SJJl FILM Ell HOPEWELL. VILLA GE ANN AL S , CONTAINING 1USTERUS AND HUMAN US V SYMPATHETIC TALK, EMBELLISHED WITH FINE ENGRAVINGS, PHILADELPHIA t PUBLISHED BV JOHNSON & WARNER, No. 117, -MARKET &THEET. Griggs & Dickinsons, Priqterst 1814, VILLAGE ANNALS IT was in that season of the year when nature wears an universal gloom, and the pinching frost arrests the run- ning stream in its course ? and gives a 6 Skaiting. massy solidity to the lake that lately curled with every breeze, that Sir Fil- mer Hopewell, having lost his road in the Dale of Tiviot, was met by two youths that swiftly skimmed the surface of the slippery brook, and sought an antidote against the inclement cold in the wholesome though dangerous exer^ cise of skaiting. Of these hale and ruddy young villagers he enquired his road, or where he might meet with a lodging for the night, for the sun Was declining in the shades of evening fast encompassing the dale. They directed him to the summit of a neighbouring hill, on the declivity of which there stood a small village, where probably r 9 Village Ale-House. he might meet with accommodation Though wearied and fatigued, this in- formation gave him vigour, and he has~ tened up the hill, and soon beheld with pleasure, beheld the sign of the Lion and Dog ; that on a lofty post invited to the village ale-house. He entered it a seasonable and salutary asylum from the wintry blast, and was conducted into a neat little parlour, with a cheer ful fire. Being seated, his host quickly made his appearance, with such refresh - . .ment as his house afforded. Sir Filmer, on his first entering, immediately peiv ceived there was character in his coun tenance ; a quick dark eye and sharp features that gave him that appearance A 2 10 The Landlord. of intellect, which is seldom found to be belied upon further acquaintance. He therefore gave him an invitation to spend an hour or two with him ; which he accepted without hesitation : and after taking a bumper to the health of his guest, entertained him with nurm rous anecdotes of the village. " You must, at this inclement sea son," said Sir Filmer, " witness many scenes of distress, and have many calls upon your humanity." " Yes," replied the worthy man, the tear glistening in his eye, " to weep with those that weep , to lighten the burden of human woe* and to administer comfort to the deject- LI ■ ' i Scenes of distress ed soul, are offices, to the exercise of which, we have frequent calls. Having lived here for some years, and being well known, I am sometimes called to the houses of neighbouring peasants, in which poverty and affliction seem to have taken up their abode ; yet, believe me, sir, I never return from those hou- ses with greater pleasure, or with more heart-felt satisfaction, than when I think I have contributed my share in wiping away the falling tear, or whispering- peace to the troubled breast. " Small, however, sir, as the village is, it produces two characters, as oppo- site almost in their natures, as the dark Two opposite characters. ness of a stormy night is to the splen - dour of meridian day. These charac- ters as they are unknown to you, allow me to introduce to your acquaintance, under the names of Austerus and Hu- manus ; the former a man of callous soul ; the latter one who thinks, and feels while he thinks. " Austerus possesses a fortune of three thousand pounds a-year, has an elegant house, and keeps a large retinue. " His lands yield abundant crops, and his flocks are heard bleating on the neigh bouring hills. His tenants are pretty numerous, and his dependants many. 13 Character of Austerus. " One would imagine," says Sir Fii- mer, " this man was destined by hea- ven, as a blessing to the part of the coun- try in which he lives ; that the families around him, would hail him as their libe- ral benefactor, and that his domestics would bless the hour in which they en- tered his spacious hall." ^ However natural this conclusion, Sir," replied the host, "it is far from being well founded. Extremely pas- sionate, he rages and storms ; and even after the storm has subsided, his face bespeaks the anger which he can ill con- ceal. Sour and austere, haughty and overbearing, he is dreaded by his ser A3 14 Lordly Oppression. vants, and despised by all. His tenants whose lands are rented to the full, bareh subsist, and regret the moment the\ were so un fortunate as to tread the ground of ford oppression ; one of which — poor man ! — how often have I witnessed the tear drop from his eye, on the approach of quarter-day, when, with the spade in his hand, he eeased from toil, to awaken bitter reflections over thtV\ sad state of a destitute family. u But what adds an indelible stain to the character of AuHerus, is that he is hard-hearted to the poor, and unfeeling to the sons of distress. It is a painful truth, that his cane has been lifted tip / L7 Hard Treatment of the Poor. over the head of poverty, as it approach- ed his lordly door to beg a pittance. What ! O hardened Austerus ! were riches given thee to indulge thy pam- pered carcase, and to steel thy heart against thy poorer brethren ? for the shivering beggar at the gate is still thy brother ! u This I have frequently witnessed with a poor old woman, who travels round the country with laces and other little things, and asks the boon of the wealthy, to enable her to exist ; while his children, who dare not, with his knowledge, assist her, let down trifles from their chamber window, to relieve A. 4 18 Distressed Family. this poor old creature, bent with the win- ters that -have past over her head. " Besides the poor, Sir, the afflicted, who are tossed on the bed of Sickness, implore his assistance in vain. Pity is even denied them, " I ventured once to recommend to him a peasant's family, in the neighbour- hood, on whom affliction's rod had sud- denly fallen, by sad accident. As they were boiling their frugal meal of pota- toes, the vessel upset, and scalded the father and one of the children most dreadfully. " While I related these circumstances i 21 Hard Heartedness. to him, a tear, some how or other, had forced its way down my cheek. u He heard me with a shocking in- difference ; said he would think of it, and turned away rudely from me, though I assured him (what was too true, and aggravated his shame) that they resided in a corner of his own estate, and that their situation admitted of no delay. As he retired, I could perceive that he was indignant at my freedom." Here the good landlord's looks be- trayed his detestation of this unfeeling conduct ; and while he thought of the miseries of this unfortunate family, he ■ 22 Pleasures of a Liberal Mind. exclaimed with the patriarch, " Cursed be his anger, for it was fierce ; and his wrath, for it was cruel !" I envv not his crimson bed of state, nor his faring sumptuously every day, while he pos sesses an unfeeling heart and a niggardh soul, " Better (says he) infinitely better, is that man, who, though his share of wealth may be more scanty, is blessed with a noble, a liberal heart; and sufch is Humanus. " Humanus honours me with his ac- quaintance and his confidence. I know his heart and his feelings almost as well as he knows them himself. Descended 25 Character of Humanus. from worthy ancestors, he retains no small portion of their virtues. Possess- ing a moderate fortune, he has no idea of extravagance. He lives in a neat lit- tle house, adjoining a small freehold- farm, which descended to him from his father, and which has been held by one family for many years, at a rent that ena~ bles them to live comfortable, and to till the land with pleasure. Unlike the tenants of Austerus, this family is always cheerful; and the father , while he ploughs his fields, is frequently visited by his little prattlers, whom he looks upon with the greatest pleasure, while he stops his well-fed horses to mount them on his plough. 2b Benignity. " Nor is it only among those with whom Humanus is immediately con- nected, that his benevolence is felt : he seems to walk about doing good, and is never so happy as when he sees all na- ture rejoice, and when, as is his custom, he is seen with his grandson, feeding the parent hen and her chickens : his benign countenance seems to say, The poor and needy, how should I like to shelter you under my wing, as the hen sheltereth her chickens, (i His charity is indeed wonderful. It often puts me to the blush, when I re- flect how far I fall short of it. It was but the other day that he said,