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 UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY AT URBANA-CHAMPAIGN 
 
 ri\ i\ i-* :■■> ' f
 
 SOLOMON SEESAW 
 
 J. p. ROBERTSON, 
 
 SENIOR AUTHOR OF 
 
 LETTERS ON PARAGUAY. 
 
 friTH ILLUSTRATIONS BY PHIZ. 
 
 VOL. I. 
 
 LONDON: 
 SAUNDERS AND OTLEY, 
 
 CONDUIT STREET. 
 
 MDCCCXXXIX.
 
 LONDON : 
 
 Printed by W. Clowes and Sons, 
 Stamford Street.
 
 
 DEDICATION. 
 
 TO THE LORD VISCOUNT BERESFORD. 
 
 ■'■; My Lord, 
 
 ^ In dedicating, by your Lordship's per- 
 
 ^ mission, the following sheets to you, you will permit 
 IP 
 ^ me to do so, rather as the senior author of a late work 
 
 ^ on South America, than as the writer of three volumes 
 having no connexion wdth the historical events of that 
 Country. 
 
 Your Lordship's name is as indelibly associated 
 - with America, as are the names of Columbus, Cortez, 
 and Pizarro. There is one essential difference, how- 
 ever, in the cases. The career of those conquerors, 
 V. heroic as it was, was stained, in not a few instances, 
 
 i 
 
 '^■^ by deeds of cruelty, which, even if necessary, can 
 
 M never be remembered without regret. 
 vV 
 
 Your Lordship's enterprize, on the contrary, while 
 
 it exhibited all the gallantry of the conquerors of 
 
 Montezuma and of Manco-Capac, was characterized 
 
 b
 
 VI DEDICATION. 
 
 by none of the violence used to bring under the sub- 
 jection of the Old World the vast and fertile regions 
 of the New. 
 
 You conquered the people, but retained their 
 friendship ; you subdued the country, but commanded 
 the respect of its inhabitants. This is, perhaps, the 
 highest tribute of applause to which a conqueror can 
 a,spire. 
 
 I can bear impartial, and I do bear most willing 
 testimony to the honour and esteem in which your 
 Lordship's name is held among them to this day. 
 
 I have the honour to be, 
 My Lord, 
 Your most obedient and obliged humble servant. 
 
 The Author.
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 In the following work an attempt is made, — 
 by the combination of fact and fiction, — or 
 rather, by a great deal of fact wrapt up in a 
 little fiction, — to paint human life, as it is. 
 
 For the reality of the several characters I 
 can vouch. The drapery in which they are 
 clothed was necessary, in order to screen and 
 protect individuals from public gaze. 
 
 I hope T have so far succeeded in this, as 
 that no one person shall be able to say of 
 another, — "Thou art the man/' 
 
 Some may recognise traits and likenesses of 
 their own characters ; but this is an incident 
 almost inseparable from the sketches of him 
 who takes his portraitures from real life. 
 
 b2
 
 Vlll PREFACfi. 
 
 With the dead, I have been a Utile less 
 ceremonious than with the living. Leonora 
 and Priscilla, Doctor Hasty and Doctor 
 Rubhim, the Old Gentleman and Mrs. Mac- 
 munny, have all been sleeping for some years 
 in the silent tomb. 
 
 1 need not say that the stories of Lord 
 Beauclerk, and the incidental mention of Lord 
 Loftus, have no reference whatever to the 
 noble families of those names. They were 
 introduced quite incidentally, as assimilating 
 somewhat in sound to the characters to be 
 drawn. 
 
 I have endeavoured not to forget the maxim 
 of ''Demortuis nil nisi bonum ;" for though 
 there may be found, in some of the defunct 
 characters, a spice of raillery, there will, I 
 trust, be detected no evidence of malice. 
 
 As the senior contributor to '' Letters on 
 Paraguay," and to "Francia's Reign of Ter- 
 ror," I am aware that in turning over a new 
 leaf, — in requesting the reader to accompany
 
 PREFACE. IX 
 
 me from personal incident, travel, history, 
 biography, and geography, to a series of 
 events, and portraiture of character, which, 
 though taken from real life, may be more 
 strictly termed imaginative, — I am bringing 
 myself into the perilous predicament of hav- 
 ing works already much favoured, contrasted 
 with one, to which there may not be accorded 
 such a meed of popularity. 
 
 But the die is cast. I hope it will be found 
 not to be loaded with lead ; and while the 
 throw, if it prove a good one, will be pro- 
 ductive of gladness of heart, yet, if a bad 
 one, it will engender neither censure of the 
 public, nor cavils against critics and re- 
 viewers. I owe, and most willingly acknow- 
 ledge, a large debt of gratitude to them all. 
 
 A few of the objections offered on *' Francia's 
 Reign" will, I hope, be satisfactorily answered 
 in a forthcoming work upon South America. 
 
 The Author.
 
 CONTENTS OF VOL. I. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Page 
 Introductory ........ 1 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Solomon is born into the World — Troubles connected 
 with his Baptism, in consequence of his Mother's 
 want of punctuality, and of Dr. Hasty's excess of it 
 — The character and habits of that Gentleman ; and 
 his mode of conducting himself before and after the 
 ceremony he was called upon to perform — A Christen- 
 ing Dinner-party in Scotland . . . . .30 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Solomon proves too much for the Nurse, and is the 
 cause of frequent controversy between Mr. and Mrs. 
 Seesaw — Upon the unanswerable arguments of this 
 Lady, the family of the Seesaws is transferred to 
 Crabtree Cottage, in the vicinity of Dullborough — 
 Solomon is sent to School — There examined by Mr. 
 Hammerin, the Master, and pronounced a booby . 45
 
 Xll CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 Page 
 
 A sudden change takes place in Solomon's temper and 
 conduct, which alarms the family — A brief account 
 of Mr. Hammerin and his Scholars ; among whom 
 Solomon takes rank, to the surprise and self-congra- 
 tulation of the Dominie — This personage being 
 called to an interview, leaves the School in charge of 
 Mr. Greenhorn, the Usher, who presently finds himself 
 surrounded by Rebels — The interview . ,63 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Solomon gives hopes of his one day becoming a Scho- 
 lar ; but his career under Mr. Hammerin is cut short 
 by the sudden death of Mr, Seesaw — This catas- 
 trophe leads to the projected departure of the family 
 from Dullborough ; which again leads to some account 
 of that departure ....... 85 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 In which some remarks in general are made upon the 
 Dialects and Languages of Great Britain and Ireland, 
 and by Mrs. Seesaw, in particular, upon the Welsh, 
 and their Language — Preparations for a family 
 school. . . . . . . . .102 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Solomon initiates his peculiar system of Method and 
 Education, and, like most great Reformers, meets with 
 many obstacles — This obliges him to resort to severe 
 measures, which, being followed by an amnesty, are 
 productive of the best results . . . . .113
 
 CONTENTS. XIH 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Page 
 
 Solomon's School is organized — The reader is intro- 
 duced to Mr. Holdfast ; to the Widow Wynne, and 
 to her Daughter ....... 137 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 The Story of Martha Meredith 153 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Story of Martha Meredith continued — Leonora and 
 Priscilla 164 
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 The story of Martha Meredith concluded . . . 196 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Solomon takes his departure from Llangollen ; and 
 arrives at Glasgow — He here falls in with an old 
 Gentleman and a company of Bagmen — The House 
 of Messrs. Macmunny, Tiirnit, Turnit and Co. . . 213 
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 Solomon discourses to the Old Gentleman in English — 
 The Reader is conducted to Mr. Macmunny's House, 
 shown up-stairs to the Drawing-room, and thence 
 down-stairs to the Dining-room — He is introduced to 
 the Glasgow Punch- bowl, and to the Glasgow Theatre 231 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 In which the Reader has a peep at the Clyde and at 
 Dumbarton — The Old Gentleman makes an ex- 
 change, ''paying the difference " — A separation . 249
 
 XIV CONTENTS. 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 Page 
 
 The party returns to Glasgow; on which occasion Mr. 
 
 Macmunny is brought more prominently before the 
 
 Reader 267 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The Old Gentleman and Solomon being invited to a 
 Glasgow assembly, are introduced to Mrs. Leader, 
 the Lady Patroness ; to her daughter, Miss Leader, 
 and to other fashionables — A Glasgow Ball . . 283 
 
 ERRATA. 
 
 Page 168, last line, /or " uncere-," read "unceremonious in.'" 
 , , 231, /or '' Chapter IX," read " Chapter XIII."
 
 SOLOMON SEESAW. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 There is a strange fatality connected with that 
 branch of literature, which, under the various de- 
 signations of "Travels," ''Observations," ''Nar- 
 ratives," " Journals," " Residences," " Remarks," 
 and " Reminiscences," may be classified as the 
 literature of *' Movers About.'^ 
 
 Every man who, with the leabt pretensions to 
 education, leaves home, thinks himself not only 
 entitled to write a book, but under a certain 
 moral obligation to do so. What would the 
 world say, and especially what would his friends 
 say if he did not ? His " Journal "' is shown to 
 a small coterie of favoured acquaintance; tlie 
 
 VOL. I. B
 
 Z INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 '' Memoranda " are submitted to the inspection 
 of a " select few ; " various anecdotes, either 
 " wonderful," or " striking," or of a " novel cha- 
 racter," or " highly interesting," are, on a small 
 scale, reluctantly put into circulation, and with- 
 out the least idea, at the time, of such loose and 
 hurried pieces ever seeing the light of publi- 
 cation. 
 
 When they do, it is with an apology for their 
 numerous defects. They have been written 
 " cursorily ; " they pretend to no depth of ob- 
 servation ; to nothing beyond a mere " external 
 glance " at things, as they have presented them- 
 selves. 
 
 But this is not all. To complete the anomaly, 
 it has often happened that your rapid tourist, 
 being the native of one country, has stood forth 
 as the annalist of another ; till it seems to have 
 become a sort of admitted axiom, that the 
 French or American traveller is the best de- 
 lineator of English manners; the Enghsh one 
 of Austrian and American.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 3 
 
 " Oh ! " for instance, it is said, in England, 
 " let us hear what our countryman so and so has 
 to say of the Yankees ; " and across the At- 
 lantic, '' Nay, but let us rather listen to what 
 our countryman has to say of the English." 
 No doubt, both persons may be acute and agree- 
 able writers ; and they are therefore able to 
 write very good books of travel, which, being 
 stored with felicitous fictions, and rendered in- 
 structive by generalization, partake of the in- 
 terest of romance, heightened by the positive 
 assurance, and often by the appearance, of their 
 being the veridical results of real observation. 
 
 That a great deal of real observation has been 
 made there cannot be a doubt ; but the problem 
 to be solved is, — not so much how these observa- 
 tions should have passed current between one 
 country and another, — as how they have got into 
 such extensive circulation. 
 
 We know that in order to the obtaining of 
 credit, there are two usual modes, — the one, 
 that of showing that you are really a man of 
 
 b2
 
 4 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 substance, — the other, that of duping people 
 into the belief that you are. 
 
 The first step in matters of pecuniary credit 
 is, by some specious, but hollow reference, to get 
 an equipage. The equipage procures jou a 
 handsomely-furnished house. The house attracts 
 the butcher, the baker, the tailor, and the con- 
 fectioner. Then pour in upon you, from all 
 quarters, fifty other tradesmen humbly requesting 
 that they may have the honour of your custom, 
 such requests being accompanied by statements 
 that they served the noble family which last 
 occupied your mansion. At length the difficulty 
 is not so much how to get credit, as how to select 
 from among your numerous applicants the por- 
 tion of them which shall " suffer." 
 
 It is pretty much thus with your litterateur of 
 the move-about class. He gets the name of 
 some crack publisher to set him up. He has 
 been to Hindostan, or Kamtschatka ; and if he 
 be a native of either of those places, so much 
 the better. Thus is his literary fame established ;
 
 INTRODUCTORY. O 
 
 and this procures for him a local habitation 
 and a name in the republic, probably in the 
 aristocratic republic, of letters. He is soon 
 puffed into notice, and advertised as a phenome- 
 non ; his countenance is sought, and his com- 
 pany is courted, by the profanum vulgus who 
 read ; till at last the only difficulty with the 
 happy move-about writer is to consider how large 
 a portion of his confiding and admiring dupes 
 shall '' suffer." 
 
 But let it not be supposed that the case runs 
 entirely parallel between your fictitious candi-' 
 date for credit, among tradesmen, and your 
 spurious aspirant to wealth and fame, through 
 the medium of three post-octavo volumes of 
 '' Travels " and " Observations." 
 
 Sooner or later, the pecuniary adventurer finds 
 his asylum in the Bench ; while the literary one, 
 by means of a second and third edition, often 
 rises to the meridian of fame and fortune. 
 
 These remarks, though they have reference 
 generally to the authors of " Voyages and Tra-
 
 6 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 vels," are meant more especially to bear upon the 
 natives of one country, who, after a few months' 
 residence in another, set about portraying the 
 manners of it. 
 
 It is an acknowledged fact, that, difficult as is 
 the task of drawing the portraiture of man, in all 
 the heavings of his soul, in all the reasonings of his 
 mind, and in all the bursting ebullitions of his 
 heart, it is yet more difficult to draw him, as still 
 the subject of these reasonings and emotions, mo- 
 dified by nationality. Peculiar habits, customs, 
 climate, laws, lend a varied tone of expression, or 
 mode of exhibition, to precisely the same inward 
 man; and they are hence often mistaken for 
 real differences of character. Jealousy, as ex- 
 hibited in Othello, — revenge as portrayed in 
 lago, — ambition and remorse as represented in 
 Lady Macbeth, — are of no particular nation or 
 time. They are characteristics of our species. 
 
 Hotspur was not the more violent and testy 
 because he was a native of Northumberland, and 
 lived in feudal times, although the general
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 7 
 
 character of those times lent peculiar strength, 
 colouring, and propriety to the character given 
 of him by the Prince of Readers of the human 
 heart. There are, in the present day, men quite 
 as violent, testy, and self-willed as he was ; only 
 they cannot carry it, as the times allowed him to 
 do, at the point of the sword. There are those 
 now who would be king-makers as well as War- 
 wick was ; only their power being diminished, 
 or the mode of its exercise being changed, they 
 are obliged, under the semblance of constitutional 
 authority, to do by intrigue what their prede- 
 cessor Guy did by the shorter process of bring- 
 ing into the field his armed followers and 
 vassals. 
 
 Comparatively few men have the capacity to 
 stand forth, in a way to attract notice, as striking 
 and comprehensive delineators of human cha- 
 racter. 
 
 Still fewer, perhaps, have the talent of pencil- 
 ling into their canvass the national peculiarities, 
 which, instead of deteriorating from the original
 
 8 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 picture, only lend to it fresh vigour, grace, indi- 
 viduality, and truth. 
 
 The Archbishop of Grenada is a true picture 
 of human nature ; but he stands out with pe- 
 culiar grace, painted in the drapery of a Spanish 
 hierarch. 
 
 Sancho Panza is a more finished, and par- 
 ticularly a more humorous character than Don 
 Quixote ; both are perfectly true to nature ; — 
 just as much so as Sir Roger de Coverley is ; — 
 and yet it would be as awkward to see the Go- 
 vernor of Barataria acting in the capacity of 
 equerry to any gallant knight now in Great 
 Britain, as it would be to see Sir Roger trans- 
 planted, as a country gentleman, to the soil of 
 La Mancha. 
 
 How like is Tereza Panza to the whole race 
 of country gossips ; and yet how much surprised 
 should we not be to meet her in a Scotch " cla- 
 chan," or in an English village ! 
 
 There are, then, it would seem, and there 
 ever have been, general traits of character,
 
 INTRODUCTORY. ^ 
 
 which belong to the whole of the family of man ; 
 and there are national traits, not changing these 
 general ones, but merely modifying them, in 
 connexion with local circumstances. It is in 
 this limited sense alone that we can either pro- 
 perly or philosophically admit the truth of the 
 hackneyed observations (least made by those 
 who observe most) that '' the French are a very 
 different people from the English," '' that the 
 Dutch are not at all like the Spaniards ; " and 
 that '' the Spaniards are of a distinct character 
 from the natives of Norway." 
 
 As if all these nations were not alike endowed 
 with the universal emotions of love and hatred ; 
 of joy and misery ; of hope and fear ; of placa- 
 bility and revenge; of generosity and avarice; 
 of jealousy, covetousness, and envy, and of their 
 opposites, confidence, generosity, and liberality. 
 
 I have endeavoured to show the difficulty of 
 portraying with effect these various characters ; 
 and I have shortly considered the greater 
 stretch of genius required to portray them with 
 
 b3
 
 10 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 a faithful adherence to nature, as tinged by 
 nationality. 
 
 No wonder, then, that the foreigners who come 
 among us, or that we, who as foreigners, go 
 among other people, especially if the residence 
 among them be of short duration, fail so gene- 
 rally in conveying a correct or graphic notion of 
 the various habits, by which nations of men are 
 distinguished, while yet, in all essential points, 
 they belong to one and the same human family. 
 
 It is evident, that in order well to portray 
 the character of man, there must first be laid the 
 foundation of solid thougrht, extensive reading, 
 acute and general observation. 
 
 When we come to raise a question as to the 
 character o^ particular nations, it must be upon 
 the superstructure of long, minute, familiar, and 
 matured study of the manner in which general 
 character is modified by national. 
 
 Until we have acquired, in some measure, 
 the double power of laying such foundation, and 
 of rearing on it such superstructure, we may lay
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 1 1 
 
 our account with it that we never can be con- 
 sidered as master-builders, in this most interest- 
 ing, and, beyond all question, most scientific 
 department of the great and complicated struc- 
 ture of human wisdom. 
 
 It is only by such reading of mankind as this, 
 that we can arrive at that still higher branch of 
 study, of which the sage who prescribed it had 
 formed so just an estimate, that he did not hesi- 
 tate to speak of it in the imperative mood : 
 '' Nosce te ipsum." 
 
 The precept is, no doubt, one of impossible 
 fulfilment; but it has at any rate the merit of 
 pointing to the '' semper melius aliquid." 
 
 Let me now test, by these premises which I 
 believe to be undeniable, the claims which 
 foreigners have on our consideration, as accurate 
 and philosophic observers of our character and 
 manners, in a national point of vieic. I speak 
 not of them as of writers contemplating us as a 
 part of the great family of man, modih'ed by cir- 
 cumstances.
 
 12 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 That is a pretension to which they seldom soar. 
 In their productions, there are to be found but 
 few vigorous efforts of this combined style of 
 writing. 
 
 Those travelling writers remind me of another 
 class of travellers, — your travelling bagmen. 
 
 The first thing which the latter do, when they 
 come into a considerable town, is to run about 
 for orders, making their memoranda, as they 
 go from shop to shop. And in proportion to 
 the number of orders they get, so they consider 
 their day well spent, or otherwise. They then 
 collect in convivial gossip, at night ; and having 
 discussed all about cloths, calicoes, and yarns 
 (some of them very long) they run, in contentious 
 and eloquent debate, over the elaborate topics 
 contained in the newspapers of the day. 
 
 Just so your move-about litterateur ; and espe- 
 cially your foreign one. Let us suppose him to 
 be in Glasgow; he hurries over breakfast, as 
 fast as the bagman ; like him, he looks at his 
 watch every five minutes; he rings again and
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 13 
 
 again for his tardily-brought toast and muffins ; 
 he scolds Boots for being so long with his boots ; 
 and he grudges himself the half hour required 
 by the claims of appetite to allay the cravings of 
 nature. 
 
 He brushes his coat and hat in a hurry; and 
 out he sallies;, with Boots junior as his com- 
 panion and guide, to see the city of Glasgow ; 
 to remark upon its traffic, edifices, institutions, 
 inhabitants, and upon the enormous strides which 
 scientific industry is making in her multifarious 
 walks. All these important points are jotted 
 down in a journal, which, being revised and cor- 
 rected, is, at a subsequent period, to be reluc- 
 tantly given to the press. 
 
 Suppose your traveller to be a Frenchman, 
 come across the Channel on a two months' tour, 
 with a small stock of English got up for the 
 occasion, and alarmed at every moment that 
 passes without a jot in his memorandum-book. 
 
 He thus initiates his parley with Boots 
 junior.
 
 14 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 Frenchman : " Monsieur Boots, quelle rue — 
 what street is dis ? '' 
 
 Boots: '' The Gorbals, sir." 
 
 Frenchman : " De Gobbles ; quest que 9a, 
 wat is dat?" 
 
 Boots : " I dinna ken, sir." 
 
 Frenchman : Bete, stupid ; no know de mean- 
 ing ofde street: remarquez 9a: il ne sait, peut- 
 etre, pourquoi on I'apelle " Boots." Monsieur 
 Boots : vy dey call you *' Boots ? '* 
 
 Boots : " Becuz a clean the boots, and gang 
 messages." 
 
 Frenchman : '^ Ah, well ; he more adroit than 
 I did not believe " (taking out his Glasgow- 
 guide). " Were de University, Monsieur Boots?" 
 
 Boots: " University, sir? — I dinna ken what 
 ye mean." 
 
 Frenchman: ''Bete: Ecossais : Ce gens la 
 sont vraiment stupides. L'Universite, je dis; 
 were de young gens taught to read Greek." 
 
 Boots : " — Oo' the College, ye mean ?" 
 
 Frenchman : '' Yes, yes, de College ; go dere."
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 15 
 
 Boots {to himself) : " I fancy this man's a 
 scholar ; bit, gif he is, he speaks a queer langidge." 
 
 Frenchman : '' Wat dat you say ? " 
 
 Boots : " Naething, sir. Here's the Col- 
 lege." 
 
 Frenchman : " Go in, done, and tell the pro- 
 fesseur that one foreign gentleman wish to see 
 de College of Glazcow." 
 
 Boots (retwming) : " The maister says that 
 he canna' be fashed the noo ; for he's hearing 
 his class." 
 
 Frenchman : " Voyez que ce sont des Betes 
 que ces Ecossais-la.'* 
 
 Boots: " He says, gif ye'll come the morn's 
 mornin' at nine o'clock, ye can see'd." 
 
 Frenchman :" I vill not come to-morrow ; to- 
 morrow I go to Edinburg (remarquez). Ce 
 college n'a rien de respectable, pas meme son 
 exterieur. On dit que les Ecossais ne com- 
 prendent pas le Grec. Allons, Monsieur Boots, 
 a la Bourse, we go Shange." 
 
 Boots: " 'Deed, sir, I think ye hae muckle
 
 16 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 need o't ; for it's a wat day ; an' ye've come out 
 without an umbrella." 
 
 Frenchman : " Wat de brute say ? Pitoyable 
 de moi ; voyageur malheureux ! Sirrah, Sir 
 Boots : I want see de Shange, where de people 
 shange money, and read de papers, and shell 
 sugar." 
 
 Boots : " Oo ! that's the Exchinge, may be, 
 ye mean ?" 
 
 Frenchman : " Yes — Yes — de Ekshynge ; 
 diable cette langue Anglaise. Chacun a sa 
 fa<5on de parler, et de prononcer ; le Dictionaire 
 dit, Ekshange ; Boots dit, EkschT/nge." 
 
 Having got to the " Exchange," our French 
 tourist walks, and stares about ; he wonders at 
 the mass of newspapers there outspread, of 
 every one of which he takes down the title. He 
 then looks at all the affiches, and is astonished 
 at the eager anxiety with which Lloyd's List 
 is scanned. His little knowledge of English is 
 confounded by Glasgow idiom and twang ; till 
 perplexed at length by the hum and clatter of
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 17 
 
 broad Scotch, and seeing every body attending 
 to his own business without even a passing bow 
 to a foreigner, he leaves the " Ekshainge" under 
 a never to be forgotten feeling of the selfishness 
 and '' want o^politesse of de Scotsh." Still, he 
 has patience to visit the Lunatic Asylum, the 
 Botanical Gardens, the Assembly Rooms, one or 
 two of the churches, a spinning factory, and a 
 caHco or muslin warehouse. 
 
 Out of these and a few other raw materials 
 the Frenchman spins the thread of day after 
 day's narrative ; and on much consideration and 
 reflection, he determines to manufacture the 
 whole into a book. 
 
 From books thus made take, by way of il- 
 lustration, a few extracts, which are faithfully 
 given from a work, lately published on England 
 by a Frenchman. 
 
 '' Dinner," says our traveller, '' consists of 
 fish, roast meat, chiefly beef, veal, lamb or 
 mutton, of beefsteaks au naturel, of potatoes, 
 and other vegetables boiled in water, and served
 
 18 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 without any other sauce than melted butter ; to 
 which you are left to impart a flavour by means 
 of pepper, allspice, bad and insipid vinegar, 
 drugged with aromatics, or with some other 
 barbarous preparation of English invention. 
 You seldom see a fowl on an English table, the 
 humidity of the climate being very injurious to 
 the rearing of poultry 
 
 '*^ If in a few private houses you find occasionally 
 a bad and insipid soup served, of which gammon 
 and a hough of veal form the base, you never 
 see even this at an ordinary, although, with a 
 few exceptions, there is little difference between 
 living at an inn and in a private house. 
 
 " Every traveller takes at a separate table in 
 the evening his grog or his tea; to which he 
 sometimes adds a slice of Roast Beef'' 
 
 We have now, from our observing journalist, 
 so minute a list of the price of every article 
 called for at an inn, as makes it quite apparent 
 that his bills must have formed no small part of 
 his study of England, and of its inhabitants.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 19 
 
 Then comes his definition of waiter, chamber- 
 maidj boots, and hostler. 
 
 ^' Waiter, is the man or woman servant who 
 attends to all you want to eat and drink. 
 
 ." Chambermaid, is the femme de chambre. 
 
 ''Boots, is the drudge of the inn, deriving 
 his name from his profession ; for boots, which 
 it is his business to clean, signify, in French, 
 bottes. 
 
 " Hostler is neither more nor less than the 
 stable-boy." 
 
 We are next told that "' boarding-houses are 
 frequented by people of the best society, and 
 that the lady of the house does the honours of 
 the table." 
 
 But a little to elevate the subject, I shall 
 shortly follow the French tourist to Oxford. 
 He tells us that having passed a few weeks in 
 London, he took his departure for Alma Mater ; 
 and here, a good deal abridged, is his account 
 of it :— 
 
 " Furnished with letters of introduction to
 
 20 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 several students, I arrived at Oxford. It is 
 scarcely possible to conceive my sensations on 
 entering this monotonous city, with its ancient 
 and sumptuous edifices, but solitary and lugu- 
 brious streets. 
 
 ^'My heart sickened as I beheld them. Wil- 
 lingly would I at once have quitted this necro- 
 polis of science, in spite of all the attractions of 
 novelty. But my desire was ardent to study the 
 strange manners of the black and fantastic gentry 
 that I saw wandering about in silence, muffled in 
 a species of short cloak, or robe of lawn, hanging 
 loosely over their dress, their head being ensconced 
 in a cap without a visor, but yet ornamented (as 
 they considered it) with a long silk tassel, 
 and a large quadrangular top. My curiosity, 
 therefore, triumphed (continues the Frenchman) 
 over my first painful impressions ; and I speedily 
 hied me to the rooms of Mr. E. K., a student of 
 divinity in Christ Church College." 
 
 After a minute list of furniture, apparatus, 
 ornaments, and caricatures observed in the
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 21 
 
 student's room, we are let into the secret 
 that there was also there a tea-kettle ; and 
 of this utensil our traveller remarks that 
 throughout England it " gaily sends forth its 
 murmuring steam, at once in the drawing-room 
 of the prince, and in the cobbler's stall ; that it 
 is the first part of furniture ever bought, the 
 last ever dispensed with.'' 
 
 In Mr. E. K.'s room there sat eight students 
 of the university, surrounded by all the para- 
 phernalia of a wine and cigar party. This 
 scene quite astonished the Frenchman, being so 
 different from any he had seen in France, where 
 " they manage these things better." 
 
 He thought he was to be introduced to so 
 many " Catos of eighteen," but he was obliged 
 to relinquish this theory ; for, he adds, " I had 
 scarcely been initiated into conversation among 
 these grave personages, when I found that they 
 spoke of nothing but horses and the chase. . . . 
 
 " The time is passed at Oxford in horse- 
 racing, fishing, rowing, archery, chapel routine.
 
 22 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 or in drinking good wine and milk punch. The 
 time that remains, if any there be, is given to 
 study ; but this is the last thing that engages 
 the anxiety of the student.'* 
 
 The Frenchman was terribly affronted at its 
 being supposed he did not understand Latin; 
 and while he exhausted his ingenuity in en- 
 deavouring to ascertain the nature of the studies 
 and laws of the University^ the only two 
 questions put to him, in company of the " eight 
 Catos/' were these : " Have they any fox-chases 
 in France ?" and '' Are the French still great 
 froff-eaters ?" 
 
 '' Great was my astonishment/' says the 
 Frenchman, with a naivete curiously illustrative 
 of his incompetence to scan the character of the 
 society in which he was, " great was my astonish- 
 ment to be asked two such questions ; but it was 
 not half so great as theirs, upon learning that 
 we very seldom ever had such a thing in France 
 as a fox-chase." 
 
 In regard to what he calls the old English
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 23 
 
 prejudice "that the French are epicures in frog's 
 flesh," the French author feels himself bound, 
 for the honour of his country, to combat it ; and 
 now he gets upon a subject (that of gorman- 
 dizing), with which he is evidently familiar, (what 
 Frenchman is not ?) he is much more graphic 
 and recherche than when he endeavours to 
 discuss English questions. 
 
 " I think/' he says, '' I yet see the amazement 
 with which my young auditors listened to me, 
 as I unfolded to them my culinary erudition. 
 
 " ' The greater part of Frenchmen," ' I said to 
 them, ' have not only never eaten frogs, gentle- 
 men, but our cookery is in all respects more 
 varied and delicate than yours. Take a few 
 examples. 
 
 '' ' You do not generally eat eggs dressed in 
 more than three ways, eggs on a slice of bread, 
 eggs in an omelette, and eggs in pudding. 
 Now our French cooks vary every day their 
 mode of cooking eggs. Like you, we liave eggs 
 on slices of bread, in omelette, and in pudding
 
 24 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 (ceufs au lait) ; but our omelette is not always 
 a plain omelette. We have the omelette with 
 fine herbs, the omelette with sugar and confec- 
 tionery, kidney omelettes, omelettes sufflees or 
 inflated omelettes, mushroom omelettes, snow- 
 omelettes, and omelettes a la chemise blanche. 
 Then for eggs, we have beaten eggs, poached 
 eggs, fried eggs, eggs burnt in the saucepan, and 
 eggs done with cheese, cream, &c. 
 
 " ' But I should never finish if I were to enume- 
 rate to you the infinite variety of French dishes. 
 Let what I have said on this subject suffice.' " 
 
 The Frenchman confesses that he was listened 
 to, in his discourse, not only with a patience, but 
 with a gout, which he had not extended to the 
 discourse upon the fox-chase, or the frogs. 
 
 He concludes his short and amusinor account 
 of Oxford by referring his readers to the gro- 
 tesque ceremony described by Moliere of the 
 admission of Argant to the degree of Doctor*. 
 
 * '' Savantissimi Doctores, 
 Medicinee Professores. 
 Qui hie assemblati estis," &c. &c.
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 25 
 
 The traveller avows himself unable to decide 
 whether the ridicule poured by the great French 
 dramatist, upon the ceremony of taking a degree 
 in France, was not equally merited by the similar 
 ceremony which he had witnessed at Oxford. 
 
 These quotations from the French author's 
 work shall suffice: for though he has been both 
 inquisitive, and communicative about London car- 
 riages, coal, shops, gas, squares, parks, markets, 
 police, navigation, steam-boats, omnibuses, and 
 especially breweries, I must refer those who desire 
 information on such novel and elaborate subjects, 
 to the catalogue of them, inserted in lengthened 
 detail in the pages of the French traveller. 
 
 To me the theory seems not sound, that fo- 
 reign travellers can give a better account of us 
 than we can of ourselves. 
 
 If I were asked who is the most successful 
 writer of the present da}^ in this line of exhibit- 
 ing human character, as modified by national, 
 I should answer, with thousands of others, I sup- 
 pose, " Boz." He especially shines in that run 
 VOL. I. c
 
 26 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 of character, to which he has peculiarly turned 
 his observation, and on which he has so trium- 
 phantly exercised his genius. This is at once 
 sparkling and acute, caustic and playful : it com- 
 bines, with powers of generalization the most 
 comprehensive, a study of particulars the most 
 minute, and a talent of description which raises, 
 alternately, feelings of the deepest sympathy, and 
 the most ludicrous associations. He can attune to 
 his own humour alike the lady and her maid, the 
 philosopher and the clown ; the coachman and 
 the gentleman who sits beside him on the box. 
 
 Where and when shall we ever find a French, 
 a Prussian, or a German Boz ? No where, nor 
 any sooner than we are likely to see an English 
 Juvenal, or read the works of a Russian Horace. 
 
 But let us not forget, in our panegyric of Boz, 
 because in a given line of literature the rising 
 star of the present day, the great sun which hav- 
 ing run his course in a still higher sphere than 
 that of the author of Oliver Twist, often '' dipped," 
 to use a nautical phrase, "in the same hori- 
 zon," and brightened it with colours as goodly
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 27 
 
 and as glowing as ever proceeded from the bril- 
 liant pencilling of even Boz. 
 
 Where shall we find the foreign author of a 
 " Meg Merrilies," of a " Baillie Nicol Jarvie/' 
 of '' Rob Roy," or of a '' Jeannie Deans ?" No 
 where. To find any such, we must not only 
 wait, perhaps, for centuries, but never dream of 
 findinor them out of our own isle. Sir Walter 
 Scott, in his day and generation, was in legendary 
 lore, and in portraiture of character, what the 
 greatest Bard of antiquity. Homer, was in his. 
 
 Two remarks offer themselves for consideration 
 on this subject. 
 
 The first is, that most foreign travellers in Eng- 
 land turn to mere Lionizers, pretty much as 
 Englishmen do when they go abroad for the 
 purpose of being able to become authors on their 
 return. Like children who come from the coun- 
 try to London, this large class of travellers go 
 directly to the Tower, then to Wombwell's col- 
 lection of wild beasts, then to a pantomime, and 
 last of all to see a balloon rise from Vauxhall. 
 
 c 2
 
 28 INTRODUCTORY. 
 
 The second remark is, that such books bear 
 evidence upon every page of them, that they 
 never were intended for the perusal, much less 
 could ever aspire to the edification, of the people, 
 whose characters, manners, and customs they 
 nevertheless profess to portray. These charac- 
 ters become unintelligible in the hands of the 
 foreign writer, whenever he would generalize 
 from them, and perfectly absurd, when he would 
 give the portraiture of individuals in detail. In 
 the midst of many curious specific blunders, 
 foreigners can vouch certainly for the accurate 
 enough description, on the whole, of St. Paul's, 
 of Guildhall, and of the Mansion House; of 
 the Bank, Buckingham Palace, the outside of 
 the clubs, and sometimes the inside of Devon- 
 shire House. 
 
