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 THE UNIVERSITY 
 
 OF ILLINOIS 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 823 
 R34.92m 
 
 V.I
 
 THE 
 
 MODEKN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 KUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 
 
 By J. RHYS. 
 
 IN TWO VOLUMES. 
 VOLUME I. 
 
 "l ! ■ '■ > f r - 
 
 ^^^i^a^ Qr ILLINOIS. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 SAUNDEES, OTLEY, AND CO., 
 
 66, BKOOK STEEET, W. 
 
 1868. 
 \_All Rights reserved.^
 
 PRINTED BY J. E. TAYLOR AND CO., 
 LITTLE QUEEN STREET, LINCOLN'S INN FIELDS.
 
 J. 
 
 V. I 
 
 I INTEODUCTION 
 
 Many of England^s rural customs^ with which 
 have been associated the romantic charm and 
 magic spell, since the innovation of railways, an 
 improved education, and a rapidly advancing re- 
 finement, are fast dying out; and it does not 
 require the supernatural powers of the seer to 
 foretell that ere long the English countryman 
 and his customs, as they once existed, will be 
 thought and spoken of, as of the past ; he and 
 his having given place to a difi'erent but more 
 improved modernism. 
 
 In the following reminiscences, the author^s 
 aim has not been so much to bring out, and fully 
 develope, one or more characters or characteristics 
 that may or may not have existed in the genus 
 Homo, as more particularly to introduce, for a 
 
 8 1 3005
 
 IV INTRODDCTTOX. 
 
 little moiueut^ many and varied types of sucli as 
 may yet be found in our beloved England ; and 
 trusting the same may not only prove interesting 
 and amusing; but in some degree instructive 
 likewise^ leave tlie sketclies in the hands of the 
 benevolent reader. 
 
 Lo>'Doy, 1867.
 
 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE, 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 *' I praise a school, as Pope a government, 
 So take my judgment in his language dress'd : 
 Whate'er is best administered is best." 
 
 Coicper. 
 
 *^ BoB^ you shall go to school/^ said his sire one 
 day J after some little puerile delinquency. " You 
 shall go to school I say boy; and we^ll see if 
 they can^t teach you many things you ought to 
 know/^ 
 
 In this manner it was_, that that young urchin^ s 
 mind gradually unfolded to the fact of there 
 existing such an institution as a school^ and 
 which Bob had, in consequence, depicted as a 
 jail, reformatory, or some other similar institu- 
 tion where bad boys were tortured into good 
 ones, and which, as a natural result, he intended 
 avoiding as long as possible. 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 2 THE MODERN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 Bob's sire lived in Wales ; it matters not wlie- 
 tlier North or South ; both are alike picturesque^, 
 both romantic, both excellent for fine scenery, 
 both celebrated for coal, iron, and copper ; both 
 peoples too, naturally talented ; fond of music, 
 poetry, pulpit oratory, and song; both loyal, 
 likewise, since the time of Edward I., who tricked 
 them into a baby prince at Carnarvon, — a joke 
 which they pocketed, and continued good sub- 
 jects always ; both hospitable, vain of pedigree, 
 sentimental, and ambitious of the English lan- 
 guage. 
 
 Bob^s father lived in a retired glen; prided 
 himself in being one-eighth a Welshman, in hav- 
 ing descended from the Welsh princes, in being 
 perfectly learned in his pedigree, and jealous of 
 the same; and here he had retired, in order to 
 enjoy Welsh scenery, Welsh mutton, Welsh eco- 
 nomy, and leeks. 
 
 Here Bob too, disported himself, as the goats 
 and kids upon the mountains, in the happiest 
 state of unrestrained freedom ; roaming in search 
 of the sparrow-hawk^s nest, rabbit burrow, catch- 
 ing the spotted trout ; or, more business bent, 
 mounting his shaggy pony, scoured hiU and dale 
 in search of the goats and ewes, considering each 
 black lamb his own perquisite; and often sigh- 
 ing for Jacobus, or some other trick, that would
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMD^'ISCEXCES. 3 
 
 induce the latter to cast more of the sable in- 
 nocents. 
 
 Bob possessed poultry likewise of every breed ; 
 from the ducks of the Muscovite, to those of 
 Aylesbury; and fowls of Spain, Holland, Cochin 
 China, and Dorking were his; and, as for rabbits 
 and pigeons, no boy was so renowned as he. 
 But other occupations and amusements must 
 now be found for the boy, for he must not only 
 be Anakim in body, but the mind likewise must 
 possess a portion of that quality. 
 
 " So you shall go to school. Bob," said his 
 sire ; " and we^ll see if they can succeed in multi- 
 plying some ideas of worth, and subtracting 
 others of no importance." 
 
 But Bob had not only pictured the school in 
 the unfavourable light, as already seen, but the 
 master likewise; whom he considered the very 
 knight of canes, sticks, and rods, and other in- 
 struments of torture, exceeded only by the in- 
 famous Spanish Inquisition, — a man alike desti- 
 tute of kindness and sympathy; the one to 
 correct his delinquencies with studied exactness, 
 and to put a full-stop to all his frolics and gam- 
 bols; for whenever had an accident happened, 
 or a misfortune occurred, when he had not been 
 threatened with the pedagogue ? 
 
 Bob, indeed, had really magnified the improver 
 
 B 2
 
 4 THE MODE EX PEDAGOGrE ; 
 
 of the understanding into some stalwart giant of 
 punishment, who loved it for its own sake, and 
 whom he intended, if possible, to escape. But 
 Bob might be easily excused for having argued 
 thus, when it is remembered that poets, painters, 
 authors, all have done their best in fostering 
 such ideas ; who, when in want of a subject for 
 their ridicule, have looked round, and pounced at 
 once on old pedagogue as the very right defence- 
 less object, — consequently, he has become the butt 
 of their sarcasm, paint, and wit. Thus, one de- 
 picts him a gluttonous man and winebibber, 
 fallen to sleep one warm afternoon in summer, 
 surrounded by his sharp-eyed youngsters, who 
 make sport of him, during his submission to 
 Morpheus : there stands one, rod in hand, em- 
 blem of fallen greatness; another is thrusting 
 his round little head into the fool's cap, in mock- 
 ery of that capital punishment ; another shoulder- 
 ing the bellows, in imitation of the old gentle- 
 man's performance on the violoncello ; and lastly, 
 another, more daring than the rest, is about to 
 give his wig a decided tug. Alas ! thou mo- 
 narch of absolute authority, that thou shouldst 
 ever become the butt of thy vantage-loving sub- 
 jects ! Again is painted the village school in an 
 uproar, where, it may be presumed, a friend has 
 called in, and taken the master a little moment
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 5 
 
 from his pupils to the '^ Waggon and Horses/' in 
 order to test the celebrated ale of old John Hug- 
 gins ; and here again is depicted a regular juve- 
 nile disturbance. One sarcastically writes — 
 
 " O je who teach the generous youth of nations, 
 France, Holland, Germany, and Spain, 
 I pray ye flog them upon all occasions ; 
 
 It mends their morals — never mind the pain." 
 
 Another — 
 
 " If, shrewd and of a well-constructed brain, 
 Your son comes forth a prodigy of skill, 
 As, wheresoever taught, so framed he will, — 
 The pedagogue, with self-complacent air, 
 Claims more than half the praise as his due share." 
 
 Another — 
 
 " Lands he could measure and the tides presage, 
 And even the story ran, that he could gauge : 
 
 And still they gazed, and still the wonder grew, 
 That one small head could carry all he knew." 
 
 Another has represented the schoolmaster as a 
 being whose greatest dehght consisted in inflict- 
 ing punishment either in, or on the body of his 
 spiritless pupils_, and states that in some deno- 
 minated schools, on certain days of the week, 
 very early in the morning, the poor victims were 
 obliged and compelled to swallow potions of 
 brimstone-and-treacle, thrust down their rejecting 
 throats with wooden spoons ; this, in addition to
 
 6 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 semi- starvation and copious flagellations^ (accord- 
 ing to this authority,) constituted the only fare 
 to be obtained in these so-called schools. ye 
 revilers of the improver of the understanding ! 
 I fear some of you were very indifferent boys at 
 school, — I do fear it. 
 
 How, then, can he, who has taken such an in- 
 dividual for his subject, expect to gain attention ? 
 
 The soldier, describing the scenes of his ne- 
 cessarily romantic life, — the perilous march, ha- 
 rassing night-watch, and daring charge, — would 
 not fail to interest the reader. The sailor, recount- 
 ing his experience upon the sublime but often 
 eccentric ocean, — the storm, the wreck, the 
 barque tossed as a scroll upon the angry billows, 
 with his ultimate deliverance, — would likewise 
 command attention. Or yon indefatigable tra- 
 veller, returned from some before untrodden 
 shores, — relating his hungers, thirsts, colds, 
 heats, with hair-breadth escapes ; from disease, 
 the wild denizens of the forest, or from his fellow- 
 man, more to be dreaded than they, — would 
 prove highly entertaining. But what novelty 
 can there be in the story of a pedagogue ? As 
 well impose upon us say you the history of the 
 unfortunate tradesman striving and toiling with 
 the world and its difficulties, ever and anon gain- 
 ing a momentary ascendency over the same, but
 
 OR, RrSTIC EEMIXISCENCES. 7 
 
 as speedily cast down and vanqiiislied. As well 
 give us, you repeat, tlie tale of some wi^etched 
 needlewoman, wlio knoweth no rest by day, and 
 whose candle goeth not out by night, and whose 
 artistic yalue is too often paid by semi-staryation, 
 disease, and pl%mature death. Or as well en- 
 deavour to interest by the life of the pallid artist, 
 sitting from week to week, and month to month, 
 oyer his stretched canvas in yon secluded attic, 
 abstracted alike in mind and body from the plea- 
 sures, excitements, and passing events of the 
 busy world ; and whose works, perhaps, will not 
 be properly acknowledged until he himself has 
 passed away. 
 
 Well reader, would they speak out, doubtless 
 they could interest, — not, perhaps, by vaunting 
 one bold stroke and laurels won, not one grand 
 coup de main and enemies vanquished, not one 
 contested field, and that crowned wdth victory 
 and posthumous fame ; but a daily, hourly hero- 
 ism, a protracted, patient warfare against nume- 
 rous opposing forces; in the shape of poverty, 
 neglected worth, false friends, and a host of the 
 same category. 
 
 Thus then, we see the unenviable light in 
 which the schoolmaster has been held in days past, 
 by men of superior talent and intellect. Happily, 
 however, for him and his pupils, he is not the
 
 8 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 bugbear as of yore ; but parents wiser in tlieir ge- 
 neratiouj see the policy of predisposing the child 
 in favour of the man from whom they expect him 
 to gain that knowledge^ for which they have to 
 recompense the dispenser. Physical force too, is 
 generally not adopted ; the appeal is not so much 
 made to the back or hand, as in times ihat have 
 gone, but more particularly to the intellectual 
 faculties of the child, as to a being capable of 
 reasoning, and that can be taught to discern the 
 right from the wrong, the wheat from the chaff. 
 The real object of education should not be so 
 much to multiply facts, as more particularly to 
 draw out the pupiPs reasoning powers. It is 
 required also that the schoolmaster be trained 
 for his office, and not a person who has taken up 
 the position as the refuge for the destitute, but 
 one who has properly studied the subject, and 
 has become, as it were, a mental philosopher, in 
 order to work successfully upon the varied mate- 
 rial upon which he may be called to operate, so 
 as to understand the capabilities of, and defaces 
 adapted to, each pupil. 
 
 Were this point regarded even in the manage- 
 ment of the lower animals, so far as insisting that 
 persons entrusted with the care of the same, 
 should be thoroughly acquainted with their na- 
 ture, etc., — speculations in this way would prove
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 9 
 
 far more successful. As it is, such are left gene- 
 rally to the managerQent of the most ignorant of 
 Englishmen, who too often flog when they should 
 caress, — for no other reason than to satisfy a 
 drunken, revengeful disposition, vented upon an 
 innocent and highly sensitive subject. It will be 
 a good day for the brute creation, and a more 
 profitable one for the owners of the same, when 
 the managers of the horse, cow, and sheep, can 
 give satisfactory answers as to their knowledge 
 of the physical and teachable qualities of the ani- 
 mals over which they assume authority. Man 
 should always remember too, that boys are little 
 men, and have in common with their more ma- 
 tured adult, joys and sorrows, clouds and sun- 
 shine ; and, moreover, possess pecuKar observing 
 faculties, and are eagle-eyed with respect to the 
 perfections or otherwise of their elders, whom 
 they often catch tripping, as they relax in their 
 presence. Has not a boy eyes ? Has not a boy 
 ears ? Has not a boy a reserved opinion ? And 
 when we consider rightly of the matter, too, how 
 much more reasonable it appears after all, for age 
 to sympathize with youth, than vice versa ! Age 
 has passed through all the gradations of life, but 
 youth has never been old, and can scarcely be 
 expected to understand its greater pains and 
 sorrows. Man is bom to trouble ; or why these
 
 10 THE MODERX PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 sobs, these swelling tears, chasing each other 
 down the infantas dimpled cheek, or falling on the 
 school-girFs task ? For the want of a little con- 
 sideration in this matter, it is that we too often 
 see the false management of children, and its sad 
 effects. Not unfrequently we observe parents 
 petting their children ; the father the girls, the 
 mother the boys ; the father in his superior wis- 
 dom, and by right of the strongest, considers it 
 right to oblige the boys to obey the little petted 
 girls in every respect. Now had he not forgotten 
 the feehngs of his own boyhood, he would never 
 have made such a mistake, which, for compulsion 
 here being against nature, produces only hostility 
 in the place of love towards the sisters ; but he 
 would rather have appealed to their superior 
 strength and powers ; then there would not have 
 been a wall they would not have scaled in order 
 to regain the truant ball, nor a tree they would 
 not have climbed to free the entangled kite. 
 
 Emma Jane, a beautiful fair-haired girl, came 
 bounding over the lawn, her face beaming and 
 radiant with smiles ; in her hand she grasped a 
 well-assorted bouquet of the sweetest wild- flowers 
 plucked by her own tiny fingers, for the parent 
 she loved ; but to render the offering more ac- 
 ceptable, descended to the kitchen in order to 
 procure an appropriate charger for presenting the
 
 , OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 11 
 
 same upon, but alas ! in returning, her active 
 little foot slipped, the flowers lay scattered in 
 confusion, and, sad catastrophe ! the plate broken 
 in fractions. The mother, rushing out, could di- 
 vine nothing but the weeping child and broken 
 plate, and without divining the angelic cause 
 that led to the direful effect, beat her and sent 
 her sobbing to her room. Oh, what mischief 
 was here accomplished ! That glorious budding 
 mind, throbbing with the highest pulsations of 
 our common humanity, shrank within itself, as 
 the delicate sensitive-plant shrinks from the touch 
 of men. She never brought her mother flowers 
 again ! Let us not consider it too condescending 
 to remember the days of childhood. 
 
 Now Bob, being a born creature, possessed all 
 the properties and propensities common to such, 
 viz. self-will, obstinacy, and all the other phases 
 little man exhibits at diSerent times, so that it 
 was determined he should go to school. It might 
 be also remarked here, that Bob possessed also 
 at an early age the first law of our nature, and 
 could take care of himself when very young-, 
 which fact was forcibly brought to his mind when 
 grown to man^s estate, after having one day re- 
 paired to the insurance office, to have his life 
 insured, as the process is termed, although, as 
 the reader must be, and doubtless is, perfectly
 
 12 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 aware tliat after the ceremony the party most 
 particularly concerned is not more sure, that is, 
 his dear hfe is not more safe, but his friends are 
 sure of receiving no inconsiderable sum, for which 
 he paid compound interest during his vitality. 
 Well, undergoing the usual preliminary medical 
 examination, by the usual medical man, who after 
 inspecting his tongue, feehng his pulse, sounding 
 his chest, inquiring the age of his father and 
 mother, sisters and brothers, alive and dead, — 
 that is, how long had they lived that died, and 
 how long had they been living that were still in 
 the flesh, and how many years since the dead 
 died ; and whether his grandfather and grand- 
 mother on both sides lived to a good old age, 
 and whether the antecedent families for gene- 
 rations had been in any way notorious for any 
 particular disease inherited by them, and which 
 in all probabihty they had left as a legacy to 
 their posterity, — then came the all-important 
 interrogation, " Did you ever have a bone bro- 
 ken V ^Vhich question he answered boldly and 
 confidentially, without hesitation or fear of con- 
 tradiction, in the negative. This answer was 
 observed to give the greatest satisfaction to the 
 M.D., F.E.L.S., F.R.C.S., etc., who at once com- 
 menced writing down his depositions, — having 
 arrived doubtless at the conclusion, that the
 
 OB, RUSTIC EEMINISCENCES. 13 
 
 frame and pillars being sound, tlie building 
 would in all probability stand and pay tlie usual 
 rent for many years. Accordingly, after receiving 
 tlie congratulations of tlie managers on his very 
 excellent constitution, as proved by the medical 
 vouchers, like\vise as to his clearness of percep- 
 tion with respect to life insurance, they parted ; 
 the big man in the red waistcoat giving him a 
 profound salaam and patronizing smile, as he 
 dropped from the steps into the street, in re- 
 cognition, no doubt, of his being one of their 
 tenants, occupying one of his company's houses ; 
 so after this episode he found himself legally and 
 lawfully insured for some hundreds, to be of the 
 greatest use in this ; when he is in that. 
 
 In this manner then it was that Bob, when 
 grown to man's estate, had the important fact of 
 never having had a bone broken brought to his 
 mind, thereby proving his possession of the first 
 law of our nature, and having consequently 
 taken care of himself; but although when a boy, 
 having possessed many physical qualifications, 
 his sire determined as before seen on discovering 
 his mental ones likewise, therefore determined 
 on sending him to school, — so, having found a 
 master after his own heart, Bob in due time went 
 under his tuition. 
 
 Now Bob's first master was a true specimen of
 
 14 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 the old village pedagogue ; who in his earlier 
 years had been in possession of considerable 
 wealth, but having been addicted to the sports 
 of the field, had raced, hunted, and shot away 
 the bulk of his property, almost before becoming 
 master of the same ; consequently he soon found 
 himself penniless, and, as a natural result, friend- 
 less, in comparison with his days of prosperity ; 
 in consequence of which he had placed himself 
 in at that time, the refuge for the destitute, a 
 \nllage school ; expecting and receiving the sup- 
 port and patronage of his married friends, with 
 whom he had been accustomed to amalgamate 
 in his more ambitious days. 
 
 He had been represented to Bob^s sire as a 
 sound good scholar in every respect, and at the 
 same time, as possessing the unusual faculty of 
 writing with his left hand as well as his right, 
 which faculty Bob observed, on closer inspection, 
 arose from a physical defect, he in fact having 
 shot away the two first fingers of his right hand 
 when partridge shooting, so that the right could 
 never be used in the exercise at all, and this cir- 
 cumstance tended to give the left the admired 
 pre-eminence. 
 
 But before entering upon the engagements 
 and requirements of the school. Bob deemed it 
 prudent to ascertain, if possible, the duties and
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 15 
 
 regulations of tlie establislimeiit ; so, having dis- 
 covered a boy by the name of Sparkes, who had 
 gone regularly to the academy for the previous 
 two years, in consequence of his parents having 
 known the master in his more important days — 
 
 " You can^t do better, you can^t do better," 
 said Sparkes, " than come to old PhiPs" (as the 
 boys designated their master, his name being 
 Philip) ; " for," said Sparkes, " if a little late, 
 why it doesn^t signify ; he gives us plenty of holi- 
 days, and the most angry and worst name he 
 ever calls us is ^ sensible fool,^ and we don^t mind 
 that, for he uses it to all alike, without any dis- 
 tinction, and it just means nothing." 
 
 The bill of fare at old Phil's Bob ascertained 
 from Sparkes likewise, which consisted of read- 
 ing, ijlus writing and arithmetic, minus gram- 
 mar, geography, history, etc. etc. ; flogging, too, 
 according to the same authority, was always con- 
 sidered an extra, and seldom resorted to by old 
 Phil. There was, therefore, as much difference be- 
 tween old PhiPs establishment and a fashionable 
 boarding-school as exists between a first-class 
 London hotel and a more lowly eating-house ; in 
 the latter, the call-boy greets the ear on entering 
 with roast beef, ditto mutton, ditto pork, etc. etc., 
 verbally, all in a breath if possible, but then the 
 charge is low, and the juvenile waiter does not
 
 16 THE MODERX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 expect any fee; in the former, the bill stands 
 printed over the mantelpiece, naming all the 
 substantial, as well as the delicacies of the season, 
 but the charge is high, and extras probably will 
 be demanded for plate, etc., and at the end of the 
 discussion, the waiter will not reject, but rather 
 expect, waiter's fees. No; there was nothing 
 superfluous at old Phil's : he possessed no printed 
 circulars with all the 'ologies and 'graphics printed 
 thereon, he acknowledged no cards or letters of 
 reference to doctor this or doctor that ; and at the 
 end of the quarter there were no extras. 
 
 Having, however, obtained all the necessary 
 information, they set out together on the next 
 Monday morning for Bob's first school, some two 
 miles distant, when on crossing through the fields 
 Sparkes commenced : — 
 
 " Now I don't often walk if I can get a lift. 
 There are generally some stray donkeys in the 
 lane, and if we can only come up with them, 
 we'll ride to school ; what de say ? " 
 
 " What ! ride without bridles ? " inquired his 
 companion. 
 
 " What ! can't you ride without holding ?" said 
 Sparkes. " Well, never mind ; look here, I guide 
 mine as the Indian does his elephant, just by the 
 movement or flourish of a little stick." 
 
 " Besides," remarked Bob, " whose donkeys are 
 they ? "
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 17 
 
 ^' Pooli, pooli \" said Sparkes ; '' what is that to 
 us ? I know not to whom the animals belong, and 
 hope I never shall ; but hurrah ! hurrah ! yonder 
 they are, sure enough, cropping the bushes ; but 
 if the cunning brutes see us, they will be off in- 
 deed, like wild asses as they are. Look,^^ he con- 
 tinued j " ni get over the hedge, and go beyond 
 them, you follow quietly up the lane, and when 
 you see me jump over into the road, close up, and 
 we shall have them in a twink.^'' 
 
 Bob followed the instructions, but not without 
 some little doubt and misgiving, when presently, 
 over came Sparkes into the lane ; the animals, see- 
 ing they were entrapped, made up their donkey 
 minds to force the passage and run the gauntlet, 
 but finding the attempt useless, soon gave up the 
 contest. On going up to them, which was a mat- 
 ter of some difficulty, their heads being defended 
 by their heels, the boys caught one each, and 
 mounted, and away the animals scampered like 
 wild asses indeed. Every one accustomed to don- 
 key riding knows the difficulty experienced in 
 keeping his seat sometimes, even when the animal 
 is saddled and bridled, but this difficulty is ne- 
 cessarily enhanced when these adjuncts are want- 
 ing ; however, away they galloped, the free ones 
 at full speed keeping in the van, when presently 
 the whole troop turned short down a narrow and 
 
 VOL. I. c
 
 18 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 steep lane on their right, and at right angles 
 with, the road. Sparkes kept his from following 
 the troop, by the ingenious movement of his 
 stick before the animal's right eye ; but Bob's, 
 oh, help him ! galloped off at full speed with the 
 rest, ever and anon rubbing the rider against one 
 or the other of the fug-itives, and kicking for dear 
 hberty, as they descended the steep incline. The 
 briars and thorns too, at this time, hung in grace- 
 ful festoons over the lane, and nettles and thistles, 
 in rich profusion and wild luxuriance, filled the 
 bordering ditches. The cunning and sagacious 
 brute on which Bob rode, constantly dragged him 
 under the former, in order to bring him from his 
 seat to the latter, — a seat which he would have 
 gladly vacated, had she only given him a mo- 
 ment's time to dismount; but fijiding that in 
 order to get rid of her load, this plan likewise 
 proved unsuccessful, the old hussy set on. an- 
 other tack : still galloping onwards, she com- 
 menced a most violent, determined, diagonal or 
 askew sort of kicking ; right, left, right, left, her 
 heels went into the air. This exercise had the 
 unpleasant effect of throwing the rider from side 
 to side, no sooner recovering himself on the left, 
 than he was thrown to the right, and vice versa 
 again, and then to the shoulders ; when, on ap- 
 proaching the worst and most sudden part of the
 
 b-R, RUSTIC RE]VIINISCENCES. 19 
 
 lane^ Bob saw tliat to keep his seat would be im- 
 possible, so commenced speculating a little on his 
 downward course, when, brush ! he was dashed 
 under a pendent briar, scratching his face, and 
 leaving his cap hanging scarecrow-like in the 
 bushes. 
 
 " Shall I be pitched into that bed of nettles, 
 and stung all over, or shall I be thrown on that 
 hard road, with a broken arm, or skull fractured ?" 
 thought Bob ; when, with a sudden turn, and 
 quick jerk, off he went, into the bed of nettles, 
 and a very uncomfortable bed it proved to be. 
 After falling, the old hussy made him a farewell 
 present, in the shape of a kick, which, missing 
 his pate, caught his shoulder, leaving a black-and- 
 blue mark for many days. Bob^s face was dread- 
 fully stung; the barbed herbs, being well up on 
 the defensive, caused much irritation. However, 
 he made his way back as well as he could to the 
 spot where he left Sparkes, and there he still re- 
 mained, sure enough, holding his donkey, to all 
 appearances, in a very affectionate embrace, his 
 arms being round the animaFs neck, but which 
 turned out to be the result of sheer necessity ; the 
 animal, being bent on following its companions, 
 could not be detained in any other manner. 
 
 '^Well,'^ commenced Sparkes, as Bob ap- 
 proached him, '^ you have got a pretty face, and 
 
 c 2
 
 20 
 
 no mistake ; if old Pliil should see it, I am blessed 
 if lie won't think you have just recovered from 
 the smallpox, or measles, or something of the 
 kind ; but there's one thing to be said, he does 
 not see very clearly, and you being a fresh boy, 
 he can't be certain but that it is not your usual 
 fresh colour. So come along ; but mind, not a 
 word about the asses." 
 
 So having freed the animal, which made off at 
 full speed in the direction of the troop, the boys 
 started on the last mile of their journey, as fast 
 as they could, in order to make up for lost time. 
 On drawing nearer the school, however, Sparkes 
 again quickened his pace, and more and more 
 assumed the appearance of a person full of honest 
 purpose, intent only on business ; but of course, 
 on arriving at the school they were late, but as 
 Sparkes remarked, " Old Phil won't mind that," 
 so it turned out. On entering, Sparkes scratched 
 off his cap in a great hurry, saying at the same 
 time, " Sarven, Sir" (your servant, Sir), — an old 
 mode of salutation at that time, in that place. 
 
 The school-room proved to be an ill-ventilated, 
 low-pitched, oblong building, the walls of which 
 were hung all round with an incongruous melee 
 of slates, caps, dinner-bags, and cloaks; round 
 the desks the boys were sitting in their varied 
 rural costumes ; the fireplace was of the old farm-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 21 
 
 house construction, for tlie purpose of burning 
 wood upon ; and near tMs place of conflagi^tion 
 sat old Phil, with spectacles on nose, making- and 
 mending the goosequill pens, — an occupation, in 
 addition to setting copies, which took up much 
 of the time of the old village schoolmaster. 
 
 There he sat in all his absolute authority, sur- 
 rounded by books and boys, boys and books. 
 The schoolmaster was a short, nervous little man, 
 with white hair, particularly red face, a rather 
 suspiciously swollen nose, a sharp cunning eye, 
 and quick determined voice. 
 
 Bob looked at him with that degree of reve- 
 rence and awe he might have contemplated any 
 other person whom he had been taught to acknow- 
 ledge as his master. Presently, in order to make 
 himself ofificious, Sparkes advanced up to old 
 Phil, saying, as he did so, 
 
 " I have brought a new boy. Sir." 
 
 " Oh, you have brought a new boy, have you?" 
 said the master, looking at the same time very 
 shrewdly over his spectacles ; " and you have 
 been with the asses too, I see," observing the legs 
 of Sparkes^s trousers covered with the animaFs 
 hair, which Sparkes had neglected to brush away. 
 
 Sparkes looked uncomfortable and confused. 
 
 "Well," he continued again, '^1 should have 
 thought you might have come earlier, and shown
 
 1 
 
 22 THE MODEEN PEDAaOGUE ; 
 
 a better example on tlie first morning of your 
 friend^ s appearance ; '^ and, turning to Bob, com- 
 menced at once, ^' And so you are come to school, 
 my lad, and I sincerely hope for the purpose of 
 learning the business of letters. Now you must 
 remember, my lad, that education is a personal 
 thing ; you will have a duty to perform as well as 
 myself; yours will be to learn, mine to teach. 
 Remember, my lad, and as you value knowledge', 
 never to give way to think or utter such ideas as, 
 ^ I can^t do this,^ or ^ I can^t do that,^ but, on the 
 contrary, make up your mind to do anything 
 and everything another boy can.^' 
 
 ^^ Look,^' he continued ; ^^ see that boy, Bunson. 
 When he first entered this place of general edu- 
 cation, this academy of all that is necessary to 
 make a boy wise, — Bunson, I repeat, could not tell 
 how much nine times nine made, but now he can 
 work long sums, now he can compute and calcu- 
 late how many barley-corns it would take to go 
 round the world at the equator, as well as how 
 many farthings would reach from the earth to the 
 sun; and I have little hesitation in saying, that 
 should he go on ex]f)anding his mind in this 
 very remarkable manner, that he will very soon 
 be the first mathematician in the three kingdoms. 
 Bunson, you see, has been very attentive — very 
 attentive, and in this you must imitate him, or I
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 23 
 
 • 
 say tliat you may come liere seven years, week- 
 days and Sundays, and be none the wiser. Unless 
 you give your mind, your attention, your all to 
 this work, you will remain as ignorant, I repeat, 
 as if you had never attended this academy of uni- 
 versal knowledge ; " when, on looking over his 
 spectacles, '^Bunson!^^ he called out, ^'you sen- 
 sible fool ; what are you doing there ?" 
 
 Bunson during this harangue, during this said 
 speech, which old Phil had been in the habit of re- 
 capitulating, with slight additions or subtractions, 
 to every new boy, had been amusing himself and 
 schoolfellows by responding, in voice and gesture, 
 to every word of the well-known effusion. 
 
 " You see that door ? " continued the master. 
 
 Bob answered in the affirmative. 
 
 " Now that has been the door of this school- 
 room ever since the school has been opened ; but 
 what has it profited, I ask, by filling so honour- 
 able a position ? As well might it have been the 
 door of old John Smith's forge ; backwards and 
 forwards, backwards and forwards, it has been 
 going for years ; and so will you, and be as 
 little benefited, unless you give your eyes, your 
 ears, your hands, your mind, your all, mental and 
 physical, to the work; but, on the contrary, if 
 you do so, you will soon be the cleverest boy in 
 the whole school. Now, go and join your school- 
 fellows.''
 
 24 
 
 CHAPTEK II. 
 
 "With his own Hkeness placed on either knee, 
 Indulges all a father's heartfelt glee ; 
 And tells them, as he strokes their silver locks, 
 That they must soon learn Latin — and to box." 
 
 Coioper. 
 
 DuEiNG the delivery of the well-known speech, 
 Bob, as might easily be imagined, was engaged 
 attentively contemplating and scrutinizing his 
 new master, to whom, as before observed, the 
 human face divine appeared red and swollen, 
 and the nose stood out in bold relief, having the 
 same disposition as the face in general; he ob- 
 served, likewise, that his hand shook very much 
 during the process of pen-mending; and now, 
 too, for the first time, discovered that he had lost 
 the two first fingers of his right hand. On 
 his table, in passive amiability, lay a cane, a 
 yard or so in length. Here, thought Bob with 
 a sigh, is an instrument of punishment; may it
 
 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE. 25 
 
 ever lie witli respect to myself, in that dormant 
 state of forgetfulness ! But he soon had the satis- 
 faction of proving that the same was merely em- 
 ployed in striking the desk when talking became 
 too much in the ascendency. 
 
 Analytically and synthetically considering his 
 new master^s features, too, Bob thought he could 
 discover, peering out from under his shaggy eye- 
 brows, a degree of sympathy and benevolence 
 not generally found in the physiognomy of the 
 Mongolian or Malay; in fact. Bob was favour- 
 ably impressed with the visage of his master, and 
 anticipated getting on tolerably well with him. 
 
 Presently old Phil rose from his seat, rubbing 
 his hands, and remarking, at the same time, that 
 since the rain had fallen the cold was rather more 
 than agreeable. 
 
 " Suppose boys, suppose boys,^^ he added, '' we 
 have a little wood fetched ? ^' 
 
 This observation caused a general uproar and 
 confusion in the school, every boy at once voci- 
 ferating, " I, Sir ! I, Sir ! I, Sir ! '' with arms and 
 hands elevated, and each and all standing on the 
 forms, in order to be the more prominently in 
 view, as they volunteered for the honourable em- 
 ployment of wood-carriers. 
 
 " Down, boys ! down, boys! sit down, the whole 
 of you, you young rogues,^^ said the master, at
 
 26 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 the same time striking Ms cane upon the desk, 
 " or not one of you shall go/' 
 
 This at once damped their ardour and cooled 
 their courage; and peace having been restored, 
 five or six of the strongest were selected, Bunson 
 and Sparkes among the number, and off they 
 started in the direction of the wood, leaving many 
 disappointed ones behind, labouring and toiling 
 over their sums, which one and all declared would 
 not agree with the answer. In about an hour 
 and the whole party could again be seen, led by 
 Bunson, issuing from the wood, and descend- 
 ing the hill, each with a load that threatened 
 to block up every road and avenue to and from 
 the school-room ; where, on arriving with the 
 combustible matter, two or three of the boys 
 would set to work making a fire; and never 
 were pupils more delighted than they, when con- 
 templating the blaze created by the fuel, obtained 
 by themselves. 
 
 This was the usual manner in which old Phil 
 supplied himself with caloric matter. And who 
 will find fault with the arrangement ? He liked 
 the plan, and the boys liked it too ; the old man 
 never put item, " firing '^ in the bill ; and if the 
 exercise did not tend to strengthen the mental 
 faculties, no doubt the whole physical powers 
 were brought into action, and, consequently,
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 27 
 
 benefited. These little simple exercises, too, 
 tended to foster a kind and unselfisli disposition 
 amongst tlie boys, and beat down tliat paltry 
 small pride wliicli some were probably indulging 
 in; and this, perhaps, was worth something in 
 after life. And then again, if the pupils did not 
 succeed so well in their studies as could be wished 
 or expected, old Phil possessed a clever manner 
 of sending the fathers home quite comfortable 
 respecting their sons in this respect; for if he 
 could not positively declare that their reading, 
 writing, and figures would one day qualify them 
 for Secretary of State, or something higher if 
 necessary, — he would, at least, make them out 
 future Nelsons, Wellingtons, or some fighting 
 heroes of greater antiquity, for, he would ob- 
 serve, — 
 
 " That son of yours. Sir, that son of yours, is a 
 boy of no small spirit; he^s a genius. Sir, he^s a 
 genius ; there^s something in him. Sir. He can 
 take care of himself, he can take his own part, 
 and no mistake ; he^ll be the one for the world ; 
 he'll be the man by-and-by, to beat down and 
 overcome all opposition, mental and physical. 
 Yes, he'll shine Sir, shine Sir ; he'll be worthy 
 of the stock from which he sprang." 
 
 And away went their sires, quite delighted with 
 their progress, and the prophecy of the seer, (the
 
 28 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGUE j 
 
 wisli being fatlier to the thouglit;,) and quite sa- 
 tisfied tliat one day tlieir sons would make no 
 small stir in the world ; at the same time deter- 
 mining within themselves, to recommend old 
 Phil and his academy to all their friends and 
 neighbours, — he as a man of great acquirements 
 and discernment, and the school the best of aca- 
 demies far and wide. 
 
 No ; old Phil never committed the fatal mistake 
 of discussing and declaring the dullness of any 
 of the pupils to their fathers ; for a clever old man 
 was he ! 
 
 With respect to the fighting abilities of his 
 pupils, the master ascertained the first day of their 
 inauguration, by looking through the window, 
 which commanded the play-ground, or more 
 particularly on such occasions fighting-ground ; 
 for his boys had a system, when a new scholar 
 arrived, to match him at the dinner-hour with 
 another boy of similar size and strength. If the 
 new boy refused to fight, they would command 
 their selected protege to up and give him the 
 coward^ s blow, as they termed it, — the rogues well 
 knowing that such a procedure would soon pro- 
 duce the desired effect, as flesh and blood cannot 
 stand passively and be assailed in this manner, 
 and very little doubt therefore existed that such a 
 proceeding would tend to the desired pugilistic
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 29 
 
 encounter. But if tlie otlier refused to accept the 
 lesson in tlie noble art of self-defence, and deter- 
 mined not to return tlie blow, lie was ever after- 
 wards stigmatized and branded a "coward '^ ; but 
 on tlie contrary, if lie showed great com^age, and 
 fortitude, and the challenger suffered defeat, he 
 then attained a high step in the school, and ob- 
 tained the confidence and respect of the whole. 
 
 All these proceedings old Phil, as before re- 
 marked, observed from his window. 
 
 " Yes," he would say, " yes, there will be war 
 until the rogues know which is best man ; yes, 
 young cocks will fight ; it is all nature, all nature 
 exactly." 
 
 The village in which Bob^s first school was 
 situated, appeared to have been, many antece- 
 dent centuries, a Roman station, as many relics, 
 testifying to the bygone period, could still be 
 found by the industrious antiquarian ; thus, after 
 drenching, washing rains in fields newly turned 
 by the ever-vigilant plough, could be picked up 
 silver and copper coins, bearing the Roman image 
 and superscription, Roman or tessellated pave- 
 ment likewise, of many designs and colours, was 
 constantly being brought to light hj accident, or 
 the more inquisitive proceedings of the lover of 
 antiquities. Surrounding this village, too, stood 
 the ruins of what was once a formidable wall.
 
 30 THE MODERX PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 every stone of whicli had. been cemented toge- 
 ther in the peculiar manner known only to that 
 at once clever and energetic people, refusing to 
 surrender piecemeal to wind and weather, but 
 occasionally falling in huge masses in fields below, 
 and there remaining for an indefinite period. In 
 short, everything in the neighbourhood bore evi- 
 dent tokens that at one time the spot had been 
 the site of a dense and populous town, thronged 
 probably by a gay and animated population, long 
 swept away, and their places occupied by a few im- 
 sentimental unarchaeological agriculturists, think- 
 ing little or nothing of its deeply interesting an- 
 tecedents, caring only for the grateful yield of 
 corn the land seldom failed in retuminsr. Subse- 
 quently to the Eomans, the proud Norman too 
 seemed to have taken a fancy to this locality, and, 
 as was his usual custom, built a strong stone 
 castle on its most elevated position, the ruins of 
 which still stood out in bold relief, silently but 
 eloquently preaching to the passing traveller of 
 the fall of empires, and the state of change to 
 which proud nations have ever been subject. This 
 ruin was usually chosen as the centre of the 
 schools noontide exploits, as now the only inha- 
 bitants of the roofless walls, where once the merry 
 feet of beauty danced, and the heavy tramp of 
 the warrior was heard, were the daw and crow,
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMmiSCENCES. 31 
 
 or solitary owl hooting and moaning in the 
 pale moonlight, — with the exception, however, as 
 was reported, and the boys half believed the 
 legend, that when the antiquary birds were away, 
 the shades of some departed fair and stouter 
 warrior walked the empty halls at the sound of 
 a midnight bell. Often did the pupils ascend 
 the crumbling stone stairs of the tower, covered 
 with the cryptogamia of ages, in order to gain 
 the highest parapet and scale the crumbled walls 
 in search of the nests of the before-named birds. 
 To ascend the building was comparatively an easy 
 task, but to descend quite another matter, the 
 difficulty of which frequently prolonged the dinner 
 hour ; round and round the corkscrew stairs led 
 a well-hole in the centre, without any friendly 
 barrier for support. Well it was the head never 
 turned giddy in the descent, for there stood 
 gaping and yawning a black, apparently bot- 
 tomless chasm, down which a stone ever and anon 
 toppled, causing a stifled, chilling sound below. 
 Again, and again, the boys on reaching terra fir ma 
 declared they would never attempt the ascent any 
 more, — a promise as soon broken, however, the 
 next day. Such an effect had these perambula- 
 tions on the nerves, that they often dreamed the 
 scenes over again, with the accompaniment of 
 falling, going, going, constantly droppiog, but
 
 32 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 never reacliing tlie bottom^ or if so, as on a 
 bed of down. From tbis spot too tbey started 
 tbe bare, in tbe game of ^ hare and bounds/ Bun- 
 son^ s sire was quite a Nimrod, a migbty fox- 
 bunter, bis son, therefore, liked tbe sport, if only 
 in semblance ; taking care always to monopo- 
 lize tbe office of huntsman to himself, by right 
 of the strongest. ^^Here,^^ he would say, "you 
 shall be hare, and you hound, and you whatever 
 you like, but I will be huntsman myself/^ when 
 off would start the hare, in order to hide in the 
 wood or copse, and the hounds soon after out of 
 check, and driven on by Bunson in full cry, over 
 hedge and ditch, field and pasture. It not un- 
 frequently happened that in these sham sports 
 the boys started a real hare, rabbit, or pheasant, 
 which piece of intelligence Bunson was sure to 
 communicate to old Phil, which information the 
 old gentleman devoured with greedy voracity, as 
 he looked over his spectacles, — being very inquisi- 
 tive to know as to a yard or so the exact spot 
 and locality from which the timid quarry sprang, 
 the exact bush or tree near which it passed, its 
 external appearance, and many other particu- 
 lars, evidently of the greatest moment to the 
 master. 
 
 Now Bob and all the boys knew that their 
 master possessed a gun, likewise that he kept
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES; 33 
 
 a little dog of no one particular breed, tied in a 
 corner of the wasKbouse, but ttiat these were 
 ever used, save in the destruction of a water- 
 fowl or winter bird, would have been highly 
 wrong for any pupil to have conjectured. But as 
 before remarked, after the intelligence had been 
 delivered by Bunson, the chief could be observed 
 musing for a while, after which he would com- 
 mence : — 
 
 *' Boys, you have seen a hare to-day, — a real^ 
 harmless, little pussy ?^' 
 
 " Yes, Sir ! yes. Sir ! yes. Sir V 
 
 '^ You saw a hare in the wood ; now mind, don^t 
 go there again, not to the same spot exactly ; if 
 you must go into the wood, keep up the other 
 side. Bunson, you will see to that, will you V 
 
 " Ay, ay, Sir V returned that worthy. 
 
 "Yes, so do; for if the Squire should hear that 
 you disturb the game, why we shall be in a 
 mess in no time. Bunson, I should like to speak 
 with you after school. ^^ 
 
 " Ay, ay. Sir V^ replied that worthy again. 
 
 So things went on at Bob^s first school, varied 
 ever and anon by a friend calling in and taking 
 the master for a little moment to the Dog and 
 Bottle, where, what with narcotic fumes and com- 
 posing glass, the school and its inmates were not 
 unfrequently forgotten by the same. Of course^, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 34 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 on sucli occasions tliere would be for a time a 
 regular juvenile revolution, every member fight- 
 ing for supremacy, wben after sundry skirmishes 
 it would be settled that Bunson, being the stout- 
 est, should take the master^s place, to whom the 
 scholars would quietly submit the rest of the 
 afternoon. But at last it unfortunately hap- 
 pened that the boys of the school and village in 
 general had a serious misunderstanding with 
 the boys from the parish from which Bob and 
 Sparkes came, in consequence of which they 
 found themselves in constant broils, and, being in 
 a minority, not unfrequently coming ofi* worsted. 
 These things gained such a pitch at last that 
 the same could not be settled by mere words. 
 Bob and his companion being dreadfully victi- 
 mized by their schoolfellows. The champion of 
 the village, and one of the scholars likewise, was 
 a short, chubby, big-headed, unmeaning-faced 
 braggart, glorying in the name of Duke, about 
 sixteen years of age, a most consummate coward 
 that ever existed, but somehow or other he prided 
 himself in being the champion of the place, and 
 the superior pugilist in the parish, and so all the 
 boys thought. Likewise now it happened that 
 Sparkes had a brother, personally unknown to 
 Duke, but of whom he had heard much, about his 
 own age, a quick, noble, active fellow, as quiet as
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 35 
 
 a lamb in peace, as noble as a lion in war, to wbom 
 Sparkes related bow Duke and all tbe boys ill- 
 used Mm and bis scboolfellow. To wbicb bis 
 brotber replied, tbat be bad long wisbed to 
 bave a brusb witb tbat crower on bis own dung- 
 bill, so sent bim a cballenge by Sparkes tbe next 
 morning in due form. As Sparkes and Bob pro- 
 ceeded on tbeir journey, Sparkes broke fortb. 
 
 " Won^t my brotber give it Duke, tbat^s all ! I 
 know be will/' 
 
 On entering tbe place of learning, Sparkes 
 made up at once to Duke, and commenced — 
 
 " Duke, my brotber George, any time you like 
 and place you mention, will come and give you 
 a tbrasbing." 
 
 No sooner bad Duke received tbis peculiar ad- 
 dress tban be jumped out of tbe desk, and, 
 clencbing bis fists, said, " Say tbat again, and I 
 will level you/' 
 
 " No I no ! no '/' cried all tbe boys ; ''^ send an 
 answer back, send an answer back, Duke /' feel- 
 ing satisfied tbat tbeir Duke would beat George ; 
 tbe answer being accordingly returned tbat 
 evening by vSparkes, to tbe effect tbat Duke was 
 fully prepared to meet George on tbe following 
 afternoon, at tbe west side of tbe village, under 
 tbe cbestnut-trees known as tbe Tbree Cbam- 
 pions. 
 
 D 2
 
 36 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 George, having received Duke^s reply, threw his 
 cap into the air, leaped from the ground, and 
 appeared as delighted as a candidate going to 
 meet the Prime Minister in order to receive some 
 choice commission. " There is nothing better I 
 have long desired than to meet that boaster on 
 his own ground, that cock on his own dunghill ; 
 •I say, he has been coming the high and mighty 
 too long, a deal,^^ said George. 
 
 Now it so happened, that Duke had been using 
 his influence to get Sparkes and Bob into odium 
 with the owner of the before-mentioned donkeys, 
 whom he professed to know, and had anything 
 happened to the animals, without doubt the boys 
 would have been represented as the authors of 
 the mischief; therefore, in order to defy his op- 
 ponent, George determined on riding the animals 
 up to the schoolroom door, like some mighty 
 conqueror, (barring that such creatures have gene- 
 rally been considered emblems of peace.) As the 
 afternoon advanced, it was not very difficult to 
 observe that Duke felt his position : he looked un- 
 usually pale and excited ; he appeared, likewise, 
 to be much puzzled over his sums ; his writing- 
 book, too, had been blotted in several places, so 
 that old Phil deemed it necessary more than once 
 to call him a " sensible fool -" in fact, Duke ap- 
 peared to be labouring under no little mental
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMIXISCENCES. 37 
 
 anxiety, wluch, in opposition to tlie encourage- 
 ment given him by his seconds, continued to in- 
 crease towards the proposed hour, and little doubt 
 existed that he would have gladly given in, only 
 he well knew the boys — his seconds — would not 
 allow him to indulge in such a cowardly thought. 
 At the hour of 4 p.m., up came George, sure 
 enough, actually riding upon the before-named 
 donkeys, and whose apparition caused the great- 
 est excitement in the school. George looked 
 paler than usual ; but the champion of the village, 
 on seeing him, turned deadly white, having httle 
 calculated that he would have had the impudent 
 daring to enter the village, and with the donkeys 
 too ; but screwing up courage, and without ask- 
 ing leave, rushed out of the school to meet his 
 antagonist. 
 
 '^ Well," commenced George, leisurely folding 
 his arms; "well, Duke, you see I am come." 
 
 '^ Yes,I see you are," replied the champion, '^^and 
 with the donkeys, too, you have no right with." 
 
 " Just so," returned George ; " and more than 
 that, Duke, you shall have them if you can recover 
 them; I will return, and await your presence 
 under the Three Champions." So, turning the 
 animals, away went George in the direction of 
 the aforesaid trees. 
 
 As Duke returned into school, the boys crowded
 
 38 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 round liim, saying, ^' What do you think of him, 
 Duke, eh ? You'll beat him like smoke ; he's not 
 nearly so big as you are ; give him one under 
 and one over in quick time, and you vdll settle 
 him in a twink." But, to judge from appear- 
 ances, Duke could see little smoke or fun in the 
 coming engagement, as he continued quietly 
 gazing for something, which was all the time 
 under his nose, but which his optics stubbornly 
 refused to recognize. 
 
 Old Phil saw and heard all, but for a time said 
 little, and did not even appear to notice what was 
 going on in the room. He knew George very 
 well, from being in the habit of visiting at his 
 father's ; and presently, in quite a confidential 
 manner, spoke to some of the leading boys, say- 
 ing, " Depend upon it, boys ; depend upon it, 
 boys, Duke has this time made a mistake. You 
 may be sure of that, and you'll know presently 
 that I am right. Duke, I say, has underrated his 
 man." 
 
 School over, all the boys made in the direction 
 of the Three Champions, — Duke supported by the 
 whole of the pupils. Bob and Sparkes excepted ; 
 all of whom, as they quickly walked along, were 
 busily engaged giving him what they considered 
 the necessary instructions in the art of self-de- 
 fence, in order to ensure victory. As they ap-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMD^ISCENCES. 39 
 
 proaclied the before-named spot, true enougli, 
 there stood George, standing with the donkeys. 
 
 The afternoon was a pecuUarly sultry one, in 
 the middle of summer. The sun, during the 
 former part of the day, had been shining in his 
 greatest refulgence, but now was nearly hidden 
 from view by a thick hazy curtain, permitting his 
 appearance only in a subdued form, as through a 
 London fog. The swallows industriously skim- 
 ming the surface of the adjacent horsepond, ever 
 and anon dipped their feathers in the water, aa 
 they hawked their tiny prey, and the shrill voice 
 of chanticleer could be heard resounding through 
 the neighbouring rickyard, answering the dis- 
 tant challenger, or his softer chuck, chuck, coax- 
 ing his dames to seek shelter under the bulky 
 wheat-ricks. 
 
 " Now," said George, " take care of the don- 
 keys, and when I have beaten Duke we will ride 
 off in triumph," when at once stepping up to 
 his opponent, observed, ^^Give me your hand, 
 Duke; I owe you no ill-will ;" which Duke refused 
 to do. '^ Very well, then," returned George, ^' it 
 can^t be helped," and at once threw off his 
 jacket, which Duke, on his part, being a long time 
 preparing to do, and which George interpreted as 
 a purposed delay, commenced the fight ; adminis- 
 tering Duke one or two decided blows in the
 
 40 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE j 
 
 vicinity of the nose before lie liad prepared for 
 his defence. Presently, however, Duke became 
 infuriated, and struck out in all directions like a 
 mad bull, without decision or plan, which proved 
 to be nothing more than lost strength, — conse- 
 quently, after a short struggle, gave up the conflict 
 in favour of George, declaring he had had quite 
 enough, which George acknowledged by throwing 
 his cap into the air. George then making up to 
 the seconds, asked them if they were satisfied, 
 which their countenances answered in the nega- 
 tive. The conqueror again threw his cap into the 
 air, at the same time remarking, " Now see you 
 never bring me this way again on the same errand, 
 or it will be the worse for you. Good bye, Duke V' 
 mounted the donkeys, leaving the seconds 
 stanching the blood copiously flowing from Duke^s 
 olfactories, and observing, as he rode away, 
 " They^U be quiet now, you will see ; and as for 
 their champion, I would beat a dozen such any 
 morning before breakfast. Come up, donkeys V' 
 And off galloped the animals at their full speed, 
 George shouting and laughing that he could 
 hardly keep his seat. 
 
 In some spirits there appears to be an uncon- 
 trollable feeling for combat ; fighting is their 
 highest ambition, conquering their greatest good. 
 This feeling shone out in a remarkable manner
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMDOSCENCES. 41 
 
 in the boy to whom allusion lias been made ; noble 
 and generous in the highest degree^ when he had 
 obtained supremacy, yet the love of conquest, 
 the thirst for rule, (although, when obtained, left 
 him amiable and quiet,) made him the object of 
 dread, and a person for ever to be avoided, by 
 some of the inhabitants, especially a few -elderly 
 ladies, who looked upon him in the light of a 
 bulldog, or some other savage animal. 
 
 • On reaching the school the following day, the 
 boys were unusually mute, as if some great ca- 
 lamity had overtaken them. And so it had ; 
 their boasted champion had been beaten. Duke 
 occupied his usual position, having one eye 
 slightly discoloured, and a cut on the upper lip, 
 which marks he was most anxious to hide from 
 Bob and Sparkes. As the day advanced, how- 
 ever, the boys became kind and familiar ; such 
 being the result of this first victory. 
 
 The studies progressed again as usual. Bob^s 
 copy-book, with horse and jockey on the cover, 
 had nearly all the parallels traced ; and long an- 
 terior to this Bob had committed to memory the 
 moral inculcated on the cover under the spirited 
 equestrian, viz. : — 
 
 " They run so long, they run so fast, 
 No wonder they run out at last ; 
 They run in debt, and then to pay, 
 They distance all, and run away."
 
 42 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 In figures^, too^ Bob had reached the all-important 
 rule of simple proportion, disregarding, in some 
 measure, the admonition given and well known 
 to every schoolboy, in the words, — 
 
 " Multiplication is rexatiou, 
 Division twice as bad, 
 The Rule of Three will puzzle me, 
 And Practice drire me mad." 
 
 How much more encouraging are the lines written 
 by another ! 
 
 " Multiplication is elation, 
 Division makes me glad, 
 The Rule of Three it comforts me. 
 And Practice suits this lad." 
 
 There was however, little fear of any of Old 
 Phil^s scholars going mad in this respect, as they 
 observed the caution too particularly for this 
 awful calamity to overtake any of them. 
 
 Bob's friends leaving this part of the country, 
 of course Bob left the school ; shortly after which, 
 information reached them that Old Phil had paid 
 the debt of nature ; and of him it might be truly 
 said, that his failings were not sufficient to eclipse 
 all his perfections. The boys liked him. He 
 possessed a happy manner of making them feel 
 that his business was their business, his under- 
 takings, their undertakings. Of the education 
 much could not be said more than that it was
 
 OE, KUSTIC EEMINISCENCES. 43 
 
 as good as was generally given in country villages 
 for tlie like remuneration. Mucti may be pleaded, 
 too, in excuse, for tlie old pedagogue ; lie, as be- 
 fore seen, liad been possessed of wealth, wliicli, 
 under his management, melted away like snow 
 in harvest, after which greater troubles followed ; 
 in rapid succession, he had followed wife and chil- 
 dren to their last resting-place, till he alone stood 
 in the world a desolate being. Peace to his ashes ! 
 
 From appearances, it might be argued that 
 Duke grew up a confirmed braggart, and George 
 a conquering hero. But the matured tree is not 
 always what it was when a sapling. Duke pro- 
 bably met with trials and misfortunes which bent 
 his will Hke the rough winds the sapling, or like 
 fire the useless ore, for a useful member of so- 
 ciety. George, in like manner perhaps, concen- 
 trated his boundless energies, not in the vulgar 
 pugilist, but as a patriot or philanthropist in the 
 society of which he formed a part. 
 
