketohed rinst the red brick wall. She 1 I, bnt tin- lied her throat as if ■ hand had 1 thrust down it ; the wind go< its edge like ■ knife under her eyelids, d them and • -balls, and Beamed as if it would . out ; her wet with involuntary I : her lips lined up and parched in a moment. The wind t through her thick stockings as if the wool - nothing. She lifted her hand t>> defend I ad the skin of her arm became " goos< direetlv. Had she worn hat or bonnet it would have Sown. Stooping forwards, she pushed step by step, and gradually reached the shelter of the high garden wall ; there she could stand upright, and breathe again. Her lips, which had been whitened by the keen blast, as if a storm of ice particles had been driven 4 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. against them, now resumed their Bcarlet, but ber ears were full of dust and reddened, and her curly dark hair was dry and rough and without gloss.' Each separate hair separated itself from the Q< and would not lie smooth — the natural unctuous essence which usually caused them to adhere dried up. The wind had blown thus round thai con every March for a century, and in no d abated its bitter force because a beautiful human child, full of the happiness of a flower, c lessly into its power. Nothing i least consideration for human creatun . The moss on the ridge of the wall under wl she stood to breathe look* <1 shrivelled and thin, the green tint dried out of it. A aparrow with ;i straw tried hard to reach tin of tin t" put it in his nest, but the depending Btraw . caught by the breeze as a sail, ami 1 him past. Under the wall was a large patch recently n the path a wheelbarrow. A man was busy putting in potatoes; he wore the n lest coat ever seen on a respectable back. A- the wind lifted the tails it was apparent that the lining was loose and only hung by threads, the cuffs were worn through, there was a hole beneath each arm, and on each shoulder the nap of the cloth was gone ; the colour, which had once been grey, was now a mixture of several soils and numerous kinds of grit. The hat AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR 5 In- had "ii w.is ii" better ; it might hare been m of some hard pasteboard, it was so ban Ev d iw and then the wind brought a few handfnls of dust over the wall from the road, and dropped it on hii • k. The way in which 1 anting potatoes wonderfal . . potat ■ ■ cactly right diet mci aid a hole made for it in the ■ :h | before it I I a looked at and turned over, and the thumb rubbed against it I that . ud when finally put in, delicately adjusted round to !> it in its right position till the whole r buried. 1 1 • c ui ■ I I '.• potal in hi> c , that is, for the row — and took t'. out "in- I ; had li" been planting hi ^ own children li" could not have been more careful. The science, the skill, and tl this p planting you would hardly credit; ■ill this waa founded upon observation, and arose from very large abilities on the part of planter, though dire. -ted to <■> humble :i purpose at that moment. 5 soon as Amaryllis had recovered breath, ran down th< - path and stood by the wheel- row, but although her shadow fell across the potato row, he would not see her. " Pa/' she said, not very loud. u Pa/' growing bolder. " Do come — there's a daffodil out, the very, very first." " Oh," a sound like a growl — "oh," from the G AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. depth of a vast chest heaving out a doubtful note. " It is such a beautiful colour ! '' " Where is your mother ': " looking at her askance and still stooping. " Indoors — at least — I think — no " "Haven't you got no Bewing ': Can't yon help her ? What good be you on ': M "But this is such a lovely daffodil, ami the very first — now do come ! " "Flowers bean't no use on; Bach tramperj that ; what do'ee want about thaay ? You'll nerer be d d ain't never got a apron on." " But — just a minute now." " Go on in, and be Bome ose on." Amaryllis' lip fell j she turned and walk- >1 slowly away along the path, her head drooping I 1. Did ever anyone have a beautiful idea or feeling without being repulsed ' She had not reached the end of the path, ] . ever, when the father began to chan attitu he stood up, dropped his "dibbler/' Bcraped hia foot on his spade, and, grumbling t i himself, v. after her. She did not see or hear him till ho overtook her. " Please, I'll go and do the sewing," she said. " Where bo this yer flower t" gruffly. " I'll show you," taking his ragged arm, and brightening up immediately. " Only think, to open in all this wind, and so cold — isn't it beau- I UARYLLIS AT THE F Mlt. : tiful ': It's much more beautiful than the flon that come in the summer." " Trumpery rubbish — mean to nob idy, thaay thengs. X . in you, like ■ )\ I " Bat it's • . ' and Amaryllis L on 1 ad lifted ap the • ■• \ ■ id [den, putting bia chin, a ha thinking, and nly quil :iiiL r 1 ... t j 10 '.k and la: " Ah, yes; dil v. 1 1 • ■ -• " Richard ':" bed !•: llis, how ! intellectual I 1, wain; uiind from ' :• as larrelled how h< md why he talked lik< labour and w coal — of wisdom in his other m< -lit, and indeed acted ae " Bichard'a favourite flower," ! at on. "He brought the rn from Luckett'a ; i very one in I -den came from there. Be was alw:: uling poetry, and writing -ketehing, 8 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. and yet he was such a capital man of bu>: one could understand that. He built the mill, and saved heaps of money ; he bought back the place at Luckett'-. which beloi to us Queen Elizabeth's days; indeed, he very nearly made up the fortunes Nicholas and tl. them got rid of. He was, indeed, a man. A now it is all going again — faster than he m He used to take you on his knee and Bay you walk well, becau-'' yon had a good ank Amaryllis blushed and smoothed her dress with her hands, as if that would lengthen the skirt hide the ankles which Riohard, the ^reat-un had admired when she was a child. 1 | but which her feminine acquaintan were heavy. "Here, put on your hat foolish of you to go out in this wind with :i !" Mrs. Iden, coming out. She thrust them U Amaryllis' unwilling ha: i ind< again immediately. " He was the only one of all t: on- tinued her father, " who could mak all the rest could do nothing but spend it. For generations he was the only money-m saver, and yet he was as free and lil Very curious, wasn't it ? — only one in ten tions — difficult to understand why none of I others — why " He paused, thinking. Amaryllis, too, was silent, thinking — thinking how easily her papa could make mon UARYLLI& AT THE I AIR. tps of S 1 it' he tried, • . 1 1 1 i r i _- '■ I •' Richard n ap like him ! " said I<: Thi had on family, and that, too, in ■ . prodn but one < in th< -, or unless * 1 Dytbin shad with i had I :iity v. Cha] D — inn to overtop 1 . I ike 1 Portal that it ha- 1- point i- thi which ! :ily. ' hard was the Peter the Great of his family, wl by his Bn - PB. " I wonder win uy of us will ever turn out like Richard/' continued Jden. "No one could deny him Long ; i a way of | ding and convincing- people, and alwa;. _ I his own will in 10 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. the end. Wonderful man ! v hepon I . returning towards his work. Suddenly the side door i I, and Mrs. I just peered out, and cried, " Put your hat and - on directly." Amaryllis put the hat on, and wound the b very loosely about hei k. >!.■ her father to the potato patch, hoping t' would go on talking, but h< .uickly absor in the potatoes. She watched him back was an arch ; in fact, he had si that now he could not Btand u: ;h -till in the prime of life; it" heal himself, still his back was bowed a1 the Bhouldi He worked so hard — ever sin< she had seen him working life • in the rnornimr while it wi cattle; sometimes he was np all night with th< wind or weather made no diff< stopped indoors if it rained much, but it no difference to her father, i. 1 the d the sharp frosts. Alv - A worl talk so cleverly, too, and km they were so Bhort of money. How could thifl I "What a fallacy it is that hard work is the I of money ; I could show you plenty of men who have worked the whole of their 1 could possibly be, and who are still as far off ii. pendence as when they began. In fact, that is the rule; the winning of independence is rarely I -ult of work, else nine out of ten would be well-to-do. i ii \rn:i: n v i£ : *'. UESEXTLY 1 in- rr. " Wl •• 1 1 d to him. He will n ■ Tell the ■ ■ all this tii .1111- I ' I - his tim- wild ' Why '. c-.itt K-, and km a that Not he! he'd rath< r muddle with . as if ii Btuok in tlic ground." Not liki: her father lis ad wl skirt and looked at the anklee which great-uncle Oth I told her they were thick, and >he ? of them. Instead slender things which seem as it* a 12 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. sudden strain would snap them, and are noth but mere bone, she had a pair of well-sha] ankles, justly proportioned to whal would soou a fine form; strong, but neither thick, n< nor heavy, ankles that •■ carry her man. mile without, weariness, that ended good Legs with plenty of flesh on them. The stupidi: tailing such coarse or heavy! They W dly id- ankles, such as a sculptor w o ill-instructed ailed them c H their fault, it was the lack of in did not know what was physically p they could not r rize it. Let every girl who hafl Bach ank them, for they will | : to her I whole of her Lil Amaryllis could n I jh she brushed ifcfoi it WOB so much had thi wind dried it. a drawer, and took oui B litl and held it in her hand. probabilil Would her father see it if sh< I it, or mighl perhaps, fail to notice ': Bl the bottle on the dressing I it' he had chan to pass through the rooi inly fa thrown it out of window, so bitter was hi gonism to all oils and perfumes, scents, other resources of the hairdresser, whioh he ! defiled the hair and ruined it, to the deception of woman and the disgust of man. N I ne drop of scent did Amaryllis dare to sprinkle on her hand- AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 1 I oil did the dare put on lutiful hair unleea rarreptitionfilyj ami t ■he be wae certain I detect it and with withering Batii . 