 But when you have got this, or something like 
 it, you have got their all; and of this all the 
 most that can be said is, that while the French- 
 man's book about England, the Englishman's 
 book about France, and the American's book 
 about both countries, may minister statistical
 
 INTRODUCTORY. 29 
 
 information, and convey some superficial idea to 
 their respective countrymen of the mere manners 
 of the foreign country which they attempt to 
 describe, all that is interesting in general cha- 
 racter, all that is peculiar in national, like the 
 morning cloud and the early dew, evaporates 
 from the brain of the foreign writer, without, as 
 in the case of physical evaporation, leaving much 
 that is clear behind.* 
 
 In the following pages an attempt is made to 
 describe characters, EngUsh and Scotch, as they 
 are; and if the effort fail, I cannot plead that 
 the failure has arisen from lack of time and op- 
 portunity to observe. 
 
 But I am aware that a good deal more than 
 this is required for the graphic delineation of 
 men and manners, and I commit myself into 
 the hands of that public, which must, from the 
 nature of the case, find for me, in the end, a ver- 
 dict of " guilty," or " not guilty," of obtrusion. 
 
 * I must be here understood as speaking strictly of fo- 
 reigners who, after a short residence, sit down to write of the 
 country to which they have paid their hurried visit.
 
 30 
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 Solomon is born into the World — Troubles connected with 
 his Baptism, in consequence of his Mother's want of 
 punctuality, and of Dr. Hasty's excess of it — The cha- 
 racter and habits of that Gentleman ; and his mode of 
 conducting himself before and after the ceremony he was 
 called upon to perform — A Christening Dinner-party in 
 Scotland. 
 
 Solomon Seesaw was the son of respectable 
 parents, but neither they nor himself had 
 much pretension to the wisdom which distin- 
 guished the great man from whom our hero 
 derived his name. After a short, and more 
 amicable contest than usual about this said 
 name, the father, as the weaker vessel, yielded 
 to the authority of his better half; and their 
 first-born was christened Solomon^ in the pre- 
 sence of many relatives and friends of the
 
 Solomon's birth and parentage. 31 
 
 family. The ceremony was performed by 
 Doctor Hasty, himself a distant relative of 
 Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 The bustle of a christening in the land of 
 Scotia is no small affair on any occasion, but 
 on the present it was one of peculiar interest 
 and excitement. In the first place, Solomon 
 was the eldest-born of Mr. and Mrs. Seesaw, 
 and they thought it, therefore, indispensable 
 to make a fuss among all the people of their 
 acquaintance. The mother of Solomon was 
 ever in a bustle, but the additional stir of 
 that day made no small difference even to 
 her. Like all bustling people she was gene- 
 rally behind her time, and this result of bad 
 management, it will be seen, produced, on 
 the day of the christening, no small confusion. 
 Then, Mr. Seesaw was rather testy, and gave 
 rise to a great deal of unnecessary discord by 
 the declaration of his hatred of all bustle. 
 But the most formidable party in producing 
 the excitement, and increasing at once the
 
 32 A SCOTCH CHRISTENING. 
 
 hubbub and confusion of the day, was Doctor 
 Hasty. He was a minister of peace, though 
 not always a peaceful man : he was fain to 
 break the peace, especially when people were 
 not exact in their aj)pointments with him. 
 From long indulged habit, a rather powerful 
 position in the church, a petulant, and per- 
 haps crusty temper, together with a feeling 
 that not to be punctual with him was a per- 
 sonal insult, the Doctor was sometimes not 
 very bearable. His watch was never in his 
 fob for two minutes at a time : he counted his 
 steps, measured his visits, ate his meals, per- 
 formed, in short, all his functions like a man, 
 as he was, of clock-work. Ever on the gallop, 
 except when fairly seated to a good dinner. 
 Doctor Hasty seemed to be running a con- 
 stant race against time. Not an acquaintance 
 or friend that he had ever ventured to stop 
 him in the street; and being a little near- 
 sighted, he was continually knocking over 
 boys and girls that were in his way on the
 
 THE SCOTCH MINISTER^ DOCTOR HASTY. 33 
 
 pavement. When he reached a house five 
 minutes before his time (he was never one 
 instant behind it), he waited scrupulously at 
 the door till the hour appointed, and then 
 rat-tat-tat went his rather imperious knock, 
 and up boiled his spirit if there were a mo- 
 ment's delay in giving him admission. His 
 dress was a three -corner cocked- hat, over 
 powdered hair, a black coat with large out- 
 side pockets, and flaps that, coming well for- 
 ward, reached half-way down his calf. Over 
 the coat there was a blue spencer (or long 
 jacket), while the Doctor's nether parts were 
 graced with black breeches, dark-grey worsted 
 stockings, thick shoes, and short gaiters. His 
 bands were large, and broadly hemmed : there 
 depended from under a long black waistcoat, 
 with pockets almost as large as those of his 
 coat, a bunch of seals, at the end of a massive 
 chain. Active and erect, though well stricken 
 in years, he shuffled along at a prodigious 
 pace, without the aid of a stick. But as he 
 
 c3
 
 34 DOCTOR HASTY. 
 
 was out, and out on foot, in all weathers, he 
 carried, and carried invariably, under his left 
 arm, with his left hand on the top of it, a 
 brown, and something worse for the wear, cot- 
 ton umbrella : it was as w ell known as his own 
 person. 
 
 His watch, and the contents of a massive 
 silver snuff-box, engrossed alternately his 
 attention, as he rather ran than walked along. 
 This snuff-box he managed with marvellous 
 dexterity, opening it, taking out his pinch, 
 closing it, and depositing it in his huge pocket, 
 all with his unoccupied hand ; the other, as 
 aforesaid, being on the handle of his umbrella. 
 
 The hour appointed for the christening of 
 Solomon was two o'clock ; but he was far from 
 being presentable at that hour. 
 
 The milliner had neglected to send the chris- 
 tening-cap, with its decorations; the nurse was 
 despatched for it, and she, being unwieldy, 
 could not exactly perform, in five minutes, a dis- 
 tance which a nimble chamber-maid could not
 
 DOCTOR HASTY. 35 
 
 achieve in a quarter of an hour. The house- 
 maid was therefore sent after the nurse, the 
 foot-boy after the house-maid, and at the fatal 
 moment of two o'clock, — when the doctor's 
 hand, under the guidance of his vigorous arm, 
 was apphed to the knocker, with a reiteration 
 loud and decided, proportioned to his own 
 impatience, and to the importance of the 
 occasion, — behold there was no servant in the 
 house but the cook, to open the door. 
 
 She was basting a roast, and rightly thinking 
 it no part of her duty to answer the door, — 
 even to Doctor Hasty, about whose knock there 
 was no mistake, — remained at her post. 
 
 Loud and louder became the thunder at the 
 door, and without a moment's intermission, 
 till two of Solomon's maiden aunts, more 
 fearful even of the Doctor's ire, than of a breach 
 of decorum, rushed out of the drawing-room, 
 where the party were assembled. The one ran 
 to the kitchen to scold the cook, while the other, 
 with fear and trembling, and with a dozen
 
 36 DOCTOR HASTY. 
 
 apologies upon her pale lips, opened the door 
 to the almost infuriated Doctor. 
 
 Here followed from under the cocked hat 
 and knit brow of this pious man denunciations 
 loud, long, and not quite compatible with his 
 vocation. Then came the vehemence of the 
 cook, by no means subdued by the considera- 
 tion that she was interfered with by one who 
 was not her mistress. In, at this moment, came 
 the nurse, the house-maid, and the foot-boy, 
 each complaining that one should have been 
 sent after the other, and all dilating on the 
 want of consideration of their mistress. 
 
 Then came the milliner, with the ill-fated cap, 
 full of anxiety lest it should be crumpled ; and 
 last of all, just emerging from his dressing- 
 room, came, bowing in the most appeasing of 
 attitudes, the father himself of Solomon. 
 
 The hubbub which ensued in the hall is 
 neither conceivable nor to be described ; but 
 little would this, or anything else have availed 
 to appease Doctor Hasty, unless the uppermost.
 
 .i\Mi\VlhK, 
 
 ^.. i 

 
 DOCTOR HASTY. 37 
 
 the ever-recurring, or rather the never-absent 
 thought of the standard of time, by which he 
 measured everything, had come in aid of a 
 momentary truce. 
 
 '' Pray, Doctor," said Mr. Seesaw, " do let 
 me take your hat." 
 
 " Do, dear Doctor," added Solomon's elder 
 aunt, '' give me your umbrella." 
 
 '' Kind Doctor," reiterated the second aunt, 
 *' pray let me help you off with your spencer." 
 
 Instead of acknowledging the well-meant 
 civility of either the master of the house, 
 or of his maiden sisters, the Doctor me- 
 chanically drew his watch from his fob, and 
 seeing that it was ten minutes past two, — 
 that is, ten minutes after the hour appointed 
 for the christening, — he flung down on the hall 
 lable, without the proffered assistance, his hat, 
 his gloves, and his umbrella. Disencumbering 
 himself, then, in no very ceremonious fashion, 
 of his spencer, he demanded to be led to the 
 drawing-room. The first thing he said when
 
 38 A SCOTCH CHRISTENING. 
 
 he got there, and without taking notice of 
 a single member of the assembled company, 
 was, *' Well, where is the child?" 
 
 Fortunately, at this moment, in walked Mrs. 
 Seesaw, followed by the nurse, who carried in 
 her arms, and in triumphant state, the all- 
 important Solomon. He was decked out in 
 the prodigious finery of a train, pendent from 
 nurse's arms to the ground, of a crimped cap, 
 adorned with lace, and with innumerable knots, 
 and bows of white ribbons. He shut his eyes 
 (the little innocent), as he was brought into 
 the glare of the light ; but he knit his brows, 
 which made some of the standers-by exclaim, 
 " What an intelligent'lookmg child f 
 Doctor Hasty was at length so far appeased, 
 as to be persuaded, after his fatigue, and 
 before commencement of the ceremony, to 
 take two glasses of port wine, and two pieces 
 of short-bread and bun. He now conde- 
 scended to good-natured remonstrance (atleast 
 it was so for him) on the evil effects of want of
 
 A SCOTCH CHRISTENING. 39 
 
 punctuality ; and he philosophically appealed 
 to his relative, Mrs. Seesaw, whether she would 
 not be confounded, if God were to delay the 
 sun's rising till eight o'clock, when the almanacs 
 appointed him to be up at six ? 
 
 Mrs. Seesaw acquiesced, confessing that she 
 was no scholar, and never looked into the 
 almanac except to see when it was to be dry 
 or wet. 
 
 Things being thus smoothed, and the Doc- 
 tor's heart not a bit the colder for the two 
 glasses of port he had taken, the ceremony was 
 proceeded with. Solomon was transferred 
 from the nurse's arms to his father's. Mr. 
 Seesaw drew himself up ; the nurse held a 
 basin of pure water in her hands, and a 
 damask napkin over her arms ; the assembled 
 guests formed into a semicircle around the 
 interesting spectacle ; the Doctor unbent the 
 severity of his brow, and sprinkling the first 
 hopeful shoot of the family with cold water.
 
 40 A SCOTCH CHRISTENING. 
 
 " Solomon/' said the Doctor, " 1 baptize thee 
 in the name/' &c. Hereupon Solomon whim- 
 pered, and raising and shaking his little red 
 fists, began, even at this early age, to develop 
 the organ of combativeness. 
 
 After a pious discourse, which though at 
 variance with his "punctuality" -temper, be- 
 came towards the end rather impressive, the 
 Doctor offered up a prayer, to the effect that 
 Solomon junior might approximate to Solomon 
 senior in wisdom, in wealth, and in the know- 
 ledge of Him '' who giveth freely, and re- 
 proacheth not/' 
 
 The ceremony being thus happily concluded. 
 Doctor Hasty had two more glasses of wine. 
 No sooner were they taken, than out came his 
 watch, which every body understood to mean 
 " Where is the dinner ?" 
 
 Fortunately the hubbub of the hall had 
 created so profound an impression upon the 
 cook, that she was for once punctual ; and at
 
 A CHRISTENING DINNER-PARTY. 41 
 
 three o'clock just as the Doctor was looking 
 a second time at his watch, dinner was an- 
 nounced. 
 
 Auspicious moment ! Doctor Hasty's severe 
 countenance relaxed into a positive smile ; and 
 gracefully offering his arm to Mrs. Seesaw, he 
 led the way to the banquetting-room. This 
 was on all occasions to him the most agree- 
 able part of the house ; but never so agree- 
 able as when the pleasures of the repast were 
 regulated by a strict regard to punctuality. 
 
 Whenever he thought the bottle ought 
 to be circulated, he took out his watch; 
 and that was at an interval of five minutes 
 precise. Woe betide the vice-president if he 
 stopped the port in transitu especially if the 
 Doctor happened to be on his left. And this 
 he generally was, because, from respect to his 
 station, he was mostly placed at the president's 
 right. The watch, when the bottle was 
 stopped, had no rest, and seldom did it happen 
 that a croupier was so obtuse as not to under-
 
 42 A CHRISTENING DINNER-PARTY. 
 
 stand the second pulling out of the hour- 
 glass, especially if accompanied by Doctor 
 Hasty's too intelligent glance at the inter- 
 cepted decanter. 
 
 The health of young Solomon having been 
 drunk, and, with repeated libations, many 
 good things hoped for him, the Doctor looked 
 at his chronometer, and finding not only that 
 it was eight o'clock, but that, considering his 
 cloth, he was replenished to the very verge of 
 decorum with both solids and liquids, he 
 made a literal bolt from his company, hurried 
 on his spencer, grasped his umbrella, found a 
 place for his cocked hat on his hot and rather 
 confused head, and without saying " with your 
 leave, or by your leave," — without going to 
 the drawing-room to see the ladies, — he gave 
 his company the cut direct. 
 
 In consequence of some angular motion by 
 the way, he arrived at his manse five minutes 
 after his time ; and, next Sunday, he made his 
 parishioners feel his unequivocal dissatisfac-
 
 A CHRISTENING DINNER-PARTY. 43 
 
 tion with his own mistake, by reading them an 
 angry lecture, on the text, " There is a time 
 for every thing." He only got rid of his own 
 bad humour by pouring the vials of his dis- 
 satisfaction upon his congregation. 
 
 After the Doctor had taken his departure 
 from Mr. Seesaw's, many did in his absence 
 what none dared to do in his presence. In 
 not over Christian -like terms, one accused 
 him of being an impetuous man, another of 
 being a glutton, and a third of being a wine- 
 bibber ; but Mr. Seesaw, calling the company 
 to order, reminded them that Doctor Hasty 
 was the man who had that day christened his 
 son Solomon. In a short time the male guests 
 showed that they were at least as much wine- 
 bibbers as the worthy Doctor ; and the female 
 ones, begging to have a last view of dear little 
 Solomon, were permitted by Mrs. Seesaw to 
 visit his cradle. They pronounced upon him, 
 while he lay asleep, encomiums which his great 
 namesake, in his waking moments, would have
 
 44 A CHRISTENING DINNER PARTY. 
 
 blushed to hear. " Oh the darling cherub !'" 
 said one ; " How like his papa !" said another ; 
 " What sagacity !" said a third ; " How beauti- 
 ful !" said a fourth ; till even Mrs. Seesaw, 
 with all her facility of credence on so alluring 
 a topic, begged they would come away, and 
 leave the little innocent to his slumbers. 
 
 Off staggered the gentlemen, and off went 
 their wives ; those who could afford it in 
 hackney-coaches, and those who could not, on 
 " shanks naggie." 
 
 When all was still, Mr. and Mrs. Seesaw 
 sat down in mutual congratulation on the 
 manner in which the day had "gone off;" 
 and agreeing, for once, to sink in oblivion all 
 mutual injuries, they went to rest by the side 
 of the cradle of their cherub, Solomon, not 
 like man and wife, but like turtle-doves.
 
 45 
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 Solomon proves too much for the Nurse, and is the cause 
 of frequent controversy between Mr. and Mrs. Seesaw — 
 Upon the unanswerable arguments of this Lady, the family 
 of the Seesaws is transferred to Crabtree Cottage, in the 
 vicinity of DuUborough — Solomon is sent to School, — 
 There examined by Mr. Hammerin, the^Master, and pro- 
 nounced a booby. 
 
 I AM not aware that the history of even 
 Solomon, king of Judea, had the scribes given 
 it to us from the time of his being wrapped , 
 in swaddling clothes, would have been of 
 much interest till he went to school. 
 
 It is true that in such a case we might have 
 learnt something more than we now know of 
 Jewish nurseries, nurses, and mammas ; and 
 possibly, (as in the case of Hector, and of young 
 Astyanax,) we might have seen David putting
 
 46 SOLOMON IN THE NURSERY. 
 
 off his helmet to kiss the hope of his house. 
 We should perhaps have seen the '^ mighty 
 man of war" sowing, even in the infant mind 
 of his son and destined heir, the incipient 
 seeds of that sagacity which, matured, led him 
 at a subsequent period, to ask of God, as the 
 greatest gift he could bestow — ''wisdom." 
 
 This, however, would have been an excep- 
 tion to the general rule. The ordinary modes 
 of developing mind, of training thought, and 
 of instilling principles are, in these enlightened 
 days, so much a matter of routine, that to 
 repeat them, in any particular instance, were 
 stale and unprofitable. The nurse exercised 
 her usual privilege of indulging her charge till 
 he knew perfectly well how to get everything 
 he wanted by setting up a scream. When he 
 passed from the nurse's care to that of mamma, 
 mamma found his habits much too confirmed to 
 admit of her wrestling with them, especially 
 as she was what is called a "kind and indul- 
 gent mother." When Solomon attained his
 
 HIS EMANCIPATION. 47 
 
 third year, he was brought into more frequent 
 intercourse with his father, who always pro- 
 fessed a great dislike to very young children. 
 The father being not less fastidious than the 
 mother was fond, frequent altercations arose 
 on the subject (on what subject did they 
 not? but especially on the subject) of 
 Solomon's training and education. Before 
 this promising youth had attained his fourth 
 year, he perceived that as regarded his own 
 important personage, there was a schism in the 
 house. When mamma scolded him, he ran to 
 papa ; and when papa frowned, he took 
 shelter in the lap of mamma. Each parent, on 
 such occasions, felt a triumph in the x-efuge 
 sought by Solomon under the wings of the 
 other : so that the young gentleman might be 
 said already to have become umpire between 
 his father and mother. If he had stopped 
 here, it would have been allowable; but 
 scarcely was he out of petticoats, when by 
 the preference which he extended alternately
 
 48 CRABTREE COTTAGE. 
 
 to one parent over the other, he became the 
 originator of many family feuds. By the 
 time Solomon was eight years of age, he had 
 become master of the house, on the principle 
 of " divide and conquer.'' I do not say 
 that his mind was so far trained as to 
 enable him to act upon this principle as 
 an axiom ; but certain it is, that by a sagacious, 
 if not scientific process of induction from re- 
 peated, and successful experiments, Solomon 
 came to the conclusion that he was Lord 
 Paramount in Crabtree Cottage. That was 
 the name of a rural retreat, which after a 
 world of argument, carried through all the 
 figures and modes of remonstrance, disap- 
 proval, contradiction, excitement, passion, 
 vehemence, violence, and foot-stamping, the 
 wife triumphantly succeeded in compelling 
 the husband to take, for the benefit of air and 
 education. 
 
 '' Country air," said Mrs. Seesaw, '^ is in- 
 dispensable to my health ; for what wi' the
 
 CRABTREE COTTAGE. 49 
 
 cares connected wi' a family o' eight bairns — 
 lookin' after and teachin' ignorant servants, 
 cooking, often wi' sma' thanks, for a fastidious 
 husband, — to say naething o' the impossibility 
 o' gettin' claes properly washed or dried in a 
 large town, — my spirits are worn out, my con- 
 stitution is impaired, — and it's a gracious 
 Providence only that has keepit my temper 
 frae bein' soured." 
 
 " Upon my honour," said Mr. Seesaw, sar- 
 castically, " a very sweet temper, indeed: 
 really a sweet temper, my lov e, when you 
 have everything your own way ; no one to offer 
 any objection to your schemes ; but, on the 
 contrary, with oily words to persuade you that 
 all you do is admirable : ha ! ha ! ha !" 
 
 '' Such words,'' said Mrs. Seesaw, " were pre- 
 cisely those you employed before you gained 
 my consent to marry : Oh ! how I rue that 
 day," she retorted, half in a fit of passion, 
 and half in one of romance. 
 
 " Well, well, my dear," said the husband, 
 
 VOL. I. D
 
 50 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 
 
 "perhaps there is no love lost; but you have 
 such a tendency to run from your subject. 
 What were you going to say about education ? 
 One of your reasons for taking Crabtree 
 Cottage was that you might have the benefit 
 of living in the vicinity of Mr. Hammerin's 
 school, at Dullborough." 
 
 " I understand very weel," said Mrs. See- 
 saw, "the purport o' your sneer, an' though 
 there's nae doot ye're a clever man, yet there's 
 as little that ye're a gae' conceited ane. But I 
 fanc}^ for a' that, ye'll scarcely gang the length 
 o' comparin' your talents an' learnin' wi' Mr. 
 Hammerin's, honest man, the maister o' Dull- 
 borough school. Na, na. He's teachin' Latin 
 an' Greek an' accounts a' day, an' he's followed 
 his vocation for twa score years. I was payin' 
 a visit to the manse the ither day, an' he was 
 tellin' the minister, just in his ain simple way, 
 that he gaed at sixteen to be helper to Mr. 
 Maribus, an' that frae that time to this he's 
 scarcely ever had a Latin book out o' his
 
 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 51 
 
 hand. Then they said a great deal to ane 
 anither about some learned men o' the name 
 o' Vairgill, an' Horish, an' Saulist, an' Leevie, 
 an' Tassydus ; bvit the maist edifyin' part o' 
 a' was to hear the twa worthy men reasonin' 
 out o' the scriptures. It was nae easy to tell, 
 except by their coats^ which was the maister, 
 and which was the minister. 
 
 " So, Mr. Seesaw, wi' a' my ignorance, I 
 ken't very weel what I was about when I de- 
 termined to pit the laddies to Mr. Hammerin's 
 school, whar they'll hae the benefit o' bein' ex- 
 amined every year by the heritors o' the kirk, 
 an' the Reverend Mr. Deavehim. As for the 
 lassies, there's a famous dancin'- school at 
 DuUborough, carried on by Mr. Golightly, 
 an' a blin' fiddler, — wi' the advantage that the 
 fiddler gies lessons on the pianae at by-hours 
 to private pupils. Then there's an excellent 
 day-school for young leddies, kcepit by Miss 
 Tiptop, that failed in the millinery business, 
 and has, in this way, the advantage o' bein' 
 
 D 2
 
 52 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 
 
 able to teach that, in addition to the ither 
 branches o' a usefu and ornamental education. 
 There's a writin'- school for boys and girls, 
 shuperintended by Mr. Wagginwatty ; an' 
 though his head gangs like ane o' the 'Talian 
 images made o' wax, yet he writes a han' like 
 copper-plate. Theres good caller air, and 
 plenty o' pleasant walks for exercise. So 
 that again ye see, Mr. Seesaw, though I say 
 it, ye may thank your stars that ye hae a wife 
 that taks so many things into consideration 
 before she taks a step, — that looks before she 
 loups, gude-man. It would be tellin' some o' 
 her learned frien's if, wi' a' their learnin', they 
 did just the same thing." 
 
 Here the usual controversy followed, till 
 the argument was vehemently wound up by 
 Mrs. Seesaw to that climax, beyond which the 
 husband knew it was in vain to attempt to 
 push his opposition. He gave in, as usual, 
 and Mrs. Seesaw triumphed, as usual. All 
 the preconcerted arrangements for education
 
 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 53 
 
 were carried into full effect by the head (I 
 need not say who was the head) of the family ; 
 and the Seesaws, old and young, at the time 
 of which I write, were located in Crabtree 
 Cottage, in the vicinity of the aforesaid town 
 of Dullborough. 
 
 Dullborough consisted of one long wide 
 street, forking at one end of it into two nar- 
 row ones, and flanked along its whole course 
 in a parallel direction by a confined lane, to 
 which the inhabitants gave a designation that 
 may not appear in print. The town was a 
 weekly market-town, and had no police, but 
 that afforded by numerous flocks of pigeons 
 and sparrows, which, being early risers, car- 
 ried off betimes in the morning the grain i 
 the streets, — leaving to a dozen old women 
 and as many tattered children a monopoly of 
 what remained. It was the useful article of 
 manure, which being wheeled, carried in 
 aprons, or gathered up in rotten baskets, ac- 
 cording to the circumstances of the monopolists,
 
 54 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 
 
 was built up at their respective doors^ in the 
 said narrow lane, within a semi-circle of stones. 
 It then constituted that useful species of pro- 
 perty yclept by the inhabitants of Dullborough 
 '' middens,'' for which they were said to have 
 a great partiality. 
 
 Dullborough boasted of two inns, and of a 
 small, dilapidated, old-fashioned kirk of red 
 stone without, and laid with cold damp flags 
 within. From the wall there oozed a green 
 and slimy mould : and the seats were of com- 
 mon plank, which having never been painted, 
 and rarely washed, looked very greasy and 
 black. They did no more than correspond, 
 however, with the well-thumbed Bibles and 
 Psalm-books devoutly spread out before the 
 spectacled noses, male and female, of the rigid 
 Presbyterians. Three seats, and three alone, 
 were lined with baize : that of the worthy 
 baronet. Sir Humphrey Longacre, who lived 
 hard by ; that of the parish-minister, Mr. 
 Deavehim; and that of the worthy dominie, 
 Mr. Hammerin.
 
 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 55 
 
 The rest of the aristocracy — that is, the 
 doctor, the saddler, the ironmonger, the danc- 
 ing-master, the grocer, the baker, the whiskey- 
 merchant, chief butcher, tallow-chandler, bon- 
 net lairds, and small farmers — were all content 
 with their bare timber seats^ and their hard 
 timber bottoms. 
 
 Opposite to the national kirk, and no small 
 eye-sore to its minister, stood a meeting- 
 house of the Antiburgher persuasion, of which 
 Mr. Drawlout, a licentiate of Stuffim Academy, 
 had, after three competition sermons, with 
 five opposing candidates, been elected pastor 
 by the unanimous voice of his hundred- and- 
 twenty parishioners. Upon a computation of 
 the time taken up by the candidates in their 
 respective discourses, it was found that the 
 three sermons of Mr. Drawlout had occupied 
 four hours more time than those of the next 
 longest preacher on the list. This ascertained 
 fact decided the election of the actual minister, 
 it being remarked by Mr. Frost, the elder, —
 
 56 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 
 
 " That^ though there was gude soun' doctrine 
 in some o' the ither discourses, an' they wud 
 na hae been sae badly aff wi' Mr. Mushroom, 
 the second on their list, yet it was nae to be 
 denied that the preference was justly due (he 
 meant nae reproach to ony man) to the man 
 elect; for if he could preach to them sax 
 hours on a Sabbath, an' the ithers only four, 
 was't no' evident that, wi' as good edification, 
 they were keepit by the Reverend Mr. Drawl- 
 out twa hours mair out o' harm's way ? An' 
 let us no'," continued he, '' deny that we're a' 
 subject to temptation, even on the Lord's day. 
 Better to be sleepin' i' the house o' God than 
 idlin' out o't. We ken that there's nane the 
 deil's sae ready to tak baud o' as them he finds 
 idlin' awa' their time on the Sabbath." 
 
 Such was the community, to the neighbour- 
 hood of which Mrs. Seesaw had brought her 
 family for the benefit of air and education. 
 
 Her first step (as has been already told) 
 was to place our hero under the care and
 
 THE TOWN OF DULLBOROUGH. 57 
 
 tuition of Mr. Hammerin, and the first care 
 of this staid, methodical, and persevering 
 dominie of daily routine, was to put into his 
 hands " Ruddiman's Rudiments." He forthwith 
 began to question him about a verb. 
 
 Caught by the sound, " A verb's a verbal" 
 answered Solomon. He had often heard his 
 father talk of the shock his nerves received 
 when he was forced to listen to Mrs. Seesaw's 
 violation of all verbal — something, Solomon did 
 not recollect that the word to be supplied was, 
 " distinctions," or he would no doubt have 
 answered that a verb was a "verbal distinction." 
 Mr. Hammerin observed that his ignorance 
 was great, the darkness in which he groped 
 amazing ; and calling up a boy, who had been 
 eighteen months in the school, but who was 
 younger and less than the new-comer Solo- 
 mon, the dominie of DuUborough, in some- 
 thing not much short of triumph, initiated the 
 following examination : — 
 
 Mr. Hammerin. — " What is a verb?" 
 
 d3
 
 58 MR. HAMMERIN. 
 
 Scholar. — '' A word that signifies to be, to 
 do, or to suffer." 
 
 Mr. Hammerin. — '' Whether do you con- 
 jugate or decline a verb ?" 
 Scholar. — '' 1 conjugate it." 
 Mr. Hammerin. — '' Conjugate «mo." 
 Scholar. — " Amo, amavi, amatum, amare''' 
 Mr. Hammerin. — '' Decline Penna, and lay 
 emphasis on the vocative case." 
 
 Scholar. — '' Penncij pennce, &c. Voc. O ! 
 Penna, Oh! A Pen." 
 
 " That will do ; you may sit down," said 
 Mr. Hammerin. 
 
 Mr. Hammerin had a significant side jerk 
 of the head, capable of expressing, when aided 
 by the countenance, every mode of thought 
 and passion going on within. On the present 
 occasion, the jerk was a gracious one to the 
 scholar, and very much the reverse to Solomon. 
 As for this latter, he stood confounded and 
 abashed, by the learned superiority over him- 
 self of the precocious youth, who had just
 
 MR. hammerin's oration. 59 
 
 undergone so successful an examination on 
 matters so far beyond the knowledge of the 
 namesake of the king of Jerusalem. 
 
 Solomon was next probed as to his attain- 
 ments in writing and arithmetic, and when he 
 confessed that in the former branch he had 
 never got beyond single letters, nor in the 
 latter could do more than write the figures, 
 Mr. Hammerin added " And I suppose you 
 cannot read English without spelling ?" Here 
 he was wrong, for Solomon could read 
 English tolerably well ; but it was an attain- 
 ment held in small comparative estimation in 
 Dullborough school ; although in this respect 
 it must be allowed that the master did no 
 more, and he could not well do less, than 
 follow the example set him by some establish- 
 ments of a much higher order. 
 
 Mr. Hammerin now delivered himself to his 
 discomfited pupil in an oration, of which the 
 following is a pretty close transcript. 
 
 Mr. Hammerin. — " Solomon Seesaw, ye've
 
 60 MR. hammerin's oration. 
 
 been examined wi a due impartiality on the 
 merest rudiments o' the Latin tongue. It's 
 clear that ye not only ken naething about it, 
 but that ye're utterly deficient in a knowledge 
 o' even English grammar. You have entirely 
 failed to mak' out the definition o' a verb, an' 
 I wud advise ye betimes to tak' example by 
 the clever youth that's just ta'en his seat at the 
 head o' his class, after tellin' ye a' about 
 that important part o' speech. 
 
 " Your name implies some notion o' wisdom, 
 but weel a wat it's a sorry misnomer in your 
 case. 
 
 " My sentence is that ye gang an' tak' the 
 place o' booby on that form ; it's occupied by 
 the second-lowest class in the school; an' I 
 can only hope that reflection, ambition, an' the 
 remembrance o' your namesake, will work out, 
 in their proper time, their proper fruits. Tak' 
 as your text the fourth o' Proverbs, seeventh 
 verse ; " Wi' a' your gettin', get under- 
 stan'in'."
 
 SOLOMON PRONOUNCED A BOOBY. 61 
 
 Off was Solomon marched, " as booby," 
 under the escort of the scholar who had so 
 enlightened him as to the nature of a verb ; 
 and he took his station at the bottom of his 
 class, in great and sullen dudgeon, strangely 
 at variance with the imperious will, the high 
 tone, and the commanding attitude ever as- 
 sumed by him at home. He bore no great 
 love to either father or mother for having 
 placed him where he now found himself; and 
 as for Mr. Hamraerin, Solomon considered him 
 the most impertinent, but yet most to be 
 feared personage upon earth. 
 
 Many and strange were the thoughts that 
 crossed his mind. 
 
 "What!" argued he, doubtingly, with him- 
 self, " is Mr. Hammerin mair than my father 
 an' mother ? An' have they ever dared to use 
 me in this way ?" 
 
 But neither Solomon's father nor mother 
 kept a " tawse," or a ferula. They forgot the 
 axiom of the great namesake of their not very
 
 62 SOLOMON PRONOUNCED A BOOBY. 
 
 hopeful first-begotten, that "- he who spareth 
 the rod, hateth his son." 
 
 No wonder, therefore, that Solomon was 
 in dudgeon ; nor that, when he got out of 
 school, he burst into a passionate fit of tears, 
 and ran home boiling with indignation to 
 Crabtree Cottage. 
 
 Here, for the present, we shall leave him, 
 reserving the development of character elicited 
 by these circumstances for the next chapter.
 
 63 
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 
 A sudden change takes place in Solomon's temper and con- 
 duct, which alarms the family — A brief account of Mr. 
 Hammerin and his Scholars ; among whom Solomon takes 
 rank, to the surprise and self-congratulation of the Do- 
 minie — This personage being called to an interview, leaves 
 the School in charge of Mr. Greenhorn, the Usher, who 
 presently iinds himself surrounded by Rebels — The inter- 
 
 From shame and impetuosity, in alternate fits 
 of which Solomon trudged from school to 
 Crabtree Cottage, now stopping a moment to 
 stamp the ground in a rage with his foot, and 
 anon indulging in bursts of tears for the in- 
 dignity put upon him, he passed into a fit of 
 sullen gloom and silence. 
 
 It was in vain that Mrs. Seesaw endeavoured
 
 64 CHANGE IN Solomon's temper. 
 
 to elicit from him the cause of so extraordi- 
 nary a change of conduct and of manner. 
 
 Ever vehem.ent, he had heretofore given 
 vent to his hasty and capricious temper with- 
 out ceremony, and without restraint. He was 
 in the habit of scattering or displacing every- 
 thing that came to his hand in the room. 
 Books flew one way, ottomans were kicked 
 another ; and on one occasion, because a canary 
 bird was singing while he was in his passion, 
 he seized the cage, flung it across the room, 
 broke the water-bottle, spilled the seed, and 
 sent consternation to the panting heart of the 
 fluttering and innocent victim of his wrath. 
 
 In a few hours, as if by magic, all was 
 changed ; and, evidently in one of the worst 
 humours in which he had been in his 
 whole life, Solomon sat taciturn, sulky, and im- 
 movable. He had received so deep and un- 
 expected an aff"ront, — a shock so rude yet 
 irresistible had been offered to his haughty, 
 and, hitherto, uncontrolled temper, while this
 
 HIS ALTERED CONDUCT. 65 
 
 was followed up by such evidence that in no 
 other way could he take rank in the school 
 than by turning from play to books, from self- 
 indulgence to discipline and subordination, 
 that a revolution, as brief as it was decided, 
 had taken place in his inner man, shewing 
 itself in the way described in his outer one. 
 