 It was now for the first time that Bob was 
 about to be made acquainted with that great do- 
 mestic trial termed " moving.^^ His mother and 
 her assistants had been actively engaged for 
 days in making everything uncomfortable that 
 had been comfortable, and putting out of place 
 everything that once acknowledged a where- 
 abouts j so that all day long, Bob wandered up
 
 44 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 and down in search of sometliing lie required, 
 but wliicli had long been placed under the pro- 
 tection of canvas and rope. Cups, glasses, 
 books, pictures, ornaments, all bad disappeared 
 from their accustomed shelves and hooks, and 
 everything became so changed, that even the 
 old cat, on looking round on the walls, could 
 scarcely believe himself to be roaming over the 
 same tenement; and there he would sit for 
 minutes together on one of the chairs, silently 
 puzzling his pussy brains in order if possible to 
 comprehend the general transformation, — failing 
 in which, a subdued and resigned kind of mew 
 would escape from him as he made off into an- 
 other room, to see if the same change had taken 
 place there likewise ; when feeling convinced of 
 the fact, would then give vent to his feelings 
 by a loud " Mow ! mow ! '' as much as to say, 
 " Here's pretty work ; discomfort, Fm sure, Pm 
 certain, is coming on/ Of all domestic animals 
 Puss is the most disturbed by the general con- 
 fusion of moving ; it is not only on leaving 
 the old house, but likewise in taking to the 
 new, that Puss feels seriously annoyed; for 
 weeks he seems determined on not having any- 
 thing to do with the new tenement, and is ever 
 watching an opportunity to make his exit by 
 door, chimney, or window, if happily he might
 
 OE, EUSTIC EEMIXISCEXCES. 45 
 
 find his way back again to the old house at home. 
 CatSj indeed;, are truly domestic animals; they 
 enjoy and very much appreciate domestic com- 
 fort ; they love a nice cheerful fireside^ a clean 
 hearth, polished stove, with Turkey carpet under 
 their velvety feet ; surrounded by such, they will 
 sit and sing away with half closed, dreamy eyes, 
 and grateful-looking countenance, until we al- 
 most begin to feel the same resignation too ; but 
 only let there be discomfort in the family, a little 
 commotion in the domestic arrangements, carpet 
 up, fire out, and Puss is off, in wild affright, to 
 some far less disturbed scenes. Yes, Puss, you 
 are deservedly a domestic pet. What a pity it is 
 that those dreamy eyes, should ever light up with 
 murderous intent and fire at the dear little 
 canary in his cage ! ^Vhat a pity ! that those soft 
 gloved claws, softer than my lady's fingers, 
 should ever send forth such instruments of tor- 
 ture, dyeing the pretty feathers of my frail sing- 
 ing pets in their life-blood ! Oh, Puss, Puss ! 
 after all, you are a subtle paradox. 
 
 But moving-time in the country is a time of 
 trouble, a period of domestic trial ; nothing going 
 on in the usual way, cupboards empty, no cooking, 
 no, — for there is nothing to cook with. But 
 the last night in the old house is the worst by 
 far ; no curtains to your window, no candlestick,
 
 46 
 
 no bedstead but tlie lowly floor, to wliicli you 
 retire at tbe hour of twelve, with the delightful 
 intimation that you must be up and doing again 
 at four, ready for the army of removes expected 
 to clear the house and away soon after six. This 
 is enough to sicken the most change-loving crea- 
 ture in this wide world. But then comes the 
 morning. No water to wash, no towel, no look- 
 ing-glass, no breakfast, but a sort of Passover feast, 
 taken in an erect position. And this confusion, 
 experienced first in the old house, must be ended 
 in the new ; for after days and days of unpack- 
 ing, putting up and pulling down again; after 
 days of screwing, hammering, and carpentering 
 of every description, still there remains some- 
 thing to done ; how can it be otherwise, when all 
 that has been taken down, after years of putting 
 up, must be in their adjusted positions in a few 
 days ? Last scene of all, the multiplicity of broken 
 legs, arms, and other fractures of chairs and 
 tables, broken crockery, crushed boxes, and the 
 like. Talk indeed of washing-day ! why, the 
 comparison bears no analogy to moving-day ; 
 it is like comparing an April shower with a 
 thunderstorm, a cooling breeze to a hurricane ; 
 in short, moving is an incomparable nuisance. 
 Talk of three removes being as bad as a fii^e ! one 
 is a fire itself, bm-ning up, consuming every do-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 47 
 
 mestic comfort in life. Happy, tlirice liappy tlie 
 man wlio can say, " I am living where my father 
 lived, and his father before him,^^ but they moved, 
 having at their back, in order to help them, all the 
 kind feelings and good wishes of their friends and 
 neighbours, who wished them well through this 
 disagreeable business, who hoped the weather 
 would prove fine, with many more hopes and ex- 
 clamations, as "I moved once, I shall never forget 
 that day," and the like. Yes, they moved under 
 a parting shower of good wishes and blessings. 
 
 The furniture having to precede the family 
 many hours, it was deemed advisable that Bob, 
 being a small representative of the family, should 
 join the corjos de chattels ; not that he could do 
 much in the way of luggage-guard, but it ap- 
 peared possible that he might be able to keep 
 the men to time, etc. So, after twenty long 
 country miles, they arrived at last at the river 
 and passage-house, where the whole had to cross 
 in the passage-boat at high-water. 
 
 The men having unloaded the furniture, re- 
 turned again to the last village through which 
 they had passed, in order to refresh themselves 
 and horses, leaving Bob sentry over goods, 
 anxiously awaiting the arrival of the family. 
 
 The river on whose banks the boy now stood, 
 and second to none in interest in the British
 
 48 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 Islands, was at this point, and at high-water, 
 more than a mile in width, but at the ebbing of the 
 tide was left a mere wide, sandy channel, nearly- 
 dry, with the exception of one or two freshwater 
 streams, which at the right moment could be 
 waded with safety by the pedestrian, and the op- 
 posite shore gained. Here, at the return of tide, 
 could be witnessed a grand and magnificent na- 
 tural phenomenon, — proud Neptune, like an abso- 
 lute potentate, coming up from his bed of ocean 
 to confirm his rights, rapidly and more rapidly 
 advancing, in his foaming chariot, with hoary head 
 and threatening roar, as the waters triumphantly 
 swept over sand and rock, disputing with the 
 downward currents their original channels ; and 
 woe to the disputer of their advance ! Many were 
 the legends current of the hollow moans and 
 dying groans of those who had dared to defy the 
 same by remaining too long on the silvery sands, 
 or too late in making the before-named transit. 
 
 This magnificent head of water was not inap- 
 propriately termed by the country people the 
 '' Eacehorse,^' and it was the custom with some 
 of the most daring and clever boatmen to sail 
 down the freshwater courses and meet the ad- 
 vancing swell. This could frequently be success- 
 fully accomplished by the experienced boatmen, 
 by keeping the bows at right angles with the
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 49 
 
 head of tide : but if tlie least acute angle was 
 formed, and the smallest broadside presented, 
 an upset was inevitable. Many are the persons 
 who have recklessly thrown a"way their lives in 
 this manner. 
 
 At the moment Bob arrived, this phenomenon 
 was passing in all its wonted grandeur ; the gulls 
 and crows were screaming in wild excitement as 
 they hovered over the water, and ever and anon 
 swooping into the flood, welcomed its return as 
 the means by which they obtained their slippery 
 prey. 
 
 Hours had now passed, and found Bob still 
 watching the flowing of the tide as it rose higher 
 and higher, until it reached the day's high-water 
 mark. He had seen the passage-boat, with its 
 living freight of men, horses, and bullocks, go 
 and return again, loaded with fresh voyagers from 
 the opposite side, yet his friends came not. On 
 the edge of the river Bob remained stretching his 
 organs of vision to the other side of the water, to 
 him a land of promise, yet wondering what sort 
 of country that would prove itself to be, no one 
 taking any notice of him because he was only a 
 boy. Bob felt his pockets ; they had not been 
 prepared for any emergency, no delay having 
 anticipated. Night rapidly advanced; the sun, 
 having finished his course, had sunk in the west, 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 50 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 and the moon in lier autumnal refulgence had 
 taken up the night-watch. Presently, however, 
 and after several times placing his ear to the 
 ground. Bob to his real delight, heard the sound 
 of horses' feet approaching, and in a few mo- 
 ments his friends hove in sight. It appeared that 
 in one of the country roads, far away from home 
 or dwelling, they had suffered a breakdown, which 
 deranged all their original plans. 
 
 " You can't go over to-night. Sir," said the 
 ferryman to Bob's sire; "it is low water, and 
 tide nearly run out ; there's not the least chance 
 of it." 
 
 " But I must cross," returned Bob's sire ; 
 " friends are awaiting to receive me on the other 
 side, and I have pledged my word to be with 
 them this evening ; and with them I'll be, if I 
 can possibly manage it. Why, man, I have im- 
 portant business to transact in the morning." 
 
 " Ay, ay. Sir, I see it aU," said the ferryman, 
 " but I can't help it ; there's not a sea-dog nor 
 land-lubber that would risk his boat a night like 
 this, and the tide running out strong. Come 
 into the house, and I ^vill see what can be done 
 for you during the night," the man being land- 
 lord as well as ferryman. 
 
 They entered the "Fishing Smack," every room 
 of which appeared choke-full of beer, tobacco-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES . 51 
 
 smoke, and men, the latter of such formidable 
 appearance, and decked out in such semi-aquatic 
 costume, that had any one inquired of Bob their 
 presumed occupation, he would have answered 
 '^ smugglers," as they so very nearly resembled, 
 in his opinion, such characters spoken of by Sir 
 Walter Scott in some of his works. Many were 
 engaged shuffling cards, shaking dice, with other 
 vulgar pastimes ; others were leaning over their 
 chairs, coaxing and flattering their buxom land- 
 lady, all of which she appeared to take in good 
 part, being anxious, in return, to supply their 
 thirsty solicitations. Another member of the 
 party had fixed himself in the chimney-comer, 
 drawling out some sea song, ever and anon com- 
 manding and demanding silence by striking the 
 bottom of the pewter pot against the table. 
 
 '^You canH remain here to-night," said the 
 landlady, who was master and mistress too ; ^' you 
 can^t indeed; I have not beds sufficient. The 
 thing is utterly impossible." 
 
 ^^ Then what is to be done ?" enquired Bob^s 
 sire. ^' Our conveyance has returned, and we 
 are seven miles from the next inn." 
 
 " I can^t help it," answered the woman ; " I 
 don't know, and I don't care ; but to remain here 
 during the night is impossible." 
 
 Neither money nor words were of any avail. 
 
 E 2
 
 62 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 As a last resource he appealed to her motherly- 
 feelings, telling her that his wife travelled with a 
 baby only a month old_, — all with a like success. 
 
 " John/' said she, calling to her husband, 
 '^ you must put the gemman over at low water ; 
 the tide will have run out by nine ; there will be 
 plenty of fresh below passage. Get the boat 
 down there ; they will be able, no doubt, to walk 
 over the half mile of sand." 
 
 And this most obedient, passive apology for a 
 husband consented; and they left with the un- 
 derstanding that the goods and chattels should 
 be forwarded at high-water the next day. 
 
 As they entered the boat, the moon shone 
 kindly upon the water, giving it the appearance 
 of a river of silver. How different, how noble, 
 how unconditional is nature in her benefits, when 
 compared with man ! The rain rains, and the 
 sun shines, on the evil and good alike. The 
 heavens dispense their blessings upon the man 
 who never acknowledges the Author of nature, as 
 well as upon the one who says, " The heavens 
 declare the glory of God,'' etc. etc. Presently, 
 as Bob hung over the boat, and dabbled his hand 
 in the passing water, he heard the man at the 
 helm say, " We'll drop down as near as we can 
 to Black Kock Point; then she won't have so 
 much sand to walk over ;" and in a few moments
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 53 
 
 they landed on tlie Rocks, covered with seaweed, 
 whicli draped the same in graceful and beautiful 
 festoons, but which at the same time rendered 
 them wet, slippery, and disagreeable. 
 
 Having arrived safely, and the road pointed 
 out, the party commenced their troublesome jour- 
 ney of four miles. Bob^s little sisters soon com- 
 menced complaining of feeling tired, and so com- 
 menced crying in chorus, with the exception of 
 the one under Bob^s especial convoy, but who, on 
 kicking against a turf of grass, fell, and on rising 
 joined the general harmony. So on they marched, 
 slowly but not silently ; but no one heard, for in 
 the journey of four miles no one met them, but 
 ever and anon they passed a solitary farm, the in- 
 mates of which were probably dreaming of 
 
 " Crops of hay, and larger bam, 
 To store the grateful yield of com," 
 
 Arrived at the toll-house, which barred the en- 
 trance to their desired haven, the toll- woman, a 
 stout, motherly-looking dame, could be observed 
 in the act of holding a strong argument with a 
 boy with donkey and pots, who, as he leisurely 
 leaned over the same, determined in not being 
 convinced by the lady^s reasoning. The subject 
 of contention appeared to be the propriety or 
 otherwise of the boy paying the extra toll, as she 
 declared it was some miautes past twelve o'clock.
 
 54 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE. 
 
 and therefore lie had. entered on another day, for 
 which the ticket did not serve ; but the boy, on 
 his part, stoutly declared that it wanted some 
 minutes of that fatal hour ; but on hearing the 
 general cry, the subject dropped. As the party 
 drew near the official residence, the mistress ad- 
 vanced toward them, with her expiring oil lamp 
 in hand, which was now only the remains of the 
 light it had once been, and commenced — " What- 
 ever is the matter ? Where are ye coming from 
 — going to — at this late hour ? And that poor 
 woman, too,'' in allusion to Bob's mamma ; 
 " why it will kill her, as sure as can be, right out 
 — that it will, now." 
 
 To whom Bob's sire, tired as he was, briefly 
 related the history -of his nocturnal travels, on 
 which she gave the little ones a cup of cold 
 water ; and having pressed the donkey and pots 
 into the service of the infantry, deposited an equal 
 number on each side, like Gilpin's bottles, to 
 make their balance true. Thus they entered, under 
 cover of the friendly night, the place of their 
 adoption. Bob's mother was taken ill, and her 
 life long despaired of; and the little one who fell 
 took the croup and died, and went to join Him 
 who said, " Suffer little children to come unto 
 me." Weep not for departed infants ; think how 
 many trials, disappointments, and temptations 
 they have escaped.
 
 55 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 " Win her with gifts, if she respect not words ; 
 Dumb jewels often, in their silent kind, 
 More than quick words, do move a woman's mind." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 Having arrived at this place about a fortniglit, 
 and things nearly set in order^ Bob determined 
 upon taking a stroll round the place of his adop- 
 tion, to reconnoitre a little, and make a few ge- 
 neral observations. Now this movement proved 
 the signal for the boys of the town to be on the 
 move, too ; for no sooner had Bob made his ap- 
 pearance, and, quietly wending his way, silently 
 remarking the, to him, new features of his new 
 position, than he observed a big boy approach- 
 ing, bringing with him another little cur of hu- 
 manity, with thick-set features, apple cheeks, and 
 ugly figure. Drawing close up to Bob, the for- 
 mer commenced — ^^ Will you fight him V 
 
 " I don^t know the boy,^^ replied Bob, " and 
 have no particular wish to fight.^^
 
 56 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 "All, well," said the boy, "he^ll fight you, lie 
 says ; and, if you are not a coward, you'll not let 
 him say that long without returning the compli- 
 ment." So saying, he ordered the other up to 
 give him what he termed the coward's blow. 
 Thus, after various similar engagements, with 
 the same results as at old Phil's, Bob's authority 
 became established, and he was permitted to 
 walk the streets unmolested, and join in their 
 games and sports, being deemed a worthy mem- 
 ber of their society. 
 
 I would just remark here that boys, unless 
 properly trained, are frequently void of all feel- 
 ing. There are wolves as well as lambs in every 
 fold; the former possess no sympathy for the 
 latter. This was particularly the case with country 
 boys at this time ; the quiet and inoffensive, but 
 at the same time more intellectual and refined, 
 were held too often in scorn and derision, whilst 
 the mere fighting bully would be looked upon 
 with great admiration and respect. In this 
 manner, at public schools, many a promising, 
 affectionate disposition has been all but ruined. 
 A boy of weak physical constitution is no match 
 for the strong and daring rogues. Under proper 
 care and management, he would likewise probably 
 become equally clever, and attain to any degree 
 of eminence in his studies ; but his weak physical
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 57 
 
 constitution constitutes him sensitive in tlie high- 
 est degree, and the jeers and sarcasms of the 
 young Galiaths wound him to the quick, and 
 render him still more nervous and less competent 
 to pass through his exercises ; for it must not be 
 forgotten that a boy feels tenfold more the con- 
 tempt of his schoolfellows than the reprimand of 
 the master. In the education of boys this point 
 should never be lost sight of by the master, but a 
 watch kept, in order to ascertain if this feeling is 
 being indulged in by any of the pupils toward 
 their schoolfellows, and, if so, eradicated if pos- 
 sible, and replaced by a kind and sympathizing 
 disposition to all around. Of course this point 
 was entirely neglected in schools to which allu- 
 sion has been made, and perhaps rather encou- 
 raged than otherwise. 
 
 In this place it so happened that Bob^s father 
 became acquainted with a countryman and neigh- 
 bour, who, after some little time, professed a 
 sort of friendship for Bob ; but he was a selfish 
 piece of humanity as ever existed. One day, 
 however, he accosted Bob^s sire, in the following 
 manner: — '^ 1 say, Mr. WhatdecaU" (he never 
 remembered names), " that youngster of yours 
 seems a likely lad enough. Perhaps when he^s 
 out of school he wouldn't mind coming into my 
 orchard, and have a bit of fun, picking up apples "
 
 58 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 (he always called work fun when he wanted vo- 
 lunteers), "with two or three more who are 
 coming this evening?^' Having heard of or- 
 chards and apples, neither persuasion nor force 
 were necessary to oblige Bob to enter upon the 
 engagement; for the freedom of the fields was 
 his greatest delight. He would do anything, 
 and go anywhere, to have the opportunity of 
 rambling over broad acres. 
 
 The gentleman who thus addressed Bob's 
 father was called by the country-people "Mr. 
 John.'' Mr. John was the only son of a rich 
 landowner and business man, who had gained the 
 unenviable appellation of "miser" (wretched). 
 He had been married many years when his wife 
 presented him with Mr. John, who was fast now 
 getting into years too, being upwards of fifty; 
 and, as the people remarked, the elder would not 
 be dead whilst the younger was living, — the re- 
 semblance, both physical and mental, being so 
 great. The father of Mr. John was a thin, withered, 
 elderly representative of humanity, usually dressed 
 in black pantaloons and gaiters, from the latter 
 of which the calves had been retreating many 
 years ; low shoes, with silver buckles, grey coat, 
 the whole covered in with a broad-brimmed hat, 
 sufficiently broad to serve the purpose of umbrella 
 or parasol, if necessary. Altogether Mr. John's
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 59 
 
 father would have struck the impartial observer 
 as a spare, contracted man ; and so he was. Now 
 his wife, the mother of Mr. John, having died 
 some years anterior to Bob^s acquaintance with 
 him, and a decent time having elapsed, he, hke 
 many other elderly gentlemen before him, com- 
 menced looking out for a second helpmeet; so 
 after making many long, touching, and eloquent 
 speeches to the surrounding young and fair, and 
 discovering that in consequence of his age, no 
 substantial eflPect was produced in the minds of 
 the independent and wealthy, who, although they 
 would attentively listen to the ready effusions of 
 antiquity, preferred, at the same time, the quick 
 step and glowing cheek of youth, and -shrunk from 
 becoming the nurse of decrepitude and age, prefer- 
 ring rather to be the fosterers of fresh and smil- 
 ing infancy ; so Mr. John^s father turned his at- 
 tention from the parlour of his neighbours to the 
 kitchen, and to his own kitchen, for this desidera- 
 tum. Now there were many advantages in this 
 resolution; distance had for some time been a 
 serious obstacle with him, and walking a trouble- 
 some exercise ; here were only a few descending 
 steps, and there, in all its bright refulgence, was 
 an object in the kitchenmaid; besides, he con- 
 sidered it more than probable, indeed possible, 
 that the kitchenmaid would not refuse to become
 
 60 THE MODERN PEDAaOGUE ; 
 
 mistress of the house in which she had served as 
 maid ; she would in all probability waive the feel- 
 ings of youth for those of ease and plenty^ and to 
 be called Mrs. G,, and to be the honoured, the 
 nearest friend to him, who was once the distant 
 and exacting master; before this, too, the old 
 gentleman had been nearly won by her affection- 
 ate solicitations on his behalf, she having antici- 
 pated every little want, even of the most minute 
 description, — ^his shoes always stood warmed, 
 stockings turned toes inwards, to facilitate the 
 entrance of the foot, hat brushed, bed turned over 
 in the most exact manner, and at the proper time, 
 the kettle stood on the hob, singing away with the 
 most elastic breath, declaring its readiness to pre- 
 pare the comforting glass. In fact, so particular 
 had these kindnesses been, that some ill-natured 
 people said they thought, indeed were certain, 
 that the maid was setting her cap at the master ; 
 and, indeed, the old gentleman himself had been 
 by degrees drawn in, as by a subtle maelstrom, by 
 these little attentions from his kitchen, and at 
 once commenced thinking that he could not do 
 better for his comfort and for her comfort, for 
 his happiness and for her happiness, than make a 
 proposition, declaration, or something of the sort, 
 vnthout delay, — more especially as Bill, the ostler, 
 was already in the field, and was constantly cast-
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMmiSCENCES. 61 
 
 ing sheep^s eyes in the direction of tlie kitchen 
 and its productions. So after much decision and 
 indecision, after much caution, deliberation, and 
 contemplation, which ended in the master be- 
 coming more blind to the maid^s failings, and 
 more enamoured with her virtues, and more in 
 raptures with her physical appearance, — he one 
 day, after admiring her in the kitchen, in the act 
 of making apple-dumplings, trotted up to her and 
 said, " Sally, darling Sally ! will you become my 
 wife, my bosom friend, my other self, dear Sally ? 
 Answer me at once, girl, at once; say yes, say 
 yes \" 
 
 To which Sally replied, "Lor, Sir ! what will 
 folks say ?" 
 
 To which question the master answered, "Never 
 mind, girl ; never mind ; they will soon become 
 used to it and leave off saying /^ and, rising 
 again from his seat, where he had imperceptibly 
 sunk whilst contemplating the maid, demanded, 
 " Answer me, girl ; answer me, — now, now, at 
 once !" 
 
 When the maid, seeing all the advantages of 
 accepting, and the disadvantages of refusing, and 
 considering that there was little danger of Bill, 
 the ostler, drowning or hanging himself in dis- 
 gust at such a proceeding, answered, " Yes, Sir, I 
 will be your lawful wife/''
 
 62 
 
 On whicli tlie old gentleman touched her 
 lovingly under the chin ; administered in a loud 
 and determined manner a kiss, which echoed 
 through the tin dish-covers, entering at number 
 one, the smallest, and never stopping until making 
 its exit through number ten, the largest. 
 
 So, shortly after this little episode, Mr. John 
 found himself in possession of a new mamma-in- 
 law, much younger than himself, and whom he 
 could never be prevailed upon to recognize ; con- 
 sequently, from that time, there was a division in 
 the house of the miser, Mr. John and his wife 
 refusing to agree with Mr. John^s father^ s new 
 and better half. In fact, Mr. John would have 
 left the scene altogether, had it not been that he 
 considered it more prudent to remain near in 
 order to watch his own interests, for, said he, 
 " As father has done one foolish thing, there^s no 
 knowing how soon he may do another. 
 
 Now, as time rolled on, Mr. John's new mamma- 
 in-law presented Mr. John with two half-sisters, 
 whom Mr. John contemptuously designated the 
 '' gals,'' and who, in due time, of course, were sent 
 to one of the first and most fashionable boarding- 
 schools in the neighbourhood, where they were 
 taught all the modern and refined accomplish- 
 ments; whether talented or otherwise, suffice it 
 to say that their Ma', not having had the like ad-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 63 
 
 vantages, was perfectly satisfied with their pro- 
 gress and advancement in the higher branches, 
 because, as she said, they had been taught the 
 same by the best masters and governesses money 
 could command, and, when the young ladies re- 
 turned home to enjoy the usual holidays, she was 
 very particular and exacting that every one, 
 everybody, should commence their names with 
 the prefix Miss ; indeed, she did so herself, by 
 way of example, ignoring for ever the vulgar 
 style of address merely by their nude appellatives. 
 Mr. G., too, purchased for the elder Miss a new 
 piano, which was duly inaugurated in the little 
 parlour; and there the old gentleman would while 
 away many hours, listening to the four new tunes 
 played by his daughter, and which she had learnt 
 before the holidays ; for it was now apparent 
 that the extraordinary shrewdness for business, 
 which had been his distinguishing characteristic, 
 was fast leaving him ; indeed so conspicuous had 
 this feature become, that Mr. John considered it 
 wise to persuade his father to give up the reins 
 of the same to him, in order that the chariot of 
 commerce might not be impeded, but, on the con- 
 trary, driven more swiftly and surely, in which 
 proposition Mr. John^s father acquiesced, so soon 
 as the proper arrangements could be made. Now 
 Mr. John's father always had an antipathy to
 
 64 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 will -making, and when urged to do so by his 
 better half, would answer, " Time enough yet for 
 that, girl; sha^n^t die yet, girl, please God V and 
 the like, as if the act of declaring his last will 
 and testament, as he would wish the same carried 
 out after his time on earth, would hasten his de- 
 parture ; so in fact he had lived to this very uncer- 
 tain age without fulfilling this very important duty. 
 This stubbornness of her lord caused Mr. John's 
 stepmamma much uneasiness and anxious conside- 
 ration, for '^ Who knows," said she, " how my poor 
 girls will fare should anything suddenly happen to 
 their Pa' ?" and so determined on consulting her 
 legal man, as she termed her solicitor, on the 
 subject, who advised her by all means, and with- 
 out delay, to endeavour to prevail on her husband 
 to state to him his last wishes and desires, which 
 he would feel a great pleasure in inscribing at 
 once on parchment, in a safe and indisputable 
 form. So after many long, but soft arguments, in 
 order not to frighten or shock Mr. G.'s nerves, and 
 after receiving the usual answer, " Sha'n't die yet, 
 girl, please God,'' she then and at once appealed 
 to his parental feelings, saying, that if he had 
 no feeling for her, he should remember his duty 
 towards his children, which if not righteously 
 performed in this world, would in all probability 
 render him restless in the next. He consented^
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 65 
 
 on whicli she sent for lier legal man^ who took 
 down his last wishes, in the following tautolo- 
 gical^ but lawful and faithful manner : — 
 
 " I, John G. the elder^ being in the seventy- 
 eighth year of my age, but of sound and perfect 
 mind and memory, but not knowing how soon I 
 might be deprived of both, hereby make and de- 
 clare this my last will and testament. And I 
 hereby declare, that whatever may have been 
 written or spoken by me, at any time, in any 
 place, antecedent to these presents, shall be 
 henceforth and for ever null and void. I hereby 
 leave to my lawful son John, all that messuage 
 and dwelling house, known as my residence 
 these fifty years past, and which is now in the 
 occupation of my said son John ; with cottages, 
 coach-houses, stables, cellars, sheds, closets, at- 
 tached or detached, but belonging thereto ; with 
 all rents, businesses, or emoluments arising there- 
 from. I likewise leave to my son John, all that 
 freehold property known as ' Wisdom^ s Acres ;^ 
 with orchards, fields, paddocks, gardens, build- 
 ings, trees, timbers, sheds, bams, gates, stiles, 
 fences, with whatever shall be found on the pre- 
 mises at my decease ; as horses, cattle, sheep, 
 pigs, mules, asses, poultry, waggons, carts, 
 ploughs, whatever or wherever found on the pre- 
 mises; with rents, businesses, and emoluments 
 
 VOL. I. F
 
 66 THE MODERN PEDAaOGUE ; 
 
 arising therefrom, tlie whole of which property is 
 enclosed in a ring fence, and known as ^Wisdom's 
 Acres/ To my wife Sally, I leave all that fimded 
 property, amounting to £500 per annum, to be 
 for the time present for her and her daughters' 
 especial use, under the management of the trus- 
 tees, but to each of my daughters, on the day of 
 her marriage, shall be paid out of the said funded 
 property one thousand pounds ; and at my wife's 
 death the remaining funded property shall be 
 equally divided between my said daughters ; and 
 in the event of my son John dying ' without male 
 issue and lawful heir,' then the property possessed 
 by him shall in like manner, after his widow, 
 revert to my daughter or daughters, or their pos- 
 terity. 
 
 " Likewise, I declare this my last will and tes- 
 tament, that should my wife Sally think proper 
 in wantonness again to marry ; then, all the said 
 property or properties, left her by me shall at 
 once and from that day revert to my daughter or 
 daughters, as the case may be. And this I de- 
 clare my last will and testament, as witness my 
 hand this 14th day of May, 18 — . 
 " Signed in the presence of — 
 
 ^•'William Lawful, Solicitor. 
 
 ''Henry Cureall, M.D. 
 
 " John Wilson, Friend."
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 67 
 
 No sooner liad the document been signed, than 
 the testator fell into a drowsy swoon, from which it 
 appeared quite evident that the signature had not 
 been obtained any too soon ; for there sat the prin- 
 cipal in the act, quite incompetent for any further 
 mental or bodily exertion. It was evident that the 
 old barque was breaking up, that the voyage of 
 life had nearly ended ; and in a few days the re- 
 mains of Mr. John^s father were carried to their 
 last earthly home, where rich and poor, high and 
 low, master and slave, the oppressor and the op- 
 pressed, meet on equal terms. Go to the grave, 
 proud man ; contemplate it ; consider it well ; and 
 thou shalt learn a lesson of humility. Much 
 worldly pomp and funeral pageantry were called 
 into requisition, to aid in conveying to the tomb 
 all that was mortal of poor Mr. G. Mourners, real 
 and artificial, were not wanting in order to swell 
 the solemn train ; sable plumes and jet capari- 
 soned steeds were likewise brought into action, in 
 order to render the obsequies more imposing. 
 But during this ado with the dead and perishing 
 body, the soul, the spirit, that never-dying intel- 
 ligence, was alive and active ; during this display 
 and exhibition of the unconscious casket, the 
 jewel, that brilliant relic, more precious than a 
 thousand worlds, was still sentient; the spirit, 
 the only important part of man, had fled from 
 
 f2
 
 68 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 this, but was alive, active, and more than ever 
 intelligent ; where ? 
 
 But the widow, or widder, (as Mr. John now 
 designated kis step-mamma,) some time before 
 Mr. G.^s decease lived with her husband and 
 daughters in a pretty modern villa, some short 
 distance from Mr. John^s, and which residence 
 she had furnished with the most modem and 
 fashionable furniture that could be obtained, for, 
 said Mrs. G., " I don^t care a straw for the old 
 dusty, rusty, musty, fusty, antique chairs and 
 tables, covered with the dirt and mildew of some 
 fifty years of vulgar business ;" she did not care 
 a rap, she repeated, for the old English oak, and 
 made little opposition to Mr. John retaining the 
 old clock and weather-glass, and a few other 
 friends, with which he had been associated from 
 a boy ; she merely snapped her fingers and struck 
 her pocket, at the same time remarking, " Ma- 
 hogany and walnut are far more genteel." She 
 also kept two servant-maids, to whom she exhi- 
 bited a distant and haughty bearing, remember- 
 ing that when in a like position, her master kept 
 but one of the class, and declared, when com- 
 plaining of their shortcomings, that " were it not 
 for the gentility of the thing, she would not sufi'er 
 one of the lazy crew near her ; but gentility," she 
 observed, " must be kept up. And then again,"
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 69 
 
 slie continued, "there are the Miss Gr/s, who are 
 now learning all the accomplishments, therefore 
 cannot be expected to lend a hand in household 
 duties ; indeed, the Miss G/s must not be per- 
 mitted to do any such thing, for if such were al- 
 lowed, away would fly all their gentility, which 
 had cost so much to acquire. And then, poor dear 
 girls,^^ she remarked with a becoming sigh, " the 
 time is fast approaching when they must be 
 thinking of suitable matches, and it would shock 
 any genteel young man to observe an awkward 
 walk, or press a hard hand, and then their pro- 
 spects would be blighted for ever, and they might 
 in all probability,^^ she observed, "remain as 
 long unmarried as she had herself; and it had 
 always been her maxim, to get young people 
 early engaged, for it interested her much to ob- 
 serve young folks walking together for a year or 
 two in love, then the young man, really and 
 truly stepping up to the mark, full of honourable 
 intentions, naming the happy day ; all this, she 
 remarked, caused a stir, and looked highly gen- 
 teel. I know," she added, " that the late Mr. G. 
 never agreed with such appearances ; but then, 
 poor dear, he lived in far less showy times, and 
 Ms youth had been spent in dull money-getting 
 business, and he, poor dear, experienced a diffi- 
 culty in coming up to the genteel ; he never could
 
 70 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 be made to understand parties and company, 
 witli all the other refined doings of the present 
 day ; no, all he knew, poor dear man, was how to 
 get money, not how to spend it in a refined and 
 rational manner/^ And so the widow proceeded, 
 determining on being very fashionable, and very 
 genteel. 
 
 Mr. John's business continued prolific, and his- 
 fields and orchards grateful in the highest degree. 
 There were no drawbacks, in the fehape of rents, 
 mortgages, or anything whatever ; but this is not 
 a state of unalloyed happiness, and so Mr. John 
 experienced. He did not trouble much about the 
 widder and the gals ; but there was one thing 
 that did trouble him, and that most sorely and 
 constantly ; it was, as it were, for ever staring him 
 in the face, and all owing to one little clause in 
 his father's will, had it not been for which, he 
 did not know a drawback to his complete hap- 
 piness. 
 
 Yes, reader, at present Mr. John had no son, 
 no heir ; and however preposterous it may appear 
 to you, however absurd the idea may appear, there 
 is a feeling in man, that delights him to think 
 that when he can hold on no longer to the things 
 of this life, he has some one of his own name 
 and nature to leave them to, and to perpetuate 
 his memory. Such feeling had Mr. John ; but
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 71 
 
 he had no son ; and as he passed the widow^s 
 cottage every day, at the usual hour, dressed in 
 the usual dress of gabardine, leathern buskins, 
 and napless hat, in order to inspect his orchards, 
 he fancied he heard a soft voice, issuing from the 
 crevices of the window, saying, " Yes, girls, per- 
 haps those very fields and orchards will one day 
 be yours.^' Thoughts like these were spears and 
 daggers to Mr. John, and he would press his 
 teeth, jerk his head, and rub his hands nervously 
 together, as he hastened his speed, repeating as 
 he did so, '^ No, they sha^n't ; no, they sha^n't ; 
 not a stick or stone on^t, if I can help it.^^ In 
 the same manner, too, he would perambulate his 
 fields, accompanied by his two canine friends, 
 his constant companions, calculating his profits, 
 and projecting his plans, when suddenly he would 
 stop, and beating the air with his hand, com- 
 mence, '' Why, how odd it seems ! My father had 
 a son, and his father had a son ; the property has 
 been in our name from time immemorial, but 
 here it ends ; I have no son, no, I have no heir ; 
 true enough, it must now depart, now pass to 
 new names. Shocking ! terrible ! I can^t bear 
 the idea, I hate the thought ; it makes me angry ; 
 it is too much to be endured.^^ After many years' 
 musing in this way, fortune appeared about to 
 favour him even in this particular, for there was
 
 72 THE MODERN PEDAaOGTJE ; 
 
 unmistakeable evidence, so the story ran, that 
 very soon preparations would have to be made at 
 Mr. John's for the reception of a little stranger, — 
 that very soon would have to be called into action 
 the whole retinue of welcoming friends, — as 
 nurses, doctors, and gossips, — to meet on some 
 auspicious morn a little addition, who in due 
 time arrived, and whom we shall dare to call 
 ^' Little Uncertainty/' A comet is an uncertainty, 
 because we know not the time when, nor the 
 place whence it comes ; the wind is an uncer- 
 tainty, because it bloweth where it listeth, appa- 
 rently obeying no settled laws of nature, as the 
 tides, planets, and the like. So we make bold 
 to designate Mr. John's baby, " Little Uncer- 
 tainty," because he came when all thoughts of 
 such an advent had been given up ; yes, came to 
 smile on Mr. John, and call him father, and not 
 only a baby ; but a real son and heir ; yes, an in- 
 disputable heir to " Wisdom's Acres." 
 
 " I'm glad on't, I'm glad on't," said Mr. John, 
 '' because this nicks the widder ; she can't ride 
 the high oss now, she won't be able to give that 
 confounded sneer as I pass her willa ; and if so, 
 what care I ? It's all right now, I say ; the widder 
 and the gals shall never have a stick or stone 
 on't ; no, they are nicked, they are done. Now 
 I'll plant trees, I'll rebuild the old barn, I'll put a
 
 OK, RUSTIC EEMINISCENCES. 73 
 
 new fence round Wisdom^s Acres ; everything 
 necessary shall now be accomplislied/^ 
 
 The thick cloud that overshadowed Mr. John's 
 path had passed away — and been dispersed by a 
 little son. 
 
 The news spread like wildfire ; numbers came 
 to congratulate Mr. John on the birth of an heir ; 
 the three bells in the tower were set ringing ; 
 and in the evening Mr. John mai'ched off to the 
 Fox and Hounds, to receive again the congratu- 
 lations of his friends and neighbours ; and what 
 with proposing toasts, and returning thanks for 
 the same, combined with the excellent punch and 
 the narcotic fumes, by the time the clock struck 
 the hour of ten, Mr. John had become quite 
 headified ; in fact, on no former occasion had he 
 ever been so overwhelmed ; and at twelve, in 
 company with his friends, made his way home as 
 well as could have been expected on such an oc- 
 casion. 
 
 But during this ado and excitement there lay 
 Little Uncertainty, quite unconscious of all the 
 rejoicings and festivities that greeted his birth. 
 There he lay, a small lump of humanity, with 
 large head, full face, and flat features, void of 
 any particular characteristic appearance, waiting 
 for old Time to add his distinctive lineamental 
 touches ; there he lay, looking vacantly at the
 
 74 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 ceiling, and thrusting, after many failures, his 
 little chubby fists into his toothless little mouth ; 
 there he lay, similar to the young hippopotamus 
 when first brought to this country, expanding 
 and fattening by the plentiful supply of nourish- 
 ment purveyed for him by Dame Nature ; there 
 he lay, ever and anon varying the scene by an 
 occasional small cry, which the M.D. declared 
 tended to expand the lungs and strengthen the 
 chest. But his own mother kindly undertook to 
 be his nurse; she never thought of answering 
 one of the advertisements which frequently ap- 
 pear in the ^ Times,^ from persons anxious to 
 become foster-mothers, and who are over-careful 
 to particularize in minutiae. Surely ladies re- 
 quiring the assistance of such individuals to help 
 them do that which Nature intended should be 
 done by themselves, would be satisfied with a far 
 less description, less degrading to the advertiser, 
 and more in unison with the more refined feel- 
 ings of the employer. There he lay, watched by 
 the anxious mother, who patiently waited the 
 dawning of the first beam of intelligence mani- 
 fested in first recognition of her who bore him ; 
 there he lay, innocent and helpless, as had all 
 men before him, the great and small, rich and 
 poor, learned and illiterate, courageous and cow- 
 ardly j the Caesars, the Alexanders, the WelHng-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 75 
 
 tons, tlie Nelsons, tlie Shakspeares, the Hum- 
 boldts, tlie Newtons. Wliat a deal of thought 
 and speculation might be spent on an infant ! 
 The bud is beautiful, what will be the flower ? 
 Will it exhale a sweet perfume, or noxious va- 
 pour ? Will it, like the beauteous rose, smell 
 sweet, even in decay; or like the fabled upas, 
 spread around a deadly poisonous malaria? 
 Will he be a patriot, a philanthropist, or the 
 scourge of his fellow -man ? Will he be honour- 
 able or dishonourable, honest or dishonest, intel- 
 lectual or stupid ? Will he advance to the high- 
 est pinnacle of human worth, or sink to the lowest 
 depths of degradation ? Will he die the death of 
 the just and righteous, or the degraded, cast out, 
 unfriended criminal ? Let us not ignore these 
 thoughts ! all grades are human ; all co-existing 
 numbers are found in every rank. Yon poor 
 wretched, friendless convict, awaiting the awful 
 moment in yonder cell, to whom every tick of 
 the clock proves a source of terror, as it imper- 
 ceptibly warns him of the shortness of life ; and 
 starting and springing at the sound of his chain, 
 or the crack of his door, expecting the dread 
 executioner to fulfil the law^s last demand upon 
 him, — was once a beautiful, lovely, interesting in- 
 fant, fondled and cherished by an indulgent and 
 proud mother. He was that ; but now is this !
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 " Beau marked my unsuccessful pains 
 "With fixed considerate face, 
 And puzzling set his puppy brains 
 To comprehend the case." 
 
 Cotnper. 
 
 But ^Ir. John considered Sundays and week- 
 days much, in the same light. " He never' d kept 
 Sunda' (Sunday) clothes/' he observed, as he 
 seldom went to church, having left the care of 
 his future in the hands of the pa'son (parson), to 
 whom he prided himself in paying regular and 
 full tithes. " Religion/' he remarked, '^ he con- 
 sidered only fit for poor imbecile men, weak 
 women, and little children ; but for men of busi- 
 ness, for money-making, the system was entirely 
 at variance, not at aU adapted to that end, but 
 quite the contrary. He could not see why his 
 neighbour Browne should not keep open his 
 shop, at any rate before church on Sunday morn-
 
 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE. 77 
 
 ings ; he could not see why " Remember the 
 Sabbath-day to keep it holy " should not be in- 
 fringed, not considering that the infringement of 
 one would argue the infringement of the whole ; 
 and that " Thou shalt not steal '' would soon 
 mean only a little, and so on through the whole 
 Decalogue. This was a sort of ignorant daring 
 that suited Mr. John^s tastes and habits exceed- 
 ingly, — little thinking at the same time, of the 
 loss he was sustaining, and what a robber he was 
 of his own spiritual happiness. In this respect, 
 in the midst of his plenty, Mr. John was far more 
 to be pitied than the poor Indian, who believes 
 and trusts in a long and happy futurity. It must 
 be so; the soul of man is ordained for a far 
 higher existence ; the things of this life are 
 merely toys and baubles, and can never satisfy an 
 intelligent being, constituted to be the companion 
 of angels, the guest of the highest intelligences ; 
 for such to be satisfied in this way would re- 
 semble a person travelling to some beautiful and 
 lovely city, in order to view its grandeur and en- 
 joy its society, but lingers on the road that leads 
 to the same, overcome by the flowers and trifles 
 by which the banks are ornamented. Without this 
 glorious anticipation, if all his thoughts are re- 
 duced to, and concentrated upon, the small un- 
 satisfactory toys of this passing scene, intended
 
 78 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 merely as the road to another and far better, — 
 then having assumed a false position, the man in 
 the midst of his so-called plenty remains misera- 
 ble and unhappy. However some may stifle the 
 feeling", all have implanted in them the idea and 
 desire at times, for something superior to the 
 present. The untaught heathen exhibits this in 
 a degree. Is he satisfied with his present hunt- 
 ing, fishing, and warlike excitements ? No ; he 
 sometimes longs after the unseen, the supernatu- 
 ral and immortal; which he, in his ignorance, 
 construes and embodies in natural and tangible 
 objects; as the sun and moon, the thunder^ s roar 
 or lightning^s flash ; and to these his fancied ob- 
 jects pays his regular devotions : 
 
 " Lo the poor Indian, whose xintutored mind, 
 Sees God in clouds, and hears him in the wind." 
 
 Yes, and in these his deities he trusts, as 
 having the power to transport him, after his pre- 
 sent existence, to happier joys ; which his con- 
 tracted imagination has depicted as fairer hunt- 
 ing-grounds; elysian fields; a wider and less con- 
 fined state; a state of immortality ! Man, where- 
 ever found, does not believe in annihilation ! 
 
 Now, as before remarked, Mr. John was con- 
 stantly attended in his peregrinations by two 
 canine friends, who were ever ready to do his
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 79 
 
 bidding and obey his orders ; they were indeed 
 dogs worthy of the master, and so he thought ; 
 but, at the same time, the dread of every small 
 cur and little urchin; and every grimalkin flew 
 at their approach, in wild excitement, known by 
 their vehement barking, and the occasional scream 
 of a luckless victim, swept down in their journeys 
 to or from Wisdom^s Acres. 
 
 The smaller dog was a little rough terrier, 
 whose countenance betrayed a full development 
 of the lower and more sensual faculties, without 
 possessing the least proof of their being governed 
 in any way by the superior and more intellectual. 
 He was a sly, mean, malevolent, quarrelsome 
 little whelp that ever followed the heel of a 
 master, and which bore the name of ^' Snarl. ^' 
 The other was a long-bodied, strong-built, liver- 
 coloured brute, of savage aspect, of no one 
 particular breed ; but possessing the nature and 
 qualities of bloodhound and lurcher; so that 
 in the manufacture of this article Mr. John had 
 to him two very essential qualities combined, 
 viz. savageness and speed. This combination 
 bore the appropriate name of " Panther,^^ in short 
 " Pan ;" she was the most ill-natured animal that 
 could well be conceived, and the only dog Bob 
 ever knew that after weeks of his profiered friend- 
 ship, would treat all his advances with a studied
 
 80 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 contempt^ and tlireateii with a show of her teeth 
 the attempted caress. As before remarked, this 
 pair of quadrupeds were the terror of the neigh- 
 bourhood. The little Snarl would be sure to pick 
 a quarrel with some one or something ; and when 
 in danger of being worsted, Pan would come 
 sweeping down like an avalanche, making short 
 work of the business. These propensities, how- 
 ever, evidently pleased the owner exceedingly, 
 and at times afforded him much amusement. 
 But they had made themselves many enemies, 
 some of whom were unmarried ladies, who were 
 constantly wishing and hoping that something 
 might suddenly happen to the pests, as they de- 
 signated them, and the whole town rid of such a 
 public nuisance; for, as before remarked, these 
 animals were dreadful enemies to pet cats; and 
 when Puss, as was her usual custom in the sum- 
 mer afternoon, sat at the door enjoying the sun, 
 and observing the passers to and fro, away would 
 come the dogs with their usual sweep, and one 
 day in this manner Pan caught Miss Jeff^s black 
 Tom Sambo by the neck, and severed his spine in 
 an instant. Another charge against this animal 
 was, that she one day caught Miss Tomkins^s 
 pet cat Ralph ; and had it not been for his power- 
 ful claws, which he dug into the eyes of his 
 enemy, he would most certainly have lost his
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 81 
 
 life ; as it was, however, lie only lost his tail, 
 whicli ornamental appendage he lamented to his 
 dying day. But perhaps the most serious charge 
 the ladies had against Pan was, that she had 
 taken a favourite pug-dog, belonging to Miss 
 Knight, by the scruff of the neck, and held him 
 in the river till quite dead. This Pan really did. 
 But so far as Pan was concerned, the ladies were 
 harmless enemies ; but she had a deadly foe in 
 the person of the great man^s keeper, who had 
 long owed her a bill which, he observed, he was 
 most anxious to settle ; Pan, on the contrary, 
 being quite as anxious not to come to any formal 
 payment. 
 
 Pan was also the dread of all boys. Bob not 
 excepted in this particular, and in this she much 
 resembled her master. Often when left alone 
 in the orchard, Mr. John gone into the shed or 
 up into the hay-loft. Pan would keep moving 
 round Bob as if on sentry ; go ever and anon 
 staring him in the face, as much as to say, 
 " What do you here V and every moment he 
 expected her at his throat, and a great relief it 
 was to see Mr. John^s buskins and the tail of his 
 gabardine, as he descended the ladder again. 
 To endeavour to make friends with her was, as 
 before stated, entirely useless. She, as her master 
 said, hated boys ; and as she and her leader walked 
 
 VOL. i; G
 
 82 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 to the orcliard every morning, in order to see if they 
 could catch any of the race, he would say, ''Pan, 
 we^ll catch the rogues, won^t we, girl ? we'll have 
 them presently/' Pan would jump round in a sort 
 of centrifugal twist, barking and rejoicing, as much 
 as to say, "Yes, Master, I am ready, I am ready/' 
 Now, as before remarked, Mr. John was fond 
 of this dog, but universally hated boys. So one 
 day he came to Bob, and in a very formal and 
 solemn manner, commenced, ''Youngster, you 
 see that dog ?" pointing to Pan. Bob answered 
 in the affirmative. "Well, then," said he, "I never 
 saw anything with fur on that that quadruped 
 was ever afraid on ; but as for man, she is a re- 
 gular man-hater ; and boy-eater. Yes, boys," 
 said he, looking very evil ; " she would swallow 
 them whole if she could, she would turn them 
 inside out, and outside in again, like an eel-skin 
 
 or an old stocking, she would, upon my , I'll 
 
 be if she wouldn't." He need not have 
 
 added that, for Bob believed every word of it, 
 but sometimes doubted whether he possessed that 
 better part of man. If he had said too upon my 
 body, Bob would have understood him imme- 
 diately, for there really was six feet of the tan- 
 gible substance before him in all its physical 
 importance. But this, he said, like many per- 
 sons who, feeling the weakness of their argu-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 83 
 
 ment, make up for tlie same by creating awe. 
 " Look/' lie continued, " at these teeth," at the 
 same time opening her jaws with his broad hands, 
 much in the same manner that Van Amburgh the 
 lions ; '' there are cutters for you, that would se- 
 parate steel ; here are tearers for you, before which 
 leather would be as rags ; and as for her grinders, 
 why, they are harder than the nether millstone ; 
 bones would be crushed like reeds by them. 
 This is the crettur, this the locomotive, this the 
 moving trap that I shall let loose on any boys 
 I catch bird's-nesting, nutting, blackberrying, 
 appling, mushrooming, or any I catch playing at 
 that infernal game called ^hare and hounds,' 
 jumping over my hedges and ditches." This 
 he said, not that he had any fear of Bob trans- 
 gressing in this particular ; Bob knew too well the 
 quahties of Pan for this mistake, but it was in- 
 tended as a sidewind, to blow Mr. John's resolu- 
 tion and determination to the rest of the race, 
 whom he could never reach with his voice. 
 
 But poor Pan's days were numbered. The 
 subtle keeper before alluded to had been on the 
 watch some time, expecting in all probability that 
 she would be tempted one day to follow the hare 
 or rabbit off Wisdom's Acres, on to the property 
 of his master ; and very soon this misfortune ac- 
 tually occurred; she, in full cry, followed the 
 
 g2
 
 84 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 game into a little copse^ known as Nut -crack 
 Bourn, wherej on rounding an aged beecli, where 
 the keeper lay in ambush, he, without any feel- 
 ing of sorrow or remorse, with steady hand and 
 truer eye, stretched poor Pan dead under a noble 
 oak, the leaden messenger having entered her 
 heart ; and after giving a slight turn of the eye 
 and movement of the tail, as she observed little 
 Snarl in full retreat, with one struggle expired. 
 But the little bully Snarl, the first to commence 
 the fatal hunt, returned to the orchard with com- 
 pressed tail and chap-fallen countenance, ever 
 and anon turning in the direction of the said 
 catastrophe, which told Mr. John too plainly that 
 Pan had met her fate. Yet he hoped for the best, 
 as he awaited her return, with little Snarl, lying 
 at his feet, looking in the direction of Nut-crack 
 Bourn ; thinking that perhaps she might yet re- 
 turn, with nimble feet and pendent tongue. Snarl 
 ever and anon giving a small whine, then rising 
 up would sniff the ground, take a few paces to 
 and fro, and again another suppressed whine, 
 which rose from the very depths of his body. 
 But Pan came not, and Httle Snarl mourned as 
 one who had lost a protector indeed. The con- 
 firmed tidings at length reached Mr. John, and 
 every one remarked that they had never seen 
 him so cut up under any circumstances. " Yes,^'
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 85 
 
 he repeated, as lie walked home ; " poor Pan ! 
 thou wast indeed an excellent crettur, thy like I 
 shall never see again ; thy feet were swift to 
 do my bidding ; thy full-cry note to me was the 
 sweetest music ; thy enemies hated thee, and well 
 they might, for fawning to strangers was not thy 
 defect, and fear never made thy acquaintance/' 
 
 During Mr. John's lamentation over Pan, the 
 boys, however, and plus-meridian ladies in par- 
 ticular, were quietly rejoicing over her sudden 
 demise. The ladies remarked that the execu- 
 tioner deserved a name, a remembrance never to 
 be forgotten in the annals of modern heroism. 
 '' To think,'' said they, " that he should have 
 succeeded so well not only in shooting the pest, 
 but killing her quite dead ! " 
 
 "Yes," said Miss Tomkins, "the bloodthirsty 
 savage that severed my poor Ralph's tail, making 
 him go mourning all his days ; that useful and 
 ornamental appendage. Oh ! I am so glad, I 
 feel quite delighted, as glad as if any one had 
 left me a little fortune ; in fact, I feel in ecstasies 
 at the result." 
 
 " Yes, indeed," said Miss Jeff; " it is not long 
 since that cruel, that detestable, that voracious 
 creature cracked my poor Sambo's spine, causing 
 his immediate death. Poor thing ! what he must 
 have suffered in those few moments, no tongue
 
 86 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 can tell. I almost fancy I liear tlie smashing of 
 his bones now, poor dear; but tlie cruel fiend 
 bas met ber turn at last now. Yes, tbese tbings 
 will come bome, sure to come bome.'^ 
 
 " Do you remember ?^^ commenced Miss Knigbt, 
 " wben tbat relentless, cruel, awful, ob ! wbat 
 sball I say, wbelp, drowned my dear, dear, dar- 
 ling Pug by bolding bim in tbe borsepond V\ 
 (Miss Knigbt wept.) " Dear ! dear ! dear ! sucb 
 a wretcb as tbat, sucb a serpent I scarcely ever 
 saw or beard of; and tbis I say, tbat tbe good 
 man wbo relieved tbe town of sucb a scourge 
 deserves well of bis country, and ougbt imme- 
 diately to bave a medal presented to bim by tbe 
 Royal Humane Society ; for wbo knows but tbat 
 sucb a demon would one day transfer ber glut 
 from poor dear dumb tbings to some dear inno- 
 cent little cbild ? I say. Miss Jeff, tbat a public 
 subscription sbould at once be entered into, 
 and tbe amount presented to tbe dear man in 
 public, as an example wortby of imitation by 
 otber young men, to encourage tbem in display- 
 ing like fortitude on like occasions." 
 
 Tbe boys were tbunder struck ! So mucb as- 
 tonished were tbey, tbat for a time tbey scarcely 
 said anything, but merely looked at each other in 
 amazement, for they never doubted but that Pan, 
 so renowned, would run any gauntlet, free from
 
 OR, RrSTIC REMINISCENCES. 87 
 
 every danger, and although glad in themselves 
 that Pan was out of the way, yet felt a degree of 
 awe, when thinking over the circumstance, more 
 than might have been imagined. Then one would 
 commence — 
 
 " I say, Charley, won't Mr. John be sorry, eh ? 
 he'll never get another dog like that ; do you re- 
 member how soon she caught the hare in the 
 orchard ? And do you remember the day she 
 caught and killed the badger ? " 
 
 "Yes, yes, yes,'' said Sammy Small; '^and 
 when she tore down Billy Jenkins, and ripped up 
 his trousers, — oh my ! didn't he holler ? didn't he 
 shout ? That cost Mr. John five pounds for the 
 doctor." 
 