5Tetj h< ■■■■• :tli in famei and oila and bo forth ii like ■ ■ - ri* I ul-. ich splendid hair no d noth:: bly improve it, • .■ 1 would injun — et in hei I to nil • it with «'il. r ; Bhe aftern f those t home to II . It uu«i ■ but at (lunar the law v. a~k t" r anvil. much . mu. must . the Tl. -*. infrii with B and brilliant bhi' —then • blue i wh( ut, aud f-at rigidly upright for a moment. For 14 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. he usually stooped, and to sit upright shot annoyance. No laws of the Medee and Persi ■were ever obeyed as was this law of Bilence in that house. Anything that disturbed the absolate calm < >f tin- dinner hour was worso than s •>■ ; anyth that threatened to disturb it was* atly by that repressive eye. No one mnsl in Of go out of the room; if anyone knocked door (their are no bells in old country 1 there wasa frown ininii'diatfly, it i ono answering it. and then Kirs, [den or Amaryllis had to leave the table, to go out ai D and shut the sitting-room door as the; at, and as they returned. Amaryll: I a knock at the door, it was bo awful to havi had sat down to dinner, and the servant W not to know what reply to happened — and this was very terrible — that master himself had to go, some one 1 him about some hay or a horse and cart, and no • could tell what to do but the master. A dim broken up in this way was a \ indeed. That day they had a leg of mutton — a spi occasion — a joint to be looked on reverentlv. Mr. Iden had walked into the town to choose it himself some days previously, and brought it home on foot in a flag basket. The butcher would have sent it, and if not, there were men on the farm who could have fetched it, but it was much too important to be .1 HARYLLIS .1 T THE F l//.'. l J son. No on but Mr. [den hii There w ■ in tin- :. mch thin it first For tl in ad vi'. i »rth on their I reach . and their d : • • ambling to t full the ugh it nicelj Lirectly 70a toach it with tl. [j ( Iced to a mr:.. on ;i hearth ; no oven I taint or carbon ; the pun had 1 1 Such < . burn log- of the fields esh air ; tl out as it liurus tl. 1 thro in the atmosph< grass and flowers. Esc ler, if they do of the m to its flavour a delicate ai I meat, co at a for iue. W nderful it is that wealthy people can endure 16 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. to have their meat cooked over coal or in a Bhut-up iron box, where it kills itself with its own -team, which ought to escape. But then wealthy villa people do do odd things. Lea Miserdbles who have to write like myself must put up with any- thing and be thankful fur permission to c . but people with mighty income - fro] >kery- ware, or mud, or bricks and mortar — why on earth these happy and favoured mortals do not live liko the godfi passes understand^ Parisian people use charcoal : perhaps P will convert some of vou who will not listen to a farmer. Mr. Iden had himself grown tl were placed before him. Thi without a drop of water in the whole dish of tl: They wire equal to the fine>t bread — rior to the bread with which the imi London permits itseli to be poisoned. (It is not much better, for it destroys the dij u.) Tl. too, with wheat at thirty shillings the qua price which is in itself one i rful things of the age. The finest bread ought cheap. "They be forty-folds," said Id himself to half a dozen. " Look at j go up into um like tea up a knob of sugar/' The gravy was drawn up anion. ury particles of the potatoes as if they had i capillary tubes. " Forty-folds," he repeated; '''they com'. l IfARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 17 to one It be an am bheng how thenga do thai ows for one. Thaay be an old-fashioi potato ■, yon won't find many of than brne forty- folds. Mine use I sai ■ a' purpose. I than that Amaryllis) — yon haven't L r "t bnt two" (to M [den). What he tble must and the qnanl No on mu ik, hardly to N i v - bnt tlir master oonld talk, talk, talk without end. The only talking that might be done by o\ - in prai the edibles on the table by ] full ided. You i - or tin- mutton, bnt yon mnst d k on any other Bubj< ct. v r was ii do thai . : it" v .1. •• \V! • tal po1 immediately helped to another plateful, and had to finish them, want them or not. [f yon praised the mutton several thick dices wi I on your plat if you left a particle. It was no use t i try and irhat you could not manage with knife and fork ; it n '■ What bean't you going to y< I it) up that tliero juicy bit, you : " Amaryllis and Mrs. [den, warned by previi experi> • v refrained from admiring either mutton or potatoes. CHAPTER III. H^jORTY-FOLDS," went on the i a betheb<-t keeping pota Thnr be bo many new a arts now, but they bean't no good ; they be very good for gentlefolk as doan't know no betl and poor folk as can't hi 3. They won't grow everywhere neither; there bean'1 bat i patch in our garden as ull grow 'urn well. that's big middle patch. Summat different in tin- soil thur. There's a lot, bleas you ! to be Learned before you can grow a potato, for all it looks such a simple thing. Farty-folds '' " Farty-folds !" said Mrs. Iden, imitating his provincial pronunciation with extr disgnst in her tone, "Aw, yes, too/*' Baid Iden. "Varty-volda be ould potatoes, and thur bean't none as can beat urn." The more she showed her irritation at his speech or ways, the more he accentuated both language and manner. lt Talking with your mouth full/' said Mrs. Idoo. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 19 It was true, [den did talk with his month full, very full indeed, for he fed heartily. The remark an- n tyed him ; he granted and Bplnttered and choked a little floury things are ohoky. Ho got it down by taking ;i long draught a1 hia qdarl of Btrong i Splendid ale it was, too, the Btuff i" induce yon 1" make faces at Goliath. 11 in to talk ■© again. ■•'I'll' onld Bhepl rd fetched mo those swede ena ; 1 axed nn three d > i ; I know'd we was going to have this yer mutton. You got to er things aforehand." " Axed," muttered Mrs. "Th" pigeons have been at urn, they be 'mazu fond of urn, s<> be the lark-. These be the I as thur They be the best things in I rid the blood. S ■■ be the top of all physic. It* you you don't want a ■ within tv. ■ Their'- nothing in all the chemists' Bhops in Bngls equal to -\\ ns" — helping himself to a large quantity i f Bait. •• What a lot of salt you do eat! " muttered Mrs. Ideu. " Onely you rnu-t have the real swedes — not thuck Btuff they sells in towns; greens they was onco p'rhaps, but tliey be tough as leather, and haven't got a drop of sap in am, Swedes is onely to be got about March." " Pooh ! vou can cfet them at Christmas in London/' said Mi's. Iden 20 AMA11YLLIS AT THE FAIR. "Aw, can ; ce ? Call they Bwede tops? T! bean't no good ; you might 1 eal dried leaves. I tell you these are the young fresh gr< i a shoots of spring" — suddenly ehanging his pronun- ciation as he became u ted is and forgot the shafts of irritation shot :it him by bis wife. "They are full of Bap — fresh Bap — theju which tho plant extracts fr m the earth active power of the sun'- ray- u It is this sap which is so good for the blood. Without the vegetable is no n ore than a woody fibn . Why the sap should be so powerful I cannot bell youj no one knows, any than they kuow the plant prepare a it. This which defy analysis —the laboratory fault, and can do nothing with it." (" More salt !" muttered Mrs. Idcn. "B n you i loh a quantity salt?") "There is something beyond what the laboratory can lay hand- onj thing thai can- not be weighed, or seen, or estimated, neither by quantity, quality, or by any i They ana champagne, for instance j ti 1 bo d irte water, so much BUgar, so much this, and so much that; but out of the hundred parte I .main ten — I think it is ten — at all events so many parts still to be accounted for. Thi are set down as volatile — the laboratory has not even a distinct name for this component; the laboratory knows nothing at all about it, cannot even name it. But this unknown constituent is the real cham- pagne. So it is with the sap. In spring the sap l VARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 21 posses a certain virtue; al other times of the r the Leaf La -till green, bu1 a ■ ! shall ha >me vi rid Mrs. [den, mil: 01 the crn Mr. [den made a wrj I f tl mei tion of vin bad set his teeth Ee look ber way and I old, to ■ tli-' with ar. To In philosophy vinegar was utterly ;u. bructn p-prin- cipl ' fu p v. !. in in-i, wicked, as . and ] Amaryllis would 1 dared to have I ther passed t!.'' ■ l • her, she, I fell awaj . - gar with the green \ All women like vim '-ar. Win n 1 ! the or .'1 Mr. Iden deigned in at I le. "Hal you'll cut your thumb!" he sh I to iryllisj who was cutting a piece of bread. put th>' loaf down with a consciousness of guilt. " Haven't 1 told you fa cut bread twenty tim Cutting towarcb r thumb like that! Hold your left 1 that if the knife slips it will go over. Here, like this. Give it to me." He cut a slice to show her, and then tossed the slice across the table so accurately that it fell AMARYLLIS I- TL m. actly into its proper place by her plat . 