 That very night, to the no small surprise 
 of Mr. and Mrs. Seesaw, he applied himself to 
 his new rudiments bound in calf, and began 
 to toil away over " penna'' still in dogged 
 sulkiness, but with an earnest and almost 
 intense application^ which as much astonished 
 his father as it delighted his mother. Though 
 entirely ignorant of what had happened, and 
 of what was passing in Solomon's head and 
 heart, Mrs. Seesaw thus addressed her spouse : 
 
 '' Weel, I hope ye'll confess noo' that I ken't 
 what I was about when I sent our son to Mr. 
 Hammerin's? There ye see he's made a 
 scholar o' him in yae day ; an' may be before 
 a month's gaen' by, the son will ken as muckle
 
 66 HIS ALTERED CONDUCT. 
 
 about Latin as some o' his betters that's sae 
 proud o' their acquaintance wi't." 
 
 Mr. Seesaw bowed sarcastic assent, and Mrs. 
 Seesaw proceeded. 
 
 '' Will ye just gang an' see if ye can mak 
 out what's gawin' on in the laddie's mind? 
 What's a' ye're learnin' worth if ye canna' 
 turn't to practical account wi ye're ain son ?" 
 
 Mr. Seesaw acquiesced, tried all his inge- 
 nuity upon Solomon, but could elicit from him 
 no further speech than this, and this very 
 doggedly spoken — "They've affronted me." 
 
 *' Could ye no' argue him into some mair 
 particulars than that o' what's ta'en place .^" 
 said Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 " I could not," replied the husband; ''from 
 being boisterous, the fellow has turned abso- 
 lutely mulish; and if you had a little penetra- 
 tion, you might now, perhaps, in this change 
 of character and tone, see rather the effects of 
 your own ill-timed indvilgence, than of Mr. 
 Hammerin's excellent teaching."
 
 HIS ALTERED CONDUCT. 67 
 
 " I dinna care," said Mrs. Seesaw ; *' ye're 
 a' wrang. I'm sure the laddie's ta'en a turn 
 for the better ; but it may be as weel to in- 
 quire o' Mr. Hammerin himsel' what has actu 
 ally happened. I'll gang an' see him the 
 morn', an' I'm sure to get at the bottom o' the 
 story ; for I ken that the school-maister is, if 
 possible, a mair upright an' honest, than he's 
 a learned an' clever man." 
 
 " Well, well," said Mr. Seesaw, tired as peo- 
 ple will get of such domestic controversy, " do 
 what you like : you know you ever have had 
 your own way ; and I suppose, to the end of 
 the chapter, that you ever will have it." 
 
 Meantime Solomon went to bed, having 
 thumbed at an extraordinary rate the two 
 parts of his rudiments in which he found the 
 definition of a verb, and the declension of 
 " penna." Against his usual practice, he was 
 up by day -break, and again poring over his 
 Latin exercises. He was pacing with mea- 
 sured step the room as the housemaid entered. 
 
 r
 
 68 HIS ALTERED CONDUCT. 
 
 His finger was in the rudiments at penna ; 
 and without appearing to notice the servant, 
 he went on repeating aloud penna, pennce, 
 penn(B, pennant, till the simple Scotch woman 
 thinking him mad, ran up stairs to the bed- 
 room of Mr. and Mrs. Seesaw. She knocked 
 in great fright at the door; and being told 
 to walk in, unfolded her awful tale, " That for 
 certain sure young Solomon was crackit." 
 
 Mr. Seesaw put on his slippers and dress- 
 ing-gown, and Mrs. Seesaw, in fear and 
 trembling, followed him down stairs. They 
 both rushed, in great agitation, into Solomon's 
 room ; and there, sure enough, they found him 
 engaged as described by the housemaid. 
 
 *' What's that your sayin', Solomon," asked 
 the mother, always more quick and alarmed on 
 such occasions than the father, " what's that 
 your sayin' about pens ?" 
 
 '' I'm sayin' my lesson,"" replied Solo- 
 mon. 
 
 " Foolish woman," said Mr. Seesaw; "let
 
 HIS ALTERED CONDUCT. 69 
 
 the boy alone : '' he's studying his rudi- 
 ments." 
 
 " I'll thank ye baith to gang awa'/' inter- 
 posed Solomon; "or as sure's death I'll no 
 gang to the school the day." 
 
 ** But, my man Solomon," said Mrs. Seesaw, 
 soothingly, and still afraid that there was some j 
 thing wrong with her son's brain, " what's 
 the use o' sittin' up sae late an' o' risin' sae 
 early for the sake o* a little Latin ? It '11 a' 
 come in gude time ; sae gang to your bed ; an' 
 sleep for an hour or twa. ' 
 
 '' I'm learnin' my lesson," reiterated Solo- 
 mon, sulkily. 
 
 " Do let him alone," entreated Mr. Seesaw, 
 with a look of submissive appeal to his wife. 
 
 " Weel," said Mrs. Seesaw, " if ye're sure it's 
 his rudiments he's studyin', an' that the words 
 he's speakin' are nae jargon, we'lllethim alane." 
 
 The parents retired : Solomon continued his 
 lesson ; and at eight o' clock, with his two or 
 three EngUsh books and rudiments in a httle
 
 70 HE TAKES COURAGE. 
 
 satchel, he marched off to school, evidently 
 better pleased, though not more communica- 
 tive, than he had been for the last sixteen 
 hours. 
 
 He stumped along the road with a quick, 
 emphatic step, and an air of real earnestness 
 about him that the least observant passenger 
 could scarcely fail to remark. His heart was 
 still boiling with rage and discontent ; but his 
 courage was amazingly increased, by the con- 
 viction that he had not only acquired a good 
 deal more than Mr. Hammerin had enjoined, 
 but that he should be able to "trap "* the boy 
 next above him in the class. Fired with this 
 ambitious project, his quick walking pace 
 turned into a trot ; his trot into a gallop ; and 
 he arrived at Dullborough school in a reeking 
 perspiration, and glowing ardour, half an hour 
 before the school-hour. 
 
 It was in vain that he was invited to play a 
 game at hand-ball, or at marbles, before the 
 
 * " Trap" is a scholastic Scotticism, used to signify a 
 boy's taking the place of those above him iu his class.
 
 MR. HAMMERIN AND HIS SCHOLARS. 71 
 
 " school gaed in." " I winna'/' said he ; and he 
 began again to decline to himself* " jjenna."" 
 
 At length the school was opened ; and Mr. 
 Hammerin entered. 
 
 A word about this venerable personage, 
 before we introduce the reader to his second 
 interview with our hero, Solomon. 
 
 Mr. Hammerin was in high authority among 
 his sixty scholars. Of measured, slow, and 
 even graceful gait and demeanour, he paced 
 his wonted rounds, at once for exercise and ob- 
 servation, in the village and its environs. He 
 kept a sharp eye on the boys he had j ust " let 
 loose from school." If a fray took place at 
 marbles, or a real battle at the game of 
 " French and English," an instant dispersion 
 of the combatants followed the master s ap- 
 pearance in the distance. They that *' held 
 the bannets*" took to precipitate flight ; and 
 
 * Holding the " bannets " means that when two Scotch 
 pugilists enter the list, they are separated, during their boxing 
 match, by two urchins who hold a handkerchief between them 
 to prevent their actually falling foul of each other.
 
 72 MR. HAMMKRIN AND HIS SCHOLARS. 
 
 pugilists and spectators fled hither and 
 thither. 
 
 There was an agreeable and useful mixture 
 of kindness and severity in the often-scanned 
 countenance of the dominie. While it en- 
 couraged exertion^ and intimidated idleness, 
 it left the wayward pupil sometimes at a loss 
 to guess what was really passing within. 
 
 Occasionally a cloud would overshadow the 
 schoolmaster's face, which, though it expressed 
 only sorrow, was interpreted by the scholars as 
 portending displeasure. On such occasions, 
 more than ordinary assiduity was observable in 
 the application to participles^ pronouns, and 
 verbs, in the incipient scholars, and to Tacitus, 
 Virgil, and Horace, among those nearly ready 
 for the learned university of Edinburgh. 
 
 The ferula, when used, was used with lenity. 
 It was a long, black, leather thong, which 
 curled itself into a sort of serpentine circle. 
 In this form it was often thrown into the midst 
 of some idle group, at a remote corner of the
 
 MR. HAMMERIN AND HIS SCHOLARS. / 3 
 
 school. It pounced upon them as a living and 
 fearful witness that they had not eluded the 
 glance of the master's all-seeing eye. Often 
 would a dispute arise as to the precise number 
 of idlers intended to be the bearers of the 
 ferula (or tawse) to the hands from which it 
 had been so dexterously launched. 
 
 This point adjusted, the culprits might be 
 seen, moving in sad solemnity, and with due 
 anticipations of punishment or fine, to the desk 
 of authority. The marbles, which had super- 
 seded the study of Cornelius Nepos ; the 
 papes (or cherry-stones), which, dyed with 
 various colours, filled the little bags of the 
 happy possessors ; buttons used in " pitch and 
 toss ;" balls for playing alternately at the 
 ''patties," and, being struck by the elastic 
 cleckin'-board; all these, with many other 
 schoolboy gewgaws, were piled in conspicuous 
 heaps upon the master's elevated desk. They 
 were a test, at once of his habits of obser- 
 vation, and a terror to evil-doers. 
 
 VOL. L E
 
 74 MR. HAMMERIN AND HIS SCHOLARS. 
 
 Such was the master, and such were the 
 habits of Dullborough school. 
 
 Now for a few words about Solomon himself. 
 He was active, persevering, bold, rather pugna- 
 cious, and urgent in the boyhood avocations of 
 bustle and pride. He was a great breeder of 
 rabbits and pigeons, remarkable for the number 
 and size of his dragons (or kites), fond of 
 '' rowin girs,*'* carrying stones " in the sookers,' 
 searching for bird's nests, skating, " shinty 
 playing," and shooting with bow and arrow. 
 
 He showed wonderful address in procuring 
 what he wanted, " by hook or by crook." Not 
 a carpenter was there in the neighbourhood 
 who was not importuned for the " middle 
 stick" of a kite, not a cooper that was not 
 laid under contribution for a hoop. Grocers 
 furnished brown paper and twine; plumbers 
 gave lead wherewith to shoot sparrows and 
 " yellow yites ;" the farmer made him a present 
 of a brace of pigeons, and some relative of a 
 
 * Trundling hoops.
 
 Solomon's habits. 75 
 
 servant of the family of a brace of rabbits. 
 Hallow-e'en was a great gala night for him. 
 He dookit into the tub for apples, went boldly 
 into the garden for cabbage-stocks, and burnt 
 his mouth by a snap at the candle on one end 
 of the stick in his effort to carry off the prize of 
 the apple at the other. He delighted in carry, 
 ing the bag of some sportsman, and still more, 
 in stealing a ride upon some farmer's pony 
 running unsaddled and unbridled in the field- 
 He put a little rope into his mouth, threw 
 himself nimbly over his back, and galloped 
 as fast round the field as the swiftest of Du- 
 crow's studs with the tailor riding^ to Brentford. 
 
 With these numerous avocations, it is not 
 to be wondered at that Solomon should have a 
 little neglected his learning. 
 
 The truth is, he had none to neglect ; and 
 the very first time that he was ever seen 
 seriously to apply himself to a book, was the 
 occasion on which he returned from Mr. Ham- 
 
 E 2
 
 76 MR. HAMMERIN S SURPRISE, 
 
 merin's school with the hateful and unwelcome 
 impression, " that he had been affronted." 
 
 The school opened ; in rushed the boys ; in 
 came Mr. Hammerin ; '' An' stir up," said he, 
 " they twa' fires. Classes first an' second, 
 stan' up at them, an' warm your finghers." 
 
 Mr. Hammerin, labouring under a consti- 
 tutional cough, now called up the lowest class 
 in the room, and heard them their A, B, C. 
 Then came the next lowest, and that was 
 Solomon's. 
 
 To Mr. Hammerin's astonishment, his young 
 pupil not only displayed much superiority of 
 knowledge over that of yesterday, but actually 
 moved three places higher up in his class. The 
 Dominie being, like Sergius Paulus, not only 
 a " prudent man," but a just one, remembered 
 how sorely he had put Solomon to the blush 
 the day before, and determined to make up 
 for it on the present occasion. 
 
 There was in Mr. Hammerin's heart a
 
 AND SELF-CONGRATULATION. 11 
 
 latent self- congratulation not uncommon either 
 in the Dominies of country schools, nor in the 
 tutors of universities : it is that of appro- 
 priating to themselves no inconsiderable share 
 of the merit due to their pupil. 
 
 I have seen the tutor of a senior wrangler, 
 even on the day which proclaims the proud 
 achievement of his scholar, put on more airs 
 than the scholar himself. 
 
 The first question asked is, '' Who was his 
 tutor ?" And though the tutor has supplied 
 neither the mind, the genius, nor the assiduity 
 by which a rank more honourable than the term 
 {wrangler), by which it is designated, has been 
 attained, yet we know it is no new thitg for the 
 jackdaw to bedeck himself in the peacock's 
 feathers. 
 
 Thus Oxford takes credit for having reared 
 a Locke, a Canning, and a Peel; and Cam- 
 bridge for having fostered a Milton, a Sir 
 Isaac Newton, and even a Paley ; as if those 
 persons would not have turned out pretty 
 much the same, no matter where educated.
 
 78 THE DOMINIE TRIBE. 
 
 Thus also did the master of DuUborough 
 school not a little plume himself upon the 
 wonderful progress made by Solomon^, in the 
 wonderfully short space of twenty-four hours. 
 
 Mr. Hammerin called his promising pupil, 
 therefore^ to the desk of authority ; and there, 
 patting him on the head^ and telling him he 
 would yet be a scholar^ gave him public satis- 
 faction^ for the public rebuke of the previous 
 day. 
 
 Solomon's heart was now as much elated 
 with pride and pleasure, as it had before been 
 depressed by shame and misery : he began 
 to like his master, to turn over the leaves of 
 his book with some satisfaction, and with still 
 more to reflect that he had established to 
 demonstration that there were three greater 
 dunces in the class than himself. 
 
 In the mean time Mrs. Seesaw, in her great 
 anxiety about the state of her son's mind, 
 sallied forth to an interview with Mr. Ham- 
 merin ; and just as Solomon's examination
 
 MRS. SEESAW S VISIT TO THE SCHOOL. /\) 
 
 was finished, a female servant-of-all-work in- 
 formed the Dominie that ^'A leddy wanted 
 to see him in the house." 
 
 Ever on the alert on such occasions, as ever 
 expecting, from such visits, the addition of a 
 pupil to the school, Mr. Hammerin, to the 
 great joy of the class that he was, in technical 
 phraseolog}^ " hearin'," told them to '' Sit 
 down. ' 
 
 Mr. Hammerin pushed aside the "-tawse" 
 which he generally kept at his right hand 
 when he was ^' hearin' " a class : he took oft* 
 and laid down his spectacles ; desired the 
 usher ('' helper," as he is called in Scotland) 
 to preserve order, and sallied forth brimful 
 of expectations that seven shillings and six- 
 pence a quarter were about to be added to his 
 not very ample income. 
 
 No sooner had he taken his departure than 
 the uproar, chattering, confusion and irregu- 
 larity which took place, showed how little of a
 
 80 MR. GREENHORN, THE " HELPER." 
 
 helper, in maintaining order, at least the 
 '' helper" was to his master. 
 
 Poor soul, — what could be expected from 
 him, when after living upon salt herrings, meal 
 and potatoes ; after the expense of 25/. a year 
 to a small farmer, or grocer, or publican, who 
 all anticipated the making of their fortunes, 
 or the perpetuating of their names by the 
 abilities '' o the cleverest son o' the family," 
 this son came to serve for such pay as he 
 got? 
 
 Why, his salary was five pounds less than 
 it had cost the ambitious, but mistaken parents 
 of the youth to endeavour to produce a genius 
 for the pulpit, the university, the medical 
 prefession, the writership to the signet, or 
 (least successful and most precarious of all 
 the learned professions in Scotland) the Bar. 
 
 A Scotch tutor, and a Scotch " helper," are 
 characters so well understood to be very un- 
 polished and commonplace, that there is
 
 SCHOOL REBELLION. 81 
 
 little to remark upon tliem but their often 
 ill-merited poverty. 
 
 No sooner had Mr. Hammerin disappeared, 
 than three or four of the more unruly scholars, 
 in defiance of all remonstrance on the part of 
 Mr. Greenhorn, rushed out of the school : half 
 a dozen began to fight within its walls ; and 
 the loud, constant and unruly appeal of " Da 
 Veniam/' 'dav'nya'm," as it was pronounced, 
 constrained Mr. Greenhorn to dismiss the 
 school half an hour before the usual time. 
 
 This was a tacit license granted to him by 
 Mr. Hammerin, to be exercised on occasions, 
 when, being called to wait upon strangers, it 
 was expected that some time might elapse 
 before the arrangements regarding the admis- 
 sion of pupils could be adjusted, a glass of 
 whiskey given to the parent, and a list made 
 out of the elementary books, slates, slate 
 pencils, pens and black-lead pencils, to be 
 furnished by the Dominie. 
 
 e3
 
 82 INTERVIEW WITH MRS. SEESAW. 
 
 All these preliminaries occupied in Dull- 
 borough a good deal longer time than they 
 would in London; and although Mr. Ham- 
 merin was in the present instance disap- 
 pointed of an additional pupil, he was not 
 the less obliged to listen to Mrs. Seesaw's 
 rather lengthened inquiries about her son 
 Solomon. 
 
 I shall very much abridge the dialogue which 
 passed ; and I shall altogether pass over the 
 rueful reflections which crossed the Dominie's 
 mind, when, instead of a new customer, he 
 beheld his already declared patroness of Crab- 
 tree Cottage. 
 
 " Gude mornin,'" said she, rising and 
 shaking him cordially by the hand. 
 
 " Gude mornin,' " replied Mr. Hammerin. 
 "It's rather inconvenient for me to receive 
 visitors at school-hours; but Mrs. Seesaw 
 shall never be an unwelcome guest at the 
 house o' the school-maister o' Dullborough."
 
 INTERVIEW WITH MRS. SEESAW, 83 
 
 Mrs. Seesaw curtseyed, expressed the uneasi- 
 ness in which she was about Solomon ; hoped 
 that Mr. Hammerin \vudna' gie him o'er 
 muckle at ance to undertake ; and, above all, 
 expressed her hope " that there was naething 
 wrong wi' his head." 
 
 Mr. Hammerin not only assuaged the fears, 
 and calmed the alarm of Mrs. Seesaw; but 
 passed such a panegyric on her son as raised 
 the teacher immeasurably in the estimation 
 of the mother ; sent the latter home in the 
 state and with the gait of an inflated pigeon 
 to exercise her proud strut, not as this bird 
 does to woo his mate, but as he often does 
 to bid defiance to his rival. 
 
 In cases in which her husband was con- 
 cerned it was (a thing supremely to be la- 
 mented) not easy to pourtray Mrs. Seesaw by 
 a comparison to any of the feminine species, 
 so entirely did she exercise over him a mascu- 
 line prerogative. 
 
 Solomon returned home, in many senses
 
 84 MRS. seesaw's exultation. 
 
 of the word, except, perhaps, the right one, " a 
 new creature." 
 
 The history of the change, and of its results, 
 with other matter, we shall give in the next 
 chapter.
 
 85 
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 Solomon gives hopes of his one day becoming a Scholar ; but 
 his career under Mr. Hammerin is cut short by the sudden 
 death of Mr. Seesaw — This catastrophe leads to the projected 
 departure of the family from DuUborough ; which again 
 leads to some account of that departure. 
 
 Not to dwell longer on school-boy matters^ 
 I shall simply say, that whether from Mr. 
 Hammerin's judicious system, or from Solo- 
 mon's peculiar temper, impatient of affront, 
 or from his rising ambition stimulated into 
 more vivid action by the triumph of '' turning 
 down" three booby competitors for " honors;" 
 or whether from Mrs. Seesaw's sagacious, and 
 Mr. Seesaw's learned inculcations ; or whether 
 from an inexplicably aroused, though hitherto 
 latent principle within him, Solomon was cer-
 
 86 HE BEGINS TO REASON. 
 
 tainly inducted not only into a system of un- 
 quenchable application to his books, but his 
 whole temper and manner were changed for 
 the better. In six months he became dux; 
 and for six years he continued dux of his class. 
 Mr. Hammerin observed, when the class got 
 to Virgil, '' that it was only in deference to 
 the invariable rules o' the school, no' to push 
 ae' pupil before another, that he did na' place 
 him in the uppermost class, that was readin' 
 Homer." 
 
 *' But never mind, my man," continued he ; 
 " the best introduction to Greek is a good 
 foundation o' Latin ; an' ye're layin' that wi' 
 as good success as ony scholar I ever 
 had." 
 
 Two things struck Solomon, who began 
 about this time to use his reason, as not very 
 philosophical in Mr. Hammerin's speech. 
 '' First," said the pupil, (but it was only to 
 himself,) " why should I be kept back if I'm 
 able to go on ?" and secondly, '' why should
 
 DEATH OF MR. SEESAW. 87 
 
 I be told that Latin is the best introduction to 
 Greek;, when Greek is the more primitive lan- 
 guage of the two?" 
 
 The truth is^ that Solomon had been making 
 some encroachments both upon Homer and 
 Herodotus, in spite of his being kept back from 
 the Homeric class ; and he could not but see 
 that Virgil was rather a close copy of Homer. 
 Neither could he exactly understand why he 
 should be made to study the copy before he 
 studied the original. That was not, he thought, 
 a sound view of the case. 
 
 As Solomon was making the progress in 
 learning indicated by what precedes, great 
 changes took place in the family. 
 
 Mr. Seesaw died; and so great was the 
 affliction of Mrs. Seesaw, on losing the man 
 whom she had kept a martyr ever since the 
 connubial knot was tied, that she declared she 
 could no longer live in Crabtree Cottage ; that 
 all the walks, and groves, and brooks about 
 Dullborough were very lugubrious ; that the 
 air was not healthy, nor were the people to be
 
 88 REFLECTIONS. 
 
 associated with; and that though it was a 
 pity, to be sure, to interrupt the progress of 
 her son Solomon's education, and of her 
 daughters' dancing and other fashionable 
 acquirements, yet that there were perhaps 
 in other places as good teachers as Mr. Ham- 
 merin, and as good governesses of schools as 
 Miss Tiptop, the decayed milliner. " But 
 even if it were not so," she observed, '' I can 
 no longer live alone amid scenes which I have 
 hitherto enjoyed with my dear departed 
 husband; God rest and bless his soul!" 
 
 A few bitter, sincere, and therefore respected 
 reminiscences, (no matter how destined to 
 speedy oblivion,) assuredly arose upon the 
 widow's conscience. 
 
 Death, by laying pale, and in their winding- 
 sheets, even violent enemies, such as some- 
 times, alas ! are man and wife, conveys often a 
 solemn admonition, accompanied by remorse, 
 to the survivor. He reasons, perhaps, thus : — 
 " How little is it the part, and how much less 
 can it be the prerogative, of one human being
 
 MRS. seesaw's grief. 89 
 
 to embitter in this valley, — naturally one of 
 tears, — the existence of another ? 
 
 "No doubt the unavailing sorrow of the sur- 
 viving party is augmented by the conviction 
 that contrition as regards the husband gone, or 
 friend departed, is of no avail : tears and sob- 
 bings and acknowledgment of past injury, of- 
 fered up over the corpse, cannot recall conscious- 
 ness to him who is in his coffin, nor awaken the 
 sympathy of him who is mouldering in the dust. 
 
 " How many people have been at variance 
 with each other, all their lives, who would give, on 
 the first outbreak of affliction for a sudden be- 
 reavement, life, fortune, everything, which could 
 restore the deceased to one five minutes' con- 
 versation !" 
 
 Solomon's father thus departed, and, for a 
 week, somewhat in this tone, Mrs. Seesaw 
 bewailed her loss. But time has a wonderful 
 effect in obliterating such lamentation ; and 
 after going into widow's weeds, — after weeping 
 for one Sunday at the kirk, and absorbing her 
 tears by the porous qualities of a lily-white
 
 90 MRS. seesaw's sensations. 
 
 handkerchief, sufficiently moistened with la- 
 vender, Mrs. Seesaw yielded herself up, with 
 pious resignation, and some hope that she 
 might not long require the aid of it, to the 
 unwilling conclusion, that she was indeed a 
 '' lone and widow- worn an." 
 
 I do not know that this would much have 
 distressed her; but then she was neither a 
 " rich widow," nor a " buxom widow," a " young 
 widow," nor a '' widow without incumbrance." 
 
 She had eight children. The cares of 
 life, she confessed, had brought wrinkles 
 under her eyes before the time ; and she 
 was in some doubt whether it would not 
 be prudent to substitute for her coming (in- 
 deed, already come) grey hairs, an auburn 
 wig, with graceful curls, that might draw 
 attention from the obtruding symptoms of 
 what she called premature old age. Tlie 
 word '"old," even though only whispered to 
 herself by herself, and, after a look into the 
 glass, not half-believed as applicable to her, 
 sounded gratingly on her ears.
 
 THE ODIOUS^ESS OF OLD AGE. 91 
 
 None of us like to be told that we have got 
 into the vale of years^ though the fact implies 
 that we are drawing near to " another and a 
 better world." 
 
 We all seem practically to think this 
 present world the best in which we can live, 
 while yet theoretically we are for ever pointing 
 to that higher hemisphere in which, as im- 
 mortal beings, we assert that we are to pass an 
 eternity of joy. 
 
 How strange that we should be so reluctant 
 to go in, and take possession of it ! 
 
 We may understand (though it is not easy) 
 how the marquis should be sorry for the death 
 of his father, the duke ; but to believe that 
 the marquis is sorry to become a duke, 
 demands an acquiescence which few will be 
 ready to yield. 
 
 The secret of the matter seems to be, that 
 the marquis knows he must become a duke, 
 and, knowing also how good a thing a duke- 
 dom is, he longs to come to the estate. 
 
 The aspirant after a higher estate, on the
 
 92 PREPARATION FOR A DEPARTURE. 
 
 other hand, whatever he may assert as to his 
 being heir to a better dukedom in a better 
 world, at best hojjes it may be so. He has no 
 certainty, but often many doubts and misgiv- 
 ings on the subject. He does not feel that he 
 is positively heir-apparent. 
 
 All arrangements were speedily made for 
 the departure of the now widowed Mrs. 
 Seesaw and her family from Crabtree Cottage, 
 in the vicinity of DuUborough town. 
 
 Mr. Hammerin called to take a kind fare- 
 well of his pupils. 
 
 I say pupils ; for, beside Solomon, there 
 were three younger brothers initiated by 
 the Dominie into the first principles of 
 English and Latin grammar, writing and 
 arithmetic. They were the first principles, 
 and the last they ever had at a public 
 school; for, Mrs. Seesaw's patrimony being 
 all on which she now had to depend, and her 
 idea of Solomon being, that he w as as clever 
 as Mr. Hammerin himself, she said that he 
 must act as tutor to his younger brothers and
 
 MR. HAMMERIN. 93 
 
 sisters, and reminded him of the expense at 
 which she had been for his education. 
 
 It was while she was descanting on this topic, 
 that Mr. Hammerin opportunely walked in 
 
 His constitutional cough was upon him ; his 
 bent-down body showed that he was tending 
 to mother earth ; his measured gait betrayed 
 at once his mechanical habits, and his habitual 
 cast of thought, — all study and contemplation. 
 His heavy footstep spoke ominous things. It 
 fell upon the ground as if it were calling upon 
 the grave to prepare for a new occupant, while 
 his countenance, pinched into an expression of 
 habitual severity, as being the signal ever 
 required to keep in awe his unruly flock, at 
 once of duxes and of dunces, could have 
 afforded not a trait to Lavater of philan- 
 thropic expression. 
 
 Yet Mr. Hammerin was by no means a 
 cynic. What he was, he was made by habit. 
 This is a powerful modeller of character, but 
 it is not always powerful enough to obliterate 
 that innate humanity, which often lies hidden
 
 94 AN INTERVIEW. 
 
 under a rough exterior ; nor to dry up that 
 current of the milk of human kindness, which 
 is sometimes ruffled on the surface, by the 
 passing storm and turbulence of everyday 
 life. 
 
 '' Gude mornin'," said Mr. Hammerin to 
 Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 '' Gude mornin', an' weel be wi' you," replied 
 the lady. 
 
 " I'm really wae," rejoined the Dominie,'' that 
 ye're gawin' to leave us ; for in twa' three 
 months mair, it's certain that Solomon wud hae 
 been in the Greek class; an' after that, he 
 might hae gane to the Edinburgh University 
 when ye liket. He has nae a bad head for 
 mathematics : he got ow'r the pons asinorum 
 wonderfully ; an' he kens, may be, as muckle 
 about '' a plus 6" as ony scholar in the 
 school." 
 
 The first part of this short harangue was to 
 Mrs. Seesaw intelligible, and she was proud 
 of it. The latter part was Greek; but she 
 readily construed it into a proof that her son
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 95 
 
 must be really '' a clever chiel," to be spoken 
 about in such learned terms. 
 
 " Weel," said she, " Mr. Hammerin, ye may 
 understand what a mother's feelin's maun be, 
 on hearin' sic a report o' her son ; and especi- 
 ally (she continued) frae sic an a man as your- 
 sel'. 
 
 " The poor deceased was ay tellin' me 
 about the ancients ; but I as constantly 
 asked him, whar s the ancient school- maister 
 to be compared wi' the modern Mr. Ham- 
 merin ?" 
 
 Mr. Hammerin bowed; that is to say, he 
 stooped a few inches lower than usual : for his 
 body was bent into a perpetual bow. 
 
 "Ye need na' be sae modest," said Mrs. 
 Seesaw. '' Every body kens, though they canna' 
 penetrate, the extent o' your abeelity an' 
 learnin'." 
 
 " Mrs. Seesaw," said Mr. Hammerin, *' leav- 
 in' this ow'r-engagin' topic, let me ask if 
 there's ony thing I can do to serve ye before ye 
 leave our town an' neebourhood ?"
 
 96 ANIKTERVJEW. 
 
 " Yes, a good deal/' replied the widow. — 
 
 " Wliat is't V said the Dominic. 
 " You see, Mr. Hammerin," replied she, " that 
 I'm a poor widow-woman — I canna' afford, 
 as heretofore, to keep my bairns at the school. 
 Do 3'e think Solomon's capable o' bein' their 
 teacher ; an' if ye do, what method wud ye pre- 
 scribe ?" 
 
 Mr. Hammerin answered these two ques- 
 tions at once, and thus — 
 
 "As for Solomon's capabeelity o' teachin' a 
 young class like yours, there's nae doubt about 
 that. Indeed, if he had staid wi' me three 
 years langer, he should hae had Mr. Green- 
 horn's place, an' a salary o' twenty pounds a 
 year. Ye may guess frae this candid declara- 
 tion, how capable I think him o' conductin' the 
 education o' your young family. 
 
 " As to the second point o' your enquiry, let 
 him just follow the method he's seen at DuU- 
 borough school, an' he canna' gang wrang. 
 Gie him a pair o' tawse ; gie him ample au- 
 thority ; let him hae a stool higher than ony
 
 AN INTERVIEW. 97 
 
 that his brithers an' sisters sit on ; tak' wi' ye 
 half a dizin o' my sklates, sklate-pencils, rulers, 
 copy-books, indy-rubber, readin'-lessons, rudi- 
 ments, spellin' -books, arithmetical lessons for 
 young beginners, questions an' answers on the 
 New Testament, and twa or three books o' a 
 higher order to keep up an' increase his ain 
 knowledge ; an' ye'll see that he'll not only 
 save ye the expense o' a tutor, but grow himsel' 
 a clever an' cleverer fallow every day. O' a' 
 the things, Mrs. Seesaw, for strengthenin' a 
 man's intellect, an' trying his patience, there's 
 nane like that o' teachin'. I should nae won- 
 der, though he's leavin' me now, if at the end 
 o' the three years, I still took him to be my 
 helper ; an' as I tell ye, on a salary o' twenty 
 pounds a year. 
 
 " But while he's instructin' his pupils, O ! 
 Mrs. Seesaw, let him no' forget to enlighten 
 himsel'." 
 
 Mrs. Seesaw expressed herself not only 
 delighted with v/hat Mr. Hammerin said, but 
 
 VOL. 1. F
 
 98 NEW-COMERS. 
 
 frankly acknowledged that she owed the happy 
 prospect opened up to her, as regarded the 
 education of her family, entirely to his wisdom, 
 learnin', patience and kindness. 
 
 A bottle of wine was drawn ; a farl (or cake) 
 of shortbread was broken; Solomon and the 
 other children were called into the room ; the 
 widow endeavoured to look sad at the prospect 
 of leaving the Dominie, the Dominie at part- 
 ing from her and her family. The family, 
 alas ! Solomon not excepted (such is human 
 nature), felt particularly glad at the prospect 
 of leaving Mr. Hammerin; and the tall, ath- 
 letic, and one-eyed female servant, who had 
 brought in the wine, stood eyeing with mar- 
 vellous astonishment the parting scene. 
 
 The glasses were scarcely filled, when in 
 came Mr. Deavehim the clergyman, presently 
 followed by Mr. Liglitfoot the dancing-master, 
 by Miss Tiptop the decayed milliner, and by 
 Mr. Wagginwatty the teacher of writing and 
 arithmetic. The blind fiddler groped his way
 
 LEAVE-TAKING. 99 
 
 to Crabtree Cottage, and requested that, for 
 the last time, he might be allowed to play a 
 new tune to the two Miss Seesaws, as they 
 danced " shantrews." He suggested that this 
 might do away with the melancholy which, 
 though he did not see, he was sure must be 
 prevailing, in consequence of the departure of 
 his friends. 
 
 The suggestion was heartily welcomed by 
 all. 
 
 Up got the ladies and danced shantrews. 
 Then up got Solomon and danced a hornpipe. 
 Then an eightsome reel was arranged, of 
 which the minister, in deference to his cloth, 
 was only a spectator. But he could well be 
 spared ; for the schoolmaster, the helper, 
 Mrs. Seesaw, her two oldest daughters, tw^o 
 sons, and Mr. Wagginwatty, all under the 
 scientific direction of the dancing-master, 
 made up the party. 
 
 So that a meeting which, as the last among 
 loving friends, portended only sighs and rc- 
 
 1-2
 
 100 DEPARTURE FOR LLANGOLLEN. 
 
 grets, ended, as it were much to be desired 
 all meetings should do, in hilarity and joy. 
 