 "Yes," said Teddy Wilks; "and don't you 
 
 remember when she drowned Miss Knight's poor, 
 
 poor little pug, by holding him under the water ?" 
 
 At which reminiscence, the whole burst out 
 
 into a fit of laughter they could not well restrain, 
 
 but not sufficiently loud for the said lady to hear. 
 
 Still, as before remarked, they were glad she 
 
 was gone; for now Wisdom's Acres could be 
 
 crossed without fear ; they could cut across the 
 
 orchards without danger. But boys are peculiar 
 
 beings, they admire a courageous and savage 
 
 animal; boys respect that they fear most, and 
 
 after all, they would much rather have heard that
 
 88 
 
 Pan had been secured by a louof stout cliain, tban 
 that she had been swept off the face of the earth 
 by the rude hand of the keeper. So they ended 
 the painful subject by repeating^ " Mr. John will 
 never have her like again.^^ And in this Mr. 
 John agreed with them. And the only consola- 
 tion he could get, was in admiring her likeness 
 hanging over his parlour mantelpiece, she and 
 little Snarl, taken by the local artist, some months 
 anterior to the fatal termination, just in the act 
 of leavino' home for the morninor detour. 
 
 " Yes,^^ said Mr. John, as he contemplated the 
 likeness, "it is much like her indeed; there is 
 that beautiful interesting scowl on the coun- 
 tenance, that pretty rising of the upper lip, ex- 
 hibiting her snowy ivories; that frown means 
 courage, and no friendship to intruders. Pan, 
 Pan, I shall never see thy like again V^ 
 
 Soon, however, Mr. John was observed again, 
 at the usual time, in the usual dress, wending his 
 way to the fields, accompanied by little Snarl 
 only, who, now that his second was gone, behaved 
 himself in a much more polite and becoming 
 manner, on passing through the \allage. As 
 master and dog, passed, however, the boys would 
 stop their play, and observe to each other the ab- 
 sence of Pan; the ladies likewise to whom we 
 have alluded, would stop their knitting, and peep-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REIIIXISCENCES. 89 
 
 ing from beliind tlieir ^vindow curtains^ in order 
 to have ocular demonstration of the fact^ would 
 then return from the windows with uplifted 
 hands, repeating, " ''Tis true, ^tis true ! Panther is 
 dead, Panther is dead ! " 
 
 Well would it be however, if the game and its 
 protecting laws ended only in the death of an oc- 
 casional dog ; this, alas ! is not the case. Mr. 
 John's dog was killed, and there was an end, so 
 far, to the business. Pan had broken the law, and 
 died a traitor's death. Mr. John stood in this re- 
 spect in rather an awkward position, his small 
 portion of land, known as Wisdom's Acres, being 
 surrounded by the great man's thousand hides ; in 
 fact, he was entirely insulated by his more wealthy 
 neighbour, who had taken every means, fair and 
 foul, to oblige Mr. John to part with this pro- 
 perty j it stood in the midst of his great neigh- 
 bour's property, a great eyesore, preventing him 
 standing and observing to his friends, as he swept 
 his arm and cast his eyes across the boundless 
 tract, " I am monarch of all I survey." Here he 
 was obliged, in strict honesty, to introduce the 
 clause, " except that farm yonder ;" therefore it 
 was, he wanted Mr. John to sell it to him ; which 
 reason made !Mr. John, on the contrary, more de- 
 sirous than ever to keep the property, and indeed, 
 according to his father's will, it would have been
 
 90 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 attended with mucli difficulty to make arrange- 
 ments for disposing of Wisdom^s Acres. Tlie 
 game, too, of his neighbour was constantly pass- 
 ing into Wisdom's Acres, and Mr. John strictly 
 prohibited any one following the same ; but never 
 scrupled to destroy the trespassers himself; so 
 by these many little misunderstandings, the land- 
 owners became very unpopular with each other, 
 which eventually ended in the death of Pan. 
 
 What misery does covetousness and a large 
 eye create ! Russia makes war on Turkey, making 
 the refusal of a paltry key the excuse, involving 
 England, France, and others, in an endless ex- 
 pense, and to mourn the loss of their bravest 
 sons, consumed in checking her voracious appe- 
 tite. It is the fable of the wolf and lamb acted 
 over again. 
 
 Well would it be, I repeat, did the game laws 
 end only in the death of an occasional dumb ani- 
 mal; but unfortunately, this is not the case. 
 Many, very many, are the men who have lost 
 their lives, or been sent across the ocean, as the 
 result of the game laws. 
 
 Perhaps the reader might be tempted to view 
 all poachers in the light of highwaymen, robbers, 
 murderers, etc. Not so; many of them passed 
 in rural society for respectable men; many of them, 
 in fact, were young farmers, but following a false
 
 OR, RUSTIC EEMTN'ISCEXCES. 91 
 
 line of reasoning, a mistaken tKread of argument, 
 had persuaded themselves that game should be 
 free for all, upon which frail foundation they acted. 
 Undoubtedly such might be the case under diffe- 
 rent circumstances, for instance, in the wild and 
 unclaimed wastes of Africa or America, where 
 the animals are free, and no law protects them ; 
 but in this country the case bears no compari- 
 son. In England every rood of ground acknow- 
 ledges its owner, who has a perfect right to keep 
 thereon whatever animals he pleases, and no one 
 should find fault with his arrangement in this 
 respect, so long as he keeps them on his own 
 estate ; and more than this ; he has a law to pro- 
 tect him in so doing; the knowledge of this 
 alone should be sufficient to curb the feelings from 
 wishing to indulge in this unlawful excitement, 
 as the breaking of the law will, sooner or later, 
 be paid with the greatest retribution ; besides, as 
 the law exists, the breaking of the same will be 
 attended with bad moral effect ; it is an outrage 
 on the law of our country, which, as good citizens, 
 we are botmd to obey. Poaching renders a man 
 less disposed to obey any law ; in short, it is a 
 downward step in morality, and for what ? Merely 
 a paltry hare or bird ; for which the poacher more 
 or less neglects his business ; and by practising 
 which, his wife and family are constantly kept in
 
 yZ THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 a state of alarm and terror. Is it worth, the night 
 watchings ; the deep and carefully -laid schemes to 
 frustrate the scrutiny of the keepers ? Is it any 
 wonder a mind so trained, when a ruined home 
 and family stare him in the face^ or, game fail- 
 ing, that the poacher resorts to some other yet 
 more dishonest means of support ? The game 
 laws are doubtless odious, and a good thing would 
 it be were they expunged from England's code, 
 rendering men less ambitious to find excitement 
 in that which they are denied. 
 
 Not far from this spot took place that memo- 
 rable encounter between the poachers and keepers, 
 which at first created the greatest excitement, 
 but subsequently, the deepest gloom, throughout 
 the country. It appears a notorious poacher had 
 been caught by the keepers, committed, sentenced, 
 and at last transported to Botany Bay ; his asso- 
 ciates, considering the punishment too severe, de- 
 termined on being openly revenged on his in- 
 formers and prosecutors, and resolved the same 
 should take place at midnight in the month of 
 January, 18 — , before which, they decided on 
 sending a letter to the noble lord, the master of 
 the keepers, which read as follows : — 
 
 " West Wood, January, 18 — . 
 
 '^ My Lord, 
 
 " We, the undersigned, feeling greatly ag-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 93 
 
 grieved at your late conduct, respecting one of 
 our number, a professed poaclier, otherwise an 
 honest man, named TVilliam Townsend, who has 
 left a wife and six children in this country to 
 mourn his absence, — we have determined to re- 
 venge his punishment, not by slaying one head 
 of game merely, but a hundredfold ; this we will 
 not do secretly, but apprise your lordship of the 
 fact. This night, at the midnight hour, with the 
 slaughtered game, in the middle of West Wood, 
 under the clump of trees, well known to your 
 Lordship by the title of the ^ Seven Saxons,^ at 
 the hour of twelve, we may be found. Look vou 
 out your most valiant and gallant keepers ; let 
 them come and take from us that game which in 
 this country is monopolized by your lordship, but 
 which God intends for all. 
 
 " (Signed) John Hardmax, , ^ 
 
 ' Leaders.^ 
 
 Tho:mas Fearles
 
 94 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 " Alas, poor country ! 
 Almost afraid to know itself; 
 It cannot be called our country 
 But our grave." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 The principal keeper, having collected his men, 
 commenced the journey ; when, after having ad- 
 vanced many miles through narrow defiles and 
 dark and dirty lanes, arrived at last within the 
 vicinity of the well-known wood mentioned in the 
 letter. The wood being belted round with thorns, 
 briars, and other brushwood, woven together with 
 the parasitical plants of ages, presented an almost 
 impenetrable barrier to the ambitious explorer; 
 and it was with the greatest difficulty the men 
 forced a passage through this natural fortifica- 
 tion; and not, indeed, without suffering some 
 severe scratches and fractures from the over- 
 hanging thorns and dog-roses. On entering.
 
 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE. 95 
 
 however, the road became somewhat more open, 
 and travelling less fatiguing to the keepers. 
 Presently, their leader broke silence by observing, 
 
 ^^ Methinks we have got in at the wrong side, 
 it seems to me a mighty long way to the ' Seven 
 Saxons j' methinks we should have entered at 
 the north end, but my head and eyes are mighty 
 dizzy to-night ; don^t seem to know the place as 
 I ought, somehows. The moon will be up a little 
 more presently a may be, and we shall get on 
 better.'' 
 
 A little further, and by the light of the moon, 
 could be seen the ^' Seven Saxons/' towering 
 high and nobly above the surrounding forests, 
 like huge giants, overtopping the pigmy inha- 
 bitants of the endless wilderness. 
 
 " A few moments more, and we shall be right 
 on 'um," said the leader. 
 
 The rest made no reply. 
 
 " Hush ! hark ! " said the leader again ; ^' I 
 think I hear the sound of voices carried along on 
 the wind. Hark ! I hear it again. It is as from 
 fellows merry with wine. Halt ! " 
 
 The keepers, after the first sound of the dis- 
 tant enemy, sat down on the stump of an aged 
 oak, and calmly refreshed themselves with a little 
 brandy and oat cake, pro voided by each in his 
 pocket.
 
 96 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 " Now put your lieads down to the ground^ 
 and listen if you can make anything out they are 
 saying/' said the head keeper. " Well, what do 
 ye hear V he inquired again. 
 
 " Nothing ; can make nothing out they are 
 saying ; they seem mighty merry, all talking and 
 laughing together, bother to ''urn ! These, sure, 
 can't be the men that are expecting a deadly en- 
 counter ; these can't be the fellows we are to take 
 bound to the castle, as me lord said; I wish 
 mightily me lord could hear 'um ; now I do." 
 
 " Put your ear down to the ground again,'' 
 said the keeper. "Eh, what? Can't make any- 
 thing out ; a mixture of voices, all talking to- 
 gether as before. Ah, I see, too far off; we'll 
 advance closer to the spot. Advance ! Hullo, 
 Spring, what are you a'ter there, starting in that 
 fool's way ? " inquired the head keeper again. 
 
 " Oh ! nothing ; nothing ; I only thought I saw 
 something, a hare or rabbit, may be; nothing 
 more, nothing more." 
 
 " Thought thou sidst something, indeed," said 
 the leader. " Depend upon it. Spring, thou wilt 
 never see anything worse than thyself." 
 
 " Well, Smigs," said the keeper again, " and 
 what the tarnations are you a'ter there, tumbling 
 about as if drunk or shot ? " 
 
 "Why, I only caught my foot in a rabbit's
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 97 
 
 hole; notliing more, nothing more/^ said 
 Smigs. 
 
 " What^s that ? '^ inquired the foreman again. 
 
 " Only an old owl/^ replied his second ; " got a 
 nest in that hollow tree, 1 reckon.^^ 
 
 But the journey through the wood proved long 
 and tiresome ; and when the moon submerged 
 herself, as she frequently did, the road became 
 somewhat intricate and uncertain. 
 
 "Hold!'' said the leader; "there they are, 
 and no mistake. Yes, there I see one of the 
 rascals moving about with a drinking-horn in 
 his hand, the rest are sitting in a circle. Get 
 up on this stump," he continued, "and you will 
 see them too. Bother the fellows ! I thought, 
 upon my life now, that they were hoaxing on us, 
 I did, but it looks a mighty deal more than that 
 now. Do you all see ? '' he inquired. 
 
 " Yes, we all see,'' responded the rest. 
 
 " Now, then," he commenced again, " are you 
 all ready, guns and pistols loaded, and swords by 
 your sides ? " 
 
 " All ready," replied the men. 
 
 " Then be firm and bold," said the chief; " show 
 your courage ; depend upon it, it is no trick, but 
 they mean all they said in that there letter to me 
 lord. I wish the postman had lost it on the road, 
 I do; but now on we must go; no flinching; 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 98 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 either tliey or we must be beaten ; blood will 
 flow this nighty but the most active and courage- 
 ous will be the victors. Onward ! onward then ! 
 march boldly _, but mind^, let theirs be the first 
 shot; then^ after I have ordered them to sur- 
 render, up and take ^um, dead or alive. Now 
 then I repeat, onward, march boldly to the Seven 
 Saxons ! ^^ and in a few moments the keepers were 
 in full view of the poachers. 
 
 True too true, there they were. It was no hol- 
 low boast, no childish deception, but action, real 
 action ; there they were, surrounded by a huge 
 heap of game, consisting of hares, pheasants, and 
 partridges, taken in their nocturnal enterprise. 
 The poachers, a bold, stalwart set of men, were 
 dressed in the usual velveteen shooting-jackets 
 (over which their shot-belts and powder-flasks 
 were crossed), flat felt hats, and leathern buskins 
 completed their attire. Their faces were dis- 
 figured ; and their guns lay, for the time, harm- 
 lessly by their sides ; in addition to which,- a brace 
 of pistols peered out significantly from their waist- 
 belts. One of them, the captain of the gang, 
 was engaged filling a horn from a bottle which 
 he handed to his companions. 
 
 " The time is up,^^ he commenced ; " will they 
 forget the hour, delay the moments ? ^^ 
 
 And as the horn passed, they swore allegiance
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 99 
 
 to each other, and determined opposition to the 
 game laws. 
 
 "We swear/^ said the captain, taking the 
 horn, " we swear to be one in body, one in mind, 
 one in action; never to flinch or fly, so long as 
 one of our number is exposed to danger.'^ 
 
 " We swear ! ^^ responded the rest. 
 
 "We swear/^ he continued, "to oppose, now 
 and for ever, the obnoxious game laws ; and to 
 put down every opposition in this discharge of 
 our duty.^^ 
 
 "We swear ! " responded the rest. 
 
 " Gentlemen,^^ he commenced, again taking 
 the horn, " this is a prelude to a very uncertain 
 sequel ; but I say — and you will all respond — 
 Success to the enterprise ! " 
 
 " Success to the enterprise ! Success to the 
 enterprise ! " responded the whole. After which 
 they joined in a verse of the poachers^ chorus, 
 as follows — 
 
 " One in body, one in mind, 
 We the poachers are resign' d ; 
 Keepers come, your rights maintain, 
 The poachers never will complain." 
 
 fC 
 
 Hark ! Listen ! Hark ! ^^ said the speaker 
 again ; " I hear the approach of footsteps. Did 
 you not hear the crackling of thorns ? Hush ! 
 I hear it again. Hurrah ! hmTah ! They come ! 
 
 h2
 
 100 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 they come ! they are here ! Gentlemen, to your 
 feet ! to yonr arms ! Eli, there ! who advances ?" 
 
 '^We/' commenced the keeper, "are the au- 
 thorized preservers of the game belonging to the 
 noble lord our master, who, through us, de- 
 mands that you and your party will at once sur- 
 render." 
 
 " Indeed ! " commenced the poacher ; ^' in- 
 deed ! Thy lord and master, thy absolute despotic 
 governor, demands by you — his vassal slaves — 
 that we shall one and all surrender, eh ? Hark 
 ye, man; think you your lord and master saw 
 any indecision, any tameness, irresolution, or 
 weakness in that epistle received by him from us 
 this day, that he has resolved — the poor resolve — 
 of sending you, his wretched crawling depen- 
 dants, — more cringing than the reptile worm that 
 crawls at evening in the public path ? The reptile 
 worm would turn, where you would siuk lower 
 and still lower in mean submission. You resem- 
 ble more the miserable, hungry, ill-used hound, 
 crouching and sinking at his oppressor's feet. 
 Like him, you would lick the hand that whipped 
 you sore. Surrender to you, eh ? Why came he 
 not himself? Why heard we not his powerful 
 and elastic voice, echoing through the natural 
 caves and arches of this noble wood, the word 
 ' Surrender ! ' That voice which makes you start
 
 OK, RUSriC REMINISCENCES. 101 
 
 and tremble, miglit well be heard again. Why 
 came he not himself? He heads the hunt, he 
 slays the cunning fox ; the death ' Whoo-hoop !^ 
 is heard proceeding from his lungs throughout 
 yon hill and dale. He kills his feathered subjects 
 without scruple; in multitudes they fall un- 
 heeded ; the timid hare is stretched by him, with- 
 out a thought, upon her native turf. Ay, mark 
 me, man, the timid hare knows no revenge ; the 
 golden-painted pheasant is merely a pet toy, he 
 kills at pleasure ; and Reynard sly escapes, per- 
 chance he may, the piercing eye of his pursuer. 
 Here's no return, no strife, no warm exciting 
 conflict, but cold — cold death. Tour noble lord 
 bids me, and all of us, surrender. Shrouded in 
 yonder castle walls secure, he hurls his edicts 
 forth, as well he may, being safe from every 
 harm, ^^y came he not this night ? Did the 
 soft bed, with purple canopy, entice him to be 
 wise ? Or did he see a conflict too severe for his 
 weak nerves ? See you this heap of game ? It's 
 not long since it was nominally his, your noble 
 lord's, but now, it's really ours. They were all 
 tame things ; they fired no shot, they struck no 
 blow, but quietly yielded up their Hves to their 
 superior — man. Your noble master thinks per- 
 haps we much resemble them; but know full 
 well, the hands that brought them low can well
 
 102 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 resist in their defence. Advance, I say, no 
 furtlier, if you value life ; if any dear in this wide 
 world, if any wife be waiting tliy return, and 
 cliildren lisp tliy name, and long to grasp tliy 
 knees; if thou hast not thy last fond wishes 
 made, advance, — I say, no further ! Behold those 
 aged trees, those hearts of oak, o'ercanopying 
 our heads ! Thou knowest they are strong ; but 
 underneath their limbs, are hearts more stout 
 than they, that tremble not, but will hold out in 
 opposition to the very death. Advance, I say, 
 advance no further ; or, by the light of yon pale 
 moon, before she sinks in yonder pillowy horizon, 
 you will, like her, go out.'^ 
 
 " Fire ! fire V The order is obeyed. Bang, 
 bang, bang ! crack, crack, crack ! The wood 
 resounds, and echo sends it back ; all is in com- 
 motion ; the fox has left his lair, and barking 
 seeks the repose of the adjoining copse; the 
 quick vibrations of the pheasant^s pinions are 
 heard, as he wings his way to the opposite wood ; 
 the owl and nighthawk encourage their mates 
 with wild scream to hasten from the scene of con- 
 flict. But the head keeper fell not ! a little sap- 
 ling birch received the charge too well aimed at 
 him. Flash, flash ! bang, bang ! the whole force 
 is again engaged. Two keepers have fallen, 
 mortally wounded, and others severely. The
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 103 
 
 poechers, too, are sadly suffering, and many liave 
 fallen to rise no more, after exhibiting bravery 
 worthy a better and more glorious cause, but 
 fighting with the desperation of despair, prove 
 themselves too strong; the keepers acknowledge 
 the unequal contest, they retire, each party car- 
 rying away his dead and wounded. And the 
 next day the remaining poachers surrender to 
 take their chance of trial. 
 
 Reader, this is no fiction, no conjured imagi- 
 nation of the brain ; but at the foundation of this 
 tragedy are facts, stubborn facts ; and often, the 
 head keeper before alluded to, then an old and 
 infirm man, has directed the author^ s boyish at- 
 tention to the sapling hanging horizontally over 
 his mantelpiece, perforated with the charge, on 
 which he looked with the greatest gratitude and 
 veneration, as the means, in the hands of Provi- 
 dence, by which his life was reserved. 
 
 The sentence having been pronounced, the 
 poacher to whom we have frequently alluded 
 requested permission to speak, which request 
 having been granted, commenced, '' My lord and 
 gentlemen of the jury, you have this day done 
 your duty, and upheld the laws of your country. 
 I am justly sentenced, having been the leader of 
 this fatal opposition, in consequence of which 
 valuable and important lives have been sacrificed.
 
 104 THE MODERX PEDAGOGUE j 
 
 I know not whether I actually took anotller^s life ; 
 in tke excitement and confusion of tlie moment 
 it would be impossible for me to saj ; if so, may 
 He forgive me before whose just and impartial 
 tribunal you are about to plunge me ! But this I 
 say, as I am about to leave this world, that I 
 would not be one of twelve honest men to carry 
 out such measures, nor the judge to condemn 
 such prisoners. This, gentlemen, is all I have to 
 advance ; may my death, with those of others, 
 ring through old England, country of my birth 
 and death, and sap the foundation of these ac- 
 cursed laws !" The poacher and another com- 
 panion were soon after executed, in the county 
 town, in the presence of numerous spectators, 
 whose sympathies were heartfelt. 
 
 Soon after the death of Pan, Mr. John called 
 on Bob^s father, commencing, " I say, Mr. What- 
 decall,^' — for, as before remarked, he could never 
 remember names, — " I think 1 heard you say one 
 day that you wanted to sell a oss ; now, as I 
 am going to Chipton fair on Monday, to buy a 
 few score ship if I can get them cheap, if you 
 will send the youngster we^ll ride together, and 
 ni sell the OSS for you, and then maybe like, 
 he^ll help me home with the sheep, should I buy 
 some.-*' So the business was settled, which was 
 anything but agreeable news to Bob, as the horse
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 105 
 
 alluded to had been an especial favourite with his 
 young master^ having been in the habit of exhi- 
 biting great sagacity^ and remarkable docility. 
 The morning having arrived, Bob mounted his 
 willing steed, as he anticipated, for the last time. 
 "Little do you think/' thought Bob as he mounted, 
 " little do you think that you will never return to 
 your stable again ; little do I or you know the 
 usage you may receive from cruel, selfish, exact- 
 ing hands." Bob felt likewise that it was a degra- 
 dation to go and stand such an animal in the 
 country fair for public competition ; it was Bob's 
 first great trouble. 
 
 So Bob was thinking, when his companion 
 broke silence by remarking, " I think, youngster, 
 he'll go off well to-day, osses are dear ; do you 
 think the governor," in allusion to Bob's sire, 
 "would mind my chopping him away, if we 
 can't sell the animal right out ? After the animal 
 has been sold," he continued, " I should like you 
 to help me with the ship, if I buy any." 
 
 "All right," replied Bob. 
 
 " And now," said Mr. John, " I think we had 
 better trot the next two last miles, as time is 
 pressing." 
 
 So off they trotted, until they arrived at the 
 entrance of the town, when Mr. John put off at 
 the sign of the "Black Horse." But Bob's
 
 106 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 steed was destined to go a little further for public 
 competition. 
 
 The fair had already commenced^ proved by the 
 usual chorus of the screaming pigs, the bellowing 
 cattle, and bleating of sheep ; with the barking of 
 dogs, smacking of whips, and the constant shnah ! 
 shnah ! shnah ! '^ Out of the way there ! out of the 
 way there V of the drivers, pressing their unwill- 
 ing cattle through the meleej to which might be 
 added the trampling of horses, clattering of wheels, 
 and hubbub of voices, constituting the same a per- 
 fect Babel, not soon to be forgotten. Bob pressed 
 on through the bustle and crowd, to a stand he 
 observed vacant, determined on waiting there 
 until his business was concluded. But scarcely 
 had he gained his position, when up came an 
 elderly gentleman, in top-boots, a well-filled white 
 waistcoat, drab smallclothes, and blue coat with 
 brass buttons. 
 
 " Well, youngster, what now for the high-bred 
 and low-fed V he commenced. 
 
 "High-bred, if you please,^' answered Bob, 
 "but low-fed never," feeling somewhat indig- 
 nant at such a rude remark. 
 
 He smiled. " Well now, what's the price V 
 He inquired, " He appears tolerably sound ; does 
 he possess all the virtues of a horse without his 
 vices V^
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 107 
 
 " I can warrant him sound_, and free from 
 vice/' said Bob. 
 
 "Yes/' lie remarked, shaking liis head and 
 looking closely into the animal's mouth, "there's 
 no knowing, no knowing, my lad ; I have lived 
 long enough, and have been taken in sufficiently 
 in my time, to know that there's no confidence 
 to be placed or honesty to be expected in horse- 
 dealing. I always use my own judgment, and if 
 that's out, why I expect to be taken in ; but I 
 think the animal will do," he continued, " if the 
 figure is not too lofty; horses, you know, are 
 cheap just now ; but should I buy him he'll be 
 well fed and kindly treated." 
 
 From the appearance of the bidder Bob judged 
 such would be the case, however, on telling him 
 the price, — 
 
 " Too much, too much," he replied, again look- 
 ing at the animal ; " I must wait a little longer /' 
 and ofi" he went, and Bob saw him no more. 
 
 No sooner had his comfortable friend gone, 
 than up came two rough-looking men of the 
 baser sort, in corduroy breeches, pipes in their 
 mouths, and whips in their hands, with the latter 
 of which one of them commenced at once touching 
 up the pony. 
 
 " That's enough of that," said Bob. 
 
 "Lor bless us !" replied the man, " don't you
 
 108 THE MODERN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 want to sell tlie quadruped ? You sliould show 
 liim out ; tliat gemman there wants just such a 
 little figure^ if you can agree as to the price ;" 
 when, after examining eyes, mouth, and legs, 
 " How much,^' said he, " for the bow-legged, 
 blear-eyed racer V 
 
 " So much,^^ replied Bob, well knowing it would 
 be beyond his figure. 
 
 Others likewise followed in rapid succession, 
 all of whom commenced by at once depreciating 
 the property they were at the same time most 
 anxious to possess. " It is nought, it is nought, 
 saith the buyer, but when he goeth away he re- 
 joiceth." Men, in this respect, are the same now 
 as in the day of the wise man. 
 
 It appeared strange, however, to Bob^s young 
 imagination, that men should be mean enough to 
 follow such deceit, and practise such a lie. So he 
 was thinking when again disturbed from his 
 reverie by an uproar at his back, and the repe- 
 tition of, ^^ You little villain ; you little rascal ; 
 and whose boy are ye ?" And the thwack, 
 thwack, of a stick, resounded in his ears, when, 
 on looking round, he beheld an elderly farmer of 
 the old school, administering this chastisement 
 to a rosy-faced ploughboy, whom he had observed 
 keeping up some half-dozen fat oxen for the in- 
 spection of the butcher ; in his hand he held a
 
 OE, KUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 109 
 
 long hazel rod, with a goad at the end, with 
 which, it appeared, he had been amusing himself 
 and the other ploughboys, when a crowd of 
 farmers and butchers came to view, and a good 
 opportunity presented itself, by touching with 
 the point of the rod one of the animals in the 
 flank, to which notice, the animal responded with 
 a most determined kick on the leg of one of the 
 inspectors, compelling the same to make a pro- 
 found salaam, and utter words not acknowledged 
 by Johnson, Walker, or any other lexicographer ; 
 but not suspecting the cause of the effect, hob- 
 bled off, declaring the animal the most vicious 
 of brutes, without forming any idea of the pri- 
 mary author of the mischief. This sport, at the 
 expense of his superiors, pleased young scape- 
 grace exceedingly ; but becoming more and more 
 venturesome, and less cautious in returning the 
 goad to its proper position, when the gentleman 
 before alluded to passed up within the proper 
 distance to take the most signal effect, the instru- 
 ment was applied, and quick as thought smack 
 went the buUock^s foot against the burnished 
 boot-top of the inspector of beef, overturning the 
 wearer and making a sad ado, but on returning 
 the goad the luckless wight knocked off the hat 
 of another contemplator of fat cattle, in conse- 
 quence of which misfortune the plot was disco- 
 vered, the sequel to which being as before stated.
 
 no 
 
 CHAPTEK VI. 
 
 " Well, Goody, don't stand preaching now, 
 Folks don't preach sermons at a fair ; 
 We've reared ten boys and girls, you know, 
 And I'll be bound they'll all be there." 
 
 Bloomfield. 
 
 The day advancing, tlie lads and lasses of the 
 surrounding villages and hamlets, commenced 
 arriving in their usual holiday attire, exhibiting 
 as asual, a great proportion of red and white. 
 Little boys paraded to and fro, beating drums, 
 blowing trumpets, and clashing swords in quite 
 a martial air. Sedate little girls, likewise, 
 promenaded up and down, consequentially and 
 maternally, presiding over their chubby-faced 
 babies, each of Dutch extraction and manufac- 
 ture. Two boys, too, presently passed, looking 
 anything but comfortable, having, as appeared, 
 been making too free with the wheel of fortune, 
 which, in their case, turned in quite the opposite
 
 THE MODERN PEDAOOGUE. Ill 
 
 direction; they had likewise, it seems, been 
 dabbling with the thimble-riggers and garter- 
 prickers, decoyed into the mistake by a fellow 
 dressed in a white gabardine with cow-hair in 
 his hat, who had, to all appearances, been suc- 
 cessfully winning, apparently to the no small an- 
 noyance of the proprietor of the stand, but who, 
 in reality, was one of the rogues in disguise, and 
 merely acting the decoy-duck, to allure the 
 simple and unwary. Sounds of every descrip- 
 tion again met the ear in a most painful and dis- 
 cordant manner, — as gongs from the peepshows, 
 horns from the menageries, with bands from the 
 itinerant theatres, the vociferations of showmen 
 and exclamations of clowns, — constituted an up- 
 roar more easily understood than described. 
 
 " Just going to commence ! just going to com- 
 mence ! Now closing ! now closing V during 
 fully a half hour before any such thing was in- 
 tended, when the doors, having been apparently 
 closed, a rush would be made in order to secure 
 sittings, which addition of spectators having been 
 secured by their payments, delay in their case 
 was not considered dangerous ; so, having caged 
 the birds, the manager would come forward to 
 the edge of his stage, and, without any feeling of 
 consideration for the waiting ones inside, com- 
 mence again : '' All alive ! all alive ! Walk up.
 
 112 
 
 ladies and gentlemen, and see the great Ame- 
 rican jaguar, called tlie American man-eater, — an 
 hanimal, ladies and gentlemen, found only on tliat 
 extensive continent, and never appeared alive in 
 this country before ; and this is the only travel- 
 ling menagerie where this gi^eat cur^osHy in the 
 hanimal kingdom is to be seen ! Here also is a 
 fine specimen of the orang-outang, or wild man 
 of the wood, brought from Ceylon, East Indies, 
 in Her Majest}^s ship ^ Boxer,' and purchased 
 by the proprietor of this unrivalled exhibition at 
 a very extravagant price. He is the largest of the 
 monkey-tribe, and the one that most nearly re- 
 sembles man ; he is, indeed, a most wonderful 
 hanimal, taking his food in a sitting position, 
 making use of a spoon in the exercise ; prepares 
 his own bed like any clever chambermaid ; in 
 fact, without any exaggeration, there is scarcely 
 anything this living wonder could not perform. 
 We believe him capable of talking, only the 
 rogue fears we shall put him to work. Come up, 
 I say, and see him ! Come up, and see the 
 living wonder ! Come up, and see the wild man 
 of the wood, caught in the island of Ceylon, East 
 Indies ! The charge is only one penny, and the 
 only hanimal of his kind travelling ! Here, too, 
 are parrots and paroquettes, talking cockatoos 
 and chattering monkeys ! Here, also, can be seen
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMUSnSCENCES. 113 
 
 the laughing jackass from Australia and the 
 native devil from New Zealand ; they are indeed 
 most wonderful hanimals, and never exhibited 
 aHve before in this country ! The last worthy is 
 a great enemy to poor harmless sheep. The little 
 imp we have in the carriage had killed six, and 
 was hanging on to a seventh, when, with the 
 greatest difficulty, he was secured. The colo- 
 nists gave him that significant title in conse- 
 quence of his destructive propensities ! Walk 
 up, I say, and see him ! Come up, and see the 
 native devil of the antipodes, and the laughing 
 jackass of New Zealand ! Walk up, I say, ladies 
 and gentlemen ; the charge is only one penny, 
 and the hanimals all alive ! Come up and see 
 the great Asiatic python, taken in the act of 
 swallowing a bufialo ! This monster was cap- 
 tured by the Malays, ofi" the island of Borneo, 
 East Indies. Walk up, I say, walk up ! Stand 
 from the steps, you dirty boys, and let those nice, 
 clean little fellows with the pennies burning in 
 their hands pass up V And flourishing the whip 
 at once, commenced clearing the steps. 
 
 On the opposite side stood the itinerant 
 theatre, with stage in front, on which the dancers 
 and clowns were showing off their agility and 
 comic wit, in no constrained manner, to open- 
 mouthed countrymen, intently gazing on the 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 114 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 fairy -like ladies in gauze and muslin^ and wliom 
 tlie clowns^ out of compliment to their usual 
 rustic diety designated the men " Chaw-fats/^ a 
 few of whom they managed to allure on the stage, 
 in order to make sport of the same for the amuse- 
 ment of the crowd below in the following man- 
 ner: — 
 
 First Cloum. — " I say, Bill, how old are you V- 
 
 Second Clown. — ^' How old, didst say ?'^ 
 
 " Ay, to be sure ; how old ?^' 
 
 '^ Why, twenty next dung-hauling, to be sure/' 
 
 " I say. Bill, which is the way to London ?" 
 
 '^ Which is the way, didst say ?" 
 
 " Ay ay. Bill, anything you like ?" 
 
 "Why, the way to London is up here, down 
 there, across yonder, straight up the lane, that 
 goes in and out like, and there yer are if you fol- 
 low your nose right whip into the London Road V 
 
 " Good boy. Bill, good boy. Now go home, 
 and tell your sister aU about the theatre,^' said 
 Clown number one. 
 
 Then, calling up a few boys ambitious of public 
 distinction, and placing them in a line on the 
 stage, he commanded them all to lean back, — like 
 soldiers, he observed, with a wink ; then, standing 
 before the first, in order to see if the line proved 
 straight, in a moment plunged his foot into the 
 stomach of the first, which threw him on to the
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 115 
 
 second, and tlie second on to the third, and so on, 
 until the whole line was scrambling about on the 
 stage, to the no small amusement of the sight- 
 seers; after which amusing scene, and all for 
 nothing, the manager, a semi-genteel sort of per- 
 sonage, with very insinuating and condescending 
 manners, would advance, and inform the public, 
 " that this theatre was composed of the most cele- 
 brated comedians to be seen or heard, having 
 only just concluded an engagement at Her Ma- 
 jesty's Theatre, London, where they had been 
 performing with immense success ; patronized by 
 her Majesty and all the Eoyal Family ; but, being 
 anxious that the inhabitants of the provinces, and 
 rural population in general, might likewise have 
 an opportunity of enjoying this unrivalled treat, 
 they intended performing in every village and 
 town of any importance throughout the United 
 Kingdom. The ladies and gentlemen of the com- 
 pany," he continued, " will this day perform that 
 sublime drama, ^titled the ' Brigand's Wife / after 
 which that most amusing, laughable, and side- 
 splitting comedy, 'My Wife's gone to Chob- 
 ham.' Xow, ladies and gentlemen, we are just 
 going to commence, and, in order to meet the 
 pockets of our country friends, the charge wiU 
 be only threepence.^' 
 
 On the right of this erection stood the Bir- 
 
 I 2
 
 116 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 mingham man, who styled himself ^^ Cheap Jack," 
 vociferating and addressing a large crowd from 
 the front of his cart, inviting all to come and in- 
 spect the goods, which he declared to have pur- 
 chased, but never intended paying for, or he could 
 never afford to offer the same to the discerning 
 pubHc at that very low rate. 
 
 " Now, who will have this loi; V he com- 
 menced, holding up some half-dozen articles in 
 his hand. " Who will have this lot, I say ? 
 Twelve, eleven, ten, nine, eight, seven, six, six- 
 pence. Sell it or never sell it, the lot for six- 
 pence. I say, who would not spend sixpence for 
 such a lot as this ? I never saw such stubborn' 
 people in all my life ! Ton my word now, I 
 really think if I gave them the horse and cart, 
 they would want me to drive it home for them. 
 I do indeed ; positively I do now. There are 
 spoons for you ! If they were in Wales next 
 week, they would fetch more than the money; 
 but they are not in Wales, but shall be sold in 
 England, and this very day too ! Ton my word 
 and the honour of a gentleman, they shall ! And 
 then I add another article, and another, and an- 
 other," at the same time dashing them one upon 
 the other. " Now, who will have this valuable 
 lot ? Who ? Yery well, then ; I will pass it on 
 one side, and look for something more tempting.
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 117 
 
 more in accordance with the wants of the public. 
 Only sixpence the whole ! Very well^ then, no 
 buyer. Very well, then, I \vill return the same 
 to the cart, and look for something else.^^ 
 
 When up starts a man, in white gabardine, 
 saying, " Here, let us have that lot." 
 
 " Have that lot ? I should think so," said the 
 salesman, returning from his cart again with an- 
 other handful, phis another article, declaring that 
 had his young friend seen the present he would 
 not have purchased the past, the present lot con- 
 taining more articles and of a better quality. 
 
 When up rises another countryman, evidently 
 much disgusted with the whole proceeding, and 
 calling out — 
 
 " Eh, there, you Brumingum ; you take us for 
 fools, don^t ye ? Don^t standing hatching lies 
 there. I say, shut up ; lie down, you liar." 
 
 "What does the fellow say? WTiat does the 
 fellow mean ?" commenced Cheap Jack. '^ What 
 did he say ? Hatching — hatching, did you say ? 
 my poor fellow. You think I am like one of 
 your old geese, I presume ; poor fellow, poor 
 fellow, poor fellow !" said the salesman, " his ideas 
 never soar beyond the pinions of a goose ; don^t 
 say any more, my poor fellow !" 
 
 '' Hold your jaw ! " shouted the man again. 
 
 " It is a good thing," commenced Cheap Jack
 
 118 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 again, '^ my poor fellow, that you are not living 
 near a London cemetery, or they would have those 
 teeth of yours for tombstones (in allusion to some 
 rather more than prominent) ; ^pon my word now, 
 they would — they would, indeed. Oh, what a 
 set of teeth ! I say, ladies and gentlemen, I pity 
 from my heart the poor ill-used man who finds him 
 in his bread and bacon ; I do, indeed, feel quite 
 sorry for him." So getting the laugh turned on 
 his disturber, who had fled for refuge, when an 
 opportunity occurred, without being observed, 
 Cheap Jack returned from his cart again with 
 another last lot ; only remarking as he did so that 
 his cart was really hatching, and there was indeed 
 no end of the chickens. 
 
 On Bob^s left was a tall, gaunt-looking man, 
 superintending a penny peep-show, exhibiting 
 pictures of battle-pieces, and the like ; and who 
 was proceeding with his description in a loud and 
 sonorous voice ; and looking as important as if 
 he really had been in the eng-agement he was at- 
 tempting to describe to his juvenile audience, 
 occupying the bulls' eyes. The Battle of Water- 
 loo and Belshazzar's Feast appeared to be the 
 principal subjects. '^Look to the right," he 
 commenced, " and on that hill, on the white 
 horse, with a telescope in his hand, is General 
 Bonaparte, the great warrior and scourge of man-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 119 
 
 kind; it is said that lie shed more blood than 
 would be enough to float the British navy, and 
 that he ate up all the boys and girls he could get 
 at, for breakfast every morning, — that, I say, is 
 General Bonaparte. Look to the left, and there 
 you will see, wearing a cocked hat, his great op- 
 ponent and conqueror, WelUngton.^^ 
 
 " Where ? where V^ inquired all the boys at 
 once. " I canH see anything like that.^^ 
 
 " Oh, stop a bit ; I see," said the showman ; 
 " I have been pulling the wrong string ; but just 
 remember what I have been telling ye of Wel- 
 lington, — and now there he is and no mistake. 
 Well, as I was saying, Wellington is on the left, 
 taken at the awful moment when he said, ^ Up, 
 Guards, and at ^um V and there you see the red 
 coats chopping and slashing up the French, of 
 all the world like minced meat. The next picture, 
 my Uttle dears, is Belshazzar^s Feast, recorded 
 in the Holy Bible, the Book of Daniel ; you know 
 that it runs, that he made a great feast, and 
 called together his lords and nobles, wives and 
 concubines, to partake of that feast ; and he sent 
 for the vessels of silver and gold taken out of the 
 temple, to drink the wine out on. You see them 
 all there, sitting round the table, — the King is at 
 the top with his crown on, the Prime Minister on 
 his right, and somebody else on his left, I for-
 
 120 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 get Ms title ; but doesn^t signify now. Down 
 tlie table, dressed in tlie Eastern style, are all 
 them beautiful ladies I told you on before. Daniel 
 is standing at tlie bottom, and pointing to tlie 
 writing on tlie wall ; you can^t read it, nobody 
 could but be, — but it went to say tbat tbe king- 
 dom was departed from the king ; and tbat nigbt 
 the king were slain ! and tbat nigbt the King 
 were slain ! There that is all the pictures, my 
 little dears ; and if any on ye ainH satisfied, call 
 again to-morrow and have your pennies back. 
 Walk up, walk up, my little dears, and see the 
 Battle of Waterloo and Belshazzar's Feast." 
 
 Close to him stood a man managing a circular 
 frame, upon which were fixed wooden horses, bear- 
 ing the significant names of Swift, Fast, Sharp, 
 Trot, etc. Some of the riders had already mounted 
 their chosen steeds, and only awaited the proper 
 centrifugal force, to be applied by boys ambiti- 
 ous to act in the capacity of primary movers, in 
 order to send the ready riders on their endless 
 journey. This knight of contracted locomotion 
 likewise managed another machine, consisting of 
 a monstrous vertical wheel, to which at conve- 
 nient distances boats were attached, in such man- 
 ner, so that as the wheel revolved, the boats con- 
 tinually sank so as to prevent them turning over ; 
 this machine, indeed, appeared particularly con-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMTHSCENCES. 121 
 
 structed for the purpose of encouraging bilious 
 feelings, having two very important principles 
 tending to this end, viz. the centrifugal vertical 
 movement, with the constant sinking — sinking 
 of the boats in the aerial voyage. The boats fast 
 filled, however, with young countrymen and 
 women, some of whom, after a few turns, hung 
 over the sides of the same, threatening instant 
 unpleasantness to their friends swinging below. 
 
 It was likewise mop day as well as fair day. The 
 origin of this word appears a little obscure, — it 
 might perhaps have originated with the woolly 
 head and birch handle, in allusion to servants 
 being cleaners in every respect, more especially 
 as it was customary, in some places, to assemble 
 round an elevated mop, waiting to be hired, — this 
 was called going to mop ; or perhaps a corrup- 
 tion of mope -day, as the servants waiting to be 
 hired, appeared in some instances a little mopish ; 
 some however argue that it is derived from the 
 word mappa, applied by the Romans to their 
 public games, because, when the games were 
 to commence, the umpire ordered the mappa 
 or napkin, with which he wiped his fingers, to 
 be thrown up as a signal. ' Map ' is derived from 
 the same word, being sometimes made of cloth ; 
 so at these fairs, games being introduced, the 
 word became applied to the time of hiring ser-
 
 122 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 vants, as tlie servants, after being hired, in- 
 dulged in little innocent or otlier amusements. 
 But it was mop day, as well as fair day, and the 
 managers of the horse and cow, in long white 
 gabardines with whipcord, and cowhair in their 
 hats, emblems of their particular calling, were 
 standing about in different parts of the town ; 
 their sisters likewise, of the dairy, with rosy- 
 cheeks and brawny limbs, were there, and, as 
 they met and passed each other, cracked jokes or 
 talked excitedly over the scenes of the farm or 
 grange they had left, or speculated on the fresh, 
 but improved situation. Near to Bob stood a 
 farmer talking to one he had selected from the 
 crowd at first sight, having taken a fancy to him 
 from his physical appearance. The youth se- 
 lected was a stout-built, compact, middle-sized 
 man, apparently about one-and-twenty ; the 
 farmer said he liked that size and age, they are 
 generally stronger like, he remarked, and more 
 up to their work ; the bigger ones, he observed, 
 are more holler like, and want a deal more feed- 
 ing, subject to ail more often, and it takes ^um a 
 deuced long time to turn round. 
 
 " How old are ye, my man V inquired the 
 farmer. 
 
 " Why, as near as I knows, I was twenty-three 
 last Michaelmas/^ replied the man.
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 123 
 
 " Strong fellow, I suppose ?^' said tlie fanner, 
 eyeing him closely. 
 
 "Yes, Master; I don't know tliat ever I iiad 
 tte doctor in my life, at leastmse not that I can 
 remember." 
 
 " Dost thee understand ship as well as osses 
 and cows ?" 
 
 " Haven't had much experience in ship. Master ; 
 at leastwise, I never done much ship-herding.'' 
 
 ^' Canst thee get up early in the morning, — four 
 o'clock say, at latest ? I alias have my osses 
 turned up and fed at that time, and a fellow that 
 lies soaking in bed a'ter that ain't worth a rush on 
 my farm, I can tell ye." 
 
 " I can do it all. Master," said the man. 
 
 " Let me see," said the farmer again. " How 
 many meals do you expect to tuck in in the course 
 of the day ? I only give my men breakfast, 
 dinner, and supper ; there's no coming the dew 
 bit and bait at my farm, mind that." 
 
 " That will do, then. Master," replied the ser- 
 vant. 
 
 '^ Got a character, I s'pose ?" inquired the 
 farmer. 
 
 " Yes, Master," replied the man taking off his 
 hat and fumbling under his pockethandkerchief. 
 
 " And how long is it ?" 
 
 " A good twelve months, Master."
 
 124 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 " Yes j let me see^ what wages V 
 
 " Five shillings in the house, but ten if I live 
 out." 
 
 "Yes/' said the farmer; *^*^ you fellows know 
 how to stick it on, these emigration and war 
 times, don't ye ? Well, I think thee'lt do ; come 
 to-morrow. Stop ; let me see, canst thee read 
 and write 1" 
 
 " Only a little. Master. I never went to school 
 only a bit on Sundays, now^ and then.'' 
 
 " Well, that will do ; come, as I said, to-mor- 
 row." 
 
 On turning round, the farmer muttered to him- 
 self, "Can't read and write much; no matter, 
 neither, as I knows on. Don't care about these 
 kind philosopher chaps. By gor, they thinks 
 they knows more than their masters, some- 
 times." 
 
 Not many yards beyond stood a lady, who 
 might have passed well for the rib of the gentle- 
 man who had engaged the aforesaid man ; she 
 was standing close up to, and minutely inspecting 
 a fine healthy-looking girl of about twenty, a 
 most admirable specimen of an Englishwoman, 
 brought up in the pure air of dewy meads and 
 hawthorn groves. 
 
 " And what sort of a situation have you been 
 accustomed to ? " demanded the lady.
 
 OE, EUSTIC EEMINISCEXCES. 125 
 
 " I have managed a dairy of thii'ty cows/^ an- 
 swered tlie maid. 
 
 " Get up well in the morning, I suppose ; never 
 lying in bed fancying you are ill ? I had a girl 
 once that was rather delicate in health, and she 
 was the plague of my life nearly. ^Tiat wages 
 might you expect ? You know butter and cheese 
 are low, we can^t afford high wages ; farming is 
 not what it was.'' 
 
 " I had ten pounds at my last place/' returned 
 the girl. 
 
 " Yes/' said the lady ; " the masters and mis- 
 tresses are ruined, and the servants spoiled by 
 high wages. Well, I suppose as you make the 
 cheese and butter, you must have it. Well, 
 Nancy," said the lady again, in rather a coaxing 
 mood ; " and how old are you ? " 
 
 This question, impertinent as it might appear, 
 was asked by the lady as if she really expected 
 the truth for an answer ; a question she well 
 knew that was usually evaded by her sex, but 
 which the girl answered to her satisfaction, by 
 saying she was twenty, had twelve months' cha- 
 racter, and she never ailed. 
 
 " That wiU do, Nancy, come on Monday," said 
 the lady. 
 
 The engagement had just ended, when Mr. 
 John came up to Bob for the first time since 
 leavinof him at the Black Horse.
 
 126 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 "Youngster/^ lie commenced, "we must be 
 tliinkmg of getting home ; we are more than two 
 hours behind time to-night, but it canH be helped, 
 when friends meet, they can^t allis part in a mi- 
 nute. I have bought fivescore ship, and should 
 like you to help me get them through the town/^ 
 
 Having collected the sheep, they travelled on- 
 ward until arriving at an inn on the roadside, in- 
 which, as they neared, could be heard the tam- 
 bourine and fiddle, with the heel and toe of the 
 dancers beating time to the music, for here was 
 Giles, with the girl of his choice, dancing in the 
 high-lows with most vehement determination. 
 
 Now Mr. John had an idea that boys should be 
 taught to curb their appetites, and Bob, thinking 
 that he and his steed had pretty well practised 
 this self-denial, hinted the same to his companion. 
 
 ^' Yes, very good/^ said Mr. John, " and I'll 
 have a little myself, too, for we have a good many 
 miles to ride through the night -air, and the ship 
 are plaguy slow." 
 
 Over the door of the inn stood printed the fol- 
 lowing well-advised words : — 
 "The Gate. 
 " This gate hangs well, and hinders none ; 
 Refreshments take, and travel on." 
 
 Mine host,. Bob discovered, was fond of these 
 little snatches of rhyme ; for on a black board
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 127 
 
 hanging against tlie wall inside, was also printed : 
 " No Teust ! 
 " Chalk is good, but say what you will, 
 Chalk never will pay the maltster's bill." 
 
 The latter effusion appeared self-evident ; but of 
 the former. Bob remains in doubt until this day. 
 Having again collected the sheep, and having 
 left the house of call, they recommenced their jour- 
 ney, which any one might at once see would be 
 a tiresome one indeed, as the poor animals were al- 
 ready overfatigued, having been driven, probably, 
 many miles to the fair that morning. As they 
 slowly wended their way. Bob felt not a little un- 
 easy for the safety of the flock, as they were fre- 
 quently overtaken, and driven through by returns 
 from the fair ; when presently he heard something 
 advancing at a most rapid pace, apparently free 
 from any control. Bob and his companion drove 
 the flock to one side of the road, and awaited this 
 night -fugitive to pass, when rush it came right 
 into the flock of sheep, turning over several of 
 the fleecy people, and breaking the leg of one of 
 them. " Now,^' thought Bob, " our travelling is 
 at an end.^^ Mr. John fell into a dreadful fit of 
 passion, to which he gave vent by heartily cursing 
 the authors of the mischief, and swearing what 
 he would do if he caught them, which he never 
 succeeded in doing, they having kept on the same
 
 128 THE MODEEN PEDAaoaUE ; 
 
 speed until far out of sight and hearing. Bob 
 dismounted, Mr. Jokn had done so some moments 
 before, as he required terra firnia to stamp upon. 
 However, with the assistance of the bank, they 
 got the poor sufiPerer up in front of Mr. John's 
 saddle, and in this way recommenced the journey 
 again. 
 
 " Fools ! '^ ejaculated Mr. John, as they ad- 
 vanced ; " drunk, I'll be bound now, and deuced 
 drunk, too, not to be able to see a flock of ship 
 on a moonlight night. I'll be bound he'll die 
 now, and a dead loss that will be ; if the beggars 
 had only done the mischief nearer the town, 
 might have sold'n to the butcher, and he would 
 not have made bad mutton neither ; now, there's 
 not a house under three miles. WeU, I must 
 take him home, and try to set the leg myself. 
 I'll be bound though he'll never pay the doctor." 
 
 As before observed, it was a moonlight night, 
 Phoebe was shining in her brightest refulgence, 
 and with a grandeur and sublimity that belongs 
 alone to a creature of celestial birth, unmoved by 
 the trivial cares and vexations of this our lower 
 world, and who in her benevolence and sympa- 
 thy, sends down rays of sweetest light, to illu- 
 mine the dark places of the same. So brilliant, 
 indeed, were the rays, that the stars seemed to 
 hide their diminished heads, and the noble trees.
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 129 
 
 as they intercepted the same,, cast their shadows 
 in such manner, that the sagacious animal upon 
 which Bob rode considering the same to be real 
 substances, hesitated placing his feet upon them. 
 It was indeed a pleasant night, and one which 
 Bob much enjoyed, as he and his companion 
 slowly followed the flock, led by the bell-wether ; 
 there was something so truly different from the 
 gasping race of life witnessed at the fair. Truly 
 has it been said, '^ God made the country, but 
 man made the town/' Bob was thinking too, 
 whether ignorance was really bliss^ for if so there 
 was plenty of that ingredient in the persons he 
 had just seen ; and wondered if in these rough 
 caskets, there were not to be found some rich 
 gems that only required to be brought to light, 
 and polishing by the benevolent hand of education; 
 from such sprang a Bloomfield, a Burns, and a host 
 of others. For the want of education, doubtless — 
 
 " Full many a flower is born to blush unseen, 
 And waste its fragrance on the desert air." 
 
 And so they progressed ; Bob's companion sel- 
 dom or never speaking, that Bob thought he must 
 have welcomed Somnus, even in the saddle, know- 
 ing that he possessed the happy faculty of falling 
 into his arms when, and where he pleased, and 
 the next moment waking up again to action. 
 Presently, however, they were aroused from their 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 130 THE MODERN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 reverie by a party of dealers from tlie fair, riding 
 whip and spur, whom Mr. Jokn, in remembrance 
 of the late catastropbe, took good care to chal- 
 lenge, as " Who comes there ? " and ^' Mind what 
 you are arter there, dimme ; for I have got a flock 
 of ship on the road,^^ and so on ; on which they 
 pulled up, when one of them commenced : 
 
 " A fine night, gentlemen ; rather late, though, 
 I guess, for shepherding/^ 
 
 And now Bob recognized them to be the men, 
 one of whom struck his pony when standing in 
 the fair, and desired the same to be shown out. 
 
 " Not far to go, I s'pose, eh ? " continued the 
 man. 
 
 " Yes, too far, worst luck,^^ said Mr. John. 
 
 '^ A nice little nag, that,^' he continued, in al- 
 lusion to Bob's. " Not for sale, I s'pose ? '^ 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. John, " 'tis for sale, too." 
 
 " Looks well," he continued, " by moonshine ; 
 but broken-kneed, blear-eyed, or half blind, I'll 
 be bound, by daylight. How much, now, taking 
 him at a chance ? " 
 
 " So much," answered Mr. John. 
 