1! had a habit of tossing things in that v. " "Why ever couldn't yon pass it on the tra; 1 Mrs. Iden. " Y. 1 hate to see it." Amaryllis, as in duty bound, in appearas tho lesson in bread-cutting to heart, as s! done twenty times bef she should still cut a hat' in ' when out of his S not do it in I way — it was bo much easi< r in the other ; if Ehe did cut her hand id not "Now perhaps you'll r< a I the ma ■ ting up with his plate in 1 1. ■• Wnate\ .Mrs. Iden, who kn II. " Going to warm t ! into tho kitchen, Bat down b; ally wanned his plate " I should think y said Mrs. [den when ' "Yon had enough the first tii Bat Iden, who had tl. mt, and had never ruined a with vi r or sauces, piled am thick slices on his plate, now hot to liquefy the gravy, and the meat a jus portion of vegetables. In] portion and a just mixture the seer ing successfully consisted, according to him. First he ate a piece of the dark brown mu: this was immediately followed by a portion of floury ' IRYLLIS AT Till: FAIR. si by . and i ; tin in the month, he took a fira bread, asiti and cl tli. Finallj i draught of Btroi 1- a brief moi in- ■ re mixed in the His dinner was thna eaten in a a order, and with a kind of rhythm, dul . each ] :rti- cnlar flavour like a rhyme in its I duly put • ith itfl • vn by the nil I n ad, a vast ] I him. lie t great broad eal ad if t' the palate, the -. ith the ' i is the ohj :' his -his . diun any m- I like i thr. spid Th and on to the od if I .t that lie was in a 1. than nsn . and if It hi- gaze upon them, the family to some ibmitfe 1 1 : -. [den nor A: - ryll: rover, i . ever ir pal: int i this fixed -L^uence of feeding; and, if I was nut in a .wful and Jovelike mood, they 24 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. wandered about irregularly in their rating. "When the dinner was over (and, indeed, before it began | they had a way of visiting the larder, and " picking " little fragments of pies, or cold fowl, even a cold potato, the smallest mug — a quarter of a pint of the Goliath ale between them, or, if it was to be had, a sip of port wine. These women were very irrational in their feeding : they actually put vim on cold cabbage; they gloated over a fragment of pickled salmon about eleven o'clock in the morm Thoy had a herring sometimes for tea — the smell of it cooking sent the master iuto fits of indignation, he abominated it so, but they were so hard< aed and lost to righteousness they always repeated the offence next time the itinerant fish-dealer called. Y< u could not drum them into good solid, strain forward eating. They generally had a smuggled bit of pastry to eat in the kitchen after dinner, for Mr. Idcn c sidered that no one could need a second course after first-rate mutton and forty-folds. A morsi-1 of cheese if you liked — nothing more. In summer the great garden abounded with fruit ; he would have nothing but rhubarb, rhubarb, rhubarb, day after day, or else black-currant pudding. He held that black currants were the most wholesome fruit that grew ; if he fancied his hands were not quite clean he would rub them with black-currant lea*, to give them a pleasant aromatic odour (as ladies use scented soap) . He rubbed them with walnut- leaves for the same purpose. A YfARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 25 Of salad in its season he was a great eater, cucumber especially, and lettuce and celery ; but a mixed salad (oil ami a flash, as it were, of Wor- cester sauce) was a horror to him. A principle ran through all his eating — an idea, a plan and design. 1 assure you it is a very important matter this eating, a man's fortune depends on his dinner. I should have been a- rich a- Croesus if 1 could only have eaten what 1 liked all my time ; 1 am sure I shoulil, now I come to look back. The soundest and most wholesome food in the world was set on Mr. Ideu's table j yen may differ from hi- Bjstem, but you would have enjoyed the dark brown mutton, the floury potatoes, the fresh vegetables and fruit and salad, and the Goliath ale. When he had at Last finished his meal he took I knife and carefully scraped his crumbs together, drawing the edge along the cloth, first one way then the other, till he had a little heap ; for, eat so much bread, he made many crumbs. Having got them together, he proceeded to shovel them into his mouth with the end of his knife, so that not one was wasted. Sometimes he sprinkled a little moist sugar over them with his finger and thumb. He then cut himself a slice of bread and cheese, and sat down with it in his arm-chair by the fire, spreading his large red-and-yellow silk handkerchief on his knee to catch the fragments in lieu of a plate. " Why can't you eat your cheese at the table, 26 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. like other people?" said Mrs. Lion, shuffling her feet with contemptuous annoyance. A deep grunt in the throat was the answer she received ; at the same time he turned his arm-chair mor rds the fire, as much as to say, " Other people aro nothing to me." ciiaitei: IV '/ HIS arm-chair, of fashioned make, had lost an arm — the screw remained -ricking up, but the woodwork <>n that .-J side was gone. It had bfcen acciden- tal :en some ten years since ; yet, although ' very day, the arm had never been mended. Awkward as it was, he let it alone. "Hum ! whore's Tfo Standard, then V lie said presently, as he nibbled Ins c and sipped the ale which he had placed On the hob. " Here it is, i'.i." Baid Amaryllis, hastening with the paper. "Thought you despised the papers ':" said Mrs. Iden. " Thought there was nothing: but lies and rubbish in them, according to your*' "No more thur beau't.'' "You always take good care to read them, though." " Hum ! " Another deep grunt, and another slight turn of the chair. He could not answer this charge of inconsistency, for it was a fact that he 28 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. affected to despise the newspaper and yel read it with avidity , and would almost as soon have mis-, d his ale as his ne* Eowever, to settle with his conscience, he had a manner of holding the paper half aslanl a good way from him, and every now and then as he r uttered a dissentient or disgusted grunt. The master's taking up his paper was aal for all other p j to leave the I nol return till he had finish probably an illusion, the eye being deceived by the difference in colour between I and the var- nish around it. This human mark reminded one of thegrooi d by the I ;enerai •' worshippers in the sacn d the temple which they ascended on all-fours. It was, indeed, a mark <>f devotion, iirs. Eden and othei I very keen obsen would have said, to the god of S in \ nth, it was a singular instsj ttinued bion at the throne of th< >f Thought. It 1 think that Mr. Iden in the commence- ment assumed this posture of slumber, and com- mand. -d silen But thought which has 1 cultivated for a third of a century is apt to tone down to something uear somnolence. That panel of wainscot was, in bet, worthy of preservation as those on which the early ar: delineated the Madonna and Infant, and for which high prices are now paid. It was intensely — superlatively — human. "Worn in slow time by a human head within which a great mind was working under the most unhappy conditions, it had the 30 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. deep value attaching to inanimate things which have witnessed intolerable suffering. I am not a Roman Catholic, but I must confess that if I could be assured any particular piece of wood had really formed a part of the Cross I should think it the most valuable thing in the world, to which Koh-i-noors would be mud. I am a pagan, and think the heart and soul above crowns. That panel was in effect a cross on which a heart had been tortured for the third of a century, that is, for the space of time allotted to a generation. That mark upon the panel had still a further meaning, it represented the unhappiness, the mis- fortunes, the Nemesis of two hundred years. This family of Idens had endured already two hundred years of unhappiness and discordance for no original fault of theirs, simply because they had once been fortunate of old time, and therefore they had to work out that hour of sunshine to the utmost depths of shadow. The panel of the wainscot upon which that mark had been worn was in effect a cross upon which a human heart had been tortured — and thought can, indeed, torture — for a third of a centurv. For Iden had learned to know himself, and despaired. Xot long after he had settled himself and closed his eyes the handle of the door was very softly turned, and Amaryllis stole in for her book, which she had forgotten. She