 The Dominie added his parting nod; the 
 minister gave his parting admonition; Mr. 
 Wagginwatty redoubled the shake of his 
 head ; the dancing-master showed Mrs. See- 
 saw the last new cut ; Robin, the fiddler, 
 played '' Erin go bragh ;" and Mr. Greenhorn 
 stood gaping in amazement. 
 
 Three huge waggons being loaded with 
 Mrs. Seesaw's furniture, the inmates of Crab- 
 tree Cottage (including two servants) bade 
 adieu to DuUborough. 
 
 They proceeded by water to Liverpool, 
 and thence by land to Llangollen in Wales, 
 where, as a cheap, retired, and romantic place, 
 Mrs. Seesaw determined to pass, if not in 
 sober sadness, at least in sober propriety, the 
 first year of her widowhood. Economy, too, 
 being an object with Mrs. Seesaw, she chose 
 Llangollen on this account; and she made 
 herself quite easy on the score of education.
 
 DEPARTURE FOR LLANGOLLEN. 101 
 
 seeing that Solomon now stood before her as 
 the image of Mr. Hammerin, and was, by this 
 gentleman's own declaration, as competent as 
 himself to educate her growing family. 
 
 Another cottage was taken, called Vale 
 Cottage, although it was in no vale, but on 
 a precipitous cliff that overlooks the sweep- 
 ing flood which beautifies the valley of Llan- 
 gollen.
 
 102 
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 Ill which some remarks in general are made upon the Dialects 
 and Languages of Great Britain and Ireland, and by Mrs. 
 Seesaw, in particular, upon the Welsh, and their Language. 
 — Preparations for a family school. 
 
 It is worthy of remark that there is no civi- 
 hzed country in Europe in which, not only so 
 many different dialects prevail, but so many 
 different languages, as in Great Britain. 
 
 Yorkshire has its peculiar dialect, Lanca- 
 shire, Northumberland, Cumberland, theirs. 
 The peasant of Worcestershire understands 
 not him of Westmoreland ; and still less can 
 he of the latter county hold any intelligible 
 communication with the cockney. 
 
 In the vicinity of Cambridge, if you talk
 
 OUR MANIFOLD DIALECTS AND LANGUAGES. 103 
 
 good English to a labouring man, or small 
 farmer, they touch their hats, beg your par- 
 don, and passing on, in evident reluctance to 
 continue the conversation, avow themselves to 
 be "no scholars." 
 
 In Scotland the dialects, and especially the 
 twangs, are as various as in England. Your 
 native of Aberdeen understands not him of 
 Glasgow; and your Paisley ''Buddy," learned 
 in politics, and cunning at the loom, gapes, 
 stares, and looks unutterable astonishment, 
 when he is addressed by a man of Tweeddale. 
 
 The Irish are more uniform in their dialect 
 when they do speak English ; the thing chiefly 
 remarkable in them being the accent. 
 
 All this is anomalous ; but not so much so 
 as the fact that we have in the two Islands, 
 denominated Great Britain and Ireland, five 
 distinct languages, cut up into so many dia- 
 lects, that it would be endless to enumerate 
 them. There is the English language, pro- 
 perly so called; the Scotch language;— and
 
 104 NATIONAL EDUCATION. 
 
 there are the Gaelic, the Welsh, and the Irish 
 languages. 
 
 How all this difference has arisen, we can 
 tell by reference to the records of national and 
 provincial history ; but how it should continue 
 to exist in the Nineteenth Century, in a com- 
 munity proverbially enlightened and learned, 
 that circulates hundreds of daily papers, and 
 other publications, all in one language ; in a 
 country thickly studded with schools, colleges, 
 and richly endowed universities ; — to show how 
 this happens were a problem worthy of solu- 
 tion. 
 
 It is to be feared that after all our boasting 
 about national education, neither the '' school- 
 master," nor the ''Penny Magazine" are suf- 
 ficiently abroad. 
 
 Among the lower classes, to whom the pre- 
 ceding observations chiefly apply, those 
 two great instruments of instruction are cer- 
 tainly not in efficient operation ; and as regards 
 the higher classes, it might be a good deal to
 
 SOLOMON COMBATS MRS. SEESAW's VIEWS. 105 
 
 their advantage if they had a little more fre- 
 quent reference to both the master and the 
 Magazine. 
 
 The first desagrement of which Mrs. Seesaw 
 had to complain, on occasion of her establish- 
 ment at Llangollen, was, that she could not 
 understand either the native language, or the 
 dreadfully mangled English dialect of the 
 Welsh inhabitants. 
 
 '' It's no' like Scotland, this place," said she ; 
 '' the folks are a' barbarians : they canna' speak 
 their ain langidge." 
 
 ''Mother," replied Solomon, '^ maybe if a 
 Welchman gaed to Dullborough, he wud 
 mak' the same observation." 
 
 Mrs. Seesaw was rather struck. 
 
 " Weel, Solomon, my man," replied she, 
 " ye're maybe right ; but do ye no' see how 
 greedy they are o' leeks and in gins !" 
 
 " An' do they no like taties, an' parritch, an' 
 sour milk in Scotland?" answered her firstborn. 
 
 f3
 
 106 SOLOMON COMBATS MRS. SEESAW's VIEWS. 
 
 "Weel, maybe ye're right there again," 
 replied Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 There was a quiet, yet invincible sturdiness, 
 about Solomon's manner, that, associated with 
 Mrs. Seesaw's early recollections of her little 
 controul over him, made him a much more 
 effectual governor of his mother than ever 
 Mr. Seesaw had been of his wife. 
 
 On the present occasion, our hero developed, 
 for the first time, his powers of generalisation 
 in the following harangue : — 
 
 •^'Ye see, mother, if 11 no' do to measure 
 the character an' prejudices o' ither folk by 
 our ain. We've a' our tantrums an' pecui'ari- 
 ties. You have yours : I ken that I have 
 mine. The Scotch have theirs (rather odd 
 some o' them, too), an the Welsh, nae doubt, 
 have theirs. This seems to me a queer sort o' 
 town, nae doubt ; but we maun never forget 
 Dullborough. It's just as odd a ane. 
 
 " I canna' speak English ony mair than the
 
 SOLOMON COMBATS MRS. SEES Aw's VIEWS. 107 
 
 folk here ; an' though I can write it, ye ken that's 
 awin' to my schoolin' ; an' maybe a Welsh edu- 
 cated young man wud be able to pit pen to 
 paper wi' mysel'. 
 
 ''Noo ye ken't before ye cam' here, that 
 you were nae comin' to a Scotch town ; an' 
 as ye've ta'en the step, it seems to me un- 
 reasonable to fa' out, a' at ance, wi' the poor 
 Welsh buddies, because they canna' understan' 
 you, nor you them. 
 
 '' Ye want economy, — here ye've got it; ye 
 want quiet an' retirement, — here ye've gotten 
 them ; — ye want caller air, — here it is ; — ye're 
 at nae loss for education, for I (as I may say) 
 am the tutor o* the family. 
 
 " What mair wud ye be at ? 
 
 " Society, to be sure, ye canna ha'e be- 
 cause that ye canna afford; but wud ye be 
 able to aiford it better at Dullborough ? 
 
 " No' half sae weel, because there ye were 
 ken't as a woman o' some substance, as lang as 
 Mr. Seesaw was livin'. Ye moved, therefore, in
 
 108 SOLOMON COMBATS MRS. SEESAW's VIEWS. 
 
 a certain circle, an' at a necessary expense. 
 Your pride wudna' ha'e been pleased to let 
 yoursel' doun in that circle ; an' the only 
 alternative wud hae been to rin into debt. 
 
 '' Noo think o' duns frae the cloth- merchant^, 
 the tailor, the grocer, the shoemaker, the 
 school-maister, the hatter, the wine-merchant, 
 the upholsterer, an' aboon a', the landlord; — 
 an' just consider whether it's no' better to sink 
 doun a little at ance, whar naebody kens ony 
 thing about ye, than either to do't whar every 
 body kens ye, an' to hae a' the duns I've 
 been speakin' about knockin' at your door, day 
 an' night, an' your bein' obliged to tell a' the 
 lies ye maun tell, to avoid them, by sayin' ye' re 
 no' at hame, when ye're only hidin' yoursel' 
 in a back room ? 
 
 *' Even this state o' things might last for 
 some time ; but as sure as the sun's in 
 heaven, your house wud be roupit at last, an' 
 ye wud hae every neebor in the place pointin' 
 their finger at ye, an sayin', in their ain
 
 PREPARATIONS FOR A FAMILY SCHOOL. 109 
 
 sleeve, ' There goes the proud Mrs. Seesaw, 
 It wild be tellin' her if she was as honest as 
 she is proud.' " 
 
 Solomon was left master of ihe field, and 
 from this time he became not the adviser 
 merely, but the ruler of the family. 
 
 " Mother," he said, " education is the basis 
 o' wisdom, wisdom is the handmaid o' under- 
 stan'in' ; an' we ken, frae high authority, that 
 * by understan'in' God made the heavens.' " 
 
 " Nae doubt," said Mrs. Seesaw ; '' I'm glad 
 to hear ye quotin' your Bible." 
 
 '' Weel, then," replied Solomon, who, when 
 he had got an admission of his general prin- 
 ciples, pounced immediately upon particulars, 
 " let us set up the family school." 
 
 '' Wi' a' my heart," rejoined his mother ; 
 '' do yer ain way." 
 
 " Procrastination," thought Solomon, " is 
 truly the thief of time ;" and so, whatever 
 his hand found to do, he did it with his might. 
 It would be good for most people if they did 
 the same.
 
 110 SCHOOL PREPARATIONS. 
 
 That very night, after his brothers and 
 sisters had gone to bed, Solomon took up to 
 the large attic which overtopped the first floor 
 of the small house which Mrs. Seesaw rented 
 in Llangollen, the sundry appendages of a 
 school. He collected all the books and slates, 
 and pens and pencils in the house; he ar- 
 ranged them on a small book-shelf, which he 
 affixed to the wall. He then brought from 
 the kitchen three stools, and took out of the 
 bedrooms five chairs ; he filled two ink-bottles, 
 one with black ink, and the other with red ; 
 he ruled half-a-dozen copy-books, and headed 
 them with sundry sage axioms, such as, — 
 
 Hasty reflections seldom speed well. 
 
 Hope is grief's best music. 
 
 He icho wants content cannot find an easy 
 chair. 
 These were all written in his own best hand. 
 
 He then, with some difficulty, brought up a 
 deal table from the kitchen, and covered it with 
 a piece of baize ; he placed upon it the school
 
 SCHOOL PREPARATIONS. 1 1 1 
 
 apparatus, and then set about constructing, at 
 the head of the table, his own desk of authority. 
 
 This he did, by tightly lacing one chair on 
 the top of another. He placed, for a foot- 
 board, a '' cutty-stool," so located as to admit 
 of his resting his feet upon it while in a 
 sitting position, and of his standing on it, 
 towering above his scholars, when he wished 
 to enforce his authority by commanding 
 silence. 
 
 In lieu of a desk, he erected in front of his 
 seat a pair of what are called '' steps," — a ma- 
 chine that enables the housemaid to reach the 
 upper part of a room, — and over these '*^ steps" 
 he threw another piece of baize. 
 
 In anticipation of the task in which he was 
 to be engaged, he had procured, in the morn- 
 ing, a piece of thick, but pliant and well- 
 dressed leather, and he laid it upon his desk, 
 in its circular form, capable of development, 
 when in authoritative exercise, to the length of 
 three feet.
 
 112 SCHOOL PREPARATIONS. 
 
 He then strewed the floor with yellow sand^, 
 mended half-a-dozen pens, and rehearsed 
 from his bench to the hitherto unoccupied 
 chairs^ the speech with which he was to open 
 the school. 
 
 As insignia of his superior knowledge to 
 that of his pupils, he laid upon the ''steps," at 
 his left hand, his Dullborough Virgil, and his 
 private Homer. 
 
 He then walked round and round the attic, 
 with the nearly exhausted candle in his hand. 
 
 He came to the conclusion that, though his 
 school was inferior in size to that of Dull- 
 borough, it was got up in not a less business- 
 like style. Solomon then went to rest.
 
 113 
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 Solomon initiates his peculiar system of Method and Educa- 
 tion, and like most great Reformers, meets with many ob- 
 stacles — This obliges him to resort to severe measures, 
 which, being followed by an amnesty, are productive of the 
 best results. 
 
 Solomon's preparations kept him up much 
 beyond the time of his usually going to rest. 
 But scarcely had the slanting rays of the sun 
 tinged the tops of the Langollen Hills, when 
 up he started from his couch, called the lazy 
 servants from theirs, told them he must have 
 breakfast at seven o'clock, and referred them 
 to Mrs. Seesaw for a confirmation of his 
 orders. 
 
 The servants had never before been dis- 
 turbed by Solomon, — for he was of lazy habits, 
 unless when they were counteracted by some
 
 114 SOLOMON INITIATES HIS OWN SYSTEM. 
 
 strong motive to exertion ; and then his im- 
 petuosity and bustle were as remarkable as 
 had been his disinclination to exertion. 
 
 It was by such motive that he was roused 
 to study, from having been given up to play 
 and relaxation ; it was by such a motive that 
 he was now actuated in establishing his 
 school ; and it was to the extraordinary con- 
 trast between, sometimes, days of idleness, 
 and at other times of irresistible industry and 
 uncontrollable motion, that Solomon owed, if 
 not the reputation, as the servant had, on 
 a former occasion, expressed it, of being 
 " crackit," at least that of being a very odd 
 and unintelligible sort of boy. 
 
 In the present instance both servants got 
 up; and one of them going down to Mrs. 
 Seesaw, with an exaggerated, and not very 
 good-natured account of Solomon's intrusion, 
 at so unreasonable an hour, asked if the 
 children were henceforth to breakfast at seven 
 o'clock ?
 
 EFFECTS OF IT ON THE HOUSEHOLD. 115 
 
 " By a' means," said Mrs. Seesaw, " if 
 Solomon orders it." 
 
 Her deference to Solomon was at wonderful 
 variance with her rebellion against the late Mr. 
 Seesaw ; who, far from being able to command, 
 in a single instance, her acquiescence, could 
 scarcely ever command a moment's peace. 
 Breakfast being ordered, Solomon's next care 
 was to revisit the school, open the window- 
 shutters, and seeing there was no bell -pull in 
 the garret, to break off one of the bells pen- 
 dent in the lower regions from the wire that 
 conducted to the drawing-room. 
 
 He anticipated some difficulty in being able 
 to raise his brothers and sisters from their dead 
 slumbers at so unusual an hour, and half past 
 six o'clock he marched into the two rooms which 
 contained them, with his bell in one hand and 
 his *' tawse" in the other. 
 
 Ringing the bell, " Get up," he said ; "we're 
 gawin' to hae schoolin' at half-past seven o'^clock 
 an' breakfast at seeven."
 
 116 ARCHY, THE REBEL. 
 
 Strong manifestations of rebellion were 
 apparent. 
 
 The brother next to him in age said — 
 
 '' Aye, man, and wha are you to order us in 
 this way ?" 
 
 Solomon knowing him to be a reasonable 
 youth, argued the case with hira, and prevailed, 
 not only to the extent of his getting up, but 
 to his yielding to become assistant tutor of the 
 school. 
 
 The second brother (Archy) was a little 
 more sturdy, and absolutely refused obedience. 
 
 He had always liked his pillow more than 
 his book ; and with a vast fund of natural wit, 
 sprightliness and stubbornness, was decidedl}^ 
 as far as learning goes, the dunce of the 
 family. 
 
 Solomon was not a man of half measures. 
 H e not only knew his brother's lazy habits, 
 b ut feared he would become a focus of revolt 
 and idleness. 
 
 Finding remonstrance vain, the young
 
 ARCHY, THE REBEL. 117 
 
 Dominie, without further ceremony, uncurled 
 his long ferula, and gave the rebel over a 
 nameless part three such intelligible intima- 
 tions of his lately acquired authority, and 
 absolute power, that the sufferer not only rose 
 upright in his bed with a scream, but jumping 
 out of it, grappled, in fura onset, with his 
 elder brother. 
 
 Solomon threw down the bell and the 
 *'tawse," and grappled with him. Nor was 
 the contest long dubious. He lifted up the 
 caitiff from the floor, back to the bed from 
 which he had come, and there ministered to 
 him such a dose of ferula, as made him cry 
 '' pecavi," and dress in a prodigious hurry. 
 He ran down stairs, as if going to breakfast, 
 but made a sudden turn into his mother's room, 
 and with sobs and tears, entered a loud, 
 solemn, and bitter protest against Solomon's 
 conduct. 
 
 " Gang awa,* my man," said Mrs. Seesaw to 
 Archy, '' and tell Solomon to speak to me."
 
 118 Solomon's REMONSTRANCE 
 
 Archy returned with the triumphant mes- 
 sage. 
 
 "I winna gang," replied Solomon, as, 
 without intermission, he kept rousing one after 
 another of his brothers and sisters from their 
 slumbers. 
 
 Down went Archy and reported. 
 
 Up rose Mrs. Seesaw, alarmed at the noise 
 and bustle which she heard overhead. 
 
 In a great hurry she put on her morning 
 wrapper, stockings and slippers, and followed 
 by Archy, entered the room in which Solomon, 
 surrounded by now five dressed members 
 of the famil}^ was urging the other two to 
 complete their attire. 
 
 " What, in the name o' gudeness are ye' 
 about, Solomon ?" said Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 '' Gettin' up my scholars," replied Solomon. 
 
 " Weel, but, my man," (a favourite expres- 
 sion of Mrs. Seesaw's,) " you're no' to do't in 
 this rough sort o' way ; ye 11 succeed far better 
 by gentle means."
 
 WITH HIS MOTHER. 1 19 
 
 " Will I ?" said Solomon, and turning round 
 to his mother with more earnestness and 
 solemnity than he had ever put on, addressed 
 her thus : — 
 
 " Ye'll allow, I suppose, mother, that the 
 first duty o' a teacher is to get the upper hand 
 o' his scholars ; do you admit that?" 
 
 " Naebody can deny that," said Mrs. See- 
 saw. 
 
 " Was it by gentle means that you got the 
 upper han' o' my father?" inquired Solomon, 
 with a more sarcastic tone than his mother had 
 yet observed in him. 
 
 '^That's no' a question for you to pit," 
 retorted his mother, half stricken by her con- 
 science, and somewhat between fear and dislike 
 of her son. 
 
 " But it is a question for me to pit," 
 answered Solomon, '' an' since you II no answer't, 
 I will. It was by nae gentle means, but by 
 constant feghtin' an' quarrelin' that ye got the 
 upper han'."
 
 120 S0L0M0^'S RESOLUTION, 
 
 "Oh! my man/' replied the mother, '' if 
 ye wud only imitate the meekness an' gentle- 
 ness o' your brither Tammy, ye might do a' 
 the gude, without the uproar an' heart- 
 burnin' that ye sometimes mak'." 
 
 Solomon saw that now or never was the 
 time to establish his authority, at once with 
 his mother and his pupils. 
 
 They were all, except Tammy, gathering 
 round her, and making common cause against 
 the odious innovations, as they conceived them, 
 which Solomon was attempting to introduce 
 into their infant community. 
 
 " Noo, mother," said the uncompromising 
 Dominie, '' ye gied me authority, last night, to 
 form a school, an' tell't me to do't in my ain way. 
 
 " Did ye no' ?" 
 
 With no small reluctance, his mother con- 
 fessed that she did. 
 
 " How is't that noo then, at the very 
 bcginnin' o' my business, ye're invadin' my 
 authority, an' increasin' a spirit o' rebellion
 
 HIS CONDITION. 121 
 
 alread}^ too apparent in every ane o' jour 
 children ? 
 
 " Look, here's the ' tawse,' if I'm no' to 
 use them as I like ; here's the bell, if I'm no' to 
 ring it when I please ; up stairs is the school- 
 room, a' fitted out ; an' if Tm no' to be maister 
 there, — if you ever again come in, interferin', 
 or intermeddlin', let Tammy be the maister, 
 an' I'll set about some ither business for 
 mysel'. 
 
 '- Besides, I maun ha'e breakfast an' dinner 
 at regular hours. 
 
 I'll no submit to't, that ony o' my scholars 
 should be a minute ahint the time, an' that '11 
 be declared by the bell." So saying, Solomon 
 threw up the insignia of office (his bell and 
 tawse), and was quietly walking out of the 
 room, when not Mrs. Seesaw only, but his 
 brothers and sisters, seeing him more in earnest 
 than they had ever seen him before, all, with 
 the exception of the rebel Archy, begged of 
 him '' to be school maister on his ain terms." 
 
 VOL. I. G
 
 122 SOLOMON HAS THE BEST OF THE QUESTION. 
 
 " Very weel," said Solomon; and taking at 
 once up his bell, he gave a ring with it, as 
 joud as that of the bell-man of Margate. 
 
 The two servants made their appearance. 
 
 The hubbub had occupied so long a time, 
 that it was within a few minutes of seven 
 o'clock. 
 
 " Is breakfast ready ?" asked Solomon. 
 
 The cook looked at Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 '* Is breakfast ready ?" reiterated the young 
 dominie, with a stamp of his foot. 
 
 " What are w^e to do, mem ?" appealed the 
 cook, curtseying to Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 *' Gang awa', Jenny," answered Mrs. Seesaw, 
 " an' get the breakfast as soon's ever ye 
 can." 
 
 " Are we to obey Maister Solomon, noo, 
 mem ?" asked Jenny. 
 
 " By a' means," replied Mrs Seesaw. 
 
 Jenny was running off to get breakfast, in 
 the belief that the heads of the whole family 
 were turned, when Solomon quietly interposed
 
 Solomon's moderation and harangue. 123 
 
 between her and the door, and said, " Stop a 
 minute." 
 
 Jenny once more curtseyed, and stopped. 
 
 Then spoke Solomon to the whole audience, 
 but addressed himself particularly to the ser- 
 vants, thus : — 
 
 " I wish ye a' to hear, frae my mother's ain 
 lips, that she has appointed me maister o' the 
 school, in this house. 
 
 '^ Mother— is't true or no' ?" 
 
 " Certainly," answered Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 '' Weel, speakin' first to you, Jenny an' 
 Lizzy, I have to tell you that this appoint- 
 ment's no' settin' me up as your maister, instead 
 o' my mother. She's your lawfu' mistress : 
 an' if to her ye dinna yiel' obedience an' re- 
 spect, ye'll see how shune I'll find it out. 
 
 " In twa' things, an' twa' only, is my voice 
 to be superior to hers. I insist upon haein' 
 breakfast at seeven o'clock, an' dinner at twa. 
 If ye dinna' mind thae twa precepts o' 
 mine (here he struck the ' tawsc ' with great 
 
 g2
 
 124 EFFECTS PRODUCED* 
 
 pith upon the table) ye'll may-be find," said 
 Solomon, with terrible emphasis," that I've 
 mair than a'e argument in favor o' regularity. 
 Ye may gang down stairs." 
 
 Off marched Jenny, followed by her compa- 
 nion; while Solomon, whose speeches were 
 more remarkable for point than length, thus 
 addressed the juvenile part of the posse comi- 
 tatus. 
 
 " Ye see, my frien's, ye had better do your 
 duty, an' obey me." 
 
 " I winnay'' said the rebel. 
 Without noticing him, Solomon added, in a 
 tone of great affection and respect, to his mo- 
 ther : " Weel, mother, noo that a's settled, 
 I desire to say, before a' your bairns that 
 there's no' ane o' them that can respect your 
 authority, or feel mair gratefu' for your affec- 
 tion than mysel' ; an' there's no' the thing in 
 reason that ye can ask me to do that I wud na' 
 gang to the warl's end to do to please ye. 
 "It's only the school 1 hae been speaking o'.
 
 CONDUCT OF ARCHY THE REBEL. 125 
 
 In a' ither respects, they're your bairns, no' 
 mine : an' if ye want my assistance to keep 
 them in order, here I am." 
 
 Scarcely had Solomon reached this point 
 of his oration, when up came Lizzy, and with 
 a curtsey said " That Jenny desired her re- 
 spects to maister Solomon, an' the parritch 
 was ready." 
 
 The squad of scholars were delighted with 
 this announcement, and little accustomed to 
 training or order, made a simultaneous rush to 
 the door. 
 
 Solomon was beforehand with them, and 
 shut it. '' Stop," said he, '' I must ring the 
 bell first. I'll gi'e three rings ilka mornin' 
 for breakfast ; an' before that, there's no' ane 
 o' ye that daur gang down stairs. 
 
 " An' when I do ring, I'll be at the head o' the 
 stairs ; then ye're a' to follow me, accordin' to 
 your ages." 
 
 Tinkle-ing — tinkle-ing — tinkle-ing, went 
 the bell ; '' An' noo," said the dominie, " follow 
 me."
 
 126 TREATMENT OF ARCHY. 
 
 It generally happens that the most boister- 
 ous and unruly person in any society, in mat- 
 ters of discipline and duty, is the most forward 
 to seize upon the loaves and fishes. 
 
 So it was in this case. 
 
 Archy the rebel took the lead of the whole 
 family in his attempt to get to breakfast. 
 
 But Solomon coolly collared him as he was 
 passing out of the room, and said to him : 
 " Ye've threatened^ my birkie, no' to obey me '■> 
 and until ye mak' a solemn promise that ye 
 will obey me, ye'se hae neither breakfast, 
 dinner, nor supper." 
 
 " 1 winnar said the rebel. 
 
 But he was afraid of further physically en- 
 countering the prowess of Solomon ; and so he 
 allowed himself, without resistance, to be held 
 by this last, till the juvenile procession, com- 
 posed of the other members of the family, had 
 passed out of the room, being ordered by their 
 master to halt at the head of the stairs till he 
 should come out. 
 
 Then quietly loosing hold of his pupil
 
 TREATMENT OF ARCHY, 127 
 
 Archy, Solomon locked the door upon him ; 
 and, with his bell and tawse, in a state that 
 would have done credit to Mr. Hammerin him- 
 self, marched at the head of his little band, to 
 the parlour, to breakfast. 
 
 Never had it been so neatly laid out before. 
 
 Mrs. Seesaw looked on with astonishment, 
 confessing that regularity, of which she knew 
 nothing, was an excellent thing ; while Lizzy, 
 waiting with more than usual respect and at- 
 tention, said in a whisper to Mrs. Seesaw : 
 "Eh ! mem, if the late Mr. Seesaw had been 
 like maister Solomon, it wud hae been tellin' 
 us a'." 
 
 " 'Deed wud it, Lizzy," replied the widow ; 
 " an' be it said without ony reproach to them 
 that's gane to their lang hame, that although 
 Solomon has mair power o'er me than ever my 
 dead husband had, I like the laddie better 
 than I did his father. 
 
 "There's something sterlin' an' sagacious 
 about Solomon that ye can depend upon . 
 and though he has a rough exterior, I m
 
 128 
 
 MRS. SEESAW AND LIZZY. 
 
 sure he hasna' a bad heart. Ye heard wi' 
 what respect he concluded his boisterous 
 speech about the school.'* 
 
 " Did I no', mem ?" said Lizz}^; '' an' to tell 
 ye the truth, Jenny an' me has baith sine e 
 agreed, that though we maun get up a little 
 sooner, the house will be conducted wi' far 
 better regularity than it ever could ha'e been 
 before, when there was nane. 
 
 " Nae doubt the young maisters an' misses is 
 a' fine weans; but weel a' wat, they're no' a 
 little unruly sometimes. 
 
 " I declare, Mrs. Seesaw, that we're some- 
 times obliged to wash the passage three times 
 a day ; an' as for the garden, there*s nae- 
 body ever can walk in't, nor is there ever a 
 flower to be seen, nor a ripe cherry, currant , 
 apple, gooseberry, or pear. They'll no' even 
 let the turnips and carrots grow without 
 stcalin' them." 
 
 '' I'm afeard its ower true," said Mrs. Seesaw, 
 mournfully. 
 
 At this point of their conversation, they
 
 137 
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 Solomon's School is organized — the reader is introduced 
 to Mr. Holdfast ; to the Widow Wynne and to her 
 Daughter. 
 
 There is nothing like laying a good foun- 
 dation ; and so well, even in so short a time, 
 did Solomon lay his, that his school prospered 
 to admiration. 
 
 There was no fiddler for the dancing-school 
 hours in Langollen ; but there was an old 
 and venerable Welsh harper, with whom 
 Solomon agreed, on very moderate terms, for 
 an attendance of two hours in the day. 
 
 What with his playing, and Solomon's per- 
 formance, the dancing proceeded, and the 
 music too : for the harper understood, and
 
 138 COURSE OF STUDY. 
 
 could teach the piano, as well as the harp. 
 Besides : 
 
 Tammy had a decided taste for the flute, 
 and Mag, the eldest sister, for music in 
 general. 
 
 So that the first principles of grammar, 
 writing, arithmetic, Latin, algebra, geometry, 
 music and dancing were all successfully taught 
 in the attic. 
 
 For twelve months did Solomon cheerfully 
 and unflinchingly pursue his avocation of 
 dominie, assisted by his tutor Tammy. 
 
 At the end of this time, — indeed a good 
 while before it, — he began to think of the 
 necessity of his starting in the world, on his 
 own account ; and he came the more readily 
 to this resolution, as he found his assistant 
 becoming every day more able to conduct the 
 school. 
 
 He was precipitated, however, to a realiza- 
 tion of his plans, by an incident, which, 
 by wounding his pride, set him all on fire.
 
 SOLOMON THINKS OF LEAVING HOME. 139 
 
 and determined him to the immediate execu- 
 tion of that of which he had heretofore only 
 been thinking, viz., of making a stand in the 
 world for himself. 
 
 A friend, of the family happened to pass 
 through Langollen, and of course called at 
 Vale Cottage. 
 
 He had a great esteem for Solomon, but was 
 one of those men ever more ready to give sage 
 advice, than to minister essential relief. He 
 would help and assist in any way, — and that 
 very fervently, — so that he was never asked to 
 draw his purse-strings in aid of his friends. 
 
 His name was Mr. Holdfast. 
 
 Having seen and admired the organization 
 of Solomon's school, and having heard from 
 Mrs. Seesaw, of the young dominie's desire to 
 make a start in the world, Mr. Holdfast kindly 
 said to the widow : '' I think I could procure 
 for him a situation as apprentice, in the shop 
 of a very respectable friend of mine, a linen- 
 draper."
 
 140 MR. HOLDFAST. 
 
 Mrs. Seesaw did not much relish the 
 anticipation of her son's handling a yard, 
 and standing behind a counter. 
 
 She did not however wish to lose any 
 feasible opening for him ; and so thanked Mr. 
 Holdfast for his offer. 
 
 " But/' added she/' Solomon has his ain ways, 
 an' I wish you would speak to him yoursel'." 
 
 " With all my heart," said Mr. Holdfast. 
 
 Solomon was summoned from the attic, 
 with Mr. Holdfast's compliments. 
 
 The proposition was laid before him ; and 
 considering that he was only sixteen years of 
 age, and that sixty pounds a year was pro- 
 nounced as being the probable salary after 
 the expiration of his apprenticeship, no 
 doubt was entertained by Mr. Holdfast of 
 his gladly and gratefully accepting the offer. 
 
 Solomon entered with a bow, and sat him- 
 self gravely down. 
 
 Mr. Holdfast said that he had something im- 
 portant, and, as he hoped, agreeable, to propose.
 
 MR. HOLDFAST. 141 
 
 '^ What is't. Sir ?" asked Solomon, half seri- 
 ous, half glad. 
 
 The proposal was stated to him. 
 
 His anxious mother endeavoured to trace 
 through the expression of his countenance, the 
 workings of his mind. 
 
 The young dominie considered, but not for 
 more than a minute ; and then rising, he ad- 
 dressed Mr. Holdfast thus : 
 
 '' Ye're nae doubt an excellent frien' o' the 
 family, Mr. Holdfast; an' I canna' but thank 
 ye for your kindness to me. 
 
 " But ye may believe that I was never born 
 into this worl' to be a linen draper's appren- 
 tice ; an' if ye were to try an' consecrate 
 me to that office at a salary o' six hundred, 
 instead o' sixty pounds a-year, poor as I am, 
 an' poor as my prospects are, / uudna tak' 
 
 itr 
 
 Without saying another word, Solomon 
 marched back to his school ; and in two mi- 
 nutes more, he was asking his usher Tammy 
 '^ Whar' they had left afF?"
 
 142 MR. HOLDFAST. 
 
 Mr. Holdfast had most remarkable eyes. 
 
 They were neither straight-forward looking 
 eyes, nor squinting eyes. They were neither 
 black, nor blue, nor hazel, nor grey. They 
 were of a dun hue, floating in a very superflu- 
 ous quantity of moisture, which looked as if it 
 had been produced by the steeping of tobacco 
 in water. They never could bear the glance 
 of another eye, especially if it was a keen one. 
 When accosted, therefore, Mr. Holdfast either 
 ogled, or looked on the ground. 
 
 When in a contemplative mood, occasioned 
 by any sudden surprise, his eyes rolled round 
 and round. A compound of vacuity, confusion 
 and restlessness obliterated their natural cha- 
 racter; and the uppermost instinct in the be- 
 holder was, to get out of the way. 
 
 This latter was the form which Mr. Hold- 
 fast's eyes assumed, on hearing the speech 
 and beholding the conduct of Solomon. 
 
 It often happens that when you see a person 
 thus not knowing how to look, or where to
 
 MR. HOLDFAST. 143 
 
 turn himself, a similar epidemic is begotten in 
 the beholder. I have suffered more from 
 people's not being able to look me in the face, 
 or from their doing so only with a disturbed 
 than eye, from all the other grievances (mul- 
 tifarious as they are) of society. 
 
 Thus now looked Mr. Holdfast, and thus 
 now felt Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 The interview was too painful to both par- 
 ties to be long protracted. 
 
 •' Good morning," said Mr. Holdfast, awk- 
 wardly and hurriedly shaking Mrs. Seesaw's 
 hand : '* I am sorry that my efforts to serve 
 your family have been unavailing." 
 
 " Gude mornin'," replied Mrs. Seesaw : 
 " so am I." 
 
 " But stop, Mr. Holdfast," continued she, 
 " I'm rather out o' siller : I dinna get my 
 quarter's annuity (that was what Mrs. Seesaw 
 called her quarterly dividend) for three weeks 
 yet ; an' maybe ye'll len' me ten pound till 
 then. I'll repay ye wi' mony thanks."
 
 144 Solomon's re>solve. 
 
 *' Good morning, good morning," reiterated 
 Mr. Holdfast; and, with his eyes more bewil- 
 dered than ever, he took his departure. 
 
 But he deposited no ten pound note in the 
 half outstretched hand of Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 No sooner did Solomon hear the bell ring 
 for Mr. Holdfast's- departure, than he came 
 down stairs, and thus addressed Mrs. Seesaw. 
 
 '' Mother : Mr. Hammerin ance affronted 
 me ; an' it turned out a' for the better. 
 
 " Mr. Holdfast has noo deeply affronted me ; 
 an' I houp that'll turn out for the better, too. 
 