 " It won't do ; too much by half," returned the 
 dealer; "now, for my own use, I just tell ye, I 
 wouldn't give anything for'n; too much silk in 
 the coat ; too fine in the leg ; too tender ; too 
 delicate-like, eh. Jack ? " appealing to his com-
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 131 
 
 panion. " But I think I knows a gemmen whom 
 he might suit, who wants a fancy sort of thing, 
 and not working qualities much. Appearance is 
 all he cares about; for pleasure he wants him, 
 not work ; the gemmen never does any of that 
 hisself, eh. Jack ? Now look here, master, 1^11 
 tell ye what Fll do, 1^11 chop with you ; 1^11 give 
 you this little black cob,^^ — in allusion to the 
 one on which he was riding, that never knew 
 yet what it was to feel tired ; at the same time 
 administering a blow across the poor animal's 
 haunches with his ash stick, spurring his sides, 
 and jerking the bit; at which tune the poor 
 creature sprang into life. "Here's the little 
 fellow," he continued; "here's the little oss to 
 draw any load, carry any weight ; wind, like a 
 locomotive ; eyes like a cat's ; legs as sound as a 
 donkey's ; and can travel ten miles an hour, and 
 keep it up, without wetting a hair. I say, this is 
 the crettur," giving the animal another slap 
 upon the neck, which made him jump again; 
 " this is the hanimal I will change away for your 
 delicate smooth-coated article. Now what d'e 
 say?" 
 
 " What wiU ye give to boot ? " asked Mr. 
 John. 
 
 " So much," replied the dealer. 
 
 And so the bargain was struck, and soon Bob 
 
 k2
 
 132 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 found himself raounted again on an untried ani- 
 mal, his own having been exchanged, sold, gone ; 
 and, with many conflicting ideas passing through 
 his brain, resumed the journey. Bob felt he was 
 losing confidence in his companion's horse-deal- 
 ing experience. "Here," thought Bob, "is an 
 animal probably unsound; money, perhaps, not 
 good." 
 
 "Well,'" commenced Mr. John, riding close 
 up, " you have got a nice hanimal there, and no 
 mistake; and money to boot. The old gentle- 
 man will like that, won't he ?" 
 
 " Yes," thought Bob, " perhaps he may ;" but, 
 at the same time, having great misgivings as to 
 his liking the horse, — for Bob had already dis- 
 covered that the animal possessed a peculiar dia- 
 gonal locomotion, drawing, as he thought, one 
 leg on the ground, — in short, Bob felt they were 
 taken in, and was beginning to feel out of spirits, 
 accordingly, when his companion again rode up 
 to liim, and, leaning over his saddle, commenced : 
 
 "Youngster, we are a little late to-night, 
 rather too late, on the road. I see by my watch 
 that we are not far from the smaller hours ; but, 
 as 1 said before, when friends meet it can't be 
 helped, that's all about it. Now we have four 
 miles more of road to get over, and the ship 
 quite tired — done up, I might say. But what I
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 133 
 
 was going to remark more particular was, that if 
 we got robbed to-night, it would not be the first 
 by many who have met with that misfortune here- 
 abouts. Do you see that clump of fir-trees sur- 
 rounded, by the wood yonder away to the left? 
 Many^s the man who has lost his aU there." 
 
 The spot alluded to was the most lonely por- 
 tion of the ride, and the wayfarer^s anxiety usu- 
 ally was to pass this danger, to run this gauntlet, 
 before midnight. The place, indeed, had a very 
 suspicious appearance, — a blind road led away 
 into a dense copse, stretching into an endless 
 forest, backed up by high hills of mountain-like 
 appearance ; which was reputed to be the abode 
 of robbers and highwaymen. And Mr. John was 
 right when he remarked, " Many is the man who 
 has lost his all there;" for many robberies had 
 been committed on this spot, many of them ac- 
 companied with violence and murder. 
 
 '' Now," continued Bob^s companion, '^ I have 
 got a few pounds in gold, and a note or two; 
 that, with my watch, 1^11 give to you, and only 
 three sovereigns keep myself; then, should the 
 beggars come — and I only hope they won^t — 
 they^ll think I spent all in buying the ship, and 
 I'll tell um I did. They won't suspect you to have 
 it, and we shall get ofi", maybe, by paying them 
 only three pounds. I wish an earthquake would
 
 134 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE. 
 
 swallow tlie beggars up, I do/^ lie added ; " for, 
 with this broken-legged ship, and the rest of um 
 tired, tbere^s no chance for a fellow but to stand 
 and deliver his money or his life. Well, I loves 
 my money ; but, after all, I loves my hfe better, 
 eh, youngster V 
 
 So saying, they took up their positions again, 
 and marched homeward. 
 
 Some persons with their pockets well re- 
 plenished are happy, comfortable, delighted, 
 feeling a sort of security in possession. This 
 was not exactly Bob^s experience, but rather 
 the contrary, — feeling certain that if the beggars, 
 (as Mr. John called them,) came, they would 
 pounce upon him first, and punish him for being 
 in possession of the money.
 
 135 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 O popular applause ! Wliat heart of man 
 Is proof against thy sweet seducing charms ' 
 The wisest and the best feel urgent need 
 Of all their caution." 
 
 No sooner liad the owner inspected liis new 
 rider, than lie declared that he would never be 
 seen mounting such a moonshine hack, and that 
 Mr. John must have been blind or drunk to have 
 been so taken in. Ah ! had he known, poor gen- 
 tleman, the wiles of horse-dealing, he would have 
 never indulged in that bold remark. But cer- 
 tainly it was a peculiar animal, and did not im- 
 prove by diurnal inspection, possessing, as before 
 remarked, the novel diagonal locomotion; but 
 which peculiar animal, Bob's elder brother, in 
 consequence of horseflesh being at a premium, 
 was compelled to ride in procession next day, in 
 order to pay his respects to the divisional Mem-
 
 136 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 ber, and who, in consequence of being so mounted, 
 became the subject of no small annoyance from 
 the farmers and tradesmen, wlio followed in line 
 in white trousers, and hats of the same spotless 
 purity. I say, as Bohr's brother rode in the ca- 
 valcade to the town where the embryo M.P. was 
 going to inform his constituents what he was 
 prepared to uphold or reject, retain or ignore;, 
 the principal portion of which remains to this day 
 to be accomplished; Bob's brother cut a rather 
 conspicuous figure, and became the observed of 
 all obser^'ers, for, being so mounted, he took more 
 than what was considered his proper share of 
 room in the closely-packed squadrons, led by 
 the M.P. and local band ; for, ever and anon, in 
 consequence of the diagonal locomotion pecuUar 
 to the animal, it occasionally brushed some of the 
 farmers' highly -burnished boot-tops, when the 
 rider at once became subject to such unpleasant 
 efi'usions as, " Dang ye ! where are ye coming ? 
 Can't ye be content with your own sheer of room? 
 I tell ye that animal ain't fit to ride procession in 
 no ways !" On which the rider, with an apology 
 for the rudeness of his steed, would direct the 
 same from complainant, but, in so doing, bring 
 him broadside smack against the white trousers 
 of the well-di-essed tradesman, from whom he 
 would receive the following gentle rebuke : — " I
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMENISCENCES. 137 
 
 tkink_, Sir, you had better fall out of tlie ranks, 
 unless you can be content with the superfluity of 
 room already monopolized by you and your nag. 
 I tell you, Sir, it is really disgraceful ! See how 
 you have soiled my white trousers ! A pretty 
 figure I shall cut at the hustings ! It is, I repeat, 
 disgraceful you can^t manage the animal better'/' 
 Bob's brother, seeing that unless he fell out of 
 the ranks, the ranks would soon fall out with him, 
 determined on making his exit as soon as possi- 
 ble with credit to himself and horse, and presently 
 an opportunity having occurred, in consequence of 
 a stone getting into the hoof of the M.P/s capa- 
 risoned steed, which caused a sudden stoppage, 
 and no little confusion, he sidled out and fell 
 to the rear, and in that position went on to the 
 town; and, as this is termed '^Eustic Reminis- 
 cences,' it will not be amiss or out of place, 
 perhaps, if I inform the reader how, and what the 
 M.P. spoke, and the opposition he had to con- 
 tend with. 
 
 The Member, having ascended the hustings, at 
 once commenced : " This is the proudest day of 
 my life ; the greatest height of my ambition ; 
 this is to me the paragon of days ; an era from 
 which I shall be delighted to date ; day on which 
 I stood before you, to be elected your represen- 
 tative in Parliament, — to be chosen by the free.
 
 138 THE MODERX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 independent, unbiassed votes of the yeomen and 
 farmers of this noble county; (the farmers 
 winced) to represent you in the most intelli- 
 gent and enlightened senate the world ever 
 saw. Gentlemen, I repeat, I am proud of my 
 election, because it is by your free, uncoerced 
 proxies (the farmers winced again) . Gentlemen,'^ 
 continued the M.P., " it will be my privilege, , 
 duty, and delight to represent you faithfully, fully, 
 and conscientiously. I will support Church and 
 State, and tolerate all sections of Protestantism. 
 I will support all necessary army and navy es- 
 timates, believing that old England should rest 
 secure in her own strength, without affection or 
 favour from liberally or otherwise disposed nations, 
 and compelling respect from despotic ones, by 
 her formidable array. (Cheers from the farmers.) 
 (A voice : This is all bosh ! How about Protec- 
 tion ?) Gentlemen, I shall consider it my duty, 
 as far as I can, to protect the cultivators of the 
 soil, and to support all their legitimate tradi- 
 tional rights. (A voice : He^s a trump.) I will 
 also encourage, in every safe manner, the unH- 
 mited development of trade and commerce. (A 
 voice : He won^t do that by Protection ! How 
 about the game laws ?) Gentlemen, I give you, 
 I pledge you, my word to support every measure 
 likely to add to your advantage. (A voice :
 
 OR, RUSTIC RElVnNISCEyCES. 139 
 
 That's a twist !) (Fanner Dawes, toucli him up a 
 little on tlie taxes !) Gentlemen, with respect to 
 the taxes, it will be my great delight to lift the 
 burden of taxation from the shoulders of the 
 farmers and yeomen of England. (Bravo ! You're 
 a brick ! Go on again !) Yes, gentlemen, I say, 
 and you'll all respond, God speed the plough!" 
 (Bravo ! hurrah ! hurrah ! He's the boy for us ! 
 He shall go to the great house and jaw away, 
 and no mistake !) 
 
 The speaker having concluded, and as the 
 farmers returned from the hustings, — 
 
 "I say, Jones," commenced Farmer Dawes, 
 "d'e think he will carry all out he's been say- 
 ing?" 
 
 "I don't know, I hope he may; he'll be as 
 well as most of um, I reckon. I dare say he'll 
 take care of number one, or he's a fool. How- 
 ever, he has made the money fly, and that's 
 something these times. We'll away, and drink 
 his health in a stiff un or two." 
 
 But there was an unexpected opposition in one 
 Mr. Jacobs, from the Minories, who likewise came 
 forward. Mr. Jacobs was an energetic man of 
 many summers, iron-grey in shade, of full habit, 
 red face, and aquiline nose; possessing a super- 
 abundance of confidence, and delighting in a big 
 swelling phraseology.
 
 140 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 '^ Yes/' lie commenced, " now I liave a policy ; 
 I don't come before you like a naked political 
 skeleton, presenting an empty dish. No, but 
 here I am, able and willing to support tlie fran- 
 cliise to any extent, — ay, univ^ersal suffrage if 
 you like ; so that every man, higli or low, ricli 
 or poor, learned or illiterate ; may have a voice 
 in the government of his country. I will oppose 
 Church and State ; the game laws ; church rates ; 
 and Protection ; because the whole posse of them 
 is an unfair imposition. Yes, I say, if you will 
 only return me, I will oppose church rates in 
 toto, because such rates are, I affirm, an unfair 
 tax, compelling all alike to support that in which 
 they feel no interest. I will oppose the game 
 laws, because every man in my opinion should 
 have his hare or rabbit as well as the Squire, 
 and without fear of Mr. Big-pocket Velvet-jacket. 
 What do we in London care about hares or rab- 
 bits ? Nothing, I say truly nothing, until we 
 see them hanging up by their heels in the New 
 Cut or Seven Dials. Therefore, I say I am your 
 man, there. I will uphold every liberal policy; 
 but strenuously oppose every one that stinks of 
 Conservativism. (^ Bravo, Jacobs!' arose from 
 the audience.) There now, I say; here's the 
 man, ready and willing to represent you, with- 
 out any pretence ; honestly and faithfully. I will
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINTSCEXCES. 141 
 
 of course, as my opponent, support all regular 
 army and navy estimates, that confidence may 
 be established, and speculation and commersh 
 flourisli. Likewise the glorious Volunteer force. 
 Blesh you, I am a Volunteer myself, and glory 
 in the name. Now slien, shentlemen,^^ continued 
 Mr. Jacobs, " if you will return me, 1^11 tell you 
 what 1^11 do for your personal and local interest. 
 First, then, there's my son Ishmael, who is fond 
 of his gun, and other wild sports, shall do him- 
 self the honour of coming down and shooting 
 with you at the usual season. (^ Bravo, Jacobs, 
 we'll give him some pork,' arose again.) Now, no 
 impudensh, shentlemen," returned Mr. Jacobs; 
 "and I and Mrs. Jacobs will come down in 
 the winter and look after your schools, buy up 
 the coarse pieces of beef, make soup, and dis- 
 tribute to all comers without affection or favour, 
 creed or sect. Yes, I intend lookiog well after 
 those who honour me with a seat in the House of 
 Representatives." " Old clo !" shouted some ig- 
 norant urchin; on which the would-be M.P. be- 
 came exasperated, declaring that if they con- 
 tinued their ignorance, he would not represent 
 them at all. " But," continued the speaker, 
 " shentlemen, for all joking, I say I am here, 
 ready and willing to be offered at the glorious 
 shrine of Liberal politics. I am not one of your
 
 142 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 young, untried, unripe boys ; but I am a peacli 
 fully ripe. I can blossom again, and bring forth 
 political fruit, if you will only transplant me to 
 the conservatory House of Parliament in West- 
 minster assembled. Yes, and you shall learn 
 to blesh the day when you chose Jacob Jacobs to 
 take care of your political interests, although it 
 was a mere acchident that brought him down to 
 offer himself as your Member. (^ Bravo, Jacobs, 
 bring your daughter Dinah with you when you 
 come next.^) No impudensh, shentlemen, I 
 say, or you will fail in getting a shentleman 
 to represent you, and you will deserve the 
 shlight.^' 
 
 " Hurrah ! bravo, Jacobs ! go home ! lie down ! 
 mind your shop V and many vulgar expressions 
 were hurled at the would-be M.P., who slowly 
 and with great confidence descended the plat- 
 form, and left in the company of his friends. It 
 need scarcely be remarked that Mr. Jacobs failed 
 in persuading the electors of Hogham that he 
 was a fit person to represent them in Parliament, 
 in Westminster assembled. 
 
 The speeches having ended, the band struck 
 up 'See, the Conquering Hero Comes j^ and the 
 procession, headed again by the M.P., returned 
 as they went. Bob^s brother, carefully keeping in 
 the rear, presently turned short to the right, and
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 143 
 
 was out of sight almost immediately; and soon 
 reaching home, dismounted, declaring he never 
 would on such an occasion ride such an ill-man- 
 nered brute again ; nor did he, for the next day 
 the animal was changed away for another, bro- 
 ken-winded, it is true, but which the owner de- 
 clared he preferred to one going three ways at 
 once. 
 
 Now about this time Bob^s attention was called, 
 with other boys, to the choir at the meeting-house, 
 a choir rather celebrated in the parish for the 
 number, and, as was supposed, excellence of the 
 performers, both vocal and instrumental. The 
 choir, in fact, consisted of double and single 
 basses, violoncellos, flutes, and clarionets ; in ad- 
 dition to which a row of sound, sonorous lungs 
 of both sexes formed a line in front of the gal- 
 lery. The leader of the choir was a stout, burly, 
 full-fed, bull-eyed looking man, very jealous of 
 the credit of the sweet singers, — and who held 
 command likewise over the double-bass. He 
 also insisted on keeping supervision over the 
 whole gallery; and woe to the luckless wight 
 who crept behind the double-bass, or back of 
 a pew, with the wicked intention of eating apples, 
 cracking nuts, putting his fingers to his ears for 
 the purpose of studpng the principles of acous- 
 tics, or half-closed his eyes in the act of multi-
 
 144 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 pljing tlie candles ; for so sure as lie did so, 
 down would come the bow of the double-bass upon 
 his devoted pate, making him forget the number 
 of the latter in an instant ; and on looking round 
 would see descending upon him as angry and vin- 
 dictive a countenance as was ever created, and 
 which he would not forget for the next twelve 
 months. Another part of this gentleman's busi- - 
 ness consisted also in keeping awake the junior 
 portion of the singers. This he likewise per- 
 formed by the application of the aforesaid bow. 
 Or, when either of them, as it sometimes hap- 
 pened, swerved from the right direction of the 
 scale, the administering bow would touch such 
 a wanderer just under the fifth rib, causing the 
 same to perform a most polite salaam to the con- 
 gregation below, producing a scarlet flush on the 
 cheek, and many other disagreeable feelings that 
 youth is heir to. 
 
 Now it so happened that one Sunday one of 
 the best singing-boys, by the name of Primm, 
 had suffered in this way, and determined on 
 leavinor the singing-gallery forthwith, which re- 
 solution much displeased the leader. But al- 
 though Primm gave up public singing, he did 
 not entirely give up music, for he had purchased 
 a musical snuff-box, which he regularly plajed, 
 in order to interest himself and gratify his pas-
 
 OR, KUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 145 
 
 sion for sweet sounds. This little instrument he 
 constantly carried in his pocket, in order to wind 
 up and set going, when his spirits fell. Primm 
 likewise came to the singing-gallery, taking up 
 his position in rear of the orchestra; but it so 
 happened that one Sunday, before entering the 
 sacred edifice, he had as usual been engaged 
 amusing himself and fellows by running over, on 
 his musical-box ^ Jenny Jones,^ ^AuldLang Syne,' 
 etc. ; and winding up the instrument, returned 
 the same, ready loaded with music, to his pocket ; 
 but from some unaccountable cause, at the mo- 
 ment when all was more than usually still, this 
 profane, thoughtless box, supposed to be quietly 
 sleeping in the pocket of its owner, actually 
 set up playing ^ Jenny Jones.'' Primm looked 
 pale, white, red, white again, being most despe- 
 rately frightened. Presently, however, the sound 
 caught the ear of the leader of the orches- 
 tra, who slowly and cautiously rose from his 
 seat, bow in hand, just like the deadly cobra 
 about to pounce upon its prey ; and soon disco- 
 vering from whence the sound issued, appeared 
 terribly angry, shook his head, bit his lips, shook 
 his bow ; but all to no purpose. Presently, in a 
 half-dreamy manner, Primm looked round at the 
 leader, as if the noise proceeded from him rather 
 than from himself; bringing the gaze of the con- 
 VOL. I. L
 
 146 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 gregation upon the same. This had the effect of 
 making the knight of the bow more enraged than 
 ever ; more especially as in the meantime on went 
 the conceited little instrument, changing from 
 ' Jenny Jones ' to ^ Eule Britannia/ and so on 
 through most of its tunes ; when up rose the leader 
 again, stretched forth his bow, and brought it down 
 on the pate of Primm, who,, on jumping round, 
 saw the same angry visage looking and shaking 
 its head at him, when Primm, having likewise be- 
 come exasperated, shook his head in return ; but 
 still, during this little unpleasant episode, on 
 went the loquacious instrument, revelling in 
 the mischief caused, being determined on play- 
 ing out its whole set of tunes. The people 
 in the body of the chapel looked up, as proof 
 they could hear the profanity that too often went 
 on in the singing-gallery. The clerk, too, in the 
 table-seat stood up, and stretched forward, in an 
 imploring manner, in the direction of the singers. 
 So at last Primm, like a good nursing mother, 
 thought he had better carry the troublesome 
 noisy child out, which went on playing ' God 
 Save the Queen ^ all down the stairs ; the leader 
 observing, as he passed, that he never saw such 
 an impudent little villain before ; although this, 
 dear reader, was as complete an accident as ever 
 happened to an unfortunate urchin.
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 147 
 
 Now singerSj as a class, are usually very sensi- 
 tive beings, and a short rebuke will often go a 
 long way witli them; and it does not require 
 much to be said to send them to their old de- 
 vice of giving up and leaving the congregation 
 to its own resources; and this having been an 
 unusually musical day, seven piepes having been 
 sung and played (one entirely instrumental), the 
 good old minister, after finishing his sermon, 
 considered that a little timely rebuke would be 
 as well, in order to check any undue performances 
 in future. So commenced : 
 
 "Music, instrumental and vocal, can be used 
 in the beautiful expression of our sympathies. 
 Music hath charms ; music can charm the savage 
 soul; music, indeed, is an assemblage of the 
 sweetest sounds that can be produced by man 
 (evident satisfaction in the countenances of the 
 performers) ; but, my dear friends,^^ added the 
 minister, "there is a possibility of having too 
 much even of a good thing (frowns from the 
 performers). My dear friends, I need say no 
 more; I am sure you will kindly take, what is 
 kindly meant.^' 
 
 But this address, short as it was, had a sad 
 effect upon the orchestra; some of whom went 
 home, and came out no more openly in the gal- 
 lery ; for, as before remarked, musicians are very 
 sensitive beings. l 2
 
 148 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 Haymaking liad now commenced on an exten- 
 sive scale; and Mr. John, as usual, liad been 
 round invitingf volunteers to enter his fields, and 
 have a bit of fun at harrest; which always 
 turned out very hard work ; for he had a most 
 cunning practice of placing his volunteer friends 
 between the paid labour, as he would have placed 
 an uncertain colt between a pair of tried team- 
 sters, and in this way secured the right number of 
 turns from his young friends. In order, likewise, 
 to obtain a fair day^s work for a fair day's wages, 
 from his people, he was in the habit of bringing 
 a man from one of his barges on the river to 
 undertake the management of the same. This 
 man, he considered, possessed qualities equal 
 to the task of leading the corps de harrest. He 
 was a short-necked, stout-built, bull-dog-look- 
 ing fellow, of the pugilistic breed, possessing 
 much physical pride, which appeared not to be 
 under the control of any proportional mental 
 capacity; a little below the middle height, and 
 most dogged, unamiable, and morose in dispo- 
 sition; but, as Mr. John expressed it, "just the 
 size chap to whip um up to it ; but having usually 
 lived on ship-board, he did not really understand 
 much of the process of farming.^' He might have 
 been consideerd more in the light of an amphi- 
 bious animal, whose proper occupation was to
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 149 
 
 find sustenance in aquatic, rather than agrarian 
 life ; and this want of knowledge, frequently got 
 him into rather hot water with his employer, who 
 designated him his '' ganger ;'' and occasionally, 
 when his master entered the field, he would stalk 
 away with him, receiving all the confidential in- 
 structions considered by the master necessary to 
 be known by him. Sometimes, too, Mr. John made 
 a sort of pet of this fellow, and his name being 
 Joseph, would address him in the endearing term 
 of ^' Joie.^' It always appeared to Bob, however, 
 that Mr. John made a pet of Joie, just as some- 
 persons of very bad taste would of a crocodile, 
 boa, or any other unloveable animal. It could 
 not, certainly, have been his exterior physical ap- 
 pearance that the master admired ; it must rather 
 have been some interior mental qualification 
 probed by Mr. John, but which was not com- 
 prehended by a shghter capacity. So when oc- 
 casionally walking together, with hands behind, 
 and heads down, for the servant had imitated 
 the attitude of the master to a t, Mr. John would 
 commence ; — 
 
 " Now Joie, I say, keep them at it ; don't let 
 them rest too often Hke, but keep them moving. 
 I allis think it a good plan to put the women 
 folks and children in the middle of the rakers ; 
 say between yourself, as ganger, and two of the
 
 150 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 best, beliind; then, don^t ve see, Joie, dimme, 
 Joie ! they must go on." 
 
 This word '' dimme," Mr. John sometimes 
 used as a prefix or as an affix ; therefore, some- 
 times it would be "Dimme, Joie!" or, "Joie, 
 dimme ! " but it was a word to which he was very 
 partial. To all these instructions Joie would 
 answer "Ay, ay. Sir !" but never remembered one- 
 half his master's instructions, nor executed one- 
 third of the same. Sometimes, in consequence, 
 the master got angry with his unmanageable pet ; 
 when a regular quarrel would spring up between 
 them, and high words flow freely ; when Mr. John 
 would get into a towering passion, and stutter to 
 such a degree, that he had to cool down, and 
 commence again ; but still he managed to get 
 out some disagreeable snatches, not always ap- 
 proved of, or appreciated by, Joie. 
 
 " Dimme, Joie ! " he commenced one day, as 
 they were walking, tete-a-tete as usual ; " you 
 land lubber, you river shrimp, I should like to 
 know what you know about harrest ? Dimme, 
 when you became my ganger I told ye ye were 
 to stick close to my orders in every respect ; and 
 now, dimme, Joie ! Joie, dimme ! you have just 
 told the people to turn the swards against the 
 wind, dimme. ^'VTiy, you sea dog, don^t you see 
 the effect of this ? how much labour and time
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES . 151 
 
 are lost, and that^s money to me ! Why, tliere^s 
 no end to the loss, and just because you will use 
 your own ass^s way here, instead of turning the 
 hay with the wind. You,' Joie, dimme, have got 
 them all turning it right again it/^ 
 
 ^^Well,'' replied Joie, "I thought I had better 
 have it turned that way, mester." 
 
 " Thought ! '^ said the master ; ^' Dimme, Joie, 
 you have no right to think, I tell ye ; you must 
 let others think for you here ; I think ; and you — 
 you sea-serpent — you slippery eel, have the im- 
 pudence to go and onthink all again. What can a 
 sea-lobster like you know about haymaking ? yet 
 you sea-dog you, you take upon you to teach me, 
 who have allis been a haymaker. I tell ye what 
 it is, Joie, dimme ! if you go on like this Til keep 
 you to the ' Sarah Anne,^ and you shall never step 
 on shore to have a bit of fun at harrest, I tell ye.^^ 
 
 Then cooling down a little, the master would 
 begin again, " Now, Joie, don't you see the effect 
 of this ? By taking your own pig-headed way 
 you have just lost one half-hour at least. Don't 
 ye see, dimme, Joie ! Joie, dimme ! don't you 
 see, you rogue, time is money to me ? There now, 
 there's sixpence for you; mind and not get 
 drunk, and allis obey my orders, dimme." 
 
 " Rather warm," said the foreman, as he turned 
 away ; " little pots are soon hot, and empty casks
 
 152 THE MODERX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 make a great sound. ^Twas a precious rough 
 squall ; I wonder didn^t make me tack about a 
 bit ; never mind, afterwards came a silver shower. 
 Master's right, time is money, sure enough. 
 Why, here I ain't been more than a quarter of 
 an hour learning all these destructions. And 
 here's a delightful silver sixpence, — two pots of 
 threepenny, or one of sixpenny, to-night. Joie,' 
 dimme ! dimme, Joie ! you are a lucky dog, 
 after all. I only wish I was a lawyer, and got 
 my money by jaw. Methinks they make it easier 
 than I do." And so commenced turning the 
 swaths in the right direction. 
 
 We must now leave Mr. John attending to the 
 productions of Wisdom's Acres, and the other 
 little businesses of his life^ in which he was 
 doubly anxious, now that he had been blessed 
 with a little son, whom every one agreed was 
 growing exactly Hke the father, " a real chip of 
 the old block ; " adding, '' that so long as the 
 young one survived, the elder would never be 
 dead." 
 
 Little Uncertainty, too, I must observe, had 
 been duly baptized and vaccinated ; so that the 
 mother now considered him safe for both worlds, 
 as the usual forms had been gone thfough ; Mr. 
 John, too, honoured the church, on the occasion 
 of the naming, with his presence ; but Mrs. John,
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 153 
 
 not permitting him to enter tlie sacred edifice in 
 white gabardine, turned up from its hiding-place 
 his wedding-coat and waistcoast; which, although 
 in cut and pattern were a little out of date, were 
 passable in the society of trees and shrubs; and, 
 as Mr, John looked in the glass, for the first 
 time for many years, he observed, '' Dimme, 
 missis ! methinks I look fust-rate/^ 
 
 The widow and her daughters lived according to 
 their ma^s idea of gentility, in the cottage before 
 named, not caring for nor thinking much about 
 Little Uncertainty, with his unanticipated ad- 
 vent, which had rendered null and void a clause 
 which stood previously in their favour in their 
 pa^s will ; for, as Mrs. Gr. expressed herself, 
 " She did not care a rap ; as she very well knew 
 her fresh-looking daughters would marry exceed- 
 ingly well before long ; they could not help doing 
 so, with their personal charms, and a thousand 
 pounds, plump down, on their wedding-day ; 
 the only difficulty would be for her and them 
 to know out of such a posse of ambitious lords 
 which to settle upon. The thing had already 
 commenced; a few more genteel parties, and a 
 little more of the light fantastic, and everything 
 would go on most favourably ; and, as for Mr. John 
 and his brat, I don^t care a rap ! I don't care 
 a rap ! '' she repeated.
 
 154 
 
 CHAPTER YIII. 
 
 " Birds, through the wastes of the trackless air, 
 Ye have a guide, and shall we despair ? 
 Ye over desert and deep have passed, 
 And so shall we reach our bright home at last." 
 
 Hemans. 
 
 It was summer. The sun, great ruler of the 
 seasons, projected his rays in the meridian tide 
 in almost perpendicular direction, in consequence 
 of which, the shadows grew more diminutive in 
 size, and indistinct in outline. The flowers — the 
 pretty flowers, jewels of nature — flourished in 
 their highest refulgence, and rejoiced in the warm 
 beams that brought forth in their most enchant- 
 ing hues, and sweetest fragrance. 
 
 The tiny insects, doubly diligent and active, 
 buzzed from leaf to leaf and flower to flower, 
 or crossed and recrossed the path, — to them a 
 mighty road, — in search of winter^ s store, or 
 sweetest nectar ; catching with delight the sunny 
 hour, the day of action with them, a frail people.
 
 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE. 155 
 
 The birds hushed their varied melodies, and 
 betook themselves to the shady grove, or denser 
 forest, till evening's cooler breeze. 
 
 The cattle, oppressed with languor, and tor- 
 mented by the relentless gadfly, thrust their heads 
 and fiery eyes into the hedge of thorns, or 
 brushed their delicate sides with wild excitement, 
 along the pendent branches ; the younger and 
 more foolish leaving the shelter of hedge and 
 ditch, galloped off at full speed, over field and 
 meadow, brook and ditch, being determined to 
 outstrip their winged oppressors ; but finding all 
 in vain, occasionally stopped, and gave vent to 
 their disappointment in a low subdued bellow. 
 While the sheep, patient, and inactive, with hang- 
 ing heads, and heaving sides, calmly and resign- 
 edly awaited the setting sun. 
 
 The horses, too, as they passed to and fro laden 
 with summer's produce, heated and excited, 
 craved the cooling spring. The geese and ducks, 
 with yellow broods, reposed lazily upon the bosom 
 of the ponds ; whilst the hens and chickens 
 basked in and lashed the dust into clouds. All 
 nature, indeed, spoke in emphatic accents of 
 summer's reign. 
 
 In the front of yonder cottage, too, with 
 thatched roof and pigsty at the gable, and 
 Esquimaux-looking huts in front, stood Dame
 
 156 THE MODERX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 Dowel, tlie mistress of the establishmeiit. There 
 stood the old dame with door-key in one hand and 
 frying-pan in the other, vnth which she produced 
 a deafening sonorous sound, in order, as she sup- 
 posed, to allure her bees from taking too extended 
 a flight when on the eve of swarming. There 
 had been no little commotion for days in the 
 hive, which she anxiously watched, in order to 
 administer the usual antidote. All animals love 
 music, whether they love noise is another matter ; 
 at any rate, there she stood, banging away with 
 determined energy, repeating, as she did so, — 
 
 " Come back bees, come back bees, 
 Fly not away to yonder trees." 
 
 This was the antidote her mother applied on 
 similar occasions, and her mother before her, and 
 she would have never forgiven herself had she 
 lost a swarm having neglected the supposed 
 charm. How pleased she was to see them alight 
 on her plum-tree ! to see the new queen enveloped 
 by the willing and obedient multitude, looking 
 in appearance much like a cluster of brown 
 grapes, but, in reality, a lump of the most active 
 and energetic matter possibly to be imagined. 
 And in the direction of yon stream, too, could be 
 heard the bleating of sheep and barking of dogs ; 
 but it was not the murderous butcher with his 
 cart that aroused the timid flock ; but their
 
 OR, EUSTIC RE^HNISCEXCES. 157 
 
 friends cleansing their fleece, preparatory to re- 
 lieving them of the burden. And stretched at 
 his greatest longitude, lay old Boxer. No, he was 
 not dead, nor sleeping; for the sly fellow^ s eye 
 was still slightly open, and in a moment would 
 have sprung into action at the sound of the mas- 
 ter's whistle. 
 
 On such a day it was that Farmer Brunt, a 
 friend of Bob's father, rode up to the gate (on his 
 old Jet, as he called his rider, she being black), 
 and to whom I must now, in few words as possi- 
 ble, introduce the reader. 
 
 Farmer Brunt was a man of between fifty and 
 sixty years of age, tall, and of spare habit, and, 
 to the close observer, would have impressed the 
 mind and conveyed the idea of a man of restless, 
 energetic habits, and one who had never per- 
 mitted sedentary ease to cover his bones with any 
 superabundance of matter. There he waited on 
 old Jet, waiting to see Bob's sire. Old Jet, it 
 must be told too, was a nag of some twenty sum- 
 mers, and whose pace at present was. an easy 
 jog, jog, to which pace she and her master had 
 agreed many years ; she had been accustomed to 
 all kinds of work from a colt, therefore the 
 plough, the waggon, the cart, the saddle, came 
 alike to her ; she had no will in the matter, but, 
 like a good soldier, was ready for every duty, 
 without a question on the subject.
 
 158 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 Farmer Brunt's greatest pace, however, was 
 five miles an hour, and beyond this fixed rate he 
 never cared to travel, and if any of his neigh- 
 bours rode faster than this, " There they go,'' he 
 would say, " there they go, riding away from the 
 money/' There he sat on his thick-legged Jet, 
 who ever and anon lashed him with her super- 
 fluity of tail, wielded not exactly in mathematical 
 precision, in order to discharge the voracious flies 
 penetrating her devoted sides ; there he sat, 
 dressed as usual in white gabardine, corduroys, 
 gaiters ending in toes, and broad felt hat. But 
 be it known, that on Sundays he exchanged the 
 gabardine for blue coat with brass buttons, which 
 coat had held together since his wedding-day, as 
 some determined, but a point upon which the 
 writer is not exactly certain ; but we know that 
 with care such an article will last a long time, 
 and this had a deal of care, indeed it might have 
 been judiciously termed a sacred coat, as it seldom 
 went anywhere but to church. 
 
 " Good morrow, neighbour," commenced the 
 farmer, addressing Bob's father ; ^' methinks we 
 shall have a good harrest to-year." 
 
 " Yes," replied Bob's sire ; '' a fine day, but 
 rather too hot." 
 
 '' Hot, do call it, eh ? Well, maybe like it's a 
 little warm, but you sort of folks don't seem to
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 159 
 
 stand weather anyhows ; this is fine weather to- 
 year, see how yeller the corn is getting already ; 
 why we shall be able to take the field in a week 
 or two, if it goes on like this, I can tell ye. I 
 thought I would just ride over, and see if the 
 youngster had got his holidays, and if so, thought 
 perhaps he would like to come over to old farm 
 a week or two, and have a little shooting, and 
 the likes onH, it will do his health good ; we have 
 a terrible lot of sparrows to-year, the laziest of 
 all birds, they are, 1^11 be bound, for they^ll 
 never budge a peg so long as a bit of corn re- 
 mains, they are playing the deuce we't; I should 
 think they thrash out bushels of a morning; 
 so thought the boy would like the sport of shoot- 
 ing at um a bit ; won^t kill many, may be, but ^11 
 frighten them off", and that will do as well.'' 
 
 For Bob's part he liked the idea exceedingly, 
 for here was a far wider domain to wander over 
 than Wisdom's Acres. Here were not only acres 
 but hides, over which, Eobinson Crusoe-like, with 
 gun on shoulder, and sheep dog by his side (to an- 
 swer the purpose of a retriever), he could ramble. 
 
 Bob knew Farmer Brunt well, and felt fully sa- 
 tisfied that beneath that rough exterior, that arti- 
 ficial shell, was hidden a kind and afi'ectionate 
 disposition ; his, in fact, might have been con- 
 sidered a disposition in disguise, having, from a
 
 160 THE MODEKN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 boy, been surrounded hj, and ruling over perhaps 
 tbe lowest and most uneducated class of English- 
 men^ to whom courtesy and leniency would, in all 
 probability, have been taken for and construed 
 into weakness and irresolution; lie found it, 
 therefore, necessary to assume, however painful 
 to himself, the armour of apparent severity, in 
 order to prevent any neglect of duty that might 
 otherwise have occurred. To the superficial ob- 
 server, therefore, the man appeared morose and 
 unamiable, but still even to him it not unfre- 
 quently appeared that some of the more soft and 
 kind feelings were struggling to be set free. Thus 
 one would come and say, " Jack is taken ill. 
 Master, and obliged to leave the field.^^ 
 
 " Yes, just like him,^^ the master would answer ; 
 *^^allis ill when there^s plenty of work to do, 
 1^11 be bound ; well, he can^t go, that's certain.'^ 
 
 '^ But he has gone,'' returned the servant. 
 
 " He has left, didst say ? Well, then, I suppose 
 he must be ill ; go and see if thee canst do any- 
 thing for 'n ; but don't say I sent thee, mind." 
 
 Then would come bis regular petitioner, Betty 
 (too high-minded to place herself under the care 
 of the parish), to whom he would return, in al- 
 lusion to her curtseying propensities, " What be 
 arter there, bobbing up and down in that silly 
 fashion for ?"
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 161 
 
 " And please, master, Betty very hungry, and 
 lias not tasted a pincli of snuff for a week/^ 
 
 " Yes, and bother to you, and so you have been 
 these many years past," returned the farmer; 
 " and I tell ye what it is now, I won^t be hunted 
 about in this manner by a set of useless paupers, 
 — and as to snuff, indeed ! why I don^t take it 
 myself, it's a dirty, wasteful, bad habit ; hungry, 
 you say, yet the little you get goes to supply 
 that nasty, dusthole practice ! '' 
 
 " Poor missus used to give me some,'' returned 
 Betty again. 
 
 On which, away would go the farmer into the 
 house and close the door after him, being to all 
 appearances very displeased, at the same time 
 calling to his old servant, Molly, to go and give 
 her a loaf of bread and sixpence for her snuff, and 
 tell her not to pay Old Farm another visit for a 
 long time to come. 
 
 " I told her that, last time," said Molly. 
 
 " I don't care — I don't care," replied her 
 master ; " do as I tell ye, and don't stand preach- 
 ing at me in that way, but go." 
 
 " Poor soul !" he would commence as soon as 
 Molly was gone, "it's bad to be hungry, to be a 
 poor houseless wanderer, and the only comfort she 
 seems to have now is a pinch of snuff; and who 
 would be such a base thief as to rob her of that ? 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 162 THE MODEEN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 Not Brunt. She was well off once, — the pride of 
 the village; her husband, too, was a good partner, 
 a kind father, and affectionate friend ; but all gone 
 — gone, my poor wife too. Yes ; peace to her dear 
 soul ; she misses her now, and I miss her too ; in 
 that respect we are both alike. ^ Missus gave her 
 some,^ she said. Yes ; she^s right ; it was given 
 with all the kind feelings of a tender woman^s 
 heart. Yes ; we miss her, Betty. ' I can't send 
 you away,' I said so last time, Molly says, and so 
 I shall again, I guess, if you call here. I can't 
 refuse you, poor soul ; it is bad to be friendless, 
 houseless, destitute. Yes, Betty, like you I am 
 lonely ; but I have, through mercy, a few com- 
 forts, and you shall never want a pinch of snuff, 
 if I know it." 
 
 Then comes Molly again in a great hurry, 
 
 '^ Here, master, here's a man has brought this ; 
 I think it is a begging-paper. He says his oss 
 is dead, and he wants to buy another." 
 
 '^ Take it away, take it away, woman ; what 
 have I to do with people's dead osses. I have 
 enough of my own, and too many sometimes ; and 
 do T go snivelling about the parish with a paper 
 signed by the parson and squire ? Not I indeed, 
 shouldn't think of doing such a thing." 
 
 " Yes, master, but you have plenty more osses ; 
 but that was the only one he had."
 
 OK, KUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 163 
 
 " Well, I can^t help it ; take it away and tell 
 him I have nothing for him/' 
 
 Presently the farmer would call out again — 
 
 "Here, Molly; did you send that fellow 
 away V* 
 
 ''Yes, master; and he's halfway across the 
 orchard/' 
 
 AVlien, on going to the door, he would shout 
 out, " Eh, you Sir ! where the deuce are you 
 going off to in such a hurry ? Here, I am sorry 
 you have had the loss, and here's ten shillings for 
 you to help get another, but don't come again, or 
 you'll get nothing, I can tell you." And the 
 farmer would return to his room, feeling doubly 
 happy that he had shown mercy to the poor man, 
 for, as the poet has it — 
 
 " It is twice bless'd, 
 It blesseth him that gives, and him that takes." 
 
 Farmer Brunt was not a man of words, but of 
 
 deeds, one of whom, as described by another — 
 
 " Did good by stealth, 
 And blushed to find it fame." 
 
 The farmer had been a widower many years be- 
 fore Bob had the privilege of knowing him. His 
 wife dying left him with two sons, — one of whom, 
 tiring of the slow but sure process of plough- 
 ing the yielding soil, left his father's house in 
 order to plough the ever eccentric main, and the 
 
 M 2
 
 164 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 ship having set sail for British. North America, 
 was never more heard of, the supposition being 
 that she fomidered in the boundless Atlantic ; the 
 other, longing to follow to the field some war- 
 like lord, died in India, after a victory over the 
 Sikhs, having been mortally wounded during the 
 action. So that Farmer Brunt had, more than 
 once, been compelled to quaff the bitter cup of 
 bereavement, of which all men are compelled to 
 drink, more or less, during their mortal existence. 
 His housekeeper, at this time, was his maiden 
 sister. Miss Rachel, a most active and indefati- 
 gable lady of domesticity as ever followed up and 
 ruled over the staff domestic, — of whom she re- 
 marked not one of the breed could be trusted ; 
 a regular set of eye-servants, and deceivers, from 
 whom nothing of any good could be expected, — 
 no religion, no morality, no truthfulness, nothmg 
 whatever. So having laid this down as an axiom, 
 she lived that most uncomfortable life of spending 
 and being spent, in the disagreeable office of check- 
 mating her employees ; and when her lady visi- 
 tors called upon her to have a little friendly 
 chat, again and again would she, to the horror of 
 the same, introduce the subject of servants. "A 
 most odious set," she would say ; " my horror by 
 day, and they give me the nightmare when I retire 
 for rest;" and, in this most unedifying manner
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 165 
 
 talk the afternoon away, until the subject became 
 quite an infliction ; making her friends resolve, as 
 they left, never to visit her again. Then, secur- 
 ing the farmer^ s ear for a little moment, would at 
 once commence, " Yes, brother ; an awful set 
 they are, indeed.^' 
 
 '^ Yes, Hachie,'^ would return her brother ; 
 *^ and always have been, I reckon ; but we must 
 do all we can with them, and for them.'^ 
 
 " Ah, that's what you always say, brother,^' re- 
 turned the sister sharply. ^' I am sure, even to- 
 day, — now it is enough to vex the patience of a 
 thousand Jobs, — ^just listen brother, to-day Molly 
 took the pudding up, and let it fall immediately, 
 breaking the basin into a hundred pieces ; yester- 
 day, Betty allowed the tea things to slip, and then 
 a cup was smashed, and the other day I peeped 
 into Betty's box, and there, oh horrors ! I found 
 my kid gloves, entirely spoiled, and other things 
 that I have had by me from a girl. I say it 
 makes my very flesh creep, it does. You don't 
 know, brother, what it is to manage servants, — 
 that is, women- servants." 
 
 And so she would continue to proceed, until 
 the farmer would become quite exhausted of pa- 
 tience ; at the least appearance of which, she w^ould 
 tell him that he did not know what it was to 
 manage servants, — that is, women-servants. Miss
 
 166 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 Eachel_, too, was exceedingly religious, in her 
 way; she liked to attend church, when a conve- 
 nient season offered, — that was, when there was 
 no home or servants requiring her immediate 
 attention. In her character there was, and 
 ever had been, a superfluity of Martha, with a 
 minor portion of Mary. But still. Miss Rachel^ 
 was pious, too, — at least Bob, as a boy, thought 
 so, as she repeated all the responses with 
 exact precision, and in a most emphatic and au- 
 dible manner, and never neglected finding her 
 feet, when the National Anthem was played or 
 sung in her presence ; on which occasion, too, if 
 she saw any ill-behaved, irreverent young man, 
 who dared to keep his hat on during the exercise, 
 at him she would shake her head, at the same 
 time smile in a most complacent manner, as if she 
 really pitied his ignorance, and until young Igno- 
 ramus felt bound to uncover ; from this, too, we 
 might argue that Miss Rachel was not only pious, 
 but loyal likewise. But, as before remarked, it 
 was not an easy matter for Miss Rachel to get 
 to church, as, before leaving home, she had to see 
 that every cupboard and drawer was locked, and 
 the keys carefully stowed away in her comprehen- 
 sive and very extensive pocket, slung round her 
 waist ; so in fact hers was not rest, for she did 
 not only carry her cares to the church door, but
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 167 
 
 even into tlie cliurch, having tlie reminder of the 
 
 same in the iron wards in her pocket. She 
 
 never took the precaution to banish care in the 
 
 sense the poet has it, where he says : — 
 
 *' Far from my thoughts, vain world, begone, 
 Let my religious hours alone." . . . 
 
 No;. for she had a world of care, and ever and anon, 
 as she sat in the pew, she would spasmodically 
 slap the outside of her pocket to assure herself of 
 the presence of the iron guards ; and, no sooner 
 had the clergyman pronounced the last Amen ! 
 than she was off, and on the road before any of 
 her neighbours had left their seats, lest she should 
 be interrupted in her egress from the building. 
 Her brother often expostulated with her on her 
 careful anxiety, telling her that if she went on so, 
 she would get quite thin, which by the bye, she 
 had already got ; indeed, the farmer quite pitied 
 his sister's disturbed and restless disposition, but 
 all to no purpose ; for Miss Rachel would always 
 be looking after somebody or something, and 
 then, and only then, was she in her proper ele- 
 ment. At church, her particular business was to 
 look after Bob, — to see that he never fell off to 
 sleep, and, singular enough, if only one eye 
 winked, she was as sure to observe it as if he had 
 snored outright ; and so sure and certain as an 
 eye commenced failing, down would come her
 
 168 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 little slippered foot on Bob's, shaking her head. 
 and repeating, "Don't sleep — don't sleep, you 
 naughty boy. You naughty boy to go to sleep 
 in church !" But one Sunday, and that a very 
 hot one in July, to Bob's utter astonishment. 
 Miss Rachel herself gave way to the great sub- 
 duer ; yes. Miss Rachel actually fell asleep ; and 
 Bob thinking it would be a kind action on his 
 part for many similar favours on hers, leaned 
 forward over the wide high seats in order to touch 
 her toe, but in so doing, lost his balance, slipped 
 off the seat, and came down much harder on her 
 foot than he intended ; Bob will never forget how 
 frightened she was and he was. She jumped up 
 from the seat, he did the same, but in so doing 
 all the books fell out of her lap, causing the 
 greatest commotion in the church ; the congre- 
 gation all looking in the direction of their pew ; 
 one gentleman from London, and a visitor at the 
 Squire's, actually, to the great annoyance of Miss 
 Rachel, pointed his quizzing-glass in their direc- 
 tion ; but Miss Rachel passed it off exceedingly 
 weU from herself to Bob, as she continued shak- 
 ing her head and calling him a naughty boy ! 
 so that all the congregation thought he had ac- 
 tually fallen asleep and dropped from his seat, 
 like Eutychus of old, in that unconscious state. 
 Peace, however, having been restored, and proper
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 169 
 
 reason regained, she bent over to Bob, and 
 calmly remarked, " I was not asleep — I was not 
 asleep V^ 
 
 " Tliat will do very well,'' tliouglit Bob ; " but 
 if you were not actually asleep, you very soon 
 would have been/' 
 
 But Bob usually went to cburch with the 
 farmer, who was ambitious to be considered one 
 of the singers, and consequently took his position 
 in the singing-gallery. Bob liked this much; 
 better, too, because from this pinnacle he had a 
 bird's-eye view of all below. Here sat also the 
 wheelwright and blacksmith, who led the sing- 
 ing ; at least. Bob thought so, by the great ex- 
 ertions they made, the extension of muscle, and 
 holiness of their faces. Music's mishap, indeed ! 
 " tempera ! mores ! " Was there ever a sci- 
 ence so murdered, so ill-used, so caricatured, 
 as the beautiful science of music ? Every child 
 is considered a fit subject for its tormenter ; every 
 rustic considers himself competent to judge of its 
 excellence, and even to maltreat the composition 
 of some of its most eminent composers, the real 
 geniuses of the science. 
 
 The church was small and old-fashioned ; the 
 pews and pulpit of dark oak, were high in the 
 extreme, and served to protect the drowsy 
 sleeper from the vulgar gaze, many of whom
 
 170 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 constantly converted their own partition into a 
 dormitory. 
 
 Sitting in the gallery, of course Bob enjoyed, 
 as remarked before, a bird's-eye view of the scene 
 below. There was the Squire, a little attenuated 
 elderly gentleman, of some threescore years and 
 ten ; there he was, occupying his own pew, known 
 as the ^ Squire's pew' for many antecedent centu- 
 ries; a pew as comfortable as hassocks and cushions 
 could possibly make it ; and, in addition to which, 
 it possessed, to Bob, a most singular novelty, in 
 the shape of a fireplace, in which the day being 
 wet and cold, the butler had ordered a fire to be lit 
 for his master. Now, having never seen the like 
 comfort in a like place before. Bob was particu- 
 larly attentive to the proceedings in the pew of 
 caloric, where, ever and anon, he observed the 
 Squire walk up to the dispenser of heat, and give 
 it a determined poke, rub his hands, and crack 
 his fingers, then return again to the edge of the 
 pew, repeating the responses all the way there 
 and back, with the greatest vehemence ; after 
 which, in a very independent manner, take a sur- 
 vey of the whole congTegation, not forgetting to 
 turn an eye in the direction of the gallery and its 
 occupants, being, as Bob supposed, very much 
 interested in the laborious exertions of the black- 
 smith and wheelwright. Service over, and on
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 171 
 
 their way home, the Squire took the opportunity 
 of speaking to the farmer, in a very condescend- 
 ing manner, as " I was glad to see you at church, 
 farmer ; I was glad to see you, I say, and that lad 
 with you, too," in allusion to Bob ; '' he sings a 
 little, I suppose/' 
 
 " Yes, Sir, comes it a little ; he'll do, I reckon 
 by-and-by, when he has learned a little more/' 
 
 " I hope farmer that you will always consider 
 it a duty to see that all the young people who may 
 be staying at your house, go to church, and be 
 careful to go yourself, farmer, go yourself, 
 farmer, go yourself, you will be the gainer, no 
 one else, no one else." 
 
 These little civilities and observations Bob ob- 
 served pleased the farmer very much; for, al- 
 though Farmer Brunt was not a tenant of the 
 Squire's, yet he liked much to be considered by 
 him, as the Squire was a gentleman highly re- 
 spected in the neighbourhood, and lucky indeed 
 did that man think himself, who got one of his 
 farms to cultivate. 
 
 Game, in the shape of small birds, proved plen- 
 tiful, and often did the farmer arouse Bob from 
 seducing bed and sleep, at the small hour of four, 
 by knocking at his room-door, with " Baily, baily" 
 (baihff) ! "I can't sleep a wink ; methinks I can 
 hear um at the wheat; they will thrash out
 
 172 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 bushels now, they will, if you are not after um 
 shortly/' 
 
 How different in this respect are youth and 
 age ! Youth loves the early morning repose; when, 
 on the contrary, age is wakeful and restless, be- 
 grudging the flying moments ; while the young 
 are prodigal with regard to time, age is parsi- 
 monious and churlish of the same. 
 
 Bob was soon up however, and crossing the 
 fields in pursuit of the feathered depredators, who, 
 after awhile, discovering it was useless attempting 
 to breakfast peaceably off Farmer Brunt's corn, 
 made off to less disturbed quarters. But the 
 early morning ramble in summer, is more than 
 beautiful, and doubly repays the early riser. 
 
 Often has Bob been wending his way through 
 the dewy fields, just as the author of day made 
 his first appearance in the east, in all his vermilion 
 splendour, looking, as he arose higher and higher 
 in the heavens, much like some gorgeous monarch, 
 indeed, preparing to rule the advancing day ; just 
 when the first twitter of the lark is heard, as she 
 rises from her grassy nest, and commences to 
 shake the silvery dew drops from her ready pinions, 
 preparatory for her first essay towards high heaven. 
 Sweet bird ! of all the feathered tribe thou art to 
 me the best; it is true thy plumage is sombre, 
 thy exterior plain, but thy song is sweet and melo- 
 dious, and never to be forgotten at this early hour.
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 173 
 
 " Modest bird of earliest dawn, 
 Aurora owns thee for her son ; 
 Beauteous lark ! with plumage grey, 
 Harbinger of glorious day. 
 I hear thy voice, melodious sound, 
 Higher rising from the ground ; 
 Higher and still higher rise. 
 Till I lose thee in the skies. 
 Descending now more swiftly down, 
 Arrow-headed to the ground ; 
 Maternal care, or earthly tie, 
 Hath brought thee hurried from the sky. 
 No tuneful voice, no song of glee, 
 Returning down, is heard from thee. 
 Some anxious thought or trivial care, 
 Hath occupied such feelings there. 
 Sweet bird ! methinks in thee I view, 
 What every Christian real should do ; 
 At early mom his song of praise. 
 With heart and voice, should upwards raise. 
 But still, like thee, too oft I know, 
 By worldly care he's kept below. 
 Too oft will earth's attractions bind, 
 Too oft, too oft, the Christian's mind." 
 
 " Baily/' commenced Farmer Brunt, as lie 
 and Bob were sitting round the fire one wet au- 
 tumnal evening, " how^s your ammunition getting 
 on ? Don^t be afraid to use it, 1^11 get you plenty 
 more, wlien I go to market ; it is better for me 
 to purcliase a few pounds of powder and sbot, 
 than to lose bushels, I may say quarters of wheat 
 every day, and I see we are getting the upper 
 hand of the smaller fry ; but the Squire's rooks are
 
 174 THE MODERN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 right at it in tlie Ten Acres, I really believe unless 
 you find out some way of stopping the black 
 cawing gentry, there won^t be a tater left ; they 
 are carrying them off by wholesale; I may say 
 regularly digging them up." 
 
 It must be observed here, before proceeding 
 further, that at this time, in rural districts, an 
 erroneous opinion prevailed with respect to our 
 pretty feathered friends ; many persons entertain- 
 ing the idea that birds were the great enemy 
 of the farmer, acted upon this foolish principle 
 in their destruction. 
 