succeeded in getting it on tiptoe without a sound, but in shutting the door the AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 31 lock clicked, and she heard him kick the fender angrily with his iron-shod heel. After that there was utter silence, except the ticking of the American clock — a loud and dis- tinct tick in the still (and in that sense vacant) room. Presently a shadow somewhat darkened the window, a noiseless shadow ; Mrs. Iden had come quietly round the house, and stood in the March wind, watching the sleeping man. She had a shawl about her shoulders — she put out her clenched hand from under its folds, and shook her fist at him, muttering to herself, "Never do anything; nothing but sleep, sleep, sleep : talk, talk, talk ; never do anything. That's what I hate." The noiseless shadow disappeared ; the common American clock continued its loud tick, tick. Slight sounds, faint rustlings, began to be audible among the cinders in the fender. The dry cinders were pushed about by something passing between them. After a while a brown mouse peered out at the end of the fender under Iden's chair, looked round a moment, and went back to the grate. In a minute he came again, and ven- tured somewhat farther across the width of the white hearthstone to the verge of the carpet. This advance was made step by step, but on reaching the carpet the mouse rushed home to cover in one run — like children at " touch wood," going out from a place of safety very cautiously, returning swiftly. The next time another mouse followed, 32 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. and a third appeared at the other end of the fender. By degrees they got under the table, and helped themselves to the crumbs ; one mounted a chair and reached the cloth, but soon descended, afraid to stay there. Five or six mice were now busy at their dinner. The sleeping man was as still and quiet as if carved. A mouse came to the foot, clad in a great rusty- hued iron-shod boot — the foot that rested on the fender, for he had crossed his knees. His ragged and dingy trouser, full of March dust, and earth- stained by labour, was drawn up somdwhat higher than the boot. It took the mouse several trials to reach the trouser, but he succeeded, and audaciously mounted to Iden's knee. Another quickly fol- lowed, and there the pair of them feasted on the crumbs of bread and cheese caught in the folds of his trousers. One great brown hand was in his pocket, close to them — a mighty hand, beside which they were pigmies indeed in the land of the giants. What would have been the value of their lives between a finger and thumb that could crack a ripe and strong- shelled walnut ? The size — the mass — the weight of his hand alone was as a hill overshadowing them ; his broad frame like the Alps ; his head high above as a vast rock that overhung the valley. His thumb-nail — widened by labour with spade and axe — his thumb-nail would have covered # AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIIi. 33 either of the tiny creatures as his shield covered Ajax. Yet the little things fed in perfect confidence. Ho "was so still, so very still — quiescent — they feared him no more than they did the wall ; they could not hear his breathing:. Had they been gifted with human intelligence that very fact would have excited their suspicions. "Why so very, very still ? Strong men, wearied by work, do not sleep quietly ; they breathe heavily. Even in firm sleep we move a little now and then, a limb trembles, a muscle quivers, or stretches itself. But Idon was so still it was evident he was really wide awake and restraining his breath, and exer- cising conscious command over his muscles, thai this scene might proceed undisturbed. Now the strangeness of the thing was in this way : Iden set traps for mice in the cellar and the larder, and slew them there without mercy. He picked up the trap, swung it round, opening the door at the same instant, and the wretched captive was dashed to death upon the stone flags of the floor. So he hated them and persecuted them in ono place, and fed them in another. A long psychological discussion might be held on this apparent inconsistency, but I shall leave analysis to those who like it, and go on recording facts. I will only make one remark. That nothing is consistent that is human. If it was not incon- sistent it would have no association with a living person. D 34 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. From the merest thin slit, as it were, between his eyelids, Iden watched the mice feed aud run about his knees till, haying eaten every crumb, they descended his leg to the floor. uiaitki: V. E2 waa nol asleep — he was thinking. Letimes, of course, it happened thai dumber was induoed by the position in which he placed himself; slumln-r, however, was not his intent. 1 1 <■ liked to rest after his midday meal and think. There was no real Loss of time iu it —he had Itch at work since half-past fire. Efts especial and Btriking characteristic was a very Large, high, and coble forehead the forehead attributed to Shakespeare and Been in his bu Shakespeare's intellect is beyond inquirj b was not altogether a man of action. He was, in- deed, an actor upon tl, he stole the red deer (delightful to think of that !), hut he did not sail to the then new discovered lands of Ame- rica, nor did he fight the Spaniards. So much in- tellect is, perhaps, antagonistic to action, or rather it is averse to those arts by which a soldier climbs to the position of commander. If Shakespeare by the chance of birth, or other accident, had had the order of England's forces, we should have seen 3G AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. generalship such as the world had not known since Caesar. His intellect was too big to climb backstairs till opportunity came. We have great thoughts in- stead of battles. Iden's forehead might have been sculptured for Shakespeare's. There was too much thought in it for the circumstances of his life. It is possible to think till you cannot act. After the mice descended Iden did sleep for a few minutes. When he awoke he looked at the clock in a guilty way, and then opening tho oven of the grate, took out a baked apple. Ho had one there ready for him almost always — always, that is, when they were not ripe on the trees. A baked apple, he said, was the most wholesome thing in the world ; it corrected the stomach, pre- vented acidity, improved digestion, and gave tone to all the food that had been eaten previously. If people would only eat baked apples they would not need to be for ever going to the chemists' shops for drugs and salines to put them right. Tho women were always at the chemists' shops — you could never pass the chemists' shops in the town without seeing two or three women buying some- thing. The apple was the apple of fruit, the natural medicine of man — and the best flavoured. It was compounded of the sweetest extracts and essences of air and light, put together of sunshine and wind and shower in such a way that no laboratory could AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 37 imitate : and so on in a strain and with a simplicity of language that reminded you of Bacon and his philosophy of the Elizabethan age. Iden in a way certainly had a tinge of the Baco- nian culture, naturally, and not from any study of that author, whose books he had never seen. The great Bacon was, in fact, a man of orchard and garden, and gathered his ideas from tho fields. Just look at an apple on the tree, said Iden. Look at a Blenheim orange, tho inimitable mixture of colour, the gold and bronze, and ruddy tints, not bright colours — undertones of bright colours — smoothed together and polished, and made the more delightful by occasional roughness in the rind. Or look at the brilliant King Pippin. Now he was getting older he found, however, that tho finest of them all was the russet. For eating, at its proper season, it was good, but for cooking it was simply the Imperial (as ir and Sultan of apples; whether for baking, or pies, or sauce, there was none to equal it. Apple-sauce made of the real true russet was a sauce for Jove's own table. It was necessary that it should be the real russet. Indeed in apple trees you had to be as careful of breeding and pedigree as the owners of racing stables were about their horses. Bipe apples could not be got all the year round in any variety ; besides which, in winter and cold weather the crudity of the stomach needed to be assisted with a little warmth ; therefore bake them. 38 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. Pcoplo did not cat nearly enough fruit now-a- days; they had too much butcher's meat, and not enough fruit — that is, home-grown fruit, straight from orchard or garden, not the half-sour stutl' .sold in the shops, picked before it was ready. The Americans were much wiser (he knew a good deal about America — he had been there in his early days, before thought superseded action) — the Americans had kept up many of the fino old English customs of two or three hundred years since, and among these was the eating of fruit. They were accused of being so modern, bo very, v modern, but, iu fact, the country Americans, with whom he had lived (and who had taught him how to chop) maintained much of the genuino antique