 " In eight days I'm ga'in' to leave Tammy 
 maister o' the school, an' to seek my ain for- 
 tune. Tammy's as clever as I am ; he is, 
 as you say, a great deal better tempered, an' 
 he kens how to manage the tawse wi' a' the 
 effect, an' less o' the severity, o' your son Solo- 
 mon." 
 
 Mrs. Seesaw swooned. 
 
 Solomon, having often before seen her ih 
 that plight, burnt a feather, brought the
 
 Solomon's resolve. 145 
 
 lavender-bottle, dipped a cloth in cold waters 
 and bathed her temples. Presently, after one 
 or two heaves, his mother was quite well. 
 
 Many were the pros adduced by Solomon in 
 favour of his project of emigration ; and many 
 the contras urged by his mother against it. 
 
 The son thought it not only necessary, but 
 mjan-like; the mother not only w?mecessary, 
 but rash in the extreme. 
 
 Tenacious Solomon, however, stuck to his 
 purpose ; and busy preparations were made 
 for his outfit and departure. 
 
 An episode must intervene, before he is 
 launched into that sea of troubles, " the world ;" 
 and though it has already been seen that he 
 has had his ups and downs, even in the school, 
 and family circle, it will be much more fully 
 shown, after he starts upon what may be 
 strictly termed " his life and adventures," 
 how he was vj) to-day, down to-morrow; and 
 how, from dining with the Prince, ho was 
 sometimes fain to associate with very different 
 
 VOL. I. H
 
 146 Solomon's ups and downs. 
 
 company. He will be seen now lolling in his 
 carriage, and anon living in an attic ; one day 
 drinking his claret and champagne, and re- 
 lishing his glass of ale another; sometimes 
 courted by all the world, at others despised by it 
 all, and especially by those who owed him most. 
 
 It has already been seen that Solomon was 
 rather a severe lad, but by no means a cold- 
 hearted one. He was careless, and that often 
 brought him into trouble ; sometimes too as- 
 siduous, and that often brought him into 
 more. He was passionate, a terrible failing ; 
 and he was proud, a much greater one. 
 
 When I speak of pride as a failing, I speak 
 of it as a failing in a poor man. — In a rich one 
 it is a recognised virtue. 
 
 What is pride ? — The assumption of supe- 
 riority. Who are those most courted in the 
 world ? — Those who do assume, and especially 
 those who can maintaia this superiority. 
 
 Pride can be, — and often is, — in no country 
 in the world so much as in this, — glossed over
 
 WHAT IS PRIDE? 147 
 
 with an almost enchanting urbanity of man- 
 ner; but inquire, after all, what is going on 
 in the inner man : it is consciousness, or a 
 belief, of superiority, — which is pride. 
 
 Inquire what is going on in the inner man of 
 him who counts it an honour to be known to 
 the proud man ; and it is not only pride, too, 
 but pride arrayed in the garb of humility, pay- 
 ing deference to pride arrayed in the garb of 
 undisguised superiority. 
 
 Before proceeding farther I must introduce 
 the reader to an acquaintance which Solomon 
 made in Llangollen ; and which, simple in its 
 origin, it will be found, in the sequel, had an 
 important influence on his after career. 
 
 There was living in the village of Llan- 
 gollen a Welsh and widow lady of the name 
 of Wynne; and she, like Jephthah, judge of 
 Israel, had — 
 
 " • • • • one fair daughter and no more, 
 The which she loved passing well." 
 
 The family of Mrs. Seesaw, of course, attracted 
 
 H 2
 
 148 THE WIDOW WYNNE. 
 
 some notice in a small Welsh village ; and, at 
 last, it attracted the notice of the greatest 
 personage in the village, Mrs. Wynne. 
 
 Being herself a woman of peculiar and strong 
 character, she was naturally arrested by that of 
 Solomon: insomuch that he became a great 
 favourite, and a constant visitant at her house. 
 
 Mrs. Wynne was a woman of good sense 
 and much penetration; but, with an excel- 
 lent heart, she had the drawback of rather 
 austere manners. She was distant, and, like 
 most Welsh people, rather lofty. Her natu- 
 ral good sense, and really good nature, how- 
 ever, were in constant operation to counteract 
 the haute^ir which was the natural growth of 
 her education and family distinction, rather 
 than the spontaneous production of her heart. 
 She condescended to visit Mrs. Seesaw, got 
 thus acquainted with Solomon, and, from a 
 certain congeniality of temperament, pounced 
 upon him as her favourite. 
 
 As Solomon's departure from Llangollen
 
 ELIZA WYNNE. 149 
 
 drew near, his visits to Mrs. Wynne (after 
 school-hours) became more frequent. 
 
 I say to Mrs. Wynne, because decorum re- 
 quires it ; but the real truth of the matter is 
 that, without almost knowing it himself, he 
 was attracted by a magnetism, of which the 
 hidden power lay, not so much in Mrs, Wynne, 
 as in Miss Eliza Wynne. 
 
 She was " passing fair," and, therefore. 
 Solomon was excusable. Besides, having 
 no such frequent visitor as the young pre- 
 ceptor, — scarcely, indeed, any other, — Eliza 
 got unconsciously so familiar, and grew so 
 kind, as to be led one day to say to Solomon, 
 '' Well, now, Solomon, if I had a brother, 
 you are just the sort of one I should like." 
 
 " Ay," said Solomon, with a sigh, much 
 deeper than usual, '' but I'm going away." 
 
 Eliza cried, and Solomon, turning away his 
 head, cried loo. 
 
 '' Well, but Eliza," said he, " will you not 
 forget me ?"
 
 150 A GARDEN SCENK. 
 
 "Never!" she replied; and they walked 
 slowly round and round the garden, arm-in- 
 arm. 
 
 They tried in vain, however, to dry their 
 tears, till they saw Mrs. Wynne in a distant 
 corner of the garden. 
 
 With something of the fear with which our 
 primeval parents, under a feeling of con- 
 scious delinquency, beheld their sire in Eden, 
 Solomon and Eliza " hid themselves ;" and 
 then, going to a little fount in one of the 
 shrubberies, washed their red eyes, till each 
 told the other '' that they did not look as if 
 they had been crying." 
 
 When they returned to tea, Eliza asked her 
 mother if she would allow her to read to 
 Solomon (as he was now going away) the MS. 
 which she (Eliza) had often read with so much 
 pleasure. 
 
 Eliza sincerely loved her mother, and every- 
 thing connected with her. 
 
 "That is the MS. you mean, my dear/'
 
 A REQUEST GRANTED. 151 
 
 said Mrs. Wynne, "which contains the por- 
 tion of my short history up to the period of 
 our settling here, and my observations upon 
 the two singular ladies who occupied the 
 little Gothic cottage in Merionethshire ?" 
 
 " Yes, mamma," replied Eliza. 
 
 " Oh ! by all means," answered Mrs. Wynne ; 
 it is but fair that Solomon, who has seen 
 so much of us here, should know how we hap- 
 pened to come here. 
 
 *' Only remember that the MS. is headed 
 ' Martha Meredith ;' which Solomon does not 
 perhaps yet know was my maiden name," con- 
 tinued Mrs. Wynne. 
 
 The tea apparatus was then, in seaman's 
 phraseology, "cleared away;" the sashes were 
 drawn; the fire was stirred, and the light of 
 the lamp made brighter. Solomon was seated 
 on the sofa, by the side of Mrs. Wynne, who 
 had her arm familiarly upon his shoulder. 
 
 The beautiful face of Eliza, shaded by a 
 profusion of auburn hair, naturally curled
 
 152 PREPARATIONS TO READ A MS. 
 
 looked like that of Hebe, as, bending over 
 the MS., and immediately under the lamp, 
 a halo overspread her countenance while she 
 read her mother's story, of which the com- 
 mencement will be found in the next chapter.
 
 153 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 The Story of Martha Meredith. 
 
 My father was the venerable head of an 
 ancient and primitive family in a remote 
 county of Wales. 
 
 The education prescribed for his daughters 
 was of a two-fold nature. One part of it was 
 superintended by an excellent mother, and em- 
 braced the elements of English and French 
 grammar, geography, history, drawing, music, 
 dancing, needle-work (especially embroidery) 
 in all its branches, and the general rules and 
 regulations of domestic economy. 
 
 The other part was taught by my father. 
 It consisted in the science and practice of 
 gardening, and the healthful exercises of 
 riding, hawking and archery. 
 
 H 3
 
 154 MARTHA MEREDITH. 
 
 We had a library containing some of the 
 best French and English authors ; and were 
 directed to take our manners from the Spec- 
 tator, and our morals from the Rambler. 
 
 As the best means of obtaining a true 
 knowledge of character, we were advised to 
 be close observers of men and of their actions. 
 
 But to help forward this observation, as 
 well as to give us a taste for good writing 
 and the elements of criticism, we were taught 
 to read and understand La Bru3^ere, La 
 Fontaine, Boileau, Le Sage, and Moliere. 
 My father thought Madame Dacier might be 
 added; but my mother, a woman of great 
 shrewdness and good sense, considered her two 
 sublime and recherchee for us. 
 
 She said she was much too learned, in the 
 technical sense of the phraEO. — She begged my 
 father to remember, that not only had he inter- 
 dicted the study of Latin and Greek, but had 
 very properly resolved that we should neither 
 take our religion from the mythology of Homer,
 
 MARTHA MEREDITH. 155 
 
 nor vitiate our imagination with pagan fables, 
 from the metamorphoses of Ovid. 
 
 Our brother, she said, might be properly 
 allowed to read the Greek poet in the original. 
 "He was training," she observed, '^'for the 
 army; and she had understood there were 
 many good descriptions of battles in Homer, 
 a knowledge of which might be useful in a 
 mihtary career. At the same time, from what 
 little she had read of the Iliad, in Pope's 
 translation, she thought the mode of men's 
 killing each other at the siege of Troy was so 
 different from that introduced by modern 
 science, as to leave it doubtful whether an 
 artillery officer of the present day would derive 
 much benefit from the perusal." 
 
 My mother died, as my sisters and myself 
 were rising to woman's estate. Among other 
 excellent precepts and advice, ratified by 
 her own rigid practice of them, she had left 
 indelibly impressed upon us a just estimate 
 of the beauty of order, diligence, and regula-
 
 156 MARTHA MEREDITH. 
 
 rity in all the mutual relations, and domestic 
 duties of life. She attached great importance 
 to the careful observation of passing events, 
 and to the advantage of drawing cool, dispas- 
 sionate, practical inferences from them. She 
 was of opinion that every incident of every 
 day ought to be converted into a source of 
 personal improvement. 
 
 " It was better," she said, " to be shrewd 
 interpreters of people's thoughts, than mere 
 readers of their speculations." 
 
 " People may write anything," she would 
 add, " but it is not so easy for them to look 
 anything: — when a person speaks to me, I 
 always have my eyes as attentive to his 
 countenance, as my ears to his discourse." 
 
 I was thus trained to practical observation 
 in the first place, and to thougiit and reflec- 
 tion upon that. 
 
 Reading was inculcated, with speculation 
 and deduction from it, rather as an accessory 
 help to knowledge than as a fundamental basis
 
 MARTHA MEREDITH. 157 
 
 of it. The system of my mother, I am sure, 
 was good ; but we lacked field of observation 
 ample enough to give scope to the exercise, 
 which she prescribed, of the mental powers. 
 
 What novel observation, for instance, was 
 I to make upon the daily or weekly hum- drum 
 visits and parties of neighbouring knights and 
 squires, pretty much as Welshified as our- 
 selves ? 
 
 What improvement in conversation was I 
 to expect from the country curate of eighty 
 pounds a-year ? What edification was to be 
 hoped for from the village doctor ? and what 
 practical exhibition of wit, gaiety or good- 
 breeding, from the self-important vacuum 
 that ministered among us in matters of law ? 
 
 We never went to London, and knew no- 
 thing of balls, routs, drawing-rooms, or the 
 opera, but from notices of them in the news- 
 papers, or information given us by those of 
 our guests who spent the season in town. 
 
 The population around us consisted (with
 
 158 MARTHA MEREDITH. 
 
 a sprinkling of nobility) of baronets, knights, 
 squires, and other gentry, like ourselves, chiefly 
 conspicuous for a " long pedigree." We were 
 too much raised above the tenantry to have 
 any sympathies in common with them; and 
 the burgesses of the little towns around us, as 
 my father had no ambition to be a member of 
 parliament, and wanted, therefore, no votes, 
 were of course beneath our notice. 
 
 Thus did I live till I was thirty-five years 
 of age. My venerable father then died ; and 
 my brother, with a wife and large family, took 
 possession of the mansion and domain of his 
 ancestors. 
 
 The wives of brothers who come late in life 
 to the possession of paternal property, are not 
 remarkable for consorting over amicably with 
 the sisters of their husband, whom they find 
 upon the premises. 
 
 My sister-in-law was no exception to the 
 general rule. Of a haughty, imperious tem- 
 per, and at once jealous and impatient of
 
 MARTHA MEREDITH. 159 
 
 any preference or respect shown to another 
 greater than that offered to herself, she liked 
 not the deferential air, and civil attentions, 
 shown to me by domestics who had served, and 
 tenants who had respected, my father for many 
 — many years. 
 
 Indifference, coldness, sometimes rudeness, 
 characterized her conduct toward me. I 
 could not but contrast it with my long ex- 
 perience of the kindness, never interrupted by 
 caprice, and the affection, not abated by years, 
 which I had experienced at the hands of both 
 my parents. 
 
 Even under the large debt of gratitude which 
 I owed to them, however, and with the liveliest 
 sense of their solicitude for my welfare, I had 
 never felt altogether at home at Meredith 
 Hall. 
 
 An independent, masculine, and investigat- 
 ing turn of thought had long made the petty 
 concerns of a country life, and the liabits of 
 country people, appear to me tame and in- 
 significant. With now curtailed authority,
 
 160 MARTHA MEREDITH. 
 
 diminished indulgence, and intimations from 
 my amiable sister-in law — (as unequivocal and 
 frequent as they could well be, compatibly with 
 the coldest rules of civility and decorum) — 
 to be gone, it will not appear surprising if the 
 home of my fathers had become, in my eyes, 
 little better than a hostel. 
 
 In the spirit of a traveller who feels that he 
 has oVer- stayed his time in one place, and in 
 not the best of quarters, I began seriously to 
 consider what should be the next stage of my 
 journey on the great thoroughfare of life. 
 
 I had been left in quite independent circum- 
 stances by an affectionate aunt, who had be- 
 queathed to me, on her death, the bulk of a 
 large fortune. 
 
 I retained a still vivid impression of my ex- 
 cellent mother's practice and admonitions. 
 
 The advantages and defects of the system 
 of education pursued by my parents were 
 pretty obvious in their ciFects, at once upon my 
 mental and physical frame. I had a vigorous 
 constitution, and, albeit a little furrowed in
 
 MARTHA MEREDITH. 161 
 
 certain places, a fresh and ruddy countenance. 
 Many people thought the exercise to which I 
 owed this, of hunting and hawking in a hilly 
 country, was more in unison with my father's 
 love of these sports, than characteristic of fe- 
 male decorum. But he was one of the very 
 few men I have ever known, that without 
 trangressing any law of propriety, honour, rea- 
 son, or humanity, cared absolutely nothing for 
 what other people thought. My temper and 
 disposition were as little soured by the insi- 
 dious encroachments of age, as by the unen- 
 viable condition of spinster. 
 
 I had for some time, by others, been classed 
 with this unpitied portion of our sex ; but 
 I admitted the justice and accuracy of the 
 classification, with as good a grace as pos- 
 sible. I determined not to be ashamed of 
 being old, and had too much contempt for 
 claimants of my years to privileges and atten- 
 tions exclusively due to youth and beauty, to 
 be myself a candidate for any one of them.
 
 162 MARTHA MEREDITH. 
 
 My reading had not been extensive, but it 
 had been tolerably well digested. 
 
 The novels, tales, romances, and other 
 ephemeral works of the day, were excluded 
 from the library ; and in lieu of them were sub- 
 stituted choice volumes of ethics, travels, his- 
 tory, biography, criticism, and the belles lettres. 
 
 Thus trained, with little female society, — 
 having no stage for the exercise of frivolity, 
 and no sphere in which to enact the devotee of 
 fashion, — my mind shot up to a growth as mas- 
 culine and firm as that of my bodily frame. 
 
 I had long desired to become an observer of 
 the wonders of the huge overgrown metropolis 
 of London. 
 
 The resolution once taken, my preparations 
 for realizing this desire were soon made. 
 
 Arrayed in a blue riding-habit, a small hat 
 and veil, and a white cravat around my neck, 
 I stepped into the carriage that was to convey 
 me to town. 
 
 I was accompanied by a female servant
 
 MARTHA MEREDITH. 163 
 
 called Winifred, who had been in the family 
 for twenty years, and was now exactly my own 
 age. My little portfolio was full of letters 
 of introduction from the neighbouring gentry 
 to their friends and relations in London. 
 
 Thus equipped, I bade a not unwilling adieu 
 to Meredith Hall. 
 
 We proceeded slowly along, followed by 
 an old family groom leading my two favourite 
 saddle horses, and driven by a coachman of 
 fifteen years' standing at Meredith Hall.
 
 164 
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 The Story of Martha Meredith continued- 
 Leonora and Priscilla. 
 
 Towards the evening of our second day's 
 journey, we drew near to a romantic village in 
 Merionethshire. 
 
 I had letters of introduction to two fe- 
 male hermits there, called Leonora and 
 Priscilla. 
 
 It is generally known that these two ex- 
 traordinary personages, in a fit of romantic 
 friendship, or of disappointed love, retired, 
 as it is called, from the world. 
 
 But it is not so generally known what rare 
 combinations they were of solitude and seclu- 
 sion, bustle and worldly anxiety. 
 
 I passed a night with them ; and as they
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 165 
 
 have since made their exit from the stage of 
 this world, I shall shortly relate what I ob- 
 served of them and their habits. 
 
 It had been arranged, by previous corre- 
 spondence, on what day, and at what precise 
 hour, I should be at their house. 
 
 I was permitted, therefore, to drive im- 
 mediately to the gate of their gothic cottage, 
 without the ceremony generally exacted from 
 their friends, of sending a note from the 
 village inn, to announce their arrival, and to 
 request permission to call. 
 
 I thought this ceremony savoured a little 
 more of court etiquette than of hermitage sim- 
 plicity. But not stopping to speculate, when I 
 had an opportunity to observe, I had no sooner 
 seen Cadwallader and the horses safely depo- 
 sited at the inn, and given directions for their 
 entertainment for the night, than with Winifred, 
 now quite reconciled to her fate, and my little 
 lap-dog Flounce, I drove to the hermitage. 
 
 The sun was just setting as we reached it ;
 
 166 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 and anything more romantic than the scenery 
 around us, I scarcely ever saw. There was 
 at the same time apparent^, as we entered the 
 gate, a finical neatness and finish about the 
 confined premises, that contrasted in a very 
 old maidenish degree with the noble grandeur 
 beyond their pale. 
 
 The cottage in which Leonora and Priscilla 
 lived had a thatched roof, and was surrounded 
 by a viranda, sustained by oaken supporters, 
 that might have claimed to be rustic, if they 
 had not been varnished like the legs of a 
 French loo table. 
 
 This veranda threw a sombre air over the 
 dwelling, and aided by the creepers which 
 in twined, and the trees which surrounded it, pro- 
 duced an obscurity and shade better calcu- 
 lated for the tropics than for the mountains 
 of Wales. The small gothic windows of the 
 habitation added still further to its lugubrious 
 aspect. The steps by which you entered the 
 hall were so scrupulously clean, and the carved
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 167 
 
 oaken door which opened to it was so bur- 
 nished, that I was afraid of passing a threshold 
 which seemed to be kept so much more for 
 show than for use. 
 
 Not a footstep seemed ever to have soiled 
 the vestibule ; and there was no receptacle 
 in the hall for either hats, bonnets or cloaks. 
 The table that stood there was too like 
 a horizontal looking-glass, to be used by 
 travellers for any one purpose of conveni- 
 ence. 
 
 Two punctiliously-dressed females received 
 me as I entered. One took my cloak and 
 muff, while another ran, in a scream of affright, 
 after my beautiful little Flounce, who, having 
 jumped out of the carriage after me, was now 
 frisking over, and unconsciously fouling the 
 chess-board flooring of the marble-paved hall. 
 Seeing herself pursued, Flounce fled for refuge 
 under the oaken table ; and there, though the 
 most loving creature in existence, began to 
 snarl at her rough treatment.
 
 168 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 Priscilla s maid, in her attempt to lay hold 
 of my glossy pet, fancied herself bitten. 
 
 She screamed ten times louder than before, 
 and in her agitation upset the burnished table, 
 which falling upon Flounce's toe, the little dear 
 yelped most pitiously. 
 
 The cottage rang with the disastrous crash 
 of the valued piece of furniture. 
 
 Meantime Winifred, who had been lifting 
 out of the carriage the various necessary su- 
 perfluities of travelling parure, — dressing- 
 cases, lavender-bottles, oranges, biscuits, bas- 
 kets, shawls, ruifs, reticules, and parasols, — 
 ran, with her arms full of them, into the hall. 
 
 No sooner did she see Flounce limping, 
 and holding up the bruised paw, than, for- 
 getting how she was loaded, she let her 
 burden of accumulated indispensables fall 
 from her arms, and flew to the succour of the 
 weeping beauty of Blenheim. 
 
 Nor was she more pathetic in her waitings 
 over her favourite's misfortune, than uncere-
 
 LEOKORA AND PRISCILLA. 169 
 
 the epithets she bestowed upon the author of 
 it. The fumes of the lavender shed their 
 fragrant influence around ; and, what was 
 worse, the scanty remains of a small bottle of 
 port wine were splashed over three or four of 
 the diamond slabs of Parian marble. The 
 pieces of broken glass that lay around, excited 
 utter dismay in the minds of the disconcerted 
 attendants. For myself, 1 was wound up to a 
 high pitch of agitation ; for all I had seen of 
 the fastidious nicety around, only went to con- 
 firm what I had before heard of the tender 
 irritability and exactness of the recluses in 
 matters of domestic arrangement. 
 
 The drawing-room was on the ground-floor, 
 and a door from the hall ushered you directly 
 into it. This door flew open at the noise occa- 
 sioned by the affi-ay. 
 
 What was my astonishment ! — what my ter- 
 ror ! — on beholding the two figures that issued 
 from it. They were full seventy years of age, 
 and deadly pale, except where a conspicuous 
 
 VOL. I. I
 
 170 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 patch of rouge, having nothing of a natural 
 rose-colour to blend with, looked like a rounded 
 piece of red and wrinkled tree-leaf, laid upon 
 the cheek. It was not rendered less con- 
 spicuous by the pale lips and the frizzled hair, 
 partly grey and partly powdered, which, cut 
 into a globular form, left their heads with 
 much of the appearance of a never -used mop. 
 
 One of the ladies before me had gold spec- 
 tacles on : the other seemed to have no specu- 
 lation, whatever, in the eyes that she did glare 
 with. But she had a ponderous gold chain 
 round her neck, to which was appended an 
 eye-glass of no ordinary dimensions. 
 
 Both ladies wore blue riding-habits, with an 
 immense display under them of scarlet waist- 
 coat. From this protruded an abundant sup- 
 ply of starched and plaited frill. The lapells 
 ot their habits, — like those of gentlemen's 
 coats, — turned back to show the waistcoat. 
 Like it, too, the habits were ornamented in 
 the style of a hussar's jacket, with rows of
 
 N"1IL 
 
 ^^^:?-^^^ 
 
 € 
 
 '^>C^i-€^^.^c,
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 171 
 
 globular brass buttons. These were sewed 
 on in the form of half -moons, and reached 
 from the shoulders to the short-waist of the 
 vesture behind. 
 
 Under the chin, they wore a prodigious roll 
 of muslin cravat, gathered into a large tie in 
 front. Each had a goodly sprinkling of mus- 
 tachios, which made up, by the decided cha- 
 racter, in length and shade, of each individual 
 hair, for the rather scanty manner in which 
 they were strewed upon the upper lip. 
 
 One of the ladies had a large mole, of no 
 distant relationship to the wart species, on the 
 flat part of a not prominent chin. Out of 
 this mole there grew some dozen appendages, 
 more like bristles than hair, and giving her 
 very much the appearance of a nodding Chi- 
 nese mandarin in the window of a tea-shop or 
 shawl-warehouse. 
 
 Gold ear-rings were worn by each, and, from 
 the waist upward, nothing earthly besides at- 
 tested their sex, as far as this country is concerned. 
 
 i2
 
 172 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 Had you met them on the Continent, where 
 men usurp those appendages which here 
 females are exclusively privileged to wear, you 
 could no more have taken Leonora and Pris- 
 cilla for women than you could have taken 
 Marshal Blucher for one. 
 
 A certain flaccidity and rotundity not ob- 
 servable in the countenance of that veteran, 
 characterised the physiognomy of the recluses ; 
 but^ in all other respects, I thought they 
 were not badly represented by the pictures 
 you see of him on enamelled snuff-boxes. 
 There were obvious traces on the mustachios 
 of Leonora and Priscilla of their frequent 
 appeal to the consoling powers of Lundy Foot's 
 mixture. 
 
 Petrified I stood as I beheld the appari- 
 tions before me. They looked like two disin- 
 terred warriors from another world, — stunted 
 representatives of Gog and Magog. 
 
 Afraid as I was of attracting their notice, 1 3^et 
 ventured to make a low and respectful courtesy
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 173 
 
 to them. I was about to explain^, and apolo- 
 gize for the state of uproar and confusion 
 around, when the Amazon with spectacles, 
 not at all regarding me, but addressing her- 
 self to one of the maids, exclaimed, in terrific 
 altitude of voice, — 
 
 " Good God ! Barbara, what is all this ? 
 Why if the house were a dog-kennel, the yelp- 
 ing could not be greater ; and if the hall had 
 been rent by an earthquake, we could have 
 heard no louder noise." 
 
 " Oh ! my Lady," said Barbara, " for God's 
 sake take care of your feet ! The hall-floor is 
 covered with broken glass !" 
 
 Just at this moment, the lady with the eye- 
 glass (who I soon perceived was blind) drew 
 up one of her feet in prodigious haste and 
 anger, — 
 
 " I declare to God," said she, " I am 
 wounded to the quick !" 
 
 I looked towards her, in real anxiety, fear- 
 ing I should see blood. To m}^ surprise and
 
 174 LEONORA AND PRlSCILLA. 
 
 satisfaction, however, I only saw Barbara re- 
 moving from under her mistress's foot the 
 broken bottom of my lavender bottle, on the 
 rounded and innocuous part of which Priscilla 
 had trodden. Scarcely had I obtained some 
 relief on this score, when I beheld Leonora 
 stooping over the disastrous splash of port- 
 wine. 
 
 " Merciful heavens !" she exclaimed, '^w^hat 
 have we got here ? I declare a whole bottle 
 of ink sjjilt upon the hitherto unstained mar- 
 ble. Why, Deborah, Dorothy, which of you 
 has done this ? Come, tell me : none of your 
 hesitations, mouthings, and contradictions, 
 which of you has spilt the ink upon the spot- 
 less Parian?" 
 
 " La ! my lady," said Deborah, " you are 
 quite mistaken : it was'nt us as did it, but this 
 here lady's own maid. And it an't ink, an 
 please your Ladyship, but a bottle of port- 
 wine as has been spillt." 
 
 *' Oh !" said Leonora, rising from her in-
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 175 
 
 cumbent position, biting her lip, and constrain- 
 ing herself, to assume the least irritable air of 
 which, under the circumstances, she was capa- 
 ble, — " Miss Meredith, I presume." 
 
 " Yes," I replied, with as much feigned 
 concern as my wounded pride would permit. 
 *' Sorry I am that my first introduction to you 
 should be marked by so terrible an affray. 
 But really if you could be made to understand 
 how innocently, on my part, and how accident- 
 ally on that of the other culprits, it ori- 
 ginated, I am sure we should all stand ac- 
 quitted by your ladyship's candour and good- 
 nature of any premeditated disturbance or 
 offence." 
 
 " That may be, Miss Meredith," she said, 
 " and I am well inclined to believe that it is so. 
 
 "From all 1 know of your family and con- 
 nexions, I was prepared to find you the pink 
 of decorum, and a pattern of politeness and 
 good sense. But really we are accustomed here 
 to such a quiet life ; our habits are so regular.
 
 176 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 and so little interrupted by any occurrence so 
 extraordinary as this, that you must forgive us if 
 you find us more than usually excited and 
 alarmed. We have been fifty years on this 
 spot ; and I do not know that in all that time, 
 so frightful a scene of havoc and devastation 
 as the one now around us has presented itself 
 to disturb our tranquillity. 
 
 '' But I ask your pardon. I say this rather 
 to account for our trepidation, than to blame 
 or embarrass you : so pray walk into the 
 drawing-room with my cousin, and leave me 
 a little, to arrange matters here." 
 
 There was such a preponderance of rude- 
 ness over civility in this speech, that unless I 
 had been able to make great allowance for the 
 infirmities of age, nursed by fifty years of 
 solitude and self-indulgence into petulance 
 and irritability, I should certainly have driven 
 back to the inn, to spend there a happier 
 evening than I had any prospect of doing 
 where I now was.
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 177 
 
 All things considered, I was content to beg 
 Leonora would allow me to restore to order 
 what I had been the sole cause of disarranging. 
 
 That she should consent to this, I soon per- 
 ceived was a most forlorn expectation. 
 
 I therefore yielded to her command (for it 
 was much more like that, than a request) to 
 accompany Priscilla to the drawing-room. 
 
 As she essayed to lead the way there, she 
 struck her foot against my dressing-box, and 
 stumbled over it. I now saw that the eyes, 
 which I had thought at first were merely without 
 " speculation," were absolutely without vision. 
 
 I hastily advanced to prevent her fall, and offer 
 my arm. '' Thank you. Miss Meredith," she 
 said with a petulance if possible greater than 
 her cousin's, " I suppose you think I am blind. 
 No, no, I can see as well as you : only I was 
 not looking that way ; and to be sure, who 
 expects to find boxes strewed about the hall !" 
 Pending the performance of this melo-drama, 
 Winifred stood immoveably engrossed by the 
 
 I 3
 
 178 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 misfortune of Flounce, mourning over it, and 
 caressing the sufferer. 
 
 This important little personage now ap- 
 peased, however, my maid perceived with hor- 
 ror the beautifully mosaic-wrought box at the 
 feet of the Philistines. 
 
 She rushed forward to its rescue, exclaim- 
 ing, at the same moment, to Priscilla — 
 
 " La ! ma'am, are you blind ? I declare you 
 had well nigh kicked some of the music work, 
 off Miss Martha's box." 
 
 This was the most unfortunate part of the 
 whole adventure. No longer able to preserve 
 the least control over her temper, Priscilla 
 lifted her large eye-glass to her glass-eye, 
 and with a fierce and sudden jerk, moved in 
 the direction quite opposite to that in which 
 Winifred stood. 
 
 The enraged lady and my maid were thus 
 turned back to back. The one was too busily 
 occupied in examination of the box, to be 
 conscious of the storm she had raised in the
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 179 
 
 breast of the other. It broke forth in an indig- 
 nant stamp of Priscilla's foot, andthe following 
 short, but energetic address to vacuity: — 
 
 " You impudent minx, who and what 
 are you that you dare thus to speak to me ? 
 
 "I tell you what it is. Madam, if you don't get 
 out of the Hall, with your abominable dog and 
 box, and leave my servants to put things in 
 that order of which you seem to know so 
 little, I will have you sent back, and your mis- 
 tress into the bargain, to the Inn." 
 
 It was not very difficult to bring Winifred's 
 Welsh blood (as she was ever proud to call 
 it) up to her face. 
 
 Perhaps she had never, in the whole period 
 of her long servitude, experienced an occasion 
 on which she might so reasonably have allowed 
 it free course as on the present. 
 
 Whether consoled by finding the box un- 
 injured, however, or moved to compassion by 
 the melancholy case before her, she contented 
 herself, by saying with great composure, —
 
 180 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 " Well, the poor lady is blind, sure enough. 
 She is speaking to the wall ; but as for the 
 use of an eye-glass for that purpose, it is more 
 than an ignorant woman like I am can under- 
 stand." 
 
 If in a Welsh passion, Winifred had thrown 
 the box at Priscilla's head, I am sure she 
 could not more deeply have wounded her, 
 than by the pungent simplicity of her ill-timed 
 remark. I made all possible haste, therefore, 
 to interfere, and put an end to a scene become 
 now exceedingly painful. I ordered Winifred 
 imperatively to quit the Hall, and to take 
 Flounce and the box with her, 
 
 I then turned to Priscilla, and entreated 
 her to pardon the rudeness and ignorance 
 of my maid. I expressed my deep regret 
 for all that had occurred, and admitted my- 
 self to be the guilty though unwilling cause 
 of it. 
 
 This apology, uttered with very unfeigned 
 concern on my part, and fear of farther dis-
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 181 
 
 agreeable consequences, seemed a little to ap- 
 pease the wrath of these viragos. 
 
 A returning consciousness that they had 
 greatly overstepped the pale of good-breeding, 
 wrought something, perhaps, in my favour. 
 
 Leonora said she believed that both she and 
 her cousin had caught a little of the contagion 
 of Welsh irritability : she condescendingly 
 begged my pardon, and escorted me into the 
 drawing-room. 
 Priscilla followed. 
 
 It was presently announced that the stains 
 of wine were wiped away, that the pieces of 
 broken glass were gathered up, and that the 
 lady's luggage was carried to her bed-room. 
 
 After a few more explanations and mutual 
 apologies, I very gladly availed myself of the 
 suggestion to retire to my room, and dress, 
 after the fatigue of my journey. I found 
 Winifred crying and sobbing there, and 
 Flounce by her side, whining and looking 
 most piteously up in her face.
 
 182 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 "Oh! Miss Martha/' said my Abigail, 
 without waiting for a word from me, " is 
 this what you call seeing the world ? Why, 
 if we meet with such treatment before we 
 cross the borders of Wales, and that from 
 people of quality, who know all about you and 
 your family, what are we to expect when we 
 get to England, where ten to one but half of 
 'em did'nt know the squire that's gone ? 
 
 " I declare those two ladies are more like 
 the hyhenears, as the game-keeper used to 
 tell us about, than human beings. 
 
 " Their maids might be the cubs, for aught 
 I know, of them here animals ; for though 
 they are as sleek as Flounce, they are as fierce 
 as their betters down stairs. Oh ! the gorgeous 
 and hiders dire, as Paradise Lost says." 
 
 Mortified as I was by what had passed, 
 I could not help smiling at the pitch of sub- 
 limity to which, in her sorrow and indignation, 
 Winifred was now soaring. 
 
 She had picked up various scraps and quo-
 
 LliONORA AND PRISCILLA. 183 
 
 tations from the books which she used to 
 borrow from me, and ponder over, more lost 
 in admiration of what she did not comprehend, 
 than edified by what was intelligible. I con- 
 soled her by remarking that the ladies and 
 their maids whom she treated so uncere- 
 moniously, were not to be at all considered as 
 part of the world to which we were going. 
 They were exceptions, I said, quite out of the 
 ordinary way, to the characters to be met with 
 in everyday life. 
 