 So it was with Farmer Brunt. It is true, and 
 no one will attempt to deny the same, that during 
 the short season, when the corn stands ripe and 
 yellow in the harvest-field, and if not protected, 
 small birds will devour and beat out a great 
 quantity ; but the remedy in such case is simple 
 and inexpensive, and under the control of every 
 person. For instance, a boy, kept a fortnight or 
 so, will entirely save the corn from these active 
 little self-helpers ; but did the farmer thoroughly 
 understand the wise economy of birds, he would 
 be the last to grudge them this small pittance, 
 but he unfortunately too frequently sees only 
 their present momentary annoyance, without con- 
 sidering their earlier and general good. Birds 
 are a link in the mighty and glorious chain of
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 175 
 
 creation ; the destruction of which link would en- 
 danger the whole chain; all birds, great and small, 
 whether granivorous, insectivorous, carnivorous, 
 or omnivorous, matters not, all for the greater 
 portion of the year subsist almost entirely upon 
 insects and their larvae ; even the too often 
 despised and condemned sparrow is an indus- 
 trious insect-hunter and destroyer. 
 
 Now what a powerful agency we have here for 
 the destruction of these little creatures, called in- 
 sects ! In some parts of the world swarms of in- 
 sects are more dreaded than an army with ban- 
 ners; there is no means of intimidating them, 
 they are a marching devouring army, deaf alike 
 to the cannon^ s roar or musket's crack ; they 
 mock your entreaties, and treat with contempt 
 the puny attempts of man to arrest their progress. 
 Silently and steadily they pursue their march, 
 leaving behind a scene of desolation, that too 
 often makes the owners weep, — having swept 
 from the earth every green blade, leaving nothing 
 for the industrious proprietor but an arid desert. 
 
 Much better for the farmer, when he walks the 
 fields at harvest-time, to see these little pearls of 
 creation partaking of a few grains of corn, for 
 the whole of which he is much indebted to them, 
 and which the report of a gun would frighten 
 away, than to have an army, and in some in-
 
 176 THE MODEBN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 stances, an imperceptible army, sweeping off his 
 hopes while yet in blade. 
 
 In some places an ignorant attempt has been 
 made to get rid of our black cawing friends the 
 rooks, who for centuries had been keeping watch 
 over a certain part of the parish ; but soon, very 
 soon, this piece of wanton cruelty and folly was 
 followed by its just and righteous retribution; 
 their presence in following the plough being soon 
 lamentably missed, by the increase of invaders 
 they alone had the power to search out and 
 bring to trial. Glad were the farmers to wel- 
 come back to their native elms the sable watch- 
 men again. 
 
 Birds are a most important link, we repeat, in 
 the chain of creation. How dull, for instance, 
 would be the rural ramble ; how insipid the coun- 
 try lane, were birds wanting in the landscape ! 
 Is not the eye pleased by their active habits and 
 varied colouring ? the ear gratified and enchanted 
 by their various melody ? How dull, we repeat, 
 would be rural life were the soaring lark, familiar 
 robin, and singing thrush absent ! They are 
 created not only for the security of man ; but for 
 his gratification likewise. He who made them 
 declared them very good ; who, then, by their 
 conduct shall pronounce them bad ? 
 
 Insects, hkewise, are doubtless an important
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 177 
 
 link in this created chain. Some of them, as 
 the bee, silk^vorm, cochineal, gall insect, Spanish 
 fly, and coral worm, are very useful to man in a 
 direct manner. Insects serve also as food for 
 birds, fish, and reptiles ; they are likewise the 
 lowest scavengers of natui^e, not allowing animal 
 or vegetable matter to remain in a putrid state, 
 impregnating the air with a deadly malaria. See 
 the fly, for instance, taking possession of a dead 
 animal in which to lay her eggs, which speedily 
 become maggots, eating the carcase into a honey- 
 comb, and never forsaking the same until every 
 portion of unhealthy matter lias been consumed. 
 But their name is legion, and their appetites most 
 voracious, and increase so rapidly that scarcely 
 have they taken wing, when they commence pro- 
 pagating their species. 
 
 Yes, creation is one vast, perfect and beautiful 
 chain, the removing of one link of which, would 
 endanger the whole. Away with the ignorant 
 and destructive idea of Sparrow Clubs, away with 
 the advertisements of poisons for the wholesale 
 destruction and murder of our pretty friends ! I 
 almost think, indeed, that the legislature ought 
 to establish a law for the protection of small 
 birds, especially during the time of incubation. 
 Parents and teachers should teach their children 
 and scholars the philosophy of birds, and dis- 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 178 THE MODERN PEDAaOGUE. 
 
 courage tlie robbing of birds^ nests as a most 
 wanton and cowardly act. But if no one will 
 speak on tbis subject^ let it be remembered 
 tbere is One who says, " The merciful man is 
 merciful to bis beast/^ and without wbose notice 
 not a sparrow falls.
 
 179 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 " Then dash the brimming cup aside, 
 And spill its purple wine ; 
 Take not its madness to thy lips, 
 
 Let not its curse be thine ; 
 'Tis red and rich, but grief and woe 
 Are hid those rosy depths below." 
 
 Willis. 
 
 One afternoon^ after Farmer Brunt had been ac- 
 tively engaged^ as nsual^ perambulating Ids fields, 
 and looking after tlie common enemy, — "I think/' 
 said he, turning to Bob, " I think we'll go home 
 and see if the chatter- water's ready ;" a con- 
 temptible designation he was accustomed to use 
 in allusion to tea, which he gave that beverage 
 in his younger days, when tea was considered 
 only fit for old ladies, effeminate gentlemen, and 
 children ; he agreed with Cobbett in its thorough 
 condemnation, thinking, with that domestic and 
 political economist, that its tendency served to 
 enfeeble the system, and render the same indis- 
 
 N 2
 
 180 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 posed for bodily exertion, and that the gossip of 
 tlie tea-table proved injurious to both sexes. 
 Bread, beer, and bacon, be always held, were the 
 materials for a working man. " Give bim tea,^^ 
 said be, " and be wastes bis time waiting for tbe 
 kettle to boil, and bis strength and constitution 
 into the bargain, and dies some fifteen years be- 
 fore he should die, had he only lived on proper 
 English fare.^^ This was his philosophy, and he 
 never permitted his own sons to imbibe such a 
 ridiculous Hquid. When first he got married, 
 too, he and his wife had several unpleasant 
 squabbles on this head, but at last he consented 
 to the introduction of the beverage, provided 
 always the cups were very small and really of 
 the original orthodox size. His wife, however, at 
 last introduced him to the system, and Miss Rachel 
 thoroughly confirmed him in the same, and now he 
 confessed to liking a cup of tea, as he said. " as 
 well, pretty nigh, as any old washerwoman.^^ 
 
 So having observed to Bob, " It won^t do to 
 keep you delicate lads without your chatter- 
 water,^^ they made their way to the farmhouse. 
 
 " Dear brother,''^ commenced Miss Eachel, as 
 they entered, '' how late you are, to be sure ; tea 
 has been waiting this half-hour, and the cakes are 
 all getting cold ; and that poor boy, too, I am 
 sure must be wanting his very badly. Now
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 181 
 
 Molly, bring tlie kettle ; dear me, what a time 
 you are to be sure ! I wisli I had gone myself. 
 Servants, — servants, — servants !^^ she repeated; 
 '^really they are the great plague of my life/^ 
 
 "Never mind, Eachel,^^ said the farmer, "I 
 shall only want about six cups and a bushel of 
 chatter/^ 
 
 Scarcely had the farmer commenced his tea, 
 when one of the carters called, saying '' that the 
 horse bought at the fair the day before was taken 
 ill, would not eat his fodder, and breathed hard ; 
 and one of the sheep," he said likewise, " had got 
 on his back and nearly dead/^ 
 
 "Well, now, this is a pretty story," said the 
 farmer. " I declare to goodness that them oss- 
 dealers ought to be exterminated ; it^s a dead 
 take-in now, 1^11 be bound. You can^t trust a 
 fellow to buy a oss for you, but the next day 
 something's wrong we^n. They beat the lawyers, 
 by gore they do, they cheat you before your eyes ; 
 I have a great mind to say I would never buy an- 
 other oss. There's everything in plenty to-year, 
 — grass, corn, food of every kind. God is very 
 good, but your fellow-man can't be trusted a 
 moment. Here, Tom, what's say, the ship is 
 dead ?" 
 
 " No, Master, only got on his back, and doesn't 
 seem well."
 
 182 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 '^ Well, then, tlie ship isn't dead, nor the oss. 
 Maybe they'll both recover ; I won't meet trouble 
 halfway, bothered if I do. Rachie, we'll have 
 the chatter- water." 
 
 " Now, brother, why will you call this delight- 
 ful, comforting, exhilarating, unequalled beve- 
 rage, by that vulgar appellative ?" 
 
 " Never mind, Eachie, what we call it, so that 
 it comes," replied the farmer. 
 
 " Well, Rachie," commenced the farmer again, 
 *' the birds are decreasing, they are gone further 
 afield, and I hope will forget to come back before 
 harrest, I do, for we shall have a thumping ear 
 of corn to-year, I know we shall." 
 
 " Yes, brother, I knew we should get on nicely, 
 only the servants are incorrigible. There's Molly, 
 now, constantly tormenting me ; why, only last 
 night as ever was, she spoiled a pan of new milk, 
 — there was a pretty loss, now ; it is enough to 
 ruin us all, that it is. I declare to goodness 
 that there is nothing but cheating and roguery in 
 the world ; it was but yesterday that a man called 
 with apples to sell, — I am almost positive they 
 were moonshines, and grew in our orchard. The 
 day before a man called, led by a dog, and asking 
 to have pity on the blind. I just raised his eye- 
 lids with my finger and thumb, and, to my horror, 
 discovered the fellow could see, — see, yes, as well
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 183 
 
 as I can ! Oh, it is dreadful ! I really tliiiik, 
 brother, that the world must come to an end, 
 going on so." 
 
 '^ I hope not, Rachie," replied the farmer, '^ for 
 according to your account, folks are not fit for 
 the change, I reckon." 
 
 ^' Yes, brother, it is very well for you to talk 
 in that easy manner, when the very tea you are 
 drinking is an imposition ; I am certain of it, for 
 on looking into the pot the other day, after the 
 water was ofi", I am satisfied that many of the 
 leaves grew in England on the sloe bushes, and 
 never saw China at all, and at the bottom of the 
 cups there was sand, yes, real sand, — grit, — a 
 most injurious thing to introduce into the system." 
 
 "Never mind, never mind, Eacliie," said the 
 farmer again ; " that last cup was a nice un, I 
 should like just such another." 
 
 During Miss Rachel's edifying conversation. 
 Bob was deliberating on the best means to be 
 adopted in overcoming the Squire's sable friends, 
 who had made a regular coup de main on the 
 field of potatoes ; and, to judge from appearances, 
 did not intend drawing oflF their forces until the 
 whole field had been regularly conquered. For 
 days Bob had been endeavouring to get within 
 shot of them, in order to recover one or two for 
 scarecrows ; but all to no purpose, as they were
 
 184 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 always cautious to place sentinels upon the highest 
 branches of the surrounding trees ; and the most 
 provoking part of the business was, that just 
 as he came within 'shot, at the moment of ele- 
 vating his gun, the ominous '^caw^^ was sounded, 
 when up the whole flock rose in a perpendicular 
 direction, each with a potato, a few of which 
 would have gone far to fill the bushel. Bob at 
 last, however, arrived at the conclusion, that to 
 endeavour to steal upon them in this way was 
 useless; so hit upon another far more efficient 
 plan. Having procured two or three steel traps, 
 he baited each with a potato, and planted them 
 amongst the potato haum, allowing the potato 
 only to be seen ; and the next morning, to his 
 great satisfaction, two were caught, and flutter- 
 ing, but not another within sight; for, as they 
 soared aloft, they plainly saw in what a predica- 
 ment their friends were in, so never ventured 
 near the field again ; but, in order to strengthen 
 their memory. Bob hung the dead ones up on 
 the spot on which they were captured. 
 
 I allude to this more particularly to show how 
 easy it is to stop the devastations of birds when 
 they occasionally prove injurious, although other- 
 wise the friends of man, without the ignorant and 
 wicked idea of attempting their utter annihilation. 
 
 ^^ Kerens a pretty bother ! ^^ said Molly, coming
 
 OR, RUSTIC RE]i:iNISCENCES. 185 
 
 into tlie house one unusually liot day ; '' why, as 
 I am a living sinner, if they ain^t bringing home 
 Sam and Tom, and they say both have been sun- 
 struck ! '' 
 
 " Well now, if that ain^t a most awkward 
 piece of business, and no mistake ; nothing short 
 of an inquest, 1^11 be bound; and I shall get 
 mightily reprimanded for allowing the chaps to 
 reap in the middle of the day," said the farmer. 
 
 Presently the bearers, with the sufferers, en- 
 tered the house, the latter of whom presented a 
 deathlike appearance ; indeed, being quite black 
 in the face. 
 
 ^' Poor fellows ! " said the farmer ; " I didn^t 
 want them to work like that, I didn^t now." 
 
 But, after closer inspection, the olfactories gave 
 evident proofs that the sufferers were not victims of 
 coup de soleil, but of something more terrestrial ; 
 in fact, there were unmistakeable evidences that 
 the patients had been making too free with alco- 
 holic drinks. It appeared, from inquiry, that a 
 ship-captain, whose vessel lay in the canal, near 
 the cornfield, had been treating the simple swains 
 to too bountiful a supply of spirits, and which 
 proved so injurious to the same. The farmer, 
 when he had discovered his mistake, laughed 
 outright, saying, at the same time, 
 
 " Well, to be sure now, what a downright ass I
 
 186 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 must have been that I didn^t tliink of tliat be- 
 fore ! " 
 
 " Yes, brotber," commenced Miss Eacbel ; " it 
 is just what I say; servants, I declare, are the 
 plague of our lives ; they are, I say again with- 
 out fear of any contradiction, a drunken, lazy 
 set. Here, now, is a pretty disgraceful affair, and 
 if one should die, here will be an inquest, report- ' 
 ing us all over the country ! ^' 
 
 The doctor having arrived, confirmed the sus- 
 picions, and pronounced the men to be deeply 
 suffering from the too free indulgence of ardent 
 spii'its, which in all probability would end, in 
 one instance, if not in both, in immediate death ; 
 and, in a few minutes, the man called Sam suc- 
 cumbed. Molly, running, entered the room, look- 
 ing dreadfully alarmed. 
 
 ^^ What is the matter, Molly?" said the farmer. 
 
 ^^ Oh, master, Sam's gone dead, quite dead; 
 and Tom is raving like a madman ! " 
 
 " Poor fellow ! " said the farmer again ; " he 
 was a hardworking chap as any on the farm, and 
 has been with me five years come Michaelmas ; 
 but drink ! drink ! thou great destroyer of soul 
 and bodv, would that I could banish thee for 
 
 ever: 
 
 \'' 
 
 " Oh, master ! '^ commenced Molly again ; '^ oh, 
 do come and see Tom; he is right mad like.
 
 187 
 
 tlirows his arms about^ and talks so queer tliat I 
 am afered to go nigli Hm^ that I am now ! ^' 
 
 Tom was evidently suffering from fits of deli- 
 rium, from the effect of the alcohol, and running 
 on in a most incoherent manner, ever and anon 
 calling to his poor dead companion, as — 
 
 " Sam, my boy ! Oh, how hot ! My head ! my 
 head ! There they go ! Awful ! awful ! Reap 
 away, ye witches ! Go it, ye demons ! Yes, 
 there they go again ! Grrind away, ye imps ! 
 grind away ! Ha ! ha ! ha ! Sam, you fool, don^t 
 go ! Drink, ye devils ! drink ! My head ! my 
 head ! Where am I ? " 
 
 A few moments^ cessation, and again the pa- 
 tient would relapse into his former state. 
 
 " Look ! sailors reaping — reaping the sea ! Cut 
 away ! Oh, could I get loose ! Sam, crush them ! 
 smash them ! Imps, leave me ! leave me ! here 
 they come ! Horrid sharks ! frightful jaws ! See 
 them rising out of the sea ! '^ 
 
 " Oh, Miss Eachel ! " commenced Molly again ; 
 " what a dreadful, awful state the poor chap must 
 be in, to be sure ! Mythinks he must have seen 
 all the hobgoblings Betty reads about in her 
 story-book/^ 
 
 " Yes, Molly," answered Miss Rachel ; ^' and 
 perhaps he will wander beyond come-back too, as 
 his companion has done. This all comes of
 
 188 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 drink^ Molly. I have not patience ; I can scarcely 
 contain myself when I think of it. There must 
 now be an inquest and funeral for one^ and the 
 doctor for the other/^ 
 
 But with the attention of the doctor, and the 
 poultices prepared by Miss Rachel, Tom appeared, 
 at times, to be coming round, when again he 
 would relapse into a prolonged fit of delirium,' 
 repeating, in a most incoherent manner — 
 
 " Sam, save me ! ^^^lere am I ? Eolling sea ! 
 grinning monsters ! Tear awaV;, ye imps ! Go 
 up the ladder ! up the ladder I say, go ! '^ 
 
 " A bad case,^^ said the doctor, shaking his 
 head; "constantly relapsing; and, unless he can 
 be kept c^lm and quiet as possible, there is the 
 greatest danger of confirmed madness, or per- 
 haps death itself/^ 
 
 " \ATiat a sad affair this is, to be sure ! ^^ said 
 the farmer the day after ; " here I have been at Old 
 Farm all my life nearly, yet did I never have any- 
 thing happen of this kind before/' 
 
 " Yes,'' replied Miss Rachel ; " you are too 
 easy, brother, too easy, I must repeat it, with 
 servants." 
 
 " I can't prevent people drinking, can I ? 
 Must I remain home from market, and every 
 other business, to prevent people killing them- 
 selves ? " said the farmer. " Here, we shall have
 
 OK, KUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 189 
 
 the people presently to hold the inquest over 
 poor Sam. What no-vv, Molly ? " 
 
 "Laws, why if there ain^t the coronation in- 
 quest men coming across Five Acres ! I hope 
 when I dies I sha^n^t have so many men to look 
 at me I do, now. Dear me, to be sure, what a 
 lot of live ones to look at one that^s dead ! 
 There, go away,^^ said Miss Rachel, "and don^t 
 stand gaping there, but go, and show them to 
 the granary. ^^ 
 
 " Dear brother," commenced Miss Rachel again, 
 "what a serious business this inquest is to be 
 sure, bringing so many strangers over the farm, 
 that really one scarcely feels the place to be one^s 
 own ! How I long for peace ! — I do indeed, — 
 and hope I shall never witness another coroner^ s 
 inquest." 
 
 "I trust not, indeed, Rachel," replied her 
 brother. " AYhy here I have been at Old Farm 
 my whole life nearly, as I said before, yet never 
 had such an affair happen ; but what is to be will 
 be, and there^s no use talking about it, I guess; we 
 must make the best of a bad job, remembering 
 that nothing is so bad but might have been 
 worse ; it might have been Tom, as well as Sam. 
 Fifty ship might have been struck by the light- 
 ning the other day instead of one, only God says, 
 So far, but no farther. Tom is now getting
 
 190 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 better^ and we have cause to be tbankfal for 
 tbat." 
 
 '^ AYell, Molly /^ said tbe farmer^ as that domestic 
 entered again^ " have jou directed the gentlemen 
 to the granary ? " 
 
 " Yes^ master/' answered Molly ; " and they 
 are all sitting round the table, of all the world 
 as if they were going to have a good dinner/' 
 
 The coroner, an important, active, stout -looking 
 gentleman, from the county town, was soon en- 
 gaged assembHng his jury ; when, presently, the 
 foreman spoke — 
 
 " Please your honour, they ain't all come yet." 
 
 " ^\Tio's not come ? Who's absent ? Who is 
 the man that dares keep the coroner and jury 
 awaiting his behest ? Give me his name ; get 
 some one else," said the coroner, " get some else. 
 I will teach that man, that he shall not with im- 
 punity keep this august Court waiting. I will 
 commit him for contempt of the same. Does he 
 think, I wonder, that a coroner possesses a super- 
 fluity of time, that he must await the pleasure of 
 a juryman ? I will let him know that a coroner is 
 invested with supreme authority from the highest 
 court in this realm. Call Farmer Brunt, and let 
 him take his place." 
 
 " Please your honour, the man is come now," 
 said the foreman.
 
 OE, RUSTIC EEMINISCENCES. 191 
 
 "Oh, he is, is lie ? and pray Sir, state ttie reason 
 that lias dared you to keep tliis important Court 
 waiting your pleasure in this most thoughtless 
 and ignorant manner, — a court assembled for 
 the purpose of considering the accidents touch- 
 ing the death of one of her Majesty^s lieges. Don^t 
 you know, Sir, that I have power to commit you 
 for contempt of court V^ 
 
 " Yes, your honour,^^ replied the man ; ^' but I 
 hope you won't exercise it just now, and if so, 
 put me to a merciful punishment, for just as I was 
 on the point of leaving home, my wife was taken 
 all over bad like, and presently presented as fine 
 a boy to the parish as ever your honour clapped 
 eyes on. So you see, yer honour, I was obliged to 
 attend to the living a little, before the dead.''' 
 
 " Very well," said the official, '^ I suppose you 
 must be excused on such real grounds." 
 
 "Now gentlemen," commenced the coroner, 
 " yon are summoned and empanelled here in the 
 sight of God, and in the name of your most 
 Gracious Sovereign, to consider without anticipa- 
 tion, speculation, or partiality, the circumstances 
 touching the death of one of her Majesty's sub- 
 jects. You will think, consider, and act as be- 
 cometh twelve true men, remembering that you 
 are bound by oath to do so, so that, should de- 
 ceased have come unfairly or otherwise by his
 
 192 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 death_, the how or wherefore may be decided by 
 this impartial and just tribunal. Gentlemen^ you 
 will now retire and view the body. You observe, 
 gentlemen/^ continued the coroner, "that death 
 has not been accelerated by any external injury 
 or violence ; we infer, therefore, that it must have 
 occurred from some derangement of the internal 
 physiological structure, — how or by what, will be 
 more easily decided after examining a few wit- 
 nesses. Call the man who was with him in the 
 field.^^ 
 
 " I remember,^^ said Tom, '^ having been with 
 Sam reaping in the field, when the captain of the 
 ' Gipsy Queen ' came along and axed us to go we'n 
 and have a glass of grog ; we went, and had one 
 each, and having found it mighty good like, had 
 another, and then another, and so on, I reckoned 
 six when I began to feel all over queer like. I 
 might have had more but donH remember any- 
 thing after the sixth glass, I can^t call anything 
 to mind a^ter that.^^ 
 
 By the coroner, " Do you think your late com- 
 panion had more than you had ? '^ 
 
 " I can't say, your honour, the last I remem- 
 ber seeing of him was stretched along on the 
 deck.'' 
 
 " And what do you think the spirit was ? " 
 
 '' I can't say, your honour, quite certain, but 
 guess a little mixed, but can't say certain."
 
 OE, KUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 193 
 
 '^Tliat will do. Call Farmer Bruut. Well, 
 farmer, and wliat do you know of the case ? " 
 
 ^' I knows but little/^ replied the farmer ; " I 
 only knows that as I was sitting in my room, 
 Molly rushed in, saying that she thought they 
 were bringing the men home, either drunk or 
 sun-struck ; for a time too I really feared the sun 
 had been too much for them ; but after a little 
 consideration, discovered the men had been drink- 
 ing, and soon after the man Sam died, and that is 
 all I know respecting the case." 
 
 After the doctor and several other witnesses, 
 it came to Molly^s turn, who, when asked what 
 she considered deceased died from, answered, 
 " Drink, I ^spects, your honour." 
 
 " And what ground have you for thinking so?" 
 inquired the coroner. 
 
 " I think it was the Ten Acres they were reap - 
 ing in," replied Molly. 
 
 " Ay, ay, woman," said the coroner. " Woman, 
 you don^t understand me. What do you think 
 he had been drinking ? " 
 
 " Oh, spirits, your honour." 
 
 " But was it brandy, or gin, or rum, — the kind 
 I mean, the kind I mean." 
 
 " Well, I don^t exactly know the sort of 'scrip- 
 tion, but I rather ^spects it was brandy." 
 
 " Why, what proof have you for so thinking ?" 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 194 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 '^ Laws, Sir, I don^t know tlie proofs and tlie 
 like on't, only I heard Sam say he thouglit 'twas 
 brandy _, but laws now, I don't know, I 'spects/' 
 
 " Call Miss Racbel/' said tbe coroner. 
 
 ^^ Yes, I know tbe man/' commenced that lady ; 
 '' we called bim Sam, an' like all servants be was 
 a great plague, and mucb too fond of drink. I 
 remember on one occasion my brother sent bini 
 witb tbe borses to take a load of wbeat to tbe 
 mill, wben on returning bome, be became intoxi- 
 cated, threw tbe waggon ; and it was tbe greatest 
 mercy in tbe world tbe borses were not killed or 
 disabled for life. For this in some degree I blame 
 my brother, he is too easy, too indulgent witb 
 them." 
 
 ff My good lady," commenced tbe coroner, 
 " will you be so good as to confine yourself a little 
 more to the subject before us ? " 
 
 "Yes, I will ; this leads me to it. When I saw 
 tbem crossing the fields I knew there was some- 
 thing wrong with tbe servants; that they bad been 
 up to no good I felt sure." 
 
 "My good lady, do you think deceased died 
 from intoxicating drinks ? '^ inquired tbe patient 
 and polite coroner. 
 
 " Do I think so, indeed ? Why there is not tbe 
 shadow of doubt upon that point, and the only 
 wonder ia that many more of tbe class don't die
 
 195 
 
 from the same cause. Think^ indeed ! it is no use 
 thinking about it^ it does not require that foolish 
 waste of time/^ returned Miss Rachel. 
 
 '^That will do, my dear lady; thank you. Madam, 
 I will not detain you longer/^ said the polite 
 coroner again. " Call the captain of the ' Gipsy 
 Queen.^ '' 
 
 " Well, your honour,^' commenced the captain, 
 giving his trousers the characteristic twist, and 
 turning the quid in his mouth, " the young men 
 came aboard the ' Gipsy,^ and I gave them the 
 usual ^lowance of grog, not of course expecting 
 it would have the effect we have seen. Why, 
 your honour, we call it splicing the main brace, 
 but it seems to have onspliced him and sent 
 him to Old Davy. My wiggies can take the 
 quantity off without a flounder, and I must say 
 that I was confoundedly bothered to see the 
 landsman brought hull downwards, with reefed 
 topsail, and a stiff wind in the teeth, when my 
 fellows were two sheets in the wind. I can say 
 no more, your honour, it^s no use tacking about, 
 or maybe I shall get caught in a worse squall ; 
 therefore 1^11 just haul in now, and let it drive 
 before the wind.^^ 
 
 " Really, captain, you must excuse me,'^ said the 
 coroner, '' but unfortunately I can^t interpret 
 your nautical phraseology. But do you think the 
 
 o2
 
 196 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 deceased died from taking too mucli for him, 
 otherwise a wholesome beverage ? " 
 
 " Well, your honom-, I should think he shipped 
 too much for the strength of his timbers ; I should 
 think without dodging it was too much for the 
 young man/^ 
 
 " That will do, captain ; that will do, captain,^^ 
 said the coroner. 
 
 " Gentlemen," commenced the coroner again, 
 " you have now heard all the e^^idence likely to 
 be obtained ; will you be so good as to come to 
 some conclusion respecting the death of the 
 deceased?" After some time spent in disagreeing 
 on items of minor importance, as whether it was 
 gin, rum, or brandy that was the evil spiiit in 
 the case, 
 
 " Why don^t you agree t" inquired the fore- 
 man. " Don't you know you are keeping us all, 
 and the coroner too, who will be preciously put 
 out presently, I can tell ye ? Why it is as plain 
 as noonday that he died from the effects of too 
 much spirits, which drove him away ; there weren't 
 room for every kind." 
 
 " That will do very well, neighbom' ; but how 
 do you know there wasn't something of an in- 
 jurious nature mixed with it, such as pison for 
 instance?" 
 
 ^^How do I know, you goose ? Why, well enough
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 197 
 
 to be sure. Don^t ye see, if tliat had been the 
 case, the other would have died too, you stupid V 
 
 " I want to get home, to my shop,-*^ said 
 another. " It is horrid to be kept here like this ; 
 when, in my humble opinion, it is all as clear as 
 spring water that he was suffocated with spirits." 
 
 " Bother to the whole of you," said the father 
 of the increase. "Why don't you come to a con- 
 clusion ? Don't you know you are keeping his 
 honour ? and I can't stay here all the day think- 
 ing of the dead ; I have the living to feed. . 
 
 "Gentlemen," said the coroner, "do you 
 agree?'/ 
 
 "We do," answered the foreman. 
 
 "And what is your conclusion?" 
 
 " That the deceased died from too free use of 
 intoxicating fluids, administered to him by the 
 crew of the ^ Gipsy Queen,' but whom we ex- 
 onerate from all blame in the matter, but recom- 
 mend the same not to be so liberal in future, 
 and during the hot weather, in their spiritual 
 gifts." 
 
 "Gentlemen," retmmed the coroner, "I have 
 the honour to close this inquiry, and express to 
 you the satisfaction I feel at the patience you 
 have exhibited during the discharge of this your 
 public duty." 
 
 "Now," said Miss Rachel to her brother, "I
 
 198 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 see there is no end of trouble^ till we get rid of 
 servants. Here we have hadtlie inquest, and now 
 we must liave tlie funeral ; upon my word it is too 
 bad, it really is. Do, brother, look out for a cheap 
 undertaker to bury the poor chap ; I saw an 
 advertisement the other day, where the whole is 
 accomplished in a most quiet and decent man- 
 ner for about five pounds ; now I think that is 
 pretty moderate. You know, brother, it is no use 
 spending more than is necessary upon the dead ; 
 they want it not, it does them no good, and 
 there are so many living to whom such money 
 would be of the greatest service." 
 
 " You are right, Eachie, so far ; we know it does 
 the dead no good, but still there are the living to 
 please, even in this respect, a little. For my own 
 part, I don^t care what- they do with me when 
 I am no more ; but Sam has relations, whom it 
 would please to see him put under the ground 
 in a decent manner. Mythinks, 1^11 have old Jet 
 out and ride over to carpenter Sawyer ; he^U do 
 it as moderate and well as any of your pro- 
 fessionals, and without half the bother, 1^11 be 
 bound for'n." 
 
 So, on the following day the carpenter ap- 
 peared, and took the necessary orders for the 
 funeral, \\z. a few pairs of black gloves, full size, 
 some half-dozen crape hat-bands, hired for the
 
 < 
 
 OE, EUSTTC REMINISCENCES. 
 
 occasion^ witli a little ribbon for Molly ^s Qap aii(i\^ 
 bonnet, as she liad declared, '' cost what it might, 
 she would go in mourning for the poor fellow^ as 
 he was the very best chap her master had ever 
 had, — allis good tempered and natured, would 
 bring her anything from the shop, and didn^t 
 mind going over to the poorhouse, occasionally, 
 and take her poorer sister a few apples, a little 
 snuff, or an ounce or two of tea." 
 
 "I'll go in mourning for you, poor soul,'' she 
 repeated. " It isn't many friends poor folks got 
 to do anything for um, in this blessed world. No, 
 poor folks got no friends to lose ; and if it's my 
 very last shilling, the very last bit of siller, it 
 shall go to buy a yard or two of black ribbon for 
 him, poor soul ! Maybe he'll see me we't on, and" 
 will take it out a kind of 'spect for'n, who knows ? 
 Yes, he's in another world, that's true, the pa'son 
 said so last Sunda' ; yes, he's alive enough, I 
 reckon, somewhere up yonder in the skies. Laws 
 like, I should like to see how poor folks gets on 
 up there. Laws a mercy, what a queer talk I am 
 having to be sure ! A\Tiy, it's not his body that's 
 up there ; Mr. Sawyer's going to put that up in the 
 graveyard, but it is his think, I reckon that's up 
 in the sky." 
 
 '^ Molly, see who is at the door," called out the 
 farmer.
 
 200 THE MODEKN PEDAGOaUE. 
 
 " Yes, master, His Mr. Sawyer ; and lie says lie 
 has one of tlie most snug and comfortablest graves 
 in tlie whole churcliyard for poor Sam. I am glad 
 onH, master, as if it were for myself; Sam deserves 
 it, he does, a grave as good as any prince. I likes 
 comfortable graves for poor souls when they canH 
 stop on the surface any longer. Never mind, 
 Sam, we shall be a^er you soon, poor chap.^^ 
 
 '^ Yes, Molly, you are right there ; you know 
 our souls never die,^' said the farmer ; " and of 
 course we shall be united again." 
 
 '^ I hope so, master,^^ said Molly. 
 
 " There is no doubt of it," returned the farmer. 
 '^ You heard the parson speaking on't on Sunda', 
 didnH you ?" 
 
 " Yes, master, and he is very learned ; gets it 
 out of them big books, I reckon. But yet, master, 
 mythinks I canH make it out how, after we are 
 dead, we shall go on living, a thousand and a mil- 
 lion of years, ever and ever. Mythinks sometimes 
 I should like there to be an end onH. Oh, it's a 
 power too much learning for poor Molly ; canH 
 make it out no ways. To my mind it's much like 
 the sun, moon, and stars ; they's been always 
 shining, my old granny told me that, and so 
 they'll go on, long after poor old Molly's up in 
 the churchyard. God made it, and works it all, 
 and yet he sees poor Sam now, and is kind to'n, 
 I 'spects."
 
 201 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 " Hounds are in their couples yelling, 
 Hawks are whistling, hounds are knelling. 
 Merrily mingle they, 
 Waken lords and ladies gay." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 The funeral party, when completed, presented 
 rather a whimsical and grotesque appearance. 
 Grouped together were long white gabardines, 
 with blue coats and brass buttons, and hats which, 
 having stood the battle and the breeze for many 
 years, had now settled down to a durable, never 
 ending brown, the first two or three of which 
 gloried in second-hand hatbands, provided by 
 Mr. Sawyer. 
 
 Molly and Betty likewise followed, dressed in 
 white straw bonnets, trimmed with black ribbon, 
 and gloves to match. Slowly and silently the 
 procession advanced ; here was in fact mourning 
 in all its rural simplicity ; there was little exterior
 
 202 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 pomp^ but in one of tlie followers at least, it was 
 Heartfelt. Molly sobbed, as she held the white 
 pockethandkerchief to her eyes, lent her for the 
 occasion by the ever active, thoughtful Miss 
 Eachel. 
 
 " Yes/^ Molly sobbed, as she repeated, '^ Poor 
 folks have no friends to lose/^ 
 
 Farmer Brunt likewise followed, in order to 
 superintend the proceedings, and well it was he 
 did so, as the sequel will unfold. At length, and 
 after many times changing the bearers, the funeral 
 arrived at the churchyard and grave, where, after 
 some time awaiting the advent of the clergy- 
 man, to the no small annoyance and astonishment 
 of the farmer, who had for some time exhibited 
 signs of impatience, but which patience had to be 
 more and more exercised, as the clergyman did 
 not arrive for^n hour or more after the appointed 
 time for the funeral, — 
 
 Presently Snipp, who filled the joint offices of 
 sexton aud clerk, came up, and whispered in the 
 farmer^s ear that Mr. Allaway had gone hunting 
 that morning with his lordship^s hounds, and, he 
 was very sorry to say, had not yet returned, but 
 he expected him that minute and every other 
 minute, and hoped the farmer would exercise a 
 little more patience, as he could not at all account 
 for the long delay of the clergyman, he having
 
 OK, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 203 
 
 given him tlie proper and due notice the evening 
 before. But it appeared that Eeynard sly had 
 led the excited and too willing hunters much 
 beyond the mark at first anticipated, and to this 
 circumstance was owing the unfortunate delay in 
 the appearance of the clergyman, whom, after 
 again awaiting a considerable time, the farmer 
 saw pass the churchyard gate, whip and spur, on 
 his way to the vicarage, in order to change his gay 
 hunting attire for the more priestly habiliments. 
 
 The farmer, seeing the clergyman pass on his 
 jaded hunter, broke forth, '^ No, I won^t stand it 
 any longer, dang'd if I do ; I gave the proper 
 notice, I won^t keep the people waiting this cold 
 day, just after a shower of rain too, to please even 
 the Queen herself. Here, Sawyer, help me down 
 with the coffin, you and I will bury the poor chap.'' 
 
 Snipp stood aghast, and resisted, as well as he 
 could, this piece of profanity and sacrilege. 
 
 "Stand away, stand away, Snipp," said the 
 farmer; to which demand, having been over- 
 powered, Snipp consented, and gave up the con- 
 test in despair, and commenced wending his steps 
 across the churchyard, in order to meet the 
 clergyman ; but quickly recollecting himself, 
 hurried back again, saying, — 
 
 " What ! will you bury the body without the 
 proper funeral service ?''
 
 204 THE MODERN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 " Yes, I reckon we shall, Snipp ; unless you'll 
 read it/' replied the farmer, " no one else will, I 
 fancy.'' 
 
 Snipp looked more astonished than ever, and 
 his eyes and mouth opened more than they were 
 wont to do ; the shovel dropped from his hand, 
 and his whole body threatened a state of instant 
 petrifaction, and to be left, perhaps for an inde- 
 finite period, standing on the side of the grave ; 
 for never had he been so astonished and alarmed 
 before. Snipp stood silent indeed as Lot's wife, 
 as the carpenter and farmer lowered the remains 
 of the poor servant to mingle with their mother 
 earth ; after which the farmer took off his hat and 
 holding it in his hand (the red pockethandker- 
 chief fell out), commenced, as he looked round on 
 the followers, " Friends, may we hope his soul is 
 enjoying the like repose the body appears now to 
 be possessing ; friends, may we all remember we 
 too are mortal, and that one day not long hence 
 our bodies ^vill be like his, low in the grave, min- 
 gling with the clods of the valley ; friends, this 
 silent open grave is kindly preaching to us, ^ Be 
 ye also ready.' (Snipp took ofi" his hat.) " His 
 was sudden death ; ours may be as sudden," con- 
 tinued the farmer. (Snipp scratched his head.) 
 " Friends, believe savingly in Christ, and he will 
 enable you to triumph over the grave ; he will
 
 OK, EUSTIC REMmiSCENCES. 205 
 
 help you over tlie gloomy flood to the bright and 
 happy Canaan/^ (Amen, loudly responded Snipp.) 
 As the farmer was thus speaking, the Rev. Mr. 
 Allaway appeared in view, looking very anxious, 
 and nearly out of breath from the speed at which 
 he had been travelling, and as he approached the 
 grave, appeared thunderstruck at the proceed- 
 ings, and his voice trembled with indignation, as 
 he commenced, " My good people, why did you 
 allow that old and stupid maniac to commit this 
 serious indiscretion, this sacrilegious deed ? Why 
 did you not, you sensible people, prevent such a 
 poor, lost, undone lunatic committing such a 
 wicked and wilful proceeding ? " 
 
 '^ I am not a poor, lost, undone maniac,^^ re- 
 turned the farmer; ^'^you know that too well. 
 Had I been that poor afflicted person, you might 
 have kept this funeral with impunit}'. No, here^s 
 no poor dependant, but a determined, sane, too 
 sane a man. You thought perhaps this was a poor 
 meniaPs funeral, consequently of little notice, and 
 friends too poor or few to speak ; but here I am, 
 and speak I will." 
 
 '^ Man,^^ replied Mr. Allaway, " say no more, 
 or I shall be tempted to forget myself." 
 
 " Yes, that you have done, too much already," 
 replied the farmer ; " you know that. Remember 
 you that day, not long ago ? mind I don^t pull the
 
 206 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 gown over your yead. Enougli, I see you do ; you 
 remember^ I remember ; that will do ; 1^11 say no 
 more/' 
 
 " ni read the burial service/' said tbe clergy- 
 man/' 
 
 " Not one word/' replied tbe farmer ; '^ the 
 dead require it not, the living would be disgusted 
 by such a proceeding. No, that exercise must 
 flow from other lips to take eff'ect." 
 
 '^ But I can excuse myself for this delay/' ob- 
 served the clergyman. 
 
 " I am glad you can/' replied the farmer, and 
 looking round invited his friends at once to 
 retire. 
 
 Snipp, by this time, had completed the work of 
 filling in the grave. The farmer stepped up to 
 him, and placed five shillings into his hand, which 
 Snipp spat upon, and placed in his breeches 
 pocket. The people proceeded towards their 
 homes ; the Eev. Mr. AUaway made his way into 
 the vestry ; and Snipp recommenced digging the 
 grave he had been working at in the morning. 
 
 " Well, well," said he, as he rested halting upon 
 his spade, " wonders will never cease, that's 
 certain. Why, I have been clerk, sexton, and all 
 for thirty years, and my old dad before me, yet 
 did I never hear or see such a thing as for the 
 mourners to bury the corpse; no, never in all
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 207 
 
 my blessed days ; wtiy how queer it sounds ! no 
 one would believe it_, — if I told tlieni. Well, tliey 
 say, you must not be astonished at anything until 
 the workVs upside down and the people standing 
 on their heads, and I believe it now. I made 
 sure I should lose the fee anyhow, in this earth- 
 quake, but ^pon my life now, if that old Farmer 
 Brunt ain^t a very good old fellow, but a very 
 queer dog, — there^s a mighty lot more in his head 
 than folks generally find in children's. Well, I 
 am a lucky mole too ; here's five shillings in a few 
 hours, — good pay, good pay, — and this has been 
 really a slap-up week altogether — five funerals, eh? 
 what do think of that, Snipp ? Why you will ride 
 in a coach if it goes on like this (not a mourning 
 one I hope). A month ago I was beginning to 
 despair a bit ; it never rains but it powers ; here 
 was a whole month barely breaking earth, but 
 now in the space of one little week, two real 
 pounds of yeller gould. Ay, they come in scuds, 
 and so they will, most likely, now they have begun; 
 but if this young spark goes on in this way 
 hunting with me lord's hounds, and other little 
 games they say he's up to, well then, good bye 
 to our buryings and weddings. It vexes me, now 
 that it does, body and soul, his going on so ; but 
 what can I do, a poor underground toad like me? 
 I was sorry for Farmer Brunt, yet what could I
 
 208 THE MODERN PEDAaOGUE ; 
 
 say ? I expected every moment to be swept off 
 the face of the earth_, — that is, off" this churchyard 
 earth; it vexes me, I say it does. I hke to see 
 things in grave^^ards carried out neatly and gen- 
 teel like ; but there^s something atween our 
 spark and Farmer Brunt more than a gTave ; 
 they say he has — ah, well, let others say, 1^11 only 
 hear ; hold your tongue, Snipp, — a slow tongue 
 makes a wise head ; but there^s something Brunt 
 knows more than I know, or what did he mean 
 by saying he would pull the ^ gown over his yead,^ 
 and, ' forget you that day V and the rest on^t ; no, 
 mark me, Snipp, he^ll never say anything to 
 Brunt again on that subject, and all will go off" 
 now right enough, dig, dig, dig; but, my eye, 
 here comes the gentleman ; talk of the devil, and 
 his imps appear, eh ?^^ 
 
 "Hollo, Snipp ! Hoilo, Snipp V commenced Mr. 
 Allaway ; " how came you to allow Farmer Brunt 
 to perform the funeral obsequies over the corpse 
 to-day V 
 
 " Yes, Sir ; yes. Sir, I told him of it, I told him 
 of it, Sir, but I tell you how it is. Sir. Farmer 
 Brunt is an awkward, headstrong sort of man, 
 very stubborn to deal with. I told him of it. Sir ; 
 I say I told him of it ; and I was very sorry to 
 hear him speak to you. Sir, in that foolish and 
 unbecoming manner, — to speak to you, a gentle-
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMIXISCEXCES. 209 
 
 man of ^birtli/ edication, and all (tlie minister 
 winced), and lie only a plain, ignorant farmer. I 
 felt angry witli Mm, I did/^ 
 
 " Yes, yes; well, well," said tlie clergyman. '' I 
 tliink I must give up the hounds, perhaps it is 
 not quite the amusement for a clergyman ; at any 
 rate it places me in the awkward position of 
 being censured by this rui-al herd." 
 
 " I think I would, Sir ; I think I would," an- 
 wered Snipp; "for you know. Sir, country people 
 say anything but their prayers, and them they 
 whistle." 
 
 The clergyman laughed. " Right, quite right, 
 you're right, Snipp," he replied; " and here's half- 
 a-crown for your wit. Mind and get the church 
 well aired by the morning-service." And away 
 went the minister, stepping over the graves to- 
 wards the parsonage, whistling and tuning, as he 
 did so, some light-hearted ditties which occurred 
 to him at the moment. 
 
 "Bless me," commenced Snipp, again view- 
 ing the half-crown, jerking his trousers, and giv- 
 ing a knowing wink, "'pon my word, 'pon my 
 word now, these are glorious times. No, he's not 
 quite easy like ; he won't say anything to Farmer 
 Brunt, I know. Not he, indeed ! I thought I should 
 have heard more, but he has followed the little 
 cunning foxes too much for that, my thinks. 
 
 VOL. I. p .
 
 210 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 Yes, he knows I heard a thing or two ; he'll give 
 up hunting, eh ? I hope he may ; or I shall soon 
 have to give up digging, I guess. Be quiet, 
 Snipp, be quiet, Snipp, you'll take in more an- 
 other time ; the quiet sow eats the most wash. 
 Dig, dig, dig; how precious hard this ground 
 is to be sure ! want some rain on't, the shower 
 to-day hasn't mellowed it a bit. Oh, I see what 
 'tis ; 'tis a bone that is so deuced hard. Yes," 
 (taking it in his hand,) " 'tis a leg-bone too ; and 
 as sure as I am here and he's there, it was the leg- 
 bone of old John Stubbs ; it was close here my 
 old dad said he was buried ; now I'll just rest a 
 moment, and call him to mind a bit. Yes, he was 
 a shoemaker in the village some fifty years ago 
 or thereabouts, a clever sort of chap too, I fancy, — 
 so I have heard the old man say ; he was a bit of 
 a lawyer, and could physic too a little. Yes, this 
 bone just corresponded with his height, he was 
 an extraordinary tall man, and this leg-bone I am 
 sure just fitted such a fellow ; a mighty customer 
 for running races too, I have heard tell ; many's 
 the race this bone has carried his owner to win 
 in, I'll lay ; and they say he could sing a song as 
 well as here and there one; and such ghost 
 stories he would tell the boys, when mending 
 their shoes, till their hair stuck up like pigs' 
 bristleSj and they were afered to go in the dark
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 211 
 
 for a fortnight a^ter. Poor old John, maybe now 
 he has seen all these ghosts he used to tell them 
 about ; but here's pretty well the last of poor old 
 Stubbs, — earth we are, and earth we come to, true 
 enough ; but I'll bury that bone again presently 
 out of respect to'n, and so we go on. Hark ! 
 there's the old clock, I'll just have my bread and 
 cheese ; it won't do to fast too long, or instead of 
 digging for others, shall want some one to dig 
 for me," and away stalked the gravedigger, in 
 order to find the same hidden under the tomb- 
 stone where he had left it in the morning, hum- 
 ming, as he proceeded, 
 
 " The gravedigger' s task is to dig, dig, dig, 
 For many who would rather live, live, live ; 
 The old and the young, the rich and the fair, 
 The gravedigger alike takes under his care." 
 
 " That's true enough," said Snipp ; " all sorts are 
 here, and many have their characters with them 
 but we must be careful in believing the whole 
 on't j as we know what is said about epitaphs. I 
 am precious glad I learnt to read when I was a 
 boy ; I can't come it perhaps quite so well as our 
 pa' son, but I can spell out a great deal. Poor old 
 Burch, the schoolmaster, said I took my letters in 
 sooner than any boy he had ever known. Let me 
 see, I knew the whole twenty-six gentlemen 
 backwards and forwards before I had the honour 
 
 p 2
 
 212 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 of attending his academy six montlis ; but poor 
 old Pedals under my care now^ and while I think 
 on't, ni go and see what they say about him. 
 Yes, here he is/' Heads,, 
 
 " Here lies John Burch, we knew him well, 
 He taught us how to read and spell ; 
 He taught us how to sum and write, 
 He taught us likewise how to fight ! 
 But here he lies, the good old man, 
 Dispute it now if any can ; 
 A better never drove a pen ; 
 He wrote the wills of many men." 
 
 " Hum ! some on't's true and some isn't/' said the 
 sexton ; " he could write copper-plate I know, and 
 the fighting part he understood I can swear, for 
 I shaU never forget the ossing he gi'd me when 
 I hid his cane ; but I liked him, poor old fellow, 
 and there were many worse than he, if you only 
 knew where to find them. Here's another along- 
 side ; what does this say, I wonder ?" Reads, 
 
 " All you that read and pass me by, 
 As you are now, so once was I ; 
 As I am now, so you must be, 
 Therefore prepare to follow me." 
 
 " And underneath some one has writ an answer 
 
 to it, in pencil." Reads, 
 
 " To follow you I'm not content, 
 Unless I know which way you went." 
 
 " That's a good un," said the gravedigger ; 
 '' that sarves him just right — too conceited a deal
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 213 
 
 for mortal man. I am glad I can read, I say; for 
 some of these rhymes are mighty funny, and pass 
 away the dinner-hour amazingly. Here^s a pre- 
 cious old one here, grown over with moss; my 
 eye ! he has been here nearly a hundred winters. 
 Eh ? now what does that say, I wonder? I should 
 like to know what sort of people lived all them 
 years back.^^ Reads, 
 
 " Here lies John Stokes, who clocks and watches made, 
 Though never taught this, that, or any trade ; 
 His watch, wound up, went on for many a day ; 
 But now is down and mouldering to decay." 
 
 " Well, he was a clever fellow, and no mistake ; 
 it was a pity he ever died; we want clever 
 watchmakers and menders like him. Now, why, 
 here^s my ticker goes so badly, that it very nigh 
 thi-ew me out with two funerals last week. 
 Watchmakers, mythinks, are much on a par with 
 doctors, — one touch forwards and two back, and 
 all to the tune of two-and-sixpence ; but if old 
 Stokes was on the surface, he would find some of 
 them out, I reckon, 
 
 "And who is this ? — short and sweet, anyhow.^' 
 Reads, 
 
 " Here lies Tim Small, we ne'er shall see him more ; 
 He used to wear an old drab coat, aU buttoned down before." 
 
 " Small enough !" said Snipp ; " seems like he 
 knew how to take care of himself, anyhow;
 
 214 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 didnH do mucli good in the world, I fancy, if he 
 closed his mind and soul as lie did his body ; 
 seems to me if that is all you can say about him, 
 his comer didn't miss him much when he left it. 
 And here's another precious old stone, grown 
 over with moss and ivy." Beads again, 
 
 " Here lies the Earl of Hunting's fool, 
 
 Folks called liitn Dickey Pearce ; 
 His folly served to make folks laugh 
 
 When wit and mirth were scarce. 
 Dickey, alas ! is dead and gone, 
 
 What matters me to cry ! 
 Dickeys enough are left behind 
 
 To laugh at by-and-by." 
 
 " No, I sha'n't play the woman on his account, 
 never fear, Mr. Stone ! A funny sort of chap ; 
 no doubt a fool too, eh ? They say it takes a 
 wise man to make one of that sort, no doubt 
 he fooled the money out of the pockets of some 
 of the rich uns ; a fancy sort of chap, I reckon ; 
 played his game well, I'll be bound, now ; didn't 
 play the fool for nothing. No, I won't cry; I 
 can't cry ! 
 
 ''And bless my body, here's a stone standing 
 over the dust of one of my profession — an old 
 gravedigger, I'll read that, anyhow, and that 
 will be enough for to-day; some day I'U write 
 them down on a piece of paper, they are so 
 mighty comic." Eeads,
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 215 
 
 "Here lies John Mole, sexton; he died seventeen hundred and — " 
 
 '' Nothing ; gone out tlie rest ; old Time, I 
 s'pose, put his rusty finger on^t. But here fol- 
 lows the poetry; what a precious lot of poets 
 there must have been in those days ! I won- 
 der if theVll poetise me a little when I am in this 
 situation." Eeads, 
 
 ** Here lies the body of old John Mole ; 
 His body, mark, not his soul ; 
 His soul, too big for any grave, 
 Is gone to bliss, and therefore saved. 
 He was a sexton, brave and strong, 
 And buried all wlio came along ; 
 He buried corpses by the dozen, 
 And this was put up by his cousin." 
 
 "Queer fish, ^Mr. Mole, I lay," commenced 
 Snipp ; " plenty of trade, too, in his day ; buried 
 them by the dozen ! That must have been excel- 
 lent times for the sexton, at any rate ; should think 
 there must have been an epidemic cholera, per- 
 haps, or something of that sort. "Well, Snipp, 
 your turn will come, one day or other, never fear. 
 Bother me," said the sexton, looking across the 
 graveyard, '^'if there ain^t them three fellows 
 again. Holla there ! you fellows, you be oflF 
 there ; let me have no more of your tomfoolery 
 again. Be off, I say ; be off there." 
 
 This address was delivered by the sexton to 
 three tall, burly-looking fellows, who, through the
 
 216 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE 
 
 day, had been giving him considerable trouble, 
 by their sudden and repeated attempts to have 
 some employment in the Sexton^s Acre, which 
 could be easily determined by observing the im- 
 plements they carried on their shoulders. The 
 three men, brothers and idiots, were the sons of 
 a deceased shoemaker. During the life of the fa- 
 ther, the men got on tolerably well, seldom ever 
 having made acquaintance with the gnawings of 
 hunger ; but now the grand provider was gone, 
 the parish allowance, considered by the managers 
 of such bounties enough for three usual appetites, 
 proved little enough for the unnatural appetites 
 of the brothers ; who, after eating their own 
 allowance, were in the habit of perambulating 
 the streets, looking through the windows of their 
 neighbours engaged in the midday meal, call- 
 ing them greedy dogs, daring them to eat all 
 themselves, etc., mthout remembering Tom or 
 Jack, as the case might be. This, of course, 
 became an intolerable nuisance, and the parish 
 at last had them duly cared for. However, on 
 this occasion, they had been feeling unusually 
 hungry, and beheving, with good proof, that the 
 old father^s absence was the reason of the sad 
 calamity, had placed their heads together — the 
 heads of idiots, it is true, — and so determined 
 on exhuming the old man. So these, men in
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 217 
 
 strength, and stature, but less than infants in 
 mind, came with pickaxe and shovel, and were in 
 the act of commencing the work, when Snipp 
 inquired what they were doing there. 
 
 To which they replied, " Getting the old man 
 up again, to be sure ; he has been long enough 
 down here in the cold, ainH he V 
 
 In these men we see an awful visitation. Wh.o 
 is there that complains they have nothing in this 
 world ? Eeader, let me ask you, have you your 
 intellect, eyesight, speech, hearing ? Thousands 
 have not ! If you enjoy them, repine not ; be 
 careful of them, and thank God. 
 
 The sexton, having settled the affair with the 
 idiots, resumed his occupation, digging the before- 
 mentioned grave ; and having sunk himself a foot 
 or so deeper underground, lets out a little of his 
 mind, not only upon his old squaw ; but likewise 
 found vent a little moment for the pressure bear- 
 ing on his thoughts, on the subject of orthodox 
 versus heterodox as practised in his church. 
 