life of old England. They had first-rate ap] I it was enrions that the same trees produced au apple having a slightly different flavour to what it had in this country. You could always distinguish an American apple by its peculiar piquancy — a sub-acid piquancy, a wild strawberry piquancy, a sort of woodland, forest, backwoods delicacy of its own. And so on, and so on — " talk, talk, talk," as Mrs. Iden said. After his baked apple he took another guilty look at the clock, it was close on four, and went into the passage to get his hat. In farmhou these places are called passages ; in the smallest of villas, wretched little villas not fit to be called houses, they are always " halls." AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 39 In the passage Mrs. Iden was waiting for him, and began to thump his broad though bowed back with all her might. " Sleep, sleep, sleep !" she cried, giving him a thump at each word. " You've slept two hours. (Thump.) You sleep till you stupefy yourself (thump), and then you go and dig. What's the use of digging ? (Thump.) Why don't you mako some money f (Thump.) Talk and sleep ! (Thump.) I hate it. (Thump.) You've rubbed the paint off the wainscot with your sleep, sleep, sleep (thump) — there's ono of your hairs sticking to the paint where your head goes. (Thump,) Anything more hateful — sleep (thump), talk (thump), sleep (thump). Goon!" She had thumped him down tho passage, and across tho covered-in court to the door opening on the garden. There he paused to put on his hat — an aged, battered hat — some sort of nondescript bowler, broken, grey, weather-stained, very battered and very aged — a pitiful hat to put above that broad, Shakespearian forehead. "While he fitted it on he was thumped severely : when he opened the door he paused, and involuntarily looked up at the sky to see about the weather — a habit all country people have — and so got more thumping, ending as he started out with a tremendous push. He did not seem to resent the knocks, nor did the push accelerate his pace; he took it very much as he took the March wind. Mrs. Iden slammed the door, and went in to 40 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. clear the dinner things, and make ready for tea. Amaryllis helped her. " He'll want his tea in half an hour," said Mrs. Iden. u What's the use of his going out to work for half an hour?" Amaryllis was silent. She was very fond of her father ; he never did anything wrong in her eyes, and she could have pointed out that when he sat down to dinner at one he had already worked as many hours as Mrs. Iden's model City gentleman in a whole day. His dinner at one was, in effect, equivalent to their dinner at seven or eight, over which they frequently lingered an hour or two. He w. >uld still go on labouring, almost another half day. But she held her peace, for, on the other hand, she could not contradict and argue with her mother, whom she knew had had a wearisome life and perpetual disappointment- . .Mrs. Iden grumbled on to herself, working her- self into a more fiery passion, till at last she put down the tea-pot, and rushed into the garden. There as she came round the first thing she saw was the daffodil, the beautiful daffodil Amaryllis had discovered. Beside herself with indignation — what was the use of flowers or potatoes? — Mrs. Iden stepped on the border and trampled the flower under foot till it was shapeless. After this she rushed indoors again and upstairs to her bedroom, where she locked herself in, and fumbled about in the old black oak chest of drawers till she found a faded lavender glove. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 41 That glove had been worn at the old " Ship " at Brighton years and years ago in the honey- moon trip : in those days bridal parties went down by coach. Faded with years, it had also faded from the tears that had fallen upon it. She turned it over in her hands, and her tears spotted it once more. Amaryllis went on with the tea-making; for her mother to rush away in that manner was nothing new. She toasted her father a piece of toast — he affected to despise boast, but he always ate it if it was there, and looked about for it if it was not, though he never said anything. The clock struck five, and out she went to tell him tea was ready. Coming round the house she found her daffodil crushed to pieces. "Oh!" The blood rushed to her forehead ; then her beautiful lips pouted and quivered ; tears filled her eyes, and her breast panted. She knew immediately who had done it ; she ran to her bed- room to cry and to hide her grief and indignation. 2 CHAPTER VI. ADY-DAY Fair came round by and by, and Amaryllis, about eleven o'clock in the morning, went down the garden to the end of the orchard, where she & mid overlook the highway without being seen, and watch the folk go past. Just there the road began to descend into a hollow, while the len continued level, so that Amaryllis, leaning her arm on the top of the wall, was much higher up than those who went along. The wall dropped quite fourteen feet down to the road, a rare red brick wall — thick and closely-built, the bricks close together with thin seams of mortar, so that the fibres of the whole mass were worked and com- pressed and bound firm, like the fibres of a piece of iron. The deep red bricks had a colour — a certain richness of stability — and at the top this good piece of workmanship was protected from the weather by a kind of cap, and ornamented with a projecting ridge. Within the wall Amaryllis could stand on a slight bank, and easily look over it. "Without there was a sheer red precipice of fourteen AMARYLLIS AT THE FA IB. 43 feet down to the dusty sward and nettles besido the road. Some bare branches of a plum tree trained against the wall rose thin and tapering above it in a bunch, a sign of bad "gardening, for they ought to have been pruned, and the tree, indeed, Intel an appear- ance of neglect. One heavy bough had broken away from the nails and list, and drooped to the grouud, and the shoots of last year, not having been trimmed, thrust themselves forward presump- tuously. Behind the bunch of thin and tapering branches risiug above the wall Amaryllis was partly hidden, but she relied a great deal more for concealment upon a fact Iden had taught her, that people very seldom look up; and consequently if you are only a little higher they will not see you. This Bhe proved that morning, for not one of all who pas-, d glanced up from the road. The shepherd kept his ■ fixed on his sheep, and the drover on his bullocks ; the boys were in a hurry to get to the fair and spend their pennies ; the wenches had on a bit of blue ribbon or a new bonnet, and were perpetually looking at the traps that over- took them to see if the men admired their finery. No one looked up from the road they were pur- suing. The photographer fixes the head of the sitter by a sort of stand at the back, which holds it steady in one position while the camera takes the picture. In life most people have their heads fixed in the 44 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. claws of some miserable pettiness, which interests tliem so greatly that they tramp on steadily for- ward, staring ahead, and there's not the slightest fear of their seeing anything outside the rut they are travelling. Amaryllis did not care anything about the fair or the people either, knowing very well what sort they would be ; but I suspect, if it had been pos- sible to have got at the cause which brought her there, it would have been traced to the unconscious influence of sex, a perfectly innocent prompting, quite unrecognised by the person who feels it, and who would indignantly deny it if rallied on the sub- ject, but which leads girls of her age to seize opportunities of observing the men, even if of an uninteresting order. Still they are men, those curious beings, that unknown race, and little bits of knowledge about them may, perhaps, be picked up by a diligent observer. The men who drifted along the road towards the Fair were no " mashers, by Jove !" Some of them, though young, were clad antiquely enough in breeches and gaiters — not sportsmen's breeches and gaiters, but old-fashioned "granfer" thing the most of them were stout and sturdy, in drab and brown suits of good cloth, cut awry. Hundreds of tjiem on foot, in traps, gigs, fourwheels, and on horseback, went under Amaryllis : but, though they were all Christians, there was not one " worth a Jewess' eye." She scorned them all. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 45 This member of the unknown race was too thickly made, short set, and squat; this one too fair — quite white and moist-sugar looking; this one had a straight leg. Another went by with a great thick and long black beard — what a horrid thing, now, when kissing ! — and as he walked he wiped it with his sleeve, for he had just washed down the dust with a glass of ale. His neck, too, was red and thick ; hideous, yet he was a " stout knave," and a man all over, as far as body makes a man. But women are, like Shakespeare, better judges. " Care I for the thews and sinews of a man ?" They look for something more than bulk. A good many of these fellows were more or less lame, for it is astonishing if you watch peoplo go by and keep account of them what a number have game legs, both young and old. A young buck on a capital horse was at the first glance more interesting — paler, rakish, a cigar in his mouth, an air of viciousness and dash combined, fairly well dressed, pale whiskers and beard; in short, he knew as much of the billiard-table as he did of sheep and corn. When nearer Amaryllis disliked him more than all the rest put together ; she shrank back a little from the wall lest he should chance to look up ; she would have feared to have been alone with such a character, and yet she could not have said why. She would not have feared to walk side by side with the great black beard — hideous as he was — nor with any of the rest, not even with the 46 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. roughest of the labourers who tramped along. This gentleman alone alarmed her. There were two wenches, out for their Fair Day holiday, coming by at the same time ; they had on their best dresses and hats, and looked fresh and nice. They turned round to watch him coming, and half waited for him; when he came up he checked his hor.se, and began to "cheek" them. Nothing loth, the village girls " cheeked '' him, and so they passed on. One or two very long men appeared, unusually clumsy, . in walking they did not know exactly what to do with their legs. Amaryllis had no objection to their being tall — indeed, to be tall is often a passport to a " Jewess' eye " — but they were so clumsy. Of the Bcoree who went by iu traps and vehicles she could not sec much but their clothes aud their faces, and both the clothes and the faces were very much alike. Rough, good cloth, ill-fitting (the shoulders were too broad for the tailor, who wanted to force Bond Street measurements on the British farmer's back); reddish, speckled faces, and yel- lowish hair and whiskers ; big speckled hands, and that was all. Scores of men, precisely similar, were driven down the road. If those broad speckled hands had been shown to Jacob's ewes he need not have peeled rods to make them bring forth speckled lambs. Against the stile a long way up the road there was a group of five or six men, who were there AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 47 when she first peered over the wall, and made no further progress to the Fair. They were waiting till some acquaintance came by and offered a lift ; lazy dogs, they could not walk. They had already been there long enough to have walked to the Fair and back, still they preferred to fold their hands and cross their legs, and stay on. So many people being anxious to get to the town, most of those who drove had picked up friends long before they got here. The worst walker of all was a constable, whose huge boots seemed to take possession of the width of the road, for he turned them out at right angles, working his legs sideways to doit, an extraordinary exhibition of stupidity and ugliness, for which the authorities who drilled him iu that way were respon- sible, and not the poor fellow. Among the lowing cattle and the baaing sheep there drifted by a variety of human animals, tramps and vagrants, not nearly of so much value as the wool and beef. It is curious that these " characters " — as they are so kindly called — have a way of associating themselves with things that promise vast enjoyment to others. The number of unhappy, shirtless wretches who thread their path in and out the coaches at the Derby is wonderful. While the champagne fizzes above on the roof, and the foot- man between the shafts sits on an upturned hamper and helps himself out of another to pie with truffles, the hungry, lean kine of human life wander round 48 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. about sniffing and smelling, like Adam and Eve after the fall at the edge of Paradise. There are such incredible swarms of vagrants at the Derby that you might think the race was got up entirely for their sakes. There would be thou- sands at Sandown, but the gate is locked with a half-crown bolt, and they cannot get a stare at the fashionables on the lawn. For all that, the true tramp, male or female, is so inveterate an attendant at races and all kinds of accessible entertainments and public events that the features of the fashion- able an • better known to him than to hundreds of well-to-do people unable to enter society. So they paddled along to the fair, sir , in the dust, among the cattle and Bheepj bauds in pockets, head hanging down, most of them followed at a short distance by a Thing. This Thing is upright, and therefore, according to the old definition, ought to come within the genus Homo. It wears garments rudely resembling those of a woman, and there it ends. Perhaps it was a woman once ; perhaps it never was, for many of them have never had a chance to enter the ranks of their own sex. aryllis was too young, and, as a consequence, too full of her own strength and youth and joy in life to think for long or seriously about these curious Things drifting by like cattle and sheep. Yet her brow contracted, and she drew herself together as they passed — a sort of shiver, to think that there should be such degradation in the world. Twice AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 49 when they came along her side of the road she dropped pennies in front of them, which they picked up in a listless way, just glancing over the ear in the direction the money fell, and went on without so much as recognizing where it came from. If sheep were treated as unfortunate human beings arc, they would take a latter revenge; though they aro the mildest of creatures, they would soon turn round in a venomous maun. If they did not . o sufficient to eat and drink, and were not well sheltered, they would take a bitter revenge: they would die. Loss of E s. d. ! But human being's have not even got the courage or energy to do that ; they put up with anything, aud drag on — miserables that they ar I said they were not equal in value i<> the -heep — why, they're no1 worth anything when they're dead. You cannot even sell the skins of the Things ! Slip-slop in the dnst they drive along to the fair, where there will bo an immense amount of eating and a far Larger amount of drinking all round them, in every house they pass, and up to midnight. They will see valuable animals, and men with well- lined pockets. What on earth can a tramp find to please him among all this '' It is not for him ; yet he goes to see it. E CHAPTEi: VII. HE cr wd I egan i thickly, when Amaryllis saw a man g up the road in tin- opposite ^direction that in which the multitude wa mg. They were goin fair ; h< had his Lack to it, ami a party in a trap rallied him smartly for his folly. "What! bean't you fair? Why, iter Duck, what's up ? Looking for a thundi m':" — whicli yonng ducks are supp sed •• Ea! ha*! ha!" Oleaster Duck, with a broad grin on his face, nevertheless plodded up the hill,, and passed beneath •ryllis. She knew him very well, for he lived in the hamlet, but she would not have taken anv notice of him had he not been so elaborately dressed. His high silk hat shone glossy; his black broad- cloth coat was new and carefully brushed ; lie was in black all over, in contrast with the mass of people who had gone by that morning. A blue necktie, bright and clean, spotless linen, gloves # AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 51 rolled up in a ball in one hand, whiskers brushed, boots shining, teeth clean, Johnny was oft' to the fair ! The coat fitted him to a nicety; it had, in ! no chance to do otherwise, for his great back and shoulders stretched it tight, and would have done so had it been made like a sack. Of all the big men who had gone by that day -lack Duck was tho biggesl : his back was immense, as sight, too, for he walked upright for a farmer, nor was his bulk altogether without effect, for he was notovrr- burdened with abdomen, so that it showed to the best advantage. He was a little over the average height, but not tall; he had grown laterally. He could lift t w( i sacks of wheat from tho ground. You just try to lift <■ His si e too long, so that only the groat knuckles of his Bpeckled hands were visible. Red whiskers, red hair, blue eyes, speckled face, straight lips, thick, like the edge of an earthenware pitcher, and of much the same coarse red hue, always a ready grin, a round, hard head, which you might have hit safely with a mallet ; and there is the picture. For some reason, very big men do not look well in glossy black coats and silk hats ; they seem to want wideawakes, bowlers, caps, anything rather than a Paris hat, and si>ine loose-cut jacket of a free-and-easy colour, suitable for the field, or cricket, or boating. They do not belong to the town and narrow doorways ; Nature grew them for hills and fields. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. Com] ared with the Continental folk, most Eng- lishmen are big, and therefore, as their " best " suits do not fit iu with their character as writto n in limbs and shoulders, the Continent thinks us clumsy. The truth is, it is the Continent that is little. •• Isn't ho u ' thought Amaryllis, looking down on poor John Duck. "Isn't he ugly V* Now the top of the wall was crusted with in which lias a v growis bricks and mm'tar, and attaching particles of brick to it- roots, ka watched the ] she unconsciously trifled with a little ] her hand ha; I at the mi the wall, and BS J Duck went onder Bhi bit of moss straight on li - -y hat. Tap! the fin I of brick adhering to the -truck the hollow hat smartly like a drum. She drew back quickly, Laughing and blushing, and angry with herself all at tli' time, for she had done it without a thought. .lack pulled on* his hat, saw nothing, and put it on again, suspecting that some one in a passing had " chucked " something at him. In a minute Amaryllis - I oyer the wall, and, seeing his broad back a long way up the road, resumed her stand. "However could I do such a stupid thii. . she thought. " But isn't he ugly ': Aren't they all ugly ': All of them — horridly ugly."' The entire unknown race of Man was hideous. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 53 So coarse in feature — their noses were thick, half au inch thick, or enormously long and knobbed at end like a walking-stick, or curved like a reaping-hook, or slewed to one side, or flat as if they had been smashed, or shorl and stumpy and incomplete, or spotted with red blotches, or turned up in the vulgaresl manner — nobody had a good nos Their eyes were j . round and staring — like liquid marbles— they had no eyelasl and their eyebrows were either white and in- visible, or Bhaggy, as it* thistlt w along their • Their cheeks were Bpeckled and freckled and red and brick-dust and leather-coloured, and end with scrubby whisker-, like a garden heel. Upon the wholi . »se who shaved and were ■oth looked worse than those who did not, for they thus exposed the angularities of their chins and jav They wore such leu-rid hats on the top of tl roughly-sketched faces — sketched, as it were, with a bit of burnt stick. Some of them had their hats on the backs of their heads, and some wore them aslant, and some jammed over their brows. They went along smoking and puffing, and talk- ing and guffawing in the vulgarest way, en route to swill and smoke and puff and guffaw somewhere els . "Whoever could tell what they were talking about ': these creatures. -; A MARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. They had no fonn or grace like a woman — no lovely sloped shoulders, no beautiful bosom, no sweeping curve of robe down to the feet. No softness of cheek, or silky hair, or complexion, or taper fingers, or arched eyebrows ; no sort of style whateT They were mere wooden figures j in short, sublimely ugly. There was a good deal of truth in Amaryllis' reflections; it was a pity a woman was not taken into confidence when the men were made. Supposo the women were like the men. and wo had to make love to Buch a set of bristly, grisly wretches! — pah! shouldn't we think them ugly! The patience of the women, putting up with us so Ion uscles on which we pride ourselres so much, in a woman'- i yea (though she prefers a strong man) they simply increase our extraordinary ugliness. But if we look pale, and slim, and so forth, then they despise us, and there is no doubt that alto- gether the men were made wrong. " And Jack's the very ugliest of the lot/' thought Amaryllis. " He just is ugly/ J Pounding up the slope, big John Duck camo by-and-by to the gateway, and entering without ceremony, as is the custom in the country, found Mr. Iden near the back door talking to a farmer who had seated himself on a stool. He was a middle-aged man, stout and florid, rough as a chunk of wood, but dressed in Lis best AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 55 brown for the fair. ra were rolling down his vast round checks as he expatiated on his griev- ances to Mr. Iden : — ">>'•>. • you see how I be helped up with this here 'ooman/' he concluded as Duck arrived. Mr. Iden, not a little glad of an opportunity to escape a repetition of the narrative, to which he had patiently listened, took Jack by the arm, and led him indoors. As they went the man on the stool extended his arm towards them hopelessly : — " Just you see how I be helped up with this here 'ooman !" A good many have been " helped up " with a woman before now. Mrs. Iden mi k with a gracious smile — she always did — yet there could not have been imagined a man le-s likely to have pleased her. A quick, nervous temperament, an eye sharp to detect failings or foolishness, an admirer of brisk- ness and vivacity, why did she welcome John Duck, that incarnation of stolidity and slowness, that enormous mountain of a man ? Because extremes me' Xo, since she was always complaining of Iden's dull, motionless life ; so it was not the con- trast to her own disposition that charmed her. John Duck was Another Man — not Mr. Iden. The best of matrons like to see Another Man enter their houses ; there's no viciousness in it, it is simply nature, which reqnires variety. The best of husbands likes to have another woman — or two, or three — on a visit ; there's nothing wrong, it is AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. innocent enough, and but gives a spice to the monotony of existence Besides, John Duck, that mountain of slowm and stolidity, was not perhaps a fool, notwithstand- ing his outward clumsiness. A little attention is appreciated even by a matron of middle age. "Will you get us some ale? ,J Baid [den, and . [den brought a full jug with her own hands — ;i rare thing, for she hated the Goliath barrel Iden enjoyed it. "Going to the fair. Mr. Duck?" "Yi -. lu'ui.'' said John, deep in his chest ami gruff, about a- .•• might !"• i cpected to sp if he had a voice. " You going, m'm ? I just come up to ask if you'd ride in my dog-trap ?" bn had a first-rate turn-out. Mrs. Iden, beaming with Bmiles, replied that she was m>t L r "iiiL' t>> tin- fair. "Should hi- glad to take you, you know," said John, dipping into tin- ale. " Shall you be going presently ':" — to Mr. Iden. " Perhaps you'd have a B "Huln!' , said Iden, fiddling with his chin, a trick he had when undecided. " I don't za know; fine day, you seej want to see that hedge grubbed ; want to fill up the ; want to go over to the wood meads ; thought about '' "There, take and go!'' said Mrs. Iden. "Sit there thinking — take and go." "I can't say zactly, John ; don't seem to have anything to go vor.'" AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 57 " What do other people go for V said Mrs. Iden, contemptuously. " Why can't you do like other people ? Get on your clean shirt, and go. Jack can wait — he can talk to Amaryllis while you dress." "Perhaps Miss would like to go," suggested John, very quietly, and as if it was no consequence to him ; the very thing ho had called for, to see if he could get Amaryllis to drive in with him. He knew that Mrs. Iden never went anywhere, and that Mr. Iden could not make up his mind in a minute — he would require three or four days at least — so that it was quite safe to ask them first. " Of course she would," said Mrs. Iden. " She oing — to dine with her grandfather ; it will save her a long walk. You had better go and ask her; she's down at Plum Corner, watching the people." " So I wull," said Jack, looking out of the great bow window at the mention of Plum Corner — he could just see the flutter of Amaryllis' dress in the distance between the trees. That part of the garden was called Plum Corner because of a famous plum tree — the one that had not been pruned and was sprawling about the wall. Mr. Iden had planted that plum tree specially for Mrs. Iden, because she was so fond of a ripe luscious plum. But of late years he had not pruned it. " Vine ale \" said John, finishing his mug. "Extra vine ale!" AMARYLLIS AT I [JR. "It be, bean't if:" said Mr. [den. It really was humming stuff, but John well knew how prond [den was of it, and how much he 1: to hear it praised. The inhabitants of t by of London e< n- y imagine that no one can irp-wii ride tho sound of Bow Bells — country pi-uplo stupid. My opinion is that clumsy Jack Duck, who took about half an hour to wril equal to most of th< 7/ / n CHAP VIII. HE : . [den walked with him through the orchard. •• Famous wall I 1 -I < >liu , pi - Lding towards the great brick wall which adorned thai side thr place. "' : how to build walls in thoso days." '• N about lit said [den, as proud of his wall as hi- ale. such bricks to be v how put up a wall now — you read in the papers how I houses vails down in Lunnon. ■• S ;' cracks and ... - squashes up/' said J elm. •' Now, that's a real bit of brickwork,"' -aid [den. "'That'll last— ah, last " " Xo end to it/' said John, who had admired the wall forty times before, thinkiu. iinself as he Amaryllis leaning over the comer, " Blessed if I den't think as 'twas she as dropped surnmat on my hat."' This strengthened his hopes; he had a tole- rably clear idea that Mr. and Mrs. Iden were not AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR averse to his Buit ; but he v. nbtful ah taryllis herself. Amaryllis had not t ! dea 1 Kick had so much as looked at her — h< bnt rbed in th< rip. rn if Bhe had John I hick •■ yom a in the pur] 1 eliei n to I " indeed when father died. (Mil I hick, t: tlit* li: in tl II y in a u wil] 1 1 -.\ ■ i ever :. • : • dii irk chii ' '.• I ■ dirty, ui These are far . than ' ni a v. in a beautiful i w or I Duck, being too nt in a - with his ht ad, thi in b commandii | - tion, he i 1 hi> i k. One day he was pnt in a cart instead, and tl carl king b the I nd nc what ill it w up the hills, and drawl- ■ half a£ . 