 Many remarks did she make, homely, but 
 very amusing ; and many reflections had she 
 to offer, loose and unconnected, bat charac- 
 teristic at once of shrewdness and simplicity. 
 It was difficult to stop her when she once set 
 out upon a subject. Her conversation was, 
 " De omnibus rebus, et quibusdam aliis." 
 
 This is one of the few Latin quotations 
 which I learnt from our village lawyer. 
 
 But to return to my subject. 
 
 Winifred being at length appeased, Flounce
 
 184 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 on velvet, and my own toilet made, I rejoined 
 my irritable friends in the drawing-room. 
 
 Having taken an early dinner on the road, 
 I found a sumptuous preparation for me of tea 
 and coffee. 
 
 I found also what I considered of much more 
 importance, my hostesses in bearable humour. 
 
 I could scarcely call it more : it was cer- 
 tainly not the bewitching fascination of hos- 
 pitality ; and for real kindness, I could no 
 more have fancied it in their nature, than I 
 could have expected to find it in Winifred's 
 " hyhenear'' 
 
 Scarcely had I taken the place allotted to 
 me on the sofa, when inquiries, one after 
 another, in close succession, poured in upon 
 me about every family in the vicinity of Mere- 
 dith Hall, and of the adjoining counties. 
 
 I had not time to answer one interrogatory 
 before a second followed. Many of these in- 
 quiries were so minute and inquisitorial, as to 
 fortune, pedigree, prospects of marriage, style
 
 LEO>ORA AND PRISCILLA. 185 
 
 of living, equipage, and extent of mortgage, 
 that I was puzzled alternately to think how 
 such subjects should be interesting to persons 
 situated as the Eecluses were, and how know- 
 ledge so exact could be attained in the retired 
 corner of the world which they occupied. 
 
 I felt myself, as I sat by their side, a com- 
 parative ignoramus of the fortune and affairs 
 of even those who, from the remotest period 
 to which memory carried me back, had been 
 my immediate neighbours. 
 
 They were astonished at my ignorance. 
 
 T was not less so at their knowledge; for 
 when they had ransacked the history of every 
 family of the least note ^vithin the compass of 
 my acquaintance, they flew off in directions 
 east, west, north and south, and showed an 
 equally intimate knowledge of the details, 
 historical and domestic, of every family of dis- 
 tinction in the United Kingdom. 
 
 They finished by declaring it absolutely 
 necessary that, as a first step toward any at-
 
 186 LEONORA Af^D PRISCILLA. 
 
 tempt on my part to mingle with people of 
 fashion, I should study the " Court Guide and 
 Journal/' and the '' Morning Post/' of the 
 last three years, at least. They recommended 
 me to read "' Debrett's Peerage/' and some 
 other more detailed account of the aristocracy 
 of Great Britain, so as to have it at my 
 finger ends. They advised me to get an in- 
 troduction to one of the Lady Patronesses at 
 Almack's, and to the Usher of the Black Rod. 
 
 Both of them, they added, could give me a 
 great deal of information, as well about those 
 whose acquaintance it would be desirable to 
 cultivate, as about those whom it would be de- 
 cidedly better at once to avoid. 
 
 They assured me that my whole future 
 welfare and comfort in society depended upon 
 the manner in which I should conduct my 
 debut. 
 
 In proportion as they discovered me to be 
 a novice in the fastidious science of fashion 
 and high life, their air of protection and self-
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 187 
 
 importance became more significant, and their 
 tone of instruction, — advice, — compassion, — 
 more and more prononce. 
 
 They ended by being most obhgingly dicta- 
 torial. 
 
 I Hstened without a remark or reply. 
 
 Any attempt to indulge in either would have 
 been fruitless, so incessant was the fire kept up 
 upon my right ear and upon my left by those 
 two great guns of fashionable gabble. 
 
 They made, before they had done, so terrible 
 a breach in my patience, that I determined to 
 effect a capitulation. I intimated as broadly as 
 several yawns could do, my desire for a truce. 
 They perceived the distress to which I was 
 brought by their play upon me of the heavy 
 artillery of the tongue; and they inferred my 
 desire to quit the field of action, if I might be 
 allowed to retreat unmolested to my sleeping 
 quarters for the night. 
 
 Leonora addressed herself to me, accord- 
 ingly, and said, " You are no doubt tired.
 
 188 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 Miss Meredith, from the fatigue of your 
 journey ; and though I had a great many more 
 things to say that would have been exceedingly 
 useful to you, on occasion of making your 
 appearance m the great world, yet as you seem 
 sleepy, you shall withdraw. 
 
 '' We cannot allow you to go, however, with- 
 out seeing our Bijouterie, and choice cabinet 
 of curiosities. It is a privilege we extend 
 only to very particular friends, and to travellers, 
 who like you, have been recommended to us 
 by persons we highly regard. If we did not 
 thus restrict ourselves, our time would be 
 quite engrossed by the number of people 
 (and they too very respectably introduced) who 
 daily apply for permission to view our sanctum 
 sanctorum, as we call it." 
 
 Hard and unexpected as this new condition 
 in the treaty of capitulation was, I not only 
 yielded to it, as a matter of bien- seance, but 
 expressed my sense of the obligation conferred. 
 
 I was led captive from table to table in the
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 189 
 
 small Gothic drawing-room, and constrained 
 to hear the history of the innumerable speci- 
 mens that overspread them, of shells, minerals, 
 china, snuflf-boxes, gold rings, Peruvian filla- 
 gree, architectural models, small marble vases, 
 alabaster groups and statues, ivory, ebony, and 
 mosaic work. 
 
 Here was a blood-stone presented by His 
 Grace the Duke of D , and there an an- 
 tique bust of Socrates, the gift of the Duke 
 of B . 
 
 My attention was particularly called to a 
 small grotto of moss and shells, said to be an 
 exact model of that of Calypso, and to several 
 gold coins of the reign of Vespasian, dug up 
 from the ruins of Jerusalem, after its over- 
 throw by Titus. 
 
 There were several pairs of Chinese slip- 
 pers, fans of parrot's feathers used by the wild 
 Indians, and antedeluvian specimens of petri- 
 faction. 
 
 One and all of these, and innumerably more
 
 190 LEONORA AKD PRISCILLA. 
 
 articles of antiquity and vertu, had been the 
 gifts of some noble lord, of some particular 
 friend of a countess, or of some celebrated phi- 
 losopher or traveller. 
 
 I could have been content to hear the ficti- 
 tious history of the various presents : but I was 
 compelled to listen, also, to the authentic and 
 rather fatiguing biography of the various 
 donors. 
 
 From the tables and cabinets, my attention 
 was requested to the pictures hung upon the 
 walls. They were mostly small landscapes, 
 Dutch scenes of rustic life, representations of 
 the holy family and other Biblical subjects, 
 and miniatures. 
 
 There was scarcely a great painter, who had 
 ever painted a small picture, that was not 
 named as the master by whom one or other of 
 the collection before me had been executed. 
 
 Many of the miniatures were said to be those 
 of distinguished personages, from the reign of 
 Henry VIII. downwards. They were generally
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 191 
 
 those of the relations — from the nearest to the 
 remotest degree of consanguinity, — of their 
 own families. 
 
 Conspicuous among them was one of the last 
 Duke of O . 
 
 Fatigued almost to death, by the endless 
 and most uninteresting details of vanity and 
 egotism to which I was subjected, I flattered 
 myself that now, at last, I was about to be re- 
 leased, and allowed to make good my stipulated 
 retreat. 
 
 I was mistaken. — 
 
 " Dear Miss Meredith," said Leonora, " we 
 are so anxious to do all honour to our friends 
 the Wynnes, who have written to us so par- 
 ticularly about you, that we must show you our 
 rare and original specimens of autographs and 
 seal-impressions. 
 
 '' I believe we may safely assure you, that, 
 except in the office of Clarencieux king-at- 
 arms, there is not such another collection in the 
 kingdom."
 
 192 LEONORA A^D PRISCILLA. 
 
 I nearly fainted at the announcement; but 
 no sooner was it made, than open flew the 
 small folding-doors of a rich ebony cabinet, 
 displaying, to my utter consternation, — what ? 
 why, twenty-six partitions, each labelled with 
 a black capital letter of the alphabet, set in 
 white ivory. 
 
 In every partition there was an enormous 
 packet of envelopes of letters. 
 
 By the side of each of these stood a small 
 mahogany box, containing uncountable num- 
 bers of seal impressions on wax, in endless 
 contrast of sombre black and glaring red. 
 
 They were arranged, and cut off* their re- 
 spective franks, with as much nicety as if they 
 had been for exhibition in the window of the 
 costly seal-engraver in Pali-Mall. 
 
 Overpowered by the anticipation of being 
 obliged to examine, in detail, such a deposit 
 of insipidity, I said: " Why, Lady Prisciila, 
 there seems to be subject for curious and 
 edifying research here, for a month, at least.
 
 LEONORA AND PRTSCILLA. 193 
 
 " I am truly sorry that the fatigue of the day, 
 and the necessity of starting early in the morn- 
 ing, unfit me properly for the examining or ap- 
 preciating of the interesting exhibition which you 
 have so kindly thrown open for my inspection. 
 
 " If you will just favour me with a sight of two 
 or three of the signatures, coronets and sup- 
 porters of dukes and marquises, T shall feel 
 greatly obliged. I must, then, with whatever 
 reluctance, wish you good night. I am afraid 
 I have already been a sadly stupid guest : but 
 I am indeed quite overpowered by sleep and 
 fatigue." 
 
 In pettish and reluctant acquiescence, her 
 ladyship consented to my request. I strained 
 every effort to keep my eyes open for inspec- 
 tion of a few illegible signatures, which it was 
 their triumphant pleasure, after puzzling me 
 for five minutes with each, to decipher. While 
 nodding over a royal seal, with the novel sup- 
 porters of a lion-rampant, in fierce opposition 
 to the unicorn, I was brought to my senses by 
 
 VOL. I. K
 
 194 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 
 
 a very awalcening appeal to my side from the 
 elbow of the blind Leonora. 
 
 She took from her eye-glass a seal with a 
 crown on it, supported by a hand dexter, and 
 desired I would observe the delicate accuracy 
 of the impression. 
 
 This was too much. My temper, though not 
 irascible, in the Welsh sense of the phrase, 
 had now been pushed to the utmost verge of 
 endurance. I rose up, took my bed-room 
 taper, and politely, yet most determinedly said 
 — " I really must go to bed ?" 
 
 ''You will surely breakfast with us before 
 you go," said Leonora. " We will then take 
 you for a short walk over our grounds ; you 
 must see them. 1 assure you they are con- 
 sidered, on a small scale, the finest in Eng- 
 land." 
 
 ♦' Thank your ladyship," I replied ; " I really 
 cannot stay, even for so interesting a purpose as 
 that. 
 
 ''lam to dine at S Park; and, at my
 
 LEONORA AND PRISCILLA. 195 
 
 slow rate of travelling, with my own horses, I 
 cannot possibly reach it in time, if I breakfast 
 here. I would not, on any account, disturb 
 you at the early hour at which I intend to de- 
 part. Besides, my arrangements were all made, 
 before I came here, to breakfast at the inn at 
 seven o'clock, and leave immediately after- 
 wards." 
 
 " Well," replied she, '' since you are really 
 determined to go, the gardener shall be ready 
 to take you to just one or two of the pretty 
 spots on the grounds. I will put up for you 
 the Morning Post for the last fortnight, which 
 he will give you : but be sure you send it 
 back ; for we keep it filed, and would not lose 
 a number of it for the world." 
 
 I curtsied assent, and took my thankful de- 
 parture from such an infliction of unbearable 
 thraldrom and chilling impertinence, as, hav- 
 ing never experienced before, I do not think 
 it possible I should ever be subjected to again. 
 
 k2
 
 196 
 
 CHAPTER XL 
 
 The story of Martha Meredith concluded, 
 
 I DID look at the grounds before I drove to 
 the inn. Though laid down in a situation the 
 most romantic and beautiful, they partook of 
 the character of all I had seen within. 
 
 There were narrow walks, clipped trees, 
 pretty peeps, here a little summer-house, and 
 there a convenient seat ; in one corner a dairy, 
 and in another a green plot, with posts for 
 drying clothes. There were two large fields 
 with cows in them, close by the house, and a 
 little garden for strawberries, gooseberries, 
 flowers, and wall-fruit. There was a kitchen- 
 garden behind this, and immediately round 
 the cottage some small patches of shrubbery, 
 with here and there a few flower-borders.
 
 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 197 
 
 Such were the artificial features of the 
 ** finest grounds in England." For the 
 natural ones, they were scarcely to be spoiled, 
 even by finical art. But to give an idea of 
 the way in which this had intruded upon the 
 surrounding grandeur, and wild native sce- 
 nery of the place, I may mention one little 
 incident, 
 
 I was conducted by the gardener to the 
 excavation of a rock, on a precipice that 
 overlooked the dashing fall of the river, as 
 coming out from the bridge, it formed itself 
 into boiling pools and foaming eddies be- 
 neath my feet. The spray, as it rose above 
 the stream, was bespangled by the morning 
 sun, with all the brilliant colours of the 
 rainbow. Engrossed by the magnificence 
 and beauty of the scene, I did not at first 
 perceive that the recess in which I stood was 
 not only inlaid with moss and shells, but 
 that it contained a library of small neatly- 
 bound volumes, arranged upon rosewood
 
 198 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 
 
 shelves. As I withdrew a little tome, entitled 
 Abelard and Eloise, out from a nest quite 
 near it flew a robin, leaving behind him 
 five gaping unfledged young ones. They 
 opened their beaks, and stretched forth their 
 forked tongues from long transparent bare 
 necks, in such contentious importunity for 
 food, that my impressions of the sublime and 
 beautiful were completely scared away. I 
 went forth from the premises convinced that 
 of all persons ever engaged in laying out 
 grounds, the least competent are spinsters. 
 
 As I sat down to breakfast, once more 
 in independence, at the pretty inn of the 
 village, I felt as if I had recovered from along 
 and dreadful nightmare. 
 
 A smoking dish of small trout, just from the 
 stream, was uncovered before me ; and by the 
 side of it stood a coffee-pot sending forth 
 its fragrant steam. An old Welsh harper 
 was playing one of his wild mountain melodies 
 in the hall. The river which I had just seen
 
 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 199 
 
 foaming beneath me, was now gliding away 
 in gentle silence under my window, from the 
 noise and tumult of the cataracts above. 
 Flounce was sitting on her hind legs begging 
 for a piece of muffin. All was right with 
 Winifred, who admired as much the civility 
 of the chambermaids at the inn, as she 
 deprecated the ferocity of those at the her- 
 mitage. My carriage-horses were in good 
 order, and my coachman in good humour ; 
 while Cadwallader praised the hostlers, and 
 turned out Nell and Sir Watkin in excellent 
 order, and in all their paraphernalia of travel- 
 ling dress. 
 
 I had never been accustomed to rise at 
 six o'clock in spring and summer. It was now 
 the middle of May, and one of its finest 
 mornings. There was a freshness and exhila- 
 ration in the air, a stir and bustle in the pre- 
 parations for departure, and a primitive sim- 
 plicity about the inn, that contrasted most 
 agreeably with the cumbrous and artificial
 
 200 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 
 
 restraint under which I had been laid for so 
 many preceding hours. 
 
 As I was rising to go, the waiter respectfully 
 entreated that I would enter my name with any 
 remark I might condescend to make, in the 
 visiting- book. 
 
 At the same time, he outspread before me 
 a quarto volume of manuscript, nearly con- 
 cluded. 
 
 On hastily glancing over its contents, I 
 found them to consist of names innumerable, 
 and specimens of autography as various as 
 the names. 
 
 There were several princes of Saxe Coburg, 
 Saxe Gotha, and Saxe Meinengen. There 
 were vicars, rectors and reverends without end ; 
 baronets, and sirs who were no baronets ; and 
 crowds of lawyers, honourables, and colonels, 
 on their way from Ireland. 
 
 There were merchants from Liverpool, 
 and Londoners from Cheapside ; there was 
 Mr. S (whom 1 took for somebody) of
 
 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 201 
 
 S Hall ; and Mrs. N -(whom 1 set 
 
 down for nobody) of N Priory, with her 
 
 four daughters, on a tour. 
 
 By the side of a foreign count stood a 
 Manchester manufacturer; and between an 
 English marquis and an Austrian prince, were 
 two Highland gentlemen from the Orkneys, 
 — with conspicuous designations of themselve.s, 
 by their lands. 
 
 In compliance with the waiter's request, 
 and with a custom authorized by the many 
 personages, great and small, who had pre- 
 ceded me, I recorded myself as, '' Martha 
 Meredith, on a tour of observation." 
 
 As I closed the volume I could not but 
 think of that restless propensity in our nature 
 to court notoriety. 
 
 I here saw the names of those who having 
 sought glory and distinction " in the cannon's 
 mouth," and found it, still desired to leave, 
 by their signature, a memento of it on the 
 perishing records of a village inn ; while others, 
 
 k3
 
 202 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 
 
 not less important, perhaps, in their own eyes, 
 had, like myself, entered names, whose only 
 claim to celebrity was, that those who bore 
 them were on a tour, or had rocks and hills 
 in the Hebrides. 
 
 All being now ready for departure, my 
 little cavalcade moved away in slow proces- 
 sion from the obsequious landlord, curtsying 
 landlady, bowing waiters and hostlers, and 
 groups of little idle urchins who surrounded 
 the carriage. As we ascended the hill which 
 overlooks the valley, I caught a parting view 
 of the solitary cottage, at which I had passed 
 the night. I could not help thinking what 
 a long draught of the bitterest waters of life 
 the two inmates of it had prepared for them- 
 selves. They had retired, in a momentary fit 
 of romance or of disgust, from a world they 
 loved ; and feelings of shame or of pride had 
 prevented their return to the society of their 
 friends, and to the momentous gossip of 
 fashionable life. Their tempers were soured
 
 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 203 
 
 by a solitude abhorrent to them ; and their 
 invention, for fifty years, had been on the 
 rack to procure, in a region of frigid monotony, 
 excitement and amusement. 
 
 They had found no remedy for their case, 
 but to bring to them the world to which they 
 could no longer go. They had passed their 
 lives in apparent seclusion, but in reality more 
 absorbed by the petty passing occurrences of 
 fashionable drudgery, than if they had 
 been practically the most enslaved of its 
 votaries. 
 
 These, in many cases, are sooner or later 
 overtaken by satiety ; but satiety has no 
 healing virtue for diseased imagination, 
 long-indulged irritability, or fastidious self- 
 importance. They strengthen and grow by 
 the food which their own tortuous ingenuity 
 ministers to them : they take a root of gall 
 downward, and bear the fruit of bitterness 
 upwards ; and when the physical frame, 
 stretched upon the bed of death, is too feeble
 
 204 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 
 
 to convey to its mouth the sustenance neces- 
 sary to preserve life, the irritable temper 
 within shall still be able to cater for its sup- 
 ply, and quarrel with the very hand of kind- 
 ness and solicitude, which lifts to the quiver- 
 ing lips the last nourishment that is to pass 
 them on this side of the grave. 
 
 Peace, however, to the manes of the Re- 
 cluses ! may they have found, in another 
 world, the happiness they never experienced, 
 and which it is in vain to imagine that mere 
 seclusion ever can confer, in this. 
 
 Nothing remarkable occurred during the 
 rest of my journey to town. I travelled by 
 easy stages of thirty miles a-day, as well to 
 spare my horses, as to give Winifred and my- 
 self an opportunity of seeing the country. 
 
 I never could understand the delight people 
 take in scouring the kingdom, on their excur- 
 sions of pleasure, as if they were travelling on 
 affairs of life and death. They shall pass 
 through Warwick without seeing the castle.
 
 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 205 
 
 and through Shrewsbury, without more than a 
 glimpse, while they change horses, at the Ca- 
 thedral. If they manage to dine at Oxford, 
 they have just time to see the hall, library, and 
 chapel of Oriel; if at Cambridge, they are 
 content to spend a hasty half-hour in the 
 Fitzwilliam Museum, and ten minutes in 
 King's College chapel. 
 
 The noblest mansions, the most lovely land- 
 scapes, and magnificent park scenery which they 
 pass, are viewed from the carriage, as rapidly 
 as the short description of them is read in the 
 Book of Roads. I have known persons who 
 having passed through almost every town of 
 any note in the kingdom, could give me no 
 distinct account of any one of them. They 
 had gone, perhaps, to shoot grouse in the 
 north, or to visit the lakes in Cumberland, 
 or to see StaiFa and lona. As well might they 
 have sailed on the open sea as have travelled 
 by land to the respective objects of their 
 interest or curiosity, so complete a blank to 
 them had been every intervening spot.
 
 206 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 
 
 Winifred and I took matters more quietly, 
 and proceeded more inquiringly. 
 
 Whether we are to be set down for this as 
 mere novices, or philosophic observers, I know 
 not ; but I am well assured of the truth of my 
 mother's theory, that one hour's observation is 
 worth many hours' reading, especially where 
 objects of sense are concerned. I acted upon it 
 accordingly. 
 
 Who ever read a description of Westminster 
 Abbey, or of the Minster at York, that realized 
 to him the intense complexity of feeling ex- 
 perienced on a view of the grand whole, or the 
 vivid accuracy of impression conveyed by an 
 examination of the interesting details of those 
 noble monuments of human skill and in- 
 genuity ? 
 
 And with regard to men and manners, what 
 mere reader of books ever understood or de- 
 scribed them to the life ? What description, 
 even of the most acute observers, ever realized 
 to their readers the inspiring thoughts and 
 feelings, which gave rise in themselves to the 
 
 i
 
 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 207 
 
 graphic portraiture, the touching characteristic, 
 the accurate, minute dehneation, or the glowing, 
 energetic development of the passions which 
 agitate, and of the reason which exalts our 
 nature? 
 
 Every one has heard that one of the ora- 
 tions of Demosthenes, when read by a contem- 
 porary of his to some of the Grecian youth, 
 brought tears into their eyes. 
 
 " Ah !" said the reader, " what would have 
 been your emotions, had you heard the orator 
 himself deliver what I so tamely read?'' 
 
 On the principles just stated, I heard and 
 saw all I could on my way to town, 
 
 I was prepared, on entering it, for sen- 
 sations of the vast and wonderful ; but what 
 I saw so far outstripped all plausible antici- 
 pation, as to leave quite uppermost a feeling 
 of dizzy bewilderment. 
 
 I had sent on my own coachman, carriage, 
 and saddle-horses the day before I approached 
 the metropolis of the world ; and I was now
 
 208 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 
 
 driven by a post-boy with the rapidity of 
 lightning, through streets filled with inter- 
 minable lines of vehicles of every descrip- 
 tion. 
 
 Onward they moved, in rude, noisy, voci- 
 ferous din, and in most determined progress, 
 through obstacles which, to uninitiated eyes, 
 appeared absolutely insurmountable. 
 
 Winifred repeatedly exclaimed, — 
 
 "Lord have mercy upon us!" and ''Oh! 
 Miss Martha, call out to the post-boy to 
 stop !" 
 
 As we grazed the wheels of a furious omni- 
 bus, she laid convulsive hold of me; and 
 shortly afterwards, when in irresistible en- 
 counter with a reeling cab, we shook to the 
 very centre every brittle element of it, my maid, 
 no longer able to contain, thrust her head 
 out of the window, and called aloud for help. 
 
 I was glad to be soon afterwards set down 
 in the lodgings which had been temporarily 
 taken for me in Brook Street.
 
 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 209 
 
 One London season so completely satisfied, 
 or rather satiated me, that I resolved to break 
 up my establishment there, and remove to the 
 country. 
 
 Before I determined where I should finally 
 fix my abode, I went to Harrowgate, and there 
 spent a month for the recovery of that health, 
 and the recruiting of those spirits, both of 
 which had been so tried by my short campaign 
 in town. 
 
 At Harrowgate, to my great surprise, I 
 met Mr. Wynne, a gentleman of good family 
 in my own country, and who had paid his 
 addresses to me ten years before, but was 
 rejected by my parents on account of what 
 they considered his too small fortune. 
 
 About that time^ my aunt's legacy was left 
 to me, and gave rise to great hopes on the part 
 of my parents, as to the rich alliance which 
 such a fortune would enable me to make. 
 
 They hinted this, and suggested an intimate 
 and wealthy friend of the family as a suitable 
 person for my husband.
 
 210 MARTHA Meredith's story concluded. 
 
 I told them respectfully, yet firmly, that, 
 having relinquished Mr. Wynne, rather than 
 break through a resolution I had made, and a 
 promise I had given, in early life, not to marry 
 without their consent, I could yield no more. 
 I confessed that Mr. Wynne had obtained my 
 affections ; and expressed my determination 
 not to listen, for the present, to proposals of 
 marriage from any quarter whatever. 
 
 Both parents were too reasonable and dis- 
 creet to urge another word. Mr. Wynne had 
 gone to the Continent for economy; and I 
 remained at home till I was classified, at 
 thirty-five, as an old maid, and left it under 
 the circumstances I have described. 
 
 Mr. Wynne now lived at the same hotel at 
 which I was : he renewed his suit, obtained 
 my hand, and Eliza was the first and only 
 fruit of our marriage. 
 
 Five years after this, Mr. Wynne died. 
 Determined thenceforward to devote my whole 
 time to the education of my only daughter, I 
 took up my abode on this spot which I
 
 Solomon's farewell. 211 
 
 had always admired, and in this cottage, so 
 beautifully situated, and of which the grounds 
 so harmonize with the surrounding scenery, 
 as to make them look like one beautiful part 
 of a magnificent whole. 
 
 Here I am, probably, for life. 
 
 Eliza thus concluded the little sketch 
 which her mother had drawn of her life ; and 
 lifting her eyes from the MS., and turning 
 them artlessly, but full of animation, upon 
 Solomon, asked him " How he liked it? ' 
 
 But Solomon had been suddenly seized, 
 and was wholly absorbed, by feelings of so 
 complicated, novel, and agitating a character, 
 that, delightful as the scene to him was, and 
 charmed as he was by the story, he could only 
 find utterance for, — 
 
 " I like it exceedingly ;" and this sentence, 
 short as it is, was uttered very incoherently. 
 
 Though happier than he had ever felt in his 
 life, he hastened to take his hat, and say, — 
 
 '' Adieu !"
 
 212 Solomon's farewell. 
 
 Eliza was less agitated, but not less pleased ; 
 and she shook Solomon kindly by the hand 
 before she wished him good night. 
 
 All this could not escape the penetrating 
 glance and experienced observation of Mrs. 
 Wynne; but as she had a great regard for 
 Solomon, and knew that he was to leave 
 Llangollen in two days to push his fortune in 
 the world; as he was only sixteen, and her 
 daughter just fifteen, she felt no uneasiness 
 on perceiving the evidently incipient affection 
 between them that had taken place. She 
 viewed it as a youthful and romantic ebullition, 
 which, in a few months, perhaps weeks, would 
 evaporate on both sides.
 
 213 
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 Solomon takes his departure from Llangollen ; and arrives at 
 Glasgow — He here falls in with an old Gentleman and a com- 
 pany of Bagmen — The House of Messrs. Macmunny,Tnrnit, 
 Turnit and Co. 
 
 All was now bustle and preparation for the 
 departure of Solomon from his native home. 
 His little trunk and portmanteau were well 
 stocked with linen and woollen clothing: a 
 few jars of marmalade were packed in one 
 corner, and some jam and black-currant jelly 
 in another. There was plenty of new flannel 
 to serve as a preventive of rheumatism, or to 
 operate the cure of it. He bade a sobbing 
 adieu to his own family ; and then proceeded, 
 with a heart weighed down as with a load of 
 lead, to undergo the more trying ordeal of 
 saying farewell to Mrs. Wynne and Eliza.
 
 214 Solomon's departure. 
 
 The coach was to take him up at the end of 
 the lane which led to their cottage. 
 
 But when Solomon reached the gate, he 
 had no courage to pull the bell. The certainty 
 that he was now going to see his friends for 
 the last time nearly overpowered him. He 
 became spell-bound ; and as he stood absorbed 
 in his own thoughts, a very monument of grief, 
 and in a state of complete indecision, his 
 brother came running up to him in breathless 
 haste, told him the coach was at the end of the 
 lane, and that the coachman threatened to 
 drive off without him. 
 
 Seeing Solomon in such a " swithering state/' 
 as he called it, Tammy laid hold of his arm, 
 and dragged his reluctant passenger toward 
 the coach. 
 
 Just at this moment Eliza happened to pass 
 the gate, and seeing the two brothers running 
 off in such haste, she concluded that the hour 
 of Solomon's departure was come. 
 
 On the impulse of the moment, having simply
 
 Solomon's departure. 215 
 
 herbonnet on, she rushed through the gateway 
 and followed at her full speed our sorrowful 
 traveller. He saw not who was behind in the 
 distance, or he would assuredly have grown 
 restive, and refused to proceed on his journey 
 that day. 
 
 As they came within sight of the coach, the 
 two brothers perceived the horses moving on- 
 wards at a walk, which promised soon to be a 
 trot. They increased their speed ; and flushed 
 and out of breath overtook the vehicle, just in 
 time for Solomon to scramble with all his might, 
 half pushed by his brother, and half drawn by 
 the coachman, up to the box-seat. 
 
 Poor Eliza: she too, in breathless haste, 
 soon came to the spot from which the coach 
 had started ; but it was now proceeding at a 
 rapid pace, and all she could do was to wave 
 her handkerchief, and sob out : " God bless 
 you." She then covered her face with it, and 
 steeped it in her tears. 
 
 Solomon, who had been looking back from
 
 216 Solomon's departure. 
 
 the moment he got into his seat, saw her dis- 
 tress, answered her signal, and in a moment, 
 the coach turning a corner of the road, was 
 out of sight. 
 
 Eliza returned home slowly, — cheerless, — 
 disconsolate. Solomon proceeded quickly, but 
 was only made more sorrowful by the rapidity 
 of his pace. 
 
 As he passed in rapid succession, and with 
 dazzling impetuosity, the woods, cottages, 
 hedges, and hedge-row trees which skirted on 
 either side his line of route, his eyes grew dim, 
 and his senses became bewildered. He felt 
 that he was leaving all that was dear to him, 
 and he knew that he was rapidly speeding 
 from all that were known to him in the 
 world. 
 
 All the entreaties of the good-natured 
 coachman, — moved to compassion by his ap- 
 parently disconsolate state, — could not win 
 even his momentary attention from his grief 
 to the contemplation of any one of the different
 
 Solomon's departure. 217 
 
 beautiful scenes and places pointed out to 
 him on the road. 
 
 He reached his first night's resting-place; 
 and asking immediately for a candle, rushed 
 up to his bedroom, where he gave unbounded 
 scope to his grief. 
 
 If it be true, however, in all cases, that 
 ''sorrow may endure for a night, but joy 
 cometh in the morning," it is emphatically 
 true of youth. 
 
 In boyhood, our feelings, — yet unchastened 
 by experience, — ^buoyant, lively, sensitive, — 
 will burst forth, and make us miserable for 
 an hour. But still there is in them a 
 natural and a happy tendency to be speedily 
 becalmed: the storm becomes gradually 
 soothed and allayed, — till, spent, and indeed 
 hushed, by a night's violence, all on the 
 morrow is placid, tranquil, and serene. 
 
 Thus it was with Solomon. He went to 
 bed in a fit of restlessness and turbulence, — 
 
 VOL. I. L
 
 218 ARRIVAL AT GLASGOW. 
 
 he arose in the morning composed, quiet, and 
 subdued. 
 
 On the third day from that of his leaving 
 Llangollen, he arrived at the George Inn, 
 Glasgow. 
 
 He had come to this place with a few 
 guineas in his pocket, on the strength of a 
 letter of introduction which he had from a 
 friend of the family, to the firm of Messrs. 
 Macmunny, Turnit, Turnit, and Co., who had 
 pl'omised that he should have a situation in 
 an extensiv^e mercantile house which they were 
 about to establish in Calcutta. 
 
 There was staying at the same hotel at 
 which Solomon stopped, an old gentleman of 
 fashionable demeanour and appearance. 
 
 He was about sixty- five years of age. His 
 locks were scanty, thin, and grey: but his 
 countenance, which must originally have been 
 a handsome one, was overclouded by the com- 
 bined expressions of sorrow, peevishness, an 
 regret. He was irritable, fidgety, ill at ease
 
 THE OLD GENTLEMAN. 219 
 
 though these symptoms of what was going on 
 within were all under the control, to a re- 
 markable extent, of unobtrusiveness and good 
 breeding. 
 
 He was evidently and altogether above the 
 company assembled at breakfast in the large, 
 but comfortless parlour of the inn. 
 
 It looked like an eating room converted into 
 a bazaar. 
 
 The old gentleman and Solomon were sur- 
 rounded by a dozen strange and busy faces, 
 all intent upon eating, but apparently still 
 more anxious about business. They were 
 what is technically styled " Travellers," or 
 " Bagmen ;" and much were both the old gen- 
 tleman and the young Solomon astonished to 
 hear what interest might be taken in muslins, 
 calicoes, cambrics, and accounts. 
 
 Their breakfast companions (for they were 
 all seated at one common table) were full of 
 the importance they attached to their several 
 errands, and specific vocations. 
 
 l2
 
 220 COMPANY OF BAGMEN. 
 
 - One man was commissioned from Birming- 
 ham to solicit orders for buttons and razors, — 
 another from Yorkshire to dispose of the best 
 broad cloth in the county. There were men 
 with pattern cards of every sort of thing of the 
 newest invention ; and greatcoats, hats, whips, 
 gig- seats, umbrellas, dreadnoughts, glazed 
 capes and brown paper parcels of every dimen- 
 sion lay strewed about the room. 
 
 The several owners of them talked and 
 busied themselves incessantly about one thing 
 or other. Here was one writing ; there, 
 another spread ing out a new pattern ; a third was 
 packing his small portmanteau ; and a fourth, 
 with many airs, was brushing his coat. 
 
 The majority, however, were eating their 
 breakfast with an avidity and appetite quite 
 surprising, as they talked about the cheer of 
 the different inns at which they had lodged^ 
 and lamented how rare a thing it was to fall 
 in with an honest hostler. 
 
 But what surprised the old gentleman more
 
 COMPANY OF BAGMEN. 221 
 
 than all this was to observe Solomon seated at 
 a corner of the breakfast-table, and, with great 
 nonchalance, eating, at snatches, his evidently 
 relished, though much disturbed, meal. His 
 ears pricked up at every word, his eyes turned 
 round at every uncouth sentence pronounced. 
 The old gentleman took an interest in the lad, 
 especially as he seemed to be regarded by the 
 bagmen as little better than a dog in the room. 
 Not one of them spoke to him, but in a tone 
 that he did not seem to like ; nor did any of 
 them offer to help him, but in a way that he 
 appeared little to relish. The old gentleman 
 drew his chair close to Solomon's; and en- 
 deavoured to get into his confidence by kind- 
 ness and civility. 
 