 '^Won^t Peggy be pleased," he commenced, 
 '' with this lucky day ! She shall have some real 
 Scotch to-night, on the strength on't. Strange 
 crettures women- folk, they put their bacce up 
 their noses to take it, I puts mine in my mouth 
 for the purpose ;" at the same time taking out a 
 steel tobacco-box, introduced an old quid of the
 
 218 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 frugal weed into his mouth. '^ Dig, dig, dig, — here 
 we go again ; but this has been an extraordinary 
 day. Won^t Peggy be astonished, that's all ! And 
 now I think on't, I wonder if that poor chap was 
 sprinkled when he was a young 'un. Mr. Alla- 
 way didn^t ask that on this occasion ; yet he is 
 amazingly particular with some on um; now if 
 he ain't been sprinkled, I wonder how he will get 
 over that neglect in the other country. It's not at 
 all a perfect system in my eye,because a poor fellow 
 might be drowned, killed by a lion, or the likes, 
 then I suppose every blessed one of them goes 
 to the bad, if such as Mr. Allaway has omitted 
 to drop some water upon their precious faces. Oh 
 dear me, my thinks we are left in poor hands in 
 this lower world sometimes ! I can't make it out 
 nohow ; odd times we live in, true enough. The 
 blind leading the blind ; and so they'll go on, I 
 reckon, till they fall in here, the leader and the 
 led ;" and Snipp stamped his foot on the ground. 
 " Now I'll go home," said he, " and see if Peggy 
 has the stew ready." And the gravedigger, with 
 spade on shoulder, stalked home to his cottage, 
 close by the copse. 
 
 "Eachel," commenced Farmer Brunt, '"'^ folks 
 tell me that our feast commences in a day or two ; 
 how are the puddings and pies getting on, eh, 
 Kachie ? I should like to see all the pantry shelves
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMIXISCENCES. 219 
 
 covered witli dishes to-year, for I don't intend 
 being behind on tbis occasion ; tbere sball be no 
 mistake in that. Til keep open house to all my 
 neighbours and friends. I like hospitality at these 
 times, — downright open-handed and hearted 
 hospitality ; not any of your make-believes, make- 
 pretences, — that's what I call a fast, not a feast ; 
 puts one in mind of Mr. Warton's story of the lady 
 who prided herself that she had provided just 
 enough and none to spare ; no, there was none to 
 spare ; whether there was enough is another mat- 
 ter. This year I want a good feast ; I know the 
 thing is going a little out of fashion ; times are 
 fast altering in farmhouse life; get rid of all trouble 
 is the system, struggling for existence, and do no- 
 thing that costs a little work. Everything, I re- 
 peat, is changing; the good old friendty hos- 
 pitable ways are going out, and selfish, suspicious, 
 cold, mean, miserable ones coming in. Why, 
 soon there won't be any old-fashioned farm- 
 houses, with their wide chimneys for drying bacon 
 in, and all that sort of thing. No, now it is 
 boarding-school instead of dairy; carpets in the 
 place of oak plank ; the brewer instead of brew- 
 ing ; the baker instead of baking ; and very soon, 
 if it goes on so, the servants will all be on board 
 wages, and the milk sent away to be made into 
 butter, for I am sure it will be considered ungen-
 
 220 THE MODERN PEDAaOGTJE ; 
 
 teel to toucli sucli a dirty animal as a cow. What 
 poor mimics we are in this day, — plenty of gen- 
 tility without the ability ! It^s wrong, I say it is ; 
 it is all wrong. Farmers used to be plain, honest 
 folks, with their pockets well lined ; but all is 
 swallowed up now, I fancy, — fast times, these rail- 
 way times running away from the money times, 
 going to town and bringing it into the country, — 
 that is, the expenses and fashion on^t, without the 
 means. I say, give me the old farmhouse, with 
 thatched roof, that keeps out the heat in summer, 
 and cold in winter; the hearth with faggots 
 blazing away (that cost nothing), with comfortable 
 corners on each side, and flitches over head; these 
 are pictures I like to see in farmhouses ; bother 
 to their new-fangled notions ! Why, they are posi- 
 tively afraid now of a good feast for fear of spoil- 
 ing their Turkey rugs ! I will bring turkeys on 
 my table that it will please me amazingly to see 
 them spoil. Here's the great difference between 
 us, — I put my turkeys on the table to be spoiled, 
 they put theirs under their feet for the same pur- 
 pose, and to be considered genteel. I say, I feel 
 delighted to see my friends at this season, and 
 I'll make them all as happy as princes if I can, 
 once in their lives anyhow. I am not afraid of 
 their spoiling my carpets ; I should think, not in- 
 deed ! This comes of the farmers catching that 
 cursed complaint called gentility.''
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMIXISCENCES. 221 
 
 " Yes, brother," returned Miss Rachel, '' all 
 you say is very true. I am sorry myself to see the 
 old-fashioned, substantial ways going out, and the 
 miserable, thin, genteel ones coming in ; I like to 
 keep feast in a proper manner, if possible. But 
 oh ! the servants, the servants — that is the maid- 
 servants ! I am afraid that Molly and Betty will 
 be very poor assistance, for the servants are not 
 what they were, brother ; they are getting into 
 the highly genteel too, and if we change, why 
 then worse will follow. I teU you, brother, they 
 don't know one-half what their grandmothers 
 did, in these enlightened times ; ask them if they 
 can wash; law bless me, they stare as if they 
 never heard of such a cleansing process, and if 
 they do know anything respecting it, they will 
 inform you that at the last place the missus put all 
 the washing out. Ask them if they can bake, and 
 they appear still more ignorant; and as to brewing, 
 milking, and feeding pigs, — I should never think 
 of putting such questions. So, brother, with the 
 kind of help we get now, I think it is no wonder 
 that feast can't be kept in the old style, but I 
 think the great evil is that there are too many mis- 
 tresses ; for now, no sooner does a young woman 
 get married, than she taxes herself and husband 
 with two or three of them at least, although she 
 does not know how to manaore one of the class.
 
 222 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 You are no doubt getting tired of what I am 
 saying, brother/^ continued Miss Eacliel, observ- 
 ing lier brother getting restless ; " but I know 
 there is truth in it ; and as to dress, laws to be 
 sure, it^s nothing but dress, there is no end to 
 the waste and extravagance ; the mistresses com- 
 mence it, and the servants like it, nothing goes 
 down now but hoops, heels, and hats ; it is down- 
 right wickedness. Why, do you know, brother, 
 that the other day I was so taken in, I thought I 
 was walking behind a beautiful, elegant, young 
 lady, her dress and mincing walk led me into the 
 error ; but oh, dear me ! when I saw her face 
 she was quite a wrinkled old woman. Oh, dear ! 
 it does vex me so to see those who ought to 
 be the leaders being led by the follies and vani- 
 ties the young ones are up to. Talk about the 
 taxes, the expenses of the poor, of religion ; why 
 what are they, compared with the taxes pride and 
 conceit bring upon folks ? Who is found giving 
 a tenth of all he possesses to the good and chari- 
 table causes? No, this can't be done, for the 
 other has become too imposing.^' 
 
 ^^ Well, well, Rachel,' ' commenced the farmer, 
 '^ they must do as they be a-minded, I suppose ; 
 but to my mind, we are going on much like the 
 Jews in the time of the prophet, and for like sins 
 I fear sometimes we shall have like punishment, 
 a mighty deal of humbling.''
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 223 
 
 It was in autumn the usual village feast was 
 kept, and deliglitful as that season of the year 
 generally is, it was more than usually so at this 
 time ; a bountiful and rich harvest had been ga- 
 thered in, the crops were large and full, gladness 
 pervaded all classes of the rural population, many 
 were truly grateful to the great universal Father 
 for these his benefits, and felt constrained to say 
 with David of old, "Oh that men would praise the 
 Lord for his goodness, and for his wonderful works 
 to the children of men." Now, all are alike re- 
 cipients of these natural bounties : the rain rains, 
 and the sun shines on the evil as well as the 
 good, the just as well as the unjust ; here is no 
 apparent distinction, the thoughtless and un- 
 thankful frequently flourish like the green bay- 
 tree, but still it must be remembered, were all 
 alike indifferent, this constitution of things could 
 not exist. This was proved in the days of Noah 
 and Lot; there was not sufficient salt to preserve 
 the world and its inhabitants. Remember, ye 
 gay and thoughtless, skipping butterfly-like over 
 this terrestrial sphere, that ye have to thank the 
 humble thankful few, that ye have terra firmci at 
 this moment to stand upon. 
 
 But it was autumn when the villao-e festival 
 
 o 
 
 took place. The sun had been daily lessening 
 his altitude, the rays, as they pierced downwards
 
 224 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 became still more and more slanting in direction, 
 
 and after setting in tlie western horizon, cool and 
 
 refreshing breezes swept over the landscape, when 
 
 suddenly the harvest moon took up the night 
 
 watch in all her autumnal refulgence, inspiring 
 
 the traveller with feelings similar to the young 
 
 poet^s when he breaks forth — 
 
 " Moon of harvest, I do love 
 O'er the upland hills to rove." 
 
 The peasantry — men, women, and children — 
 were busily engaged in getting up that principal 
 root for winter's sustenance, the potato; the 
 turnips and mangolds had rapidly increased in 
 rotundity, and threatened by their bulk to render 
 it anything but agreeable for their next neigh- 
 bour, but at the same time promising a good 
 supply of nourishment for the sheep and cattle 
 during the winter months ; the rooks too, ever 
 active, were majestically following the plough, 
 and minutely scrutinizing every parallel, ever 
 and anon bringing forth from its hiding-place 
 the reluctant caterpillar or chrysalis, deposited 
 there in order to hybernate, and come forth 
 again in the spring in multiple ratio ; and on the 
 thatch of the newly-formed wheat-stack and 
 roof of the adjacent barn, making their accus- 
 tomed parades preparatory to their departure for 
 other lands, the swallows could be seen. No
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 225 
 
 doubt they understand each other, dumb though 
 we call them, and they are so indeed to us, yet 
 doubtless they possess a language known to 
 themselves, and perfectly comprehensible one to 
 another ; there they were, about to obey one uni- 
 versal law of nature. Their insect food diminish- 
 ing as the cold advances, they seek the same 
 under softer skies and in fairer climes, and by so 
 doing, keep down the mighty army of insects, 
 which in time would become obnoxious and de- 
 structive. We thank you, pretty emigrants, for 
 these your annual visits ; we owe you much ; you 
 take nothing. 
 
 All nature, indeed, proclaimed in loud accents 
 the autumn of our year. One little prominent 
 characteristic of the season must not be forgot- 
 ten, — with autumn too the robin comes. There he 
 could be seen perched on the topmost branch of 
 that lofty fir, giving his accustomed quick and 
 active salaam ; after which break forth in rich and 
 mellow strains, as if his little heart would burst 
 with gratitude and praise, and so continued, 
 provoking into song another brother on the 
 opposite tree. Welcome to our windows, our 
 only autumn songster ! we greet thy return from 
 thy summer retreats as the enlivener of dull 
 winter. 
 
 The trees and other plants likewise proclaimed 
 
 VOL. I. Q
 
 226 THE MODERN PEDAGOaUE. 
 
 autumn's reign. How quiet and still is autumn ! 
 all vegetation seems falling to sleep, and the 
 winds appear careful not to disturb tlieir slum- 
 bers. Ever and anon a leaf comes trickling 
 down, no more required to clothe tlie boughs, but 
 now to assist in protecting the roots, where the 
 life-blood is deposited, until the heat of the sun 
 shall again call it forth to life and circulation, 
 producing leaf and fruit as it flows through the 
 arteries of the great trunk. But others again, 
 as the evergreens, are independent of this state 
 of somnambulism, possessing a spirit in their 
 constitutions which renders them imper\dous to 
 cold. Great God ! how wonderful are all thy 
 works ! in wisdom hast thou made them all !
 
 227 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 " I have seen them one by one, — 
 Every shore beneath the sun ; 
 And my voyage now is done." 
 
 Montgomery. 
 
 " I SAY, Racliie/' commenced Farmer Brunt _, " I 
 suppose feast mil begin to-morrow. I don^t know 
 whetlier our nephew Tom will be here or not ; 
 no doubt if tlie young dog^s in England lie''ll 
 find his way to Old Farm ; it is two years this 
 feast since he paid us a similar visit. I don^t 
 know that he ever missed a feast before ; but he 
 has been away_, they tell me, up in Blueland, or 
 Greenland, or some such outlandish part of the 
 world, and the other day I heard that he was on 
 his way home from the Indies, — but our nephew 
 is a movable article, changes his spots pretty 
 often, I fancy. Our brother is a little to blame 
 with respect to Tom, Rachie ; you know he gave 
 
 Q 2
 
 228 THE MODERN PEDAaOGUE ; 
 
 liim a good edecation, and thouglit to make an 
 M.D. of him. Our brother allis liad a little of 
 that about him ; he allis respected a person with 
 a handle to his name, but by hook or by crook 
 Tom gave them the slip before he knew much 
 about the profession, I fancy, and went surgeon 
 on board a whaler bound for the Polar regions. 
 Everybody thought, after that, that he would 
 have had enough of salt water; not he, for 
 since then he suddenly left again, and now, as 
 I said just now, is on his voyage home from 
 the Indies. Well, it is a good job for him that 
 his friends were born before him. But I like 
 the boy, for all his fast ways ; he^s as good-tem- 
 pered a fellow as ever breathed; up to every- 
 thing, and as active as a bee, only he^U never 
 make any honey, I reckon. I should amazingly 
 like to see him at the feast to-year ; he is such a 
 queer dog, he keeps all the young uns alive, and 
 the old uns can^t help grinning a little at his 
 comic words. But bother to his jawcrack words, 
 they make me look of all the world like a fool ; I 
 can^t think where he picks them up ; then he will 
 wear that what-de-call-it — "^staches." I hardly 
 like to walk we^n, for in my mind he looks of all 
 the world like one of the London swells. Then if 
 we meet the Squire or the parson, he speaks to 
 them in such a high-fly manner; and then, by
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 229 
 
 gore, I can hardly contain myself as lie walks 
 into tliem so about tlie weather and the crops ; 
 and yet the young rogue cares for neither, I 
 know, for he never comes into the country but 
 when there is fun to be had, the young dog. I 
 only hope he^ll find his way to Old Farm to- 
 morrow ; and, I say again, if England holds him 
 he^ll be here ; he^U come and see his old nunkey, 
 as he calls me." 
 
 The farmer, as he spoke, crossed the room, and 
 looked through the window, and, as he did so, 
 shouted in excitement, 
 
 ^^ By Jove, Rachel, and there he is, as I am a 
 living sinner. My eye ! and what a rum figure 
 he cuts to be sure, as thin as a Jarman flute, and 
 always will be, unless he gets quieter. What ? 
 a jack-tar^s hat on his head, and a soldier^s 
 knapsack on his back ! And that^s my nephew ! 
 Yes ; now that just suits him to a turn. See how 
 the young rogue waves his hat ; and hear him 
 shouting ' Boat ahoy ! boat ahoy ! ' 'Tis he ! 'tis 
 he ! I knew it was ; never before did I see such 
 a spring-heeled- Jack in my life. Molly, quick \'' 
 called the farmer ; " run and open the gate for 
 that gentleman ! '^ 
 
 " What ! for that tramp, master ? '* 
 
 ^' Go, go, and don't stand parlying there." 
 
 " What ! for that soldier, sailor man ? Laws
 
 230 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 now, Molly donH like soldiers nohow, their coats 
 be the colour of blood, and frighten me ter- 
 ribly." 
 
 " Let him in, I tell you ; I know him, and so 
 will you, I guess, presently." 
 
 " Hollo, hollo here ! Boat ahoy ! boat ahoy ! 
 Open gates! Down ports!" continued Tom. 
 " Hollo, Molly ! my prime little maid, as bright 
 as a lobster just boiled, and getting younger 
 every day. Tell me, is Captain Brunt, of the 
 good ship Old Farm, at home ? " 
 
 ^' Laws now, if it isn^t Master Thomas, that 
 ■'tis to be sure ; sure how yeller you be grown, as 
 yeller as master's corn to-year. I shouldn^t have 
 known you. Master Thomas ; that I shouldn^t now, 
 if you hadn^t spoke." 
 
 " Well, old girl, how are aunty and nunkey, the 
 cats and the kittens, and the whole of you, eh?" 
 
 " Come in. Master Thomas ; come in, and wel- 
 come to the feast," said Molly. 
 
 " Thank you, thank you, my little charmer," 
 replied Tom. 
 
 "Well, nunkey," commenced Tom, ha^'ing en- 
 tered, " and how do you do?" giving the farmer^s 
 hand a hearty press ; '' and how are aunty and 
 the family, all well I hope, from the roots to the 
 branches ; master and servant, all in good health 
 and spirits I trust ? Here I am, you see, nun-
 
 OE, KUSTIC EEMINISCENCES. 231 
 
 key, returned once more to Old Farm, somid wind 
 and limb, timbers bright and tigbt. 1 thougbt, 
 by the bye, tbat you would not be able to do 
 without me on tbis festive occasion, so, in tbe 
 multiplicity of my engagements, I have thrown 
 all overboard, and am come to do myself tbe great 
 pleasure of meeting you on this very auspicious 
 occurrence. I always endeavour, my bonoui'ed 
 nunkey, if possible, to meet you on these excit- 
 ing, exhilarating opportunities." 
 
 " Bravo ! bravo ! Hurrah, hurrah, boy ! hur- 
 rah ! shouted the farmer. " I feel young again, 
 that I do now. Welcome, boy, welcome to Old 
 Farm!" at the same time shaking his nephew^s 
 hand in a most determined manner. 
 
 " You see, nunkey," resumed Tom again; " you 
 see I have been going up and down in the wide 
 world, like a certain gentleman is reported to .do, 
 — better read of however than known more inti- 
 mately, — constantly changing my spots, seldom 
 coming to an anchor, but going on and on. And 
 how do you do, dear aunty ?" said Tom, now that 
 that lady made her appearance ; '' does me good 
 to see the ladies ; didn^t see any all the way from 
 the East Indies. Can^t do without them, nunkey ; 
 life would not be worth living were they always 
 absent. Dear merry, cherry, active, lively crea- 
 tures, in the absence of whom the world would
 
 232 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 be a complete blank, chaos, confusion ; and exist- 
 ence a dreary beginning with a melancholy end/' 
 
 " Stop ! you good-for-nothing boy," said his 
 aunt ; " how can you go on so ? '^ 
 
 " Can't help it, aunty ; can't help it," replied 
 Tom j " truth will bear it. Can't be too fluent on 
 a subject ; it must come out." 
 
 " Tom, my boy," said the farmer again ; '^ I 
 am glad to see you; welcome, I say welcome 
 again to our annual feast." 
 
 "Thank you, dear nunkey, thank you," com- 
 menced Tom, " for this deep expression of senti- 
 ment in your hearty invitation. I feel inexpres- 
 sibly delighted, and rejoice at having this oppor- 
 tunity of reciprocating our mutual relationships 
 and attachments ; and, and, I would go on, but for 
 the exceeding dryness in my throat, caused by 
 fatigue and the dust of travelling." 
 
 " Stop, stop, you rogue. I see, I see," said 
 the farmer, giving Tom a slap on the shoulder ; 
 "bring a glass of cherry -brandy — a glass of 
 cherry -brandy. What am I thinking of, I won- 
 der, that I should forget so ?" 
 
 " All right, all right, nunkey," said Tom, 
 taking the glass, and repeating — 
 
 " From distant lands and seas I come 
 To join the feast at Farmer B run's j 
 Welcome, all ye light and gay, 
 And keep the general holiday."
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 233 
 
 "Good, good ; bravo, bravo ! it^s Tom again,^' 
 said the fanner ; " now ^tis,^^ gi^iiig ^^^^ another 
 slap on the shoulder. 
 
 " Mj nunkey will excuse my taking the poet's 
 licence in our ancient name in the toast just 
 given," said Tom. "Now, nunkey, here's to you 
 and aunty, and all friends, present and absent, 
 I was going to say; may you always live to keep 
 these annual feasts in this prince-like style, and 
 invite wild Tom Brunt to them ! " 
 
 "You young dog,'' said the farmer; " you know 
 you have a free ticket of admittance at Old Farm." 
 
 " My dear nunkey," replied Tom again, " I 
 feel the greatest gratification, satisfaction, and 
 elevation, by these deep expressions and demon- 
 strations of regard from my highly honoured 
 father's brother. The sentiments are those I 
 shall ever esteem, cherish, and appreciate, and 
 which the rude hand of time will never deface, as 
 long as memory holds a place in this bosom," 
 and Tom struck his chest. 
 
 " Hold, hold, you rogue !" cried the farmer. 
 " Tom, my boy," said his uncle again, "I thought 
 you had enough of sea when you went fishing up 
 in Greenland, and caught that enormous sprat." 
 
 " Now nunkey, don't be too hard on a fellow. 
 I didn't go fishing, I went whaling, — two en- 
 gagements precisely different. A whale, in the
 
 234 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 scientific sense of tlie word, is not a fisli; and 
 the enterprise and daring necessary in order to 
 capture this monarch of the deep should never 
 be stigmatized by that simple definition ; but 
 more of this on another occasion. You know, 
 nunkey, as I said before, I like to change my 
 spots ; I am a restless sort of fellow ; I like to 
 see the world. I know the old adage ' A rolling 
 stone gathers no moss/ but it becomes more 
 smooth and polished. Look at the pebbles on 
 the seashore; see how round and smooth they 
 appear, although at one time angular, misshapen 
 pieces of flint or granite. This change was pro- 
 duced by rolling in the wide ocean. So man, 
 rolling in the mighty ocean of life, tossed to 
 and fro by the eccentric waves of the world, 
 loses his rough edges, gains a polish. I have 
 seen and mingled with many varieties of the 
 human family, who difi'er as much in manners 
 and customs as they do in physical appearance. 
 I have seen men by whom the blubber of the 
 whale is considered a dainty dish. Others, on 
 the contrary, whose food consists of simple 
 rice, seldom tasting animal food. I have been 
 in countries where brandy would freeze in a few 
 hours, and others where snow and ice would be 
 the greatest novelties. I have sailed through 
 the three great oceans, and visited three conti-
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 235 
 
 nents of the world. It is true_, when whaling I 
 tired of the employment. The life became dull 
 and monotonous; I like action^ change, going 
 on. Whaling is necessarily too stationary an 
 emplo}Tiient for me. You and !_, nunkey, differ 
 in this respect ; you resemble yon solitary oak in 
 the middle of Ten Acres. I remember that tree 
 when a little boy, — the earliest thing almost 
 I can remember; it has never moved nor 
 changed its place, since an acorn small it was, 
 perhaps by chance dropped into the spot where 
 still it stands, a sturdy, handsome, plethoric tree. 
 You, nunkey, have been on this farm ever since 
 my birth, and long anterior to that event. The 
 tree drew its nourishment and sustenance from 
 the surrounding land until it expanded and 
 developed itself to what we see it now — a giant 
 oak. You, like that tree, nunkey, have been 
 rooted to one spot, from which you have derived 
 nounshment, from these grateful fields, these 
 rich, broad acres. Proofs are plenty; yon bulky, 
 bulging-stomached ricks ; these panting, fat, 
 •ver-burdened sheep and oxen; yourself, nunkey, 
 in constitution resembling the heart of oak. On 
 the contrary, I, swallow-like, change my abode, 
 so from place to place, and clime to clime, to 
 catch my little fly; like them, I am light and 
 thin, and miserably attenuated. But stop, this is
 
 236 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGTJE. 
 
 a time of fun and frolic ; but I think since I was 
 wrecked oflF the coast of Malabar I bave grown 
 sentimental/^ 
 
 " Wbat, sbipwrecked \" said the farmer. 
 
 " YeSj shipwrecked/^ replied his nephew.
 
 237 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 " The wily quarry shunn'd the shock, 
 And turned him from the opposing rock." 
 
 Scott. 
 
 "With your leave, nunkey/^ commenced Mr. 
 Tom Brunt, " I will take a short stroll through 
 your dominions, and see whatever is to be seen ; 
 and you, I know, nunkey, will lend me a shooting- 
 stick and retriever, in order to beguile the lonely 
 hours.^' 
 
 ^' Tom, my boy, you are welcome to everything 
 the house affords,^' replied his uncle ; at the same 
 time reaching down from the beam over the fire- 
 place his well-polished double-barrelled fowling- 
 piece, presented the same to his nephew, remark- 
 ing, as he did so, ^' Load well, point straight, and 
 that^s the gun that will bring them down, 1^11 lay a 
 trifle •/' and in a few moments our sportsman was 
 crossing the fields, gun on shoulder, followed by
 
 238 
 
 tlie ever-ready slieep-dog Slieplierd_,wliOj although, 
 kept and trained for the protection and folding 
 of sheep, was as fond of the gun as his master, 
 and could perform the office of retriever in a 
 clever and most efficient manner. 
 
 Hundreds of sparrows, finches, and other 
 small birds rose before him from the stubble as 
 he wended his way across the fields, having been' 
 busily engaged picking up the scattered grains 
 dropped in the process of housing the shocks ; 
 and flocks of starlings, larks, and rooks were 
 wheeling round and round over the adjoining 
 meadows, occasionally alighting for a few mo- 
 ments on a chosen spot, but speedily rising again 
 on the first appearance of the distant enemy. 
 
 But Mr. Thomas Brunt had been accustomed 
 to more exciting sport than these harmless bipeds 
 could afford him. He had hunted the royal 
 Bengal tiger in India, and the white bear in the 
 polar regions ; the death, therefore, of a sparrow 
 or lark was to him a miserable conquest. So, 
 stalking onward from field to field, and meadow 
 to meadow, ever and anon pointing the gun, but 
 refraining to fire at anything that rose belonging 
 the class Aves ; when presently Shepherd nosed 
 something in the hedge, which, on breaking 
 cover at a most terrified speed, proved to be a 
 hare; on seeing which, Tom, in the excitement
 
 OE, KUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 239 
 
 of the moment^ witliout properly considering 
 whether he possessed the necessary qualifying 
 document termed a " certificate/'' fired at the 
 timid quarry, which happily resulted in merely 
 making the little fugitive increase its speed still 
 more, the shot having taken no signal eS'ect-. 
 
 "Well, Shepherd/^ said Tom, looking down at 
 his dumb companion, " I have missed it this time, 
 and no mistake ; and you, old fellow, are cheated 
 of the paunch ; but we must hope for better luck 
 next time," and so commenced re-loading, re- 
 marking at the same time, " I have been so long 
 accustomed to rifle and ball, the fowling-piece 
 comes rather strange, I suppose." 
 
 AYhen suddenly commenced a voice, "Holla, 
 there, mister ! and a precious good job for you 
 that you did miss^n. What did you fire at that 
 there hare for, eh ? Answer me that. I just sid 
 you miss that there hare now, I did ; and a pre- 
 cious good job, I say again, for you that you did 
 miss^n, for PU be bound now, and lay a farthing 
 to a croAvn, that you can^t show me a stifcate for 
 carrying that there gun. It^s all very fine, I 
 guess, for Farmer Brunt to allow folks to run 
 all over the country shooting at everything they 
 can see ; but I fancy me lord will have a bone to 
 pick we'n on this job, and with you too, I reckon, 
 or my name isn^t Lurch."
 
 240 THE MODERN PEDAGOGrE ; 
 
 This speech was delivered from the other side 
 the hedge^ — the hedge which separated the 
 nobleman^ s field from that of Farmer Brunt's, at a 
 point much trodden down by persons in the habit 
 of crossing from one property to the other, and 
 by a man dressed in the usual keeper's garb of 
 velveteen coat and corduroy smallclothes, and who 
 had with him gun and ferrets, and who was like- 
 wise followed by a little thorough-bred Scotch 
 terrier. 
 
 On the first assault from the other side of the 
 hedge, our sportsman, having considered himself 
 far away from any human being or dwelling, felt, 
 for the moment, a little taken aback ; but 
 speedily recovering himself, commenced placing 
 himself in a cool attitude of defiance, and an- 
 swered the attack as follows : — 
 
 "Well, my man, and pray who may you be, 
 belching forth your vulgarisms in this ignorant 
 and uncalled manner? Pray who may you be 
 breaking in upon my sporting hours in this do- 
 mineering and unwarranted mode of address ? 
 Am I right in presuming that you belong to that 
 herd of retainers called ' keepers of game'? " 
 
 " I," said the man, " am keeper to Lord Hunt- 
 ing ; whose duty it is to bring before their betters 
 any persons I catch shooting on or near me lord's 
 estates without having the proper leave and 
 licence."
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 241 
 
 " Yes, all, yes ; I thought as much/^ replied 
 Tom; " I thought you were that too often neces- 
 sary evil termed ^a servant/ by the manner in 
 which you dared on this occasion to address your 
 superior. Here, then," continued he, taking a 
 card from his pocket-book, " present this to your 
 noble master, with my compliments." 
 
 The keeper appeared thunderstruck at this 
 piece of unexpected assurance and demand. 
 
 " Beg pardon. Sir ; beg pardon. Sir," said he, 
 making a low bow; "I didn^t know, I didn^t 
 know." 
 
 ^^ No, not at all, never mind, never mind," re- 
 plied Tom, at the same time moving his hand 
 with a commanding air ; ^' see that you safely de- 
 liver my card, that is all;" so left the keeper to 
 his thoughts and reflections, scrutinizing the card, 
 much like the South Sea Islander, the speaking 
 chip (as he termed it) ; but presently recollecting 
 himself, whistled his terrier, took up his gun and 
 ferrets, and went on his way, when, having ad- 
 vanced a few steps, stopped, drew forth the card 
 from his pocket, turned it over and over, again 
 remarking, as he did so, "A gem men, no doubt ; 
 none but gemmen keep these here things, and he 
 tells me to give it to my lord. Does he think 
 me fool enough for that, I wonder? Why, if I 
 were to go up to my lord, and give^n this here 
 
 VOL. I. E
 
 242 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 bit of card, lie would think me an ass outriglit. 
 I knows my lord would ; and perhaps the gem- 
 men knows my lord, and I have been a lee-tle 
 too fast like, and I shall get into a pretty thick 
 cover. I wish the card was on my fire up in 
 Hollywood. No, mythinks 1^11 let it pass off; 
 there ain^t much writ on the card, but it terrifies 
 me amazingly. I hates black and white ; yet the 
 gemmen says he has no stificate, — a trap of me 
 lord's, ril lay a trifle, to catch his cunning 
 keeper ofi" his guard. No! I got it; TU do my 
 duty, — that'll stick fast longest. I'll keep the 
 card a little while, and get round to Farmer 
 Brunt's. Maybe I shall learn something about 
 the owner, and then we must hav'n up at quarter 
 sessions to show cause why, and the rest on't." 
 
 " Now," said Tom, as he passed on in the op- 
 posite direction to that of the keeper, '^ my native 
 land is a fine country, deHghtful in landscapes, rich 
 in fields and pasture, a pleasing diversity of hill 
 and dale, well-wooded parks, bountiful and ever- 
 running rivers, and the climate healthy and invi- 
 gorating, and destitute of that enervating and 
 relaxing principle experienced in the far-ofi* East. 
 Yes, I can truly say, — 
 
 " England, with all thy faults, I love thee still, my country." 
 
 But still there is a want of freedom ; there is too 
 much of man's restraint for me to remain in the
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 243 
 
 old country again ; I want to breathe more freely ; 
 the Tvide ocean is free ; tlie far North is free ; the 
 East curtails not so much the liberty of her sons ; 
 but home we come, to find by restraint that we 
 are in England. In some respects, too, the poet's 
 words are appHcable here as in Greece, where he 
 says,— 
 
 " ' "WTiere the virgins are soft as the roses they twine, 
 And all, save the spirit of man, is divine.' 
 
 Yes, that is true; in some respects all appears 
 divine except that which is really so, the spirit 
 of man. We can excuse the poet a little for this 
 licence and latitude, considering that perhaps he 
 drew his conclusions from an exterior view ; for 
 how difficult it would be to spell out divinity in 
 the face of our friend the keeper just now ; yet 
 we must not doubt the fact.'' 
 
 Tom was marching on in this musing manner, 
 when Shepherd had, as he considered, the good 
 fortune to start another hare, and coming to his 
 master, looked imploringly in his face, inviting 
 hun to fire. " Down ! down ! Shepherd," said 
 Tom. " No, my dumb friend, you must restrain 
 your sporting, propensities as well as myself. 
 You are in England, Shepherd ; and if you are 
 not careful, your life will go to pay the forfeit. 
 You, as many of your race have, will become a 
 martyr to England's laws in this respect. No,
 
 244 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 we must find more innocent objects. I should 
 like to be tlie leader of a crusade against such 
 a system. 
 
 "Wellj I dare say now, — and it seems highly 
 probable, — that this creature of another will bring 
 me before my betters, as he terms them. It will be 
 some satisfaction in having an opportunity of see- 
 ing such at any rate \^ and Mr. Thomas Brunt 
 threw his gun over his shoulder, called old Shep- 
 herd, and made for the farmhouse. 
 
 " Rachie,^^ commenced Farmer Brunt to his sis- 
 ter, after Tom had left for the sporting ramble, 
 "mythinks Tom is as active as ever; but he 
 seems to me like a ship with broad-spreading sails 
 constantly propelling him forward and forward, 
 never letting him come to rest or anchor. Now, 
 in my opinion Tom wants fixing. Could we only 
 get him to stop at one place, I know he could 
 manage anything and everything. I tell ye 
 what, Rachie, I have been thinking, could we only 
 get a nice little anchor for him in the shape of 
 a pretty pair of blue eyes, and all that, Rachie! 
 eh, Rachie ? Myth inks he would settle down, and 
 become amazingly useful to his father and me. 
 Bother to the on-and-on fashion he^s got into ; 
 here to-day and off to-morrow, and then nothing 
 more of him for twelve months. I reckon that 
 one day he^ll go beyond come-back; in fact, I
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 245 
 
 know lie will_, living witli Indians, savages, and I 
 was going to say devils of that sort ! Wliat more 
 can be expected ? Or maybe some epidemic will 
 take hold of him ; then, good bye to seeing Tom 
 again. 
 
 " Why, it is downright mad, Rachie ; I don't 
 know what my brother can be thinking of. Here 
 he and I are getting two precious old fogies, if he 
 did but know it. I sha'n^t be able to tramp about 
 my barn and stable for ever, and brother will soon 
 be unfit for the counting-house ; and yet here is 
 the only one of our name, the only heir to his and 
 mine, living this scamping, vagabond life. 
 
 " I tell ye what, Rachie, I should like to see 
 him fall over head and ears in love with Miss 
 Vine, our doctor's niece, I should now; a nice 
 young girl she seems to me ; allis at church, at- 
 tending to our pa'son's first-rate sermons, which 
 I know will do anybody good that attends to 
 them. Mr. Clearview's sermons are of the right 
 sort, Rachie, depend upon it they are. I hope 
 you and I, and all who hear them, will take care 
 to get the right thing out of them. 
 
 " Tom shall hear them, too, next Sunda'. I dare 
 say he will call him a Methodist though; but 
 never mind; it is time to have a new method 
 when the old ones get so plaguy fusty. So 
 much tomfoolery, and so little of God and Christ
 
 246 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGrE. 
 
 going on nowadays, wlio knows, Racliie, but that 
 Mr. Clearview^s sermons may do Tom good ? We 
 all know tliat lie goes to the right granary for 
 his corn ; and we know that if we sow good seed 
 in spring, we expect a good harrest in autumn. 
 I only wish a corn or two would drop right into 
 Tom's heart. There is good ground there yet, 
 I know, if we could only get the seed into it ; 
 but I am gone from what I intended to say. 
 Now, Miss Yine is a bit of a particular of mine ; 
 so kind and attentive to her uncle and aunt, and 
 in my eye she is the most genteel young lady in 
 the whole parish. Tom, you know, sister, will 
 be well off; his friends were born before him ; 
 his father will leave him all his ; and here's the 
 farm. I should like him to settle and live here, 
 and help to manage that which one day will be 
 his own.'' 
 
 Miss Rachel had been sitting in a very restless 
 manner, listening to her brother's long address 
 respecting the future of her nephew, Mr. Thomas 
 Brunt, but her patience at last gave way under 
 the pressure, when she commenced, ^' Dear me, 
 to be sure, I beg your pardon, brother, for in- 
 terrupting you, but I must see after Molly 
 and the bread. Molly," called out Miss Rachel, 
 " I forgot, quite forgot ; is it time to draw the 
 bread?"
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMINISCEXCES. 247 
 
 '^ Not tlie loaves, missus, but tlie cakes are 
 taken out of the oven." 
 
 "Right, quite right, Molly; now you were 
 more thoughtful than I gave you credit for." 
 
 " Yes, missus," returned Molly, " I tries all I 
 can, but ^tisn^t much Molly can remember, Molly's 
 skull is precious thick ; things go in at one ear 
 and out at the other, I fancy much Kke a sieve ; 
 shall remember more some day, maybe." 
 
 "Well, brother," commenced Miss Eachel 
 again, " I like the idea much, I am sure to be in- 
 terested in anything respecting our nephew, and 
 it is very likely Miss Vine and her uncle will call 
 in to-morrow, and if so, I will make them as com- 
 fortable as possible." 
 
 " Do, Rachel, do," returned the farmer, " and 
 in the meantime I will touch Tom up a little on 
 the softer sex ; I will try and see whereabout he^s 
 ploughing in that respect, I will. Molly, tell Dick 
 to come to me," called the farmer. 
 
 "What the fresh chap, master?" inquired 
 Molly. 
 
 " Yes, you know ;" said the farmer. " Now 
 Dick, hast thee found out the ways of Old Farm ?" 
 
 " Yes, master," answered that worthy. " I 
 knows all about very well now." 
 
 " Well then, as to-morrow the feast begins, be 
 quick and active like ; take care of the gentle-
 
 248 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 men^s horses^ clean them well down, give them 
 plenty of good hay ; and straw for beds, and have 
 them ready for the gentlemen in time/^ 
 
 '^ Molly, bring in the tea/' demanded Miss 
 Eachel ; '' but law bless me now, Master Thomas 
 has not returned yet ; I hope nothing has hap- 
 pened to him. Brother, are you sure the gun 
 was all right ? I dislike guns so much/' 
 
 " The gun, Eachel, is all right enough, I know ; 
 but there is one thing I am not entirely easy 
 about,'' said the farmer. " I forgot to put Tom 
 on his guard with respect to Lurch, the keeper. I 
 know he has been prowling about, sneak as he is, 
 to catch my little bird-keeper ; but he will have 
 to wait some time before he catches him, I reckon ; 
 but Tom will let fly at anything that rises before 
 him ; I forgot to forewarn him, therefore he'll not 
 be forearmed. I hope he won't fire at a hare, 
 that's all, or he will be sure to have him up at 
 quarter sessions, for carrying a gun and shooting 
 without a licence; and no much matter maybe, 
 being on our own grounds, — but it's a nuisance to 
 be had up before the great ones like that." 
 
 "I beg pardon, brother," interrupted Miss 
 Eachel; "but Molly, Molly, how are the pud- 
 dings and pies getting on ?" 
 
 " First-rate, missus ; mythinks they will be a 
 deal better than last feast," answered the ser- 
 vant."
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 249 
 
 " That's right, that's right, Molly ; keep the 
 puddings well boiling, and covered thoroughly 
 with water, and mind the pies don't burn ; see 
 to the dairy, skim the milk, and feed the pigs. 
 Bless me, what a noise they are making, you must 
 be certainly deaf, or you would hear them too ; 
 and I wonder now what Betty is about ; law dear 
 me, to be sure, hasn't she finished the geese and 
 turkeys yet?" 
 
 "Yes, missus," replied Molly, "they be all 
 done, and very fat they be to-year; my thinks 
 they'll please the folks amazingly, especially 
 when served up as you can serve them up. Miss 
 Eachel." 
 
 " There, go along, go along, and attend to your 
 cooking." 
 
 " Laws, missus," commenced Molly again ; 
 " mythinks we shall miss Sam this feast ; he was 
 such a handy chap plucking fowls, carrying dishes, 
 and the likes, allis ready to help a poor soul; 
 poor fellow, I hopes he's better oflP now." 
 
 " Yes, yes," replied the lady ; ^' there now, go 
 and attend to your work. Here, stop a moment, 
 I forgot to ask you what you think of my nephew, 
 Master Thomas ?" 
 
 " Think of 'n, did you say. Miss Rachel ? Law 
 bless you now, Molly can't think at all, no ways, 
 I only stares at 'n ; it seems like but the other
 
 250 THE MOPEEX PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 day he was but a bit of a boy, but now, laws how 
 folks alter to be sure ! he is a man grown, with 
 beautiful whiskers, and ^staches round his mouth. 
 I wonder all the ladies in the parish don^t fall 
 dead in love we'n, mythinks ; and then he is so 
 quick and active like, here, there, and everywhere 
 in a moment, — I only wish our new chap was half 
 as fast ; I can^t make much on him carrying 
 dishes and the likes. Sam was a deal quicker. 
 And then Master Thomas has been to the Indies ; 
 a fine country, I fancy, where the great ones go 
 to get rich, and the ladies to get husbands ; but 
 where their faces are blacker than poor old Molly^s. 
 Oh laws ! I wonder what Mister Tom thought of 
 the black girls, I am sure they be enough to 
 frighten a Christian right out, they be sure V 
 And away went Molly to attend to her baking 
 and boihng, laughing all the way at her own ideas 
 and wit. 
 
 " Well, Eachel," commenced the farmer, as he 
 entered the house, " I have been round the cow- 
 house and stables ; poor Sam is terribly missed 
 there. The cattle don't seem to have moved much 
 the past week, they must be forced a little, or 
 they won't be of much account at Christmas ; I 
 must see to them myself a little. And now I won- 
 der where our nephew is got to, I hope he won't 
 forget the chatter-water."
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMIXISCEXCES. 251 
 
 The table at this time stood waiting, laden with 
 the usual comfortable farmhouse fare, consisting 
 of sausages, flead cakes, pork, bread, cheese, and 
 butter ; in addition to which, a brown jug of home- 
 brewed beer stood at one end, reminding us of 
 the diet of our Saxon forefathers, and which was 
 always considered indispensable at Farmer Brunt^s 
 tea-table, as he and his gentlemen friends pre- 
 ferred taking a glass of that beverage as a pre- 
 paration for the leaf of China. The fire blazed 
 away merrily, before which were stretched at 
 their greatest longitude, and in the most lazy 
 manner, two mousers, who ever and anon turned 
 the colder side to the grateful and soothing heat, 
 and tbe kettle on the hob was declaring, as plain 
 as possible, and in most superior breadth, that 
 the aqiia piira was ready for preparing tea. 
 
 '' Here he comes, here he comes, Rachie," said 
 the farmer, returning from the window ; '^ no 
 game, I fancy .^^ 
 
 "Yes, here I am, nunkey," commenced Tom, 
 '' returned from harmless sport, only made the 
 feathers fly and the legs run a Httle faster. So long 
 accustomed to the rifle, nunkey, the fowling-piece 
 comes a little strange to me. I have not been 
 clever enough to take the innocent life of any- 
 thing ; there was, however, a large, rough biped 
 that set up a most vehement crowing on the other
 
 252 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 side of the hedge. Had it been in days of yore, 
 it might perhaps have ended in a duel ; however, 
 I knocked him back a little by making him the 
 bearer of my card to his noble master/' 
 
 "Now that was Lurch, the keeper, I lay a 
 crown,'' said the farmer. " Didn't see you kill, 
 I suppose ?" 
 
 " Xo," replied Tom, " but he saw me fire at a 
 hare, which I was unlucky enough to miss, upon 
 which he came up and desired my certificate; 
 but of course, not having been provided with such 
 a necessary and precious document, I could not 
 produce the same." 
 
 "Yes," said the farmer, after musing some 
 time, " I am glad you did not kill, boy, very glad ; 
 they are dreadfully strict here. Xow mark me, 
 we shall hear of it again. Xo doubt but we 
 shall have to appear at magistrates' meeting on 
 this job." 
 
 " Yes, he said he should bring me before my 
 betters," replied Tom, at the same time taking 
 off his shot -belt and powder-flask ; " and as I am 
 anxious to see such, no doubt I shall soon have 
 my curiosity gratified in this respect. They 
 can't do much, you know, nunkey; a fine will 
 meet, no doubt, the exigencies of the case, as no 
 blood was shed, and I will ground my defence on 
 the fact that the fields were poor nunkey' s, and
 
 OK, RUSTIC EEMINISCENCES. 253 
 
 we shall all live again after that, never fear, my 
 honoured father^s brother, and at the feast to- 
 morrow we^ll drink success" — 
 
 "To great men and small, 
 Keepers and all ; 
 The best and the worst, 
 The last and the first. 
 
 Hip, hip, hurrah ! " 
 
 And Tom sent his cap up to the ceiling. 
 
 " Bother that fellow, though," said the farmer ; 
 '^ I should have told you of that shark ; but never 
 mind, never mind, the chatter- water is waiting, 
 we won^t think any more about it at present ; and 
 when the row begins, 1^11 go with you, boy, but 
 sha^n^t be able to do much, I reckon." 
 
 " Think about it, nunkey ? I should say not 
 indeed," said Tom ; ^^ we are not going to make 
 the anticipation worse than the realization." 
 
 "Well, aunty," commenced Tom, again turning 
 in the direction of that lady, ^^ jow. have everything 
 looking very nice and comfortable here. This is 
 better than being in a small cabin in the ice, 
 bound north ; there are no ladies there, you see, 
 nunkey, and they are the authors of all our do- 
 mestic comfort." 
 
 " Yes, we should like to have everything com- 
 fortable," replied Miss Rachel, "if the servants 
 were only better; but they are so deceiving in
 
 254 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 their work, and so very uncertain^ tliat it is al- 
 most impossible to get on witli them/^ 
 
 " Something like the natives of India, eh, 
 
 aunty ? ^' remarked Tom. " Now, aunty, I think 
 you ought to go to India, to know what servants 
 can be/' 
 
 " I am sure I am very glad I am not there,'' 
 said Miss Rachel. 
 
 "Well, well, you know I mean to know the 
 character of servants. You would think after 
 such experience, that Europeans of that class 
 were angels indeed. Why, aunty, think of the 
 truth being always an exception, but the reverse 
 the rule. Do you ask what o'clock it is, they 
 will first try to discover the moment you're anx- 
 ious about, and that is the time they will make it 
 to be. Or, if going from home and the clouds 
 frown upon you, and look as black as thunder, 
 inquire if it will be fine. Yes, master, a glorious 
 day, although the rogues know it will wash you 
 in ten minutes. But we treat the matter as a joke, 
 knowing what to expect beforehand." 
 
 "Well, boy," commenced the fariner again, 
 " you find English shooting difi'er from Green- 
 land fishing ?" 
 
 " Yes, nunkey, you see there are no keepers 
 there ; all's fish that comes to net." 
 
 " Many didn't get into my nephew's, I fancy," 
 replied the farmer, with a knowing wink.
 
 OK, RUSTIC EEMINTSCEXCES. 255 
 
 ^' No, nunkey, I didn^t obtain mucli oil myself, 
 but I gained experience. I learned to be self- 
 reliant, to fall back upon my own resources for 
 recreation and amusement. Two or tliree years 
 an inmate of an old tub of a wbaler, nothing but 
 sea all round, and snow in tbe distance, witb tlie 
 occasional appearance of a little undersized Es- 
 quimaux, enveloped in tlie skin of a white bear 
 or sea cow — would not suit tbe man who could 
 not school his mind from change and excitement. 
 No, nunkey, a person who could live three years 
 in the Polar seas, and not commit suicide at the 
 end of the time, would not find any reason for 
 such a disagreeable alternative when settled down 
 on a solitary farm in his own native country. 
 No, there is nothing particularly dull here when 
 you can command your fishing-rod and gun, and 
 enjoy the privilege of using them ; then there is 
 much to interest and delight in the production 
 and improvement of the animal and vegetable 
 kingdoms. No, there^s nothing dull at Old 
 Farm, especially when my kind aunty and nunkey 
 are by the fireside." 
 
 " Stop, stop, you rogue," said the farmer ; 
 "here^s your cup of tea getting cold. I am 
 precious glad you see things as you do, boy. 
 There's hopes of you yet, lad," giving his nephew 
 a familiar slap on the shoulder. " I am very glad 
 you have had enough of whale fishing."
 
 256 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 " That designation again, nunkey. Now, as I 
 said before, tlie whale, in the scientific sense of 
 the word, is not a fish at all, but belongs, strictly 
 speaking, to another class of animals ; the whale 
 belongs to the class Mammalia, or Suckgivers. A 
 fish is an animal that breathes under the water, 
 not by lungs, but by gills ; its blood is cold, 
 feelings obtuse, brings forth its young by means 
 of eggs, takes no care in hatching them, nor- of 
 the young when hatched. The whale lives in the 
 water, but never breathes under that element, or 
 suffocation would be the result, as it breathes by 
 lungs ; its blood is warm, feeling acute, brings 
 forth its young alive, suckles and takes care of 
 the same until old enough to take care of itself. 
 Often have I seen the whalers capture the young 
 one in order to secure the mother, the love of 
 her offspring being so great that she refuses to 
 leave the spot where she lost sight of it, and in 
 this way becomes herself a prey to the harpooner. 
 It is to this fact, and the knowledge of her being 
 unable to breathe under the water, we owe our 
 success in capturing this monster of the deep, 
 for when the harpooner strikes she sinks, but 
 must soon rise to breathe again, when she re- 
 ceives another harpoon; down again she goes, 
 but not for long, not having had time to breathe 
 properly before, up she comes again, but receives
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 257 
 
 another blow before inspiring tlie vital air ; the 
 blood is flowing fast, she makes an effort to sink, 
 but lies floating like a log on the surface ; the 
 lance is applied to the vital parts of the body, the 
 blood rushes forth, the sea becomes tmted with 
 it, she bellows, and in the greatest convulsions 
 dies ; but frequently in her death-struggles, with 
 one vibration of her tail, sends men, boat, and all 
 into the air. This, nunkey, is whaling.^* 
 
 " Well, Tom, my boy,-*^ said the farmer, '' I see 
 it differs mightily from what we call fishing ; it 
 is a mighty deal more troublesome work than 
 catching eels in our river.^^ 
 
 " Please missus," interrupted Molly, " the pud- 
 dings and pies are done, and the turkeys and geese 
 are dressed; shall I put them into the pantry V 
 
 " Yes ; wait a moment, Molly. Bless me now, 
 to be sure there^s something broken ; go and see 
 what it is. Well, what V 
 
 '^'^ Betty, missus," replied Molly, "just knocked 
 a dish off the table." 
 
 " Yes, just like her ! Oh, the servants, the 
 servants ! they are enough to ruin any one, I am 
 sure they are," observed Miss Rachel. 
 
 "Never mind, never mind," said the farmer; 
 " accidents will happen ; think no more about it. 
 It won^t mend the broken plate, nor make a new 
 one, I reckon." 
 
 VOL. I. s
 
 258 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 " Here^ Molly," commenced Miss Racliel again, 
 " come and take away the tea-things. See you 
 don^t drop them ; and move a little quicker, or 
 to-morrow, as my brother says, we shall have a 
 fast instead of a feast." 
 
 "Now Tom, my boy," said the farmer, "let 
 us draw nearer the fire; the autumn evenings, 
 mythinks, are getting cold." 
 
 " With all my heart, nunkey," replied Tom ; 
 " and we^ll have a little tobacco ; I occasionally 
 indulge in the frugal weed," at the same time 
 drawing forth the necessary ammunition and ap- 
 paratus from his pocket. "Try a cigar, try a 
 cigar, nunkey," said Tom ; " they are perfectly 
 mild, and would tempt the most fastidious appe- 
 tite." 
 
 "No, thank you, boy," replied the farmer; 
 "I think perhaps it would make me feel all 
 worse, and no better." 
 
 "I wish I could tempt you to become a 
 smoker," said Tom ; " it would make the solitary 
 hours pass like a panorama from your vision. 
 Tobacco, nunkey, has its virtues, depend upon 
 it ; it is an excellent narcotic, good for bachelors, 
 soldiers, and sailors ; it makes up, in some de- 
 gree, for the society of the softer and more in- 
 teresting sex. But even now, I think," added 
 Tom, musing, " I think if I could meet with a nice
 
 OK, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 259 
 
 little Eve, with an exterior tliat would enamour a 
 Greek artist, brilliant peepers, vermilion lips, 
 clever, patient, of superior mind, with a voice 
 like the nightingale, or like the mellow cooing 
 and wooing of the turtle-dove, — eh, nunkey? eh? 
 I think for such a charmer I could give up watch- 
 ing the curling cloud ; but for nothing less, I am 
 wedded to it at present. Xunkey smiles at the 
 idea, but I believe it is quite necessary to my 
 existence ; in the North Seas I have sat on the 
 side of the ship, wrapped in my sealskin, with no 
 other companion than this pipe, watching the 
 waves chase and chafe each other, thinking of 
 home, old friends, and you, nunkey, and aunty 
 likewise, — I don^t forget old friends, you see, 
 nunkey. I have smoked it with the child of the 
 north, and the native of the south and east ; it 
 warms in the cold, and cools in the heat ; I can 
 recommend it, nunkey ; I don^t know any clime 
 or circumstances where it might not be used ^ath 
 the desired eflfect." 
 
 ^^Now Tom, my boy,^^ commenced his uncle, 
 " did you ever feel that soft, what-do-they-call-it 
 ^ sentiment,^ — a sort of all over, can^t-help-it 
 feeling ? Tell me that, boy.'' 
 
 s 2
 
 260 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 " These things to hear, 
 Would Desdemona seriously incline." 
 
 Shakespeare. 
 
 " Nunkey/^ replied Tom, ^' nunkey/^ at the same 
 time slowly lighting his pipe, "nunkey, you 
 mean ' love/ Now, FU tell you what the sailors 
 say ; they say a man is not in love until he 
 can walk over the side of the ship, and not 
 be aware of his mistake until he finds himself 
 plunging and struggUng in the cold salt water ; 
 now, I never did that foolish thing, therefore, 
 according to sailors^ logic, I was never in love. 
 But while I smoke this last pipe, I will just give 
 you a little incident, bearing upon the subject, 
 that on one occasion befell me in India. Travel- 
 lers, nunkey, fetch their experience from afar, so 
 I must direct your attention for a little moment 
 to India — that land of princes, palaces, balls,
 
 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE. 261 
 
 music^ fashion J life, — tlie world, nunkey, the 
 
 world/^ 
 
 " Land of love and social hours, 
 Land of birds and pretty flowers. 
 Land of warm and sunny skies. 
 Land of soft, but killing eyes, 
 Land of rich and gaudy state, 
 Land of everything that's great." 
 
 " India, nunkey,^^ continued Tom, " is all that, and 
 more might be added. Now of course I and 
 the ofl&cers of the ship were invited to the balls 
 and routs at Calcutta, and there it was I became 
 introduced to a beautiful, rich, and accomplished 
 lady; she could play beautifully, and sing better; 
 her sentimentals, nunkey, were affecting, be- 
 witching, enchanting, fixing, and transfixing ; 
 her mind, too, adorned with a European educa- 
 tion, was contained in a figure by which the 
 most fastidious Greek artist would have been 
 enamoured. Yes, nunkey, this rich, accom- 
 plished beauty smiled — '^ 
 
 " On you, boy ? on you, boy V demanded the 
 farmer. 
 
 '^ On me,^' replied Tom. " Yes, this Eastern 
 maiden sighed like as no Western one can sigh ; 
 and her eyes softened to tears when I told her of 
 England, her riches, her honours, her noble sons. 
 She would sit for hours, attentively drinking in 
 all I could advance ; and when, in her native 
 simphcity, she asked, ' Do you love me V "
 
 262 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 *' What did you say_, boy ? what did you say, 
 boy ?" inquired the farmer, deeply interested in 
 the subject. 
 