'jtiite I I his mast . and dreamed he had By-and-by, he pulled out the nd shot Old Duck out. "A AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 61 : me out/' grumbled the old man, " aa if I'd a d a load of flint Riding about in this rude chariot the old fellow I lerable wealth — hi for money waa v< indeed and hia John wouldj it. John felt Bure of Mr. and Mrs. [d< q, but about Aniarvllis In- did qo< know. The idea that Bhe had dropped '* summ il i □ hi ly. N( .v Amaryllis itiful — Bh young; I do not think any girl ia really atiful ao young b1 y individuals : had a dial in and Bgui that thei ething about her very different I i-N, something v< ry markedj but it it beauty Wnethi bn thought her hand* i that Bhe would be, or what, I d whether he look I "fori 1. " Hei« ■ ! " John had never read Burn-, and would not ha known that tocher meant dowry; nor had he .- the advice of Tennyson — "Doesn't thee marry t*"r money, But go where money lies." but his native intelligence needed no assistance from the poets, coronetted or otherwise. TARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. Jt was i>: '»ue that her father, Iden, •r as th ■ rag ld ( 'hristendom coul'l make him ; bit it w Lallywe >wnand a matter of public faith, that her grandfather, the great miller ami b . Lord Lardy-* as the derisively, had literally bus) upon l'ii-! f money. He famous stick for . and it waa undi that t i. were twenty thousand spade . under 1 l. Ai ir in the wh country side t >ld you and w ■ well known Paul's is in the City. rhicb t] ther i ion, l • favourite ai Court — Court meaning: tl Hon. Raleigh . the I •' wner that side of the county. I . : I D P (which was prh he pleased, he - tbout the garden . . chatted familiarly with .il family of Pamment when they w me, and when they '■■ k any friend he chi through I Joons. "Must tat at the bottom on' id ii Duck to himself many a time and oft. "T\ stuck-up proud folk wouldn't have be there if there -n't Bummat at the bottom on't." A favotu at Court could i -e, no doubt, many valuable privileges. Amaryllis heard their talk as they came nearer, AM Ml VI. I. is AT THE FMli. 63 and turned round anil faced them. She wore a Mack dress, but no lint; instead she had carelessly wn a scarlet shawl over her head, mantilla fashion, and held it with one hand. Her dark ringlets fringed her forehead, blown IV ! wild ; the fresh air had brought a bright colour into her cheeks. As is often the case with girls whose is just beginning bo show itself, her dr seemed somewhat shi I in front — lifted up from her ankles, which gave the of buoyancy to her form, emed about to walk thoi standing still. Th< re was a defiant hunt in her deep brown eyes, that Bort of " I don't care ,J i a which our gra 1 to say would take us to the gallows. Defiance, wilfuln rebellion, was expressed in the very way >od on the bank, a Little higher than they wer . able to look over their heads. " Marning," said John, rocking his 1 I > one side as a salul " Marning," repeated Amaryllis, mocking his broad pronunciation. As John could not get any further Idcn helped him. " Jack's going to the fair/' he said, " and thought you would like to ride with him. Ifun in and dress." " I shan't ride," said Amaryllis, " I shall walk." " Longish way.'' -aid John. " Mor'n two mile." " I shall walk," said A;. ledlv. 11 Lot of cattle about," said John. AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. •• Better ride," Baid [d ■ N ." t i . 1 Amaryllis, Hid turned I k on them t<» Look the wall again. be was adi for them but to walk away. "II I Iden, alv. tliii I make Bquart th, " v lik ike her and pick her a] •• Ber wull A : : k> '1 down ' trap thru. M p a had I i time " I ' " I ha fain th( bo sill in mu " Your _rlit : yon know it's hia dinn< r-day. ,J "II' rack a horrid •• I i :.'• I ar hin , ••II n i . ry rude and d ul." Th< Irs. [den. tin: 1 1 ali..- I ■ . for an hou time, calling bin ul»l think of, ■■■■- him oi ily un " be ■ beyed." AinarylK . - bid. One day Mrs. Iden hm and iei 1 • inaie " Make hae ■: now, then, pnf yonr thii. — oom( . ■ Amaryllis, mu linst her will, wa of the 1. . A- John I litted tl I ■ the a the . which An I usual, a few niiuir . . and drawn his qu i lown to sip it in . window till • brouc " 5T( tt'r :i, irrii "(i ae — war : ■ gruffly for him. " T . of course — like other peopl "Hum," g . [den. ■• Yon know yonr father - all the family to come in to dinner on fair 'lay; 1 can't think how you can n _ him, when you know we Haven't got F 66 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. a shilling — why don't you go in :m take refuge in Spain; and soon to an indefinite extent, like the multiplica- tion table. CHAPTER l.\. HIS discordance between her father and mother hurt Amaryllis' affectionate hearl \mg\y. It seemed to be always breaking on! all the year round. Of a sumii; .'•, when the day's work among the 1 1 • ► t hay was done, Men would a go -a; and sit under the russet apple till the '.v hail filled the grass like a green sea. When the title <>t" the dew had risen he would take off try boots and stockings, and bo walk about in the cool shadows of eve, paddling in the wet gr He liked the refreshing coolness and the touch of the sward. 1 1 was not for washing, because he was scru- pulously clean under the . I old coat; it was because lie liked the grass. There was nothing very terrible in it; men, and women, too, take off their shoes and stockings, and wade about on the sands at the sea, and no one thinks that it is any- thing but natural, reasonable, and pleasant. But, then, you see. body does it at the seaside, and Iden alone waded in the dew, and that was his crime — that he alone did it. 70 AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. The Btonn and rage of Mrs. [den whem vet Bhe kmw he was paddling in the grass was awful. She would come shuffling out — he had a way of rubbing her Bhoee along the 1 when irritau <1 with her hands ondeT her apron, which Bhe twif about — and pelt him with scorn. •• Tin ire, j.ut your te on — do, and hide your • ■ '" [den had a particularly white skin, and as white as a lady's. " Disgusting] Nobody ever does it bntyou,andyou ought to be ashamed of ; If! Anything more disgusting I never ill you w«>uld ever think such a thing; make! feel qu< you.' 1 Shufflu at, and muttering to herself, " body else " — that was the sin and guilt of it — by- and-by Mrs. [den would i round to where he had left hia 1 • ad, suddi al; old fling them in the ditch. And 1 verily believe, in the d nation, if i afraid to t mch fire- arms, she would have i I out t! had • at him. AJ time [d de, and went up the meadow to I nut trees that he himself had planted, and there, in I quieti i cool shadow, wai about in the dew, withoutanyone to grumble at him. How crookedly thing- arc managed in this world ! 1: is the modern fashion to laugh at the E nnd despise the Turks and all their ways, making 1 # AMARYLLIS AT THE FAIR. 71 Grand Viziers of barbers, and Betting waiters in high places, with the ntmosl contempt for any tiling sonable — all s<> incongruous and chance-ruled. In truth, all things in our x>:ry midst go on in tho Turkish manner j crooked mens I in Btraight places, and Btraighl ; pie in crooked places, just the same as if we had all been dropped pr :uously out of a bag and shook down together on th irtb to work out our lives, quite im ve of our Such an utter jumbl Eere was Men, with hi I brain and won- derful power of rvation, who ought to b a a famous traveller in uni • d Africa or Thibet, bringing home ran; .1 wonders; or, with his Bingular capacity for construction, a leading . boring Mi nl Cenis Tunnels and making Panama Can -. . with fa dan intelli hool of philosophy — here was Men, tending c nd ritl >es, undecidedly on a stilt — ittdng astrid( — eternally sitti] td unable to make up his mind to get off on on* Here was Mrs. [den, who had had a beautiful shape and express^ 3, full in her youth of life and lire, who ought to have led the g life in London and Paris alternately, riding in a carriage, and llinging money about in the most extravagant, joyous, and good-natured manner — here was Mrs. Iden making butter in a dull farmhouse, and wearing shoe< out at the I So our lives go on, rumble-jumble, like a carrier's 72 AMARYLLIS AT THE FA1 over rata an . ■ s, tliuinj rnnnin - ly on new-mown Bward liki cricket-ball. 1 1 nil hap] i the Tui ^nncr. Another tii rould o of the 11 unma - In London. < tauld littl f of la r F — they ich lu\ t Lavend< r at Tl ' ' : . billing tori . and fraternising in tl . It r hedge. H< • . [den and tl: !.. It in a) ' nder perfni j so 1 :.'■ a damp heet ii his : I thumb in tl. did, ' . with tl :.l v.alnut- . if hi . anything ! 2 ht have left an on to ::. He Baid il cle in< 'I hie ! and I Jen liked W ien to tiki :■ had 1 fond of it, and all the six; carved oak-pi which had be in boyhood were full of a thick re of • plant. AM A. AT THE FA III 73 . while moon bouquel in the wine of ! . hedge of Lavender to plea U wi fully cln b, and watched, that it grew to be the finest lavender in all the countr P( ople used to con: it from round about, quite certain of a I ij ion, i' ir tin-: nothing bo Bure bring peace at Cooml I a mention lavendi But the Letter from the i'l mmas at — fr< m L nd< a, all thai