 He succeeded. 
 
 Meantime, a various gibberish was falling 
 upon their ears of the different dialects of 
 Yorkshire, Lancashire, and Somersetshire, with 
 cockney ''wariations" about "that 'ere cold 
 weal," and a little '' am" to it ; and about 
 " pulling hup the vinder for a little hair."
 
 222 
 
 COMPANY OF BAGMEN. 
 
 One of the bagmen at length addressed 
 Solomon, in rather a magisterial tone, and 
 the following dialogue ensued. 
 
 Bagman. — " Veil, my young feller, come to 
 Glasker fera college hedicashun, I zuppose." 
 
 Solomon. — *'No, Sir." 
 
 Bagman. — " Oh ! not a goin' to College ? — 
 Come to be a 'prentice, then, I zuppose V 
 
 Both the word and the supposition grated 
 harshly on our hero's ears. 
 
 Solomon. — '' Not that, either ; I am going 
 to India." 
 
 Bagman. — " Vy, you looks wery young for 
 so long a woyage. But, owsever, foreign 
 countries is wastly fine, if all wot is said about 
 'em is true. Hour ouse as shipp'd has 
 good as ten thousand of hall sorts of jem- 
 crackeries, for em ere outlandish blacks, an' 
 Indoos. They vas a vantin on me for to 
 go has supper-carger ; but I vould'nt, cos I 
 doesn't like none of em ere long woyages, and 
 they say as every one as goes to Hindy 
 should carry his coffin out vith him. But as
 
 COMPANY OF BAGMEN. 223 
 
 for you Scotch, it's no more nor you're accus- 
 tomed to, — because, vy, after all, it's better 
 to go abroad and be drownded, or die of the 
 yellow fever, nor stay at home and be starved. 
 
 "Em as knows it, says drownin' is heasier 
 nor starvin' — he, he, he ! Vat say ye, young 
 master ?" 
 
 Solomon. — " I daresay it is as you observe ; 
 for I have heard it remarked that the Enghsh 
 make everything a calculation about eating 
 and drinking ; and that when they cannot get 
 roast beef and plum-pudding, they are not so 
 adventurous as Scotchmen, who can put up 
 with parritch and kirn' -milk." 
 
 As the old gentleman was considering the 
 spirit, and inwardly smiling at the naivete of 
 the youthful adventurer, there stepped into 
 the room a very staid, uncouth -looking young 
 man, upon whose visage Nature had fixed the 
 mark of five- and- twenty, but Care, in spite of 
 Nature, of five- and- thirty. He introduced 
 himself as Mr. Keenyin (Kenyon, I suppose,
 
 224 MR. KEENYIN. 
 
 he meant), a clerk in the house of Messrs. 
 
 Macmunny, Turnit, Turnit, and Co. 
 
 He wore a threadbare brown (once, no 
 doubt, black) coat, cinnamon pantaloons, short 
 gaiters, or spatterdashes^ — as they are called 
 in Scotland, — thick- soled shoes, not made to 
 right and left, — a white handkerchief, very 
 yellow, and, instead of gloves, a pair of 
 " mittens." Poor fellow ! they scarcely con- 
 cealed his beetroot-looking fingers. 
 
 As he entered the room, he took off a hat 
 that, having been often pelted by the pitiless 
 storm, was a mere wreck. It was a very cold 
 morning, and the dripping dew was falling in 
 globules from his lobster-coloured, and rather 
 more than aquiline nose. 
 
 Drip fell the globules, not upon a Spitalfields 
 silk handkerchief, but on one of Provost Mac- 
 kashes, bandanas, which by frequent washing, 
 had been so attenuated and discoloured, that 
 if a man had not seen the originals in their 
 native brightness, he could never have believed.
 
 MR. KEENYIN. 225 
 
 from the sample in the hand of Mr. Keenyin, 
 that the Provost had made by them such a 
 fortune, or earned by them so great a repu- 
 tation as he had. 
 
 The clerk, moreover, was a lean, and lank, 
 and little personage, with a keen eye to busi- 
 ness. No sooner had he told the old gentle- 
 man's protege (for so might Solomon now 
 be called) that he was to follow him to the 
 counting-house of Messrs. Macmunny, Turnit, 
 Turnit, and Co., than he addressed himself to 
 the bagmen, " to know how he could be service- 
 able to them." 
 
 '' Our house," said he, " as yea' ken, is ane 
 o' the maist extensive an' o' the best credit in 
 Glasgow ; and though it disna' profess, ether 
 to tak' or to gie' sma' orders, yet if ony o' ye 
 should jist happin to be passin,' may-be ye'll 
 gi'e a look in at the coontin'-house." 
 
 The gentlemen travellers all rose and bowed. 
 
 With the exception of one, they all promised 
 to call upon Messrs. Macmunny and Co ; but 
 
 L 3
 
 226 MR. KEENYIN. 
 
 that one having a good deal more of strut and 
 aristocracy about him than his neighbours, 
 , only said, that ''perhaps he would call;" — not 
 would, but "might call." 
 
 It happened that the old gentleman had 
 also a letter of introduction to Messrs. Mac- 
 munny, Tumit, Turnit, and Co. 
 
 It was not upon business, but merely craving 
 a little civility for him as a stranger, from one 
 of the most respectable firms in the city of 
 Glasgow. 
 
 Seeing his young friend march off to an 
 audience of those gentlemen, he determined to 
 take advantage of the opportunity of witness- 
 ing their interview ; and he followed instanter, 
 to deliver his introductory letter. 
 
 When the old gentleman reached the count- 
 ing-house, he found Master Solomon poring 
 over a map ; and one of the Mr. Turnits point- 
 ing out to him the place for which both were 
 bound ; viz. Calcutta. 
 
 Mr. Turnit, junior, was going in the capacity
 
 THE COUNTING-HOUSE. 227 
 
 of supercargo, in the same vessel in which the 
 adventurous Solomon was also bound to sail. 
 
 As the stranger entered, Solomon was sent 
 away, once more under the protection of Mr. 
 Keenyin^ in order that he might be " shown 
 ow'r the town," as Mr. Macmunny kindly 
 expressed himself. 
 
 The old gentleman was glad to hear these 
 instructions accompanied by an invitation to 
 his young friend to dine with Mr. Macmunny 
 that day, especially as it was followed by one 
 to himself. 
 
 The stranger now began to look about him, 
 and found the three representatives of the 
 house of Macmunny, Turnit, Turnit, and Co. 
 to be three respectable and shrewd-looking 
 persons, each with a pen behind his ear, and 
 seated at a commodious table, covered with 
 green cloth and books, letters, accounts, bills 
 of exchange and bills of lading, with huge 
 bundles of correspondence tied with red tape, 
 spread out before them.
 
 228 THE COUNTING-HOUSE. 
 
 The room was warmed by a magnificent cast- 
 iron stove, and covered with a rich Turkey 
 carpet. 
 
 The walls of it were adorned with maps, and 
 many pieces of pasteboard in a folio form, with 
 some fanciful border, and a label to this effect ; 
 '* Bills of Lading inwards," '' Bills of Lading 
 outwards," " Invoices to Jamaica," " Invoices 
 to Bermuda," "The ship Ariadne," &c. &c. 
 
 The old gentleman was rather struck by this 
 array of mercantile state, especially as he had 
 reached the sanctum sanctorum by two sepa- 
 rate counting-houses, in which were a dozen 
 busy clerks, surrounded by all the parapherna- 
 lia of office, and having about them not a few 
 of the airs of men dressed out in " a little brief 
 authority." 
 
 The new comer was cordially received by 
 Mr. Macmunny, who told him he was really 
 happy he had arrived that day, for that he (Mr. 
 Macmunny) had a party comin' to dine wi' 
 him at five o'clock, an' that if his frien' wud
 
 MR. MACMUNNY. 229 
 
 join them on so short a notice, he wud 
 ha'e the pleasure o' introducin' him to the Lord 
 Provost;, an' to his next door neebor, BailHe 
 Souterkin. He was glad to say he should 
 likewise meet Mr. Cotton, their Glasgow wit, 
 and his young wife, their Glasgow belle. 
 
 " Surely wi' thae temptations," he concluded, 
 taking a cordial grasp of the old gentleman's 
 hand, " Ye'll no' refuse to come." 
 
 He was so far from '' refusing to come," that 
 he told Mr. Macmunny, he most gladly ac- 
 cepted his invitation ; whereupon, shaking him 
 once more heartily by the hand and thanking 
 him, he took his pen from behind his ear, 
 looked at his watch, told him he had some 
 letters to write, and, with good-natured and 
 familiar urbanity, bowed him out of the sanc- 
 tum sanctorum. 
 
 He desired Mr. Macdowlas, one of the head 
 clerks, to '' tak him ow'r the town ;" and this 
 he seemed to think the greatest compliment he 
 could pay to a stranger.
 
 230 MR: MACMUNNY. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny again said, '' Mind, five 
 o'clock" — we're punctual to a minute." 
 
 So saying, he shut the door with evident plea- 
 sure, as considering, that, although the old 
 gentleman was no part of the business of the 
 morning, he, Mr. Macmunny, had yet done his 
 duty to him, even at the expense of that, which, 
 next to his money, is of all things to a mer- 
 chant most precious — his time. 
 
 With this more practical illustration than 
 the old gentleman had ever had of the value of 
 time, and especially of the value attached to it 
 by merchants, he came to the conclusion that 
 time, with them, was only another word for 
 money ; and he never thenceforward ap- 
 proached a counting-house without specific 
 business, nor ever left it without a conviction 
 that his departure was most welcome.
 
 •231 
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 Solomon discourses to the old Gentleman in English — The 
 Reader is conducted to Mr. Macmunny's House, shown up- 
 stairs to the Drawing-room, and thence down-stairs to the 
 Dining-room — He is introduced to the Glasgow Punch, 
 bowl, and to the Glasgow Theatre. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny's dinner hour approached ; 
 and the old gentleman having agreed with 
 his young traveller, Solomon, that he should 
 go under his escort and protection, asked him 
 how he liked the interview with his employers, 
 and how he relished his invitation to dinner ? 
 
 Solomon shall speak for himself, it being 
 only premised that he now no longer speaks in 
 Scotch. 
 
 The truth is, that during the year of his 
 stay at Llangollen, he had been assiduously
 
 232 Solomon's discourse 
 
 cultivating a knowledge of the English lan- 
 guage, not only of its orthography, but of its 
 pronunciation. In this latter department of 
 study he was greatly assisted by his almost 
 daily conversations with Mrs. Wynne and 
 Eliza, who both spoke English with elegance. 
 
 Solomon was thus enabled (when he chose 
 it) not only to eschew Scotch phraseology and 
 dialect, but to divest himself, in some measure, 
 of Scotch accent. 
 
 He never adopted his English idiom, how- 
 ever, at home, because they called it affecta- 
 tion, there. 
 
 He was content to make them read and 
 write English ; but joined conversation with 
 them in their vernacular tongue.- 
 
 When with Mrs. Wynne, it was quite other- 
 wise. He marked her pronunciation, set his 
 ear to catch her tone, and assimilated both to 
 hers with rapidity and success. 
 
 She, on the other hand, was proud of 
 her English scholar, as she called him.
 
 Solomon's discourse. 233 
 
 But to return. 
 
 Solomon addressed the old gentleman 
 thus, — 
 
 " As to the interview with my employers/' 
 said Solomon, " I was exceedingly pleased 
 with it ; and any little misgiving I had, on a 
 consideration of my inability to perform the 
 duties required of me, vanished, when Mr. 
 Macmunny began to speak. 
 
 " To be sure, I was a little surprised with 
 the grandeur of the counting-house, the number 
 of clerks, the room of the partners, the maps' 
 books, and labels. 
 
 •' My hearing one of the gentlemen called 
 the manager of the 'Foreign Department/ 
 made a great impression upon me; but, as I 
 say, it soon wore off", and I don't see why 1 
 shouldn't make a fortune as well as they have 
 done. 
 
 " As for the invitation to dinner, I was 
 once in the mansion of a great personage in 
 Edinburgh, and had there been ushered by one
 
 234 SOLOMON*S DISCOURSE. 
 
 of three powdered lacqueys into the presence 
 of the lady of the house. 
 
 " She was seated amidst hangings of silk and 
 damask, dressed with eastern pomp, and sur- 
 rounded by couches, sofas, ottomans, and foot- 
 stools. 
 
 '' The tables of the splendid apartment 
 were covered with books, handsomely bound 
 and gilt, and with perfumes in crystal bottles 
 variously coloured and cut. Near to one of the 
 windows stood an elegant harp. In the middle 
 of the room there was a grand pianoforte. 
 
 " The richly-carved mantel-piece was covered 
 with china vases, and other costly ornaments, 
 and surmounted by a brilliant mirror. 
 
 "A large chandelier was suspended from the 
 ceiling, and underfoot was a carpet of downy 
 softness. 
 
 "■ An air of grandeur and repose overspread 
 the whole. The lacqueys were as impudent- 
 looking fellows as I ever saw. 
 
 *' Now, as I don't think anything I am Ukely
 
 Solomon's discourse. 235 
 
 to see at Mr. Macmunny's can be grander than 
 that, I am not the least afraid to go there to 
 dinner." 
 
 Solomon having thus delivered himself, he 
 and the old gentleman marched off to dinner. 
 
 They soon found that Mr. Macmunny's esta- 
 blishment was little inferior to that of the 
 " great lady in Edinburgh." 
 
 Scarcely had they knocked at the door, when 
 it was opened by a footman, while a genteel- 
 looking butler, in black, and two more of the 
 party-coloured tribe essayed to take their hats. 
 The old gentleman's was delivered up, as a 
 matter of course, to the servant ; but when he 
 came to Solomon, — " Thank you," said he, 
 "I'll just put it down here myself" 
 
 A second servant asked their names. They 
 were given ; and the third one, already half- 
 way up stairs, called down to them, " This way, 
 gentlemen, if you please." 
 
 Upon this, Solomon said to the old gentle- 
 man, in a whisper, as they followed to the draw-
 
 236 A GLASGOW DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 ing-room, " ' This way, sir/ and ' If you please,' 
 — They are not so impudent as they look." 
 
 As the names of the two strangers were an- 
 nounced, they were startled by the dazzling 
 display offered to their view. 
 
 The first thing that arrested them, especi- 
 ally the old gentleman, was the great blaze of 
 light in the apartments. 
 
 The next thing that riveted their attention 
 was the finery, the prodigious finery of the 
 ladies. 
 
 The old gentleman thought that a whole 
 warehouse must have been emptied to furnish 
 it; and Solomon was sure it would have 
 stocked every haberdasher's shop in the town 
 of Dullborough, or Llangollen, for a month. 
 
 The ladies all sat silent, — which upset the 
 theories of the old gentleman on female lo- 
 quacity ; and they appeared stiff, which he 
 accounted for, on the score of a prudential fear 
 that too much motion might crumple their 
 gauze dresses, or bring down a knot of ribbon
 
 A GLASGOW DRAWING-ROOM. 237 
 
 from its conspicuous position on a full-mooned 
 muslin tiara. 
 
 Their gowns were so decorously long, that 
 he could only observe one or two rather large 
 feet, and not very slender ankles, as sup- 
 porters of the female form. 
 
 The gentlemen were grouped in the middle 
 of the room, all scrupulously dressed in shoes 
 and silk stockings. 
 
 They had inexpressibles tied at the knees, 
 exhibiting brawny calves ; and their cravats 
 made a considerable display of white muslin, 
 tied in not a very precise fashion under their 
 chins. 
 
 But guess, if you can, the astonishment of 
 both guests (for there was a great symp athy be- 
 tween the old gentleman and young Solomon), 
 when setting themselves to listen to the whis- 
 pering hum of the conversation^ they found that, 
 with the simple substitution of Scotch accent 
 for English dialect, they might as well have 
 been in the midst of their " travelling" compa-
 
 238 A GLASGOW DRAWING-ROOM. 
 
 nions at the George. — " Rums is up, — Mus- 
 covados is down. — Yarns is a shade higher, and 
 calicos a bawbee lower ; ginghams is rather 
 lookin' better, an'jacconots is a little fawn — our 
 frien' the Baillie's bandanas is a perfect drug.' " 
 
 These, and such remarks as these, in suc- 
 cession, too quick to be copied, even by a 
 writer of short-hand, made up the conversation 
 of the Glasgow gentlemen. 
 
 " Have you heard," said the Lord Provost, 
 " o' the arrival o' the Demarara frae Deme- 
 rara wi' a cargo o' sugars ? 
 
 " 'Od, they say they're the bonniest sugars 
 that's been in the market this mony a-day. 
 
 " I've gotten some real fine limes by her, 
 and by our friend Douglas's first ship frae Ja- 
 maica, I'm promised some nice auld rum. 
 
 " By the way, Neebor Norace, our joint speck 
 in pullicats has turned out but a puir concern. 
 They'll no pay cost and charges." 
 
 Here his Lordship's discourse was inter- 
 rupted by. the announcement that dinner was
 
 A GLASGOW DTNING-ROOM. 239 
 
 ready ; and after much rustling of silks, and 
 ceremonious advance of successive gentlemen 
 to offer their arms to the ladies, the whole 
 party moved in couplets out of the room, leav- 
 ing Solomon and another youth to bring up 
 the rear. 
 
 The old gentleman gave Solomon his arm ; 
 and as they walked down stairs, the latter 
 whispered his friend to sit next to him. 
 
 At dinner all was sumptuous and super- 
 abundant. The curling smoke rose from the 
 just uncovered dishes like so much incense 
 from a feast in honour of the gods. 
 
 One course succeeded another; the cham- 
 pagne corks [lew ; the h o ck was handed round ; 
 a magnificent epergne groaned under a bouquet 
 of artificial flowers as large as that used to 
 "busk George Heriot;" and gilt china, silver 
 plate candelabras, and a blaze of light as in the 
 drawing-room, from a dozen wax candles stuck 
 into a large chandelier, almost bewildered the 
 vision.
 
 240 A GLASGOW DINING-ROOM. 
 
 There was every now and then a loud laugh 
 from some one or other of the guests, arising, 
 as the old gentleman and Solomon supposed, 
 (for no explanation was given of it) from some 
 good saying or joke of some one of the com- 
 pany. 
 
 They heard one vivacious-looking middle- 
 aged gentleman say to a young lady near him, 
 — a significant smile playing on his counte- 
 nance : — 
 
 " Du ye ken. Miss Spinner, that I was very 
 near bein' your father ? 
 
 " It's as sure's death, I was at yae time within 
 an ace o' marryin' your mother." 
 
 Miss Spinner blushed in deep accordance with 
 her crimson ribbons ; two or three of the com- 
 pany heard the joke and laughed, till Mrs. 
 Macmunny, the lady of the house, insised 
 that it should be made public, for the general 
 good. 
 
 It was so ; and a laugh so universal and so 
 loud was in consequence set up, that Solo-
 
 A GLASGOW DINING-ROOM. 241 
 
 mon, who had read in Lord Chesterfield's 
 Letters that it was not polite to laughs began 
 to consider whether his book or the Glasgow 
 merchants could be wrong. 
 
 The whole company agreed that Mr. Cotton 
 was a great wag, and Miss Spinner was told 
 " not to mind him." 
 
 At length the ladies arose to depart, and 
 the gentlemen simultaneously stood up. The 
 old gentleman fancied, as the former passed 
 out of the room, that the frigidity which he 
 had observed among them up-stairs, was con- 
 siderably thawed by the heat of the dining- 
 room, the good dinner, and the sparkling 
 champagne; for, as they walked out of it, 
 many condescending nods and winks were 
 passed between them and the merchants. 
 
 Some of the latter, as their fair friends rose 
 from their respective chairs, went the length 
 of patting them on the shoulders. 
 
 Scarcely were the ladies gone, when Mr. 
 Macmunny, moving to the head of the table, 
 
 VOL. I. M
 
 242 THE rUNCH-BOWL. 
 
 was soon surrounded by the paraphernalia for 
 punch-making. 
 
 Limes, sugar, cold water, old Jamaica rum, 
 were all put down by the butler at the right 
 hand of Mr. Macmunny. The guests drew 
 their chairs towards his end of the room ; 
 and became scrutinizing and intent on the 
 process of what they called his " brewin'." 
 
 With their elbows on the table, and their 
 eyes upon the punch-bowl, that might have 
 floated a West Indiaman, they gazed, sipped 
 the beverage, remarked upon it, and suggested 
 alterations, — till the brimming and delicious 
 potation, being accommodated to the palate of 
 every fastidious critic present, the landlord 
 gave, with the punch-ladle, a gentle and 
 knowing tap on the edge of the bowl. 
 
 At this signal, all the glasses were handed 
 in, and ranged in a semi-circle around the 
 brimming and fragrant vase. 
 
 There they stood, like so many thirsty pil- 
 grims round a well, till one after another.
 
 SOLOMOI«j's REFLECTIONS. 243 
 
 replenished with rum punch, was made to travel 
 back to its longing master. 
 
 At this period of the entertainment, Mr. 
 Macmunny kindly suggested that if Solomon 
 was tired of sitting where he was, he might 
 go to see the Play. 
 
 He added that he would send one of the 
 servants to show him the way. 
 
 Solomon gladly accepted the offer; but 
 as the old gentleman had seen all he desired 
 to see of a Glasgow party, he requested 
 permission, instead of the servant, to accom- 
 pany Solomon. With the greatest reluctance, 
 and not till after half-a-dozen glasses of punch 
 had been quaffed, his petition was granted. 
 
 The two friends, therefore, took their leave. 
 As they paced the long dark streets, many 
 and various, — sometimes original, and some- 
 times, no doubt, very outre, were Solomon's 
 reflections. 
 
 First he considered (and he expressed 
 himself aloud) how he should possibly be 
 
 M 2
 
 244 Solomon's reflections. 
 
 able to embody all the important events of 
 the last three days in his journal. 
 
 Then he observed^ how little connexion there 
 was between grammar and money, — but what 
 close alliance between splendour and calicoes. 
 
 He tried to guess what might be the expense 
 of a Glasgow lady's dinner dress ; and what 
 might be the fortune of Mr. Macmunny. 
 
 He wondered whether, if he should ever 
 make a fortune, he would be satisfied with it, 
 or, like my Lord Provost, be making '' joint 
 specks in bandannas" long after his fortune 
 had been made. 
 
 He gave a sigh, as he considered how much 
 more important a book than any other the 
 ledger must be in Glasgow ; and that Caesar's 
 Commentaries, Ovid's Metamorphoses, and 
 even Horace, Virgil and Homer, were here 
 superseded by the Mercantile Vocabulary, the 
 pages of which bore record only of fustians, 
 dimities, and cotton twist. 
 
 Solomon wondered how merchants could
 
 Solomon's reflections. 245 
 
 ever have time to make love, when they must 
 be so busy making money; and he came to 
 the conclusion that they probably saved much 
 of the time that others dedicate to courtship, 
 by striking a bargain at once. 
 
 He then proceeded to express his opinion that 
 it was possible the ladies in large trading towns 
 might get so unavoidably accustomed to busi- 
 ness, as to make even a trade of the tender 
 passion ; and he not only began to sigh like a 
 lover, — but almost to cry hke a boy, as he 
 thought of his first love, and of the possibihty 
 of feelings so delightful as those connected with 
 Eliza, being bartered away by a Glasgow lady 
 for a silk gown, or a fine cap and ribbons. 
 
 He entertained reluctantly the idea that this 
 traffic in connubial love, — this conversion of 
 matrimony into a " matter of money," — was 
 probably not more practised in Glasgow than 
 among the noble, — the elevated, — the rich, — 
 the polished, — and the gay. 
 
 He remarked, when thus brought together.
 
 246 THE GLASGOW THEATRE. 
 
 how miserable must be the devotees of great- 
 ness, and yet more abject slaves of the great- 
 est of all jilts, — fashion. 
 
 The old gentleman listened, with no little 
 amusement and surprise, to the philoso- 
 phic out-pourings of Solomon, who became 
 hence-forward a decided favourite with him. 
 
 Our philosopher's reflections were inter- 
 rupted by the arrival of himself and his senior 
 at the theatre. 
 
 They went in, and were surprised to find 
 the "heroes of the buskin," in a house 
 almost as dark as were the streets, declaim- 
 ing to empty benches in the pit ; to a patched- 
 up-looking party here and there in the boxes ; 
 and to a few weaving gods and goddesses in 
 the upper regions. Solomon supposed that all 
 the Glasgow gentlemen must be busy drinking 
 punch, and all the Glasgow ladies taking tea 
 by themselves, in a state of separation from 
 their husbands for the night. 
 
 Neither of our travellers, old or young,
 
 RETURN TO THE INN. 247 
 
 flushed a little as they were by the exhilarat- 
 ing effects of their entertainment at dinner, 
 had much sympathy with the dulness, dark- 
 ness, and solitude around them. 
 
 The old gentleman looked at Solomon, and 
 for the first time in his life, saw a youth more 
 than half asleep over a play. He jogged him, 
 and said, " Shall we go ?" 
 
 Solomon's reply was, " Oh yes, I am very 
 tired." 
 
 The acting was indeed miserable, and the 
 house so lugubrious as to have the air of a 
 room fitted up with black drapery for the re- 
 ception of a dead body to lie in state. 
 
 They went home to the " George," and found 
 that their "traveller" companions had been 
 deep in their potations, and were now up- 
 roarious in their carousals. 
 
 The old gentleman quietly asked for two 
 candles, saw Solomon to his bedroom, and 
 walked on tiptoe to his own. 
 
 He requested that they would call him and
 
 248 RETURN TO THE INN. 
 
 his young friend at six in the morning; for he 
 had determined to accompany the youthful 
 traveller to Greenock. He was there to join 
 the ship that was to convey him on his voyage 
 to Calcutta. 
 
 The old gentleman had taken so great an 
 interest in Solomon, that he not only deter- 
 mined to see him off, but lay half the night 
 thinking how he could keep him at home. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny, with one of the Mr. Turn- 
 its, were to meet them at Greenock ; and 
 before the old gentleman fell asleep, he re- 
 solved to make proposals for Solomon's re- 
 maining behind.
 
 249 
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 In which the Reader has a peep at the Clyde and at Dumbar- 
 ton — The old Gentleman makes an exchange, "paying 
 the difference. — A separation." 
 
 On a bleak and boisterous morning of spring, 
 the old gentleman and Solomon found them- 
 selves in a jingling, rattling chaise and pair, 
 en route for Greenock. The wind found its 
 way through a dozen chinks and apertures, 
 and was whizzing about their ears. It made 
 the loose windows of the vehicle keep time 
 with its jolting motion, in loud and terrific 
 dissonance. 
 
 The mode of travelling between Glasgow 
 and Greenock is almost universally by steam : 
 
 M 3
 
 250 DEPARTURE FOR GREENOCK. 
 
 but as the old gentleman intended to return by 
 this superior mode of conveyance, he resolved 
 upon seeing, by land, one way, the country he 
 was to view from the water by another. 
 
 He admitted into his chaise, by special 
 request, a third companion, who, on hearing 
 that he and Solomon intended to go to Green- 
 ock by land, said he had so often gone by 
 steam, that he should like to accompany them. 
 
 As the mists cleared a little away, they 
 caught a glimpse of the far-famed Dumbarton 
 Castle, and of the curling smoke that arose from 
 the town of the same name, at the base of the 
 rock on which the castle stands. 
 
 " Sir," said Solomon to the stranger, " what 
 noble rock and castle is that, standing in the 
 midst of the waters ?" 
 
 " Oo, that's Dumbarton castle, " said he : " to 
 be sure it's very fine, and it's ane o' the greatest 
 beauties o' the Clyde. It's very edefyin', too, 
 to look at the fine smokin' glass works o" 
 Dumbarton town. They shew that there's no
 
 SCENERY OF THE CLYDE. 251 
 
 sic' an a distance, as some wud gar' us believe, 
 between the noble works o' natur' an' the uti- 
 lity o' tred. 
 
 There was something in this remark that 
 struck the old gentleman as being rather mer- 
 cantile ; and he could not say " amen" to it. 
 
 Ever since he had come to Glasgow, he 
 had found the uppermost, the overwhelming, 
 consideration that of trade ; and on the discus- 
 sion of every question, amid much sagacity and 
 good sense, he found that commerce and 
 money were the grand absorbing topics of 
 the Glasgow merchant's discourse, and occu- 
 pied almost exclusively his anxious thoughts. 
 
 Their travelling companion soon fell again 
 into a sound snore. 
 
 Solomon's attention on the contrary was 
 riveted, as well as his admiration excited, by 
 the opening of the grand, varied, and majestic 
 scenery of the Clyde. He gave himself up to 
 the enchantment drank in by the eye, and to 
 the pleasing sensations that through this organ 
 take possession of the inner man.
 
 252 SCENERY OF THE CLYDE. 
 
 He contemplated and admired the huge 
 black mountains, with the clouds resting, in 
 the distance, on their midway height; the 
 beautiful and more distinctly visible cone ; 
 the mist that, driving with rapid scud, now 
 hid what had been shut up in the darkness 
 of its womb, and anon discovered some mag- 
 nificent landscape. 
 
 The sea-gulls were cawing, and the agitated 
 river was splashing up against the sides of the 
 busy barks that stemmed its current, or glided 
 down its stream. 
 
 All spoke to Solomon's heart a language 
 from nature so eloquent, that he was charmed 
 with the converse. 
 
 He attributed their companion's somnolency 
 to the deadening power of familiarity with the 
 scene ; and he so expressed himself to the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 They reached Greenock, not unaptly called 
 the aquarium vas of his sublunary majesty 
 Abaddon. It rained when they arrived there ; 
 it rained while they remained there ; it pat-
 
 ARRIVAL AT GREENOCK. 253 
 
 tered, thundered, and rained when they left the 
 place. 
 
 The old gentleman having clearly ascer- 
 tained from Solomon that he would much 
 rather stay at home than go abroad, deter- 
 mined, if possible, not only to gratify his wish, 
 but to give him an agreeable surprise. 
 
 On arrival at the Tontine Hotel, Greenock, 
 our two travellers found that Mr.Macmunny and 
 Mr. Turnit had preceded them by some hours. 
 
 "Do ye ken. Sir," said the former to the 
 old gentleman, " that we had mair than a 
 hundred passengers on board o' the Eclipse, 
 an' no' ane o' them wud believe that I had a 
 frien' travellin' to Greenock in a post-chaise ?" 
 
 "'Well," replied the old gentleman, '« I 
 have no doubt of it. They forget, however, 
 that they have all had the land view of the 
 Clyde, while I never had, being now for the 
 first time in my life in Scotland. 
 
 "Besides," said he, *' I intend to give variety 
 to my trip, by taking the view from the river 
 on my return.
 
 254 INITIATION OF A PROJECT. 
 
 " But, Mr. Macmunny," said the old gen- 
 tleman, taking the Glasgow merchant by the 
 arm, and walking him to the window, '' I have 
 something to say to you that interests me a 
 good deal more than even a sail upon the 
 Clyde. 
 
 " What do you think of Solomon ?" 
 
 " I think him an exceedin' sagacious young 
 man," replied Mr. Macmunny. 
 
 " So do I," said the old gentleman. 
 
 " Weel, noo, to business. Have ye ony- 
 thing mair to say about him ?" 
 
 " Yes," was the reply. 
 
 " I have found out, on our journey, that 
 Solomon, though ready to go abroad, would 
 rather stay at home. He does not like to 
 leave his family, nor, perhaps, some other 
 person in Llangollen." 
 
 " Oh ! but ye ken," said Mr. Macmunny, 
 '' these are the mere whims o' youth, an' ebul- 
 litions o' boyish fancy." 
 
 '* I do not think, in this case, they are," said 
 the old gentleman.
 
 INITIATION OF A PROJECT. 255 
 
 "Why/' said Mr. Macmunny, "wha is na' 
 sorry for twa-three days to leave his hame, 
 his country, and, maybe, — young birkie as 
 Solomon is, — his sweetheart ahint him ? — 
 That's human natur' ; but let him ance break 
 ground, an' gang to a foreign Ian', an' ye'U 
 soon see how the youthfu sprig will put out 
 its blossoms, and look as if it had never been 
 exposed to even a'e day's winter o' sorrow." 
 
 This was, perhaps, the first simile in which 
 the good merchant had ever indulged, and it 
 was certainly uttered with unconsciousness of 
 its belonging to any particular figure of rhe 
 toric: 
 
 " I don't agree with you," said the old gen- 
 tleman. 
 
 *• Weel," a favourite way of commencing 
 his orations, '"what," said Mr. Macmunny, 
 " would you be at ?" 
 
 " I should like Solomon to remain in this 
 country," replied his friend. 
 
 "That's impossible," said Mr. Macmunny, 
 with emphasis.
 
 256 INITIATION OF A PROJECT. ■ 
 
 "The ship's to sail in twa or three days; 
 an' Mr. Turnit canna' gang to Indy without a 
 clerk." 
 
 ''^Is there not a clerk in your office/' asked 
 the old gentleman, " that would exchange, as 
 they say in the army, with Solomon, receiving 
 the difference?" 
 
 " Half-a-dizzen," replied Mr. Macmunny. 
 "But then I promised the auld frien' that 
 recommended Solomon to me, that he should 
 hae a situation abroad ; an' that on account 
 o' the higher salary that gangs wi't." 
 
 "What is that salary?" asked the old 
 gentleman. 
 
 " A hundred a-year, bed, board, an' wash- 
 in'/' replied Mr. Macmunny, " to be increased 
 at the rate o' twenty-five pounds a-year, till 
 maybe, at the end o' ten years, if he behaves 
 himsel' weel, and especially if Mr. Turnit dies 
 (as ten to ane he will), Solomon wud become 
 a partner." 
 
 " What," in reply, asked the old gentleman, 
 " is the salary, which you pay to one of the
 
 PROPOSALS MADE AND ACCEPTED. 257 
 
 clerks that would be willing to take Solomon's 
 place ?" 
 
 •' Fifty pounds per annum, on an average," 
 said Mr. Macmunny, " an' without ony pro- 
 spect o' risin' in the concern, or o' ever becomin' 
 a partner. 
 
 " Besides, though they have only half o' Solo- 
 mon's salary, they've twice his wark. We gied 
 Solomon the best place at our disposal, in order 
 to oblige our frien' ; an' I wudna' like to dis- 
 appoint him." 
 
 " But suppose," replied the old gentleman 
 (he had been in the army), " I were to pay the 
 difference, — that is to say, suppose I were to 
 add 50/. a-year to the salary of the Glasgow 
 clerk, on condition that Solomon, instead of 
 going to India should become the Glasgow 
 clerk, and that the present Glasgow clerk 
 should take Solomon's place in Calcutta, would 
 your friend, do you think, be satisfied, and 
 would you have any objections to the com- 
 mutation ?"
 