 " What did I say, nunkey ? what did I say ?" 
 said Tom, and leisurely knocked the dust from 
 his pipe again. "1 said nothing ; I was dumb." 
 
 '^ Dumb !" said the farmer. 
 
 "Yes, dumb !" returned the nephew; '^^dumb 
 as old Shepherd." 
 
 " What could have ailed ye, boy ? what could 
 have ailed ye ? A Brunt dumb in the society of 
 all that was beautiful ! why, boy ? why ?" 
 
 " Nunkey," replied Tom, " I feel I must have 
 another pipe ;" which he loaded and lit, and 
 again commenced smoking like a volcano or 
 locomotive, when, quietly taking it again from 
 his mouth, observed, "Why, nunkey, she was 
 'black.'" 
 
 " Black !" shouted the farmer, and jumped off 
 his seat. " Black ! did you say black ?" 
 
 " Yes, as black as old Jet," replied Tom. 
 
 " Oh, my eye ! what a joke," said the farmer, " if 
 my nephew had presented to us his black wife !" 
 
 " Yes, nunkey, it would have been, but never 
 will be," replied Tom. "Yes," he continued, 
 musing, " she was black ; ' a blush would never 
 tinge her fine countenance. I enjoyed her music, 
 her cultivated voice ; her talent pleased me ; but
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 263 
 
 in all probability I sliall never sail to the East 
 again ; my next trip, nunkey, sliall be to the far 
 West, — I am longing for this voyage. I will visit 
 the magnificent and free continent of America, 
 where nature glories in the sublime and gigantic ; 
 there, to be seen only to be admired, are the 
 mighty falls of the world-famed Niagara, with 
 its insinuating and subtle rapids ; there, the 
 rivers, endless and everlasting, roll unmolested to 
 the fathomless ocean ; there, the lakes — magni- 
 ficent inland seas — stretch over hundreds of 
 square miles, and tip ten thousand miles of 
 shore ; there, prairie and pampa glory in their 
 original primitiveness ; and primeval forests, 
 with their sturdy leviathans, lashed together with 
 the parasites of ages, preserve countless game 
 for the wily, undaunted hunter ; there, wild ani- 
 mals by thousands scour the plains, and delight 
 in one general and universal holiday; herds of 
 wild bulls, bisons, and deer, gallop over hill and 
 dale, and troops of wild horses feed on the plains ; 
 there, the sly jaguar, too, crouches in the fork 
 of the overhanging forest trees, under which the 
 active peccary grunts in coaxing mood to his 
 companions ; the condor soars aloft above the 
 highest Andes, and the painted humming-bird 
 flits from flower to flower, and sucks the nectar 
 of every blossom ; and where, likewise, under
 
 264 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 your feet^ or coiled round tlie aged trunks the boa 
 and rattlesnake are heard and seen. Yes^ nun- 
 key/^ repeated Tom^ " I must visit America ; 
 good shooting there, minus keepers ; how I shall 
 enjoy the freedom, nunkey \" 
 
 " Tom, my boy," said his uncle, " not if I can 
 help it you won^t, I can tell ye. I want you to stay 
 at home now ; your father has plenty, and here is 
 the farm I intend you to have some day. I tell 
 you what, Tom, you must get a wife ; but, mind, 
 not a black one ; and come and settle down with 
 us. Your father and myself are getting in years, 
 and should like you now to stop with us. I must 
 see my brother respecting this business ; it will 
 never do for his only son and my only nephew to 
 go wandering up and down the earth without 
 anybody to care for him ; this isn^t the way for a 
 Brunt to live." 
 
 '^'^Now, nunkey," commenced Tom, ^' you know 
 I have had my fling and my freedom, and I like it, 
 and I don^t expect ever to be able to submit to that 
 domestic state called matrimony. I see all the 
 bearings of the position at once, — a married man 
 must be fond of home, his fireside, must not study 
 his own inclinations alone, but having brought 
 another to share his fortunes, vicissitudes, and 
 other accidents, she being the weaker, but most 
 susceptible, must be the first consideration. Now,
 
 265 
 
 I have not schooled myself in this way, but have 
 delighted in change. Change of friends, places, 
 and climates; this, you know well, nunkey, has 
 been my failing from a boy ; objects have become 
 uninteresting and irksome as they have grown 
 familiar. I, nunkey, like to smile on all alike, 
 without any danger of meeting an overwhelming 
 frown from the opposite of the room, just a little 
 intimation what a fellow must expect when 
 returned to his own hearth or curtains. No, 
 nunkey, you will not, I am sure, admit that I am 
 a fit subject to be bound thus until I can long 
 and sigh for such a ' state of bliss ^ with the 
 young poet, alas ! too young to have been expe- 
 rienced in the matter, — 
 
 *' If far from me the Fates reraoTe 
 Domestic peace, connubial love, 
 The prattling ring, the social cheer. 
 Affection's voice, affection's tear," etc. 
 
 No, nunkey, I tell you I am not a fit subject, 
 until I can give up the whole world and concen- 
 trate my affections upon one small atom of crea- 
 tion ; women, nunkey, in this matter are selfish 
 and exacting.^' 
 
 " But still, Tom, mythinks,^' said the farmer, 
 " I should like to see you settle down. You have 
 sid quite enough of the world; I want you to 
 come and live at Old Farm, as I said before, it
 
 266 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 must come to you. I have been careful ; there^s no 
 rent to pay, no mortgage, tlie land has been well 
 manured, cleared from weeds, and in first-rate 
 condition for wheat growing. I entered it a 
 tenant, but shall leave you the undisputed owner 
 of that which cost me years of frugality and care 
 to acquire.^^ 
 
 '^ My respected nunkey,^^ said Tom again, " I 
 cannot too highly appreciate and be too fully sen- 
 sible of your kind solicitude for me, your hair- 
 brained nephew ; but, before giving you anything 
 like a final answer to jour very kind and never- 
 to-be-forgotten, but very serious proposals, I 
 must take some little time to weigh, to deliberate 
 on this state, not of perpetual motion ; but, on 
 the contrary, of perpetual quiescence.^^ 
 
 Bob now entered the room, having been engaged 
 all day, on the farmer^ s behalf, disputing the right 
 to the before-mentioned field of potatoes which 
 some hundreds of the Squire's rooks had laid a 
 strong claim to, and who for days, as before re- 
 marked, had been swooping down upon the same 
 and again rising high in air beyond reach of shot, 
 each loaded with a large potato, a few of which 
 would have gone far in filling the bushel. This 
 of course gave the farmer much uneasiness. 
 
 *^'Well, my little keeper,^' commenced the 
 farmer, turning in his chair, ^^have you been
 
 167 
 
 able to get a shot at any of tlie black thieves yet ? 
 I am almost sure they^ll not leave a tater behind^ 
 now they have commenced them. I wish the old 
 Squire would get rid of the cawdng pirates, I do ; 
 but he's very good in the parish, folks haven't 
 got much to complain on, as I knows on/' 
 
 '^ No/^ replied Bob, " I haven^t shot any, but 
 I have caught two of them/^ 
 
 " Caught two, you say V inquired the farmer, 
 again starting in his chair. 
 
 "Yes," replied Bob, "and left them hanging 
 in the potatoes, a warning to the rest." But 
 seeing Master Tom w4th the moustaches fixing 
 his eyes upon him. Bob felt a little shy for a mo- 
 ment, but at last related how he had succeeded 
 in capturing two of the enemy. 
 
 " Well done, well done, my little keeper ; you 
 have saved the field now, that you have, for 
 they^ll never come again after being taken in in 
 that way ; for they are no fools on the march, but 
 terrible wise customers. There, now," he con- 
 tinued, " go to bed, and dream of the feasts and 
 lots of pudding." 
 
 Whether Bob actually dreamed of the feast w^e 
 cannot say; he was not much in the habit of 
 spending the time allotted for repose in that way ; 
 for he usually retired for the purpose of sleep and 
 nothing else, as his feathered charge had before
 
 268 THE MODERy PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 hinij and with whom, or earlier if possible, he had 
 to rise on the following morning in order to pre- 
 vent them breakfasting off Farmer Brunt^s wheat. 
 
 A feast in the country was considered one of 
 the most exciting seasons in the whole year. 
 Open housekeeping was the rule; the reverse, 
 the exception. Every edible of which England 
 could boast might be found at this time on the 
 farmer^s table; but seldom, even then, did he 
 think of going beyond his own neighbourhood 
 for the desired turkey, goose, fowl, or beef, which 
 met together at the annual festival. The drinks, 
 likewise, consisted principally of cider, beer, mead, 
 home-made wine, etc., all of home production, 
 but to which English hospitality all were alike 
 welcome. It was on such festive occasions that 
 the more isolated farmer became conscious of the 
 more advancing members of his calling by whom 
 he was surrounded. It was now the small hard- 
 worked landholder met his more wealthy and 
 easier-going brother of the plough; it was now 
 that the ambitious man, farming his thousand 
 acres, condescended to acknowledge the httle 
 holder of eighty or one hundred. 
 
 And here I would remark, en passant, that the 
 voracious appetite for the acquisition of land in 
 some individuals is not generally the way to 
 wealth ; all such obtain, frequently, is merely the
 
 KTJSTIC REMINISCENCES. 269 
 
 name of farming a thousand acres^ — a quantity 
 more than any person, can properly manage and 
 render productive^ and pay rent, taxes, labour, 
 etc. etc. ; it is more than he can properly stock 
 or manure ; and as every year finds a farmer 
 becoming richer and richer, or poorer, so he 
 suffers accordingly. Starve your land, and the 
 same will very soon starve you, — is an old saying. 
 One hundred acres, cleaned, manured, and other- 
 wise properly managed, vdW produce as much as 
 double the quantity only half attended to. Then 
 what a mistake is here committed, with respect 
 not only to the renter himself, but likewise to the 
 public at large, in sacks, bushels, and pounds. 
 
 But, as before remarked, all were alike welcome, 
 and really desired at the feast ; and not only the 
 neighbouring farmers, but their mechanical 
 friends likewise, as the farrier, wheelwright, etc., 
 — all were welcome at these annual gatherings to 
 eat and drink at the farmer^s expense, and all were 
 happy and merry as could be well imagined. One 
 alone might be seen looking anxious, it was the 
 mistress of the establishment, who, with not unfre- 
 quently inferior help, had to prepare, in no limited 
 degree, the viands consumed during the festivities. 
 
 A farmer^ s wife ! what does the term imply ? 
 not unfrequently a helpmeet indeed. From the 
 day of her marriage she seldom knows little else
 
 270 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 than work. She frequently takes the office of 
 housekeeper and self-denial; as if by her early 
 and late energies her husband was to become 
 enriched^ and the desired gold saved. Farmers^ 
 as a class, are proverbially fond of money ; their 
 pockets are too often endless chasms, out of which 
 it is impossible to extract the precious metal. 
 They are hospitable and neighbourly, and will, 
 without grudging, give j^ou all the house affords ; 
 but, reader, never ask them for money, I warn 
 ye! 
 
 The day having arrived, the visitors would 
 commence dropping in about two o^ clock, that 
 being the principal dinner-hour; but the pro- 
 visions were left on the table long after this time 
 for stragglers who might yet feel disposed to 
 make a call. Jokes and rustic wit, with conver- 
 sation bearing upon cows and sows, litters of pigs 
 and teams of horses, tithes and taxes, the prices 
 of hay and corn, etc., which some of the most 
 close and best-to-do always declared, if continued 
 at the present rate, would ruin half the farmers. 
 The younger branches of visitors would, when 
 the evening set in, too, indulge in a few country 
 dances, when top-boots, and those of lighter ma- 
 terial, would blend together in friendly proximity. 
 When assembled, however, the visitors presented 
 a rather motley appearance ; many of the young
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 271 
 
 men and maidens suffering a sort of transition 
 state between tlie old and new systems of farm- 
 ing, many of wliom attempted tlie more modern, 
 but fashionable, costume, — tlie young men, for 
 instance, sporting a gold pin in tlie scarf, and 
 strapped trousers, in the place of small-clothes 
 and gaiters ; but who would be occasionally out 
 in judging distance, proved by the ever and anon 
 kick delivered on the leg of some innocent but 
 unfortunate chair or table; and the occasional 
 scream of a lady, whose dress was passing the 
 very disagreeable ordeal of being trodden on by 
 the foot of man, which foot was not unfrequently 
 a measured reality, rendering it no little difficulty 
 to the owner to place it within an inch or two of 
 the exact spot intended. Others, however, were of 
 the old school, and did not even attempt a new 
 coat; and to whom the fantastical young chaps, as 
 they designated them, were very disgusting, for 
 they themselves ignored even the appearance of 
 dress, — considered such very bad policy indeed, — 
 as folks would begin to think ^^varmers^^ well-to-do, 
 and the landlords in consequence raise the rent ; 
 such things have been known in days gone by, and 
 it was not impossible that the same might occur 
 again. One, a Mr. Cutman, and rather an extraor- 
 dinary person, both mentally and physically, and 
 of whom it was reported that he always grumbled
 
 272 
 
 at market, and spoke to every one of tlie badness 
 of tlie weather, blight, and the probability of a bad 
 harrest, and ruined " varmers ; " and of whom it 
 was said that at a certain season of the year he 
 would walk through his grateful cornfields, un- 
 grateful man as he was, and pluck the only ear or 
 two of blighted wheat, and exhibit the same at 
 market as specimens of the whole field. "And 
 thousands more besides,^^ he would say; "the 
 harrest will be far enough below the average 
 to-year, I know it must be ; ^^ and all this de- 
 ceit, low cunning, and falsehood, in order to in- 
 fluence the market in an upward tendency. 
 
 Mr. Cutman was no particular friend of Farmer 
 Brunt^s, as the farmer frequently expostulated 
 with him on his deceptive propensities ; but yet 
 he considered himself a very necessary adjunct 
 at the feast, so always found his way to Old 
 Farm on these open-hearted occasions. 
 
 Mr. Thomas Brunt was highly amused, as well 
 as amusing. He was at home with every one ; 
 and his urbanity of manners rendered him a 
 general favourite with all, for, in fact, Tom could 
 be at home in any society ; soldier, sailor, tinker, 
 tailor, countryman, or citizen, learned or ilHte- 
 rate, — all came the same to him. This, as he told 
 his uncle, was what he had obtained by travel. But 
 Farmer Cutman observed, after he had taken a
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCEXCES. 273 
 
 pint or two of cider, that he thought the young 
 man rather too fast, and he would see, he observed, 
 " if he couldn^t take^n down an inch or two ;" so, 
 after Tom had been entertaining the company, in 
 his usual free happy manner, with some sketches 
 from his travels and voyages, and just as he 
 had finished telling them that on sailing south 
 the sign of the Cross appeared in the heavens, a 
 beautiful constellation, —Farmer Cutman pushed 
 his neighbour, and, in a very insulting manner, 
 said, 
 
 " What does the feller say ? Going to make us 
 (hiccough), going to make us varmers believe the 
 moon^s made of green cheese (hiccough) ; here goes 
 at^n. Eh, there, Mr. Tom ! You there, as light 
 as a feather and thin as a match, looking of all 
 the world like a Lonnon counter-jumper ! Do you 
 mean to tell us varmers that you have weathered 
 the gale ? Do you think we be going to believe 
 them there cussed crosses, and the rest on^t ? '^ 
 
 Which challenge Tom, forgetting his dignity, 
 could not help meeting promptly and decidedly, 
 to the satisfaction of all; who wished that Mr. 
 Cutman knew better behaviom\ 
 
 On which Mr. Cutman commenced again, "Mr. 
 Tom, I hope no offence — not the slightest grain 
 on't; but 'pon my life now, if I hadn^t known 
 you, and sid you about on my farm, I should 
 
 VOL. I. T
 
 274 THE MODERN PEDAGOaUE ; 
 
 liave taken you for one of the London swell-mobs- 
 men/' 
 
 " Ah, yes, indeed ; and no bad judge either," 
 replied Tom, again. " Really now, you possess 
 more sagacity than I gave you credit for, 
 Mr. Cutman. But, excuse me, Mr. Cutman, 
 when I say a pig is known by his grunt, an ass 
 by brajdng, and a goose by hissing." 
 
 '^That^s a good un," said the farmers; *^^ bravo, 
 Mr. Tom; serves him right; how do you feel, 
 Cutman ?" 
 
 " I hope you^re not right off, Mr. Tom," said 
 Cutman. 
 
 " Not at all, not at all," replied Tom ; " only 
 one joke deserves another. We deal in nothing 
 else, you know, Mr. Cutman, at these festive oc- 
 casions." 
 
 At supper-time some of the young gentlemen 
 were guilty of indulging in that very low species 
 of wit, viz. puns on names, as, " Miss Hogg, shall 
 I assist you to a little pork ? Miss Vine, will you 
 accept a little wine ?" etc., — all very amusing to 
 some of the party, but not the less annoying to 
 the young ladies, who, of course, could not help 
 pronouncing such specimens of wit vulgar and 
 stupid in the extreme. 
 
 "Really," said Mr. Cutman, "if I was you, 
 Mr. Tom, I wouldn't let Miss Yine go by that 
 cognomen long, that I wouldn't."
 
 OE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 275 
 
 " I wish I wasn^t married/^ said a second. 
 
 " ni be shot if she shouldn't have the honour 
 of being Mrs. Smith before long. She shall be 
 mj second/' said another. 
 
 Miss Vine said nothing; but blushed^ and 
 wished she had not accepted the farmer's kind 
 invitation. 
 
 ^' Friends/' commenced Farmer Brunt, ^^ we 
 can be merry and wise. I hope no one will be 
 guilty of hurting the feelings of any one of the 
 friends who has done me the honour and kindness 
 to visit me at this season, and to whom I feel 
 obliged and indebted. I know, friends, that you 
 don't wish to wound the feelings of any one pre- 
 sent; but it will be better to drop all personal 
 remarks, altogether, for I am sure I feel obliged 
 to you all for coming here to-day, and my great 
 desire is that all shall be happy, wise, and com- 
 fortable." 
 
 " Yes," answered Cutman again, " that's it, 
 Brunt ; you and I know each other very well, we 
 weren't bom yesterday. Mr. Tom thinks, I 
 s'pose, that because he has been to the Indies 
 and about a bit, that we varmers must give best 
 to'n ; but we can let him know that we have been 
 born too near a wood to be frightened by an 
 owl." 
 
 " Yes," replied Tom again, " I could easily give 
 
 t2
 
 276 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 yon credit for that, Mr. Cutman. I should have 
 supposed you had not only been born near one, 
 but really in the middle, not only of a wood, but 
 a huge forest, cut off from civilization. But it is 
 easily accounted for ; you have taken, I see, Mr. 
 Cutman, a glass or so of strong ale or cider, which 
 has been too much for your weak brains, and which 
 has rendered fluent your ignorant tongue." 
 
 *' Tom, my boy,"*^ said his uncle, " in the mul- 
 titude of words there is sometimes much evil ;-say 
 no more, he has perhaps taken a sup or two too 
 much on this festive occasion, but he does not 
 mean anything." 
 
 "Don^t I though, by gore?" roared Cutman. ^''I 
 say there's not a lady in the parish but is glad to 
 see me, a precious deal more than a bird of pas- 
 sage, a s waller like you, — there, that's flat, Mr. 
 Tom !" 
 
 " The ladies in your parish must be distressed, 
 indeed," said Tom, " before they would submit to 
 a thing like you." 
 
 " Yes, and they would be more distressed if 
 they couldn't see a better slip of a man than you, 
 with your cussed 'staches, — the ladies love the 
 varmers. Why the varmers are quiet, harmless 
 cretturs, allis at home, never gadding abroad 
 over land and sea." 
 
 " Friends," commenced Farmer Brunt, taking
 
 up his glass, ^' here^s to present and absent 
 friends, especially my nephew, whom I am most 
 happy to welcome, and introduce to you this 
 night. I am happy to see you, I say, boy, and 
 here's to you and all friends/' 
 
 " Nunkey,'' said Tom, " I see you wish me to 
 say something by way of thanks, but, like Othello, 
 I am slow in that way, and when I rise for the 
 purpose, always feel myself; but will just re- 
 mark, that I much appreciate the honour con- 
 ferred upon me in drinking my health in this 
 hearty manner, and wherever situated, under 
 whatever clime, or amongst whatever people, will 
 remember with great and deep affection, the 
 friends I met at Old Farm. Gentlemen, I have 
 much pleasure in proposing the health of my 
 uncle ; may he live long to conduct these annual 
 festivities, and sing his annual songs ! " 
 
 After the toast, the farmer gave his usual sen- 
 timentals, as ' The Brave Old Oak,' ^ Woodman 
 Spare that Tree,' etc. When Mr. Tom followed 
 with ^Oh, I should like to Marry,' etc., followed 
 by several comics, with a few real black songs, to 
 the no small delio-ht of Mollv and her mates of 
 the kitchen ; after which, Mr. Tom entertained 
 the company with illustrations of native dances 
 of the different nations and tribes with whom he 
 had been living in various parts of the world.
 
 278 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 Eoars of laiigliter followed the various illustra- 
 tions, at whicli our hero became so excited and 
 warm that he found it necessary to relieve himself of 
 his coat^ on which his feet went quicker than 
 ever, and the laughter increased tenfold ; but one 
 or two of the ladies were observed to blush a little. 
 " Mjthinks," said the farmer, after observing 
 Tom^s wonderful agility, " mythinks Tom has got 
 a rent in arrear, as Buxton, or some one has it'/^ 
 but which little misfortune Tom never discovered 
 until he retired for the night ; when it appeared 
 that the exertion of dancing had occasioned an 
 unfortunate rent in his nether garments, which 
 little episode helped to create the roars of mer- 
 riment ; and which incident, some of the farmers 
 remarked, they should not forget till their dying 
 day. Another source of amusement was some 
 practical jokes played oiBP by the ladies, more 
 especially on Mr. Cutman, who had fallen to sleep 
 and snoring duets with the singers, when one of 
 the young ladies having blacked his hand, tickled 
 his nose with a feather, which, in a half-sleeping 
 mood, Mr. Cutman rubbed on his face, in order 
 to allay the irritation produced by the pinion ; this 
 produced another volley of merriment, as they 
 contemplated Cutman^ s black physiognomy. 
 Blind man^s buflP, and other games, followed in 
 rapid succession, and at twelve o^clock, the ex- 
 citement appeared to be gaining its highest pitch.
 
 OR, EUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 279 
 
 " AVell, well/' said Molly, as she returned to her 
 friends in the kitchen_, '^ this has been a good 
 feast to-day, anyhow. My, didn't Master Tom 
 sing the black songs, and dance them dances ! 
 How his fit went to be sure, faster than any fit I 
 ever sid in my born days ! And my, didn't the 
 ladies laugh ! I thought they would have bust, 
 sure I did now; Master Tom is so mighty comical 
 in the black songs. I thought I should have un- 
 locked my jaws, I did now ; if I had stopped in 
 the room the smallest bit longer, I know I should, 
 and no mistake. Laws, how I laughed ! I don't 
 think I opened half so much last feast. To hear 
 how he answered Master Cutman ! Now that 
 sarved him just right ; what did he want to be 
 going on with Master Tom for in that stupid 
 way ? And the young ladies, too, what spii'ity 
 things they be, to be sure ! Laws, what a black 
 face they gid him, and how I laughed and gi'inned 
 when I saw him rub the black on his nose !" 
 
 " Yes," said Miss Kachel entering the kitchen, 
 "Mr. Cutman is too fond of the intoxicating 
 draught. That is the evil which makes him and 
 all men forget themselves. When the drink is 
 in, you know, Molly, the wit is out. Mr. Cutman 
 is generally a peaceable man. But I shall be very 
 glad when the week is over. I feel it is too 
 much for me ; my head is constantly aching."
 
 280 
 
 " Laws now, does it V said Molly. ^' Poor 
 soul, I be sorry for tliat ! Now you go to bed. 
 Miss Kacliel. Leave all to me ; FU put away 
 all the things, as well as I can remember, like 
 yourself nearly." 
 
 " You are very kind, Molly ; but I feel that I 
 am getting really tired of these times ; my nerves 
 won't stand the excitement. There was a time 
 when all went off easy enough with me ; but that 
 time has gone, gone, Molly, gone, and I shall 
 never see it again. I am getting perhaps a little 
 too old for these entertainments." 
 
 '^Laws, missus, don't say that," said Molly; 
 ^^ you are getting noways old yet." 
 
 ''^Well, perhaps not," returned her mistress. 
 " But if not old, I feel as if I were so." 
 
 "You shall go to bed," said Molly. " Caught 
 a little cold maybe. Fll make a little gruel for 
 you. You have worked too hard perhaps." 
 
 '' Yes, Molly," replied Miss Rachel, "without 
 sufficient assistance. My brother's kind, but has 
 no idea of the work it makes me, or he would 
 never care about these times. How fatigued I 
 feel, to be sure !" So saying, Miss Rachel retired ; 
 Molly promising to see all locked up, and the 
 keys taken up to her mistress. 
 
 After the company had left, Tom and his uncle 
 sat by the fire for a few moments, Tom smoking
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 281 
 
 his pipe as usual,, and talking over tlie first day 
 of the feast^ just past. 
 
 " I like them to enjoy themselves/' said the 
 farmer ; " but there allis will be some that will 
 make themselves disagreeable. I was sorry 
 Cutman went on so. You see Miss Vine and her 
 companions left early." 
 
 " Yes/' replied Tom, ^^ ^nd I am glad they did, 
 so as to escape hearing that fellow's vulgar- 
 isms." 
 
 "Yes," returned the farmer ; " Miss Yine is a 
 lady of mind, and doesn't like that free, off-hand 
 manner. I know it, and feel it myself, that there 
 isn't a more ignorant class than farmers gene- 
 rally ; yet I can't see the reason it should be 
 so. If they would be only half as industrious in 
 cultivating their minds as they are their fields ; 
 and they have plenty of time for it, in the winter's 
 evenings. But so it is with us all; we have as a 
 class neglected our minds." 
 
 The farmer whistled old Shepherd, and called 
 for the lantern, in order to proceed round the 
 premises before retiring. This was the farmer's 
 usual custom, winter and summer, in order to dis- 
 cover if any one was unlawfully lurking about the 
 ricks or barns ; likewise to satisfy himself that the 
 horses and cattle were properly tied up and cared 
 for. Unless he did so, he observed^ he could
 
 282 
 
 not sleep a wink ; and if by chance sleep over- 
 came him, he dreamed of ricks on fire, horses 
 and cattle struggling in their head-chains, until 
 he was glad to get up. Shepherd, too, always ac- 
 companied his master in his nocturnal rounds, 
 that his nose might be of service in detecting 
 any hidden burglar, should one dare to secrete 
 himself. ^ 
 
 As Mr. Thomas Brunt retired to his bedroom, 
 thinking over the exciting scenes of the day, he 
 discovered, for the first time, as before remarked, 
 the unfortunate rent in his nether garments. The 
 ridiculous figure he must have cut, and exhibited 
 in the presence too of those to whom he would 
 much rather have appeared in a far diff'erent 
 light, annoyed him exceedingly ; especially when 
 he called to remembrance the vehement laughter 
 occasioned, as he supposed, by his clever illus- 
 trations of the various native dances. But, like 
 most of us under similar trying circumstances, 
 he had one source of consolation, and that was 
 when he remembered that one, and the most 
 particular individual, was absent at the time. So 
 throwing off his coat, and giving encouragement 
 to this kind and relieving consideration, jumped 
 into bed ; and a very uneasy bed it proved to be, 
 for no sooner had his legs gained their greatest 
 longitude, than they were attacked by, or ran
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 283 
 
 against, as he supposed, a bundle of thorns, the 
 pricking of which, and in opposition to his will, 
 compelled him to utter words not unfrequently 
 used at sea; so drawing up, and collecting his 
 limbs as close as possible, like the tortured 
 hedgehog, rolled out in this position on the floor. 
 When, on examining the bed, he found, not 
 thorns, but some of the most stubborn slips of 
 the holly-tree, deposited by whom, and for what 
 purpose, was not dijSicult to conjecture, when re- 
 membering the practical jokes played ofi" on the 
 sleeping farmer the previous evening. 
 
 "The little culprits !^^ ejaculated Tom, as he 
 contemplated his understandings, spotted over 
 with the life of man, peering out from a hundred 
 lancet holes ; " the little culprits, the little dear 
 rogues ! I only wish I had them here, I would 
 serve them out in multiplication ratio with the 
 greatest pleasure ! But it serves me well right 
 for not having been on my guard, knowing this 
 to be the old trick played off on greenhorns. 
 But I hope no watch has been set at the door. 
 The little dears do this sometimes, and are de- 
 lighted to hear the consternation produced in the 
 devoted victim ; but never mind, all is joke at 
 this festive season. ^^ So, encouraging amiable 
 thoughts, he again entered his bed, and com- 
 menced the journey of Somnus.
 
 284 
 
 CHAPTER XIY. 
 
 Beside the bed where parting life was laid, 
 And sorrow, guilt, and pain by turns dismayed, 
 The reverend champion stood." 
 
 Goldsmith. 
 
 Miss Rachel contiuued ill, getting worse, daily 
 worse, so tliat it was deemed prudent to send for 
 tlie doctor, the uncle of Miss Yine, who came 
 without delay, and who, having seen the patient, 
 pronounced her position critical ; desired that she 
 should be kept quiet as possible, and every en- 
 couragement given to sleep, without delay, as 
 her illness had been occasioned by over-anxiety 
 and excitement, which had now resulted in ner- 
 vous fever, and which nothing but proper rest 
 and quietness could alleviate. So promising to 
 send a sedative, the doctor retired. 
 
 But the patient still grew worse. For a moment 
 a slight glimmering of hope appeared, but which
 
 THE MODEEX PEDAGOGUE. 285 
 
 was as speedily followed by a relapse, wliicli dis- 
 couraged the most sanguine well-wislier. 
 
 Molly, faithful Molly, was ever attentive, and 
 night and day at intervals watched by the sick 
 bed of her mistress ; and ever and anon, as she 
 beheld her sinking frame and sunken features, a 
 genuine tear of sorrow would trickle doAvn her 
 weather-beaten countenance, proving that within 
 that rough exterior deep and sympathetic feelings 
 were fostered, equal to those of her most refined 
 sister. 
 
 Tears may be characterized of many varieties, 
 and are not always a true index to the mind. 
 Some persons can scarcely speak without tears, 
 or laugh without tears ; they can, in fact, shed 
 tears almost at will, as the crocodile, who is re- 
 ported to eat her offspring, and then shed tears 
 over them. 
 
 Molly^s tears were not of this description ; her 
 tears were the true index to a softened heart; 
 her tears to the recipient were tears worth 
 having. " Yes,^' she would say to Betty in the 
 kitchen, " poor missus was a little sharp over 
 stupid Molly sometimes, but she was a good 
 missus for all that. Nobody wanted anything 
 when she was about ; she was always after some- 
 body or something. But I got it in my head 
 that she fussed too much a deal, and am sore
 
 286 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 afraid that if she don^t mend soon^ we shall have 
 to take her where we took poor Sam the other 
 day, poor soul ! I tell ye what, Betty, there 
 never is one trouble without another follows 
 hard on^t. Laws now, and now I think on't, I 
 heard a death-watch tick, tick away, all night 
 long, close to my bed^s head, only a week ago. 
 I donH like them death-watches nohow; they 
 means no good, I knows. And at twelve o^ clock 
 the night afore last old Shepherd set up howl- 
 ing; ay, mighty uneasy he was, poor fellow; 
 he saw more than we can see, I reckon. And 
 last night a screeching owl flew over the house, 
 just at the end where poor missus is lying so ill ; 
 and yesterday as ever was, I saw three ravens in 
 the Ten Acres, strutting away one afore the 
 other, of all the world like a funeral party. And 
 the boxes are all a-cracking, and the doors 
 knocking; all means something, I am sure it 
 does, Betty. I knows more than you; the gipsy 
 made me quite perfect in these signs. ^^ 
 
 Betty stood aghast, attentively listening to 
 Molly, when presently, lifting up her hands, 
 burst forth, " Laws, Molly, don^t ye go on so, or 
 I shall be afraid to go up and down the house 
 before long, that I shall now.^' 
 
 But Molly was an attentive and sympathizing 
 nurse. She shook the bed, and beat the pillows
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 287 
 
 well up, taking care likewise to place the patient^s 
 head at the most comfortable elevation, and in the 
 most tender and thoughtful manner, remarking, 
 as she did so, '' Xow poor Miss Rachel will feel 
 better, I hopes, poor soul/^ 
 
 "No, my good Molly," replied the sufferer; 
 "I don^t think I shall ever be better in this 
 world. I feel I shall not be long in this chang- 
 ing scene. I feel I am getting weaker and 
 weaker. Never mind, my good creature," ob- 
 served the patient again, seeing that Molly was 
 about to give way, " I would not speak so, but 
 feel I should do so, that my death might not 
 come too suddenly upon you. Molly, attend to 
 my brother and his, as you have always been 
 faithful to me." 
 
 "Laws, missus, don^t ye say so, don't ye say 
 so," said the servant, wiping her tears in her 
 coarse apron ; " we can't do without you, noways. 
 Molly's well enough, maybe, to do all she can re- 
 member, but she wants missus to go before. 
 A\Tiy, the few days you have been upstairs, we 
 miss you dreadful ; and old master walks up and 
 down the house of all the world like a fish out of 
 the water. I don't know, I am sure, what he 
 would do, if he hadn't Master Thomas to talk 
 to'n about the Indies and the alligators, and all 
 that ; and he's allis asking me to make some
 
 288 THE MODERN PEDAGOGrE ; 
 
 gruel or arrow-root^ or sometliing, to liave a stock, 
 as he says, although I tells him your appetite is 
 so awful bad/^ 
 
 "Yes/^ commenced the patient again; "but 
 Molly, you have been here a long time, and can in 
 some measure fill my place. Continue honest and 
 sober, and do all you can to get the rest into the 
 same good ways. Molly," said the patient again, 
 " I should like some one to read to me ; I can^t 
 read myself, I feel too ill. I should like some 
 one to read the Bible to me ; how short and pass- 
 ing is this life," she repeated. "1 have spent 
 what is considered a long life, yet what a vapour 
 it appears to have been ! I feel I have not read 
 enough, and as I ought. I have not been so at- 
 tentive as I ought j time has occupied my 
 thoughts too much. I have been careful over 
 many things — perishing things, — which now, 
 when I want heljD, avail nothing. How prone is 
 man," she continued, " to put off the all-import- 
 ant, the future, the unseen future, the never-end- 
 ing future!" she quietly whispered. "Molly," 
 called the patient again, " fetch my brother, fetch 
 my brother ; haste, be quick !" 
 
 As the farmer drew near the bed, the patient 
 gazed steadfastly on him. " Brother," she com- 
 menced, " you must not be astonished or alarmed 
 at what I am about to state, if my strength will 
 permit me to do so."
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 289 
 
 As tlie farmer looked upon his sister, his face 
 betrayed deep and strong emotion. He had been 
 called upon a similar errand frequently before ; 
 he saw it again, in all its deep and solemn reality. 
 The tears, unbidden, arose from their fountains, 
 and for a moment overflowed their channels. 
 
 " I have my forebodings, strong forebodings,^^ 
 continued the patient, " that time with me is 
 short, — a span, a brittle thread ; but you will not 
 vex nor grieve, but try and keep the people toge- 
 ther, poor things ; and especially care for Molly, 
 to whom, after my decease, you will find I have 
 left ten pounds a year.^^ 
 
 The farmer was quite overwhelmed by this in- 
 timation from his sister, and could not for some 
 moments find words to reply ; but presently, re- 
 covering himself, commenced, "Eachie, dear 
 Rachie, I find it hard to submit. I find it hard 
 in this case to say, ^ Thy will be done.^ '' 
 
 ^^ But you will have strength given you for the 
 day," returned his sister. ^^ Thy will be done, 
 thy will be done," she repeated. 
 
 ^^ Amen," responded her brother. ^' Amen, 
 amen," as he wiped the tears in his red pocket- 
 handkerchief, nervously grasped in both hands. 
 " Amen, amen." 
 
 ^' Brother," commenced the patient again, " I 
 want some one to talk to me, to read to me, of 
 
 VOL. I. u
 
 290 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 otlier tliings_, — eternal things, not perisliing things; 
 not of time, but eternity; not the present, but 
 the future, — the unseen future. I want some one 
 to read the Book, the only book now worth 
 hearing/^ 
 
 ^' Right, quite right,^' replied the farmer ; " I 
 will go at once, and get Miss Yine to come/' 
 
 "Yes, that wnll do; thank you, brother. I 
 shall be happy to see her, very happy. I 'tell 
 you, brother,'^ she continued, " I have done my 
 best to attend to you and yours. I have done 
 my duty, as they say, in this world ; but how 
 empty is it all ! It renders me no comfort, no 
 real satisfaction, now it is come to this.'' 
 
 "Now, dear sister," commenced the farmer, 
 "that is just what Mr. Clearview says. All our 
 works are worth nothing when we come to the 
 dying hour. The truth is, we can do nothing for 
 ourselves ; it is Christ that has done it all ; look 
 to him, trust in him alone, sister; believe that he 
 made a full and complete finish of the work he 
 came to accomplish; trust in him alone for sal- 
 vation. Ask him to send the Holy Spirit into 
 your mind, that you may see and feel that all is 
 right; go to him like the publican, go to him 
 like the dying thief, go to him as a humble, peni- 
 tent sinner, robbed of all self, and cast all hope 
 upon his self-atonement ; go with full faith
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 291 
 
 and confidence, and I know lie will give all you 
 desire, — 
 
 " He is able, he is willing ; 
 Doubt no more." 
 
 The Pharisees did mighty works. They kept the 
 Sabbath, fasted twice in the week, fed the poor, 
 clothed the naked, paid tithe, obtained the praise 
 of man; but he called them a generation of 
 vipers, poisonous vipers. Their works were not 
 made to follow faith in Christ, or else all would 
 have been well; but they imagined by their 
 works to earn, to help out their own salvation. 
 But they were miserably mistaken, for in so doing 
 they were robbing Christ of his glory, in that 
 he has done all in dying, — the just for the unjust. 
 No, dear sister, works will never produce faith ; 
 but faith will produce works, acceptable in the 
 sight of the Almighty. Works, without hum- 
 bling faith, will only increase our pride, and make 
 such doino-s hateful in the sio^ht of heaven. Dear 
 sister,^^ continued the farmer, ^'remember this, 
 that he came not to all the righteous, the self- 
 satisfied, but sinners, those who feel they want 
 some one to rest upon beyond themselves ; feel 
 that, dear sister, and he will be all in all to 
 you.'' 
 
 " I will try, I will pray to believe." 
 
 u2
 
 292 THE MODEKN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 "Lord^ lielp lier unbelief!" responded tlie 
 farmer. 
 
 ^' But think you, brother, tbat lie will pardon 
 all my neglect, all my sins ?" 
 
 " Pardon you, dear sister ? I am sure of it ; 
 for he declares by his prophet that he will. He 
 invites all, and says, although your sins be as 
 scarlet, they shall be as white as snow ; though 
 red like crimson, they shall be as wool." 
 
 " Yes, that is beautiful, encouraging, very en- 
 couraging ; that will do, that will do," said the 
 patient, and sank down again on her pillow. 
 
 ''Laws, master,^^ commenced Molly, as the 
 farmer entered the kitchen, "why, if it ain^t 
 nearly six o'clock, and you aiu't had one drop of 
 tea. "V\Tiat an upset illness makes, to be sure ! 
 I think poor missus seems awful bad, — no appe- 
 tite; as weak as an infant she gets, she does. I 
 took her up a basin of gruel, but it was nearly all 
 left ; then there's the arrow-root all come down 
 again. She doesn't take enough to keep body 
 and soul together. I wish I could only get her 
 to take more. If I could only make her well 
 again, I would cook all day long for her, that I 
 would now !" 
 
 '' Ah, Molly ! " returned the farmer, '' I fear 
 there is little hopes of her being any better in 
 this world."
 
 OE, EUSTIC EEMINISCENCES. 293 
 
 " Oil ! master, don^t ye say so ! Wliat shall 
 we do witliout Miss Rachel ? I am sure I don't 
 know. The Lord have mercy on us all V said 
 Molly. 
 
 " Yes, and so he mil, if you say that in faith, 
 and from your heart ; '^ and, inviting his nephew 
 to sit down, commenced tea, after reminding 
 Molly of a few delinquents, in the shape of a 
 spoon, etc., forgotten by her in the general con- 
 fusion. 
 
 Miss Vine was particular in her attentions to 
 the sufferer ; she daily came, read and talked to 
 her of the only important subjects welcome to a 
 dying Christian, and had the satisfaction of seeing 
 that as the body grew weaker it lost much of the 
 dross of the world, and the gold became more 
 and more refined. Miss Vine was particularly 
 assiduous to read portions of the Scriptures that 
 set forth most fully Christ's love to sinners. '^ Be 
 not afraid, my dear friend,'' she said ; " think of 
 this Scripture, ^ Believe in the Lord Jesus Christ 
 and thou shalt be saved.' See how easy it is, 
 there is nothing more to do, or where should we 
 be when we come to this ? It is all in Jesus," 
 she continued, '' who loves the sinner, but hates 
 his sins." 
 
 " Yes," said the patient, " I feel my sins heavy, 
 very heavy."
 
 294 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 " Yes/^ said Miss Yine, '' but tliey will never 
 destroy you if you repent and believe. TMnk of 
 this, ^ Come unto me all ye tliat are weary and 
 heavy laden, and I will give you rest/ Believe 
 that Christ's blood cleanseth from all sin, if we 
 have no presumptuous idea of helping by our own 
 works/' 
 
 '' I believe/' said the patient, ^' that Christ has 
 died for the chief of sinners, and I feel more 
 happy; in robust health, from a want of knowledge, 
 I neglected the true salvation. I had some con- 
 fidence in my works, — I entertained some idea of 
 helping ; but now I see that these self-made sup- 
 ports are useless to the sinner in the tr}dng hour. 
 They resemble the rotten props under the boughs 
 of the apple-trees; when the rough winds blow 
 they cleave asunder, and fall useless, useless. 
 No, all is in Christ that died and rose again, and 
 ever liveth to make intercession, and to him be 
 all the glory of presenting the sinner spotless 
 before his Father in the New Jerusalem." 
 
 " Jerusalem, my happy home, 
 Name ever dear to me," 
 
 She repeated. '^ I have been anxious," she com- 
 menced again, " about many things. I have 
 attended my church, read the blessed Book, said 
 the prayers, — but this is not salvation. Christ 
 alone is salvation ; Christ first, works last. The
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 295 
 
 first may be strictly done, and yet the sinner 
 not saved ; undone, and tlie sinner saved even at 
 tlie eleventh hour, as the thief, by a simple faith 
 in the Lord Jesus /^ 
 
 The Eev. Mr. Clearview was likewise in con- 
 stant attendance on the patient. He came with all 
 the kindness a humble Christian, still feeling 
 himself a poor sinner, but at the same time an 
 honoured servant of Christ. He commenced in 
 the most gentle and winning manner, so accept- 
 able to a poor sufferer. He came, not with the 
 sacramental emblems in one hand and a form of 
 prayer in the other, as delusive passports to 
 another world, but quietly drawing near the 
 couch of the patient, endeavoured to discover if 
 the same was an intelligent soul, with a full know- 
 ledge of the circumstances of the case. "How 
 are you to-day, my dear friend V' he affectionately 
 inquired. '^ I trust the pain of body is less than 
 yesterday ; I hope you experienced a better 
 night. I know your sufferings are great, but the 
 Lord will not give more than is necessary to bear. 
 We must remember it is only a phase of his love, for 
 ' Whom the Lord loveth he chasteneth, even as a 
 father the son in whom he delight eth.' Take all, 
 my dear friend, as a proof of his tender compassion 
 to bring you to himself before leaving this changing 
 scene for the bright and happy joys of heaven,
 
 296 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 where pain and sorrow shall be no more felt^ and 
 tears are wiped from all faces /^ 
 
 " Yes, Sir/^ said the patient ; " I trust alone in 
 Christ for salvation, all om:* works are as filthy- 
 rags/^ 
 
 " Bless God/^ said the minister j " how happy 
 now you make me ! " his countenance at the same 
 time beaming with joy, and his hoary locks 
 resembling indeed a crown of glory. The mi- 
 nister felt as a good and faithful servant who un- 
 derstood his Lord's will ; he rejoiced that another 
 witness was found giving glory to God, that 
 another jewel was about to be added to his 
 Master's crown. 
 
 " On this bed of sickness," said the patient, 
 " he makes me feel more happy than when walk- 
 ing in strong health.^' 
 
 " Just so," rejoined the minister : 
 
 "Jesus can make a dying bed 
 Feel soft as downy pillows are." 
 
 ^^ It is Christ, my dear friend," he continued, 
 "that is the rock, the support, the staff, when 
 passing the Jordan to the happy Canaan. ' It is 
 finished,' he said when hanging on the cross, — 
 finished the great plan of salvation; a glorious 
 finish accomplished by him alone, and they who 
 trust him shall never be confounded." Then, 
 having read a chapter and psalm to the sufferer.
 
 OR, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 297 
 
 knelt down and offered a plain and fervent prayer 
 to the tlu'one of heaven in behalf of the patient. 
 
 The farmer awaited the minister at the foot of 
 the stairs, in order to ascertain the state of his 
 sister's mind. " Grieve not, nor vex, my brother," 
 said the clergvman, " as one without hope, for she 
 sees fully by the eye of faith the accomplished 
 work of the Eedeemer. He is her trust ; he has 
 revealed himself to her, she rests safely on him ; 
 and he will guide and uphold her safely through the 
 valley and shadow of death, safe from every e^-il.^' 
 
 " The Lord^s name be praised V said the far- 
 mer. " Xow I can spare her ; now I will be re- 
 signed, and bless God for showing her the only 
 true way of salvation.^' 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Clear^-iew, " the way is simple ; 
 only believe, only believe, farmer." So saying 
 he took an affectionate leave of the f\irmer, and 
 soon was eno-ao^ed in other duties. 
 
 " That won't do, I tell ye," said Molly, as she 
 stirred the arrow-root for Miss Eachel. *' I tell ye. 
 Jack, you mustn't make so much noise ; poor 
 missus is awful bad, and I am terribly afraid we 
 soon shall have to take her up where poor Sam is, 
 poor soul ! The pa'son and [Miss Vine have been 
 both reading and talking to her about the blessed 
 countiy ; and that's a sign I 'spects, that she'll 
 never come down a2:ain until she is carried. I tell
 
 298 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 jou, doii^t keep wliistling tliere in that unfeeling 
 manner ; you don^t know how bad missus is ; 
 always so kind to you, too, allis lent you the 
 drab great-coat when you were out late in the 
 snow with the osses, and allis had a good fire 
 and something warm for ye when ye came from 
 market. I can^t think how folks can be so 
 wanting in common gratitude. When I think on 
 her, how I shall see her empty seat, her empty 
 bed ; when I think I shall never hear her voice 
 again, — why I shall stand it nohow,^^ and Molly 
 wiped her eyes with her apron. '^ I feels awful 
 sorry about Miss Eachel, I do,'' she repeated. 
 " Silence, Betty,'' she called out again ; ^' I tell 
 5^ou you needn't be saying anything about Miss 
 Vine ; she's a nice, kind lady ; very kind to poor 
 folks ; and allis says, ' Please Molly,' and ' Thank 
 you, Molly,' — so nice like, that it quite makes my 
 old heart feel difi'erent, it does; and when she 
 leaves ofi" talking to poor missus, talks to me 
 about Christ, and all that. Laws, it is so beautiful 
 to hear a young lady go on so that I think if I 
 was a yoQng lady I would be like Miss Yine, and 
 not like most of them, — dressing up to the skies, 
 and going to all the balls, fairs, and the likes, 
 but never thinking of poor souls, and Molly ;" 
 and away went the nurse upstairs with the arrow- 
 root.
 
 OR, ErSTIC REMINISCENCES. 299 
 
 " Molly, Molly," called Miss Eacliel, in a very 
 faint voice, as the servant entered, '^ I feel ill ; 
 worse, mucli worse ; call my brother and nephew." 
 
 When the gentlemen entered, Miss Vine was 
 sitting close to the patient's bed, resembling 
 much, indeed, a ministering angel, as she talked, 
 read, and did everything in her power to soothe 
 the sufferer, and to whom Mr. Thomas Brunt 
 made a low and respectful bow, at the same time 
 advancing towards her, shook her cordially by 
 the hand ; and thanked her for her great kindness 
 and watchful regard to his auut during the hours 
 of painful trial. 
 
 "Yes, Sir," she replied, a. slight colour at the 
 same time tinging her cheeks, " we are not sent 
 into the world to be selfish, we are not born for 
 ourselves alone, but to sympathize with and help 
 each other." 
 
 On looking towards the bed, Tom beheld the 
 patient's e^'es benevolently fixed upon him, and 
 turning to her said, '^ And how is dear aunty now ?" 
 
 "Worse, worse," she replied, quietly shaking 
 her head ; " worse in body, my dear nephew, but 
 better in mind." 
 
 "Dear brother," she commenced, addressing 
 the farmer, " I sent for you, being about to leave 
 this world. I seem to think now that time is 
 very short with me ; but don't vex or grieve. I
 
 300 THE MODERN PEDAGOGUE; 
 
 am going to be better off. I am going where 
 the wicked cease from troubling ; where the weary 
 are for ever at rest. You must keep up^ and 
 keep the home together ; but remember Christ is 
 all^ all is in Christy — 
 
 " He can alone our souls supply, 
 And give us courage -when we die." 
 
 My dear nephew/' she commenced, addressing 
 Mr. Thomas Brunt, ^^ you are young ; you may- 
 have a long life before you ; you have seen much, 
 of God's providence abroad on the mighty deep ; 
 you believe that he is ; you must believe in his 
 son, Jesus Christ, and then all will be well.'' 
 
 " Yes, dear aunty," said Tom ; " I believe that 
 he has sustained you in these trying moments." 
 
 ^' Yes, glory be to his holy name ! he is faithful 
 to his promise," said the patient. " No, he never 
 leaves nor forsakes them that are liis. Now, my 
 dear nephew, promise me that you will remain 
 with your uncle, — you will be a comfort and 
 great assistance to bim." 
 
 '' My dear aunty," replied Tom, '^ under suck 
 painful circumstances, I shall consider it a duty 
 to remain some time with my uncle." 
 
 "That's right; that will do, that will do," 
 said the sufferer; and again fell into a drowsy 
 swoon. 
 
 Tom and the farmer left the room, leaving only
 
 CE, RUSTIC REMINISCENCES. 301. 
 
 the attentive Miss Vine assiduously watching the 
 bedside of the patient. 
 
 The doctor having called,, the farmer required 
 from him a candid opinion respecting his 
 sister. 
 
 " Prepare yourself for the worst, farmer," he re- 
 plied ; " the end is at hand ; the system is nearly 
 worn out, — it might be a week, an hour, a minute-; 
 but come it must, and that very soon." 
 
 Scarcely had the doctor left, when Miss Yine 
 was heard calling loudly for the family to join her 
 in the bedroom, the last moments ha^-inof ar- 
 rived; but on entering all was over. Peaceful 
 and calm the remains of the once active Miss 
 Rachel lay, as if in a calm sleep ; and so it was, 
 the sleep of death : but the soul had joined the 
 mighty company of angels and peoples and 
 nations. 
 
 And now at the farm, after the first shock had 
 passed in some degree over, the inmates were, as 
 is usually the case under such circumstances, bu- 
 sily thinking of the funeral obsequies of Miss 
 Eachel, — Miss Vine, of course, having undertaken 
 the shopping, etc., in the absence of any other 
 female friend. 
 
 " Yes," said Molly, as she spoke to Betty in 
 the kitchen, '' I knew it would be so ; when they 
 must go, they must go, and nothing will stop
 
 302 THE MODEEN PEDAGOGUE ; 
 
 tliem — doctors^ parsons, gruelj and arrow-root; 
 all^ all, no acconnt. I lioped tliough that she 
 wouldn^t go just yet. I gave the medicine pro- 
 per all the night long ; but after all she slipped 
 away from us, and is gone to glory, somewhere 
 up in the sky ; in the sun it is, I reckon/^ 
 
 " Yes, I said so, Betty,^^ she continued ; " them 
 death-watches and shepherds howling meant no 
 good. T knew it would be so ; I knew as well as 
 if the undertaker and all his men had been here, 
 I did ; for last night a coffin jumped clean out of 
 the fire, right on to the rug. I looked at it ; no, 
 it was no pretty purse, but a doleful, doleful 
 coffin. I remember, too, before that poor chap 
 Sam died, one jumped clean into my lap. I hopes 
 it will be a long time before I sees any more of 
 them black conjurers, I do now.^^ 
 
 EXD OF VOL. I. 
 
 PEi:fTJiD BY J. E. TATLOB AND CO., LITTLE QUEEN STREET, W.C. 
 
 THE LIBRARY OF THE 
 
 APR l?^c:2
 
 66, Brook Street, London, W. 
 1867. 
 
 Messrs. Saunders^ Otley^ &' Co.'s 
 LIST OF NEW BOOKS AND 
 
 NEW EDITIONS. 
 
 HISTORY, BIOGRAPHY, etc. 
 
 In 2 vols, postSvo, £1 Is. 
 
 Personal Reminiscences of Eminent Men. 
 
 By CYRUS REDDING, 
 
 Author of ' Past Celebrities,' ' Fifty Years' Recollections, Literary 
 
 and Personal,' 'Memoirs of Thomas Campbell,' etc. 
 
 In 1 vol 8vo. 2l6. 
 
 Memoirs and Services of the late Lieut.-Gen. 
 Sir S. B. Ellis, K.C.B., &c., Royal Marines. 
 
 From his own Memoranda. Edited b}^ LADY FAuLJH. 
 
 ''The book has the rare merit of 
 being short, and it is homely and \m- 
 pretending like the author, who left 
 
 behind him in it.s pages the best pos- 
 sible example of what an officer of 
 marines shoxtldhe." -Saturday Rmeto.
 
 In 2 vols, post 8x0, 21s. 
 
 The American Crisis ; 
 
 Or, Pages from tlie Note Book of a State Agent during the 
 
 Civil War. 
 
 By Colonel JOHN LEWIS PEYTON, L.B., F.R.G.8., &c. 
 
 THE "ALABAMA." 
 
 Now ready, in 2 vols, post 8vo, Second Edition, 24s. 
 
 The Cruise of the "Alabama" and the "Sumter." 
 
 From the PRIVATE JOURNALS, &c., of CAPTAIN SEMMES, 
 C.S.N., AND OTHER OFFICERS. 
 
 With ILLUSTRATIONS, CORRESPONDENCE, &c. 
 Second Edition. 
 
 "They are useful less for the novelty of l 
 
 the information which they convey than , 
 
 for authenticating, summarizing, and me- I 
 thodizing numerous little histories that 
 
 have long since been notorious." — Times. ■. 
 
 "The conduct and courage of Captain , 
 
 Semmes in action were worthy of his cause ' 
 and of his reputation, hut the qualities by 
 
 which he will be hereafter memorable will • 
 
 rather be the judgment with which he exe- \ 
 
 cuted his plans. Wliether that peace for j 
 
 whicli Captain Semmes sighed during the i 
 lonely hours of his cruise comes soon or 
 
 late, tliis at least is certain, that the flag , 
 imder which the 'Alabama' cruised has con- 
 tributed a memorable episode to the naval 
 history of the world."— SoMrdui/ Rcvietc. 
 