 258 PROPOSALS MADE AND ACCEPTED. 
 
 " I am sure/' said Mr. Macmunny, " that 
 my frien' wud be mair than satisfied ; an', as 
 for me^ it would gie me great pleasure to 
 promote Mr. Keenyin to India, an' let Solomon 
 hae his stool in Glasgow." 
 
 ** It is a bargain," said the old gentleman. 
 
 *^ Write at once to Mr. Keenyin to prepare 
 for embarkation. Say not a word to Solomon 
 of what has passed. We shall allow him to 
 remain on board the vessel, until she is 
 actually underweigh ; and then we shall 
 bring him ashore with ourselves. 
 
 " I would not only do the lad a favour, but 
 do it in a way at once to surprise him, and 
 rejoice his heart. 
 
 "Tell Mr. Keenyin to say not a word of 
 his present appointment. I am aware that he 
 has neither friends nor relations, — nobody, 
 therefore, will care much about his departure ; 
 and when he goes, as you and I do, on board 
 of the ship, he may be supposed to go to see 
 her off."
 
 THE EXCHANGE. 259 
 
 '* I like the plan," said Mr. Macmunny. 
 
 He instantly issued his private instructions 
 to Mr. Keenyin, and Mr. Keenyin delighted, 
 much beyond his power of utterance, instantly 
 accepted the proposal. 
 
 To the astonishment of his brother clerks, 
 he was one morning missing from a seat on 
 which he had been a fixture for ten years. 
 
 In three days after the receipt of Mr. Mac- 
 munny's letter, with a small trunk and bag, 
 which he carried in his own two hands, and 
 with an unwonted smile on his naturally rueful 
 countenance, he made his appearance at the 
 Tontine. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny assured the old gentleman 
 that he had never seen such an expression of 
 joy on Mr. Keenyin's face before. 
 
 With a sly look and a wink, Mr. Macmunny 
 told his friend, '' That small as Keenyin's 
 salary had been, he was sure he had never 
 spent the half o't ; and that he was no' less 
 sure he would mak' his fortune in Indy."
 
 260 PREPARATIONS FOR A DEPARTURE. 
 
 " I hope SO," said his friend. 
 
 Everything was now ready for the ship's 
 departure ; and the old gentleman, Mr. Mac- 
 munny, Mr. Keenyin, and others went on 
 board with Solomon, as for the purpose of 
 bidding him adieu. 
 
 All was bustle and preparation to get away. 
 They were hoisting the last bales of mer- 
 chandize into the vessel ; the busy passengers 
 were arranging their luggage ; boats were going 
 and coming to and fro ; the captain looked as 
 if the business of the nation were upon his 
 shoulders ; while ducks and geese, and pigs and 
 turkeys were making a discordant din, as, 
 cooped up, they seemed to wonder at their 
 transition from the barn-yard to the quarter- 
 deck. 
 
 There was an uncountable number of cabin 
 passengers on board. 
 
 Solomon had a short history from the captain 
 of their various circumstances and professions. 
 
 The object of all was of course one and the
 
 Solomon's fellow-passengers. 261 
 
 same, — to make their fortunes ; and it was no 
 uninteresting speculation to contemplate the 
 specimens of Scotch enterprise, and to consider 
 the characters of the individuals, by whom, 
 under the patronage of men of capital, foreign 
 expeditions are undertaken from this country. 
 
 '^ There's a tall doctor," said the captain, 
 '' gawin' wi' us, that fell out o' his practice at 
 Barleycorn, wi' drinkin'. 
 
 " There's a clothier frae the auld town o' 
 Ajrr, wi' a short arm an' a brown wig. 
 
 "There's a shoemaker frae Edinburgh wi' 
 a squintin' eye ; an' a pock-pitted weaver frae 
 the Gorbals. 
 
 "There's twa wine-merchants fraeLeith ; half 
 a dizzen sma' manufacturers frae Glasgow and 
 Paisley; an' a man o' the name of Mitchell 
 that's been drummed out of the lang town o' 
 Kirkaldy. 
 
 " Then there's the supercargo, ane o' the 
 partners o' Messrs Macmunny, Turnit, Turnit 
 and Co. ; yoursel' ye ken, — an' I think that' s 
 a'."
 
 262 Solomon's fellow-passengers. 
 
 The list of the passengers, thus graphically, 
 in the old gentleman's hearing, given, by the 
 captain to Solomon, struck him as affording 
 a curious specimen of the British population, 
 from that part of the United Kingdom called 
 Scotland, that was destined to people, civilize, 
 and enrich our possessions in India. 
 
 As the old gentleman thought of Solomon's 
 projected voyage, and concluded that there 
 must be many young men bound from Cale- 
 donia on similar expeditions, he inferred that it 
 was owing to an early transplanting from their 
 own soil to another of such young shoots, that 
 we hear so much of the thriving condition 
 abroad, in riper years, of the scions of North 
 Britain. 
 
 Though exotics when they first reach a 
 foreign shore, yet, from being removed in the 
 early spring of life from a poor country and a 
 cold climate, they soon begin to flourish in a 
 rich land and genial atmosphere, till springing 
 upwards, and taking root downwards, they
 
 THE SHIP SAILS. 263 
 
 become as goodly plants in appearance, and in 
 fact, as the best indigenous ones of the soil. 
 
 The old gentleman thought, too, that this 
 national spirit of enterprise was strongly illus- 
 trated by the crowds which lined the piers and 
 hurried through the different passages between 
 the docks, to see the vessel get under weigh. 
 
 The sails being loosed, the capstan was 
 manned, and the anchor weighed. The masts 
 were tossing their stately heads, and the prone 
 figure of a Mercury at the bow rose and fell 
 with the motion of the coming wave. In a few 
 minutes, the anchor was a-peak, and the gal- 
 lant ship glided from her moorings among the 
 shouts and waving of handkerchiefs of hun- 
 dreds of spectators, who wished her a prosper- 
 ous voyage. 
 
 Hitherto, not a word had been said to Solo- 
 mon of the intention to keep him in his own 
 country. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny's small but beautiful yacht 
 was in attendance to take the returning party 
 on shore.
 
 264 MR. MACMUNNY BREAKS A SECRET. 
 
 The little cutter-rigged vessel, with flowing 
 ensign and pendant, and sails in the wind's eye, 
 played round and round the large, unwieldy 
 merchant ship, as a dolphin might be supposed 
 to play round a whale, or a flying fish to skim 
 upon its moist wings the surface of the deep 
 before the dolphin. 
 
 As the vessel was passing Gourock bay, Mr. 
 Macmunny took Solomon down to the cabin, 
 which had been purposely left for their exclu- 
 sive occupation. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny then briefly related to his 
 astonished and nearly bewildered hearer what 
 had passed with the old gentleman. 
 
 " Depend upon it," said Mr. Macmunny, 
 •'yeVe gotten a staunch frien'in that auld gen- 
 tleman." 
 
 Solomon's gratitude was unbounded, but 
 his utterance was choked. He could have 
 danced for joy, but he stood immoveable, till 
 a rather heavy lee lurch of the ship reminded 
 Mr. Macmunny that a fresh breeze had sprung
 
 ITS EFFECTS UPON SOLOMON. 265 
 
 up, and that it was time to get into the yacht 
 and return. 
 
 Addressing Solomon, on whom Mr. Mac- 
 munny observed a strong effort to articulate 
 something, he told him that he understood very 
 well what he meant, — '' To say naething about 
 it ; but to gang awa' up the companion, an' get 
 his luggage into the j^acht." 
 
 On reaching the deck, Solomon saw the old 
 gentleman standing on the poop. 
 
 Unable longer to contain, he ran up to him, 
 and, with his head upon his friend and patron's 
 breast, the poor fellow gave vent in a flood of 
 tears to the swelling emotions of a grateful 
 heart. 
 
 After this, he went with great alacrity and 
 got his luggage. 
 
 Nothing could exceed the astonishment of 
 captain, passengers, and crew, when they saw 
 Solomon coming up to each of them individu- 
 ally, and shaking them cordially, but, even in 
 his joy, sorrowfully, by the hand. 
 
 VOL. I. N
 
 •266 THE PARTING SCENE. 
 
 '' I thought," said he, addressing the captain, 
 '' that we were to have been fellow-passengers 
 for three or four months, and to have shared, 
 upon the vast ocean, the perils and the sym- 
 pathies common to those who sail in the same 
 ship. So I had begun to feel as if every one 
 on board, even the goats, the sheep, and the 
 turkeys, were friends. 
 
 " But fate and my good fortune have ordered 
 it otherwise. 
 
 ''Farewell; and God be with you all." 
 
 At this point of his leave-taking, Mr. Mac- 
 munny hurried Solomon over the side of the 
 ship into the yacht, and immediately followed 
 himself. 
 
 The outward-bound vessel, which had been 
 lying-to, now made all sail in one direction, 
 and the yacht spread her white canvas in 
 another. 
 
 A general waving of handkerchiefs took 
 place on both sides ; and was mutually con- 
 tinued till this last parting signal of good will 
 was no lonorer discernible.
 
 267 
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 The party returns to Glasgow ; on which occasion Mr. Mac- 
 muuny is brought more prominently before the reader. 
 
 Down to a sumptuous luncheon sat Mr. Mac- 
 munny, proud of his fine ship and of her valu- 
 able cargo. 
 
 On his right hand was seated the old 
 gentleman, entirely pleased with his day's work. 
 Next to him sat happy Solomon, full of grati- 
 tude to his benefactors, and especially to him 
 on his left, through whose instrumentality 
 he was now restored to his native country, 
 or rather had never been allowed to leave it, 
 but in prospect. 
 
 Many more friends of Mr. Macm tinny were 
 congregated around the dinner-table of the 
 
 n2
 
 268 THE RETURN TO GLASGOW. 
 
 yacht, and partook of ham, and fowl, and 
 venison, port, champagne, punch, and madeira, 
 till the old gentleman thought if the ship's 
 homeward voyage were to bear any proportion 
 to the plenty and exuberance with which 
 the commencement of her outward one had 
 been celebrated, the returns could not fail 
 to be superabundant. 
 
 In less than two hours from the time of the 
 yacht's leaving the ship, the whole party was 
 transferred to a Glasgow steamer. 
 
 The old gentleman and Solomon, both 
 admirers of the works of nature, were glad 
 of the prospect of seeing, as they sped 
 over the waters of the Clyde, the scenery 
 on both shoresin all its varied majesty and 
 beauty. 
 
 On the deck of the steamer there were 
 passengers of every grade. They were chiefly, 
 however, merchants, manufacturers, and their 
 wives, returning from trips they had made to 
 their villas, or from the numerous sea bathing
 
 THE RETURN TO GLASGOW. 269 
 
 quarters, — Rothsay, Gourock, and Dunoon, 
 which skirt and adorn the banks of the Clyde. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny was in high glee, and 
 presented to the old gentleman's eye the beau 
 ideal of a Scotch merchant. 
 
 He was a rare compound of shrewdness, 
 sagacity, observation, knowledge of every-day 
 life, especially of his own vocation, tinctured 
 with a slight degree of cunning, and neither 
 affecting, nor capable of assuming, any ap- 
 proach to refinement or elegance of manner. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny was a corpulent and 
 portly personage. 
 
 He had been Lord Provost in his day; 
 and, in respect for the office, he dressed in 
 an ample, but not very fashionably cut suit 
 of black. He wore a white cravat, a broad - 
 brimmed hat, a great display of gold chain > 
 at the end of which dangled many seals ; and 
 it was as evident, from the rotundity of his 
 abdominal region, that he was a gastronomist, 
 as, from the purple tincture of his nasal organ,
 
 270 
 
 MR. MACMUNNY. 
 
 that he was no equivocal devotee of rum 
 punch, port wine, and East India madeira. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny was bald, and the stunted 
 crop of hair, which he had between ear and 
 ear on the occiput, was what might be called 
 a yellowish grey. 
 
 He attributed this early sign of coming 
 age (for he was not above sixty) to the 
 harassing cares of a mercantile Hfe^ — to heavy 
 losses in the West India trade, — and to two 
 or three bad speculations which he had made 
 in Paisley muslins to Calcutta, for returns in 
 cochineal. 
 
 " Well, but, Mr. Macmunny," said the old 
 gentleman, " you are reported, after all, to be 
 one of the richest men in Glasgow. 
 
 '' Your house is in the highest credit ; you 
 are influential in corporate affairs; a leader in 
 private society ; and you have a fair wife and a 
 goodly family. 
 
 " What more would you have ?" 
 
 " Ay," replied Mr. Macmunny, *' that may
 
 MR. MACMUJ^NY. 271 
 
 be a very true ; bit when ye've ance made 
 siller, an' set down a certain sum at the credit 
 o' stock, or ta'en't out o' the concern, an' 
 invested it in bank shares, ye dinna' like to 
 see twenty thousan' clippet frae the wings o' 
 your surplus capital yae day, an' ten thousan' 
 fleein' awa' the next. 
 
 "Ye see ye're no' a merchant, an' maybe 
 ye dinna' enter into thae kind o' considera- 
 tions. 
 
 " But, if you had haen as muckle trouble an' 
 hard wark to mak' your silier as I've had to 
 mak' mine, ye wudna' just think so lightly o' 
 the loss o't. 
 
 " Suppose ye've a bonny wife, an' a bonny 
 wane, an' that your wane's ta'en awa' by the 
 han' o' death, wud the consolation remainin' 
 on account o' the wife mak' up for the sorrow 
 for the loss o' the bairn ? 
 
 " No' a bit o't ; there's naething but time that 
 can help us o'er thae misfortunes ; an' when 
 were striving our best to forget them, that
 
 272 MR. MACMUNNY. 
 
 auld chap in the mean time is makin' furrows 
 in our forehead, an' clippin' our hair wi' his 
 shears till he leaves us bald, as ye see me. 
 
 " Look ye," he continued, '' it's a very fine, 
 an' nae doubt often a very usefu', thin^ to lay 
 down general principles supported by plausible, 
 an' sometimes philosophical, reasonings, about 
 the conduct o' human life. But it's yae thing 
 to admire thae principles, and it's quite anither 
 to act on them. 
 
 " I can admire them as weel as my neebors ; 
 but, as I'm no' a book-man, — as I see that 
 books and men are often very different 
 things, — as I've little time for readin', and 
 think, if I had plenty, that it wud be better 
 spent in makin' siller, — in looking into my ain 
 heart, an' in tryin' to find out what's goin' on 
 in the hearts o' ithers, I dinna fash my thoomb 
 wi' theories. 
 
 '' I like to study life as I find it, and to 
 shape my course by the principles that I canna" 
 deny are the uppermost in my ain heart.
 
 MR. MACMUNNY. 273 
 
 *' Noo, what do I see in the warV, in spite 
 o' a' the books that's been written about it ? 
 
 " Why, that the great, aye the exclusive 
 aim o' man is to get siller. 
 
 '' Some speak about fame ; but it's siller 
 they a' want. 
 
 " It's o' nae use to degrade this word by 
 ca'in't mammon. 
 
 " If mammon it be, we're a' worshippers o' 
 him ; an' it's nonsense to tell me, (begging 
 your pardon,) that the merchant stoops lower 
 at his shrine than ony ither body. 
 
 " Will your clever advocate undertak' a 
 cause without a fee ? Will he be sittin' up a' 
 night in his chammers for reputation's or for 
 justice's sake ? 
 
 " Will the doctor gang an' see a deein' body 
 without expectation o' fee or reward ? 
 
 " What do men draw pictures for ? — It's a' for 
 siller. 
 
 " What do statesmen, aye even your paw- 
 trits, mak' speeches for ? — ^just for siller. 
 
 n3
 
 274 MR. MACMUNNY. 
 
 '• The fine author that writes a sentimental 
 novel, what is he thinkin' o'? — •Siller. 
 
 " Would he write it for naething? 
 
 " Na, na; he maun gang to his publisher 
 wi' his goods, just as I gang to Indy wi' mine- 
 
 '* Oh ! but ye'll may be say there's a class 
 aboon them. 
 
 " There's your landed gentry, and j'our aris- 
 tocracy. 
 
 ** Weel ; will they let a farm to a puir man 
 for naething? 
 
 "If they will, ye shall hae for naething my 
 hale stock in tred." 
 
 Mr. Macmunny's arguments had so much of 
 rationale and conclusiveness in them, that the 
 old gentleman scarcely knew how to answer. 
 Much less did he feel himself able to combat 
 them. The merchant gained the day; and 
 no doubt conscious of this — 
 
 *' Come," said he to his friend, changing the 
 subject, and pulling at the same time his coat- 
 sleeve ; *' do you see that fine mansion awa on
 
 THE BANKS OF THE CLYDE. 275 
 
 the left;, wi'hundreds o' acres o' young shrubbery, 
 an' hundreds o' yards o' weel-built wa's about it, 
 an' a goodly show an' protection o' auld trees 
 round the house ? 
 
 ''There's a slopin' lawn in front o't; some 
 deer in a park by the side o't ; an' some o' 
 your finest South -downs croppin' the grass 
 down to the very banks o' the river." 
 
 " I do see it/' said the old gentleman ; 
 " and a noble and beautiful place it is." 
 
 '' Weel," said Mr. Macmunny, '* that's the 
 sate o' Mr. Cotton. He's a shrewd, witty, 
 and canny chiel, an' he started into life without 
 a bawbee. 
 
 '- But he has a lang head an' a smooth 
 tongue ; an' though he can speak a great deal 
 mail glibly than me, an' show, may be, that 
 siller's no worth thinkin' about, he's amaist as 
 fond o't as mysel'. He begoon business, as I 
 say, without a sixpence ; but he gaed on and 
 gaed on till he made his fortun' in the Indy 
 trod, an' at last got into parliment.
 
 276 MR. COTTON, 
 
 " He's noo chiefly occupied in improvin' his 
 estate, — a reg'lar country gentleman." 
 
 Mr. Macmunny pointed out to his friend, 
 as they sailed along, a dozen mansions of 
 inferior note: but all wearing, if not an air 
 of sumptuousness, yet one of substantial soli- 
 dity, comfort, and elbow-room. He had the his- 
 tory of each inmate of each villa from his intel- 
 ligent and sagacious friend, and Solomon stood 
 by, not only a looker on at the scenery but a 
 listener to the discourse. He began verily 
 to think that money was no despicable thing. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny proceeded . — 
 
 " I shall content mysel' wi' ae further 
 illustration (I mean than that afforded by 
 the history of Mr. Cotton) o' the manner in 
 which Glasgow merchants and weavers rise, 
 by their ain merit an' industry, to the rank 
 o' country gentlemen. 
 
 " Do you see," said Mr. Macmunny, " yon 
 big house, with the four Doric pillars in front 
 o't and a gable o'erlaid wi' stucco?'
 
 MR. TWIST. 277 
 
 '' I do," said the listener. 
 
 " Weel/' replied his communicative friend, 
 '' that's the house o' Mr. Twist. He's made 
 his fortun' by spinnin'. He began wi' the 
 spinnin' jenny, an' he's ended by haeing the 
 finest steam manufactory in a' Glasgow. 
 
 " Modern improvement has diminished his 
 number o' workmen by a'e fourth; but he 
 still keeps in his employ eight hundred han's ; 
 he pays them their wages every Saturday 
 night; he maks, they say, twa hundred pounds 
 a- week; he sees his party in Glasgow on 
 Friday ; an' comes down wi' a select few to 
 his country house on Saturday, and stays till 
 Tuesday. There they drink port an' madeira, 
 an' finish wi' punch, till they're, maybe, nae 
 better than they should be. 
 
 '' They gang out in the mornin* ane wi' his 
 gun in his hand, anither wi' his fishing-rod ; 
 they tak' a glass o' whiskey afore they start'; 
 an' they carry plenty o' the barley bree in 
 your modern jem-crack bottles, wi' sandwiches
 
 278 MR. TWIST. 
 
 o' ham, an' anchovies, an' venison, before they 
 gang to the moors, or tak' to rowin' in the 
 boat. They crack their jokes, an' shoot their 
 grouse, an' catch their trouts, an' spear their 
 salmon, till the hale party, fu' o' glee, an' 
 every ane thinking himsel' a cleeverer sports- 
 man than his neebor, comes back to Mr. 
 Twist's to dinner, and to pass the night in 
 gude fellowship an' glee. 
 
 " On Tuesday mornin', as I say, they a' gang 
 back to Glasgow in the steam-boat; Mr. 
 Twist gets up on his high stool, at the 
 coun tin' -house ; his frien's are seen busy on the 
 exchynge ; and, till next Friday, they're a' as 
 muckle ta'en up about puUicats, rum, tobacco, 
 and muscavadoes, as if they had naething 
 else in their life to think about, or do." 
 
 As the party swept over the waters of the 
 
 Clyde, with both wind and current in their 
 
 favour, the old gentleman and Solomon learnt 
 
 hat, with few exceptions, every mansion on 
 
 either bank belonged to the wealthy mer-
 
 MR. macmunny's discourse. 279 
 
 chant, the substantial ship- builder, the over- 
 grown spinner^ or to the owner of some iron 
 foundry, where, amid a thousand flying sparks, 
 and in a blazing atmosphere, heated to suf- 
 focation, the welkin rings with the huge 
 hammers of the cyclops, as they elaborate the 
 component parts of the complicated steam 
 engine. 
 
 '' Noo, ye see," said Mr. Macmunny, with 
 his usual sagacity, "^industry's only the hand- 
 maid to comfort. First, industry gars the pat 
 boil ; next, it gies ye a weel-furnished house an' 
 a weel-stockit cellar. Ye get frae punch to 
 port, frae port to burgundy an' champagne. 
 Then comes the carriage, then the country- 
 house, wi' a sleek butler an' three or four 
 valets under him : ye have twa' -three hunters 
 in the stable ; some gude roadsters for yourseF 
 an' the ladies; an' a couple o' Highlan' 
 pownies for your twa auldest sons. Then for 
 your name, its respeckit, baith at hame an' 
 abroad. Your credit's as good at Kingston
 
 280 MR. macmunny's discourse. 
 
 an' Calcutta as it is on the Glasgow ex- 
 chynge. 
 
 " Your agents can draw thirty or forty 
 thousan' by a packet ; every win' that blaws 
 brings ye in a ship, if you're a merchant, or 
 the raw material^ if you're a manufacturer. Off 
 goes the twist made out o' this to Germany ; 
 an' awa' across the wide ocean, to Senegam- 
 bia, Calcutta, an' Peru, gang the platillas, 
 prints, pullicats. Paisley muslins, shirtin's ging- 
 hams, cahcoes, cotton cambrics, to say naething 
 o' the bulky articles o' every description, that 
 not only supply our very antipodees wi' our ain 
 luxuries, as ale, porter, wine, furniture, glass, 
 crockery, an' cutlery ; but encourage shippin', 
 train sailors, an' uphold the very British 
 navy. 
 
 '' It's a' very weel for your gentry to think 
 unca' sma' beer o' your Glasgow merchant, an' 
 o' your manufacturin' body : but I opine that 
 it's a good deal better to get an honest, abun- 
 dant, an' often affluent livin' by trade an' ma-
 
 THE BROOMIELAW. 281 
 
 nufactures, beginnin' wi' naething and endin' 
 wi' a plum, than to daidle awa' life, as mony o' 
 your gentry do, livin' on what they never 
 earned, cuttin' down the forests planted by 
 their ancestors, an' in continual bargains (for 
 they're naething better) wi' Jew brokers, an' 
 Edinburgh lawyers, to see how muckle mair, in 
 the way o' mortgage, they can get on their 
 estates, an' in how muckle mair embarrass- 
 ment they can leave their posterity. 
 
 " Hech how ! it's an awfu' thing to think 
 what mony folk say is true, that seven -eights o' 
 the unentailed property in this country is in the 
 hands o' mortgagees." 
 
 At the end of their steam voyage, they sailed 
 into the Broomielaw ; and whoever has landed 
 there, can never forget the scene. 
 
 Noddies* are crowding the pier, and porters 
 with ropes, each looking like a hangman, are 
 crowding, jostling, fighting, to secure, each for 
 
 * The noddy is a fly.
 
 282 THE BROOMIELAW. 
 
 his own broad shoulders, or respective barrow, 
 the luggage of the last arrived passengers. 
 
 Steam is whizzing out of fifty funnels ; de- 
 partures and arrivals of steam boats take place 
 in as rapid succession as, in London, coaches 
 and omnibuses arrive at the White Horse Cel- 
 lar, and depart from it. 
 
 The air is rent with shouts ; you hear inde- 
 scribable hubbub and wrangling in Gaelic and 
 broad Scotch ; ladies scream, husbands bustle, 
 lovers are alarmed ; and if they make too great 
 haste to land, they are pretty sure to lose sight 
 either of their luggage or their love. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny and his two companions 
 were driven, they knew not how, first over a 
 plank, and next over a steam -boat, and then 
 over a plank again, till they were at length 
 stranded on the pier of the Bromielaw.
 
 283 
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 The old Gentleman and Solomon being invited to a Glasgow 
 assembly, are introduced to Mrs. Leader, the Lady 
 Patroness, to her daughter, Miss Leader, aud to other 
 fashionables — A Glasgow Ball. 
 
 After our travellers had cleared the crowd, 
 Mr. Macmunny, giving the old gentleman his 
 arm, said, 
 
 '' We're gawin, to hae a sma' early party the 
 day, so as to gi'e the leddies time, when we're 
 takin' our punch an' our wine, to dress after 
 dinner for the assembly. 
 
 **Ihope ye'll join us; an' I shall hae the 
 pleeshur o' introducin' ye to Mrs. Leader, 
 the lady patroness, wha, though a little turned 
 o' five-an-thirty, is ane o' the maist gay, 
 cheerfu , witty, an' accomplished o' a' our 
 Glasgow belles.
 
 284 THE LADY PATRO^ESS. 
 
 '^ I'm only sorry we canna' claim her as a 
 native o' the town, nor yet o' the country : for 
 she was born o' English parents, at Naples ; 
 made a love marriage ; an' wi* her only daugh- 
 ter, — a fine young leddy o' eighteen, — is quite 
 the leader o' the Glasgow beau monde. 
 
 " But mind," said Mr. Macmunny, pawkily, 
 " ye're no' to fa' in love wi' Caroline (that's 
 the young leddy's name), for I hae a sly e'e 
 to her, as just the thing for my auldest son. 
 He'll hae siller, an' she has wit an' beauty ; 
 an' between you an' me, I dinna' see how a 
 man can better employ the interest o' his 
 capital than in keepin' wi' comfort a wife that 
 will be a credit to him. Weel, you'll come ? 
 An' be sure, by-the-by, to bring Solomon in 
 your hand." 
 
 '' By all means," said the old gentleman. 
 
 He was not less pleased with Mr. Mac- 
 munny's conversation than anxious to see the 
 Glasgow belle, and her daughter, the destined 
 bride of Mr. Macmunny, j un. He was especially
 
 THE LADY PATRONESS. 285 
 
 desirous both to see^, and to show Solomon, how 
 an assembly was conducted in the great ma- 
 nufacturing city of the north. 
 
 They found a select and familiar few as- 
 sembled in Mr. Macmunny's drawing-room, 
 as they entered precisely at four o'clock. 
 The gentlemen were all " Sandies," or 
 " Jamies," or "Johns" or "Ebenezers;" and 
 the conversation was redolent of the transac- 
 tions of the day. 
 
 Not one of the ladies was present ; and Mr. 
 Macmunny excused them on the score " o' their 
 wantin' every minute that could be spared to 
 mak' their preparations for the evenin'. They 
 are a', " he continued, " in the best bed-room ; 
 but nae doubt they'll be here presently." 
 
 Presently they entered. 
 
 In swept the lady patroness, leaning on the 
 arm of Mrs. Macmunny, and gracefully holding 
 in her right hand a lavender bottle and a white 
 handkerchief. 
 
 " Mrs. Leader,'' said Mrs. Macmunny ; and,
 
 286 THE LADY PATRONESS. 
 
 disengaging her arm from that lady's, " Miss 
 Leader," said Mrs. Macmunny. 
 
 It could not be denied that they were both 
 fine women; and Mr. Macmunny seemed as 
 proud of them as if they had been his own 
 wife and daughter. 
 
 When Mrs. Leader '' came out," in conversa- 
 tion, with her dark but sparkling eyes, her 
 cheeks slightly rouged, her long black ring- 
 lets, and graceful manner, her husband was 
 all self-complacency, — her listeners were all 
 admiration, — and her decided admirers, at the 
 very head of whom was Mr. Macmunny, all 
 complacent attention. Mrs. Leader had none 
 of the Glasgow dialect. 
 
 Both she and her daughter sang and 
 played duets ; they sang in English, French, 
 Italian, German ; their milliners lived in 
 Regent-street ; and so no wonder that the 
 Glasgow gentlemen were a little proud, and 
 the Glasgow ladies a little jealous, of such 
 superior specimens of fashion and haut ton.
 
 THE LADY PATRONESS. 287 
 
 After a hurried dinner (for the ladies 
 were evidently on the fidgets to get away and 
 prepare for the ball), they all ran up stairs ; 
 and before the dining-room door could be 
 closed, there was heard a prodigious deal 
 of whispering, under-laughter, and loud calls 
 for candles. 
 
 The lady patroness had been requested to 
 dress at Mr. Macmunny's, that she might 
 inspect the half-dozen young ladies who were to 
 put on their ball-room attire under her auspices. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny was a little agitated; and 
 made his punch in sucha hurry, that few could 
 be got to pronounce it ''a gude brewin'." 
 
 An hour passed away, — another, —and 
 then, a great blaze of splendour offered itself 
 to observation, as the ladies, now in full 
 dress for the ball, received the gentlemen in 
 the drawing-room. 
 
 There sat Mrs. Leader on the right hand 
 of Mrs. Macmunny ; and though of very 
 different caste and contour, they were as nearly
 
 288 THE LADY PATRONESS. 
 
 assimilated on this evening as dress could 
 assimilate them. 
 
 Mrs. Macmunny was stout to unwieldiness, 
 with a face, like Nerval's shield, " round as 
 the moon," and by no means in want of 
 rouge. Yet, because Mrs. Leader used rouge, 
 Mrs. Macmunny rouged too. 
 
 Mrs. Leader wore a turban with an ostrich 
 plume : so did Mrs. Macmunny. 
 
 The lady patroness had bishop's sleeves : 
 so had Mrs. Macmunny. 
 
 Mrs. Leader had a rich band fastened by a 
 buckle adorned with amethysts, and bracelets 
 to correspond. To her band was appended 
 by a golden clasp an elegant French watch ; 
 and round her beautifully formed, but a little 
 too much exposed, neck hung a gold chain 
 with a richly set locket, having auburn hair 
 on one side of it, and her husband's miniature 
 on the other. 
 
 Ditto, — ditto, — ditto, — Mrs. Macmunny. 
 
 The lady patroness had white satin shoes on
 
 ms^ 
 
 -/'U.- 6/ 
 
 .^^6^^-//'
 
 I
 
 THE LADY PATRONESS. 
 
 2S9 
 
 small feet; the merchant's lady on very 
 large ones. 
 
 Mrs. Leader's white and taper, yet not 
 too taper, fingers sparkled with many a gem : 
 Mrs. Macmiinny's red and pnfFy fingers 
 sparkled, if not with many more, yet with 
 many richer gems ; for Mr. Macraunny's 
 purse was a good deal longer than Mr. 
 Leader's. 
 
 To look upon that picture, and on this, was 
 very amusing : for while, in many respects, 
 there was a striking similarity between this 
 and that, there was a difference in others 
 that inevitably provoked to merriment and 
 contrast. 
 
 It was pretty much the same with the two 
 young ladies. Miss Leader was the type of 
 her mamma ; and Miss Macmunny of Miss 
 Leader. 
 
 There was a studied, but yet amiable and 
 always successful, effort made by Mrs. Leader 
 to please everybody ; and her bright, though 
 
 VOL. I. o
 
 290 THE BALL. 
 
 not very steady eyes spoke things unutterable 
 when she played the agreeable, to those by 
 whose admiration she was flattered, and of 
 whose arm she was proud. A handsome 
 officer, especially if an honourable, or a young 
 member for a county, elicited all that was 
 enchanting from her. Their attentions en- 
 abled her with more winning smiles, more 
 marked condescension, and more towering 
 inward satisfaction, to patronise the Glasgow 
 beaux and belles, who looked up to her with 
 that decided and respectful admiration which 
 no person in the world, perhaps, covets 
 more, or better understands, than your lady 
 patroness of a ball. 
 
 The mother was followed by the daughter, 
 — a pretty pocket edition of her mamma, and 
 with every indication of being as much en hon 
 point, and as capable of managing a gay 
 assembly .as her parent, when she should 
 attain to her years. 
 
 Then followed five or six Glasgow ladies,
 
 THE BALL. 291 
 
 having endeavoured to imitate, — but at a 
 terrible distance, — '' their glass of fashion 
 and their mould of form," Mrs. Leader. 
 The third trip of Mr. Macmunny's carriage 
 placed the last of the party in the ball-room ; 
 in which the display of ribbons and silk, 
 turbans and tiaras, was much more conspicuous 
 than that of elegance or fashion. 
 
 Ball-room scenes are pretty much the same 
 all over the world. 
 
 Mr. Macmunny, jun., was awkwardly and 
 overwhelmingly attentive to the gay Miss 
 Leader ; and it was very evident that the old 
 gentleman, and the not old lady, Miss Leader's 
 mother, were complacent spectators of the 
 marked progress made by the young beau in 
 the affections of the young lady. He was no 
 doubt a good deal aided in this by the exhilara- 
 ting influence of champagne and madeira, rum- 
 punch, port, and no claret. Indeed, a good 
 many of the gentlemen in the room were more 
 or less inspired by the gaiety consequent upon
 
 292 THE BALL. 
 
 large potations of those cordials. On such 
 occasions, the landlord remarks, " That, as it 
 is a ball-room night, there's nae time to lose : 
 so send in your glasses, you that's takin' 
 punch, and push roun' the bottle the twa or 
 three o' ye that's takin' wine." 
 
 With such hospitable copiousness and ra- 
 pidity does the worthy host thus charge and 
 re-charge the glasses of his friends, that it 
 often happens that more is drunk at those 
 hurried parties, than during the ordinary and 
 comparatively sober sederunts of five or six 
 hours. 
 
 Many of the gentlemen walk in rather 
 equivocal sort to the ball-room ; and when 
 there, some of them are a good deal puzzled 
 by the glare of light, and by the manifold 
 figures, in many-coloured dresses, whirling 
 round, or skipping about, or hopping " down 
 the back an' up the middle**' of the country- 
 dance. 
 
 In the intervals between the dance, many
 
 THE BALL. 293 
 
 are the visits paid by the Glasgow gentle- 
 men to the refreshment-room ; and when the 
 ponderous supper is served in the banqueting- 
 chamber, no wonder that hilarity, laughter, 
 broad wit, broad caricature, some slight 
 excess of ball-room licence, — with, however, 
 great good nature and unbounded gallantry, — 
 are exhibited. 
 
 END OF VOL. I. 
 
 Ix)ndon : Printed by W. Clowes and Sons. Stamford Street.