 "A simple, straightforAvard, and most 
 
 interesting nan-ative of. a successfixl enter- I 
 
 prise, which must always hold a prominent I 
 
 place in the annals of naval warfare." — , 
 
 Press. I 
 
 "Captain Semmes' Journals will do ' 
 
 much not only to keep alive the fame of ' 
 
 the Alabama in our national records, but \ 
 
 to enable English men to appreciate the 
 character of her daring commander as a 
 true gentleman and patriot, as well as a 
 skilful and dashing sailor. The tale of the 
 gallant " Alabama " will not easily be for- 
 gotten in the memory of Englishmen."— 
 John Bull. 
 
 "We regard the volumes before us, 
 authentic as they may be deemed in the 
 soui'ce, as a very useful record of a very 
 memorable episode in naval warfare. "— 
 Globe. 
 
 "An authentic accoimt of the career of 
 Captain Semmes — at least so far as it has 
 been connected with the 'Alabama' and 
 ' Simiter,' — compiled from his private 
 journals and other papers, cannot fail to 
 be read with interest both by friend and 
 ioe."— Dispatch. 
 
 " The name of Captain Semmes has gone 
 forth into all lands wherever printed news 
 can penetrate or the tnmipet-tongue of 
 fame is heard. Henceforth the name of 
 Semmes is historic, and ''290 " is a channed 
 niunber." — Illustrated London News. 
 
 In 1 vol. post 8vo, with Portrait of the Alabama, 6s. 
 
 The Log of the Alabama and the Sumter : 
 
 Abridged from the Library Edition of " THE CRUISE OF THE 
 ALABAMA." 
 
 " This voliune will be read with great 
 interest. Written in a frank, manly, im- 
 aftected styla."— London Reiicio. 
 
 " The Alabama's raid upon the ocean 
 is presented in a moderate sized volume, 
 which will be a favourite one in the library 
 of a man of war." — Chnrcliman. 
 
 "In absorbing interest this volume is 
 
 not surpassed by any contemporaneous 
 publication. "—S'w«(?«2/ Times. 
 
 "We welcome this remarkable narra- 
 tive in its present handsome and conve- 
 nient form. It is abridged from the 
 library edition, but nothing essential is 
 omitted, and the circle of its piossessors 
 will now be greatly extended."— Dispafc?*. 
 
 A /so a Cheap Edition in boards, 2s.
 
 In 1 vol. post 8vo, Ss. fid 
 
 The War in America. 1863 — ^4- 
 
 By EDWARD POLLARD, 
 Late Editor of the " Richmond Examiner," now a Prisoner. 
 
 " The .nnthor has fciven ils the only 
 connected account -which vre possess of a 
 campaign remarkable for the numbers 
 of those who have perished in its battles." 
 — Chvrchman. 
 
 " Tlie details of the great conflict are 
 very instmctive." — Ohserver. 
 
 "" Till' volume contains the best con- 
 nected account yet published of the 
 Western campaigns from the invasion of 
 Jfarylaud and the battle of Gettysburg, 
 down to the last actions before Peters- 
 burg, and of Grant's, Sherman's, and 
 Bank's campaigns in the "West and South 
 West." — Header. 
 
 "Those who msh to have a bird's-eye 
 
 view of the past yeai-'s campaigns cannot 
 do better than peruse this volume."— 
 Dispatch. 
 
 "Mr. Pollard's volume taices a wide 
 scope. He writes, indeed chiefly of the 
 w^ar, but he writes as a civilian, and deals 
 with many political matters which had an 
 undoubted if an indirect effect oji the 
 campaigns. With all these subjects and 
 ver>- much more, Mr. Pollai'd's book ably 
 deals v{\t\\."— Standard. 
 
 " Of 3Ir. Pollard's style it may be said 
 that it is tolerably clear. As a summary 
 of events, however, this volume may be 
 found not entirely useless -or unaccept- 
 able."— /)a?7t/ News. 
 
 COMPLETION OF MR. ARNOLD'S DALHOUSIE ADMINISTRATION. 
 In 2 vols. 8vo, 15s. each. 
 
 The Marquis of Dalhousie's Adminis- 
 tration of British India. 
 
 By EDWIN ARNOLD, M.A., University College, Oxford. 
 Late Principal, Poonah College ; and Fellow of the University of 
 
 Bombay. 
 
 Contents of Vol. L 
 
 The Acquisition and Administration of the Punjaub. 
 
 Contents of Vol. IL 
 
 The Annexation of Pegu, Nagpore, and Oude, and a General 
 
 Review of Lord Dalhousie's Rule in India. 
 
 "To those who look with interest on 
 Indian affairs this work will doubtless 
 afford considerable gratification. Un- 
 doubtedly the period of Lord Dalliousie's 
 administration in India was a brilliant 
 one. " — Morning Advertiser. 
 
 "Of the work as a whole it would be 
 impossible to express any judgment 
 which was not highly favourable. It is 
 full of information ; it is almost every- 
 wliere guided by the calm and impartial 
 spirit of a triie historian ; its style is 
 always vigorous and sometimes brilliant. 
 It is indeed a timely and a valuable con- 
 tribution to the History of British India." 
 — Morn ing Star. 
 
 " Mr. Arnold does ample justice to the 
 
 giasp of Lord Dalhousie's mind, the dig- 
 nity of his character, and the generosity 
 of his heart : and the ' History' Avhicli 
 tells this strange conversion of scattered 
 barbarous, corrupt, and oppressed 
 heathen principalities into a Briti.sh Em- 
 pire, stands forth with all the splendid 
 vividness of an historical epic." — Daily 
 Tclegra.'ph. 
 
 "Mr. Arnold's work, however, while its 
 animated style can-ies the reader on, is a 
 valuaF)le contribution to the history of the 
 period with wliich it is concerned, and his 
 judgment of Lord Dalhousie's character, 
 as Avell as his public policy, seems to 
 have been formed with impartiality."—
 
 IVtiicateii, by permission, to tlie Eiarlit Kev. the Lord Bishop of Oxford. — In 
 1 voL Second and Cheaper Edition, post Sro.. wit 1 Portraits, Maps. 
 
 and UlTistrations. price ^s. cloth. 
 
 The Universities Mission to East Central Africa. 
 
 From its Commencanent to its Withdrawal from the Zambezi. 
 
 B>- the Rev. HENRY ROWLEY. 
 
 One of the Two Survivors of Bishop Mackenzie's Clerical 
 Staff. 
 '• His (Mr. E.owieyV'> T>iirp^«e is ap- martyrs did good service in Central 
 p>arently to vindicL;" 
 those by whom it 
 
 undertaken, and tu ^ -- : 
 
 cord of the efforts whiuk failed tu ob- I 
 T.-i-in a successfnl resnlt. Prohably he 
 -will not m.;: " '' " - 
 .-.pinion a;> : 
 
 teiupt. He L. _ 
 
 a nn.ndid narrative tuc gcniiinc iicrc^ 
 ism of Bishop Mackenzie apd his f ol- 
 |„ - - ! if heroism were the one . 
 
 t_ ".e in missionarie>, there i 
 
 vr -tie ca-a>e for complaint. 
 
 As it Lb, *c are rather reminded of ' 
 the criticisni, ' It is magnificent, but 
 it is not war." The missionaries 
 seem to have hnrlel themselves as 
 thoughtlessly agarnst the heathenism 
 of Africa as the L e went 
 
 in against the I. -cry at 
 
 Balaclava." — Satiii, . ^. 
 
 •■AH onr readers who have taken ] 
 any interest— nnd -^hich of them has j 
 not? — ^in the ^ " ' ^'" ' ii. j 
 
 or XR the n-. -h . 
 
 of Bishop M.-—^ . _-^ -a \ 
 
 point of reading this book, it wHl j 
 
 probably modify in many respects 
 
 the opinion:; " ' " -d j 
 
 aboat tiiat . -'I 
 
 terprise froi^ : ^ i'- 
 
 mentary information which Im aji that 
 
 has been hitherto in their hands. Mr. 
 
 Rowley is an excellent ' ^- 7 'e. 
 
 and direct, he tells u- ^t 
 
 we want to know, in ki:. ^ . . . h 
 
 nobody can mistake, wiiile iii.3 des- 
 criptions of natives and scenery show 
 
 that he is a Tn?i.n af acute and accu- 
 rate observation, with a strong feeling 
 
 for the pictare*|ue, and an unusual 
 
 power of commtmicating his impres- 
 sions. " — €r».ard ''cm. 
 
 " Those who look with the greatest 
 
 coldness on missionary efforts can 
 
 scarcely deny — ^if they will take the 
 
 pains to read this book — that Bishop 
 
 Mackenzie and his noble army of 
 
 Africa. A> 
 
 Mr. Eowley is 
 
 free from ti- rUt 
 
 and wearisome iteration which have 
 marred the value of several botiks of 
 ' *-■ ~- tm"el. The style is luanly, 
 ;nd unatfecte<l ; the author is 
 ~i and reticent about his own 
 icidevements, and writes with uni- 
 form good temper and forbearance. 
 The woodcuts, chiefly from Mr. Row- 
 ley's own sketches, form an attrac- 
 tive arljunct to the text." — Times. 
 
 '•■ Mr. Rowley's volume is an excel- 
 lent aceormt '^f a comer of the world 
 ■■ ' ' ' _cept from Dr. 
 
 ossed through 
 
 '• The volume is a readable and in- 
 
 terei»ttrcr one. Mr. Rowlev has told 
 - - - - - • Ig- 
 
 ; is 
 
 books. - 
 "Tot■ 
 
 -al 
 ::ce 
 the 
 
 4 thencgmii. 
 
 ■se who delight tr. hror of 
 
 luranc-e of 
 
 ;iDine, war. 
 —y^ .. ^L...■.L endeavoma \.-j 
 .savage out of his degrade*! condition 
 —of steadfast faith rising over every 
 obstacle, — this book will be deeply 
 interesting."— CrtA?r A TiiACs. 
 
 '•' Mr. Rowley has done excellent 
 service in writing this book. In tone 
 and spirit it rises superior to any- 
 thing of the sort with -which we are 
 accpainted ; and we shall be very 
 much mistaken if the ^ - -- - - "--^lat 
 has foimd favour on tL- the 
 
 African race through :.. ,:.;a- 
 
 tion-s of mere traveller.^ axid men of 
 the world, and the crude theories of 
 anthropologists and so-called " men 
 of science," does not receive its <fcd- 
 etus from the circulation of this intel- 
 ligent and undoubtedly truthful mis- 
 feook, "— Chwrchman,
 
 *• Written in a plain, .scholar- 
 like style, and bears the stamp of 
 high principle and intelligence. A 
 book so written could not fail to be 
 interesting, and it is interesting." — 
 Church Hevieic. 
 
 "It is impossible to pemse tliis 
 work without the deepest admiration 
 for the noble men who composed it 
 (the Mission) : their constancy, their 
 hopefulness, their unwearied laboui-, 
 and the cheerfulness with which they 
 lx)i-e the terrible trials to which they 
 were exposed, are beyond all praise." 
 — Standard. 
 
 '•' It is impossible to read this book 
 without a feeling of pride at belong- 
 ing to the nation which sent forth 
 such brave and generous men, and of 
 regret that such valuable lives should 
 have been lost in so hopeless a cause. 
 And yet, ;is Mi-. Rowley well says, 
 their lives have not been sqiiandered 
 in vain. The book which he has writ- 
 ten is peculiarly valuable at the pre- 
 sent moment, when there is a dispo- 
 sition in high places to maintain that 
 black is the colour of the devil, and 
 that every thing black is evil. That 
 Africa abound^ in wild beasts we 
 know — most savage countries do- 
 but that its inhabitants ai*e not aU 
 wild beasts, as some travellers would 
 have us believe, is more than proved 
 by the interesting story of the Uni- 
 versities IVIission to Centrid Africa. '"- 
 Pol/ JIo/l(ro:ette. 
 
 "In spite of the Siul details with 
 which it aboimds, the general impres- 
 sion which Mr. Ro%\iey's book leaves 
 upon the mind, is that mission work 
 
 amongst the African races is as hope- 
 ful as amongst the heathen of any 
 other country." — 21ission. Life. 
 
 " Mr. Rowleys work is chiefly a 
 stirring account of travel and camp 
 life, but it has the additional harm 
 which the high motives of those en- 
 gaged in it naturally affords. Tlic 
 many disasters, the famine, the sick- 
 ness, the fre<|uent deaths which befel 
 them -all are touchingly described; 
 while the patience and courage of the 
 whole company ai-e sufliciently e\-i- 
 dent"; the good and even beautiful 
 qualities which appear in many of the 
 natives receive full justice."' — Mission 
 Field. 
 
 "Besides the interest wliich must 
 attach to the plain narrative by an 
 eye-witness, of facts which we have 
 so often discussed, the volume is in 
 itself one of no ordinary merit. It is 
 by far the most interesting and read- 
 able book of missionarj' tai-vels which 
 has for a long time past met our eye. 
 Tlie genial sympathy of the writer 
 with aU nature, and more especially 
 with himian nature — the judicious 
 omission of the mere details of every 
 day routine, which makes most books 
 of travel so wearisome — and the 
 breadth of view and gentle spirit 
 wluch i^rvade every page — all con- 
 tribute to this end; and- it is alto- 
 gether so graphic, unpretending, and 
 natural, that at its close we can 
 scarce tell whether the skill of the 
 ■\vriter, or the tragic interest whi<-h 
 belongs to. its subject, lends it the 
 greater charm," —EccUsiastic. 
 
 In 1 vol. post 6vo, 3s. t)d. 
 
 The Right Hon. W. E. Gladstone, M.P., 
 
 A POLITICAL REVIEW. 
 By R. MASHEDER, B.A., Author of '" Dissent and Democracy. 
 
 lu '1 vols, post 8vo, "21 >. 
 
 The Soldier of Three Queens. 
 
 A Xarnitivc of Personal Adventure. 
 By CAPTAIN HENDERSON.
 
 In 1 vol. 8vo. Ife. 
 
 The History of the Cotton Famine, 
 
 FROM THE FALL OF SUMTER TO THE PASSING OF 
 
 THE PUBLIC WORKS ACT. 
 
 By R. ARTHUR ARNOLD. 
 
 "Mr. Arnold'- '"^■''~' -^ to* ^"^ ~"^'" -^r-r'n 
 facts and fifror 
 lax style, and 
 
 nent importance . ...v .. ,;-e- ■.— .^^-^1 
 with interest." — T'„vhcs. 
 
 " The story of the cotton famine, as told 
 T)y Mr. Arnold, has all the interest of a 
 romance ; the statistics, the figures, the 
 reports of Mr. FamaJl. the weekly returns 
 
 nf-i'- P 
 
 1 f ,~ ., 
 
 ""Mans, are all so Tna.ny 
 
 til.' 
 
 
 -lie st<iry. The book 
 
 ih 
 
 
 a-efallv. and with a 
 
 faaiLcar; 
 
 
 --' ■• -:-tle the 
 
 author t 
 
 
 - L. 
 
 " It tr 
 
 
 I TnaTi- 
 
 ner-^^:- 
 
 
 . _ ... meet a 
 
 mir: _ . 
 
 
 :iie prospects 
 
 of-. r 
 
 - ;-. 
 
 _ iarkmed." — 
 
 Ob>>rr,rr. 
 
 
 
 •* Mr. Arnold has pnt together all the 
 facts with lucid mimitenfiSB, and enabled 
 
 his readers to recall all the details of a 
 stmg^e which reflected hoootir on Bri- 
 tish administration." — Spectator. 
 
 " We acknowledge the substantial merits 
 of Mr. Arnold's work. He disensses with 
 faimes-. trith re—per. and ^e think with 
 si: - - question 
 
 w - contro- 
 
 Ti ^ — Review. 
 
 '•We cunja-atuiatc Ml. Ariiuld on his 
 having added a very valuable contribution 
 
 i: - 
 
 the merit of Q.. i 
 
 partiality. I: 
 
 and will always ....^.^^ ^ ....... ..^. _ ,, „ uf 
 
 reference with regard to the iuguiy inte- 
 resting events which it records."— fieraZd. 
 
 Also a NeiiJ a}id Cheaper Edition, i vol. post 2>vo., 5J". 6d. 
 
 *• Contains much valuable information." 
 
 '-_ A valuable and compre.henmve -work." 
 
 — L'lspaich. 
 '*Iheae g' nfhgirfnr records are most in- 
 
 teresting, exhibiting as tbey >1" the un- 
 
 paxaEed' "' '- ** " ' ' ^-'^ 
 
 proceed. 
 
 timethi - ,-.- 
 
 tug calaiE:ry . — uosc r a r. 
 
 In 1 voL post Svo, Second Edition, 6s. 
 
 The Danes in Camp : 
 
 LETTERS FROM SONDERBORG. 
 By the Honourable AUBERON HERBERT. 
 
 thia is mingled with a good hiunour and 
 moderation that win our confidaiee and 
 deserve our respect. " — DaiiLy News. 
 
 - - - --_lv 
 
 A 
 
 A 
 
 admirati' n wiu.-ji. Xi*; exja-esses lor uie 
 
 inhabitants of the little kingdom."— 
 
 "Th^ ledicated 
 
 to the '^ shDow- 
 
 "This ■ ■ " -■" 
 cause it 
 Mr. He- 
 
 ■■— — -^"ok, be- 
 ^ tobe. 
 --) read. 
 
 t. 
 
 
 h^ 
 
 
 
 . ..ac, .:-. 
 
 ii-. 
 
 w 
 
 ise he 
 
 ■v-aiaelL 
 
 There '.. 
 
 VUIU.U15 pas- 
 
 sages."— 
 
 "The 
 
 id -rrai-Rfiiny 
 
 written 
 dents ai. 
 
 
 an air 
 
 
 presses iin: reauer w:uu uit; 
 
 that they contain only the tnrth ; and all ; aicenlion."— iSeocie/-.
 
 Cheap Edition, in 1 vol. post Svo, Is. 6d. 
 
 The Davenport Brothers : 
 
 A BIOGRAPHY OF IR.\ EFLA.STUS DAVENPORT AND 
 WILLIAM HENRY DAVENPORT, commonly kno^^-n 
 ■as the ''BROTHERS DAVENPORT." 
 With an Account of Eleven Years of Preternatural Pheno- 
 mena and Extraordinarv' Physical and Psychical 
 Manifestations. 
 By T. L. NICHOLS, M.D., 
 Author of " Forty- Years in America," »i:c. 
 
 -I published is precis-. ' - \vanted. 
 
 i Short, simple, and l ; : ending 
 
 u; - j to exj^Lain, harilly, i: --ingtb? 
 
 pc - I question as to wi ticai is 
 
 possible : as fair a i. n l»y a 
 
 believer oyalA \os^\ — vohnn? 
 
 commends itself to all N-i-i can pos- 
 sibly find it .tnll. •'— 5f« n< ^^ ^7. 
 
 but iL could n.'i kiv 
 better."— fft-mW. 
 "The book ^hich 
 
 bct 
 Dr. 
 
 I onr 
 
 : task, 
 
 n performed 
 
 yichols has 
 
 In 1 larue vol. Svo, the beoond Editiuu, price 21s^. 
 
 Australian Explorations. 
 
 JOHN McDOUALL STUART'S JOURNALS OF EXPLO- 
 R.-\TIONS IN AUSTR.\LIA from 1S5S to 1S62. 
 
 Edited by WILLIAM HARDMAN, M.A., F.R.G.S., &c 
 
 Illustrated with a Portrait of the author, and 12 page Engra\-ings 
 
 on Wood, drawn by George French .\ngas, from Sketches 
 
 taken during the Expedition, and accompanied by a 
 
 carefully-prepared Map of the Explorer s Route across 
 
 the entire Continent 
 
 "A very laipL^ and \-aluable addition to 
 our gec^;;raphi«d knowledge of Australia. " 
 — Observer. 
 
 "Worthy of being ranked amongst the 
 most important in the History of Austra- 
 lian disoo\-ery."— ifomiHy Adnrtistr. 
 
 "To dilate on the \-alue of the work to 
 the very large number who are directly 
 or indirectly interested in Australian 
 progress is superfluous." — DlswuXciK. 
 
 '*It is 
 strougesT 
 given '111 
 
 ing his life so lightly so that his ^itfy 
 mic^t be d^Tie.*— txT-v 
 
 " :u int<a«sting 
 ir. , ial charm as 
 
 liseoverer has 
 
 lix 
 seii: 
 
 carc 
 
 ap- 
 A 
 
 . the Kxik t<> the 
 .ose who widi to 
 of the fatore of 
 
 :^c i-vpr;l:t:oT: has 
 
 SClf-LiUdU-UOIl J.I lU; . 
 
 Oiiip- 
 
 :iicx:
 
 In 2 vols, post 8vo. with an lutroduction and Appendices, 21s. 
 
 Secret History of a Polish Insurrection 
 
 By H. SUTHERLAND EDWARDS, 
 Late Special Correspondent of the Times in Poland. 
 
 In 2 vols, post 8vo, with Portrait, 21s. 
 
 Belle Boyd in Camp and Prison. 
 
 Written by HERSELF. 
 With an IxNTRODUCTION by a FRIEND OF THE SOUTH. 
 
 "Her memoirs are veiy ably and graphi- 
 cally written. They are useful so fur as 
 they exemiilify the ditfereuee between 
 Americau and English society." — Morning 
 Post. 
 
 " * BcUc Build m Camp and Prison' is 
 oue of those books into which the Avliole 
 soul and siiirit of the writer has evidently 
 liassed — which arc too earnest for artistic 
 i:onstrnctiou, too real and heartfelt either 
 for self concealment or self display."— 
 Satiirdan Jicvicv:. 
 
 "To say that these volumes are inte- 
 resting woidd be far short of the trath. 
 They ai-e perfectly, thrilling, and we 
 strongly recommend all our readers 
 whichever side they take of the contro- 
 versy, to get them and judge for them- 
 selves. " — Joh n Bull. 
 
 " Linked for ever with the story of that 
 fatal American war is the name of Belle 
 JBoyd, and this book, written by herself, 
 possesses such deep interest of wonder 
 and truth, that it cannot fail of general 
 acceptance and popularity. Belle Boyd 
 in Camp and Prison is the book of the 
 season." — Court Circular. 
 
 " Belle Boyd's book will be read with 
 interest, and will no doubt make a great 
 sensation."— OJ)Scn-fr. 
 
 " Tlie contents of these volumes are 
 extremely interesting. " — Reader. 
 
 "It is pleasantly and on the whole 
 modestly written." — Index. 
 
 "Belle Boyd's adventures surpass the 
 best contrived fictions of our most popu- 
 lar writers." — Morning Advertiser. 
 
 "Will be read with avidity." — Sunday 
 Times. 
 
 "Full of vi\'id glimpses of the late 
 war." — Glohe. 
 
 "In these volumes wo Jiave from her 
 own pen the stoiy of her daring deeds, her 
 hairbre.Tdth escapes and her luinierited 
 sufferings. A nairative of extreme in- 
 terest, all the more attractive because 
 natural and imaftected." — London Fieview. 
 
 "The book is one which is certain to 
 obtain popularity, and to be speedily ui 
 
 the hands of most readers.' —Churchman. 
 
 " Possesses high claims to attention." — 
 Literary Gazette. 
 
 ' ' The book is undoubtedly a'reraai'ka- 
 ble oue." — Dispatch. 
 
 "Miss Belle Boyd (now Mrs. Hardiugc) 
 may fairly claim a niche beside those 
 curlier heroines ; having in one resjiect 
 even a better right to the name of warrior 
 than any of them, since she actually nc- 
 ceived a regular commission as Cajitain 
 in the Confederate Army, and was 
 attached to Stonewall Jackson's staff as 
 one of liis aides-de-camp." — Evening 
 Standard. 
 
 " The story of the adventures, misfor- 
 tuEcs, imprisonments, and pei-secutions of 
 Mrs. Hardinge, better known as Belle 
 Boyd, will do much to relieve the Fcderal.s 
 of the stigma under which they ha\ c been 
 labouring of treating their prisoners with 
 harshness and brutality." — Post. 
 
 "Belle Boyd may well be contented 
 with the recollection that in the fearful 
 struggle which is now terminated she 
 played no inglorious part." — Morning 
 Herald. 
 
 " Doubly attractive, not only as telling 
 a talc of deeds of daring skilfully exe- 
 cuted, and dangers and hardships cou- 
 rageously confronted and endured, far 
 surpassing in interest the wildest imagi- 
 nation of the sensation novelist." — Stan- 
 dard. 
 
 "Modestly and simply written and wc 
 think our readers will rise from the peru- 
 sal with a true sympathy for its fair 
 wri ter. ' ' — Gtia rdia a . 
 
 "The name of Belle Boyd is well known 
 to all who took an interest in the late 
 civil war in America." — London Review. 
 
 " There arc few persons conversant 
 with the American correspondence of our 
 leading Joiunals during the late awful 
 struggle of the South against, the North, 
 to whom the name of Belle Boyd, the 
 Rebel Spy, is not kuown." — Yotinj Eng- 
 lishicovia7i.
 
 THEOLOGY. 
 
 Vol. III. 8vo, completing the work, 21s. 
 
 The History of the Church of England, 
 
 From the DEATH OF ELIZABETH to the PRESENT TIME 
 By the Rev. GEORGE G. PERRY, M.A. 
 
 Rector of Waddington, late Fellow and Tutor of Lincoln College* 
 
 Oxford. 
 
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 10 
 
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 12 
 
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 PART I. MAN. 
 
 "Mr.s. Gatly ha.s li^rc lavoured the 
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 la Foolscap Svo, cloth, i.<. lid. 
 
 PART 11. ANIMALS. 
 
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 containing much that is interesting and 
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 14 
 
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 The Little Kingdom, or the Servants of the 
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 Translated from the French. 
 
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 In 1 vol. 8vo, half bound, £2 5s. 
 
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 15 
 
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 i6 
 
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 7 
 
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 i8 
 
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 19 
 
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 20 
 
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 liossesses a literary inerit which will 
 stand a comparison w ith almost ai)y work 
 of the day. Wennhrsitatingly reeonunend 
 the book to our readeis, and .shall be glad 
 agahi to encounter its author in a lield 
 in which he has already acquitted himself 
 so well, and in which we are prepared to 
 anticipate for him furthor and more 
 signal triumphs."— Nin((/rti/ Tones. 
 
 "We have here a powerfully written 
 tale. There is no overcroAvdiug of the 
 canvass, the secondaiy figiu-es come in 
 as mere accessories to three principal ac- 
 tors in the terrible drama. The mixture 
 of good cUid evil in ' Percy Talbot ' is well 
 chosen." — Joint Bull. 
 
 " ' Percy Talbot' is a novel that will, we 
 feel certain, (ind many waini admirers. 
 Mr. Graham has imquestionablc talents 
 for making a successful novel-writer, and 
 produces qiute a dramatic cftect in 
 his descriptive passages. Some of his 
 characters, too, are excellent, both as to 
 
 the conception and carrying out, alt<j- 
 gethcr it is a story tliat Will carry away 
 most readers by its somewhat impetuous 
 style and niteresting well-sustained plot." 
 — Obsirci r. 
 
 ' • Written with a considerable knowledge 
 of character. Tlie book has great juid 
 growuig interest, and the attention of the 
 reader is rivetted as he turns over the 
 ] )ages. The dialogue throughout the book 
 is exeeediugly well done, and it cannot 
 be doubted that the novel will be a great 
 favourite at all the libraries, and indeed 
 wherevei- it is read." — Morninfi Star. 
 
 "The style is vigorous and well sus- 
 tained throughout. The principles of this 
 book are unex'ceptionable, and its literary 
 execution very sati.sfactoiy."— ,4^ftcik»7?7H. 
 
 " Written in a pleasant style, and witli 
 the best intentions. The author never 
 sins against the laws of good mamiers, 
 and he is evidently well acciuainted with 
 the usages of society. ELc appeai-s to be 
 actuated by strong but kindly feelings, 
 ami the book bears the impress of genuine 
 earnestness. It is one which may be 
 safely recommended to families, and it is 
 likely to become a faAouritc with an 
 immense clas«5. "—Lon(?o?i Eevicic.
 
 21 
 
 In 1 vol. post 8vo, 10s. 6d. 
 
 The Netting Hill Mystery. 
 
 Compiled by CHARLES FELIX, 
 Author of *' Velvet Lawn," etc. 
 
 " ihK^li ingenuity is displayed in fram- 
 ing such of the "circumstances as may 
 ci-pdibly Ite suiiposcd to have actually 
 existed." — Header. 
 
 "The chain of evidence is traced 
 throughout with great minuteness, and 
 the whole narrative is well calculated to 
 awaken and sustain the interest of the 
 ro.{ii\fr."— Observer. 
 
 "This book is a singular and not wholly 
 unsuccessful attempt to enlist the atten- 
 tion of the render Ly the simple yet subtle 
 analysis of crime. In doing so .Mr. Felix 
 remind.s us, not unfavourably, of some of 
 the prose writings of Edgar Poe. It is a 
 strange story strangely told." — Chvrchmav. 
 
 "We have seldom read anything more 
 ingenious than the manner in which the 
 circumstantial detail of the crime or 
 crimes .suiiposed to form *tlie Notting 
 
 Hill Mystery are narrated. Few more 
 thoroughly mysterious, remarkable, and, 
 we may add, more tantalising works have 
 ever issued from the press." — Sunday 
 Times. 
 
 " Among narratives of the mysterious, 
 but circumstantial order, this is entitlecl 
 to high rank." — Dispatch. 
 
 "To all whom a cliaiu of intricate and 
 peculiar evidence will interest we recom- 
 mend this book, which surpasses anything 
 in the same style we have met since Rdgar 
 Poe presented the world witli his tales of 
 the imagination." — Court Circular. 
 
 "It is a good specimen of the sensa- 
 tional story,^)f whi(;h the entire interest 
 consists, not in the characters — which are 
 scarcely indicated — but in the strangenes.s 
 of the incidents and the complication ot 
 the -plot."— Giuirdian. 
 
 in 3 voLs. post 8vo. 
 
 Aubrey Court, 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 By FRANK LYFIELD. 
 
 " There .are the makings of a good story 
 in • Aubrey Court.'"— Jo7«i BuU. 
 
 ' Wlioever wishes to pass an .agreeable 
 nour or two, under the influence of light 
 reading, free from violent spasmodic situa- 
 tions, may gratify his taste very largely 
 by taking up Mi-. Lyfield's clever speci- 
 men of fiction. Not only will pleasant 
 writing be met with, but a plot will be 
 discovered which preserves its unities 
 throughout and terminates, as it had 
 proceeded, very naturally. We know not 
 whether ' Aubrey Court ' is a first speci- 
 men of authorship ; but if it be so, it 
 gives not a few indications of intelligence 
 and cleverness which may speedily be 
 turned to considerable advantage." — Bell's 
 Messenger. 
 
 " Too much praise cannot be awarded 
 to the author of 'Aubrey Court' for the 
 excessive care and attention he has shown 
 in working out his plot. The story never 
 Hags from beginning to end ; and if this be 
 
 the first novel from Mr. Lyfield's pen, the 
 public may look forward to even a greater 
 treat when next he comes before them." 
 — Morniiiff Post. 
 
 "We have read cvei-y page of it with 
 pleasure. It is a healthy, pure, interest- 
 ing novel, conveying pleas.ant scenes of 
 life at home and abroad, in good, plain, 
 idiomatic English ; and to say thus much 
 is to raise 'Aubrey Court' to a height 
 immeasux'ably above that occupied by the 
 large majority of English works of fiction. ' 
 — HvMiknj Tillies. 
 
 "The moral tone of the book is tm- 
 impeachable. ' Aubrey Court ' is of more 
 than average meYiV—Clnirclirixcm. 
 
 "The ch.aracters are so skilfully drawn, 
 i .and the style is at once so lively and so 
 j genial, tliat the tale cannot fail to be 
 read with pleasure by such as possess 
 I healthy literary taste, and recognise the 
 I conscientiousness with which the author 
 j strives to copy n^\\\ve."—I)i!i'patcli.
 
 In 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 
 Mac aria. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By AUGUSTA J. EVANS, 
 
 Author of "Beulah," &c. 
 
 ' The tone is high, the language chaste 
 and pure, the characters noble, and the 
 purpose laudable."— Be Zfs Messenger. 
 
 " The work is written with much abi- 
 lity, and striking incidents follow each 
 other in such rapid succession that the 
 interest is sustained throughout." — 
 Morning Advertiser. 
 
 " In many respects the book is pleasing 
 and the style is often forcible, and the 
 moral tone is unobjecti' •nable." — Observer 
 
 " Written in an earnest and enthusiastic 
 tone. As another evidence of the strong 
 emotions which animate the hearts of the 
 women of the South, and which of them- 
 selves are sufficient to proclaim the 
 deathless endurance of the struggle for 
 Southern independence, * Macaria' has 
 an interest peculiarly its own." — Sitn. 
 
 " Mnch that is really noble and excel- 
 lent. The picture drawn by >iis3 E\'ans 
 
 of the heroic deeds, the self-abnegation, 
 of man and woman in the struggle, cannot 
 but excite our admiration, and there is 
 much power of actual description, espe- 
 cially in her account of the little vessel 
 which runs the blockade into Mobile." — 
 Globe. 
 
 " The author's heart is evidently in her 
 work, and many portions of it are marked 
 by an eloquent earnestness which cannot 
 fail to enlist the sympathy of her readers. 
 No slight amount of artistic feeling also 
 is displayed in it. " — Dispatch. 
 
 " ' Macaria' is a remarkable book, and 
 one of undeniable power; full of the 
 impulsive, fiery, demonstrative spirit of 
 the Southern States. Passages of real 
 pathos and sublimity abound in it. The 
 book gives a vivid "picture of the self- 
 sacrifice and patriotic devotion which 
 animate the Confederacy."— Owardian. 
 
 In 3 vols., post 8vo. 
 
 Adventures of an Arcot Rupee. 
 
 By Major Charles F. Kirby, Retired List Madras Army. 
 
 In 3 vols, post Svo. 
 
 The House of Rochfort. 
 
 A NOVEL, 
 
 By W. Platt, author of Angelo Lyons," " Betty Westminster." 
 
 In 3 vols, post 8vo., £1 lis. 6d. 
 
 Briars and Thorns. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By BLANCHE MARRYATT. 
 
 "We can conscientiously congratu- 
 late Miss Marrj-att on having -n-ritten 
 this stoiy, and predict for her great 
 future success." — Obsai-er. 
 
 " Miss Blanche Marryatt possesses 
 the rarest gift in woman — that of 
 viewing tilings through the mediiira 
 of her intellect and reason, and not 
 through the mists of feminine feelings 
 
 and passions." — Press and St. James's 
 Chronicle. 
 
 " This lady is endowed with consi- 
 derable creative talent." — Beirs Mes- 
 senger. 
 
 '•'A most entert^.ining novel."-- Lon- 
 don Rexieic. 
 
 '•'The tale is both spiritedly written, 
 and interesting."— i>i,spafc^.
 
 In 2 vols, post 8vo, 
 
 Uncle Angus. 
 
 A NOVEL. 
 
 By MARY S. G. NICHOLS. 
 
 Author of " Uncle John," " Agnes Morris," &c. 
 
 "Written in a kindly pleasant tone, 
 the characters are natural and well 
 drawn, and upon the whole there Ls much 
 to praise and little to find fault with, and 
 it is a book that may with confidence be 
 placed in the hands of youthful readers." 
 — Observer. 
 
 "A very pleasant, genial, and clever 
 story. We must leave our readers to 
 l>ecome acquainted with it themselves, 
 quite sure that they will not repent the 
 trouble. " — DispoXch. 
 
 "Genial, clever, and interesting." — 
 BeWs Messenger. 
 
 " The chief merit of this novel lies in 
 the delicate perception of character dis- 
 Ijlayed by the author, and in the skill 
 with which the incidents of the story are 
 
 made to develope the peculiarities of the 
 actors. A book which is very charming 
 indeed." — Morning Post. 
 
 *' Glimpses of feeling and indications of 
 character which show what the •tvriter 
 might do." — Globe. 
 
 " A decidedly amusing noveL" — Reader. 
 
 ** A readable and a pleasant book." — 
 Sunday Times. 
 
 "'Uncle Angus' will be read with 
 pleasure. Mrs. Nichols evidently knows 
 what she is about in novel- writing, and 
 very cleverly contrives to make a good 
 story out of simple materials. There is a 
 great deal of clever portraiture inthebook." 
 " ' Uncle Angus ' has great interest, and 
 will doubless be favourably thought of 
 by all by whom it is read." — ,Stor. 
 
 In 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 
 The Wife's Peril. 
 
 A ROMANCE. 
 
 By J. L LOCKHART. 
 
 In 3 vols, post 8vo. 
 
 Idols of Clay. 
 
 A SOVEL. 
 
 By Mrs. GORDON SMYTHIES, Author of '^ The Jilt," 
 " True to the Last," &c. 
 
 "It will find numerous admirers." 
 — Observe)'. 
 
 "A book tliat will arrest and rivet 
 
 the attention."— Prm and St. James's 
 
 Chronicle. 
 
 ^ " ilrs. Gordon Sm}-thie3 has indeed 
 
 given us sensational fare." -John Bit 1 1 
 
 " Mrs. Gordon Smythies ha."? been 
 very felicitous in the choice of a sub- 
 ject for her new novel." — San. 
 
 " Lovers of mysterioiL? and exciting 
 incident -will doubtless bestow on the 
 tale warm approval.' — Dispatch. 
 
 " Mrs. Gordon Smj-thies has given 
 us a richfea-st of startling sensations." 
 — London Revie<r. 
 
 " There are thousands who will rea<l 
 * Idols of Clay' with intense interest." 
 Weekly Times.
 
 24 
 
 TALES, ETC. 
 
 Foolscap 8vo, with Illustrations, 2s. 6d. 
 
 Barefooted Birdie. 
 
 A SIMPLE TALE. 
 
 By T. OT. 
 
 Edited by CHARLES FELIX, Author of "Velvet Lawn," &c. 
 
 ♦'We cannot recommend a better pre- 
 sent than ' Barefooted Birdie,' a simple 
 tale for Christmas."— ./o7*h EuU. 
 
 " We can give this tale our veiy highest 
 )iraise." — Church RevieuK 
 
 " The whole story is like a gleam of 
 bright sunshine and summer weather just 
 stealing in upon the cold fogs and winds 
 of Christmas, and telling of brighter days 
 to come in spring and summer, and of 
 brighter seasons still in the far-otf golden 
 land, wlipre ' they need no candle nor 
 litcht of the sun,'' to which ' Birdie' and 
 her little brother Steevie won their happy 
 way." — Stan (lard. 
 
 " It is a stoiy such as all little people 
 who rejoice in a book at the chimney 
 comer will find just to their heart's con- 
 tent, and in which older and graver 
 readers will find many a toudi of true 
 poetrj' and pathos. ' Birdie' will be read 
 by many, and must please all who are 
 worth pleasing and care to be pleased. 
 We have had nothing so good since 
 Andersen's ' Little Match Girl,' of whom 
 ' Birdie ' reminds us. " — Herald. 
 
 " Full of true, hearty, Chri.stian feeling, 
 thoroughly sound and healthy in tone, and 
 altogether a book which we can most cor- 
 diallv recommend."— C'/ih/t/j rf State Rev. 
 
 Also a NiEW EDITION, i Vol. 4to, 
 JV/f/i Eight fitU-pagc Eno;ravings. 
 
 In post 4to, 7^. ♦5(1., with numerous Illustrations by E. Fronient. 
 
 The Princess Usee. 
 
 A Fair>- Legend. 
 
 In 1 vol. post 4to, with Eisrht full-page Engi-avings, by A. WrT:c.\yD. 
 
 The History of Prince Perrypets. 
 
 A FAIRY TALE. 
 
 By A. KNATCHBULL HUGESSEN. 
 
 In 1 vol. fop. Svo. 
 
 Great Grandmama's Workbox. 
 
 A BOOK OF FAIRY TALES. 
 
 By Mrs. LUSHINGTON.
 
 25 
 
 In 1 vol. post S\'o, bcvellc'l edges, 6s., cloth. 
 
 The Staff Surgeon ; 
 
 Or, LIFE IN ENGLAND AND CANADA. 
 A Story. By E. S. T. 
 
 " A pretty, iiitercstiug storj', pleasantly 
 tuld, and distinguished by a quiet gi-ace. 
 It is in another sense a channiiig book, 
 delightful to look at, to read or to touch." 
 — Cnyirt Circulnr. 
 
 "The tale Ls fluently written, and con- 
 tains some pleasant descriptive passages." 
 —Dispakh. 
 
 " rieasantly and genially written ; and 
 
 scattered through various parts of th<- 
 narrative arc to be found some truthful 
 and life-like descriptions of scenes lx»th 
 in this country and in Canada." — Ohserrrr. 
 "A thoroughly readable novel. The 
 story is highly interesting, and sonu; of 
 the chaiactei-s exceedingly well drawn."— 
 Star. 
 
 In 2 vols, jiost 8vo. 
 
 The Young Earl. 
 
 A STORY. 
 
 By E. HAWTREY. 
 
 fn 1 vol. post .'5VO.; 10s. 6(.l., bevelled board.? 
 
 Meta's Letters. 
 
 A TALE. 
 
 By Mrs. EX SELL, 
 
 Author of " The Pastor's Famiiv." 
 
 lu 1 vol. post >vu, clcyaiitiy bound, 7 a. tiJ. 
 
 Tales at the Outspan ; 
 
 Or, Adventures in ihe Wild Regions of Southern Africa. 
 
 By CAPTAIN A. W. DRAYSOX, 
 
 Author of " Sporting Scenes in South Africa, &C. 
 
 New and Cheaper Edition, 
 
 Illustrated with numerous Woodcuts. 
 
 " To read about adventures with wiM 
 beasts is always pleasant ; in fact, there- 
 is an idea in the youthful mind that 
 lions and tigers were created specially to 
 fiirntsh material for exciting stories, and 
 in very truth Captain Drayson gives us 
 adventure enough and tells us as much 
 in one volume aS we have a right to look 
 for, alxjut lions and leopards, elepliants 
 and buffaloes, not to speak of those more 
 savage animals called Kattirs." — Ilriald. 
 
 ' * * Tales at the Outspan' will ^tc found 
 an admirable Gift JJook.— The binding is 
 sorirh, the illustrations are so very good, 
 and above all the tales are so enthralling, 
 that everj' reader, be he man or boy, will 
 
 delight in the volume." — Stundani 
 
 " We are happy to sec that this voliimr 
 has reached a second edition. It is ;i 
 boy's book of the very best kind, a bonk 
 of adventure, peril, and excitement, pf-r- 
 vaded by a most healthful flavoui- of 
 exertion, and entei-prise, and self denial." 
 —Spectator. 
 
 "Among the most pleasant books that 
 have been written on South African ad- 
 venture is this ■ by Captain Diayson, 
 inasmuch as it is not a mere record ol 
 wild bcasl butchery, but describes stir- 
 ring combats witli these by no means 
 contemptible foes, and tlie savage nati^t 
 tiihes. "—Dispatch .
 
 26 
 
 In 1 vol. small 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
 
 Life's Paths. 
 
 A TALE OF OUR OWN DAY. 
 
 By the Author of " Gentle Influence," " Amy's Trials," &c. 
 With Frontispiece. 
 
 " Wc seldom remember coming across 
 a story with less "sensation" in it, and 
 yet so really interesting. Some very 
 valuable lessons are taught in an emi- 
 nently natural manner. The different 
 characters are very well drawn. We 
 susiiect several are studies from real 
 life." — Church Review. 
 
 •"Life's Paths' may be safely recom- 
 
 mended, and that which it professes to 
 aim at it successfully works out, and that 
 is no slight thing to say of any book in 
 these days. " — Churchman. 
 
 "A well intcntioned, conscientiously 
 VTitten book, wherein it is impossible to 
 find anything objectionable." — Mrnfj.Post. 
 
 "The tale is pleasing and rcliucd."— 
 Glohe. 
 
 In 1 vol., post 8vo, 10s. tJd. 
 
 Tangles and Tales. 
 
 Being the RECORD OF A TWELVEMONTH'S IMBROGLIO. 
 By E. C. MOGRIDGE. 
 
 " We have shown that Mr. Mogridge 
 knows how to tell a good storj* cleverly." 
 — John Bull. 
 
 "Written in a light and pleasant style. 
 Some of the tales have a romantic, others 
 somewhat of a tragic interest, and a fair 
 proportion of them have incidents of love 
 and mystery very gracefully interwoven 
 in the narrative."— Ofescjver. 
 
 Mr. Mogridge possesses all the talent 
 necessary to eliminate a plot, with not a 
 little ai>tness of description, no small 
 power of observation, and a real Sense of 
 humour, as his volume sufficiently proves." 
 — Literary Gazette. 
 
 " It is highly to be praised for the 
 healthy tone it manifests."— BeW's Men- 
 scngrr. 
 
 "This pleasant volume of 'Tales' is 
 by Mr. Mogridge, a son of 'Old Hum- 
 phrey,' whose useful and simple duode- 
 
 cimo volumes are so common in the pack 
 of the Diocesan book-hawker, and are so 
 appreciated by the pui'chasers from it 
 >; ft * Some of these tales arc of far 
 more than average merit, and they are all 
 of them veiy readable ; and anyone who 
 wants a chatty, soothing story-book can- 
 not do better than invest in 'Tangles 
 and Tales.' "—Churchman. 
 
 "As the scene of several is laid in 
 foreign parts, a reasonable variety is se- 
 cured to the characters and their sur- 
 roundings."— LoHrfo/i Review. 
 
 " The writer posseses no slight powers 
 of obseiTation, and his descriptive pas- 
 sages give to the mind something of the 
 same efl'ect as the sight of a carefuUy- 
 dra^\^l picture. Wc ha\c derived great 
 pleasm-e from the perusal of 'Tangles 
 and Tales.' "—Puhlic Opinion.
 
 27 
 
 POETRY. 
 
 Til 1 vol. post Svo., 10s. 6d. Third edition, revised. 
 
 The Greek Pastoral Poets. 
 
 TransUitcd and Edited by Dr. M. J. CHAPMAN 
 
 In 1 vol. po-st 8vo., 10s. 6d. 
 
 Hebrew Idylls and Dramas. 
 
 By Dr. M. J. CHAPMAN. 
 Oiiginally published in " Frazer's Magazine." 
 
 I'ostlto., 7s. 6d.,with Nine Page Illustrations. 
 
 The Maiden of the Iceberg. 
 
 A TALE, IN VERSE. 
 By SELINA GAVE, 
 
 Author of '' Ivon,"' &c. 
 
 In 1 vol. Foolscap 8vo., 3s 6d. 
 
 Jersey Legends; 
 
 In VERSE. 
 By THOMAS WILLIAMS. 
 
 In 1 vol. post Svo, bevelled edges, 6s. 
 
 Arno's Waters ; 
 
 AND OTHER POEMS. 
 By FRANCES JANE FORSAYTH.
 
 28 
 
 In 1 vol., fcap. 8vo, 2>s. 6d. 
 
 The Last Crusader 
 
 A POEM. 
 In Four Cantos. 
 
 In Foolscap 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 The Alchymist : 
 
 PARABLES IN RHYME. 
 By Capt. C N. TUCKER, late Bengal Cavalry. 
 
 "Much above the average of little I gross faults of any kind." — Spectator. 
 books of this class, for it is free fyom | 
 
 RECENTLT PUBLISHED. 
 
 ARNOLD— THE MARQUESS OF DALHOU- 
 
 .SIES ADMIXI8TRATI0X OF BPvITIHH INDIA. By EDWIN 
 APvNOLD, M.A., late Principal of Poona College, and Fellow of the 
 Cuiversity of Bombay. Vol. 1., containing the Acquisition and 
 Administration of the Punjab. 8vo, 15s. 
 
 BROMLEY— A WOMAN'S WANDERINGS 
 
 IN THE WESTERN WORLD. A Series of Letters addressed to 
 Sir Fitzroy Kelly, M.P. By his Daughter, Mrs. BROMLEY. 1 vol., 
 post 8vo, with Illustrations. 10s. Gd. 
 
 DENISON— REMARKS ON ESSAYS AND Re- 
 views. By Sir WILLLA3I DENISON, K.C.B., F.R.S., F.A.S., 
 Colonel Royal Engineers. Svo, Is. 6d. 
 
 FAITH AND PEACE, 
 
 Being Answers to Essays and Reviews. By Several Writers, with 
 a Preface by the Venerable Archdeacon Denison. 1 vol., Svo, 12s. 
 
 FONBLANQUE— NIPHON AND PE-CHE-LI; 
 
 Or, Two Years in Japan and Northern China. By EDWARD 
 BARRINGTON DE FONBLANQUE, Assistant Commissary-Gene- 
 ral. 1 vol. Svo. with Illustrations, 21 a.
 
 29 
 
 GODKIN— EDUCATION IN IRELAND. 
 
 Its History, Institutions, Systems, Statistics, and Progress, from the 
 Earliest Times to the Present. By JAMES GODKIN. 8vo, 7s, Gd. 
 
 HANDBOOK OF TURNING, 
 
 Containing Instructions in Concentric, Elliptic, and Eccentric 
 Turning; also various Plates of Chucks, Tools, &c,, and a Portrait 
 of the author done in the Lathe. A New Edition, fcp. 8vo, 7s. 6d. 
 
 HARTLEY— A HANDY BOOK FOR RIFLE 
 
 VOLUNTEERS ; or, a Compendium of Instruction for Drill and the 
 Rifle, according to the most Recent Regulations. Arranged syste- 
 matically and specially adapted to the Progressive Improvement of 
 the Volunteer in Every Stage. By Captain W. C HARTLEY. 
 1 vol., fcap. 8vo, 7s Cd. 
 
 HUGHES— BIBLIOLATRY, AN ESSAY. 
 
 By the Rev. JAMES HUGHES, M.A. 1 vol., fcap. 8vo, 2s. 6d. 
 
 JOYCE— ECCLESIA VINDICATA, 
 
 A Treatise on Appeals in Matters Spiritual. By JAMES MAY- 
 LAND JOYCE, ]\LA., author of a " Constitutional Historj' of the 
 Convocation of the Clergj%" &c. 1 vol., fcp. Svo. Hs. fid. 
 
 LANGUAGE OF FLOWERS, 
 
 With Illustrative Poetiy; to which are now added the Calendar of 
 Flowers, and the Dial of Flowers. Thirteenth edition, 1 vol., fcp. 
 Svo, vrith coloured Plates, 7s. 6d. 
 
 LAURIE— NORTHERN EUROPE 
 
 (Denmark, Sweden, Russia), Local, Social, and Political. Bj'^ Captain 
 W. F. B. LAURIE, late Commissary of Ordnance, Nagpore Force. 
 
 1 vol., Svo. 
 
 LECTURES ON THE MOUNTAINS; 
 
 Or, the Highlands and Highlanders as they were and as they are. 
 
 2 vols., fcap. Svo, 10s. 
 
 LEE— ON MIRACLES. 
 
 An Examination of the Remarks *' On the Study of the Evidences of 
 Christianitj%" in "Essays and Reviews." By WILLIAM LEE, 
 D.D. 1 vol., Svo, OS. 
 
 MACKAY— THE GOUTY PHILOSOPHER; 
 
 Or, the Opinions, Wliims, and Eccentricities of John Wagstaffe, Esq., 
 of Wilbye Grange. ByCHAS. MACKAY. 1 vol., post Svo, 10s. Cd. 
 
 NE ALE— ESSAYS ON LITURGIOLOGY AND 
 
 CHURCH HISTORY. By the Rev. J. M. NEALE, D.D. 1 vol., 
 Svo, 18s.
 
 3© 
 
 NORTHCOTE— TWENTY YEARS OF Fi- 
 nancial POLICY. A Summaiy of the Chief Financial MeasureB 
 passed between 1842 and 18G1, with a Table of Budgets. By Sir 
 STAFFOED H. NOETHCOTE, Bart., M.P., 1 vol., 8vo, 14s. 
 
 ONGARA— BARON RICASOLI, 
 
 Prime Minister of Italy. A Biography. From the Italian of F. 
 BALL' ONGAEA. 1 vol., fcap. 8vo, 3s. 6d. 
 
 PERRY— THE HISTORY OF THE CHURCH 
 
 OF ENGLAND FEOM THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH TO THE 
 PEESENT TIME. By the Eev. G. G. PEEEY, M.A. In 3 vols., 
 Svo, price 21s. each. 
 
 RECOLLECTIONSof GENERAL GARIBALDI; 
 
 Or, Travels from Eome to Lucerne, comprising a Visit to the Medi- 
 terranean, Isles of La Maddelena and Caprera, and General Gari- 
 baldi's Home. 1 vol., post Svo, 10s. 6d. 
 
 ROBERTS— AN AUTUMN TOUR IN SPAIN, 
 
 IN THE YEAR 1859. By the Eev. EICHARD EOBEETS, B.A 
 1 vol., 8vo, with Illustrations, 21s. 
 
 STEPHEN— ADVENTURES OF A GENTLE- 
 MAN IN SEAECH OF A HOESE. By Sir GEOEGE STEPHEN, 
 
 ^vith Illustrations by George Cruikshank. New and Cheaper Edition. 
 1 vol. , post 8vo, OS. 
 
 TORRENS— THE LIFE AND TIMES OF 
 
 THE EIGHT HON. SIE JAMES E. G. GEAHAM, Bart., G.C.B., 
 :M. p. By TOEEENS McCULLAGH TOEEENS, late M. P. , Author 
 of the "Life of Sheil," &c. 2 vols., Svo, price IGs. each. 
 
 TRAVELS IN LADAK, TAR- 
 
 TAEY, AND KASHMIE. By Lieut. -Col. TOEEENS, 23rd Eoyal 
 Welsh Fusileers. Second Edition, 1 vol., Svo, beautifully illustrated. 
 28s 
 
 VERNEY— THE SHANNON'S BRIGADE IN 
 
 INDIA. Being some accoimt of Sir WiUiam Peel's Naval Brigade 
 in the Indian Campaign of 1857—1858. By EDMUND HOPE 
 VEENEY, Lieut., E.N. 1 vol., large Svo, 7s. 6d. 
 
 WOLFF— TRAVELS AND ADVENTURES 
 
 OF THE EEV. JOSEPH WOLFF, late Missionary to the Jews 
 and Mahomedans in Persia, Bokhara, Caslmiere, &c. Cheaper 
 Edition. 1 vol., Svo, 12s. 
 
 WOODGATE— SERMONS ON THE SUN- 
 
 . DEY HISTOEICAL LESSONS FEOM THE OLD TESTAMENT 
 Tliroughout the Year. By H. A. WOODGATE, B.D. 2 vols., 15s.
 
 31 
 
 FICTION. 
 CHARLEY NUGENT; 
 
 Or, Passages in the Life of a Snb. 3 vols., post 8vo, 31s. fid. 
 
 CLINTON MAYNYARD. 
 
 A Tale of the World, the Flesh, and the Devil. 1 vol., post Svo, 
 10s. 6d. 
 
 CONSTANCE MORDAUNT ; 
 
 Or, Life in the Western Archipelago. 2 vols., post Svo, 21s. 
 
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